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eyesxxyou · 2 years ago

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that's what they all say pt.2

↳ ❝ [dbf!miguel o'hara x black!reader] ¡! ❞

rating. m

word count. 4.1k

synopsis. you told yourself you were done with miguel after the way he left things week before. you were moving on, got yourself a new boyfriend and everything. that is, until you have to attend a gala with your father.

you and miguel have sex in the bathroom

warnings. p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay responsible), slapping, spitting, reader on top, miguel's a little bit of a simp, reader is mean :(, exhibitionalism (bathroom sex)

part one

You haven’t seen Miguel in weeks and you didn’t want to either. Not after that night in your father’s house. Not after he turned you down flat right after you had let him into your body. Men, what are you gonna do about them? They take and take and take and never give anything in return. They expect you to give them everything; they want you to give all of you until you're dry and hollow, a husk of the person you once were.

You never let yourself consider that he has any bearing on the reason why you decided to haphazardly get into a relationship with the colleague from work that’s been pining over you for months now. You told yourself you were tired of being single—which, admittedly, isn’t a good reason to get in a relationship on its own. You weren’t all that attracted to him. He was fine on paper; nice, romantic, devoted, pretty decent-looking. But he was absolutely nothing compared to Miguel. A twig, really.

It’s not like you wanted to hurt the guy. You were just tired of moping around, thinking about a man who made it more than clear that he didn’t want to be with you. But you knew he was nothing you'd take seriously, not in the position you're in right now.

Yet, you introduce him to your dad as if any of this is going to go anywhere besides a messy break up in a few short months with you talking about, “it’s not you, it’s me” which would be 100% true in this case.

“I like him.” Your father says like that will sway you in any kind of way. “He seems like a good guy with good intentions.” You think about what your father might say if you told him right now that you didn’t care about whatever his name is and were only thinking about Miguel. Would it be shock or anger if you told him his best friend had your up against the family pictures, that grandma Margret’s urn was pushed off of the table to make room. Maybe both. Who would he be more upset with, you or Miguel?

Maybe your dad didn’t give your enough attention as a child, too wrapped up in his career to raise his daughter right. Now you want to fuck older men to get the attention you never before received. Coming home late, leaving to work early. That’s why your mom left, she couldn’t take it. You hardly saw him at all on the days he did have you.

“Is Nathaniel coming with you to this year’s gala?” Your father offhandedly mentioned to you. You didn’t care that he got your boyfriend’s name wrong (it was just Nathan), you were more focused on the gala he was talking about. Alchemax threw one every year and every year since your father has been working there, you’ve attended. Miguel would undoubtedly be there this year which meant you couldn’t be. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dad. I don’t think I’m even going this year.” You brush him off, fiddling with the ends of your hair.

He glances at you. “What do you mean? That’s nonsense, you come every year.” You hated that he always had to ask questions. You hated that he always asked questions at the worst times and never asked any when you needed his attention most.

"I don't want to go."

"You have to, sweetheart. I'm giving a big speech tonight and I want you to be there for me." He looked at you, pleading for you to cave like you always do. You always do. You sigh and grumble to yourself and go through your motions, but ultimately you agree because you love your father. The gala was always a big event. If you kept your eyes out, Miguel wouldn't be a problem. You could be there to support your father and keep face while avoiding him at all cost.

You always enjoyed the gala. The fancy dresses, the music, the gold and diamond chandeliers glittering. But coming in on Nathan's arm in a dress that matched his tie was probably the worst part of all of this. You despised how Miguel could ruin everything you once held so dear because of his mere presence. Even if you couldn’t see him, the fact that you knew he was here was enough because your eyes constantly sought him out against your own will.

“Y/N! There you are, I was wondering when you’d show up!” Your father was such a loud person, it was impossible not to hear him. But that’s why everyone liked him. He was smart, outgoing, and naturally magnetic. No one knows what it’s like to grow up on the other side of that though. So smart he thought he knew everything and often belittled your opinions, so loud that a step out of line meant a good tongue lashing, and magnetic that you're charmed by him despite the way he neglected you, you still loved him unconditionally.

He gave Nathan a firm slap on the back and kissed your cheek. “Come on, we got our table up front this year. Miguel’s going to be joining us. He’s around here somewhere but I haven’t found him yet. And none with your banter with him tonight, I don’t want a headache before I go up on stage.”

So much for avoiding him.

You swallow with so much anxiety it almost makes you choke. You keep looking around for him because you feel that if you spot him before he spots you then you’ll have more power over the situation, over him. You know it’s an illusion. The illusion of power, of control, of sanity. And it all comes crashing down as soon as you do pick him out of the crowd. It’s not hard. He’s such a hard person to miss with a stature and a face like his.

He was standing in a group of colleagues, standing with one hand in the pocket of his slacks and the other holding a champagne flute to his lips as he sipped. He looked unbearably sexy in that tuxedo of his, the lapel of his jacket folded crisply, not a single wrinkle in sight, his bowtie perched perfectly against his Adam’s apple, with his brown hair slicked back as much as it would allow. The worst part was that he was already staring at you, seeming to have long found you before you found him. And so much for the illusion of power.

