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v6quewrlds · 3 months ago

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Can you write a fic about Mat getting into a fight on the ice because an opponent said something about you

❝ guilty conscience, m. barzal. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: experimenting with how much i like posting in 3rd person. literally wrote this in my 2 hr philosophy lecture this morning because fuck thomas hobbes. somehow i write all day for my major and minors, yet somehow i still find the will to write these fics lmao.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: a little angsty. established couple argument. language warnings i think. mat is very mat in this one. short and sweet <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: mathew barzal x fem!oc (malia).

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 3.6k.

Malia took a sip of her overpriced soda, the fizz tickling her nose as she surveyed the bustling arena. The smell of popcorn and the distant sound of skates slicing ice filled the air. It was her second time watching Mat play a home game for the New York Islanders, and she still felt like the new kid on the block. She wore her navy blue team jersey with "Barzal" emblazoned across the back, a gift from Mat for their two-month anniversary. She'd studied the rules and lingo, eager to fit in, but the pace of the sport still left her breathless.

Grace, the wife of the Islanders' captain Anders, leaned over and tapped her arm. "What do you think, so far?" she said with a knowing smile.

Malia smiled unconvincingly, trying to hide her nerves. Grace had been kind to her, but the other wives and girlfriends were a tougher nut to crack. They all had their own history, their own jokes, and Malia felt like she was trying to catch up on a TV show she'd started mid-season.

"Mat's really got his head in the game tonight," Malia said, hoping to steer the conversation away from her novice status. She watched as he zipped across the ice, stick handling the puck with ease, a blur of motion and concentration.

"Oh, absolutely," Grace agreed, her eyes glued to the action. "When he gets like that, it's like he's in a whole different world. They're all like that, really. Once they find their groove, it's like nothing else exists."

The game grew intense as the period neared its end. Malia felt the excitement of the crowd building like pressure in a pot. Mat's broke away down the ice, and Malia found herself leaning forward in her seat, heart racing. He was so fast, so graceful. It was easy to get lost in the flow of the game when he played. That's when it happened. The opponent, a burly player from the other team, had a smirk on his face as he checked Mat hard into the boards without warning. Malia's breath caught in her throat as Mat pushed himself back up, fists clenched. The smirk grew wider, and the other player opened his mouth to say something. Malia couldn't hear the words, but she saw Mat's face contort in anger.

Her eyes widened as she watched the scene unfold, a mix of horror and disbelief. The opponent had said something to set Mat off, something that made the usually disciplined player see red. Before she could even process what was happening, Mat had thrown his gloves to the ice and was throwing punches. The roar of the crowd grew to a crescendo as the two players grappled, their movements a violent shock. Malia's mind raced as she tried to understand why this was happening, why Mat was fighting.

It was all so raw, so primal.

Grace's grip on her arm tightened, her voice a low murmur. "It's okay, this is just part of the game."

But Malia felt anything but okay. Her heart pounded in her chest, a drumbeat of fear and confusion. The other wives and girlfriends around her remained stoic, but she could see the concern flickering in their eyes. They knew the drill, had probably seen this a hundred times before, but for Malia, it was a jolting reality check.

Mat's fury was a living, breathing entity on the ice, a stark contrast to the loud, carefree persona he was around her. It was a complete shock to the system for Malia. The sight was both terrifying and mesmerizing. She couldn't look away as players from both teams swarmed around them, trying to separate the combatants.

The referees eventually stepped in, breaking up the fight with a flurry of whistles and gestures. Mat was escorted to the penalty box, his teammates patting him on the back in a strange display of support. Malia's eyes remained glued to the ice, her mind racing with questions and fears she didn't know how to voice.

"You okay?" Alexa, Noah Dobson's girlfriend, leaned over, her eyes filled with empathy.

Malia nodded, her eyes not leaving Mat's figure in the penalty box. "I just... I didn't expect that."

Alexa chuckled softly. "Welcome to the league, hon. It's all part of the show."

Malia forced a smile, not sure if she was ready for this kind of drama. As the game resumed, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just seen a side of Mat she didn't know or particularly like either. The atmosphere in the arena had shifted, the electric tension of the fight still palpable. Despite the Islanders' lead, the air was thick with unspoken concern.

When the buzzer finally rang, signaling the end of the period, Malia's nerves had her jumping out of her skin. The players skated off the ice, and she took the opportunity to excuse herself to the bathroom, needing a moment to breathe. The cold air greeted her as a departure from the sticky anxiousness of the rink. As she stared into the mirror, she wondered if she was cut out for this life, if the love she had for Mat was enough to handle the darker, more intense moments of his career.

Malia returned to her seat, the game still in progress, and found that Mat had been benched. She watched as he paced back and forth behind the glass, his eyes scanning the stands until they drifted to the Jumbotron after being nudged by a few guys Malia had not met yet.

Malia's focus on her boyfriend was broken as a few of the other girls tapped her on the shoulder, her wide eyes blasted onto the Jumbotron. She forced a smile, her eyes darting away from her face in embarrassment as she realized that the arena cameramen had noticed her #13 jersey. He offered a weak smile as she turned back to him, his eyes still watching her on the screen. She could see the apology in his eyes. He knew she was still trying her best to wrap her head around the culture and rules of the game she was learning to love for his sake.

The final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the match. The Islanders had won despite the scuffle, and Malia felt an odd mix of relief and dread as the players started to make their way off the ice. The group of them gathered their things, and she watched as Mat skated over to the bench to exchange a few words with the coach before disappearing into the locker room.

Grace gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "You'll get used to it," she said with a knowing smile. "It's part of the game. They get caught up in the moment."

Malia nodded, not entirely convinced. She knew that fights were a part of hockey, but seeing Mat so consumed by rage was unsettling, so unlike the boyfriend she knew. She sent Mat a short text, telling him she'd wait in the car for him instead of waiting with the others by the locker rooms. The coolness of the night air outside the arena brought air back into her lungs as she stepped into the parking lot. She leaned against the cold metal of the car, her heart still racing from the adrenaline rush of the fight.

When Mat emerged from the arena, his eyes searched the lot until they found her, his expression a completely devoid of any anger or self-awareness. He looked tired but victorious as he approached, his dark, fluffy hair beginning to dry from his shower. He opened the passenger door with his trademark crooked grin. "You didn't wait in the usual spot."

Malia looked at him, confusion evident on her face though she quickly pushed it aside. Maybe she was making too big a deal of it. "I just needed some air," she said, sliding into the car. "How are you feeling?"

Mat shrugged as he closed the door. "Fine. Why?" His tone was light, almost casual as he slid into the driver's seat. It was as if the fight had never happened. He threw his bag into the back and started the car, the engine rumbling to life.

"You know, the fight," Malia said, trying to keep her voice even. "You guys were really going at it."

Mat's eyes darted to her, then back to the road. "Oh, that. Just part of the game, babe. No big deal."

Malia's jaw tightened. "It looked pretty big to me." She couldn't ignore the fear that had gripped her during the fight.

Mat sighed, his eyes still on the road. "Look, it's just the heat of the moment. Sometimes things get intense out there."

Malia stared out the window, the city lights blurring together as they drove. "I guess," she muttered with a quiet sigh. She knew Mat was trying to downplay it, but she couldn't shake the image of his furious expression.

Mat's hand reached over and gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. "You okay?"

Malia took a deep breath and shifted in her seat, his calloused hand falling away from her skin. "Yeah, just tired I guess. Long day."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either. The fight had left her emotionally drained. She'd seen Mat get competitive, sure, but never violent. It was a side of him she didn't know how to reconcile with the man who made her laugh and supported her studies so wholeheartedly.

The silence in the car grew thick as they approached Mat's apartment. Malia felt a knot in her stomach tighten. This wasn't the same playful tension they usually shared; it was heavier, denser, and less fun. When they pulled into the parking lot, Mat turned to her, his jaw set with tension as if he was bracing for something.

"What's up with you?" he asked, his voice a mix of annoyance and genuine concern.

Malia's eyes rolled before she turned to face him. "What's up with me? I don't know Mat, maybe I just didn't like seeing you like that." Her voice was a mix of anger and fear.

Mat looked at her with a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Like what? It's just hockey. Shit like that happens all the time."

Malia's voice grew stronger as she turned to face him fully. "But you've never fought before, at least not since we've been together. What even was that?"

Mat's expression grew defensive. "It happened hours ago, Malia. Why are we even talking about this right now?"

Malia's eyes filled with frustration. "Because it's not just 'shit that happens' to me. That was you out there fighting for... what? Some kind of ego trip?" She knew she was being unfair, but she couldn't help the words from spilling out.

Mat's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "It's not like that, and you know it," he snapped. "It was a cheap hit..." He trailed off, his jaw clenching. Malia remained silent, holding back her growing anger as Mat pulled into a parking spot in the garage. They exited the car, stubbornness palpable in the air between them as they rode the elevator to his floor.

Once inside the apartment, Mat tossed his keys onto the counter and turned to her, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You're overreacting. It's part of the game."

Malia threw her purse onto the couch, her voice rising with frustration. "Maybe for you it is, but I've never seen you like that!" She felt a tremor of fear and anger at his dismissiveness. "What if you had gotten seriously hurt?"

Mat stared at her, his eyes darting over her features as he took a step closer. "That's not going to happen. I know what I'm doing out there."

Malia stepped back, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. "It's not just about you knowing what you're doing. It's about the fact that I don't want to see you like that. It scared me, Mat."

Mat groaned, running a hand through his damp hair. "But I didn't get hurt," he said, his voice still holding on to its edge. "Can we just drop it?"

Malia's eyes narrowed, looking for a hint of understanding. "No, we can't just drop it," she said firmly. "You're not the only one affected by what happens on the ice. You're my boyfriend, and when you're out there fighting like that, it's not just about the game." She turned on her heels, huffing as she stalked off to Mat's bedroom.

Mat followed her, his frustration evident in the heavy thud of his feet on the floor. "What do you want me to say, Malia?" he called after her. "It's not like I was planning on fighting."

Malia spun around in the doorway to the bedroom, her eyes flashing. "I want you to say that you get it. That you understand that I don't want to see you hurt or risking your health over some stupid shit, Mathew." He took a deep breath, his eyes closing as his temper flared again.

Malia turned her back to him, her hands shaking slightly as she unbuttoned her coat. "And for the record," she added, her voice trembling, "The only thing that actually matters to me is that you're okay."

"And I'm completely fine," Mat said, his voice tight as he stepped closer to her. "It's not like it's the first time I've thrown a punch, Malia. I'm not some fragile porcelain doll you have to worry about."

Malia whipped around, her own anger rising to match his. "I don't give a fuck about what you're used to, or what the sport expects from you!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway. "I care about you, and what you do out there affects me! You were a different person out there, and I didn't like it!"

Mat stopped in his tracks, his face a mask of shock. Malia had never raised her voice at him. In fact, the first time they met, he constantly had to ask her to repeat herself with her voice so shy. The sight of her fuming with emotion was enough to make his eyebrows furrow. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his own anger in check.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice low and tight. "I'm out there playing the game I love, trying to win for my team, and for you to sit here and act like it's all about you and what you want..."

"Do you think? Ever?" Malia's voice cracked, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. She didn't mean for it to come out so loud, so harsh, but the fear and frustration had been building up inside her like a pressure cooker. She couldn't stand there any longer, listening to Mat belittle her feelings. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the bedroom.

Mat followed her, his own anger bubbling to the surface. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, his voice rising to match hers.

"I'm not doing this with you. If you don't want to talk about it, fine, but don't act like I'm some kind of drama queen," Malia retorted, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. She couldn't believe that he was making it sound like her fear was unreasonable. Her hands shook as she bit back tears, her straightened hair falling out of place from the stress of the evening.

Mat's face softened a little, and he took a step closer to her. "Malia, come on. You're really gonna leave because of this?"

But Malia was already halfway to the door, her heart racing with the need to get out of the apartment. "I don't know," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "I just can't be here right now."

Mat sighed, hesitating to speak for a moment before he reached out to grab her arm. His grip was firm but not painful. "Don't go. I'm being a dick, I know, I'm sorry. Let's just talk this out."

Malia paused, her hand on the doorknob. She took a deep breath, the cold metal feeling solid and reassuring under her fingertips. She turned to face him, her eyes still shiny with unshed tears. "Mat, I'm not trying to control you. I just want you to understand that it's hard to watch someone you care about lose it like that."

Mat let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice calmer. "I get it. It's just... he said something about you."

Malia froze. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice low and cold.

Mat sighed heavily, his grip on her arm loosening. "He made a joke, some dumbass, weird joke about you. It pissed me off, and I couldn't just ignore it 'cause he kept goin’." His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of understanding.

Malia's heart skipped a beat. She had never thought that someone would say something so disrespectful about her, especially not to Mat's face. "What did he say?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mat's eyes grew dark with anger. "It doesn't matter. It was just a stupid comment, but it hit a nerve."

Malia felt a twist in her stomach. She didn't know what was worse: the fact that Mat had gotten into a fight for her or that someone had talked about her in such a way. "Mat, you can't fight every battle for me," she said softly, turning to face him. "I'm not on the ice, those guys will say whatever they think is gonna rile you up. They don’t know me. I’m just some girl to them. It’s not worth it.”

Mat's expression grew serious as he stepped closer to her, his hand dropping from her arm to cradle her face instead. "You're not just some girl, Malia. You're everything to me. And when someone disrespects you like that..." His voice trailed off, the intensity of his emotions clear in his eyes. "I couldn't just let it go. That's the least I can do for you."

Malia's gaze searched his, the anger in her heart slowly giving way to the love she had for him. She knew he didn't mean to downplay her strength, but the thought of him fighting over her hurt more than she cared to admit. She leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding her. "I love you," she whispered. "But I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

Mat's expression softened, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek. "I love you too," he murmured. "And I'll do my best to keep my cool out there if that's what you want."

Malia took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the night's events start to lift. "Don't 'if you want' me Mathew Barzal, do it because it's the right thing to do," she said with a hint of a smile.

Mat chuckled, his own smile spreading across his face. "Okay, okay," he conceded, leaning in to kiss her forehead gently. "But you know how competitive I am."

Malia rolled her eyes but couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through her at his touch. "I know," she said, her voice softer. "Just remember that I'm not just some prize to be won or lost out there. I'm your girlfriend, and I chose you."

