#anon i wrote too much but i just felt the need to write those disclaimers lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mystic-kitten-writer · 4 years ago

Note

Omg smut pls 😭, i’ve been starved from yue zuko smut i keep reading pls chapters!

Here it is- I have to get back into the groove of smut writing, so here's my baby step 👀

Also, this was an ask I got a while back, in relation to Yue's heat smut I wrote. I was trying to find the original ask but I can't find it, but anon, this is for you 🥵

Love you babes, and take care~

AU: Limerence (A/B/O AU)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem. OC (Ying Yue Jiang)

LINKS: 01

Masterlist

Ruts weren't a foreign concept to Zuko.

More often than not, proving a nuisance.

A quick jerk, drowning himself in paperwork, often did the trick for the week. But this time? Zuko swore, his head dropping and hair cascading downwards like a curtain as his fist slammed against the wooden bed frame.

He was sweating despite wearing nothing more but loose-hanging slacks, the windows open and allowing a breeze to enter. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough.

It was like his skin was prickling, senses in over-drive as goosebumps rose along his skin. Heavy pants, Zuko's chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon - fighting the urge to trail his hand down his torso, imagining how cool her fingertips would feel against his burning skin. Her nails tracing every divot of his skin as her touch sank lower, the shiver that ran up his spine.

Always so shy, so submissive; on her knees like the good girl she was, playing with the band of his pants with glossy lips, swollen from her eager nibbles. Her doe-like eyes were staring up at him with a lust that could challenge his before moaning his name with a hunger.

"Fuck." Zuko growled, his toes pressing onto the wooden floor.

A ticking time bomb, groaning as the mere sensation of his pants rubbing against his hard cock had him cracking. His eyes rolled, a temporary relief as his heavy palm fell over himself. A shaky jerk over the fabric, grabbing his length, and he could feel the thick drop of cum leaking from his tip.

He was throbbing, pulse rushing, and skin dewy as his testing jerks grew in intensity. The uncontrollable groans that tumbled from his lips, bucking into his touch to seek more pleasure. So fucking desperate to tip over that edge for the first time since his bloody rut started.

But it wasn't enough; it was never fucking enough.

No matter how fast his hand moved, his thumb brushing the crown of his dick as he teased himself. It was like a fucking wall, blocking him right before he could fall over the sweet edge. The coil that twisted deep in his gut, his cock growing as he so desperately wanted to cum as Zuko's groans grew in volume.

So close, so fucking close every time but-

The shout of frustration as Zuko's fists slammed against the bed frame for the nth time this day because he was losing it. His rut was testing his patience beyond belief because Zuko knew; that even if he jerked himself off, he wouldn't be able to get off.

His nails were intending the wood as defeat, rage coursed through his veins. He was in so much distress, sexual frustration at its fucking finest as his balls felt heavy, and his cock begged him to get off just once.

But he can't unless-

"I need, Yue," Zuko wheezed, a haze falling over his mind because the whole room smelt of her.

A drug, and Zuko was sure he was currently overdosing.

How beautiful she'll look.

Yue's body sprawled on the bed, littered with bites marks from the inside of her thighs to breasts. Zuko able to look down over her body, watching as his cock would so easily slip into her needy cunt. His thumb strumming her sensitive clit with heat, the uncontrollable twitches from Yue's body as he would draw orgasm after orgasm from her.

A beautiful breeding toy for his sick entertainment. Yue's cries of bliss music to his ears; fuel for his insatiable lust.

Yue's tight walls milking and driving him to ruin her, break her and claim her as his. She'll look so pretty, cum trickling from between her legs. A sticky mess as Zuko would push back whatever cum would slowly drip from her sweet pussy with his long fingers before bottoming, her belly swollen with nothing but him.

And as if the spirits were testing him, he could hear her.

It was like the call of a siren, Zuko's head snapping to their bedroom doors as a bead of sweat plopped down his temple, his lips parted as he growled.

This was dangerous; he wouldn't be able to control himself, to hold back but- the twitch from his cock, another sweet bead of pre-cum dribbling down his length and further dirtying his trousers. Envisioning Yue back on her knees and dragging her tongue along the underside of his dick before swallowing him down her throat.

"Zuko is in a rut, Princess-" Zuko heard someone whisper-shout, and he couldn't stop the twitching of his fingers listening to someone so close to his precious. A protectiveness, Zuko's body, inching itself closer to the door as his sanity slowly started slipping through his fingertips.

"But he needs me, Sokka! Let me in!" Yue cried.

Oh, those sweet cries of her squirting around his fingers as he fingerfucked her on his lap. Maybe he could have her sitting right up against the mirror so she can watch herself cum as his fingers curled inside of her.

No. Yue leave, Zuko begged mentally as he hissed under his breath, taking in that he was currently forcing himself not to rip open their bedroom door and draw her inside.

"Zuko said to keep you, out" Sokka reasoned, but Zuko could hear the determined pout on Yue's lips. Lips that would look so good around Zuko's length. Gagging as he seized her long locks and fucked her mouth, his hips snapping-

Zuko didn't even realize what he was doing until he saw Sokka and Yue before him. The both of them staring up at him like prey that had just been caught, each holding their breath.

"Zuko-" Sokka would blow, but it was fruitless.

Zuko's eyes locked with Yue; pupils blown as he stared at Yue with a wanting that even had Yue quivering in her spot. But despite the pregnant pause that fell over them, Zuko licked his lips because he could see.

The gulp Yue took as she nibbled on her lip, her fingers toying with the front of her dress as a flush painted over her skin. And Zuko swears he could taste Yue in the air. So luscious and delicate.

"Zuko?" Yue would rustle, her hands reaching out to caress his bare chest, but with a wince, Zuko rose his hands, stopping her. His mind was racing, but he knew the moment Yue's skin touched his, he would be far too gone to control. The hungry looks Yue sent him alone were close enough to make him lose it completely, her eyes studying his physique as Zuko combed his hair back.

"Yue, we need to go now," Sokka warned, fast to grab her, but the snarl Zuko unleashed at Sokka had everyone stilling.

It was a warning, the only indication Zuko would give to Sokka because the thought of Yue having another scent on her besides his had him boiling with fury. If only Zuko could have his way, mate her, maybe have her walk around the kingdom every day with his cum dripping from her core to make a damn point.

"I'll make this quick, love." Zuko finally spoke, voice rasped.

His throat felt dry as he fought with the last of his willpower not to pin Yue against the door and fuck her senseless in the hallway. The fact that he was sporting the most prominent hard-on, in view of everyone, didn't even bother him.

Zuko's mind was hyper-focused on Yue. Every time she breathed or blinked, it didn't go ignored by Zuko. And he took a dangerous step forward, his frame towering over her. In seconds, Yue found herself cornered against the door and him, Zuko placing his hands on either side of her face.

"Zuko." Yue questioned, and Zuko spoke, "This is your only warning, love. You run off and stay far, far, away from me. Or-"

"Or?" Yue perked with a curious simper.

"I claim you, no holding back cause I intend to break you." Zuko hushed, and Yue merely giggled.

Such a light-hearted giggle that despite the overwhelming hormones of his heat, Zuko found himself taken aback. It was so out of place, but the way Yue's eyes shined as she looked up at him, continuing to nibble on her lip and batting her eyelashes.

"Break me, Zuko," Yue whispered, and Zuko's eyes shut with a shaky breath as he felt her fingers run down his chest.

Every fantasy, dirty thought that ran through his mind was now coming to life as her soft lips pressed against his, "Claim me like how I claimed you."

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters besides any original characters I have created.

Cross-posted on Ao3/Tumblr/Quotev/Wattpad to discourage plagiarism.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

350 notes · View notes

silverinia · 4 years ago

Text

I came for Baranski, I stayed for Baranski - a quick Christmas On The Square review someone* actually asked for

(* thank you, anon)

Disclaimer: I am in no way a professional of any sorts when it comes to film and I'm not a journalist either. The last movie review I've written was probably for a school assignment in eighth grade. I didn't do research for this and I've watched the movie exactly one time, so this is just for fun.

It was a Sunday, Sunday the 22nd of November, nearing the end of the train wreck of a year that is 2020. I woke up on an air mattress around seven am, my head aching, my throat itching with pyrosis and light nausea, it was still dark outside behind the closed blinds in front of the windows, when I slowly realised where I was, one of my best girlfriends sleeping next to me in her bed. I had crashed at her place after a warm, fuzzy evening of mulled wine, tacky Christmas movies I would never watch alone (Christmas Chronicles and Holiday Calendar, which I quite honestly didn't enjoy at all, but the company made it fun anyway), doing our nails, wearing the fun kind of face masks for a change and smoking too many cigarettes, as the soft pain in my head informed me right now. She woke up an hour later and the morning went by with coffee and reheated pizza for breakfast, when we decided to watch another movie and I realised that it was THE Sunday I'd been waiting for through Zoom interviews and Dolly Parton twitter memes and the infamous wig gate that will be briefly discussed in the following, and so we clicked on the small icon in the Netflix menu that said "Christmas On The Square".

And oh boy, was it a ride.

To start off, I should mention that I have a hard time watching most modern day American Christmas movies, as I noticed quite vividly again when I watched the two aforementioned Netflix productions last night. The character development is always foreseeable to say the least, the plot lines are plain clichés hunting each other like they're the kids in The Hunger Games, and the writing is generally so bad that you can join the actors in reciting the entire scripts on your first watch. I watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas once a year while I'm gift wrapping and pause every fifteen minutes to shamelessly stare at forties Christine Baranski (I think we should all turn away from the birth of Jesus and instead count our years based on Christine Baranski's date of birth) in flamboyant nightgowns and short Christmas themed dresses, looking so fabulous that every interpreter of Santa Baby ever could only dream of it, I watch Love Actually at least five times a year to lust over Hugh Grant, cry with Emma Thompson and miss Alan Rickman, I enjoy Bridget Jones, which I would definitely consider a Christmas movie, and that's it. That's my yearly Christmas time entertainment routine and I can barely tolerate anything beyond, because I'm still traumatised from the time when I was around five years old and on a holiday family visit where had to sit through National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, the dumbest movie I have ever seen (my apologies if you like it but also, who hurt you?), with my cousins. I hated it. I hated every minute of it. And it scarred me for life.

But this was a Christine Baranski movie, I knew she was going to play the lead and so I was pretty much as excited about this as I could. And the fact that Dolly Parton wrote the whole thing didn't hurt either. As I said earlier to my friend I was watching it with, I have the pop cultural taste of a fifty year old gay man, a quality I am most proud of, and this simply ticked off all my boxes.

I expected something similar to a Mamma Mia experience that wouldn't cause me to crave packing my bags, give Covid the finger and run off to Greece. Light-hearted entertainment, easy to stomach, uplifting music and so little plot that the simplicity feels like a creative choice. That's what my pained, hungover brain knew it could cope with and that's not what I got.

The movie started and I was immediately in the zone. I saw Christine Baranski's name in the front credits (an experience that never fails to make me scream "Yass Queen" at the screen, regardless of where I am and who I'm with, as if I'm the sobering result that pops out of the package when you order Jonathan Van Ness on Wish), the setting was wonderfully corny (I grew up watching Gilmore Girls once a week, so give me warm fairy lights and a gazebo and I'm perfectly happy) and as my friend wondered whether Dolly Parton, in her exaggerated homeless attire that didn't make her look shabby at all, was green-screened into the setting because she stood out so much (which she was because the background dancers were dancing in slow motion, but to be fair, we were probably still a little too drunk to notice that from the start) and I told her I thought that it was just the natural glow someone who's Dolly Parton simply carries with them everywhere they go, I was happy. This was the movie I was prepared for. A movie in which the most problematic thing would be stereotypical characters and the wig they hid Christine's real, flawlessly handmade by God herself hair under.

And then, around five minutes in, Christine Baranski's childhood love interest was revealed as she pressed her perfect pointy nose against the window of his shop and sang about her unrequited love.

And suddenly, things started taking turns at a pace I was still way too sleep-deprived for.

Suddenly, in the middle of my general amazement at seeing Christine Baranski do literally anything and laughing loud at her impeccable comedic delivery, there were unresolved daddy issues, hanging prominently at the wall in her marvellously designed house (she literally says "Daddy" at one point and I couldn't help but think that only someone with her vocal skills could keep from making it sound cringe-worthily kinky). One moment, I was clutching my chest above my heart while she was bonding with little bartender Violet and munching on pretzels while downing some whiskey in that elegant way only Christine Baranski can bond with ten year olds who had it rough, eat pretzels and down whiskey, and the next she felt responsible for said girl's mother's death (which she kinda was too, but I'm not the boss of her). I was still busy making fun of how the very annoyingly, but when you're snacking on pizza with extra cheese at nine in the morning also highly funny, slow talking pastor's name was Christian, and suddenly there was a cancer scare.

It was a lot, a hasty sprint from major issue to major issue with a hint of comedic relief every now and then, and it didn't get any less until the very, rather poorly resolved, end.