It would be so much easier to hate him if he weren’t so beautiful, wouldn’t it? Looking at him made it so easy to forget how he left you in tears after using your body for his own selfish needs. Maybe it was a bit childish and naive of you to think he’d suddenly fall head over heels for you after fucking you in your father’s living room. You should have known he wouldn’t stay but a small part of you thought, maybe if you let him into your body…

You glare at him. Make it clear that you hold no soft feelings for him. “Let’s go sit down, Nathan.” You drag your temporary boyfriend to your assigned table.

People kept approaching the table to talk to your father, congratulating him over his second award in just two months. You kept yourself busy with Nathan, occasionally glancing about for Miguel to keep an eye on him but he moved around so often you couldn't keep up.

"Mi amigo!" Your father, as loud as he was, made his position clear. He always had to try out his cringe-worthy Spanish around his friend. Miguel was approaching the table, not looking at you but at Nathan sitting beside you. "Where's Gabriella? I thought you said you were bringing her."

"She wasn't feeling well and wanted to stay home. Who is that?" He breezed past the topic of his daughter and onto the topic of Nathan, the stranger you came in with hand in hand. His lips held a firmness to them that wasn't so uncommon to his face, he even had a wrinkle because he did it so much.

You see Nathan visibly grow taut beside you, his gaze nervously shifting about to avoid that of the man who made him so insufficient in every way. "What's it to you?" Your lip curled at him in distaste.

"Y/N." Your father's tone is pressing, warning you to cut it out. "This is Nathan, Y/N's new boyfriend. Good man." He gives Nathan another pat on the shoulder to show that they're on good terms. Miguel glances at you as the scowl on your lips press in harder. He looks as if to ask if this is the best you can do, or rather that he's below you. He simply hums and turns himself away.

How dare he? Who does he think he is? Turning his back on you like you were the one who told him he was just some immature child you'd never take seriously. You don't think you can stand being near him any longer.

"I'm gonna go get some champagne." You stand abruptly from your chair. You just need some air and a copious amount of alcohol. Your dress suddenly feels so constricting, a bit of sweat is beginning to gather on your hairline. Why are your hands so clammy and why do you suddenly feel so lightheaded?

You find yourself to the nearest server carrying a tray of champagne and begin to down as many glasses as you can get your hands on. It draws the attention of those around you, a few judging glances here and there. You couldn't imagine what you looked like, a messy drunk just like your father probably. God, you can't believe you're actually acting like your father now.

"Mía carina, stop." A large, warm hand comes to grab your wrist before you can grab your fourth flute. You hardly even register who it is grabbing you before you yank your arm from his hold. "Leave me alone, Miguel." You murmur, taking the last glass off the tray to bring it to your lips.

Miguel grabs you by the waist, muttering soft apologies for your actions to those around you as he begins to guide you towards the bathrooms. "Stop, you're going to embarrass yourself." He hissed at you, taking the glass out of your hand and placing it down on the tray of a passing server. He was so swift and agile for someone so large, getting you into the men's restrooms in record time.

You push yourself away from him the moment the two of you are in the closed space. "Have you ever thought I'm already embarrassed?" You couldn't stand being so close to him, smelling him the way you did when you were falling all over him, your fingers in his hair while you kissed, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth before his dick did the same and more. "You embarrassed me, Miguel. You realize that? You humiliated me."

“I let you touch me. I let you into my body. I let you…have me.” Why was it so hard to breathe? Why were you letting tears slip? Why were you giving him such satisfaction? But seeing you like this gave him no joy at all. It hurt him to see you hurt, breaking down because of something that never should have started in the first place.

Miguel couldn't bear to look you in the eyes, biting his lips because he knew that the way he did things was wrong and that he hurt you. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to. He was just trying to do the best thing for you, to not be selfish for once. Because all he's ever done his entire life was be some selfish bastard ruining people's lives and being irresponsible. Now he has a daughter because of his irresponsibility, a daughter without a mother because he couldn't save her, and you, his best friend's daughter.

He tried to reach out, tried to hold you, to comfort you, let you know that the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. “Mi corazón, I-” You pushed him away, beat against his chest, did everything in your power to remove him from your vicinity. “Get away from me.” He let you hit, punch, claw, scratch because he knew he deserved it.

You tore yourself away from him, angry and disgusted with him and yourself.

“Well, you got a boyfriend pretty quick so you couldn’t have been that broken up about it.” He’s bitter about Nathan. Seeing you all cozied up on his arm as you walked in. It stirred something in Miguel, sharp jealousy tasting like blood in his mouth. He hated it, despised the idea of you being with someone else, letting someone else fuck you.

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “So what is it? Do you want me to be with someone my own age or do you want me?” Because at this point, all you wanted was to be wanted. “Choose one and stick with it because I’m not gonna to sit here and be at your fucking whim. You want me one second and then the other I’m too young and you’re too old and it won’t work out.”

You walk closer, pushing at Miguel’s chest. “I’m not your doll. I’m not.” You punctuate each word with a jab to his chest. “Your.” Jab. “Fucking.” Jab. “Toy.” You look at his lips, then his eyes, and back to his lips. “I hate you.” And you kissed him because what the hell? Why not act upon your most basic desires if it will lead to nothing anyway?