Mat nodded, his thumb still caressing her cheek. "I know," he murmured. "And I'm sorry that I made it seem like that. It won't happen again." He spoke decisively before bending down to connect their lips.

Malia leaned into the kiss, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders melt away. "I just want you to be safe," she said, her voice muffled against his lips.

Mat pulled back, his eyes searching hers. "I know," he murmured. "And I promise, I'll keep that in mind. I don't want to scare you."

Malia's eyes met his, the fear and anger slowly receding as she saw the sincerity in his gaze. She took another deep breath and nodded. "Okay."

Mat's arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against her chest. They stood there for a moment, the tension in the room slowly dissipating.

"I know this isn't easy for you," he murmured into her hair. "But you gotta trust me out there."

Malia leaned into his embrace, the smell of his post-game musk mixing with the faint scent of his cologne. It was a familiar scent, one that brought comfort amidst the chaos of her emotions. "I will," she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

They stood there for a few moments longer before they both pulled away. Mat smiled down at her, the tension in his face slowly receding. "Now that that's over, do I get a reward for the win tonight?" he asked playfully, his eyes lightening.

Malia couldn't help but roll her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Maybe," she said, her voice teasing.

"Only maybe?" Malia heard the playful challenge in Mat's voice as she walked away from him. She glanced over her shoulder and gave him a look that was part glare, part smile.

"You're lucky you scored that winning goal." She brushed past her boyfriend with a swish of her hips, heading towards the bedroom. The bold 'Barzal' stuck out across her back, a symbol of her commitment to supporting him. Mat caught himself staring as Malia turned to him with a flourish of her hair.

"Are you coming?" Malia called over her shoulder, her voice a mix of tease and challenge.

Mat's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he watched her retreating form, his playfulness momentarily forgotten. He hurried after her, trying to match her pace as they entered the bedroom.

"I'm about to be," he quipped, his voice filled with affection, drawing a “Gross!” and a giggle from Malia.

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churipu · 1 year ago

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rules !

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bananaactivity · 1 month ago

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What happens when Kai learns about Marcus being a bionic android? Is it a big reveal, or does Kai shrug it off?

He doesn't learn anytime soon.

Think about FBI agents or like secret service and their families. There is an understanding that they do stuff in that vein but like you don't have all the info.

My version of LRELMM involves a lot more secrecy from the public about the island the bionic students and stuff like that. Adam Bree and Chase are the publics only eye into some of what Davenport industries have going on.

Due to my still WIP Mighty Med AU, Kaz, Oliver, and Skyler's identities are highly secret. No bionic excuse, they have to follow the rules of the super world. They actually get their own team comic made in universe for my hypothetical third MM season before they join the EF. Its called "Frost-Burn" and it ends up being pretty popular. (Oliver is Frost-flare, Kai is Wild-spark or Burn-Out ) That leads to fun stuff with Jordan and Gus noticing things that connect their friends to the comic heroes. And I think its funny if Chase is a Wild-Spark or Burn-Out superfan and is literally shocked when he finds out its Kaz)

Here is a segment of my fic that explains some stuff:

Leo, and Marcus along with Taylor and Logan Krane made up Team Francis pronounced Team Danger for some reason. They had been Mission Creeks B team after the original Daven-kids. But those guys had fucked off to go dick around in Centium City with some characters of who's “identities are highly confidential” a few months back.

This left Team Francis to be the front line and by extension some graduations at the island got pushed up to fill their vacant spot. Spin, Bob and his brother Daniel, made up what Leo referred to as Mission Creeks C team: Team Tots. Leo had been pretty fussy finding out they had to leave the safety of Mission Creek up to the Tots when they left but Marcus was pretty confident in Spin's ability to lead. So off they all went to Seaford…

I think Kai would only be allowed to know all the ins and outs if he and Marcus got married.

Which would not happen unless they both went through immense psychological therapy. They are both so deeply flawed with so much implied trauma there is no way in hell. Like reading my fic even in its draft form you can just feel all the manipulation and lack of emotional vulnerability and sense of healthy boundaries leaking from the both of them. (That's why its called a hate story)

They don't love each other in my fic. They are obsessed and crazy. Just like the originals LMAO.

If Kai found out tho he'd be less interested and more of a bully about it. My interpretation of him is older (21) and " reformed" that just means he blocked off all his violent tendencies behind a wall ,without working through them, that Marcus cracks so hes dealing with a barrage of emotions mentally while keeping a cold and unbothered exterior.

Non-cannon scene:

He'd been thinking about it for a while and he'd finally decided to do it.

“ Hey? Uh…K?”

"What." Kai didn’t even glance up, scrolling through his phone.

"Yeah… I—K, I need to tell you something," Marcus spat out, his voice a little off.

"You’re pregnant? Or are you secretly a wizard?" Kai tossed out, completely nonchalant. "Please tell me you’re a wizard, Davenport. That’d be fuckin’ hilarious."

Marcus sighed "No. I’m a Bionic android. My cousins are Adam, Bree, and Chase. I go on secret missions all the time and that's why I came to Seaford in the first place.” he sped out in one breath.

That made Kai stop scrolling. For a brief moment, his brain didn’t register the words, but then he looked at Marcus, deadpan, still not moving a muscle.

"Wait, what the fuck… Are you shitting me?" Kai raised an eyebrow, staring at him like he'd just said he was allergic to air. "Did you just say you're a robot?"

"An android," Marcus corrected..

Kai snorted. "Whatever, same difference. So, you’re telling me you’re like one of those fancy-ass Roombas but with feelings and… well, you look a hell of a lot better than a Roomba." He gave Marcus a once-over. "You don’t exactly scream ‘I’m a super advanced killing machine.’"

Marcus blinked.

“You’re really not freaking out?” Marcus asked, voice edging on frustration.

Kai shrugged, tossing his phone on the couch beside him.

“Really? I mean.. K?” Marcus crossed his arms, trying to look unimpressed but definitely feeling a little weird inside. “You're not even surprised? No ‘what the hell’ moment? I'm related to the most famous people of modern days?”

Kai looked at him for a long second before his lips curled into a smirk. “I mean, I did wonder why you always avoided using a microwave. Now it makes sense. So, are you, like, a secret government experiment, or did you just get bored one day and decide to live among humans, pretending to be one of us?”

“I'm not pretending, and I don't use the microwave because it's an inferior way of reheating food.” Marcus shot back quickly. “I’m just— Hey! I told you what I'm doing here! And my DAD made me, not the government.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever Daven-dork,” Kai interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Alright, so, you’re an android. Cool. Want me to start calling you 'Siri' or 'C-3PO' or should I go full 'Terminator' and start waiting for you to go rogue and destroy the world? Hasta la vista baby, right?"

Marcus was so flustered now, his usual cocky attitude slipping. “That was just a phase… I'm over that no-!”

“Just a phase? Sure buddy, just think about how good of a kisser I am when you decide to usurp the status quo… ” Kai said, cutting him off with a yawn. “Look, I don’t care if you’re some high-tech toaster. Just don’t start malfunctioning while we’re making out and electrocute me alright?”

“Okay?? I guess,” Marcus muttered, glancing away a little embarrassed.

Kai shifted, half-laying across the couch, his feet now casually resting on Marcus’s lap. “ Don’t start short-circuiting or glitching out either Davenport. I don’t need you flipping into ‘robot rage’ and throwing me through a wall or whatever.”

Marcus glared at him. “I’m not going to ‘short-circuit.` And you say that as if you don't throttle me in the Dojo every chance you get.”

"Please," Kai interrupted with a dramatic roll of his eyes. " All those times we’ve sparred… You were holding out while also beating me and you're just now telling me? That’s rich. Anyway, just don’t start malfunctioning, isn't that simple for your computer brain? I’m already dealing with your constant need for affection—I don’t need you literally shorting out my Wi-Fi.”

Marcus opened his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but instead, all that came out was a frustrated sigh. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you tolerate me, so deal with it, ‘R2-D2.’” Kai grinned, then, as if the revelation of Marcus being an android wasn’t that big of a deal, he leaned over and playfully ruffled Marcus’s hair. “Also, if you’re a robot, can I get an upgrade? Like, one where you don’t constantly annoy me?”

“Maybe upgrade your lip action too. That shits so ass” he muttered

“I’m not a robot!” Marcus groaned, slapping his hand away. “And I kiss great!”

Kai grinned. "Yeah okay buddy sure. You should be more grateful, Marcus. No one else would put up with your roboass. Just don’t go rogue on me or I’ll have to destroy you. I’m not getting a warranty on you anytime soon.”

Marcus shot him a glare “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a bionic android who could probably download a kissing app and you still suck at it. I guess we balance each other out. ”

#lab rats elite force #lab rats #mighty med #oliver mighty med #kaz mighty med #kai brewer #kickin it #leo dooley #douglas davenport #chase davenport #bree davenport #adam davenport #marcus davenport

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corporatefrog · 2 years ago

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╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 16; free ice cream

✧.* featuring kyle and yn walking to an unknown (and probably fine, totally not murderous) location : ̗̀➛ notes - here's your daily reminder to why i don't write serious things lmao tags - college au, superhero au, smau

series masterlist previous | next

Kyle didn’t tell me where we were going.

“We’re going to talk to the doctor.” He’d say as if it weren’t the most infuriatingly cryptic thing ever. What kind of superhero noir film does he think we’re in?

Rule number 1 is don’t follow men into unknown dark places. Granted, the men in those situations are built like a Jostar and super scary. Compared to that, Kyle is more of a pomeranian off his leash. I could tell him that Donald Glover leaves Community in the fifth season and he’d be out of commission for long enough to kick his lanky legs and take him down.

Why are we thinking about the specifics of physically restraining our friend?

You can never be too prepared.

Now you’re being cryptic. We aren't even in a sketchy area. Isn’t that literally craig’s house?

My focus returned to my surroundings as I noticed the houses lining the street. I’d only seen craig’s house once when Butters shared a picture of a bear standing in his driveway, thinking it was a dog, but that was enough to solidify the house to memory.

Without realizing, my steps slowed as I became lost in my thoughts again.

I’m in the neighborhood where Craig’s family lives. Clyde told me he lived in the same neighborhood with the guys for most of their life. That means Kyle probably lives in the same neighborhood too. Kyle knows about Butters.

And we’re diving in this hole, WHY?

Shut up, I’m onto something... I think.

Kyle knows about Butters. Butters is Chaos. We’re in Craig’s neighborhood. Craig. Butters. Kyle. Superheroes. Craig. Fucking SUPER CRAIG.

Holy shit. I forgot about Super Craig.

“KYLE!” I snapped back to reality. Kyle had gotten a half a block ahead of me. When he turned back, his own nervous gaze met mine. He held up a finger to his lips, gesturing to the dark street as a reminder that this isn’t the place to shout this late at night.

I pressed my lips together to hopefully hold back any other impulsive shouts and speed walked to catch up with him.

“Kyle we’re so fucking stupid. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it-” Kyle cut off my rambling.

“What? Is something wrong?” He asked, voice matching my own panic as his nerves bounced off of mine.

“Of course something is wrong. Craig’s a superhero too! Don’t you see it?” I asked, looking up at Kyle. Panic radiated off both of us, air growing electric as our thoughts bounced off of each other in a silent amplification of anxiety.

Kyle opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. He paused, then closed his mouth, swallowing the words. He turned away from me, continuing down the sidewalk as though I didn’t just drop a friendship altering bomb.

“Come on, we’ve got to get to Timmy’s house.” Kyle said over his shoulder, turning to walk up the steps of a house at the end of the block.

Who the fuck is timmy?

"Are we not going to address this? Or do I only get one theory confirmed every 24 hours?" I questioned, jogging to catch up with Kyle on the doorstep.

He didn't look in my direction. Instead he rung the doorbell and kept his eye trained on the entryway. "All of the above."

“This free ice cream better come with a month of therapy after this bullshit.” I muttered to myself as the door swung open revealing him. The one who is meant to answer all of my questions. The one who had the power to keep Kyle Broflovski silent.

Dr. Timothy.

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc

#next chapter is text so dont worry if you hate these #i have another story idea for after this that'll be more written oriented so pls lmk if you like this style!!#welcome back to the channel #south park smau #south park x reader #south park #corporatefrog #tfbw #sp tfbw #the fractured but whole

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dragimal · 26 days ago

Note

This is Mongrels' author. Appreciate the essay and the shout out - those stories might not be my best work but they're the stuff I had the best time writing. Fine details aside, I think Beastars is an interesting study of what happens when an author with sensibilities as unique as Paru Itagaki spends a year-plus making up a story as they go along. Contradicting/conflicting plot elements pile up til they block out the sun.

holy shit! it's crazy this got back to you so fast, I wasn't even sure my recs would get back to any of the creators at all.

I know I already said it in the essay, but those fics are just. genuinely some of the best I've ever read, easily in my personal top ten fics of all time. you really took the best parts (and somehow even some the worst parts) of Beastars and molded them into something fucking incredible. like, the way you captured the raw and often ugly emotions of the conflicts in Beastars... god it's gutting, I don't have a better word to describe it. I think about the scene with the coyote bombing the town square all the time, "I can’t get used to it," oh my fucking god. and your take on the Adler play makes me go fuckin nuts, like you didn't have to basically write an entire fake play for your fic but my god you did and it fucking rules!!!!

but yeah Beastars rly is a unique piece of work, in that way. few ppl are given the public platform to just go hog without careful control of the story or broad plans. it creates tons of problems, but I must admit it's kinda refreshing to see such a weird, uncontrolled story hit the mainstream, lmao

#I'm a bit starstruck wow!#shut up ashley

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be-side-my-self · 4 months ago

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Rewatch of Only Murders In The Building to prepare for season 4 (III)

Block #OMITBRewatch if you don’t want to read notes that will have spoilers up to seasons 3. Just to make it clear, while quoting, I use M, O, C for the main characters.

Also I'm putting this under a read more because it gets long.

S1 E9

Jen is freaky...

"Mable is gonna be looking at me with those damn Cocker Spaniel eyes. "

Oh! I like Pataki. She is so cool!

C: "Everybody loves Sazz."

Love how everyone thinks, that Sazz is Charles xD

Also Oliver just moving in with Charles.

It is kind of sad, that Jan is pushed to the sideline because of Sazz.

But Sazz is right, they ignored the motive... and yeah I remember.