The entire, constant up and down was followed by the movie's peak of suspense, the near death of precious Violet, something I couldn't even get too invested in because I was still so busy worrying about Christine's MRT results (I was truly fucking worried), not to mention that I hadn't even started to really process the sudden revelation of the love child and how it had affected her character's actions until this point. Was her constant tendency of pushing people away, as we've seen most clearly with her angel in training assistant who's name I cannot recall right now, the result of her broken trust in her father who practically ripped her son away from her after she had just given birth to him? Was it a result of her never getting the closure she needed with plaid flannel wearing Carl she was clearly still in love with? Maybe both? And what of the many issues was it that made her so incredibly shaken up when Violet blamed herself for her mother's death? Was it 'just' due to the fact that the closed pharmacy was on her, or was there more to it? Was it because she had grown up without a mother herself? Or did I miss a major piece of information because I was momentarily distracted, dumbfoundedly staring at Christine's very blue eyes? No time to ponder on that, little Silverinia, because here comes unconscious Violet in an ambulance, WEE WOO WEE WOO WEE WOO!

I'm not going to go in depth about what plot lines I thought were especially carelessly handled and why, real standouts were the sudden forgiveness towards her father who had still acted like a shitty asshole even though he might have had his reasons, because giving the baby up for adoption just wasn't his choice to make, and the fact that I kind of didn't buy how quickly Regina managed to forgive herself, especially for Violet's mother's passing, considering how deeply her tall, slim, dare I say angelic and entrancing figure was buried beneath the weight of all her issues. It felt rushed and incomplete, but that's as detailed as it gets because my major point is something else.

I think this movie made the great mistake of trying to be more than your average, flat, happy ending Christmas movie. I think no one involved thought it was possible to make it a big hit if the only real plot would've been great Dolly Parton music, fun ensemble dance choreographies, Christine Baranski's outstanding acting skills, fun settings and costumes and a redemption arch with as little plot as it could possibly take to make Christine likable to those who aren't already lost forever in the rabbit hole of being obsessed with her (poor fuckers, can't relate). They didn't notice that with the legends that were involved, they could've easily gone the Mamma Mia way. And I think that's why they tried to include heavier plot lines than most creators would've chosen, experiencing loss at an early age, struggling to find closure, dealing with sickness, teenage pregnancy, parents forcing their choices on their children when they affect their childrens' lives first, adoption, and the fear of losing your kid.

It was a lot and I don't want to say that it didn't work because my friend was crying, like, pretty hard and I questioned my entire existence all through the movie in not the worst way, and I did enjoy it a lot while watching. The "grief is love with nowhere to go" line was a real standout, for example, where the attempt of complexity DID work. It positively gave me fleabag season two, "I don't know what to do with it now, with all the love I have for her." - "I'll take it. It sounds lovely. You have to give it to me." feels, and that's about the biggest praise I can come up with. BUT (and this is written in capital letters because it's the big but) I'm also totally convinced that I wouldn't have enjoyed it if they hadn't cast Christine Baranski for the lead role. In my humble opinion, the hasty, not really at all resolved plot of this movie only worked because Christine Baranski is just a fantastic actress. She quirks a mocking eyebrow and you laugh. She parts her perfectly painted red lips and you immediately hang on them because you don't want to miss a single breath she, a literal goddess, graces us mere peasants of people with. She smiles and you're happy. She laughs and even while she's still laughing, you can't wait to hear her do it again. Her eyes fill with tears and you feel goosebumps on your arms, her voice slightly trembles, a breath hitches in her throat and you feel your heart shattering to pieces. As Chuck Lorre once said, this woman could read you the phone book and you would end up laughing tears because she just gets the job done. She knows what she's doing, she's an absolute pro in her game, and it doesn't matter, not even a little bit, what she's working with, because the work she eventually delivers with it is always at a minimum of 200%. I forced my friend to watch this movie with me because I adore this woman, and I felt for this movie because I felt for her. It wasn't the plot that sadly brutally overestimated itself, it wasn't the songs that I obviously enjoyed, nor the comedic elements that truly made me laugh a lot, it was all her. I came for Baranski, and I stayed for Baranski. This woman can do anything. She can even look graceful in a terrible wig job.

(side note / unpopular opinion: I actually didn't think the wig was all too bad. It wasn't good, actually far from good, but for me, nothing can match the awful wig game of Mamma Mia 2. I loathed that wig, I absolutely cannot stand it. So this didn't feel all that terrible. It definitely wasn't the most problematic part about the movie.)

I enjoyed watching this. It was a nice distraction from all the bullshit in the world. Watching it today was the first thing this year that actually brought me something close to excitement about the holiday season, even though everything will be very different and probably not quite as jolly this year. But it just gave me good vibes and as someone who did not watch this as a film reviewer, that's the biggest part of what leads me to enjoy a movie.

Will I watch this again? For sure. Will I enjoy it when I'm not hungover, having freshly done nails and munching delicious pizza for breakfast? Probably not as much, but it'll still have Christine Baranski in it. Would I recommend watching this? If you share my obsession with Queen B, one hundo. If you don't, probably not.

#Christine Baranski #Christmas On The Square #dolly parton #shitty movie reviews by yours truly

12 notes · View notes

wherevermyway · 4 years ago

Text

kinktober day one: food play

kinktober day one: food play alternative title: like ketchup on a hot dog what the fuck is wrong with me

pairing: hwang hyunjin/lee felix rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: WOW AM I GOING TO HELL FOR THIS but trashy smut, food play, ketchup as lube (yes you read that correctly), oral, profanity, hyunjin is a little aggressive with french fries, alcohol, degrading words, praise kink, hint of dacryphilia, bottom!felix, top!hyunjin, some feelings at the end. this is really gross and i hate that i wrote it. word count: idk like 2,800 or some shit on AO3 too.

sorry in advance to the anons that wanted individual hyunjin and felix things but i am stupid and cannot figure out how food kinks work so i smooshed them together (literally i guess lol) and i am now going to hell goodbye. also i was eating fries with barbecue sauce last night when i got drunk and this idea hit me. also nsfw twitter is something entirely different.

recommended tracks: beware by stray kids, sexual healing (kygo remix) by marvin gaye and kygo, kerosene! by yves tumor

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

note: for the love of minho’s cats, do not consume alcohol. you’ll write stuff like this.

For some reason, Hyunjin always got really bad ideas when he had a couple of drinks in his system. Tonight’s bad idea, for instance, was getting his roommate to lick some ketchup off of his shirt, a big, thick glob of it resting on his sternum.

“Hey,” Hyunjin says with a bit of a slur, poking his head to the side to look into Felix’s room. “C’mere a sec, yeah?”

The younger man grumbles as he sulks his way out of his room. “What do you want now?” Felix always found Hyunjin kind of annoying, but even more so when he was drinking. He only put up with the older man because he let Felix live in his apartment for free while he was finishing up his culinary programme and needed to save money.

The two of them had a really strange relationship. They met a couple years ago when Felix had started working at Hyunjin’s parents’ restaurant. It started off polite and innocent, up until one night where all of the waitstaff decided to get drunk and play some games. The lead waiter, Minho, was a jerk who liked to watch people squirm, so when he dared Hyunjin to kiss Felix, nobody was really surprised.

What was surprising, however, is that Hyunjin actually did it. He had slammed his hands down on the table, crawling over the empty bottles of soju and cans of beer and dragged his way across the table and into Felix’s lap. The way that Hyunjin pressed his hips against the man beneath him as he grabbed Felix’s face and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss drove Felix mad for days. He didn’t want to stop kissing Hyunjin, not one bit.

“I need you to do something for me,” Hyunjin smirks, pulling Felix out of his memory. The brunette points down to his shirt and scoffs. “Clean me up.”

This was going to be one of those nights.

God, he hated how much of a snotty brat Hyunjin was. It was obvious that he had a nice, plush lifestyle growing up, being catered to hand-and-foot by all of the staff that helped raise him. Felix rolls his eyes and starts to walk to the kitchen, until Hyunjin interrupts him with a devilish grin creeping up on his face.

“Nah, wait,” he leans back against the couch, placing his arm on the back of the furniture, arrogantly smiling at the younger man. “Come clean it up. Hands-free.”

Felix grits his teeth and clenches his fist a bit. If Hyunjin didn’t fuck him so well, he wouldn’t put up with this; he would tell him off and tell him to get bent. But there he was, making his way over to the man on the couch, because he was already half-hard thinking about kissing Hyunjin’s stupid lips.

The men stared at each other for a second, before Felix huffed and straddled Hyunjin’s lap. The briny scent of the ketchup on Hyunjin’s shirt overwhelmed Felix’s sense of smell for a moment, getting worse as he bent down and brought himself closer to the viscous glob. Vinegar, sugar, and salt was all he could think about as he nervously stuck his tongue out, not really sure if this was a good idea.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin grumbles, “I wanna watch you lick it up, let’s go.”

Hyunjin was infuriating to Felix. He wanted nothing more than to punch that smirk off of his face, but he didn’t. He never would. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh and presses his tongue up against the older man’s shirt, the overwhelming flavour of sugary vinegar overtaking his mouth.

Felix swallowed it down, then did a couple more licks for good measure, just to piss off Hyunjin a little more. It likely worked, because the extra swipes caused the brunette to groan in irritation and grind his pelvis up in response.

“That’s a good boy,” Hyunjin moans out, reaching a hand up to grab a fistful of Felix’s hair. “Hyungie wants to play tonight and hyungie isn’t gonna be very nice to his fucktoy. You still good with using ‘red’ as your word?”

Felix scrunches his nose up in disgust as the unbearable scent of ketchup was quickly replaced by the gross stench of stale beer floating from Hyunjin’s breath. This was going to be a long night. He hesitates, thinking about how stupid the dynamic between them was, for how stupid he was for being Hyunjin’s personal cumrag, how stupid it was that he loved every second of it. He gets lost in his confused regret for a moment, then nods his head a couple times.

“Use your words,” Hyunjin commands, tugging the blond’s hair a little harder.

Fuck. Felix really loved this and it was beyond stupid.

“Yes, hyung,” he breathes out, his voice creaking a bit from the fingers in his hair.

“Good boy.” Hyunjin tugs at Felix’s hair again, taking his free hand and gripping the younger man’s hip. A devious smile comes up on Hyunjin’s face and his eyes darken before he digs his fingers into Felix’s hair and hip harder, and pushes him down, practically throwing him into the couch.

It happened so fast, Felix couldn’t really wrap his head around it, blinking his eyes rapidly as he stared into the couch cushion. He turned his head, looking up to Hyunjin towering over him with that cocky fucking smirk on his face. Normally, he hated that smirk, but right now, all Felix wanted to do was shove his dick in it.

Hyunjin reaches down to Felix’s hair again, grabbing it to roll him over. “Look at me.”

As requested, Felix timidly looks up at Hyunjin. His stomach drops a bit when Hyunjin swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and bites it.

“Open.”

Felix timidly drops his jaw, sticking his tongue out as he watches Hyunjin reach down to the plate on the table behind them, grabbing a fistful of the limp, cold fried potatoes, and his eyes instantly widened. That was a lot of fries. Was he seriously gonna shove all of them in his face?

Yes, he absolutely was. Of course he was. Hyunjin was an asshole and Felix stupidly ate it up.

Salt and grease fill Felix’s mouth as Hyunjin jams every single one of those damn fries into his face, making sure to poke the stragglers in a little harder, just for good measure. Tears started burning at the corner of Felix’s eyes, surprised and shocked at how full his mouth was, at how much discomfort coursed through his jaw.

“Cry for me, you pathetic baby,” Hyunjin laughs. “You know hyungie loves it when you cry for him.”

And so, he did. Felix didn’t really feel like crying, but he knew that Hyunjin loved it when the tears would spill down his face. He would be rewarded later with a mind-blowing orgasm, but he had to be patient. So, he let the insincere tears roll down his face, bleeding into the fries sticking out of his mouth.

“You’re so pretty when you cry.” The brunette smiles, wiping a tear off of the cheek of the man beneath him. “You’re so pretty all the time, baby. My pretty baby.”

Felix’s eyebrow twitched as he thought over what Hyunjin just said. Was he being nice and sincerely complimenting him for once, or was it just the rush of alcohol and oxytocin rushing through his veins?

Drool started spilling from both corners of Felix’s mouth as he pondered the words echoing in his mind. A strange fluttering filled his stomach as he just could not stop thinking about it. Did Felix actually enjoy this weird dynamic between them?

“C’mon,” Hyunjin whines, poking at the fries hanging from Felix’s mouth. “I wanna fill that hole with something else now. Eat them right now, please. I’m really hard and wanna come all over you.”

It was awkward to even think about how in the hell he was going to get all of those fries down his throat. They were gross and slimy and covered in saliva, which wasn’t appetizing at all to Felix. The way they disintegrated as he tried to chew them, failing miserably as squishy blobs of potato and saliva fell from his lips, it felt strange and uncomfortable. Felix never understood why Hyunjin liked forcing him to eat things, but he also just didn’t understand Hyunjin at all.

A bit of a triumphant feeling washes over Felix as he finally has an empty mouth again, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders and he could breathe again. He didn’t have much time to appreciate the sensation, however, as Hyunjin pulls his cock out from his joggers, rubbing it up against Felix’s cheek.

Hyunjin smirks, then reaches behind him and grabs the bottle of ketchup off of the table, giving it a couple shakes as he looks down to Felix. Mentally, Felix swore he would never eat ketchup ever again after all of this was over. He knew that every time he saw it, he would think about Hyunjin squirting it all over his dick, some of the liquid splashing up against Felix’s face as it collided against their skin with force, splattering everywhere and making an absolute mess.

He would think about Hyunjin every time he thought of ketchup now, and he knew he would instantaneously get hard at the memory, and he hated how stupid that was.