Miguel kissed you back, his hand slipping beneath your hair to hold the back of your neck and force you to stay just the way you are. There’s something utterly primal about the way you two kiss. You both know that everything going on here will not last. It’s the fiery hate you have for him and the pleading of him trying to make it up to you. The desire you have for him and his need to keep your life on track.

You bite until you break skin, until you taste his blood on your tongue, metallic and bitter. He keeps kissing you, knowing the wound isn't too bad, a slit in his lip from your teeth angrily biting at him. It was so violent, so angry, so hateful the way you two kissed, the way he tore away the zipper of your expensive dress trying to get it off of you.

It’s funny how you tear at each other's clothes with such desperation while claiming all the while you don’t want each other. You pull off Miguel’s tie, unbutton his shirt and pull the hem out of his pants before undoing his belt buckle. You want to feel his skin against yours, want to scar him, want to make him hurt. You want him to fuck you hard. Not like he means it but like he doesn’t.

He spares your dress for the most part, leaving it in one piece on the floor but he doesn’t offer the same kindness for your panties which he grabs and tears off your body with ease, the useless piece of flimsy lace fabric hanging off your ankle.

“Be quiet for me, can you do that, muñeca?” Miguel slipped his cock from the restraints of his pants, letting the length of it fall against your heat not yet prepared to take him. You scoff at him and slap his cheek not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to let him know you weren’t going to comply. “Fuck you.”

There was something in Miguel’s eyes that seemed to break, something dark and impatient that he had been holding back until now. “Oh– so it’s gonna be like that?” You suddenly realize how much bigger he is than you and how easy it would be for him to have his way with you. He kisses you again, tongue sliding against yours, your mixed saliva coming out from the seams of your interlocked lips.

His large hand is around your throat just like last time as he uses his free hand to slap you back, once, twice, leaving a stinging pain against your cheek. He forces you onto the counter, your legs on either side of his narrow hips as he slaps your pussy too in firm spanks leaving you puffy and aching. “This is my pussy, baby. You know that. Mine.” Miguel can’t imagine anyone else enjoying you, especially not that good for nothing idiot out there. He probably doesn’t even know you’re about to get railed. Sitting there so eagerly waiting for you to return.

“I thought you didn’t want it.”

“Oh, I definitely want it.”

You push him away from you to give yourself more room. "I want to ride you." You want the control this time, not to feel weak, not to be at his mercy to leave you the moment the heat of the moment cools down. He owes you that and he knows he does. That's why he gets up on the counter with little to no complaint and drags you up onto his lap as he leans against the mirror.

It feels odd being taller than him for once, having the upper hand, looking down at him with his kiss-swollen lips and exposed chest. His cock weighed heavy against your pelvis, displaying just how far into you he'd be going, his tip right against your belly button, smearing precum against your naval.

You spit on your hand, use it to spread between your lips. You can tell by the way he looks at you, watches your fingers graze against the length of his shaft, he wants you to touch him, spread your saliva across his sensitive tip and drag it down to the base of his cock. He wants you to have him shivering, shaking with the aftershock of an orgasm with just your hand. You don't give him the satisfaction.

"Put it in." You tell him, command him because he wants this way more than you do. Or at least– that's what you tell yourself. There's a reason why you unbuttoned his shirt, why you placed your hands on his bare chest, your fingers against his chest hairs. You wanted to know the human intimacy of touch, the beauty of it, the comfort.

Miguel maintains eye contact as he glides himself into you. You don't like it and certainly don't want it. You're cold towards him as you press your hips down and take more and more of him into you, buckling down. You don't want slow and intimate, you don't want his eye contact and his pet names.

It's not an easy task trying to take him. Your breathing hitches and your eyes flutter as you settle against his lap, readjusting your position to give yourself leverage. You rolled your hips against his, watching the way his brows furrowed and he tossed his head back, groaning softly. "Fu– fuck. God, mía carina."

Nothing about the way you fucked was loving or even implied a liking beyond a physical desire. Your nails grappled at his skin, using his broad shoulders as leverage as you bounced on his cock while you clawed at his skin all at the same time. But Miguel forced intimacy, held your face to make you look at him and every time you'd rip yourself away he'd grab you harder, forced his hips up to meet yours half way and watch the way you trembled, feel your pussy quiver and clench around his cock.

Sex like this could make Miguel fall in love, make him toss caution to the wind, make him the most selfish bastard in the world and claim the rest of your life for himself. He held you close, tried in every way he could to let you know that he cared deeply for you and that's exactly why the two of you couldn't be together. He cared too much for you, far beyond a friend of the family should. What was he supposed to do? Betray your father's trust? Date someone closer in age to his kid than himself?

But he fell in love with the way your body moved, the way it rolled against his like you were dancing just for him. Your hands were on his neck, then in his hair, tugging sharply at the root so his head craned back. He fell in love with the way you grabbed his jaw and forced him to open his mouth so you could spit in it and slap him again. He fell in love with the way your pussy clung on to him so tight, your creamy wetness slicking your thighs and coating his length. God, you drove him absolutely insane.