Bunnie "First... Tim Kono's death has now been ruled a homocide and, apparently, one of you jerk-offs did it."

Bunny: "By a show of hands, who here thinks our building would be better off without these three fuckwads?"

Bunny: "The rest of you, in case you are a murderer, STOP MURDERING!"

So, how fucked up is it that you can lose your own apartment because enough of your neighbours don't like you? A place you own and still have to pay for?

It's sad... the whole breaking up of the trio...

Oscar: "See you, Ollie."

Sazz is great! But she is only half-right about Jen being the girl for Charles.

... oh that is so bitter, that Jen again gots sidelined.

Meanwhile Mable and Oliver solve the case.

S1 E10

Just 23 seconds...

Jan is freaky... but Kono was apparently a real beast too.

C: "What's going on?" M: "So, funny story..." O: "YOU'RE SLEEPING WITH A MURDERER!"

... wow Oliver is as tactful as a sledgehammer XD

Also ... the scandal! The age difference! In both directions! Don't let the anti's hear!

Yep... it's her handwriting all right. The same handwriting as the suicide notes, and the threats on the doors... my guys...

It is always a good idea to compare the notes.

I remember being annoyed about that the first time watching too.

It's cute that Charles always thinks the best of people.

C: "Can we not talk about Tim Kono right now?" Jan: "Of course. What do you wanna talk about?" C: "That I think I'm falling in love with you." Jen: "Oh. Well, that is interesting." *Long Pause that is totally not ominous and watching Jen's expression is not alarming at all.* Jan: "Because I think I'm falling in love with you, too."

Kinda awkward...

... Charles is confronting Jen...

Jen is freaky. Really freaky.

M: She's a poisoner... who uses a label maker?

"Jan's Lil T🖤xins"

O: "The saddest thing about this is that if Jan weren't a murderous maniac she'd be perfect for Charles."

lmao Charles is amazing, he figured out that it's a recording, he figured out the writing! He is the saving grace!

Of course she stabbed herself.

Jan is a freak.

Jan: "This is definiatly one of my rougher break ups, charles. I really did fall in love with you. Sadly, I will not be seeing you bas-sooner or later."

Siri is so stupid.

"Okay, playing "Fields of Gold" by Sting."

How no one is going to help Charles... but Sevelin is really cute!

HOW aBOUT YOU PULL THE FIRE ALARM?!

Love how Oliver knows how to stop "the thing" but has no words. And it's still working.

Charles speech is so good... so heartfelt! And in reality no one hears it. (slurred, garbled nonsense)

Good thing they managed to punch down Jan.

Bunny: "Oliver. It seems due to the events of tonight, there's been a reversal in sentiment regarding your tenancies here at the Arconia." O: "Oh, please just say it, Bunny. 'Welcome back you sexy thing!'" Bunny: "I'll get you gone sooner or later. You're all idiots!" M: "Hey, Bunny. Congrats. You're the most hated person in the building now, you cranky old bitch."

And that is called foreshadowing.

Yay, Willy and Oliver made up!

Mabel and Oscar are a cute couple.

Charles, contacting Lucy... and she answers!

*Charles recording the last lines of the podcast* M: "That was amazing." O: "I mean, I just... That-that's the best performance you've ever given. I have nothing left to teach you." C: "Really? So I can finally add 'voiceover acting' to my resume?" O: "Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Some lose ends... indeed... I know we met the next murderer already.

Aw... you two are already besties.

And we're back at episode one.

That is an incredible wrap and an incredible transition that makes you want to watch the second season instantly. Which we will do!

All three get taken into custody, because it looks like Mable killed Bunny.

Cinda Canning is such a bitch. You instantly feel sorry for Poppy.

S2 E1

That other detective is a real cliché. And a dick. Forgot his name, I'll add it alter.

Lmao, Mabel is correct. No murder weapon.

C: "Oh my god!" D: M: "Oh my god!" D: O: "Oh my god!" :D

Oliver lives for the attention.

O: "Like your beats?" M: "Huh?" O: "It's a callback."

M: "I need a life, away from death. "We should all just be a little bit boring again" O: "Can I just say something? I'd rather be dead than boring!"

Charles would watch people play chess in the park, Oliver would go have brunch.

I mean, come on... who called the cops? Who knew that there is a dead person in Mables apartment. That would be the question I'd ask as a detective.

#bloodymabel

user: goaskalice!

Alice is a great character but I really want to know what exactly happened with Oscar.

The mural is great!

O: "Well, hello there Amy Schumer."

Amy: "Would you ever consider selling me the right to the podcast, so I could turn it into an 8 to 10 episode streaming series with exclusive internet content, leading to gamification?"

Is there exclusive internet conten of "Only Murders in the Building"?

Uncle Brazzos

The short hair looks good on Mabel.

Alice is weird.

She never said it's not a cult.

"I'm Cinda Canning, bitch." - "Girl, you crime is showing." - "Tune in weekly as our investigation unfolds weekly."

American knitting is so different to our european? german? knitting.

O: "We need to go full "OliMabel" here." M: "What the fuck?" C: "What?" O: "OliMabel! That's our ship name. All our names put into one." C: "Where is the 'Charles' in 'OliMabel'?" O: "The Charles is silent."

... of course people ship them and it's an awful thought xD Also OliMabel for the OT3 is a BAD ship name. The shippers should be ashamed. Call them Murder-Trio or Podcast-Shipping... though Podcast-Shipping might be any of the main three with Cinda. CharOliMa would still be better... really fictional fans are always so weird. And that says something. XD

Bunny: "Fuck off, Oliver."

Time for a call back to Ace Attorney.

M: "Bunny had a bird?"

Bunny was a freak.

I actually like the friendship between Bunny and Uma... also Howard, kinda.

Uma: "There should be a naked man on this wall! Where are the balls, Howard?"

That old Elevator is really cool.

C: "We find the painting, we find the killer."

And so starts season two.

Charles: Come here right away Charles (Old): Come here right away

There is the painting. And it shows Charles dad... but I don't see any balls.

S2 E2

Archibald (Bunny's grandpa and the arcitect) was a freak!

Charles dad was old when he had Charles.

M: "The painting is called Savage."

Guys, I'm not native speaker but the word "savage" has a meaning and especially in an erotic context it is probably a double innuendo considering that one of the models was named "Savage".

Thanks Howard.

IT TOOK ME UNTIL NOW TO SEE THAT BUNNY IS WALKING HER BIRD, MRS GAMBOLINI, IN THE INTRO! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

Uma, screw off tops on wine bottles are not a sign of low quality wine. I don't think they even sell new bottles with cork, And wine maker agree on this. it's a bit cheaper and better for the environment.

Nina Lin... last season she was not that pregnant. Time passed.

Uma and Bunny were such good friends.

"I am Leonora Folger. The mother of Bunny."

O: "Please, be cool." C: "Hey, who is cooler than me?" M: "Everyone."

People who hate us: Uma, Teddy Dimas, Theo Dimas, Jen

Charles putting himself as a possible suspect.

Alice: "Um, yeah, we all work back here. Some... Sometimes, I like to cry back here because I'm a fraud. It's a multipurpose space." ... ah... the artist expierence and self depricating jokes. How awkward.

Even during the first run I did not like Alice. She came off as somewhat weird... I don't like the self depricating and sometimes her comments are off-handed also that other thing she does at the end of the season... so yeah. I was willing to cut her some slack but she is awful. Great character though! And of course Cara Delevingne is doing an amazing job!

Alice: "I've been hideously blocked for a year, stuck in the past, no moving forward. Do you ever feel that way?" M: "Yeah, all the time." Alice: "Hm, stupid question. Of course you do."

I like to draw but honest to god, I don't get art.

OF COURSE THE PICTURE IS GONE!

Amy: "Hey Putnum! Never touch my dumpster art."

Amy: "My pesky lawyers tell me I can't make deals with murderers...again."

I don't like Alice humor even though it's not so far off from Mables.

Well, there is the kiss.

Amy is a freak. Lmao

Love how the police did not give a fuck about a small boy.

Call back to Ace Attorney.

#OMITBRewatch #Only Murders in the Building #Only Murders in the Building Rewatch #Rewatch #Only Murders in the Building Season 1 #Only Murders in the Building Season 2

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dangerous-disposition · 2 years ago

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WIP wordsearch game!

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

tagged by the bestest @scarcrossdlvrs

All of my snippets are gonna be coming from my modern AU stuff which I've shared a lot of already but WHATEVER i typically can't have several projects running at the same time lmao

First

In a bunk bed on a tour bus on the other side of the country, Eddie Munson stared at the phone in his hand with a little smile tugging at his mouth.

It was a short conversation but there was something really nice about having a conversation with someone who treated him like a normal human being. It had been years since Eddie could talk to someone other than his band mates, manager, and uncle without it being either drenched in starstruck hero-worship or stilted professionalism.

At first, that had been exciting. They finally made it. After all of their hard work and grinding and sleepless, penniless weeks of driving themselves to gigs, they did it. Eddie wasn’t the local drug dealing deadbeat loser every high school teacher believed he would be forever. He was somebody, and people either worshiped him or at least respected him.

He just never expected stardom to become so lonely.

Blank

Sitting back down at his desk, Steve pulled up the details for the block and opened the rooming list the tour manager sent.

He was startled, but appreciative of the fact that the riders were included in the same document, even if that meant that the rooming list was given to him in the worst possible format. A goddamn PDF.

Grumbling to himself, Steve did what he did best; tucked himself in to read the contract from top to bottom, then back again, then did the same with the riders. Then came all the technical stuff of building the room block, then struggling through getting the names off the PDF and into a spreadsheet to book the rooms.

“They could’ve sent this when it was still a Word document but no,” Steve grumbled bitchily, shoving his glasses back up his nose. “They had to be all fancy and important and send it as a fucking PDF.”

Finally, when that was all done and the rooms were confirmed, Steve pulled up a blank email and the tour manager’s contact details in their system.

The manager’s name was Chris Cunningham, according to the information the above-property sales manager input, and something about that name did sound familiar. Steve couldn’t place it right away, so he gave up trying and went back to starting his email.

Under

Steve sat at his desk typing up an email to one of the event managers’ clients, quietly grumbling to himself about why he had to email them without any real heat. The managers were busy, and sometimes it just made more sense for Steve to email them outright. He would do it, he would just bitch about it while he did it.

“Steve.”

Looking up, he met Joyce’s eyes and cringed under her stern face.

“Yes, Joyce?” he asked, but he already knew what this was about.

“I was looking through the turnovers. Did Nancy give you a group the other day?” she asked and Steve looked at his computer.

“It’s just a band and film crew. I’ve already made contact with the client,” Steve said, his ears heating up when Joyce sighed.

“I’d like to speak to you in my office, please,” she said and walked away.

Sighing heavily, Steve finished the email he was working on, sent it, and locked his computer. When he got up and turned, Nancy was hovering at her cubicle and chewing her lip.

“Sorry,” she mouthed and Steve just rolled his eyes and trudged across the room to Joyce’s office and shut the door.

Lips

“Nancy seems to think that if she turned it over properly and asked for you to assign it to me, you would assign it to one of the other managers,” Steve said with a knowing raise of his eyebrows when Joyce looked away and cleared her throat. “C’mon, she has a point, Joyce.”

“That’s because if I agreed to assign every group she wants given to you, you would be back in the same mess as you were last summer,” Joyce said a bit defensively. “Tell me about the group, and I’ll decide if you can keep it.”

“I already made contact with the client!” Steve said.

“And you were not actually assigned this group properly. If I decide I want to take the group from you and reassign it, that is my decision to make as Director of Events,” Joyce said, standing her ground.

Steve sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes. “You would undermine your team like that in the eyes of the client?” he asked and Joyce pursed her lips.

“And Nancy didn’t undermine me by going over me to assign you a group?” she challenged and Steve sighed heavily.

Deep

“Whatever, the point is Chrissy knows I always have her phone when she can’t find it. Her freaking out is just silly,” Eddie said with a sniff, glaring down at the Sudoku puzzle he was making zero progress with.

“Edward Munson!”

Jeff peered over the edge of his bunk to smirk at Eddie’s wide-eyed stare. “Uh oh,” he teased as Chrissy stormed into the room.

“You!” she practically shrieked, pointing at him as he shoved the phone between his body and the mattress as if she hadn’t already seen it in his hands.

“What?” he asked innocently, and he screamed as she dove into his bunk to wrestle the phone out from under him.

They tussled for a while, Chrissy yelling all sorts of expletives at him that were honestly still a shock coming from her sweet face. She was also a dirty fighter.

“Ow, shit! Did you just bite me?” Eddie hissed, grabbing Chrissy’s whole face and pushing her away as he looked at the distinctly teeth-shaped indents on his arm. They were deep, just barely not breaking skin and would definitely bruise.

Then Chrissy licked his palm like an animal, and he recoiled enough that he rolled off of her phone.

Okay! Now my no pressure tags: @pizzaqueen, @patchworkgargoyle, @scoops-stevie, @steddieas-shegoes, @afewproblems

And your words are: wish, falter, teeth, little, breath

#gerry writes #tag game #wip tag game #i love these so much i wrote 1400 words tonight just to have new stuff for 'first' and 'deep'#platonic hellcheer

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epicfranb · 1 year ago

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Here are my reactions to Bdubs's first Secret Life episode!

EPISODE STARTS WITH ETHUBS GREAT START I'M LOVING THIS ALREADY 👏👏👏

Bdubs really digs his mine ONE BLOCK AWAY FROM ETHO'S 😭😭😭 I'm telling you this man is NOT OKAY

This is like them pissing together except mining 1 block apart from each other (cuz they're not gay)

"You can't even tell your best friend" you mean yourself? "You can't even tell me" yup.

"I really wanna tell you really bad" I'M TELLING YOU THIS IS THE PERFECT START.

LIZZIE IS BACK NOW I ACTUALLY FEEL THE HYPE HELLOOOOO!!!!

Mesa on the map 👀

Bdubs feels so bad about killing horses god bless his pure soul 😭😭

Oh so they can't regenerate AT ALL once they lose their hearts they are GONE. No potions no gapples nothing

YOU CAN GIFT HEARTS??? this is huge

"My boy Bdubs" Etho is also not okay

Bdubs in Last Life gives Etho a shield bc Etho forgets them all the time... This season Etho remembers the shields first and then makes Bdubs one.... And they giggle so sweetly :( I HATE THEM...