Felix hated the smell of ketchup right against his nose, but the musky smell of Hyunjin’s sweaty skin mixed with it somehow made it more palatable. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Hyunjin’s face, losing himself in just how fucked-out he looked.

“Thought this would taste better than the lube, go with the flavour of the fries, yeah?” The corner of Hyunjin’s lips tilted upright as he slipped his sticky, dripping cock against Felix’s mouth. “Open up and take me, baby.”

He knew he was going to roll his eyes at the thought of this later, but he did as requested, as Hyunjin slowly pressed his cock into Felix’s mouth. The ketchup burned his nose because there was just so much of it. It bubbled up around his lips and started spilling down his chin, his throat, until it landed on his pants and the carpet, dripping down in big, thick globs. He shouldn’t enjoy this, but Felix was getting into it. Every fibre in his being said that this was stupid, their dynamic was terrible, that no sane person would enjoy taking a dick in their mouth with ketchup smeared all over it like it was a fucking hot dog.

God, he really did love how fucked up this was.

“Good boy, baby,” Hyunjin coos as his cock hits the back of Felix’s throat. “I’m gonna move now, so lemme know if it’s too much.”

Felix moans against Hyunjin’s dick, knowing that the sensation would drive his senior absolutely mad. He rolls his tongue around the top of Hyunjin’s head, then moves his hands up to grab on to Hyunjin’s hips. He wanted to palm himself through his pants, his very hard and very obvious erection painfully throbbing against the fabric of his briefs.

He just had to be patient for a little longer.

Hyunjin gives no warning before he pulls his cock back, almost completely taking it out, then he slams it back in, lightly grazing against Felix’s teeth and getting residual bits of ketchup all over them both. It was messy, it was dirty, it was filthy, but both of them were loving it too much to stop. There was something about how taboo this all was that Hyunjin loved. He loved everything about topping his roommate, about how they’d experiment with stupid kinks they found on the internet, about how much they hated each other sometimes.

There would never be another friend quite like Felix to Hyunjin, and he loved every second of their bizarre codependency on each other. They didn’t bother masturbating anymore, they just haphazardly fucked whenever and wherever they felt like it: sometimes in the kitchen, where Hyunjin took some of Felix’s brownie batter and smeared it all over his face; sometimes in the shower, right up against the glass door; sometimes they would have lazy midnight sex where one of them would groggily intrude their way into the other’s room and just push their mouth against the other’s lips, desperate for skinship.

Felix loved to pester Hyunjin, pushing his buttons just so he could get a good dicking every so often. Hyunjin loved to watch Felix inanely bite at his lips every time he came up with some masterful dish in the kitchen and just how proud he would be when it was completed.

Hyunjin also really loved it when Felix would bob his head up and down his cock because he was just so good at it. He had been with a few different people before, but the sexual chemistry between the two of them was just so good, he wasn’t sure he could ever fuck another human being on the entire planet again.

“Good boy, Felix,” Hyunjin moans, throwing his head back as he grips Felix’s blond hair. “God, you’re so good, baby. I want you on my cock forever.”

The fucking was always good, sure, but Felix loved the way that Hyunjin praised him during sex. It was so unabashedly unrestricted, and sometimes he would say really stupid shit that made it sound like they were dating each other, but he swore he could come just from the way that Hyunjin would call him a good boy. He was Hyunjin’s good boy, and he loved it.

Felix rolls his eyes back as Hyunjin’s thrusting gets a little more reckless and uneven. He was getting close, which meant that he was going to get to come soon, too. “Fuck, baby,” Hyunjin whines, starting to twitch and roll his head around erratically. “I’m gonna come, gonna come all over that pretty face of yours.”

The older man pulls back, furiously fisting his cock as he looks down at Felix, his eyes half-open and his mouth wide, ready to take all of his cum. Fuck, he looked so pretty. He was a sweaty, filthy mess with dried tears under his eyes, drying ketchup splattered all over his face, and drool dripping down his chin.

Hyunjin lets out a strained cry as he spills his seed all over Felix’s face, just adding to the absolute mess they both were. He pants rapidly as he comes down from his high. His hands drop to his sides and he groans. “That was so good,” he whimpered, then looked down to Felix, bringing a hand up to wipe some of the cum and ketchup off his cheek. “You did so well. You okay, babe?”

Felix nods a couple of times, swallowing the weird mixture of fluids in his mouth down, and he looks up to Hyunjin. “I’ll feel a lot better after you get me off and we shower.” The two men awkwardly chuckle, blatantly ignoring the mess that was all around them. “I’m never gonna look at ketchup the same way again, though.”

They both may have had some weird dynamic between the two of them, and it may have been a little stupid, but it was them. As much as he hated to admit it, Felix loved it, and Hyunjin really did, too.

tags: @datura-inoxia and @huidawntrash

#tw: food #tw: degradation #tw: gross #tw: weird #tw: ketchup as lube lol #i cannot believe this #kinktober

16 notes · View notes

smolbeandrabbles · 5 years ago

Text

Gratitude: I Do Now - Orson Krennic x Reader (Rogue One)

Authors Note: ...Yeah, that GIF will do! Okay, so this one went through the works for reasons that don’t even matter anymore, and I wrote it anyway. Due to the nature of the original anon request our reader here is definitely gender neutral. This Is The First Thing - You Me At Six / I Do Now - Brad Paisley Disclaimer: I own nothing but did write all the words. Premise: Relationship problems weren’t unusual, but this scenario is completely new to him. Trying to think on the good vs the bad, Krennic realises he’s got a lot to be grateful for... Words: 1811 Warnings: drinking

_______ This is the first thing I thought This is the last thing that I want You were the first one I loved You were the first love I lost

You left it too late To change the way I think I'll never say never again Those words will never ever pass my lips --- I never knew how people wound up in a bar In the middle of the day Broken souls or broken lives From the choices that they made I didn't know how much I had to lose When I threw it all away But I do now, I do now Oh, I'd give anything If I could just go back in time somehow I wouldn't break your heart, I wouldn't break those vows ---

noun

the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.

I’ve never understood how people end up in a bar in the middle of the day...

Krennic watched the ring spin again; an endless loop of gold metal - the way even though he knew its size and shape it seemed to twist and break. Fitting for the situation, he thought and sighed. It slowed, the loops changing from entwining into one, to the single gold frame that declined to balance on its edge and fell with a clear sound - refusing to give up for a few seconds more before lying still.

He took another sip of alcohol; the kick sending a shiver to his system that he liked as he picked the ring up between his fingers again, and with a delicate spin started the whole process again.

I do now...

You. Not that he would ever do this to forget you. On the contrary the more he drunk the more you filled his head. A book full of life lessons - some of them hard - could be written on what had gone on between the two of you. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Both submissive to everything he said, and controlling when you wanted to be. You broke his heart as much as you made him love you - as much as you fuelled an obsession he couldn’t fight and didn’t ever want to stop. And he hurt you too, because he could. Because he got jealous, possessive… because sometimes he had a quest for revenge and took it too far. One endless circle, like this ring.

So why was he here? In a little bar on some planet he didn’t much care for, let alone remember the name of. And why was Krennic trying to think of things to be thankful for? Because he simply had a lot to be grateful for when it came to you. Because as much as you fought, and drove each other crazy, you loved each other. At least, he hoped you did. And when Krennic was like this he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He leant his head in his palm and spun the ring again; the sound of it scratching across the surface of the bar as it twirled in place likely driving the other patrons crazy, but he didn’t care. One more sip and the drink was done; but he didn’t pass his glass to the bartender, merely held it out as the liquid was replenished.

Gratitude.

Hard to show. Even harder to feel? Even cursing your name Krennic didn’t feel like it was hard to feel. Because he felt he always went about showing it wrong. Every time you’d picked him back up after a hard day, or being shouted down, every time you’d stayed and listened to his ranting, every time you’d loved on him to make him feel better... or feel something... you’d taught him so much that he couldn’t even think right now about how innumerable this list actually was. The way you would kiss him exactly when and where he needed it without him even having to ask. And the way you never made him say thank you; because you knew he was...

Krennic never thought he’d be grateful for fighting with anyone before you either. Long, passionate arguments - that never got physical, but with the sharp, brutally painful blows you often dealt each other, it sure would feel like it. But he learned how to wait it out, how to say just the right snarky thing at just the right time. How he wouldn’t even need words, just exactly the right look and he could finish and argument and win it. And Stars, how he needed that at work.

You also had a habit of sharing information with him. Information that was so vitally important in your remit of work. Both of you were in intelligence, and in that crisp white uniform. Of course, that on occasion led to you both turning up to work in jackets a few sizes different to usual. But that didn’t often matter, because you got to be surrounded by each other all day.

The secrets that otherwise passed between the two of you were each other’s to keep. And as far as he knew you both did. And with some of the things that had passed between you, he was surprised. Staring at that ring hard as this time it refused to fall; as it stilled it remained upright - and he spun it again, recklessly, to make sure it fell. With what you knew you could tear him down brick by brick. And he knew he’d never get up again from that. Dead and buried - if not even literally.

Krennic mused this for a long while; how his gratitude was boundless... but his words were not. How he would think saying something like that would show weakness. That would be exactly why he was where he was now. By design caring gave you a bonded strength. In numbers, even if his first thought would be he was better off alone. Perhaps not on the battle field; but secretly he would always hope to not see you there. Protecting you could come at too great a cost...

As soon as he felt a presence in front of him, he placed his hand over the ring and slid it from the counter. You didn’t see that the action attempted to say - even if he’d been doing the same thing over and over for hours... He bit his lip gently, followed by a small tongue roll and his sorrowful blue eyes raised from the dark wood to your face. Your arms folded, even though you wore a frown your expression was intrigued. You nodded to the counter “Someone special?” “That would be of very little consequence to you...” “Better than me?” He almost smiled; “They’re alright, yeah.”

It was good enough for you, for now. “Seems like an awfully lonely place to find yourself, Director...” you looked around, a couple of people who looked like they belonged here sat at a table at the back. A few other patrons scattered made him 1 of 5; and the only one sitting at the bar. He rose from his seat, finishing the last of his glass; “Perhaps. That doesn’t make me any less deserving of it.” “I think you do yourself a disservice...” “As do I.” But those blue eyes were still staring at you, so he wasn’t talking about himself. He paid his tab without even attempting to find the bar tender again and walked slowly along the length of the bar. You fell instep - but that physical barrier between you felt like the one you were really both putting up. You supposed you both had your reasons. If the rules of the Empire weren’t reasons enough...

You slipped under the end of the bar as you both made for the exit, both in silence and with the lack of a physical barrier you still maintained the gap between you. There were things you wanted to say to him. That you thought would slip away forever if you didn’t tell him now. But you couldn��t; so maybe they would have to. He was like having a mentor - and in a game you were both playing he was the only person you could trust. You had much to thank him for; as much as enough political backstabbing to actually want to run a dagger through him yourself. But you forgave him for that; because you got to watch him shine... and Orson Krennic was at his best when he was shining. (Without noting that you also got to pull all the strings here too...)

Outside the sun was shining and you both had to shield your eyes against it from the dingy little bar you’d both just spent time in. You noticed the ring hadn’t quite made its way back to his finger yet. “I would advise against the Empire finding you day drinking... Director.” He huffed; “Am I supposed to be grateful you did?” You gave a shrug, he was still just as mad at you as he was himself. “Better me than Tarkin...” Orson scoffed and turned back around “I don’t have enough in my system for this.” “I just don’t want to see you in trouble.” He paused at the honesty and his eyes flicked to yours - with heartfelt clarity. He could be, and bring out, the best of times and worst of times. But it was a balance. And it worked out for the both of you; somehow. You cared. You did it because you cared. And that was as much his reasoning too... he just hoped you knew that.

Krennic looked back to the door and swallowed hard; you weren’t going to move; he knew you were waiting for him to make his decision. And he couldn’t let you watch him do this to himself. He sighed, defeated and took a step back. But it was only a step, and his head bowed and his eyes cast back to the floor. So now you would wait for him to move. Still downcast his eyes traced back to you; and somewhere he found the courage to actually say it. “Thank you.” Your eyes widened a little in shock; what for? Dragging him out of a bar? “... for your love...” Oh. Surprising. “...it is... the best and worst thing that ever happened to me...”

His hand delved back into his pocket and the gold band glinted in the sunshine; “you give me so much to be grateful for... I can’t ever say it enough...” Orson slipped it back onto his left hand and rolled it thoughtfully between his fingers for a minute; “to the point where I think I just can’t say it...” he turned his body to you, and inclined his head; “So this might be that one time that I must.” His eyes met yours “I thank you...” but even yet, he turned away “but it may be a while before I am ready to return” his eyeline flicked over his shoulder; “enjoy your day, Y/N.”

And so you had to watch him walk away, with a smile and a shake of your head. You respected his feeling towards this enough not to follow. Thank you - it resounded in your head a couple of times. He said he didn’t say it enough. But he didn’t have to, because you knew. Of course you knew. It was always in his actions, always, even if he couldn’t see that. You turned to head in the opposite direction, with a quiet laugh to yourself. And in the same way he just had, you ran your thumb gently over the gold band that matched his;

No Orson, thank you. --- SIX Virtues down. SIX. Guys and Gals! We’re almost there!