He murmured your name, pussy-whipped and dazed with something starting to look like a lot more than lust. "Dios, me estás volviendo loco, mi corazón. Creo que estoy enamorado de ti. ¿Tú lo sabes?" Miguel didn't even know what he was saying anymore, it came out of him like word vomit. He just wanted you. He wanted you so fucking bad.

"Shut up. Stop talking." You don't want to hear his voice, the way he whispered is serenading words in Spanish because you knew if he said anymore you might fall in love with him too. You ride harder, stifling your own moans as you feel him press against such deep, intimate parts of yourself. You can see yourself in the mirror over Miguel's head. Your hair in disarray, a thin layer of glistening sweat coating your skin, and your eyes so hard and cold, teary even.

"Just let me touch you, muñeca. Please." He's whiny, stupid, and pathetic just for you because the way you're creaming on his dick is starting to make him feel like the idea of having a second child was such an insane one. Miguel spat in his hand, used it to play with your swollen clit. He ran circles around your rosebud the same way he ran circles around your mind. Messy and fast in an attempt to get you to cum for him.

Your orgasm threatens to tear you apart, to shred your world to pieces then glue them back together haphazardly. It rocks you and your whole body. You ride harder than before, the harsh slapping of your skin meating his, desperate to reach that high knowing it would lead to you crashing to a whole new low.

“I hate you, Miguel.” You tell him, your breathing halting and your voice cracking. “I hate you for everything you did to me. I hate you for how you used me.” You kissed him hard and breathlessly, pressing your body against him as your orgasm rippled through your body. "I hate you for how you ruined me. You ruined me, Miguel."

Ruined was such a strong word but you got home and you cried, you screamed, you wept. It felt like being ruined. It was so humiliating.

You hated him right now because if you didn't you knew you would love him.

"Y/N-" You didn't let him finish, refused to let him finish in all ways possible because the moment your climax came to its shivering end, you got up and you got off of him. He was so close too and you just up and left him high and dry, you were already snatching up your dress from the floor to put back on.

"Get yourself together, you look ridiculous." You tell him, fiddling with your broken off zipper to try to get it back up your back. Miguel pushed the few strands of hair he had sticking to his forehead. "What the fuck are you on? Where are you going?"

"Back to my boyfriend, where else?"

Miguel was starting to get whiplash. He got off of the counter and tucked himself away just enough to make himself decent. "Y/N please, let's talk about this. You and I both know you don't want him." That much was true but you'd never admit it to him. You're not going to let him embarrass you like that ever again.

You snap at him. "And what? I'm supposed to want you?" You think you should throw your shoe at his head, strangle him, kiss him as well. "I'm doing just what you wanted, Miguel. I'm finding someone my own age, someone my dad approves of. You made your choice so fucking stick with it."

"But I-" but you were already gone with the swinging of the bathroom door as your only marker that you were ever there.

"-love you."

Fuck.

tags: @ihateuguys @valentinewritten

#i know you guys were waiting for this one #i slaved away on this #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099

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terriwriting · 11 months ago

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Hi. My name is Terry and I went into debt during the pandemic lockdowns. Some of it was because I had to break a lease to escape a building the landlords were turning into a slum (elevator was broken for nearly a year, roaches overran the place, next door neighbour was throwing coke parties all night). For a while things were okay, but then the rising cost of living and rising interest rates made that debt unsustainable. Now I'm lurching from one crisis to the next and I need to get out from under this debtload before it crushes me. Everything donated to this fundraiser will go directly to paying down that debt, because it is the single biggest problem in my life and makes every other problem worse.

I actually owe over $10,000, but I have one Guaranteed Investment Certificate left over from years ago when I was able to save money. That matures in August and I've already made arrangements with my bank to have it applied directly to my debt. The GIC is for just over $7,000, which leaves me with $3,000+ to pay off somehow.

Currently I make just enough to cover bare minimums (rent, utilities, groceries) and if I can get extra shifts I can keep up on interest payments. But if I can't get those extra shifts or if I miss a shift I fall further behind. And sometimes I get enough to pay the interest, but I get it too late in the month to pay by the due date and still end up being charged a late fee. For a while I was making headway on the debt, then the cost of living went up and I was just breaking even. Then both the cost of living and interest rates went up and now I'm barely hanging on by my fingernails.

I have tried to make up the difference by cutting back. I've reduced my phone and internet services to the lowest levels available, and I try to keep my power usage to a minimum. Water is included in my rent but the area I live in is in drought conditions and water bills are going up. Property taxes are also going up in the region. My rent will probably go up at the end of my lease, whether I stay in this place or try to find a new one. Every apartment in this city is too expensive now, and my landlords have actually been comparatively reasonable in raising rent.

The cost of living has gone up too fast for me to keep up with, and I can't make my interest payments or reduce this debt on my own. Every small setback becomes a crisis, and I've made two posts here to cover things like vet bills and end of month bills. If I can reduce my interest payments immediately and reduce my debt over the next few months, I can get out of this spiral. If I can't, I'm going to keep tripping from one crisis to the next until I fall completely.

It's not all bad news. I have a couple of ongoing writing projects that might actually earn some money. My cats are healthy (thanks to everyone who donated to my previous fundraiser). And I have an apartment that is close enough to shopping and work that I don't need a car. I'd be doing alright if not for this debt. So: Everything donated to this fundraiser will go directly to paying down that debt, because it is the single biggest problem in my life and makes every other problem worse.