And now they're reminiscing about good old times. Great

MUMBO IS ALSO IN IT???? How many people do we have this time?! Is Ren in this one?

They didn't play on 1.18 generation in LimLife where everyone died left and right but they DO play it on the season where you can't regenerate hearts. Awesome decision making

Paused on this bit and just want to say. Team STEM

Aww Mumbo Pearl and Bdubs neighbors? :O :D

That was just three nicknames in a row with no pause in between. Skizz comes in saying "Pearlie-Pop! :D" Pearl goes "Skizzlie!! :D" and Bdubs instantly goes "Hey Skizzie!!!" They are so silly and whimsical

Bdubs: Hey Skizz i have words of affirmation for you

Skizz: That's so last season 🙄

Bdubs: *collects Cleo's wheat* nothing to see here! Just borrowing some stuff! 🥰

Cleo: Oh that's fine , they're not mine, they're Lizzie's :D

Bdubs: OH SHOOT*glues the sugar cane back on*

I see this man has his priorities straight 😭😭

THEY GET OP REWARDS FOR COMPLETING SECRET TASKS???

BDUBS REALLY SUGGESTED HIM MUMBO AND PEARL BE CALLED AXIS THANK GOODNESS CLEO WS THERE

So Bdubs is now sort of in a team with Mumbo and Pearl. The question is though: will be be undyingly loyal to them 🤔

The rock thing with the rewards is so watcher-core you just know the watcher fandom will eat well this season LMAO

Cleo: Hey Bdubs where's your boyfriend?

Bdubs: Etho is...

That's it. I'm done. This season has peaked. I don't even know what to say anymore. I'm quitting. My career is over. I don't have anything else to do or say I'm done.

I CAN'T BELIEVE BDUBS ANSWERED BEFORE FULLY PROCESSING WHAT CLEO SAID. HIS BRAIN JUST WENT "My boyfriend? Oh yeah that's Etho" i actually flat out CANNOT believe it's only the first episode and is already gayer than Last Life 😭😭😭

Riding a camel wearing a helmet (against the rules) holding tnt like a slut he is

I wonder if the admins themselves assign everyone their tasks. Whether that's the case or not, it's VERY ironic that Bdubs, a master builder, gets a task to build the ugliest house known to man and people end up looking at it and going "what a creative idea!" and decide to make it there gimmick as well.

ETHO'S TASK IS TO GET EVERYONE TO SLEEP AT NIGHT?! THAT'S CRUEL MAN i can't wait to hear him whine and whimper about it in his video

Joel wants to build a mound as well? 👀 Bdubs and Joel alliance? 👀

THE MOLES. GREAT

Mumbo's "tell a bunch of puns" and Etho's "get everyone to sleep at once" you can clearly see who is watchers' favorite etc etc

Scar threatens to burn down Jimmy's house againSJJDKDKDKFJJDJ

Skizz: *hears Bdubs's secret* i do that without a task xD

Skizz: we're all pretty old, maybe our island is called Heart Problems 😭😭 he says out of nowhere

Can't believe Tango and Skizz lit up their island and get attacked by 2 baby zombies, a creeper, a witch and a Trident drowned 😭😭😭

#life updates #secret life

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tojiscrack · 1 year ago

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𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒:

note: i don’t mean to make this restricting, but if this blog is supposed to be a safe place for everyone (including myself) we might need some ground rules about what can and cannot happen here :)

requests:

you can ask for small drabbles to do with fictional characters you might be interested in. has to have a prompt, of course, so i know what i’m writing about

no [nsfw] content. the only thing that borders it slightly that is allowed could be random thoughts or head canons you might have of a particular character (in short, i still want you to be able to express random, funny thoughts you have because at the end of the day, we’re all simps for these fictional characters and completely down bad lmfao)

the awkward thing about requests is when someone asks you to write about a particular character that you dislike or despise. in order to prevent this, i’ll quickly jot down characters i like/dislike <3

i only write for fem!readers seeing as all my fics and works are self indulgent. that being said, in terms of what the reader is described as, my works are friendly for any and all skin types and hair types! :) (i try to make it so that it is, if you spot anything that you feel isn’t poc friendly, don’t be afraid to send me a message about it so it can be corrected!)

fandoms i write for:

aot and jjk

other mentions:

in the nicest way possible, i don’t want criticism on anything i write. i make fics for my enjoyment, to please myself and indulge for me. i only aim to do this with you all, not for you all.

on the contrary, i do like feedback on my writing. as long as it is polite, i’m okay with any other comments. i enjoy reading your thoughts!!

no hate comments will be tolerated in the comments or my inbox. i’ll respond to them if i feel the need to, and then straight after that, you’re getting blocked bcz you are a stranger on the internet - i truly do not have time for your ass lmao

if you support israel, get the fuck off my page and never return. you’re not welcome here, don’t stay where you’re unwanted. #freepalestine

why i might have blocked you:

i don’t block anyone at all, but if i have, it’s probably due to 2 reasons: 1. because of an interaction you’ve had with me that wasn’t pleasant. in other words, it wouldn’t have come out of blue. i’m never part of any drama lol, so you most likely won’t have to worry about this part (though it is safe to keep this up just in case)!! :) or 2. your posts with ships that i simply dislike (and/or hate) have come up on my feed a frequent number of times and i’m just tired of seeing it. this doesn’t mean i have any ill intent towards you when i block you, i just want to enter the app without seeing things i don’t exactly want to see! :)

who can interact?

anyone and everyone!

however, do not interact if you come under the following: racist, islamaphobic, misogynistic, homophobic, anti-semetic, zionist, etc.

people under 18 can interact! this also includes ageless blogs :)

protection of my writing:

one thing that makes my writing specifically known as mine is the way i write y/n or the plot — usually follows a more comedic/crack type of story rather than an actual… story, lmfao?? i will not allow for anyone to take certain scenes i’ve written (and i’ll know, trust me, bcz i come up with them as they’re all inspired from IRL events of my own life) and then incorporate them into their own story. in short: i will not allow plagiarism, stealing my ideas, taking inspo from my writing without credit, and so on.

anything ranging from copying my stories to translating my work in another language is definitely not allowed.

i am certainly not against anyone promoting or recommending my story on their social media! i think it’s cute and incredibly wholesome <33

aot characters i am not willing to write for:

floch and zeke

jjk characters i am not willing to write for:

sukuna, mahito and kenjaku

rules last updated:

14th of april, 2024

that’s all!! enjoy your stay <3

#took me a while #but it’s done #aot #attack on titan #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yeah that’s it tbh #all for a new theme lmao #it was abt time i changed it

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possiblelove · 2 years ago

Text

I think I've reread this about 15 times since you posted it.

Peter follows you home that afternoon like a stray cat, babbling over a game of twenty questions that you aren’t in the mood to entertain.

are you not phased by the active shooter incident pierre?

You quickly shoot more webs after a quick scan of your surroundings to swaddle yourself in something resembling a cocoon.

you can't have silk!reader without a web cocoon ever that's the rule

"Holy shit! Does it ever… run out? Do you get web blocks? Does it come out of anywhere else–" "I’m not answering that." Your cheeks heat up at the insinuation.

hfjskfslaksd

He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. It’s not right for him to think of you as an extension of himself, but he often yearns for your presence like a phantom limb whenever you aren’t on patrol with him. He realizes you're the yang to his yin.

your description of their relationship is everything to me

"Rabbit." You sigh dramatically at the nickname.

artemis silkscream trademark nickname!!!

You’d become so accustomed to him that your spider-sense would dull when it came to Peter. He was your source of comfort.

extension of the self...... source of comfort..... oouggghhhh they're soooooooo. yeah.

He doesn’t keep his promise – chem labs are already kicking his ass halfway to Thanksgiving break, not to mention the crime rate in New York City rockets beyond normal.

the literal bane of my existence (i don't care about crime)

Your week off is filled with missed texts and a marathon of TV shows about broken women—the kind with dark humor and falling in love with priests.

FLEABAG omg

He likes the way you look when you concentrate. Sometimes, when you’re deep in thought, he likes to take his thumb and smooth out the ridges of your furrowed brows even though you end up swatting him away. When he does this now, you look up at him with wide, doe eyes.

🥹

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

scream scream scream screeaaammmmm

He’d rather die a thousand deaths than have you know what you do to him in his dreams when you’re nothing but a reverie of your own silk-spun webs and soft, bare skin. You treat him like prey. He loves it.

Your writing style and syntax is so entrancing and addictive I would read a driving manual in. it's entirety if you wrote it.

Sometimes he follows you. It feels almost meditative for him to sit on a rooftop and watch you from the window of your favorite cafe, reading and writing and breathing.

ok Stalker.

Peter’s face nearly goes cold at the sound of someone else’s name, though he stays composed.

lmao

Despite that, there’s a piece of you tethered to him that he can’t bear to cut off. It makes him feel sane, the parts of you that you’ve given him.

he is so pathetic i love him

But when he scans the room this time, you’re downing a glass of champagne alone.

she just like me

"He’s still a little fruity, though."

yeah i bet he is

The only other time Peter has been this drunk was once in high school, when he was slurring his words all night and determined to clutch you like a teddy bear in his twin-sized bed. When you think about taking Peter home tonight, you feel like you aren’t allowed to lay next to a body that doesn’t belong to you.

i need to live inside your brain

Peter makes a gulping sound that makes your face pale. Immediately, you grab his trash bin and place it between his feet.

NOO THE WAY I WOULD ABANDON HIM

Peter takes a strand of your hair in his hands and curls it around his finger. His shallow breaths feel louder than they should be. Or maybe they’re yours. He can’t really tell.

its so embarrassing how i audibly sigh after each line i read

He always knew how to calm you down. And now, in your adult lives, you were doing it for him.

"No, that’s not fair. That’s not… okay." "What?" "You’re drunk, Peter. Don’t do that to me. Please." "What am I doing?"

im going to throw up je vais me gratter les yeux et je vais m'arracher les cheveux oh mon dieu

It’s a miracle that Michelle Jones sees through Peter’s bullshit because it means that she has the incentive to protect herself from any future bullshit that may break her later on.

love her eternally peter annoys me endlessly

An explosion blasts in the center of a park, where the two of you would meet in the middle between Queens and Stark Tower. This is where you lay your courage down. This is where you find Spider-Man’s mangled body before anyone else does.

this might be my favourite few lines from the entire fic i cannae get it out of my head

It’s like he steals the words from your mouth. He beats you to it.

The way you show how connected they are is everything

But of course, you are, he protests in his head. You are the moon and the stars and everything in between.

literal heart eyes

"I’m okay, Rabbit. We’re okay."

so tender im going to cry

Maybe he was something else. Half-ghost. Half-angel.

i just like this line

We. We. We.

oui oui oui

"I am aware and perfectly fine with being a passenger princess. In fact, I’m looking forward to it," you grin.

you wrote y/n with me in mind.... i know you did

"Um, webrobrup," he mumbles. He frowns as he looks down. Hot Cheeto fingers.

i can't get over the fact that he's only just saying it and its unintelligible

"Shit. You really fumbled, then."

i'm better than him i'd never let MJ go

It feels like wanting to share the same skin.

this is such an incredible way to articulate it

Peter likes watching you talk, and you like that he watches you so intently. When you know he's watching, it's easy to deadpan some drunken jokes and elaborate superfluous tall tales from your high school days.

i will shoot myself

Angel. He's never called you that before. You decide that you like the sound of it.

heh heh ehehe

In Peter's blurred vision, you look like a friendly apparition, one that particularly favors "Champagne Coast" by Blood Orange.

omg eternal wedding song biting u biting u bitimg y

Peter wishes that he could bottle up this moment to revisit it, or maybe live in it for the rest of his life. The sweetest way to exist.

AUGHKFLKASFHKA

"I'd like to see you try, angel."

i was never very fond of angel as a pet name but i am willing to make an exception for you ree

So he kisses you.

squealing

"I owe Ned twenty bucks."

is this bitch serious.....

You’ll be delighted when you wake up to a bruise on your thigh stuck in the shape of Peter Parker’s mouth.

His pleasure is the knife you twist inside yourself.

LITERALLY

“I think I owe Ned fifty bucks now.”

ARI STOP IT OMFG

“You’re my guardian angel. Always have been. And you’re not allowed to complain about it being corny because it’s true.”

this was amazing I loved reading this fic so much my brain has turned to mush

angel unaware

ꨄ︎ pairing: peter parker x silk!reader

ꨄ︎ synopsis: you’ve known peter since you were fifteen, shortly after you were both bitten by the same spider. it was too obvious that you’d end up loving him. as you drift apart during your first year of college, you’re not sure how much longer you can keep dancing in circles with him.

ꨄ︎ genres: best friends to lovers, angst, idiots in love, slowburn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort

ꨄ︎ tags: rated explicit/18+ (smut), alcohol usage, mention of drug usage, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), characters are 19, mild violence, gun violence (there is a school shooting in the beginning but there aren’t too many details)

ꨄ︎ wc: 13.8k

ꨄ︎ notes: omg. happy valentine’s day y’all. i’ve been working on this Big Bertha for literal MONTHS and i’m so happy to finish it and share it with you. thank you for being around even though i haven’t been the most active; this is a gift to you <3

ꨄ︎ listen to the playlist!

The spider bit you first.

It isn’t until you’re fifteen that someone else finds out about it.

In many ways, you should’ve known. The symptoms, the hypervigilance, the strange, gradual transition of filling out your body. You blame puberty first, but this feels more than abnormal. It’s almost as if it’s bursting through your skin. The only other person who seems to mirror your coming of age is Peter Parker, whose twitchy nature exacerbates the longer high school goes on.

You keep your head low because there’s no reason for you to tell anyone about your powers. Not even the boy about whom you’re positive shares the same curse as you.

But then the videos come out. Red and blue lycra flying through buildings, a blurred figure saving cats from trees, webs shooting and swaying as onlookers stare like it’s a circus act. He calls himself Spider-man and you think it’s awfully corny.

Keep reading

#fav writer of all time im carving out a jess-shaped hole in ur brain and im staying there forever and ever and ever and ev

6K notes · View notes

nowoyas · 3 months ago

Text

FAQ and Rules

General rules:

I will likely never write kidfic, pregnancy fic, breeding kink, or anything related. Please do not suggest or tag me in posts surrounding these topics.