2 Sins in the works...! @dennismitchell @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #MendoTagSquad. (With one changed username ;) )

50 notes · View notes

queenmylovely · 5 years ago

Text

The Fourth Stage

Summary: Gardner langway x fem!reader. Gardner meets someone new along his route.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, depression, angst, cussing

A/N: This is what I wrote for my first request. It’s much darker than anything I’ve ever wrote but I tried to be as true to the request and grief as I could. Also it’s in kind of a headcanon format but it’s over 7k words so idk. I hope you like what I wrote, and any feedback including likes, replies, and reblog are greatly appreciated!

Request: Something where Gardner falls for a PoC woman who’s emotionally broken

Disclaimer: I am not Black nor do I claim to know or understand the experience of Black people or Black women specifically. I was requested to write this by an anon that requested something with a PoC woman. I welcome constructive criticism for any part of my characterization of Reader. (I will not be accepting and will delete and block any racist hate.)

Masterlist

☆☆☆

You moved into your dad’s house in May, a month after he died.

It was a sudden heart attack at work, but apparently your dad had a will, so you inherited his house. Because you wanted to keep it in good condition and didn’t have anything tying you to your current place, you moved.

You hadn’t done anything with his things so all of your boxes were piled into the garage and you lived with his stuff instead.

His death had wrecked you, and you had quit your stupid summer job because doing anything but laying down seemed impossible.

While he hadn’t been a rich man, he had left enough money that this was possible for summer; something that you would have thought was lucky if the thought of anything related to his death being lucky didn’t make you sick.

You spent all day everyday in your bed, maybe making it to the kitchen once or twice but only for saltines and peanut butter out of the jar or a can of cold chili.

The highlight of your day, if you could call it that, was taking the hottest shower you could, in an effort to feel something other than the dull ache that was knowing your dad was dead.

But all it did was leave your skin dry and stinging, the slight pain only making you feel worse because you knew it was nothing compared to what your dad had felt.

Your mom called once a week, but since you had been raised by your dad after their divorce, she had little to say and you sat silent while she tried to think of things that would cause any reaction in you other than a grunt or sigh.

About a week after you moved in, as you’re laying in bed, eyes closed but sleep never reaching you, you hear something that you had noticed the day before.

It was the sound of footsteps approaching your door followed by a metal creak and then footsteps retreating again.

Most of the time, you were too lost in your head to notice the outside world, but it just so happened that yesterday you were walking to your kitchen when it had happened and when the sound repeated itself today, you took notice.

The next day, without realizing you had been waiting for it, you heard the sound again.

After it repeated the following day, you looked at the clock, reading 3:25pm.

On the fifth day you realized it must be the sound of the mail deliverer because when you collected the mail that night at 2:00am, the mailbox made the same creaking sound.

Soon, it became a comfort to hear that sound because of how consistent it was. Part of you wondered how the mail carrier was so exact with their timing, but for the most part you didn’t really care.

Three weeks later you found yourself moving from your bed to the couch around 3:00pm and you didn’t really know why until you heard the sound. It was louder since the door wasn’t separated by any walls.

When 3:24pm rolled around everyday, you held your breath in anticipation, letting it out as soon as you heard the steps coming up the walk.

Another week later, you moved from the couch at 3:15pm, sitting against the door with a blanket until you heard the sound.

From this position, you could hear the person’s fingers against the paper of the envelopes as they grabbed them from the bag.

The next day you jump when the person coughed as they walked away; it was the first sound that really affirmed to you that it was another person outside the door.

Three days later the person sneezed just after the metal creak and you realized it was a guy.

You whispered, “Bless you” out of habit, though you knew that he would never know you said it.

Three days later, it wasn’t enough. Hearing his breathing and coughing and sneezing everyday was both too much and not enough to hear from this person you had never seen before.

You needed to make sure this person was real. Needed to know it wasn’t just the ghost of your own mind or a side effect of only sleeping in hour intervals and eating just twice a day on good days.

So, on a random Tuesday, you stood up at 3:23pm, swaying a bit from the head-rush that you got and tried to keep yourself from hyperventilating as you waited for two excruciating minutes.

When you heard the footsteps, but before the metal creak, you opened the door quickly, startling the person on your front step. He’s holding your mail in one hand and your eyes zeroed in on that and you reached out, grabbing the letters from him.

You closed the door just as fast but made sure it closed softly before dropping the mail on the floor and running back to your room.

Gardner stood on your front step, a little dumbfounded by what had just happened.

A couple of customers on his route knew when he delivered their mail, but usually they talked to him if they did.

He figured you weren’t trying to be rude though, with the gentle way you had taken the mail and closed the door. Plus, the look on your face had been more apprehensive than angry.

The next day, you stand and wait again. This time, you opened the door a little more calmly and actually looked at the guy.

He was an average looking white guy in a post office uniform. Your eyebrow raised imperceptibly at the hat he’s wearing but you just grabbed the mail again and closed the door.

Gardner looked down at himself as the door closed. He hadn’t missed the way your eyes had moved over his form. He also hadn’t missed the fact that you were wearing the same clothes as the day before.

Changing your clothes was a weekly occurrence. Somehow, your mom seemed to know that you needed to be told to, so you would after she called.

This week, you’re wearing grey sweats and one of your dad’s college sweatshirts from Howard.

Your hair was as dry as your skin from your too-hot showers. Naturally a 4a texture that you used to keep well defined was now frizzy and tangled. You didn’t have the energy to do your hair care routine anymore, only washing it and maybe pulling it into a low ponytail.

The third day he realized you’re still wearing the same thing and introduced himself before you could close the door.

“I’m Gardner.” You almost jumped when he talked, but the kind voice and harmless words reassured you.

“Y/N,” you replied, voice croaking from lack of use.

On the fourth day he said hi.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said with a closed lip smile.

“Hi Gardner,” you replied, and though the look of apprehension was gone, the smile was not returned.

Fifth day he made a comment about the weather.

“Nice weather today, nicer than yesterday.” he told you. You looked up at the sky for the first time in a while and nodded.

Sixth day he asked for the time.

“Do you have the time?” he asked as you opened the door.

“You’re wearing a watch,” you pointed out.

“It doesn’t work anymore,” he explained.

“It’s 3:25. You always come at 3:25,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Thank you,” he said with what almost looked like a little smirk but he’s turning away before you could be sure.

On the seventh day, you’re wearing different clothes. They’re still not necessarily real clothes; leggings that are pilled up and a Howard shirt, but Gardner still noticed.

“I like your shirt.”

“Thank you, it was my Dad’s,” you said, looking him in the eye. You didn’t smile, but there’s more expression in your face than before.

He nodded, knowing that if you wanted to say more you would.

Eighth day you’re wearing the same shirt but different leggings. Gardner made a comment about how it looks like it might rain.

This continued for another 10 days. Gardner always talked first, and you offered varying replies. Sometimes it’s just a nod, others it’s a sentence. You changed your clothes more often, and Gardner complimented you every time he noticed.

It’s a small thing, and the compliments were simple. “I like that shirt,” “Those pants look comfy,” or “I’m a fan of Jurassic Park too,” but whenever he said them, you got a small rush of dopamine that you’d gotten used to living without.

One day, you’re not at the door. Unbeknownst to Gardner, it’s the three month anniversary of your father’s death and nothing was enough to move you from your place on your bed. The dull pain was amplified in waves over the course of the day. Staring at the wall turned into uncontrollable sobbing in a matter of seconds and back again within minutes.

The next day, when you’re back at the door with red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks, Gardner didn’t mention your absence. Instead, he commented on the number of ads in today’s mail.

“That’s how you really know that the 4th of July is approaching, the mattress sales,” he joked and the corners of your mouth pulled slightly up as you grabbed the aforementioned ads and shut the door.

Another week later, Gardner walked up and when you opened the door, there’s nothing in his hands. You raised your eyebrows in a silent question.

“You don’t have any mail today,” he told you.

“Then why did you come to my door?” you asked in confusion.

“I like seeing you everyday. Part of my routine,” he said plainly.

You made a face he couldn’t quite decipher and replied, “Okay.”

“That’s a good color on you,” he gestured to your shirt which was a dark green.

“Thank you,” you said, supposing that the pine colored shirt did compliment your dark brown skin well.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, turning around and walking away. You watched him until he got to the edge of your yard, noticing the way he trudged as he walked and how he looked down at his feet. Shrugging to yourself, you closed the door.

Three days later you opened the door and before he could say anything you talked, “Gardener’s your first name?”

“Yeah, but without the ‘e.’”

“Okay,” you replied and he handed you the mail.

Three days later, it hit 100 degrees and you felt it even in the air conditioned house.

You opened the door as Gardner was at the edge of your yard and watched him approach. It’s not until he’s just five feet away that he noticed the door’s open, a side effect of watching the sidewalk.

It’s easy to see the sweat that’s sticking his shirt to his chest, dripping down his neck, and darkening the rim of his hat. Even after only being outside for under a minute, you could feel the beginnings of sweat on your body as well.

Gardner looked at you as you stood there before reaching into his bag for your mail. You looked as if you wanted to say something, so he didn’t interrupt you with talk of the weather as he had planned.

“It’s too hot out,” you stated.

“I agree,” he agreed.

“I mean, it’s too hot for you to be outside,” you clarified.

“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds,” he recited.

You shook your head in slight frustration and then rushed out, “Do you want to come inside for a minute to get out of the heat?”

“Oh, um, sure I can do that,” he replied. As you stepped away from the doorway, he walked in and you closed the door behind him.

You led him to the kitchen which was freshly cleaned. When you realized how hot it was this morning and decided to invite him in, you had cleaned the kitchen in a fury.

Growing up, your dad had always made sure to clean the house well before guests came over, and made sure you did the same. The thought of disappointing him in that small way gave you enough energy to do the work that you hadn’t done the whole time you lived there.

You pulled down two cups from the cupboard and filled them with cool water. You set them on the table, sitting down and gesturing for him to do the same.

“I didn’t put ice ‘cause you’re not supposed to shock your system with water that’s too cold, but this should still be refreshing,” you told him.

“That’s good to know, thank you,” Gardner replied before gulping down the whole glass. You quirked your lips at his actions. He was trying to act like he was okay, but obviously he was having trouble dealing with the heat.

As you stood to refill his water, he looked at you a little more carefully. You’re wearing black running shorts that he’s seen before, but instead of the sweatshirt that you had paired with them, you’re wearing that t-shirt you had been wearing the first day he complimented your appearance. This time, it was knotted in front and the sleeves were cuffed so less fabric was touching your skin.

Garner tried not to look too hard at the exposed skin of your arms and legs, forcing his eyes up to your hair. At first, he had thought it was in a low ponytail like it was sometimes, but as he really looked now, he could tell it’s in one braid that hits between your shoulder blades. He could see the curls even in the plait, and as you turned around, he noticed that a couple of curls had escaped and were framing your face.

“Your hair looks nice,” he said softly.

You reached up and felt the braid. “Oh, I was cleaning,” you said, almost more to yourself than him. To keep your hair out of your face while cleaning, you always used to pull it into a simple braid. You hadn’t even realized you had done so today.

The two of you sat in silence for a minute until Gardner spoke up, “This is a really nice house.”

You could tell by the way he said it that he’s kind of purposely not asking any questions, just complimenting, but you slightly answered anyway, “Yeah, it was my dad’s.”

“Like the shirt,” he said as he pointed to the shirt you’re wearing.

You looked down and laughed, a sound he hadn’t heard yet. It’s a sound that surprised you as well; you hadn’t heard it in months. All of a sudden, it’s all you could do as an almost hysterical laugh took over your body. You’re laughing, gasping for air, and wiping the beginnings of tears from your eyes for a full minute before you answered, “Yeah, like the shirt,” in between giggles.

Gardner, to his credit, didn’t look freaked out and instead was smiling at the sound of your laughter. He decided that he really liked the sound, and would love to hear it again.

The two of you were smiling at each other for the better part of a minute before you dropped your gaze and took a sip of your water. Gardner copied you, waiting for you to make the next move.

You’re tapping your fingernails against the glass and looking into the water as you said your next words, “He died in April.”

Gardner nodded, but you only saw it from the corner of your eye. He had suspected for a while that something had happened. Well, really since April. While he had never met your dad, he noticed the mail pile up and then the change in only the first name on all of the mail. “That sucks.”

“It does,” you replied and took another sip of your water. You appreciated that he didn’t say I’m sorry like most people do and wondered what’s happened to him that he knew that those words don’t really help.

There’s a comfortable silence for another few minutes before Gardner finished his second glass and cleared his throat, standing up.

“Thank you for the water and for letting me come in here and cool off. I’ve gotta finish my route, so I have to go,” he informed you and you nodded.

“You’re welcome, Gardner,” you said as you led him back to your front door. You waved as he went out onto the front step, “Bye.”

“Bye,” he said back and started down the walk. Just before he reached the edge of your yard, he turned and looked back at you, smiling when he saw you hadn’t closed the door yet. You smiled back before closing the door.

Two days later, on Friday, it’s hot again, but it didn’t reach 100. You decided to invite him in anyway.

When you opened the door and he handed you your mail, you asked him, “Do you want to come inside again?”

He made a face you couldn’t quite comprehend. His eyes were squinty and his mouth was pressed down in a firm line. After a second, he replied.

“I actually can’t today. I have more mail than usual and I can’t get off track.”

“Oh,” you said, casting your eyes downwards and you started to slowly close the door.