Thank you for reading this.

$100/$3100. Thank you!

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justaparsec94 · 1 month ago

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Arrival

Summary: When Echo and his crew rush off on a rescue mission you're left behind to wait, hoping to be reunited with the one person in the galaxy that you want to see most.

Pairing: Howzer x Reader

Word Count: 4,812

Author's Note: Inspired by those airport arrival videos and the haircut that Howzer was somehow able to maintain during his time in prison.

****************

You shifted nervously from one foot to the other as you stood on the landing platform, heart racing in your chest. There was a cold, nervous sweat running down your back but at least you had finally stopped pacing. But that was only because you’d realized that you might have been drawing unwanted attention with the pacing, not because you’d felt any less settled. Every few moments you looked up, trying to spot any signs of the familiar ship as your stomach rolled with anxiety. You weren’t sure if you were going to throw up or pass out, but currently, neither option was out of the question.

They’d been gone for what felt like ages and with each passing moment, despite knowing that these things took time, your anxiety only got worse. Every single horrible ‘what-if’ scenario that had kept you up the night before was now running through your head with nothing to do but wait.

You took a deep breath, trying to distract your mind by counting back from 100 under your breath as you kept your eyes peeled, looking for any sign of The Remora. If everything had gone according to plan, they should be returning any moment. Hopefully, with the one person you wanted to see most in the galaxy on board.

You’d met Howzer during the war on Ryloth. There had been an instant connection between the two of you but during the war and even after it had ended the two of you had really only ever had a handful of stolen moments together. It hadn’t taken you long though to realize that he was unlike any man you’d ever met before. What you felt for him was different than anything you’d ever felt. He was kind, brave, and loyal to a fault. When you were with him you felt so completely safe, a feeling you had been searching for most of your life. The list of reasons why you’d fallen head over heels for him so quickly was endless.

The day you found out he’d been arrested was something straight out of one of your nightmares. It had taken you months to find a way off of Ryloth and get in contact with Rex and his crew of rogue clones. With each passing day your fear had grown, the thoughts of all the horrible things The Empire might be doing to him kept you up at night. But even worse was the thought that you might have already been too late to save him.

You knew Rex and his crew were competent though, you’d seen them in action enough times over the past few weeks to know that if anyone could rescue Howzer it was them.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Rex suddenly appeared at your side. He didn’t say anything at first but you could see him looking up at the sky out of your peripheral vision. You let out another breath that you’d been holding. You hadn’t known Rex for long but you had instantly liked the former clone Captain. He was stalwart and steady, he rolled with the punches in a way you admired. His calm presence at your side had the anxiety in your stomach settling, but only just.

“They’ll be fine,” He said finally, breaking the relative silence on the landing platform. You weren’t entirely sure if he meant to reassure you or himself, but you appreciated it either way.

Your own words were stuck in your throat, so you simply nodded in return, heart beating so quickly that you could feel your pulse racing beneath your skin.

Finally, the familiar sight of The Remora broke through the hundreds of ships up above. It seemed impossible but your heart rate picked up even more as you watched it slowly lower towards the landing platform.

Rex gave you a meaningful and reassuring look before he moved away from you, heading towards the ship as its landing gear touched the ground. You stood rooted to the spot, frozen in fear and anticipation of what might be awaiting you when the ramp lowered. If they had failed… if he was already… no, you couldn’t go there. Not right now. The hydraulics of the ship hissed as the door to the ship opened, the ramp lowering as it began to power down.

You suddenly moved a few steps forward, unconscious of the movement, as Echo came down first. You only just registered him clapping Rex on the shoulder before your gaze returned to the ship. You stopped, fear making your limbs seize once more as Fireball and Nemec exited the ship followed by three other clones dressed in grey and navy prison garb. Your breath caught in your throat at the familiar sight that followed them. Dressed in the same navy prison uniform, was Howzer.

Your heart was pounding painfully against your rib cage as you watched him walk down the ramp. You couldn’t believe that he was actually here. You’d hoped every single day that you would see him again but now that it was happening it felt like it was all a dream. Even from this distance, you could see he looked different, paler and slimmer than he had been before but still undeniably Howzer. You took a few more steps forward, almost in a daze before another thought had you freezing in place. Would he be happy to see you? You might be undeniably in love with him but you’d never actually said that out loud to him. Maybe you’d over-estimated the depth of the bond you had, misread the words and intimate moments the two of you had shared…

Suddenly, every worried thought that had flooded your mind faded as you watched Howzer’s steps falter on the ramp as his gaze found you. A jolt of electricity shot through you as your eyes connected, every emotion you felt for him rushing up inside of you as he seemed to freeze in place. His warm eyes widened in shock, even from this distance you could see the disbelief on his face. Time seemed to stand still as you looked at him, joy bubbling up inside of you, replacing your earlier disbelief. He was here. He was safe. You hadn’t been too late.

Howzer finally seemed to unfreeze but you stayed rooted to your spot, everything else that was happening around you faded away as he made his way straight towards you, covering the ground between the two of you in a few purposeful strides. There was only him. There had always only been him. Before you could even think of uttering a greeting his arms were around you, crushing you to his chest so tightly you felt the air leave your lungs. Your eyes burned with tears as you held him back, melting into his embrace.