I will probably never write a dom!reader. Switch!readers will be considered under duress. I'm a full sub and, fundamentally, writing things that I personally want to read, so dominant readers do absolutely nothing for me.

I do not accept requests, but I DO accept suggestions. The key difference being, suggestions are just that: throw an idea at me and I'll see whether I can work with it or not. I may not be able to make anything out of it, but I'll definitely give it a shot and see if it's something I have any ideas for. This is bc forcing myself to do requests I'm not inspired for just turns out like... less-good stuff, lmao.

Generally, I am not opposed to darkfic if the right mood strikes and the premise seems interesting. I'm not as confident in treating darker topics, but I welcome the practice!

I will probably never write an explicitly unhappy ending or pure angst without any sort of following comfort. I'm just not really into them.

I block liberally. If you approach in bad faith, I will block you. There is no reason we cannot have a civil conversation on whatever you're mad about. You can cry "tone policing" all you want, but I don't have the time to deal with people who are approaching a disagreement to argue and get mad. Approach with the intent to come to a more complete understanding, or don't bother. (This includes assumptions of malice when it comes to ignorance. I have zero tolerance for assuming anyone's lack of knowledge is a moral failing and not simply an opportunity to learn.)

Do not censor words such as "rape" or "incest" or "pedophilia" in asks to me or while otherwise holding a conversation with me. Do not censor words such as "rape" or "incest" or "pedophilia" in asks to me or while otherwise holding a conversation with me. Do not censor words such as "rape" or "incest" or "pedophilia" in asks to me or while otherwise holding a conversation with me. This is not tiktok. It will never be tiktok. At the point that this website starts trying to be tiktok, I will stop using it. You are allowed to say fuck and pedophile and suicide and kill. If you personally are not comfortable using the word, then you are not able to have a conversation around the topic using the word. I will delete asks and ignore reblogs that contain any form of this sort of censorship. You are making it harder for people with triggers to avoid potentially triggering content.

Why are you opposed to DNIs/why don't you have a DNI?

Put simply, they don't do anything. The only people I particularly am against interacting with entirely are people who are going to be rude, aggressive, violate my clearly stated boundaries, or who interact in bad faith, and these people... aren't going to give a shit if I have a paragraph somewhere on my blog telling them I don't wanna talk to them. The other category of DNIs would be having something somewhere about minors not interacting, which, like, if they're mature enough to abide by the 18+ warnings they're probably fine anyway. I do not have the energy to set these types of boundaries and enforce them--I am disabled, I am mentally ill, and I am fucking tired. I use tumblr for fun. What's left of these two groups after the DNI are people who don't care about my boundaries and people who are lying, and in many cases, if both parties approach a thing in good faith, we CAN have a conversation about whatever it is we're disagreeing on and one (or both) of us can reach a more informed opinion. If we can't, if they're approaching in bad faith or it turns out they were pretending to be of legal age in order to talk to me about age-inappropriate topics, that's what blocking is for.

So you're okay with minors reading your smutfics?

Minors are going to read them anyways. Lying about your age on the internet is a rite of passage, and I am not under the illusion that sixteen year olds haven't heard of sex before coming across a fic I wrote. What I am not okay with is minors interacting directly with me in conversation about 18+ topics, because I am an adult. This will be enforced first by a "hey your bio says you're like 15 I'm not comfortable talking about smut with you" and then by a block. Choosing not to use a DNI isn't because I think kids should do whatever, it's a recognition that a DNI is the equivalent to a "no girls allowed" sign on the bedroom door and won't prevent anything except the people who are probably mature enough to be an exception anyway.

Did you know you follow someone who ships x/writes RPF/likes this fandom?

You and I have fundamentally incompatible approaches to the concept of free time. One day, we are all going to die. We're going to die messy and broken and marked with all the things we've done, good and bad. Do you realize how little time there is in a day? I sleep seven and a half hours, on average, a night, and work shifts that are usually about seven hours without any breaks. I spend half an hour on the road. Every day, I have three meals to prepare, eat, and clean up after, and I have a million hygiene tasks to take care of to keep my body clean and functioning. If I slack on cleaning my apartment for even a second, the roaches invade. I host or take part in 3-4 writing events a week and am working on writing an original novel in between prolific fic writing and all my other hobbies. I'm not going to waste the few minutes I have left in the day worrying about the guy writing incest shipfic about the Zoboomafoo brothers, or debating you about why I should. I have to use the time I have left to fulfill my soul before my body completely falls apart.

Okay but what if you follow someone that's racist/pedophilic/transphobic/etc.?

Sure, let me know, but I do need proof instead of an anon ask that just claims a random tumblr user hates minorities or is into kids. And no, liking a character from some piece of media, shipping characters who are 17, or aging up characters for smut (or even NOT aging them up) is not pedophilia. Show me proof that they are actually attracted to real children and not sets of lines that do not have ages and cannot experience harm, and I will take you seriously. If the subject you are telling me about is a minority in some way, you need twice the proof, and if they're queer, you need quadruple the proof and also to go read up on the history of the queer community, including the parts where queers are repeatedly accused of pedophilia or marked as dangerous to children as an excuse to legislate against and oppress us.

So are you proship?

I'm actually just tired. If you're asking whether or not I think certain topics should be disallowed from being the subject of art and whether or not those topics should be censored, the answer is that I'm not fucking Plato, so no, I don't think art needs to only portray that which is morally good and advances the goals of the state, nor do I trust any entity on the internet, especially on websites with a profit motive such as tumblr, to decide what constitutes morally good art.

[insert hot button queer discourse here]

Look, man, discourse has historically been used to divide the community. Save it for when we're not at risk of our sexualities being illegalized, and maybe then we can entertain the granularities of the situation. Everyone is queer, unless they aren't. No, I will not censor the word queer. I also won't censor "faggot" or "tranny". I didn't get my life threatened in a Zaxby's for you to tell me what words I can call myself or that I'm not really oppressed or whatever new discourse the feds have successfully implemented this year.

You're a bi lesbian and also a man? How does that work?

Back in the day, any woman who liked women was a lesbian, including bi women. I call myself a bi lesbian because my primary sexual attraction is focused on women. I am multiple genders in a way that is too complicated to explain. You're just going to have to meditate under a waterfall for a thousand years and achieve true mental transcendence, but if you're going under for dental surgery anytime soon, it can have the same effect.

I saw you talking about being Buddhist/Jewish/Shinto...

Yeah, cus I am! Maternal line Jewish, but raised Evangelical Christian (which I have since thoroughly disavowed because, like, come on man). I'm considering conversion someday, but don't currently live in an area with much of a Jewish community at all, so this isn't feasible for me and so I haven't yet put much thought into it. Most sects of Judaism do consider me Jewish as I have an unbroken maternal line, so conversion is for my own sake. I arrived, independently, at an explanation of my own beliefs that ended up being very similar to Shinto, so it's simpler for me to just say I'm Shinto than to list off a bunch of things that just so happen to be true of Shinto, and I practice Zen Buddhism as it's often intertwined with Shinto practices.

Ok but did you know about [whatever atrocity/zionism/state Shinto]

This is not an appropriate response to learning someone's religious beliefs, and in the vast majority of cases, I do, in fact, know more than you on the subject. For some reason, historically non-white religions tend to invite a lot of people who don't practice or have any firsthand knowledge of the religion to demand that every practitioner they meet come prepared with a Master's thesis denouncing atrocities committed under their religion's name. In the future, don't approach strangers to demand their stance on these things.

#admin stuff #faq

0 notes

eternclstud · 4 months ago

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some girls just can't resist my good looks , my style and my charm , my unflinching ability to listen to … taylor swift . ind & sel ( low act . ) damon salvatore from the vampire diaries , s1 - 2 canon compliant , with some elements from s3 , and others ripped from the books . will not acklowedge anything past / mid season 3 as canon . if you hate damon / delena , or can't stand seeing ian's face this is not the blog for you , curate your dash . 18+ blog . damon is a vampire , and a dick , expect blood , gore , and nsfw themes . minors dni . written by lenny .

hcs + pinterest + playlist

exclusives with : @survivcrsgvilt . this is a sideblog , i follow from @bitmiscuous

some rules under the cut:

i don't wanna go on and on about stuff, so regular rules apply: don't metagame/godmode without permission , be nice , don't harass me for replies .

if u hate damon for x and x reasons thats valid , but i don't intend to soften his characterization to cater to anyone else except for myself . please don't harass me about playing a fictional character . this is a character i write for fun , and while i can acknowledge his behavior would not be okay irl , i am a grown individual who is quite therapized and very capable of dicerning between reality and fiction , i look at tvd through the goggles of entertainment , everyone is fucking everyone and a murder is just another thursday , nobody's very fazed . his fictitious crimes simply do not bother me , i find the character compelling all the same , and if they bother you that's completely fair , but again , not the blog for you .

if u can't tell , i'm pretty trigger free , so triggers will be present on this blog but i'll try to tag the more obvious ones .

i'm completely refusing to accept the 'off switch' in my canon , i'm sorry but i fucking hate that plot device lmao .

anything and any characters post s3 don't exist to my damon , we can still plot , but all the nonsense that happened won't be applicable . this means no stupid sire bond , no siren , no enzo , no lab , no dumb canon about their mom being a vampire god help me ... i think u get the gist . ik about later seasons from friends , but haven't watched from s3 onwards and i have no intention to do so , soooo ... yeah .

english isn't my first language , i'm not super knowledgeable in the us either . i'm doing my best , be patient with me , have a cookie .

i'm stealing some of the more gothic-like elements from early s1 / the book . i think they were dope . there might be mentions of fog / the crow if i feel spicy , i'm not sure how much yet so i'll leave this be .

in othello's words : "i am one who loved not wisely but too well". damon is a complicated dude , he's selfish and cruel and reckless guy , loving and being loved by him is not easy , that doesn't mean he can't love people . he does ... his own way . he loves his brother , and that doesn't stop him from being selfish , and punishing him . he won't let him die , but he won't let him have peace either . he'd take a bullet for him , but he'd also cause him immesurable pain , usually as a consequence of his recklessness , but sometimes intentionally . he loves elena , that does not make him unselfish , or not dangerous to literally everyone around her . and depending on the verse (though i'll argue he'll always carry a torch for her) , damon loves katherine , and it doesn't keep her from idealizing her into something she never was to begin with , being petty and vengeful and mean . he's fueled by love , but that love doesn't always make him kind , and occasionally it makes him crueler . he's a complex dude , and i like writing about it , if this or him make you in any way uncomfortable , please , curate your dash , block me , do what you have to do , no hard feelings . just please don't come for me over a fictional character , thank you .

if i think of anything else i'll add to this <3

0 notes

lemonzestywrites · 1 year ago

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weekend wip game

tagged by the wonderful @your-catfish-friend thank you love!!

rules: list your WIPs below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future WIPs/ideas!) then answer the following questions. then, tag as many people as you have WIPs (or more)

1. WIP list

wips

• a foundation of trust and love we cannot see (the big beast in question! my buddie fwb bdsm fic)

• 10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship (buck reads through a relationship self-help book while hooking up with eddie just guys being bros)

• fell in love with the fire long ago (buddie firewatch au!!)

• go on running (straight into my arms) (werewolf!buck x vampire!eddie smut)

2. which one of your wips is currently the longest?

afotalwcs absolutely (it’s at 73k rn and counting)

3. which wip do you expect will end up the longest?

again definitely afotalwcs- it’s already fucking massive and i’m nowhere near finished with it. like i genuinely don’t know what the end word count will be but i don’t think i’ll be surprised if i end up doubling it before it’s done

4. which wip if your favorite to write/the most enjoyable to write? why?

of definitely afotalwcs (i’m sensing a theme here) but that’s probably just cause i’m working on it the most rn

i also love fell in love with the fire long ago just cause it’s an au i’ve wanted to do for fucking ever now

5. which wip do you find the most intimidating to write? why?

it’s a good mix between fell in love with the fire along ago just cause there’s so much fucking research involved in that fic and 10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship cause i’ve seriously neglected her for a little while and im always like that with fic i haven’t touch her in a while

6. which wip do you experience the most self doubt with? why?

fell in love with the fire long ago- like with smut fics i always now someone will enjoy them but i feel like for me at least since it’s an au too im putting a different kind of care and effort into it by building the timeline/setting and i get in my head a lot about making it sure if lands as best it can

7. which of your wips will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? why?

i probably will for all of them tbh! i do my best to have my fics beta read (i have two of the bestest friends irl that are so kind to be able to read my fics for me) except the times they’re both extremely busy and i get very impatient and i post without them (baby i’m sorry-)

but seriously especially the longer fics that i spent the most time working in i definitely will just cause i wanna make sure they’re especially good/ read well to a first time reader

8) have any of your wips been struck by the curse of writers block?

YES. 10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship has been ons temporal hiatus rn (my poor poor baby) but i really wanna get back to writing for her soon

9. which wip has your favorite oc? tell us about them?

i don’t really have any ocs in my fics to be completely honest

afotalwcs has some background characters for calls and what not that i made up that i’m enjoying writing (anxiety ridden dominatrix in chapter one i love you)

10. which wip is the sexiest?

afotalwcs most likely which is a little bit of a given

though go on running (straight into my arms) is a close second cause i feel like i out a lot of heartfelt emotion into that one

11. which wip is the angstiest?

ooh probably fell in love with the fire long ago since there’s a LOT of pining there and decent amount of miscommunication (ironic given the fact they talk all the fucking time in that fic lmao)

12. which wip has the best characterization (in your humble opinion)?

i wanna go with fell in love with the fire long ago since for me most of his well i view characterization comes from dialogue and that fic is chalk full of it so i think it’s an easier translation

although there is some banter in 10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship that feels very true to buck and eddie

13. which wip has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

oh my god hands down fell in love with the fire long ago

it takes place in the middle of the sierra national forest (roughly) and let me tell you it’s so fun to research and picture how beautiful that park looks while writing

14. which wip have you work the hardest on?

id say afotalwcs just cause it’s so long and ive definitely been working on it the longest now

15. which wip do you have the highest expectations for? why?

oooh definitely afotalwcs- i’ve put a lot into writing that one so i really really want in to pay off, which i know it will since even if a couple people enjoy it i’ll be super happy too

it’s already gotten so much love and i haven’t even posted more than a couple random chunks and seriously it makes my world seeing people get excited for it

16. do you dream about any of your wips?

i day dream! that’s mostly cause i space out a fuck ton but no i don’t dream about my works in my sleep though

i wish i did cause maybe that would help my ny goddamn writers block LMAO

17. do any of your wips have particular complexities that your other fics don’t?

i like to think they all have their little quirks

fell in love with the fire long ago is very dialogue heavy since they’re talking through handheld radios and since it’s from eddie’s pov, bucks lines spoken through the radio are all in italics

10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship follows as buck is reading through a relationship self help book and each section is separated by a little excerpt from made up book which i enough was super fun

18. which wip is the funniest or has the most humor?

i’d say likely fell in love with the fire long ago just cause they’re alway talking they’re also alway bantering too

but also even though it is a smut fic i do wanna say afotalwcs as well- i think it’s very important for writing buck and eddie’s dynamic that even something like them fucking would be very light and fun and in some parts. honestly some of my personal favorite lines/moments are in that fic

19. do any of your wips contain outside povs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? how are you finding that process?

currently no! i mainly just stick to writing between buck or eddie’s pov (mainly eddie’s cause i find his the easiest to write in)

but it’s something i definitely want to work with one day!