“But I can come back after my route…?” Gardner offered, wanting to see you again.

“Okay,” you answered, the slightest of smiles creeping its way onto your face.

Gardner nodded and told you he’d be back around 5:30 and just as he started to turn away, you told him to wait.

You ran to your kitchen, grabbing a water bottle and filling quickly with water and just a bit of ice. Rushing back to the front door, you held it out to him and said, “At least take the water so you can stay hydrated.”

“Thank you. I’ll bring it back when I come back,” he said before waving and walking away.

You closed the door behind him and sat down on your living room couch. You sat there for a while, feeling something that you couldn’t quite place.

The feeling kept building slowly, and when you felt a drop in your stomach, you realized what it was. You’re nervous. It’s something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Since all you typically felt was the numbness, dull ache, or shooting pain, and now the calmness that came everyday at 3:25, you hadn’t recognized it at first.

Now, it was all you felt and you had to remind yourself to breathe in and out at a regular pace so you could remain at least a little calm.

Standing up, you walked to your bathroom and splashed some cold water on your face.

You looked in the mirror, taking in your appearance and seeing someone changed by grief.

Your hair was still in the braid from two days ago, and was very loose and frizzy. You took out the braid and shook it loose, watching it fall limply to the sides of your head, the natural volume and shape washed out by the harshness of the hot water. Knowing there wouldn’t be enough time for an entire routine, you pulled it into a much tighter french braid and called it good.

Next, you took in your face and how sunken your eyes were. Lack of sleep did wonders for the bags under your eyes.

Your skin looked dry and so did your lips. Trying to find some way to remedy this, you looked under the sink for lotion or something. Thankfully, your dad was very diligent about staying moisturized, and there’s shea and cocoa butter that you pull out.

Once you grabbed those, you could see what was behind them and smiled to yourself. It was a big jar of coconut oil, and you sent a little thank you to your dad. You used the butters to moisturize and the oil to help tame the baby hairs at the crown of your head before leaving for your bedroom.

There, you put on one of your less dingy pairs of black leggings, a black tank top, and one of your dad’s flannel shirts that you left unbuttoned.

You spent the next hour or so that you had to wait cleaning up the little mess that had accumulated since he last came inside.

At 5:31, you heard a knock at the door and opened it, as you had already been standing there.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said with a slight smile, even though he seemed to be a little out of breath.

“You’re late,” you said seriously.

“I’m sorry, my brother Calvin wouldn’t let me leave without telling me about his day, it took longer than I thought. I practically ran over here,” he said in a rush, with a worried look on his face.

“I’m joking,” you reassured him with a small smile and a little laugh. His face relaxed and he smiled back at you. “You’re only a minute late, so that doesn’t even count. Come in.”

“Thanks for understanding. I try to be very punctual,” he said as you led him into the living room and you both sat on the couch.

“I’ve noticed. I think that’s a good quality, but you shouldn’t stress yourself out about it.”

“I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t going to come or anything,” he explained.

“Well, you could’ve texted me or something.”

“I- um, I don’t have your number,” he pointed out, cheeks getting a little red, and not from the running.

“Oh, that’s right. Here, where’s your phone?” you said, reaching your hand out towards him. He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. You quickly went into his contacts and added yourself. You handed back his phone and he looked at it, a fond little smile coming onto his face. “There. You know, I like the uniform, but it’s kinda nice to see you out of it.”

Gardner was wearing just an orange and white striped polo shirt and jeans. He flushed slightly at your words but smiled back and barely whispered, “thank you.”

A slight silence fell, but neither of you really seemed to mind. Gardner was taking in your living room and you’re taking in him.

He was really a very unassuming person but he was actually pretty cute and you always found yourself unusually calm in his presence. Even after the afternoon that was filled with nerves, as soon as you opened the door and laid eyes on him, everything had evened out.

“So you have a brother?” you asked, breaking the silence. His eyes flicked back over to you when you spoke and he nodded.

“Yeah, Calvin. We live together. Well, I live in front of the house. In a boat,” he told you.

“A boat?” you said, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“A boat on stilts,” he explained.

“Do you ever take it out?” you asked, slowly understanding what he meant.

“Not really.”

“Mm. What does Calvin do?” you said to switch the subject since he didn’t really seem to want to talk about the boat.

“He works at a mechanic shop. It’s pretty good work, he likes it.”

“The one in town?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s the only one in town, so yeah,” he replied.

“Then I’ve been there. Maybe I saw him. It was a little while ago, though. Last year,” you continued.

“He’s shorter than me. Great hair though,” he said.

“Hmmm, I think I’d remember great hair,” you said with a chuckle and Gardner joined in.

“Do you wanna see the rest of the house? A tour?” you asked him after a second and he nodded happily.

You stood up with him and guided him towards the hallway. First, you pointed to the bathroom then walked down to the bedrooms.

Opening the door to your dad’s room, you felt a slight shiver run over you. It’s a mixture of how cold the room is since the door is always closed and the same pang you felt in your heart every time you looked in.

Usually, you looked around the room every couple of days, wanting to feel closer to your dad, and sometimes you got the best sleep on his bed, lying on top of the comforter. Still, every look reminded you that he’s gone.

You looked around the room as Gardner stood next to you. Unknowingly, you brought a hand to your chest as if you were trying to ease the pain that was there.

Seeing the physiological manifestation of your grief, Gardner felt his own heart hurting for you. He could relate to how horrible the first months were without a parent.

Carefully and slowly, he reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it and then leaving it there. It comforted you, and when you finally swallowed the lump in your throat, you moved your hand from your chest to his hand and held it there for a moment before turning around and showing him your room across the hall.

It was still a bit of a mess, but all of the trash had been removed and your dirty clothes were piled into the overflowing hamper. Gardner didn’t seem put off by that fact and looked around your room.

It was technically the spare room, but when you stayed there with your dad, it had practically been your room and was partially filled with little things your dad knew you liked.

On the windowsill were a couple beeswax candles. The top of the dresser had an interesting mix of children’s books and classics with a boxset of The Lord of the Rings on one side and of Star Trek: The Next Generation on the other as bookends.

“The Next Generation?” he asked in amusement.

“Definitely, it’s a classic,” you returned.

“Hmmm, I was always more fond of the Original Series,” he stated with a smirk.

“Well, I hate to inform you, but you’ve been missing out on the best Star Trek has to offer,” you said, only slightly teasing.

“I’m not sure about that…” he said, definitely teasing.

“Why don’t we watch it and see?” you countered with a smile that he quickly returned.

“Deal.”

You grabbed the box set and the two of you headed back to the living room. You popped the disc into the player and turned on the TV. As it started up, you realized this is the first time you’d be watching anything you used to watch with your dad without him.

Your breath hitched for a second, and Gardner noticed, turning his head to look at you. He saw how the look on your face had changed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

You took a second to breathe again and then nodded slowly, “...yeah, I just used to watch this with my dad and haven’t since he died.”

“We don’t have to watch it if you don’t want,” he offered.

“No, I do want to,” you told him, making sure to look at him so he could see the clarity in your eyes. He nodded and the two of you turned your attention back to the screen.

The two of you watched the episode, laughing at the funny parts and gasping at the surprises. By the end of it, you felt content, except for one thing.

“Gosh, are you starving? I swear my stomach was rumbling through the last 20 minutes,” you said with an easy laugh.

“That was you? I thought it was the show,” Gardner said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Shut up,” you said, giggling and Gardner joined in. “How do you feel about a pizza?”

“That sounds great,” he said with a grin.

“Good, what kind do you like? I like pepperoni, so we can do half and half if you like something else.”

“I like plain cheese,” he confessed a little sheepishly.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, picking up your phone and heading into the kitchen to find the pizza place’s number. You dug through a drawer your dad had with all that type of stuff and found it, placing an order for a delivery in half an hour.

You walked back in the living room and found Gardner sitting there with his hands in his lap, the TV paused.

“You didn’t have to pause the TV, I’ve seen all of these before,” you told him, sorry that he was probably bored.

“I wanted to watch with you,” he explained and you smiled, feeling your cheeks get a little warm.

You complied, sitting down on the couch and resuming the next episode. About ¾ of it passed before the pizza came, and you paused it again to get up and pay. Bringing the box into the kitchen, you beckoned Gardner to follow and he did willingly; his own stomach had started to rumble halfway into the second episode.

Pulling two plates down, you handed one to him and the two of you placed two slices each before grabbing a couple napkins.

“We can go back in the living room,” you informed him and he followed, you. Both of you dug in as soon as you pressed play.

Before long, the entire pizza was gone and the fourth episode was almost done. You noticed Gardner yawning into his hand and when it’s over, you offered to drive him home. He protested at first, but you insisted since it’s nearing 10:30pm and it’s already dark outside.

The drive was mainly quiet, the only words being said were Gardner’s directions. After about 10 minutes, you pulled up behind a boat on stilts. You laughed a little because part of you had doubted its existence, but there it was.

As Gardner started to reach for the door, you spoke up, “So what’s the verdict? Do you admit that TNG is better than TOS?”

He turned and looked at you with a slight smirk, “I don’t know. I’m still not sure that Picard can hold a candle to Kirk.”

“Okay, how dare you? Guess you’ll just have to watch more until you’re converted,” you told him, looking at him with a smile and a sure look in your eyes.

“Sounds like a plan. See you Monday,” he told you, opening the door and getting out. “Oh! I forgot your water bottle, it’s in the boat, I’ll go get it!”

He closed the door and started to jog away but you rolled down the window.

“Wait, Gardner!” you called out and he came back. “Don’t worry about it, you just keep it. You’ll get more use out of it than I would.”

“Okay,” he said, still a little unsure. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. See you Monday,” you told him and then drove away as he waved.

The drive back felt different. You didn’t drive much these days, only when you were absolutely out of food and could no longer ignore the hunger pangs in your body.

But, it’s kind of nice to drive again, and you felt happy for a second thinking about how nice the night was with Gardner. You got excited as you turned off your car to go inside and tell your dad all about it; he had always been incredibly supportive and understanding with your dating.

You left your car and used your keys to open the front door. Just as you opened your mouth to call out to your dad, you realized your mistake and the shock ran through your entire body.

Falling to your knees right there in front of the door, sobs racked your body and you had no choice but to give yourself up to them. That night, you fell asleep on your dad’s bed, having crawled to his room to try and find some comforting feeling there.

The next two days you spent all of your time in his bedroom, trying your hardest to feel his presence.

Monday came around and so did Gardner. Whatever kind of normalcy you had returned and the week continued on. On Friday, you invited Gardner over again to keep watching Star Trek.

This time, you ordered Chinese food and Gardner made you laugh as he tried to teach you to use chopsticks.

The summer heat had finally broken, and nights were finally getting cooler. Earlier in the day, you had opened the windows, and now they were letting in a cool breeze that was actually making you chilly and you noticed that Gardner had goosebumps.

Getting up during the theme song, you went to the hallway closet and grabbed a fuzzy blanket. Sitting back down, you draped it over both you and Gardner, and you had to sit closer so it covered the both of you.

Gardner thanked you and his voice cracked a little because the warmth he could feel radiating from your thigh touching his.

The two of you went back to watching the show, but between the blanket and Gardner’s warmth, you felt extremely cozy and started getting sleepy. Blinking slowly and yawning every couple of minutes, you tried to fight off the tiredness, but within 10 minutes, you’re dozing off.

Gardner noticed your tiredness but didn’t think too much of it until your head slumped over onto his shoulder. He turned his head and could see the profile of your face. Your eyes were closed and your face relaxed, your mouth just barely open.

He stayed as still as he could for a few minutes until he’s sure you’re deep asleep. Then, ever so slowly, he moved his arm from underneath your head so it could rest just above your shoulders on the couch.

Even in your sleep, you moved instinctively further into him, angling your head to lay on his chest and your legs came up onto the seats of the couch, pushing you further onto him. Your motion caused his arm to fall onto your shoulders and he left it there as you hummed happily in your sleep.

Eventually, your closeness and the soft sounds of the TV that he had turned down so as to not wake you up lulled Gardner to sleep as well.

The two of you remained sleeping until the morning. The sun shining brightly through an east-facing window was what woke you as it was directly on your face.

You kept your eyes closed so the sun didn’t blind you and immediately felt a pain in your neck. You thought to yourself that you must have slept wrong. That thought confused you, though, since normally you didn’t fall asleep long enough to cause any aches or pains.

The next thing that confused you was the movement you felt underneath your head. Bringing a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun, you opened your eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to get the sleep out of your eyes and take in your surroundings.

You gasped, moving your hand to cover your mouth as you realized that the thing moving underneath you was Gardner’s chest.

He’s still asleep. His head was leaning on the back of the couch, his mouth open, and you could hear his slow breathing. His right arm was resting on the arm of the couch and his left fell from your shoulders to your waist when you sat up to look at him. He had almost no blanket on him and you cringed at yourself for hogging the blanket.

You cringed again thinking how awkward it’s about to be when he woke up.

Pushing past your hesitation, you gently shook his shoulder, saying, “Gardner, wake up.”

Slowly, he started stirring and stretched inwardly, his arm tensing against your waist as he did. His eyes blinked open and he sleepily looked at you, confusion running onto his face as he saw how light it is.

“What time is it?” he asked worriedly.

“Ummm, 9:30am,” you informed him, looking at your phone.