“You’re ok,” your voice croaked with emotion, eyes squeezing shut as you held him tightly. You weren’t sure if it was a question or a reassurance to yourself that he was actually there. Tears slid down your face as he cupped the back of your head, pulling you in even closer to him. Everything about him was the same, the lines of his body that had always fit so perfectly with your own, his gentle but reassuring touch, the soft rise and fall of his even breaths. Even his smell was the same, clean with the faintest hint of blaster fire. It was overwhelming to be so close to him after having spent so many nights dreaming of him. You had missed him so much. The ache had been unbearable. Being in his arms again was like coming home, you’d never felt safer.

“I’m ok,” he finally replied, voice a soft whisper against your ear as his hold on you tightened even more. He swayed slightly, rocking the two of you back in forth as you continued to hold on tightly to one another. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, burying your face into his neck as a soft sob escaped your mouth. You never wanted to let him go again. He turned his head, planting a soft kiss on your hair, your cheek, anywhere he could reach with how close you were. Your eyes continued to burn with tears as you basked in the feeling of being held and loved by him once more.

Eventually, he did pull away, but only just enough that he could look at you fully. His hands remained on your waist, a warm and comforting weight. His eyes were wet as they traced your face, the same disbelief that had been present earlier was still there.

“How are you here?” His voice was rougher than normal, as though he hadn’t used it in ages.

“Well, someone had to find a way to rescue you,” You teased softly as you lifted your own hands to gently grasp the underside of his forearms. It felt good to touch him, a physical reminder that he was here and not about to disappear at any moment.

“Without Y/N we wouldn’t have known to look for you specifically on the prisoner lists,” Rex’s voice sounded suddenly, causing both of you to jump slightly. You’d both been so lost in one another that you hadn’t noticed the rest of the clones gathering around. You felt your face flush slightly at the realization that they’d probably witnessed your entire emotional reunion but that feeling was gone in an instant as you looked back at Howzer who was looking at you in astonishment.

“And here I was spending my days in prison planning how I was going to get back to you on Ryloth,” He said with a chuckle. He shook his head slightly in disbelief but the pure joy you could see on his face filled you with happiness.

“Saved you the trip,” You replied before closing the distance between the two of you once more, wrapping your arms around his waist as you gazed up at him.

He laughed again, squeezing you tightly, “How did you pull this off?” He looked away from you for a moment to survey the space around them and the small group of clones that had rescued him.

“Well, first I feel like I should say I’m sorry that it took so long,” You said, a wave of guilt washing over you at the thought of all that might have happened while he’d been imprisoned.

He pulled back slightly, brow furrowing but you continued before he could protest, “It took me a while to find a way off Ryloth. After you were arrested everything became so chaotic, there was so much civil unrest,” Howzer frowned at that, which wasn’t surprising. He loved Ryloth and its people, something that you loved so much about him, and he had worked so hard to protect it. To hear that all of that had essentially been for nothing would be heartbreaking.

“I eventually managed to stow away on an Imperial supply transport. After that I was able to meet up with the clones that helped rescue Cham and Eleni, they put me in contact with Rex,” You explained. You’d lived through a war and most of your life had been spent in conflict, but the last few months had been some of the most stressful you had ever experienced. The stress of not knowing if Howzer was still alive had eaten away at you.

Sensing your distress, Howzer pulled you close once more, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he pressed his face into your hair, “Thank you,” His voice was so quiet that only you would have been able to hear his words.

Howzer pulled away from you again after a moment but he seemed unwilling to go far, you could feel the heat radiating off of him, his hand still on your waist. You both finally looked away from one another as Rex and Echo stepped closer.

“We’ll let you give him the tour,” Rex said to you before he raised a hand to rest it on Howzer’s shoulder, “We’re happy to have you, brother.”

Howzer smiled, “Thanks for the rescue boys.”

Rex clapped him on the shoulder once more before he and Echo moved off, likely to help the other three clones that had been rescued get settled as Gregor, Nemec, and Fireball moved the Remora into the hanger.

“Come on,” You finally said, reaching down to grab Howzer’s hand with your own, “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Howzer’s smile widened as he followed along behind you willingly, the weight of his large hand in your own was reassuring as you showed him around the Martez sisters’ garage.

“It’s not much, but it does the job. At least, for now,” You explained to him as you headed back towards where the bunks and the single refresher were. Rex and the others had been talking about finding a new base for a while but so far they didn’t have any leads.

“It’s definitely an upgrade from an Imperial prison,” he said lightly, but you didn’t miss the dark flash of his eyes. You squeezed his hand in comfortingly as you pointed out the door to the refresher.

“All we’ve got is a sonic but I figured you might want to use that…”

He chuckled, “The hair could use a refresh for sure.”

You laughed as he leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your cheek. He was notoriously meticulous about his hair.

When he leaned back his gaze swept over you once more from head to toe, a mix of both disbelief and relief on his face, “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” He said softly, hazel gaze warm as he squeezed the hand that he was still holding.