20. tell us one thing we don’t know about one or more of your wips.

i’ll be nice and tell you one of each ;)

a foundation of trust and love we cannot see is currently 73k words and 17 chapters long. i rewrote the ending for this fic three times before landing on something that felt satisfying to me

10 Surefire Ways To Be A Better Lover: A Guide on Strengthening Your Relationship this monster of a fic is entirely from bucks pov which is most very difficult since i don’t write from his pov a lot and kind of easy cause i tend to be less restrained when i speak from his mindset

fell in love with the fire long ago was originally going to be a very striking resemblance to the game firewatch (the video game the au was going to be based off of) but i changed my mind about keeping the plot the same halfway through writing. instead it’ll just then being fire lookouts

go on running (straight into my arms) i made up all my own lore for both rb werewolves and vampires in this fic cause i kept finding inconsistencies between different variations before i finally yelled “fuck it!” and just did my own thing (can you tell i’m a virgo?)

no pressure tagging my dear friends @paranoidbean @housewifebuck @eddiebabygirldiaz and anyone else that would like to give this a go!!

#i wrote most of this late night while kind of delusional and i refuse to edit it either #so if you see typos no you didn’t #also finally name dropped my big allusive fic!!#weekend wip game #tag games

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years ago

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riddle means misery | part 5.

Summary: Y/N Riddle. Not much more has to be said. Everyone hates her. She’s evil... she has to be.

Warnings for the Series: 18+, this series is dark. Manipulation, dubcon verging on noncon, abuse of power, violence, ed mentions, death, blood

Pairing: Bill Weasley x black!reader (semi-slowburn)

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: lmao everyone wanted Bill so we’re doing Bill

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The entire Order hated the idea except Moody. Moody was all for you spying. Besides, you wouldn’t be alone. Severus would be spying with you— basically being your glorified babysitter. You were determined to prove yourself. Childhood once you reached school age became miserable, your first years of adulthood went the same. You wanted to live the rest of your life peacefully and happily. You’d be the best spy in the Order. It was probably the easiest job ever. You didn’t need to convince your father to trust you.

The rest of the Order was a different story. Whenever you left the Malfoys’ manor to go to Grimmauld for a meeting, they all held onto their wands. It didn’t help that you were the reason Severus had a Dark Mark on his forearm. You knew it wouldn’t be possible for him to continue in the ranks without one. You even got one yourself to make him feel better despite the fact that you didn’t have to.

You had arrived to Grimmauld early, slightly nervous for the meeting. Your father had said something the other day that he shouldn’t have known. He had gotten ahold of the Trelawney prophecy and heard about his possible demise. But he wasn’t supposed to know that either the Longbottoms or the Potters were going to be responsible for it. He shouldn’t have known Alice and Lily were both pregnant. You knew for a fact that you didn’t tell him anything. That information was a complete secret. Someone else was spying for your father and you didn’t know who. You could only rule out options.

It wasn’t Severus because you would have known. It wasn’t Regulus either— it couldn’t be after he almost died retrieving a horcrux after you told him the location. The Marauders were out and so was Lily because her family was on the possible hit list. Moody was out simply because you believed it couldn’t be him. But there were still so many members that you weren’t sure who could be the spy. You sat at the dining room table, looking up when Severus entered the room. He blinked as you ripped a page out from your journal and handed it to him.

“I know you know about Remus. Can you brew that for him? It’ll help on full moons and frankly… I think it’s smart if he starts spying on wolf packs. My father’s been talking to Greyback.”

“Why can’t you brew it?”

“I’m going to have to stay at home for a while. Bellatrix tried to follow me the last meeting, I think she’s catching on to me. I just… I just can’t stay.”

Severus eyed you and tried to hide his sneer but he sat down anyway. True to your word, you weren’t at the next meeting. You were basically locked up in your house. You sent letters by owl when you left to go grocery shopping but never received anything back. It was a dangerous game for you to receive anything back.

You were currently waiting for your dad to come for dinner. He was going after the Longbottoms and Potters. You could’ve rolled your eyes. His information was wrong. You felt bad for whoever was going to be tortured for the information but at least it would be the wrong person getting questioned. You started to pace. Your father should have been back by now or someone from the Order should have contacted you by now. But neither had happened. You didn’t know where you were going but being able to apparate to your father’s last known location to you was a saving grace.

Your feet gave out from under you as you apparated into Godric’s Hollow. A small cottage looked completely destroyed. Part of the roof was blocking the door from where it caved in, signs of wand blasts were evident. You ran in, screaming for someone to respond. No one was around. You weren’t sure if that was a good sign or bad sign yet.

You looked in confusion at the wand on the stairs. You had seen it enough times to know what your father’s wand looked like. But he left it? You walked back out the door. There wasn’t much else you could do there. You just hoped that either the Potters or the Longbottoms were safe— whichever family the house belonged to. Squeaking garnered your attention when you walked through the threshold.

“Pettigrew?”

The moment the words left your mouth, the rat turned into a man and started to run. You immediately followed wondering what the hell happened. Moody had suggested, much to everyone’s anger, making you the Secret Keeper for both the Longbottoms and the Potters. It was fairly obvious your father wouldn’t suspect you. But you got nervous when Bellatrix started following you closer. As you ran, you realized your last minute decision to discreetly switch out Secret Keeper was a mistake. You dodged a spell that Peter threw behind him. Teeth gritting, you chased him into the main road. You didn’t even know what you could do. Your magic honestly wasn’t strong enough.

Peter stopped and faced you. You took a gulp and grabbed your wand. If he threw out the killing curse, you were going to die. Maybe an Order member would be on the way soon. You could always take a chance and just send up green sparks to alert you needed help.

“She tried to kill them! She betrayed the Potters!” Peter began to yell before you had made a decision.

The spells, running, and shouting had attracted some people to leave their homes and see what was going on. Your eyes widened. A dry laugh rang out. Was he really doing this? You lifted your wand to cast any spell just to delay his fleeing when you were blown back. You coughed as you got up. Looking around, you couldn’t find him. Your eyes focused on the street in front of you that was stained with a lot of red. Your mouth dropped open.

He killed people. He killed people to escape. And then you looked closer. There wasn’t a wand in sight, the Potters lived in a place with lots of muggles. Groans let you know that some people were alive but severely injured. You didn’t have your bag of potions on you. You stopped wearing that bag when you joined the Order. You scrambled to find your wand only to see it snapped in half. You could only stand and look at the carnage around. There were so many people. Why would Peter switch sides? How could he just kill muggles?

Your head whipped around as you saw a bright light from the corner of your eyes. Fudge, Barty Crouch Sr., and some Aurors from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were there. You pointed behind you and babbled out something about people hurt. The Aurors immediately stormed past you to the scene to try and help. You dropped to the street, a mix between laughing and crying escaped your throat. It was your fault. Your fault for trusting a damn traitor. When did Peter even turn against you all? Fudge and Barty looked down at you and then up when an Auror stood right behind you.

“They say there was an explosion. Another man was here. Three muggles said they heard her yell Pettigrew and something else before the blast. Says he said she tried to kill the Potters.”

Another Auror came up, holding something in her hand. “This is Pettigrew’s finger, all we could find.”

You went to stand up to explain when someone cast a body-binding curse. Your mind immediately went back to your school years. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. It was impossible to even thrash around. Tears streamed down your face and onto the sidewalk because no one would listen to you. The people around you decided that you were guilty. They ignored your pleas of no. They were creating evidence and you couldn’t seem to convince them otherwise. You heard them say Azkaban.

“There’s twelve counts of murder of muggles, Pettigrew is dead. Attempted murder of the Potters. We should have never trusted a Riddle, not without preparing,” Barty told Fudge. “Azkaban should’ve been the only place she ever went.”

A bunch of Aurors surrounded you. You felt the familiar pull and tug of apparating. The place felt void of all happiness. Your clothes were stripped from you and you were given a plain prison gown. The Aurors gave a welcome to Azkaban speech as they took your mugshot, which was echoed in your head by the Dementor’s gravelly inhuman voice.

“Welcome to Azkaban. There is only one rule. Ask. You ask to eat breakfast, ask to go to the bathroom, ask to eat dinner. You want to leave your cell for a shower, ask. You even ask to go to sleep. You don’t get to move unless we say so. We control everything. Ask and no dementors. That’s our deal. You ask and you might not get dementors. So ask for everything, you don’t move until we say yes or no. Do you understand?”

You just blinked, not sure how everything was moving so fast. You shook your head and started to say you were being framed when a cold hand grabbed your throat. You felt freezing as a dementor stared down at you. Scared turned to sadness as the dementor sucked at your soul a bit. You were dropped back to the floor. An Auror stood over you.

“Let’s try again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

The Aurors nodded and left. The dementor’s cold hand returned as you were guided past shared cells and taken to solitary all the way to the corner of the prison. Azkaban was cold. There wasn’t a single blanket or a bed. Everything was just cold— colder than the Black Lake had ever been.

The Order was called to the Ministry headquarters the next day after the scene at Godric’s Hollow had been cleaned and the muggles had been taken care of. The Marauders were too busy pacing the length of the room. They wouldn’t sit down until Barty brought out your wand and Peter’s finger. The three men plopped into their chairs. He was actually dead. Lily looked from the finger to Dumbledore and Fudge, rubbing her very pregnant stomach.

“He’ll be back. James and I got lucky. You-Know-Who will be back.”

Life after Voldemort wasn’t an easy adjustment. But, the Wizarding World learned to move on. It wasn’t easy. Death Eaters still popped up. Traces of Voldemort were still felt. It was most noticeable eleven years later when Quirrel turned out to have Voldemort stuck to the back of his head and almost killed three kids, most notably Harry Potter. That’s what made James quit his Auror job and become a professor at Hogwarts.

McGonagall was more than happy to have the help with Transfiguration. Sirius was already a professor of Muggle Studies. Remus had been a second Charms professor since graduating— taking the job because it was the only stable guarantee with his lycanthrope issue. Having the three living Marauders work in the same place was entertaining but also a nightmare. At least the beginning of the year and end of the year teacher conferences were fun.

“Absolutely not!” Severus yelled at the meeting before the school year. “I didn’t spy for you and let them brand me a Death Eater for you to invite Y/N Riddle right in! You know this was her idea? She said so we wouldn’t be caught. These don’t fade easily.”

“Are we supposed to forget she tried to have the Longbottoms killed? She tried to have my family killed,” James spoke up. “How is she even getting out? She killed Wormtail and some muggles.”

Dumbledore let them continue protesting until they ran themselves out. Adjusting his spectacles, he looked at all of them.

“I do not know much of the details, only that the Ministry seems to have entered a plea deal of sorts with Ms. Riddle. She can be watched at Hogwarts while carrying out whatever they need. And with what happened with Quirrel last year… I agree with the Minister that Voldemort is planning to attack sooner rather than later. Attacks have been happening again and there was a sighting of Bellatrix Lestrange in London. Harry and Neville Longbottom are still in danger. Ms. Riddle will be taking Remus’ position as our second Charms professor this year.”

“What will I be doing?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts until we can find a proper replacement. I don’t believe putting her in that role would be appropriate.”

No professor bothered arguing anymore. It was clear that this wasn’t Dumbledore’s choosing as he told them everything he knew. With the threat of Voldemort getting larger, it was necessary for the Ministry to step up the hunt.

Of course you had taken the plea deal when it was presented to you. It wasn’t that hard to contact your father and pass off that information. You would have done anything to get out of Azkaban. Anything to be away from the dementors and Aurors. You pulled down on the sleeve of your sweater to hide the Dark Mark that the Auror handing you back your wand was staring at with hatred. The wand was simply for show. It wasn’t even the one that was broken twelve years ago. They had put a charm on it so you couldn’t do most spells. Not that it mattered. You couldn’t do most spells anyway after being fed on by dementors almost every day since arriving in Azkaban. And they still didn’t know you were a squib.

“Try anything and you’ll get the Dementor’s Kiss, you won’t even get the chance to see your cell.”

You nodded. There were no plans you had to cause trouble. This was your taste of freedom. The Auror apparated to the train station near Hogwarts where a carriage was waiting for you. Back when you were in school you could never see the thestrals pulling the cart. Now, it was awful that you noticed as they made the short journey to the school’s entrance. You wanted to get settled in at Hogwarts before the kids arrived. Nothing was lost on you. You knew that no one would be happy to see you.

While you knew that no one would be happy to see you, there was a small part of you that hoped maybe you could get them all to listen to you. If you could just get someone to hear the truth then maybe they would give you a proper trial. Those hopes were immediately shattered when all the professors either walked by like they didn’t see you or cowered in fear.

You sighed as you sat at the end of the staff table. It only got worse when the students entered and Dumbledore announced what was happening. You wanted to correct every bit of what he said because it simply wasn’t true. Your heart sank when you watched every professor reach for their wands as you stood from the table. They had nothing to be scared of. You were the traumatized one. You were the one riddled with nightmares and scared of your own shadow. They had nothing to fear. You addressed Dumbledore.

“Dinner is over. Can I get ready for bed?”