“I’m so sorry, I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to impose. You just kind of fell asleep on me and I didn’t want to move until you woke up on your own but I guess I fell asleep too,” he rambled, looking around him. He saw his arm on your waist and quickly pulled it back to his side, blushing furiously.

“Gardner, it’s okay,” you told him, reaching for his hand at his side. “If anything it’s my fault because I fell asleep on you. Seriously, it’s all good.”

He looked at his hand in yours and nodded, looking up to you when you gave it a squeeze.

“Do you want some breakfast?” you asked. He nods again and you stood up to lead him to the kitchen.

This week, when you had gone grocery shopping, you had gotten more things than usual. That taste of pizza the previous Friday had reminded you how good cooked food was and you started actually cooking for yourself again.

You grabbed pancake mix and the griddle from the cupboard and got started.

Gardner chatted to you about how Calvin makes waffles but he likes pancakes too and about the events of the episodes the two of you watched last night.

He made you laugh with his theories about Riker and Deanna, and Picard and Dr. Crusher. The two of you shared little stories over pancakes; you told him a little about your dad and he told you about his friends at work and along the route.

After the two of you eat, he said that he should be on his way and that he could walk this time. You acquiesced, with the condition that he texted you when he got back so you would know he made it.

He opened your front door and stepped onto the front porch before turning back to say goodbye.

“Thanks for the food, it was good,” he said, a little awkward because he didn’t know where the two of you stood.

“You’re welcome,” you said, stepping out of the doorway and up to him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek and then told him softly, “I’ll see you soon, Gardner,” before going back inside and closing the door softly behind you.

Gardner stayed standing there for a moment, reaching a hand up to his cheek and repeating, “soon.”

He remembered to text you as soon as he got back, walking into the house instead of climbing into the boat. Calvin spotted him walking through the kitchen and called him into the backyard for a game of horseshoes.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” he asked as he picked up his shoes.

“Pretty good,” Gardner replied, picking his own up.

“You look kinda tired… Aren’t those the clothes you were wearing yesterday? Holy shit, did you stay the night at that girl’s place?” he asked gleefully, putting the pieces together. He tossed his first shoe and missed by a foot.

“Y/N, and yes, and yes. But we just slept. Well, she fell asleep on me on her couch and then I fell asleep too. My neck kinda hurts,” Gardner explained, rubbing his neck then throwing his first shoe, ringing it.

“Shit. Does she like you?” Calvin asked before throwing his second one that landed so it’s touching then pumping his fist in celebration.

“I don’t know, Cal. Maybe? She’s going through a rough time, her dad died a couple months ago and I don’t think she’s totally herself yet. You remember what I was like when they left,” he reminded him, throwing another ringer.

Calvin nodded in agreement. Gardner had been changed forever when his parents abandoned him, but that first year was especially brutal. Tossing his shoe first, and getting a ringer, he asked, “You like her though?”

“Yeah, I really really do. I know I don’t actually know the real or normal her, but I swear sometimes I get these flashes of her and it’s like the sun coming out after a cloudy day,” he said, pausing to throw his last one; it spun around the peg before landing on top of the other two. “But she’s amazing all the time. She’s kind and trusting and giving and non judgmental.”

“Why do you always win?” Calvin muttered under his breath before responding. “Well, she sounds great. Good luck.”

The pattern continued with you and Gardner, although it ramped up in frequency. He started coming over almost every other day, and the next weekend, asked you to dinner at a restaurant in town. Although you’re a little apprehensive, since you know Gardner will be there for you, you agreed.

It’s a great night and the two of you ate and then walk around the river, talking for hours. That night, when you dropped him off at the boat, you asked to see it and he welcomed you gladly.

You shared your first kiss after he brought you inside. Gardner was unsure at first, but you just pulled him closer and he lost his nerves when you placed his hands on your waist and then ran your own through his hair.

After a little while of making out, you decided to leave, knowing you aren’t ready for anything else. Giving him a final peck on the lips, you climbed back out of the boat and drove home. That night, you slept in your own bed, making it all through the night and only waking up once.

From then on, the two of you split your time together at your house, his boat, and going places in town. About once a week, you joined him on his route for an hour or so.

Gardner made you laugh, but also knew when you’re especially missing your dad and talked to you about him so his memory could comfort you.

One night, after the fifth season finale of Star Trek, you and he were cuddling on the couch. You’re sitting upright and his head’s in your lap facing the ceiling. Your hand was moving in little circles on his upper arm and he’s watching your face as you watched the credits.

It was a scene that was not uncommon between the two of you, but Gardner can’t seem to be able to help himself as he breathed out, “I love you.”

Your eyes snapped to his, and though he might have wished you missed the words, you heard them loud and clear and were looking at him in a way he can’t decipher.

“You do?”

“Yeah, um, I do,” he said, averting his eyes from your gaze. He knew that it might be too soon, but once he had the thought, it left his brain through his mouth and there was nothing he could do about it.

Gardner’s cheeks and neck are blushing red as he looked away, but you moved your hand to their junction, and used his jaw to turn his face and eyes back to you.

“I love you too, Gardner,” you told him earnestly.

He sat up and turned to you, mouthing “really,” and you nodded. His hands moved to your face and you moved yours to the back of his neck. When he didn’t close the gap, you did, pulling him to you and kissing him softly to assure him of the meaning behind your words.

Life continued, and you relished the last two weeks of summer before you had to go back to school. Since it would only be a 30 minute commute, you decided to continue living at your dad’s house.

You started to move your things out of the garage and into the house, packing away things of your dad’s that hold less significance to make room.

There will still be bad days in the future, and you won’t know when they’re coming or how long they’ll be. But, you know you have Gardner to lean on, and while he can’t take away your pain, he can offer you some comfort as you deal with it.

★★★

Taglist: @somekindof-cheese @gwilyoubemine @deacytits @supersonicfreddie @siriuslovesmarlene @bowiequeen @acdeaky @deakysgirl @sunflower-borhap-boys @deakyfordays @queensilveryrog @happy-at-home @ceruleanrainblues

I just kinda created this taglist so if you would like to be taken off or added, just send me a message or ask!

Reminder that my requests are open! If you would like something in a sort of one shot format/length or blurb, etc. send it in! I’ll write for any of the Borhap or Queen boys (Freddie only platonically), Lucy, Patrick Murray, Gardner Langway and adult!Tim Murphy or possibly any of the other characters these people have played if I know enough about them!

51 notes · View notes

boymeetsweevil · 6 years ago

Text

This is...understandable. It’s probably my least favorite chapter and, judging by the notes, (which are the least important thing but also are some way to gauge people’s general opinion of the fic if you want to try and guess things and make yourself worry about nothing) it’s other people’s least favorite chapter too. It’s a transition chapter that is supposed to tie up some of the loose ends that I wanted tied up before I focused on the part everyone has been waiting for basically. There’s a lot of those, which is part of the reason why the chapter is long. I also didn’t know where to end it and when I asked people, they said they preferred longer updates :/. There also needs to be basically a semester and a half worth’s jump in time, which is why it jumps around so much.

Now, I truly do welcome constructive criticism, but I think you didn’t do yourself a favor by acknowledging in the first sentence that the contents your ask are rude and then continuing to type instead of realizing that if you feel like you have to put a disclaimer on your ask, your comments need to be reformatted to be not mean/discouraging and actually helpful.

Being “brutally honest” in and of itself is not constructive criticism. Your opinion is an opinion, it’s not objective in any sense. Stating it like it’s the 6th law of thermodynamics doesn’t do anything for me if there’s nothing in it. Calling it like you see it isn’t motivation or helpful enough to move me and my writing in the “right direction”. Calling something a mess is not constructive criticism. Saying something went on and on isn’t really constructive either. The only nugget you have in there is that the transitions were too harsh and I had to squeeze that out of “the story jumped from one thing to the next”. Which is vague enough to make it sound like you’re not a fan of stories with plots that move. You know what you could have said? What I wrote. That thing up there about transitions not being smooth enough. You could have said it felt abrupt or that you felt my use of line breaks was gratuitous.

Also the fact that you forgot/skipped over the part in chapter 1 where I explain JK’s relationship to RealiCorp, the company that bought his software, the one whose headquarters are in New York (see chapter 2), has literally nothing to do with my writing skills and is not constructive criticism. FS is a long? series, so some things you might forget because you read it maybe once and then you don’t read it again and only visit my page when it comes time to read the next chapter. I’m the author, so obviously I’ll remember all these things. But I’m also the author, so I remember these things and that they’re there, and then you don’t read it and complain to me that it makes no sense after. Other people seemed surprised about New York too, but that’s not my problem tbh. It’s in there, if you don’t want to re-read it that’s fine. But if you don’t read it, then I don’t know what to tell you. Obviously you were confused enough about it to write me this ask but not confused enough to do a little digging to see that it shows up in the first 2 chapters and is a continuous plot point the whole series.

Idk if you have a tumblr, but I’m guessing that you do since you thought mentioning you were a big fan would cancel out your comments. Your decision to go on anon combined with how you wrote your feedback automatically makes me not really care about your opinion tbh. The anon part makes it look like your main goal is protecting yourself so that neither me nor anyone who reads this ask can, like, drag you. If you were really concerned about the quality of this series, why not DM me? Or at least re-phrase you ask?? I’m guessing it’s because you wanted to be more rude than helpful and were worried about getting reprimanded publicly. Which is understandable as well. But, again, isn’t something I can work with. And this is really ironic because I was considering editing it because I agree with you in it being the worst chapter. Like I was considering changing it and then this ask comes around.

What bothers me the most is that you sound like you’ve been around the blog for a while and just decided you didn’t care about my feelings enough to fact check or actually give me something substantial to work with. My feelings aren’t actually hurt, but I’m annoyed at this and at a lot of things that seem to come with writing shit on this website. Your final statement about not reading any further is honestly fine with me. I like the little implication you put in there that basically says you assume that all the other updates that will be coming as well are gonna be shitty/something you’d hate. Nice touch.

#lol #i really cant #like at least say it with your whole chest off anon #because my first impulse would have been to dm you and talk about it #but im just posting this and going #idc #i thought about putting a read more

20 notes · View notes

yoonia · 7 years ago

Note

DISCLAIMER: This is not meant to offend anyone. I have to say that lest some jump on my throat. Anyway, I wonder why can't you guys just ignore the less than pleasant asks and messages you receive? Ever heard of the phrase “stop feeding the trolls”? If you give it attention, not only do you give that person the reaction they want, you also create a commotion. And the cycle continues. If you stopped giving these messages attention, they will stop immediately. 1/3

And you will be happy. Your day is not ruined. You have peace of mind. Or if you reacted to these messages in perhaps, an unexpected way? For example, someone commented on my fic: “Your writing leaves me in awe! So much that I don’t think I can remember a single instance in my life where I read something this startlingly distasteful. What an achievement!” You know what I reply? “Aw, thank you! :)” Or I ignore it altogether. 2/3

I used to be like that, I engaged really hateful asks and messages and they were really unwarranted. I didn’t deserve them. But the more I gave it attention, the more I replied, the more miserable I felt. And those commenters were happy to be getting the attention they want. Eventually, I decided that I didn’t want them having power over me and my happiness. And that is when I started to just ignore them, or reply in a silly way. And I’ve been much happier ever since. Cheer up, cute girl! :) 3/3

If you’ve been on my blog a long time, you’d see that I don’t engage with hate that much cause I always ignore and block them right away. And honestly, no they didn’t ruin my day even when they came at me before my day even started. I wouldn’t even feed the trolls if there haven’t been people coming at my friends and trolling at the same time with ridiculous messages. I don’t know what you expect of me but I don’t remember me blowing up at those anons either, did I?

For the first message I received, I didn’t even respond other than laugh it off. I only responded to the last one cause I’m already so tired of people shading others while sending ‘nice complimenting words’ and it needs to stop. I have no idea if they did it on purpose (for some reason they sounded more as if all they did was re-wording the original ask I got cause I still feel like they were telling me that my writing is bland by saying how other people’s are too glorious for this world, I’m not stupid), but I do know some people who have done it without knowing that it’s wrong. So if I can send a message about it, why shouldn’t I?

Thank you for thinking about me, but honestly, I do have my own way to solve things and I know if I didn’t speak up on any of those messages, I’d be thinking about it all day when I was supposed to focus on finishing tons of work instead, and wording out my thoughts felt much better for me. And if you can’t see it through the words I wrote, then I’m letting you know that I’m not even feeling emotional about them at all. If any the ones that are making me feel highly emotional all day are my friends who have been supporting me with love. So don’t worry, my day went all great. And it is now officially past midnight again where I am, and that’s my cue to end my day.

I hope you’re having a splendid day/night wherever you are, anonie :’)

#pretty anonie #answered #also #even if you said you didn't mean to offend #you actually did

4 notes · View notes

buckywintersoldierbarnes2017 · 8 years ago

Text

Open Your Mind To The Unknown.

Request from anon: Can I request an avengers x reader where she's very young like 18-20 physically but she's actually a few 100 years old and a vampire? Fury assigns her as added protection for Barton's family but he's unsure of her because of what she is. He finds his family actually adores her and she's very loving and gentle with his kids. She only drinks animal blood and rarely human unless they are deemed a threat to the family.