“I can’t believe it either,” You said just as softly, heart thrumming in your chest as you looked up at him. You lifted your free hand to trace the lines of the scar on his face, as you had done what felt like hundreds of times before. He closed his eyes, leaning into your embrace for a moment.

“Go shower,” You said after a long moment, smiling softly at him as you let your hand fall away from his face, “I’ll wait.”

He took a few steps back, pulling your hand along with him until just the tips of your fingers were still touching. The gesture made you laugh softly before he spoke again, “Don’t disappear on me.”

“Never,” You assured him, giving his fingers one last squeeze before you separated. You watched him until the door of the refresher slid shut behind him before you turned back and headed toward your bunk. It was slightly away from the rest, tucked behind a half wall to give you some sense of privacy. The clones were used to sleeping in close quarters but it had been an adjustment for you after having spent so much of your life alone, so you had appreciated their effort to make you feel more comfortable. Now though, as you sat down on your slightly lumpy mattress, you wondered if you should move it closer to the rest. The idea of being away from Howzer, even if he was just across the room, didn’t sit well in your stomach. You frowned though as the earlier doubtful thoughts that had plagued you returned. Maybe he would prefer the space…

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind of any unwanted insecurities. You sighed as you leaned back against the wall, suddenly feeling so very tired. It was as if all of the worry and sleepless nights had finally caught up to you now that he was safe. A massive weight had lifted off of your shoulders, the relief you felt was astronomical, but the fatigue was an ache deep within your bones. You closed your eyes, tipping your head back against the wall as you took a few deep breaths, trying to rid yourself of any remaining tension. Howzer was safe. You were safe. Tomorrow might bring a whole new set of problems, but for today you were together again and that was all that mattered.

“Bored already?” Your eyes popped open once more as the mattress dipped and Howzer’s voice broke through the sleepy fog you had been quickly falling into.

You smiled at him softly as he climbed onto the bed, leaning against the wall as he angled himself towards you. Somehow he looked better already. The prison uniform was gone, replaced by a standard set of blacks that highlighted the weight he’d lost. But his warm eyes seemed brighter, his skin less pale. His hair was clean and meticulous as always. Your memory hadn’t served him fully, he was so handsome. Your heart ached just looking at him.

You shook your head, focusing on his earlier teasing question, “No, it’s just…It’s been a….” You paused though, completely unsure of how to describe the last few months. Honestly, the last few years. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly felt at peace. Likely long before the war had begun.

Howzer’s answering chuckle was soft, “Yeah, you can say that again.”

You turned yourself slightly so that you were facing him, knees bumping against his own as you instinctually reached out to place a hand on his arm. Anyone else might have missed the dark undercurrent in his tone, but you knew him better than that.

“Are you ok?” You asked softly. You didn’t want to push him, but at the same time, you wanted him to know that you were there for him. No matter how dark things may be.

Howzer chuckled again before shrugging his shoulders, “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

You raised a brow at him questioningly as you gently squeezed his bicep, "You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not,” He smiled slightly, the warmth from earlier returning to his eyes, “It wasn’t fun but I swear I’m ok."

You looked at him for a long moment, studying the lines on his face and trying to find any sign that he was hiding something from you. But his expression was relaxed once more, if there was anything it was buried deep.

“Well, if you ever want to talk about it…” You started.

“I know exactly who to go to,” He finished before he lifted his hand to wrap around your wrist, “C’mere.”

He didn’t even leave you a moment to protest before he was tugging you towards him, pulling you both down onto the mattress. His warmth immediately seeped into you as he wrapped his arms around you, your body lining up perfectly with the lines of his own as you laid on top of him. The list of things you loved about him was endless, but moments like this one, being wrapped up safely in his arms were definitely near the top of the list.

You let your head rest against his chest, the steady sound of his heart in your ear as you tipped your chin up slightly so you could still see his face. He’d closed his eyes but the soft smile from earlier was still present on his face. Your own heart fluttered at the sight and unable to resist anymore you stretched your neck slightly to plant a soft kiss on the scar on his jawline. As you pulled away you didn’t miss the way his smile grew even wider.

Smiling, you closed your eyes and snuggled further into him, relishing in his warmth even though there was still a part of you that couldn’t fully believe he was there with you. You were afraid that you were suddenly going to wake up and discover that this was just another one of your dreams. The warm weight of his hands on your back, his fingers tightening just slightly in the fabric of your shirt, reassured you.

The two of you were quiet for a long moment, simply basking in the presence of one another. You could tell though, by the way his breathing had slowed and evened out, that he was beginning to fall asleep. Your thoughts from earlier resurfaced and a wave of anxiety quickly washed through you. You pushed it aside though, you knew that it likely wouldn’t be long before the rest of his brothers started to filter into their makeshift barracks. Howzer had always been fairly private so you weren’t sure how he’d feel about his brothers seeing the two of you snuggled up in your bunk.

Your eyes popped open at the thought and you lifted your head just slightly to be able to get a better look at him, “Your brothers set up a bunk for you over with the others if you’re tired and want to get some actual rest…” You hated how unsure you sounded but it was too late now to do anything about it.

Howzer didn’t open his eyes but you knew by the way his breathing picked up just slightly that he was still awake. It was a long moment before he spoke, eyes still closed but one eyebrow rose questioningly, “Across the room?”