Dumbledore blinked, eyebrows scrunching in slight confusion. “That’s fine?”

You had been headed to your room until you noticed that it was the full moon. The full moon was worth getting in trouble for not going straight to your room. Although, you had a near breakdown as you walked to the kitchen. Maybe you could get them to listen to you by being nice. You just needed one person to listen for five minutes and you could say the truth.

Moony Night honestly seemed like the easiest place to start. That had always been something that plagued you while in Azkaban. You spent every full moon wondering about Remus. You were the one that bandaged everyone up after they came back from the Shrieking Shack and then got promptly fucked afterwards. Those memories of his howls and the pain he looked in the day after stuck with you in Azkaban. If your screams weren’t keeping you up, it was his howls from that time ago.

You jumped when you heard a deep voice ask what the hell you were doing in the kitchen. Relief settled over you when you noticed that it was just the Marauders. While you were relieved, they couldn’t say the same thing. Remus’ Moony Nights had calmed down severely since Hogwarts once Severus learned how to brew wolfsbane potion for him but it still wasn’t easy. The potion wasn’t completely stable and for minutes at a time he wouldn’t have control of himself. And he didn’t exactly like that he relied on Snivellus who refused to show James or Lily the recipe.

The Marauders suspected it was so he would always have something to hold over their heads. He refused to say how he invented the potion and insisted that there were no revisions that could be made to stop the lapses in his judgment. The Marauders sat down at the island in the school’s kitchen with a lot of tension. You seemed busy as they watched you move around. When you turned to face them, they simply stared at the cups of hot chocolate. You grabbed the jar and moved around the island.

“Are you hurt anywhere els—”

Remus grabbed your wrist before you could dab the cream to the cut above his eyebrow. “I don’t need your help.”

You shook a little as you stared at where his hand held you. “It’s just that it’s a Moony N—”

“I don’t want your help.”

The moment he let go of your wrist, you scrambled out of the kitchen. You didn’t want to be in trouble with the dementors on the first day of freedom. You were the reason they were patrolling school grounds in the first place. Everything you did was monitored. That thought didn’t escape you as you ate breakfast in your classroom.

Like you suspected, none of the students that had you as a professor for Charms showed up. You got plenty of letters from their parents and lots of mean-spirited messages from the students themselves. Your former classmates were sweet enough to send howlers about how you should be dead. They thought that a lot of witches and wizards were dead because The Ministry made the worst mistake ever trusting you. All three of your meals were eaten in your empty classroom. You were starting to wonder if the isolation of Hogwarts was any better than Azkaban. At least the food was better. At least you were eating proper meals. Whenever the Aurors came around, you got a little something extra to eat but it was never enough. It always came at a cost, nothing that you weren’t used to giving.

Weeks went by without a student ever showing up. At least you were making better progress with your father. It had only taken him three days to send you a letter and four days to meet you in person. Of course, he wanted all the names of the Aurors that took you. He would torture them before he killed them. Your father didn’t like the way you looked. The effects of Azkaban were rather apparent. He frowned as you two ate dinner and you asked about Nagini. He didn’t want to bring you back into the war. Only after you kept insisting did he tell the truth that all his horcruxes were gone but one.

Your father brought you back into the fold as his second in command but he refused to let you go anywhere near an attack. That was fine with you. You thought as much as you sent him another letter from Hogwarts' owlery. The information you were getting was plenty enough to give to The Ministry.

(part 6)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107

#marauders x reader #dark!marauders #marauders fic #marauders imagines #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x black!reader #Harry Potter fic

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years ago

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Healing

pairing: Azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: TW - sexual assault, rape, objectification and implications of abuse, smut, consensual sex, azriel is a sweetie and rhys is a good bestie

a/n: first of all PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!! i’m really proud of this fic but I don’t want to trigger or upset anyone, that being said it isn’t too graphic but still. Anyway I hope u enjoy, this took me three days lmao <333

based on: this and this

—————————————————————————-

You had your first less than savoury encounter with men when you had barely turned nine. Your body still hadn’t finished forming, but you were growing, and your body was gaining some semblance of shape as you did. It wasn’t much – just a whistle from across the street – but for a second your heart seized up with fear, and in the next you almost felt giddy. A man thought you were beautiful.

You felt like a princess that day – felt the way you had when the boy from your class had kissed your cheek, still too young to process the intentions behind that single whistle. But you didn’t care – someone wanted you.

When you got your first period at twelve – even more changed. Your body felt new, and you didn’t feel comfortable in the changes. Your old clothes didn’t fit and now your mother forced you into tighter corsets for those long, long dinners you had to attend. Your parents were respected Fae in the Hewn City – nobles who liked to drink and smoke and throw extravagant balls. And with your new body you could no longer simply hide in the corner or climb through secret passages with your friends – muddying your dresses.

Now you had to smile when men hugged you slightly too long, laugh when they commented on how much you had grown up, sit pretty and pristine with an old mans hand loitering to close to your rear for hours as you watched your parents drink away their troubles.

By the time you were fifteen you were used to the constant attention, your beauty not uncommon where you lived but still doted on often. Unaware of their desire for your youth, your naivety. The women never offering a helping hand but instead glaring down high skewed noses as their husbands slurred into your ears – still in shock that a pretty, young thing like you was all alone at this party.

When you were sixteen you decided to change that – kissing an alright looking boy at a party and telling him exactly what he wanted to hear so he would kiss you back. He stayed when you didn’t protest as he pulled you to the bathroom and pushed you to your knees. And for this small request, the greasy hands on your body at balls and dinners or any other social gathering halved – now only the truly self-righteous felt they could touch you still.

The only problem was you truly did love the boy you had chosen. He had faults yes, but he was kind – he brought you flowers and kissed your cheek. But he also spoke over you, forced you into silence and took what he wanted. And he always wanted the same thing.

If anything it was his father’s fault. The military commander never leaving room for debate when he argues with his wife – and sons only become what they see in their fathers.

Your father had left with a younger woman a few months after your fourteenth birthday, and you hadn’t seen him since – only heard stories of him galivanting around the autumn court from your classmates. You could see the distaste your mum held you in as she realised she would have to stick around to look after you, not yet old enough to be married. Then Amarantha had taken hold of the country and that possibility had been thrown out the window anyway.

Weirdly enough not that much changed in your life when she took power, the only major difference was that now you had to block out screams before going to sleep and even they had become like white noise. You still drank with your friends on Friday nights, went out with your boyfriend on Saturdays and slept the pain away on Sundays. Your weekdays consisted of school, dinners, balls and whatever more your mother could throw together to appease the high queen.

That and the high lord of the night court had started making appearances at the events your mother threw. He was a cruel man standing so proudly at the queen’s side – but you saw something flickering in his eyes whenever people spoke, complimenting his power and rule. You saw what you felt as you laughed at compliments and lingering touches – you saw pain, but more importantly you saw anger. And right now you could use anger.

During one ball you watched him leave, taking an odd route – not the one that would help him escape the loud music but instead a long winding corridor leading to a series of smaller rooms. Without thought you peeled away from your company, muttering excuses and went after him – grabbing a bottle of wine as you did.

You found him reclining in an empty room and knocked on the door gently. He cracked open an eye – slow like a cat – and beckoned you in. You moved to perch next to him, leaning back with a straight back and letting your head loll slightly as you took a swig of the dark red wine, before passing him the bottle.

“You looked like you could use a drink,” you smiled, eyes focused on his sharp jaw as he held the bottle to his mouth with a laugh.

“One way of putting it,” he smiled. The two of you sat in silence for several minutes as you took in his beauty, his looks plus mannerisms all made him seem like a wild cat - a panther trapped underground.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked, and you raised a hand to trace that sharp jaw. But instead of devouring you as any lesser man would’ve, he brushed your hand away and held it tightly in his larger one. “That’s not gonna happen, you’re what sixteen?”

“Almost seventeen,” you said, cheekily. He laughed but shook his head, squeezing your hand before releasing it.

“You’re still a child,” he said matter-of-factly, and you scoffed, stealing your wine back to drink again.

“Yeah well that’s usually a selling point,” your voice was sad, but you didn’t dare let your eyes stray from his – refusing to show fear, “And you’re so nice to me, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

He laughed as you pouted, “You practice this in the mirror or something?”

“Usually works in three seconds,” you confess, and he whistles under his breath, “Men are rather easy to manipulate when they’ve been trying to get into your skirts since your first bleed.”

“And you wonder why I’m not about to take advantage of you,” he laughed, and you smiled – a real smile, or real enough. “Plus I don’t think your little boyfriend would be pleased.”

“Eh, he’s never pleased - I don’t think this could make him worse.” Rhysand took the wine back and frowned.

“Does he hurt you?” his voice was sincere but the laugh you let out was not.

“Don’t all men,” he swore, and you laughed again, “Yet you foil my plan to make you fall in love with me and whisk me away to the moon.”

He laughed, but his eyes darkened with deep sadness you were sure you would never understand, “I think we both no that even I could not do that, but I might be able to crush your fly.”

“Little boyfriend? Fly? You really don’t like him do you?” you laughed, head lighter already.

“I don’t like any man who thinks they can hurt women,” he said, frowning when he realised through your passing back and forth there was no wine left.

“Shit that took us like five minutes,” you complained, and he laughed, waving his hand lightly as several more bottles appeared before you – you grinned as you grabbed another.

“So any friends with weaker moral backbones that I could marry?” you asked with a laugh, and he smiled at you.

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he leaned back again. You smiled – finally happy that one night might pass in the company of a decent man.

Soon, you’d find it would be more than one night, a close friendship quickly blossoming between you and the high lord. All your friends were convinced you were sleeping together but true to his word he didn’t touch you, and by the time you surpassed the age of eighteen you didn’t want him to. But that didn’t stop other men.

After a particularly bad argument with your boyfriend that had left you with a handprint on your left cheek you had broken up with him – sending away his apologies and flowers, smart enough to see he didn’t hold the mental capacity to change.

Plus you were beautiful and young, you could certainly do better. And you soon did – rich men who liked to buy you jewellery, and fine clothes, men who enjoyed literature and art and spending time with you.

And at the start of each relationship, for a few blissful seconds you would believe in their pure intentions. But then a hand would drift from your lower back to your ass, or the gentle kiss that followed a necklace would shift from your mouth to your breasts. Not one of them wanted to wait until you were comfortable, so you made yourself comfortable.

You pictured pretty, strong men were holding you down and making you feel something, slipping your own hand between your legs and they penetrated you to try and replicate what you were sure a lover’s touch must feel like. And as always – after the first time- they stopped asking for permission, you were their toy, so you no longer had choice over that part of yourself.

But through nice guys and bad boys, for fifty years you had Rhysand who was a friend – who treated you with respect and finally let you talk, let you breathe.

In the end he was the one who found you, in the backroom of a party – drunk and undressed. You were weeping, curled in a ball with your attackers’ seed dripping out of you, bruises decorating your bare skin. When he turned you over with his comforting hands he found your nose dripping red and the vibrant lipstick you wore smudged.

He helped you sit up and redress, took you home and stood outside the bathroom while you scrubbed yourself clean in scalding water – still unsteady on your feet. You changed into a nightgown silently and neither of you said a word when you crawled into bed next to each other, crying in your best friends’ arms as he tried to console you.

When you woke up, he was gone with just a scribbled message about Amarantha and the name of a healer he trusted. But you just placed it back down, turning onto your back and staring at the ceiling as hot tears ran into your hairline.

You barely ate anything for the days following your assault – fighting with your mother more when you rarely saw her and subsequently breaking it off with your current boyfriend. You had thrown his hands off you when he tried to touch you and the screaming match that followed ended your relationship.

Your bond with Rhysand grew only closer however as you spent nights drinking in candlelight, talking about anything and everything until you were sure he knew every inch of your soul and you his.

“You know what I’m going to do as soon as she’s gone,” you whispered one night as you stared at the twinkling lights you had hung on your bedroom roof to imitate stars.

“What?” Rhys had asked, never letting his eyes leave the ‘stars’ which he had laughed at and then proceeded to rearrange to make them more accurate. To which you threw a pillow at his head.

“Find a hill, or a pier, or a large pit or anything and scream into it until my throat bleeds.” You said and he laughed, the bed beneath you rumbling.

“Consider me on board.” He joked as you sat up to perch at your vanity – smudging the sharp eyeliner you wore with a small brush and applying some red lipstick.

“Wanna go out?” you asked him, and he sat up to with a small, sad smile.

“Can’t.” you understood his implication and frowned.

“I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t gutted me yet,” you tried to lighten the mood, but his face darkened slightly when he joked back.

“Oh she wants to, I’m telling her any information you give me about citizens, so she doesn’t.” He said, ruffling your hair as he stood to leave.

“That’s fair, I’ll keep an ear out,” you smiled, squeezing his hand gently before he left.

Things changed when Feyre Archeron appeared, you saw the way your friend watched her and realised you might be competing for his attention soon, but you were happy for him. Until he brought her to that first party – drugged and barely dressed. You felt the bile rise in your throat as you pushed down memories of yourself in such a similar position, and while you knew he would never hurt her – he was still a man. And you were foolish to believe for all those years that he was a man who would realise this was wrong.

Making polite excuses you left the party, picking up the tails of your dress as you all but raced home – ditching the dress and closing the blinds tightly as you made yourself food in your underwear. The sick feeling in your throat spreading through your chest and stomach as you ate, abandoning your meal halfway for a book and large sweater. And when he knocked on your door that night, desperate to tell you all about her – all about the human girl who he was sure could be his mate, you pretended to be asleep.

You barely spoke to him the whole time she was there, unable to look him in the eyes when she was so clearly out of it – and the feeling only grew when the next morning she would have all eyes on her. You understood that feeling. You instead spent parties flirting with Tarquin, the young high lord who was only a few years your senior or warding off marriage invitations with laughs and carefully placed words.

Rhys would sometimes catch your eyes – furrowing his eyebrows at you when you avoided his gaze, the sick feeling never really leaving. But it wasn’t until you watched Tamlin slay Amarantha with a smile that he tried to speak to you again. Feyre was Fae and leaving with her betrothed and Rhysand had just confirmed they were mates – and never had he needed his best friend quiet like he did now.

You were sitting when he found you, head in your palms and blood dusting the skirts of your dress. You had been sitting near Amarantha when it happened. You looked up when he neared, smiling sadly as he sat next to you.