Note: I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you all like reading it just as much. It was a completely different kind of idea and so the way I wrote it is, fingers crossed, hopefully how anon had it in their mind :)

Clint Barton x Vampire!Reader

Words: 1,986

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators <3

“Sorry could you just repeat what you said….” The expression on Clint’s face as he sat in the briefing room with the rest of The Avengers was one of sheer astonishment as he turned his attention to Tony. “…I must have been concussed in the last mission because I could have sworn you just said that there was going to be a goddamn vampire looking after my family.”

“I checked you over in the infirmary…..you’re not concussed.”

Bruce’s voice was like that of a nervous child as he put this out into the open – he was fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves, the tension that was slowly beginning to build up inside the room making him a little more nervous than usual. Clint shot him a glare before throwing his chair backwards and standing himself up straight.

“Then obviously you have given me some kind of hallucinogenic drug because I am hearing insane things coming out of Stark’s mouth here.”

The doctor shook his head but refused to speak out this time, unsure of how Clint would react if he did.

“She is more capable of protecting your family than all of us put together and with the sudden influx of HYDRA compounds being located the team is going to be away more and more…..she is the best chance you have at keeping your family safe and it has come down from Fury himself.”

“SHE DRINKS BLOOD FOR CHRISTS SAKE TONY!”

The archer’s face turned a deep red colour as his voice boomed throughout the whole room causing Nat to move towards him and place a hand onto his shoulder. Had it been anyone else it would have quickly been shrugged off but the redhead had always had a calming effect on him and although he was still angry he didn’t lunge for Tony which had been one of the plans of action running through his mind.

“Calm yourself down Robin Hood. Argue all you want as it’s been put into place already. [y/n] has been introduced to your family along with a couple of agents and she is at your home now.”

“Don’t know why you’re complaining anyway Barton….most I have ever seen of a vampire is in a moving picture. I think it’s awesome you’re going to have one in your home.”

Bucky’s low voice broke into the conversation but Steve swiftly extended his leg out underneath the table so that his foot connected with the brunette’s shin and the pain that followed was enough to stop him from saying anything else to make the situation worse.

“Yeah laugh it up all of you! Just remember who it is that covers your arses when you’re running into the firing line.” Taking his eyes away from all of them he rested them back onto Tony as he pointed a finger at him aggressively. “You better hope that bloodsucker doesn’t turn on my family Tony because if she does I will be coming after you.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Clint stood in the doorway of his home waiting for you to arrive before he headed off for a mission; even now a couple of weeks into you being assigned as his family’s protection he was still very unsure about you. This much was clear when his whole body language changed as you made your way across the grass to his family home, he didn’t need to be anywhere near you to notice the spot of blood tugged away in the corner of your lips.

“Which pour soul did you drink from today then?”

His voice was cold and his eyes were narrowed into slits as he looked you up and down like you were nothing but a disgusting mess to him. You didn’t let it get to you though….you had received judgement off those who weren’t the same as you for over a century so the words of this petty little man didn’t faze you at all.

“I put an injured deer out of its misery actually. You already know, Mr Barton, that I feed off animals. Never a human unless they are a threat.”

“Do you see me as a threat?”

He had stepped up to you so close that, had you been alive, you probably would have felt his breath cruising over your pale skin. It was actually quite amusing that he thought he could try and intimidate you but you made sure you didn’t let this show on your face…the man was angry enough as it was.

“Far from it. I see you as a man who refuses to have an open mind about the things that are right in front of him. You accepted aliens pouring through the sky, Gods that were once believed to simply be myths appear in person, and yet when it comes to someone such as myself you have one opinion and that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah well I have seen and read enough t-“

“Movies and books aren’t exactly known to offer factual information on my kind.”

He was about to say something else, no doubt a snarky remark, but he was cut short when his young daughter came running out of the front door and careered towards you.

“[y/n!]” She only reached your waist height wise so you found yourself having to bend at your knees ever so slightly to return the embrace she threw around you. “I was beginning to worry that you weren’t coming.”

Despite the fact that you were over 100 years old your appearance was that of someone who was no more than 18 , a trait of which had proved to come in useful when communicating with others. Especially when it came to young children. Clint’s son and daughter saw you as more of an older sister than anything else which mean you earned their trust pretty quickly.

Something of which you were still yet to achieve with Clint himself.

“Oh sweetheart you must believe me when I say that I will always be here for you and your brother. You two mean more to me than you could ever know.”

The young girl smiled up at you with the sweetest smile you had ever seen on another living being before and immediately you swooped her up into your arms fully so that her feet were off the ground.

“Look at me daddy! I’m flying like your friend Thor!”

The serious archer let a laugh escape his lips as he watched the smile growing ever larger on his daughter’s face. The only other person that managed to get such a reaction out of her (besides him and his wife Laura of course) was Natasha. His mind was beginning to reveal to him that he may have judged the being before him far too quickly but before a single word could leave his lips he noticed your eyes widen ever so slightly before your whole body tensed.

“Lila run inside to Cooper and your mother. Me and your father will be in shortly okay? I’ll have a special surprise waiting for you.”

“I love you [y/n]!” The young girl jumped up and down excitedly as you gently placed a hand onto her soft cheek.

“I love you too my precious Lila now run along.”

She did as she was told and as soon as the front door clicked shut your eyes turned into two black holes as your fangs made an appearance. The veins around your eyes protruded slightly as a rather nasty growl escaped your lips.

“There’s five of those murderous HYDRA agents currently surrounding your home. From what I can hear they have no idea either one of us is here.”

To say he was shocked at seeing the transformation with his very eyes was quite the understatement; in fact this was probably the first time in his life that the archer was actually genuinely terrified. A part of him was convinced that it was you he should have been shooting an arrow at right now…..no one else.

Without another word you disappeared from his view and then before he even had time to blink you reappeared before him with two of the agents, both being gripped by the neck with each of your hands, you took one look at Clint before opening your mouth and slamming your fangs down into one of the agents, making swift work of him, before then repeating your actions with the second.

Both bodies fell to the floor in front of you in lifeless heaps and you didn’t even bother to wipe the blood from your lips to make him feel more at ease.

Then a foreign sound hit your ears, one that Clint himself or any other human for that matter wouldn’t have heard, and it was that of something small yet sharp heading towards the man whose family you were trying to protect. It came just millimetres away from puncturing the skin of his neck when your thumb and forefinger stopped it in its tracks.

Clint barely had any time to register what had just happened when he saw an agent heading straight for your back with a large knife, pushing you away he swiftly pulled out both his bow and one of his arrows and within seconds the threatening male had been pierced straight through the heart.

That’s when the two of you finally met gazes and for the first time you had a mutual understanding. To do what was needed to be done.

“Kill the other two [y/n].”

Almost as though you had been waiting for his permission the whole time you ran off at super human speed and ravaged the throats of the two men that were left until their kicking and screaming stopped and their bodies slumped to the ground.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was all over. All the HYDRA agents had been taken down, the family were safe, and when you could finally retreat from your predatory form you took in a large gasp of air as the whole fight finally caught up with you. Your thought process never worked all that logically when you were in your vampire form because the only thing that mattered was taking down whatever threat was nearby, so when that side of you was no longer needed that was when you felt the pain of what you had just done.

“[y/n]?”

It was Clint. You knew from the calm beating of his heart that he had already checked on his loved ones. You were sat on the back porch, eyes casting themselves over the final two agents you had taken out, you knew it had needed to be done but at the same time you wondered who it was they had left behind. A wife? Children? Siblings? It was a vicious thought cycle you found yourself in each and every time you took a human life and you hated it…..it came very close to making you lose your mind completely….but when a gentle hand came down to rest on your shoulder you were pulled out of it.

No longer were your thoughts about the men you had just killed but about the one who had hated you so much for being here. Now when you looked into his eyes you saw what you knew to be gratitude. He may not have been able to fully accept you for what you were but tonight had shown him that not only would you do anything to protect his family but that, by the look in your eyes as you looked over your victims, you weren’t a cold-blooded killer….

….You had just as much emotion as he and the other Avengers did when they had to eliminate someone.

He had finally come to realise that you really were the right one to look after his family while he was gone.

Permanent tag list:@fallenfairy16@brieflybigwonderland@frolicsomefawkes @psychicwitchphilosopher @elwenia @imsecretlyromanburki @elaacreditava @marvel-fanfiction@wantingtobekorra @fandom-rpblog @just-call-me-your-darling @deanwinnchesterisbae @gayvvarden @marshmellowgems11@justreadingfics @cinema212 @cassandras-musings

Request tag: @skeletoresinthebasement

(still room on this list so if you would like to be added just let me know.)

377 notes · View notes

sincerelybluevase · 8 years ago

Text

So I’ve had some more time to think about the entire incident that happened last Thursday. I’ve decided to put my thoughts down. It is kind of long, so I’ll place it under a cut. These are my thoughts about it. I’ve tried to order them a bit, but I’m afraid they won’t read like a streamlined college essay. Feel free to skip if you are sick of this entire debate.

From a psychological POV, these were an interesting few days. I took time to observe myself, and to entangle the mix of thoughts and emotions I experienced regarding that anonymous ask that pointed out that there were similarities between my fanfics and others. We’re all works in progress, and a bit of time to contemplate what we feel and why is always good.

First off, I’d like to make a bit of a disclaimer. I know a lot of people don’t agree with anon, and have told me so. I really appreciate the kind comments, guys, but I do feel the need to address this issue in a bit more depth, also because I can leave it behind me once I’ve done so. I do not feel like some kind of victim. The anon ask hurt my feelings (which I’ll talk about later), but it’s not as if I’m wallowing in self-pity here. I’m not like those Roman women of old, lying on the floor screaming “Eheu! Me miseram!” whilst beating my breast and tearing out my hair and raking my nails over my face. I do not intend to let this incident put me off writing. Instead, I’d like to turn this entire thing into a lesson to be learned from. What exactly I’ve learned from all of this, I’ll also discuss into more detail later on. I also don’t think that this anon was some kind of troll. In fact, I think they have a bit of a point, though the way they went about bringing it to my attention was, at best, clumsy and thoughtless.

Well, anyway, back to the case. The first thing I felt whilst reading this anon’s ask was shock. I don’t receive a lot of asks, so when I saw I had one that morning, I was pretty excited. I expected it to be an ask on one of those ask posts, or maybe a request for a fic. It was a nasty surprise to read it. I immediately felt ashamed, and guilty, and sad. I don’t want to copy other people’s fics, and the idea that I’d done so without intending to do so was not a nice one. I think you can see this in my answer; it is pretty penitent, and I try to explain why I think it happened, just to show that there was no malicious intent.

I also deleted my Bold Girl (Sometimes) fanfic from ff.net and AO3, because I felt that those works were probably most ‘affected’ by this issue, and I didn’t want people to read them if they were too influenced by other writers. Now, in hindsight, I regret deleting them (they’re still on Tumblr, though). It was a too hasty decision; firstly, because it may have implied that I felt there was a lot of truth to these accusations (which, again in hindsight, I don’t think is the case, though I’m not saying that there’s absolutely no truth to what this anon was trying to point out) and secondly because I was actually pretty proud of those fics (they were my first foray into smut territory, and I think I did get the characterization right+ made some good points about the Turnadette relationship).

Anyway, that ask gave me a shitty day and a shitty night. It made me question my talent as a writer, and my integrity. I’m not a person with a lot of self-confidence, but I did think that my writing was good, or at least had potential. I had started writing fanfic to make sure I actually wrote at all (which, due to crippling self-doubt, was something I had literally not done in years). To be told that it was hardly original was less than ideal. It made me want to stop writing for a day or so, truth be told. This incident also made me realise that I had been rather naïve. When we put art online, whether it is music, or a drawing, or a piece of writing, we inevitably put a little bit of ourselves on display, perhaps without meaning to. Therefore, when those pieces get criticized, it may feel personal. I always need a little time to put emotions to the background when someone criticizes my work, because I have to realise these people are not criticizing me as a person, and probably not even my talent as a writer; they’re simply pointing out flaws in a piece of my work.

It is not as if I had expected to only get positive reviews on my work, but I did not think much about the alternative, either. I’ve never shared my writing with others before, and if I’d put it on the internet, it would only get two notes or something. I was not used to negative reviews, because I was not used to reviews at all. Since I am pretty sensitive, I think I could have done a better job of preparing myself for comments I might not like. After the hurt and shame came anger. I was not angry for someone bringing this issue of similarity to my attention, but I was angry about the way it was done. This ask was sent anonymous, meaning the only way I could respond was by answering it, thus placing it directly on my dashboard. I’d rather this had remained a private thing, but since I don’t even know who this person was, I could only hope they’d see my answer if I placed it on my dashboard. And I do think this was an issue I had to address, especially because it was something I hadn’t realised was happening, and I didn’t want anyone to think otherwise. This did make it an open point for discussion, though. I also feel that the language anon used to get the point across wasn’t very… well, nice. I know the space in an ask is limited, but I’d rather this person had sent me two and taken a bit more care with their wording than this. It is also true that there is no intonation, this being a written message and all. This means that my only clues of interpreting how this person meant it is by looking at their words and what they imply. Now, it is entirely possible I’m reading too much into this, but here we go.

· I think it is somewhat ironic that anon tells me that I’ve been displaying bad fandom manners, when this ask does not show great fandom manners, either (plus it makes me suspicious of everyone and that is hardly nice, because I don’t want to distrust people and I don’t think that is what this anon meant to cause at all).

· Aside from that: by saying ‘Did you ask if you could use their stuff?’ they are implying that the similarities are conscious. They weren’t (assuming they were isn’t very gracious, either, but that’s another matter).

· Now we get to the thing that really bothered me. By saying they are ‘really really similar’ and ending by ‘look forward to more fic from you that’s really your own and not copied from other writers’ anon is not even implying, but directly stating that my fics were not original. I don’t think that is true, and I don’t think that I deserve that.

So, what do I think about the point anon did try to get across?

I started rereading my own fics plus those of the writers mentioned almost feverishly to discover similarities (because gabolange and pellucid did tell me they had noticed little things, and I don’t want that. I want to be an original writer), and I do kind of see where anon is coming from.

· As for scenes: no, I don’t really see that. Fanfic writers have a limited amount of canon they can work with. CtM fanfics often try to fill in the blanks between scenes. The ride to the adoption agency, for example, has been done by many writers. I did some of those ‘common’ scenes, too, and I don’t feel that they are inherently copied. Fanfic is also rife with tropes, as is every art form. I think tropes are a kind of common playground. Say we take the idea that Shelagh and Patrick go on a picnic. That is a trope. It is not wrong for me to use that if, say, kienova already did so. Say she wrote one where Shelagh and Patrick brought wine and strawberries and chocolate with them, and are frolicking in some lonely field, and it ends in steamy sex where Shelagh is covered in chocolate and lets Patrick lick it off. Another writer may write one where Shelagh and Patrick plan a picnic, but the bottle of lemonade breaks and ruins their sandwiches. Then, the car breaks down, and it starts to rain, and in the end they decide to have a picnic in their own living room instead, thus giving the fic a happy ending. Both use the same trope, but their execution is very different. If Kienova wrote the first and inspired me to write the second, would that be copying? I don’t think so. Now, if I read Kienova’s fic and then wrote one where Patrick and Shelagh go and picnic on a hill and decide to have steamy sex involving Shelagh being smothered in whipped cream, that is already a lot more similar, and a whole lot more dubious. In fact, I think anon would have a fair point if they told me it was really really similar, and that I should have asked the author’s permission. But this is also why this ask bothered me so much: I DO feel that I’ve written ‘original’ things, in as far as anything can be called original. My chapter 9 of Lips Touch gave an original twist on the prompt that ‘Doctor T’s car breaks down and Sister B is very upset about it’, I’d say. I think the steamy phone conversation had not been done before, nor was the panic attack trope (credit where credit is due: these were prompts people gave me. I did not come up with the prompts myself, but the way I decided to execute those prompts in my stories was my own), and those are just two examples. I honestly think that some of the fics that are more similar to ones written by the authors mentioned still have original content to them, too.

· As for the language: here, I can see what anon means. I have used certain phrases and images that these other writers also used. Now, here it gets a bit tricky for several reasons. First off: English is my second language. I’m not always aware of an expression not being ‘common ground’. That is not an excuse, but it is a reason for some of the similarities that were not simply two people using a common expression. Second off: I think writers are a bit like magpies; we see something we like, and we take it with us for later use. I don’t always remember where that pretty line came from, or that unusual verb in combination with that noun. Hell, I often don’t even know if it is something I came up with myself, or something I once read. I do know, for example, that Kienova often talks about ‘breath ghosting’. I found that such a great image that I’ve since ‘adopted’ it. I’m using it in my original work a lot too, but you guys don’t get to read that. Is it then wrong for me to also use it in my Turnadette fanfics? I honestly don’t have an answer to that question.

Part of the problem for me is that I read. A LOT. I’ve read 200+ books last year, just to give you an idea. When you read so much, it becomes really hard to keep track of where you got those pretty sentences from (if you even got them from somewhere else, because it is also possible that you came up with something yourself). Thirdly: I think it is a bit hard to say when language becomes copied. Is there such a thing as copyright on language? Obviously you are not supposed to copy entire paragraphs, but what happens if it is only part of a sentence? I think that is a very difficult topic, and a blurry line to draw.

Well, what did I learn from all of this?

· I’m not going to stop writing, guys. I’ve had far too much fun with fanfic, and I still think it is a great way of developing yourself. As you guys might have seen, I’ve also participated in the 5 sentence challenge, and that was great fun.

· I was mainly hurt by the ask because, the way I read it, it did imply that I consciously copied (and that, in turn, seems to apply malicious intent, or a lack of being able to write). That is not the case. There are many reasons for why this ‘copying’ happened (because anon is not just bulshitting). I just wrote too fast and too much in my enthusiasm.

· That being said: I do still feel bad about those similarities. Not to sound arrogant, but I think I’m a good enough writer to be able to write good fics without those. So, I’ll do my best to make sure it won’t happen again. This is going to be hard (because I didn’t know it was happening, for one), but I will try my best.If people have possible ideas on how to achieve this, please let me know.

· I have a very good memory for things I’ve read, apparently. This means I have to take extra care when revising my work to make sure I either generalise things a bit more or use imagery that is my own (as far as I know), thus erasing the influence of other writers.

· Slow down. It is alright to take a long time to write a fic.

· I don’t have to accept every prompt I get. I know that sounds silly, but I’m a pleaser. I loved getting asks, because it showed me that people enjoyed what I’d written so much that they were actually interested in seeing how I handled a certain idea. However, if one person has just written a fic with that same prompt, it may be best to either turn that prompt down, or wait a good while before using it to make sure there are no lingering influences from that other piece of work.

· Also, I think it is a good idea to link to other people’s fics. Say I actually wrote the one about the picnic after reading a fic by Kienova, it is only fair to say where I got my inspiration from. It is also good for the reader, because I’m giving them the link to a piece of writing they might also enjoy and may not have read yet. It’s not as if I’ve never done this before, but promoting other people’s work more is always a great idea.

I do not intend to stop writing. In fact, I think I’ll be back with a new piece fairly soon (after letting it breathe for long enough, of course).

I also don’t want people to feel as if they cannot offer criticism on my work. The only way I can grow as a writer is by getting criticism. However, and I don’t think I am asking something unreasonable here, I would like that criticism to be constructive. Is there a spelling or grammar error? Tell me! Am I using imagery that is plain unfortunate, and of which I’m probably not aware? Tell me! Or is that image something other writers have used before? Tell me; I’m not against people pointing out similarities to me, I’m really not. Do you think this is not the way this character would respond? Again, tell me; we might get into a very interesting and satisfying discussion. So, don’t hesitate to offer valid criticism, but please don’t do it like this anon did.

#personal #again feel free to skip because it is pretty long and probably a bit boring

2 notes · View notes

secondstartotheright-imagines · 8 years ago

Text

Some Stories Can Be Rewritten

Request: From Anon - Hi! So I know you only briefly mentioned the possibility of writing for other characters from OUAT but I was wondering, if you did decide to go down that route, could you do a David x Reader where he was always a Prince (no brother) but ran away to Neverland when he realised he never wanted the responsibility of being King? They became really close on the island but then they were ripped apart. They reunite years later only for her to find that he is now with Snow. Lots of feeeeeeeels too! :D

Note: I know I wrote far too much angst in this but wanted to give it a really good go. Hope I did your request some justice anon! :)

David Nolan x Reader

Words: 1649

Warnings: Angst! - That’s it!

Disclaimer: First and last GIFs aren’t mine (all credit goes to the creators.) Second one is mine.

You had no idea how long you had been on Neverland for but you had never really had the reason to sit there and try to work it out. You had so much fun on this island, even if your initial appearance here on the island hadn’t gone down very well to start off with, but eventually the Lost Boys, and Pan, accepted you and you fell into daily life here easily. You got along with all of the boys but there was one in particular you had developed a close relationship with......David. He hadn’t been on the island himself for very long before you had arrived which gave the two of you some common ground to get talking. Talking which quite often went on well into the night. As the other Lost Boys slept soundly in their tents you and David would sneak off to your favourite part of the island.....an open field which had the most perfect view of the stars shining in the night sky. It wasn’t the most amazing place but it was the best that Neverland had to offer and, most of all, it belonged to the two of you. None of the other boys had any reason to go there so you were always alone with one another. Usually you would both simply lay down on the ground, eyes cast up to the stars, and talk about anything and everything that came to your minds. But one night he had decided that the stars weren’t good enough to look at and instead he let his gaze fall upon you. It was only when he hadn’t spoken to you that you realised he was doing it. Immediately you laughed but it wasn’t one of amusement....it was more nervous than anything else. “Oh my god do I have something on my face? I was sparring with Slightly earlier and my face kinda made friends with the floor a few times.”

Your hand reached up to your cheek as you spoke as you frantically began to wipe away any remnants of dried dirt that may have been decorating it. Your hand was soon joined by his though as he gently removed it from your face before intertwining his fingers with yours as his gaze turned a little more serious. “There is nothing on your face [y/n]. I’ve just never really taken the time to admire you before.” Your face dropped at that moment, your heart skipping a beat as it did, and for once.....for once in all the time you had known him you were completely speechless. Something which seemed to amuse him a little as he propped himself up onto his elbows and moved a little closer to you. It felt like a big brass band was playing inside of your chest as your heart rate reached the fastest it had ever been. “You’re the only one I have cared about spending time with here. The boys are fun, yes, but you.....I can talk to you.” You couldn’t say anything, there was far too many emotions running through you that you had never felt before, it was a situation you never thought you would find yourself in and although you knew you felt incredibly happy there was also a part of you that was terrified. This was Pan’s island, not yours, and he wouldn’t be happy with what was happening here at all. “David I-“ “What the HELL is going on here?!” The loud boom of a voice shattered the silence that had begun to envelop the two of you and your eyes widened in sheer shock as you quickly pushed yourself up onto your feet. “Pan wai-“ Your voice was abruptly silenced by a simple wave of the boy’s hand. The King of Neverland, your leader, had caught the two of you together and although he may have looked like no more than a boy he was anything but. He was a demon and he HATED it when things weren’t going his way. His usual sharp green eyes were enveloped in a darkness that made them look like two black holes and there was a scowl tugging at his lips that made him look almost like a predator about to jump on its prey. “I don’t want to hear petty excuses. All this time I have been waiting for the two of you to come to your senses, to realise that this kind of thing is not welcome on my island, you have not.....so now I need to make sure you are both taught a lesson. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You sat yourself on the cliff edge that overlooked Skull Rock, your eyes drifting over the vast sea that surrounded the island, and although it had been a long time since that fateful day you could still feel the sting of your broken heart. Time on Neverland had never gone so slow before and you no longer enjoyed being here….not now that it was a punishment set by Pan. He had sent away the one and only person you had cared about and now, even surrounded by the other boys, you felt alone. His last six words played out in your head over and over again as though they were on an endless loop, there to torture you even more, and before you could even stop it from happening tears began to leave your eyes and roll down both of your cheeks.

“I will always find you [y/n]”

That was when Pan had ordered the shadow to tear his hand away from yours and send him back to the Enchanted Forest.

You’ve hated him ever since and have been trying everything you possibly can to get yourself off this island. You haven’t believed in Pan in a long time, thinking that would be the east way off, but it hadn’t worked. He knew exactly what you were trying to do.

Which is why you went for the last resort, struck a deal with the pirates the last time they had come to the island, and when you see the familiar shape of the Jolly Roger appearing in the horizon you wipe the tears away from your eyes and stand yourself up.

This is it…..this is your way back home….to David. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Your new surroundings started to unlock memories you had once pushed deep into the back of your mind and after just a few short minutes you are able to remember where exactly in the realm you were. The castle was just a half day’s walk away from here and despite the reluctance you knew he’d had about following the path he had been born on you know he will be there.

Your heart begins to race at the prospect of seeing him again, just as it had done all that time ago in your special place, and your pace quickened even though you were desperate for some sleep.

Would he be excited to see you?

He will have grown in the time you have been apart but you hope that it hasn’t been by much.

Would he even recognise you?

There’s so many questions running through your mind that you almost miss the sound of two voices a few feet away from where you are stood. From what you can tell it is a man and a woman speaking to one another – they are trying to be quiet but from your years on Neverland your hearing has heightened immensely. You needed to know when one of the boys, or Pan, was lurking after all.

You hide yourself behind a tree and peek your head around the thick trunk until your eyes fall upon two figures. The male was instantly recognisable. He has aged since you last saw him but the smile that was currently lighting up his face was one you had fallen so in love with over all those years. That oh so charming smile that set off the butterflies in your stomach each and every time.

He looks so regal in the attire he is wearing and you can’t help but admire him for putting aside his reluctance so he could-wait…..the woman with him…..

You watch as he reaches out a gloved hand and places it on the dark haired woman’s cheek, their eyes meeting with one another’s as yours had done before Pan broke you up.

“I will always find you Snow….”

They were yours. Those words. They were the ones he had spoken so truthfully to you and yet now he was speaking them to another in your place. When he had been taken away from Neverland you never thought your heart could hurt any more. You were wrong. This was the worst pain imaginable. Your already broken heart is completely shattered and beyond repair as you pull your gaze away from him and begin to walk away.

David looked up at the moment, unaware that anyone had been watching him and Snow, and he saw you walking away. For a moment or two he has the urge to run after you, take you into his arms as he had dreamed of doing for so long.

“[y/n]….”

But he fights it.

Instead he watches you until you disappear from view. A loving smile tugging away at his lips as a single tear collects in the corner of his eye.

Two broken hearts. One broken promise….but a whole new story just waiting to be told.

142 notes · View notes