“Want to go home?” he asked you quietly and you scoffed, standing, and moving to leave quickly. He followed after you, grabbing your arm as you wrenched it out of his grip with more ferocity than he had ever seen from you.

“Don’t touch me,” he held his hands up, backing away to give you space as you got your breathing under control.

“What did I do?” he asked – smart enough to not presume anything.

“How could you think it was okay, after what happened?” your voice was quiet again, and so sad.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he implored, stepping slightly closer again. You raised your eyes to meet his and he understood, the darkness you carried in your eyes shining through – the memories that resurfaced in those dark moments. “I’m sorry, let me explain please.”

You let him hold your arm softly as he winnowed the two of you to your house where you sat down heavy and tired.

“I did it because she needed out of that cell, but I saw what they did to you and you’re a fae woman, she’s… she was human. So it meant that no one else would touch her.” He tried to explain, “And she wouldn’t want to remember.”

“That’s a horrible thing to do Rhys.” You stated and he hung his head low, “How in anyway was that helping her, to get her out you could’ve snuck her here or just take her to a ball and let her dress normally.”

“I’m sorry, I just knew this would’ve been the safest option,” he grabbed your hand again and squeezed it like he did all those years ago, “It’s over, we can go home.”

“I am home,” you laughed bitterly, gesturing to your house.

“No, you’re coming out of this city – we’re putting it behind us.” He stood and held out a hand.

“I know you’re trying to be dramatic and all, but I have to pack – and think.” You said and he laughed.

“Take your time,” he said, sitting back to wait for you, “And I know it might take you a while to forgive me, but I’ll wait.”

You had left soon after, as he revealed his city to you. Winnowing to a house where two beautiful women stood at the door, strong winged men appearing next to them almost instantly – all sharing the same tear-eyed look. Well, all asides from a short, dark-haired woman who simply smiled.

The men you presumed were Azriel and Cassian barrelled towards Rhysand, attacking him in the most violent hug you had ever witnessed. Mor followed soon after and Amren simply offered him a curt nod, to which he bowed slightly with a cheeky smile.

Cassian turned to look at you and everyone followed suit, you straightened up – not wanting to cower under their gazes.

“And this, this is (y/n).” Rhysand said, placing a hand on your elbow, “She’s the only reason I survived under the mountain.”

You smiled at him, annoyed still – but you still held so much love for him in your heart. You looked away when Cassian approached and wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly.

When he released you he looked you dead in the eye, “I am forever in your service.”

“Cassian let go of the poor girl,” Mor exclaimed behind him, and you giggled, looking to Rhys for support.

“Forgot to tell you he’s a hugger,” he shrugged, and you shoved his shoulder.

“Oh did you!” you laughed.

“Gotta get used to it, you’re part of the team now,” Cassian slung an arm around your shoulder as he guided you inside, “which means lots of hugs and long talks about emotions.”

“Don’t steal my best friend Cassian,” Rhys jabbed at his brother as you all moved to sit inside around a long table.

“He already had I’m afraid, can’t reverse love like ours,” you joined in, patting Cassian’s hand as he punched the air in victory, Rhysand feigning pain as he dramatically collapsed into his chair – a hand over his heart.

When you were finally seated you caught Azriel’s gaze, his eyes locked on you – having watched you interact with his family for less than five minutes and already completely enamoured. You smiled softly when you caught his gaze and he grinned at you, no words passing.

Later that evening – after too many drinks, you found yourself alone on a balcony you found, drinking in the fresh air greedily after all those years underground. You didn’t realise he was there until he was next to you – silent on his feet, his shadows a cool chill passing over your shoulders.

You tilted your head to look at him, in awe of his beauty. Not even Rhysand had awed you as much as this man was, his beauty unparalleled by anyone you had met before. He turned his gaze down to you as well, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you as he watched you move with such elegant curiosity.

“We haven’t had the pleasure of being formally introduced,” you smiled, lifting your hand delicately, “I’m (y/n).”

He met your hand halfway, lifting it to his mouth with perfectly poised and trained grace. “Azriel,” his voice was deep, gruff – and sent chills through you quickly. But when he moved your hand from his mouth you held on, the sparks flowing through you telling you all you needed to know. He similarly made no move to let go.

“Are we? I don’t really know how any of this works,” you laughed nervously but he smiled so warmly and tugged you slightly closer to him with the hand you were still clutching.

“You’re my mate princess,” he said, voice rough from disuse. You smiled widely, eyes forming tears as your gaze never strayed from him – finally getting one person who would truly love you, not your body – but you. He tugged your hand gently and you followed him inside, smiling and love drunk.

“We should probably go to the house of wind,” his voice was quiet as you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“Me and Cassian have to share a room here, the bed are singles.” You smiled and laughed – irrevocably happy.

“Yeah maybe not,” you said, and he held your hand softly as he walked you to the front door, passed his past out friends, Rhys cracking an eye open when you walked past him, and you turned when he tugged your skirt gently.

You okay? He asked in your mind, and you smiled at him.

I’m perfect, why? You replied as he closed his eyes again, clearly too tired to hold them open - Azriel moving to retrieve your coats.

Just don’t feel pressured into doing anything you’re not ready for, Azriel is understanding he won’t get angry. A sort of cold feeling settled on your shoulders when you realised why Azriel wanted that extra privacy.

Shit forgot I had to do that you joked but Rhysand felt the stress growing, however before he could reply Azriel was by your side again and you were waving him goodbye, your smile tight lipped.

Honestly, you trusted Rhysand when he said that Azriel would understand – but so far you had yet to meet a man who truly respected the boundaries you set, a man who would truly wait. Azriel met your eyes in silent questions before scooping you into his arms, flying high above the house as you squealed in his arms, clinging tightly to his neck, and shutting your eyes tightly as you soared above the vibrant city.

He felt you tense as you neared the house, swooping lower in order to land on the large balcony attached to his room. He placed you on shaky legs gently and looked down to smile at you again – heart so full of love and peace.

Not only was his brother returned to him in one piece, but along beside him came you. His mate. His mate.

You caught his gaze and gave him a tight-lipped smile, terrified for history to repeat itself. You wanted to talk to him and know him – you didn’t want him to learn to love your body instead of you. And you were truly afraid to be touched again, you hadn’t been with a man since you were raped – fear stopping you before they could get close and walls slamming up if they tried.

“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice was dripping with concern – genuine concern, and the way he said it made tears well up in your eyes. His own instantly widened as he sensed the sadness and fear rolling of you in waves, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you sobbed into his chest. “Oh sweetheart we don’t have to do anything, c’mon lets go sit down.”

He guided you through the glass doors and sat you down gently on the bed, holding you gently and coaxing you through your breakdown. Once your breathing had calmed slightly and you had pulled out of his embrace, wiping your tears harshly with the butt of your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly, terrified to anger your mate when you’ve only just found him.

“It’s okay darling, what’s wrong – did I do something? You’re not terrified of heights are you?” he asked, and you laughed softly, a smile growing on his face as his worries eased slightly.

“No, that was fun,” he grabbed your hand in his scarred ones and you gripped it tightly.

“Then what was it?” you looked into those beautiful, worried eyes and let out an exhale – bottom lip quivering.

“I just don’t think I can – I can’t do that tonight.” You whispered the words lowly, afraid of his reaction as you clung like a child to his hand.

“Hey, that’s okay – we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready,” he smiled, worries easing. You still wanted to be with him, just not in that way yet – and he could wait. He would wait a million years if you asked.

“Even if I’m not ready for a while?” You asked, and he held your face in his hands gently – looking into your tear-filled, defeated eyes.

“I would wait forever and then some – I have already waited so long to meet you, I’m sure I can last longer, especially if you’re next to me.” Your smile was so sad when you met his eyes.

“I’ve been told that before,” Azriel just pulled you closer to him with a cheeky grin.

“And were any of them your mate?”

“No,” you smiled at him again and he thought his heart was going to combust.

“Well then, I love to prove people wrong.” You buried your head into his chest as his arms came around you once more, “Would you like to sleep here, or would you like your own room?”

“Here is fine, I like the way you make me feel,” you said quietly, tugging on the bond experimentally. Azriel just smiled and tugged back.

“That works for me, I’ll get you a change of clothes.” He moved to stand but you stopped him – tugging on the dress shirt he wore.

“I want this,” you grinned cheekily up at him, and he laughed, but undid the buttons and pulled it off anyway – turning around to let you change in peace. When he turned back around you were looking up at him with wide eyes – looking impossibly cute in his shirt.

“It has holes in the back,” you complained, and he laughed, sitting down to tug off his trousers before sliding under the covers as you scrambled to lay in his arms.

“Well I do have wings,” he cemented his point by letting one drape over your shoulders as you sighed in content.

“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” you deadpanned quietly, burrowed deep under his arms and the covers. His chest rumbled with the silent laugh as he pressed a kiss into your hairline.

The next morning he awoke to you laying on his chest, tracing the scars on the backs of his hands with a delicately pointed finger. He stared in wonder, and you must have felt his gaze because you turned your head to meet his eyes, face still puffy from sleep. As you whispered to him that morning, your chin resting on his chest as you gazed up at him until he rose to get your morning drinks. Barely daring to leave for more than a few seconds. And when he returned he was so glad he did – welcoming the sight of you curled up under his sheets with a shy smile and tired eyes.

“Do we have to do anything today?” you asked as you sipped your drink slowly, Azriel’s’ arm tight and secure around your waist.

“Nope,” he said, delighted at the prospect, “I just want to be with you and my family.”

“Sounds heavenly.”

True to his word, for the next few weeks that past, you and Azriel didn’t progress past slow, occasional kisses and lingering touches. But before either of those he was always searching your eyes – asking permission. And you truly fell in love with him during those weeks.

He was caring and consistent – never promising anything he couldn’t bring. And he cared for you, he cared for you past your body and looks. He wanted to be with you for an eternity.

One night, while you lay together, speaking lowly and listening to the rain fall outside your room – a glass door cracked open, you decided you were ready. You pressed closer to him, your lips meeting his own in a kiss more passionate than you had previously shared.

He followed your lead with just as much passion, but when you crawled into his lap he pulled away slightly.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you,” he asked quietly, hands coming to rest on your hips.

“I’m sure, I love you and I want to be with you.” You told him sincerely, “But I haven’t been with anyone in a few years so I’m a little out of practice.”

You giggled nervously but he furrowed his eyebrows, “But you told me about your boyfriends?”

“Yeah but I – stopped dating about five years ago.” You tried to explain quickly, old nerves being brought up, but Azriel pulled you closer and as always his touch calmed you.

“Can I ask why?” he watched you drop your head a little as you breathed slowly – determined to not let your fear rise, you would probably end up telling him anyway so you might as well get it over with.

“I was raped.” You stated and his grip on your hips tightened slightly as he swore.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he started but you stopped him with a sharp glaze.

“You don’t need to apologise, it happened and it’s over now.” He could practically feel you pull away, so he loosened his grip on your hips and instead brought his arms up to hold you against his chest.

“Who did it?” he asked, voice dark and dangerous. You muttered a name lowly – under your breath – and he pocketed in the darkest corners of his mind for later. His shadows itching to tear the man apart.

“Look (y/n), if you’re ready I am more than happy to oblige but I need to know you’re really ready, I will wait as long as you need.” You pulled away from his chest and kissed him gently.

“I’m ready, I trust you,” he smiled up at you from where you perched on his lap and you giggled and he flipped you over, laying between your legs with a feral grin.

He made you cum three times with his mouth and those beautiful, beautiful hands alone – more than you had ever experienced with a man and he hadn’t even received any pleasure yet. Except from the pleasure of watching his perfect mate fall apart on his sheets, over and over.

And when he lay over you, your legs pushed up and wrapped around his waist, and his forearms on either side of your head – he would later swear he had never felt more complete.

“I’m here with you remember, will be the whole time.” He assured you, voice soft as he lined himself up and you smiled.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, and he pushed in slowly, filling every part of you and pushing against every spot you didn’t know you had. You swore under your breath when he bottomed out, the slight pain quickly being reduced to please as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” you felt shivers run through your body at his gruff voice and smiled, moaning when he began to move.

He pulled his head from where it hid in your neck and watched as you closed your eyes – head thrown back with a smile – and his hips bucked, desperately trying to control himself as he watched you arch your back.

“Shit Az, you’re so big,” you moaned loudly, unaware of the trance you had pulled your mate into.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered with a harsh thrust, a hand coming to stroke down your face as you opened your eyes to meet his, “So perfect.”

You felt as if your heart was going to burst from the love that filled it as you reached up to kiss him softly – conveying every word, every thought, through that kiss. When you pulled away you were nearing your end, the sensations building in you without the need of a fantasy or your own hand.

You moaned his name, gripping his shoulders tightly as one hand instinctively moved to stroke down his wing. He shuddered above you with a loud groan – his thrusts speeding up as he to neared release, yours hips surely bruising from the force of his own.

“C’mon baby, need to feel you, need to know you’re mine.” His words ignited something in your stomach, and you clung tighter to him, kissing his sharp jaw as you smiled.

“I’m yours Azriel, now and forever.” Your gentle words pushed him over the edge and his skilful fingers dipping between your thighs brought you down with him. The two of you crying out at the sensations you shared as a growing need to never let him go consumed you.

He collapsed on top of you soon after and he intertwined your fingers with his own as your breathing evened out. He slipped out of you, and you smiled up at him as he sat up, rolling off your body and laying to the side while you came to rest your head on his firm chest. He brought his spare hand upwards – twirling strands of your hair slightly as you rested in silence. After a few minutes, you clambered into his lap and kissed him firmly as he pulled you impossibly close.

“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt his heart swell with gratitude to the world for giving him an angel that would willingly hold his hand and guide him out of the darkness.

“I am so in love with you,” he whispered back, and you giggled, a hand moving slowly to stroke him as you felt him harden beneath you again.

“Hmm, is that so?” you whispered.

Azriel, who had started pressing light kisses into your neck, nipped you gently, making you squeal, “What were you saying darling?”

“That I am also deeply, and unequivocally in love with you.” You replied and he rolled his eyes.

“Just putting me to shame with your big words.” He muttered and you giggled – crawling down his body.

“I’m sure I could make it up to you.”

#acofas #acotar #azriel #acomaf #azriel x reader #acowar #acofs #acosf

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