Too far, you wanted to say but stopped yourself, “Yeah, next to Fireball, I think.” You had appreciated their optimism at the time, setting up a bunk before they were even sure he was still alive but now you very much regretted agreeing to both let them set up his bunk there and for having your own across the room.

Howzer’s eyes popped open and he tilted his head slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes were warm with a hint of amusement flashing in them, “Why would I go across the room when I’ve got everything I need right here?”

Your heart was suddenly racing in your chest and you could feel your face growing warm, “You don’t want your own bunk?”

His face suddenly turned serious once more and you could see the tips of his ears turn red just slightly, “Well, unless you want your own space…”

“No!” You cut him off so quickly that you felt your face grow even warmer with embarrassment, “Erm, well, no it’s ok. You can stay here if you want to. I’d like you to,” You added the last part shyly.

Howzer was quiet for a long moment, a soft but contemplative look on his face as his hand drew soothing circles on your back.

“What is it?” You asked after another few moments, unable to ignore the look he was giving you. Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you could feel your face growing red. He had always had a way of looking at you that felt as if he could see exactly what was going on inside your head.

“I don’t want to move across the room,” He repeated softly, lifting one hand to cup your jaw gently. The touch set your skin aflame, just as it always did. You wanted nothing more than to simply melt into his touch, it had been so long.

Your brow furrowed in confusion slightly though at his words, you’d already told him he didn’t have to, “I don’t want you to either.”

The corners of his mouth flicked up just slightly in a smile but his gaze remained intense, his touch soft as he cradled your face, “I thought of you every moment we were apart.”

The words you had been about to say were suddenly stuck in your throat, your eyes began to burn at his admission as your heart pounded against your ribcage.

Howzer continued, his thumb stroking gently against your cheek, "Thinking of seeing you again was the only thing that kept me going,” He paused for a moment, his tone suddenly mournful, “The regret kept me awake at night.”

You lifted your head even more to be able to see his face better, “Regret?”

He was quiet for another moment, his thumb stilling on your face. His gaze was suddenly so intense that you felt as if you would melt under the weight of it, “That I never told you how much I’m in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at his words and it felt as if your heart was swelling in your chest. You lifted a hand to cradle his face on instinct, suddenly overcome with emotions. Your eyes were stinging but your gaze was sure as you looked up at him, “I love you too,” You replied softly, watching as his expression lit up, a smile forming on his face, "Being apart from you felt as if I was missing a piece of myself,” You continued as you let your other hand move to rest over his heart. The steady pound of it beneath your fingers anchored you in that moment.

He let his free hand fall to rest overtop of yours on his chest, fingers squeezing your own reassuringly as he smirked at you, "Well good because you’re stuck with me forever. Even if I die I’ll haunt you.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head further into his hand, eyes narrowing playfully “How… romantic?”

He laughed but before either of you could say anything else he closed the distance between the two of you, his kiss stealing the breath from your lungs. He moaned softly as your lips parted for him, his tongue brushing along your bottom lip. The heat of him was searing as he used the hand on your face to angle you up and deepen the kiss. Everything completely faded in that moment, there was only him. The absolute love of your life.

When he finally pulled away, both of your chests were heaving and your entire body felt as if it was on fire as he rested his forehead against your own. You let your eyes fall closed, focusing on synching your breathing with his own.

He was still so close, his nose brushing against your own as he spoke again, his voice a soft, gentle murmur, “Thank you for coming back for me.”

You opened your eyes again and met his gaze, the hand you had resting over his heart fisting gently in his blacks. Your voice was sure and steady when you spoke, every ounce of emotion that you were feeling present in your tone, “There is nothing in the galaxy that could keep me away from you. I will come for you every time, Howzer.”

He was quiet for another long moment, his expression one of mild disbelief, “Did I mention how much I love you?”

“Yes, but I’m not opposed to hearing it again," You laughed softly, stroking his jaw with your hand gently.

This time when he kissed you it was slow and gentle, as though you had all the time in the galaxy. His hand slid from your face, back into your hair as his tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with your own. A thrill shot up your spine as his other hand moved to the small of your back, pressing you further into him with a gentle touch. You want nothing more than to stay in that moment with him forever.

Eventually, you pulled back slowly as you felt his kisses begin to change. They were soft and sleepy, like the ones he used to give you in the mornings back on Ryloth after you’d spent the night together. Your own eyes felt heavy as you brushed your nose against his, giving him one last lingering kiss before fully pulling away.

His eyelids were heavy when you looked up at him, but he was smiling so brightly it made your heart skip a beat. Sometimes, you didn't fully understand how you could love someone else so much.

“Get some rest,” You said gently, stroking the scar on his face once more as his eyelids dipped.

He let out a deep sigh, both arms moving to wrap around your back once more, pulling you in close as you rest your head against his chest. From this spot, you felt his next words more than you heared them.

“I’m afraid if I go to sleep this will all be a dream,” He murmured, arms tightening around you instinctively.

“I’m here Howzer,” You reassured him, resting your hand over his heart once more as you moved to press your face into the junction between his shoulder and neck, “We’re safe.”

He hummed slightly in response as he tipped his head to rest against your own, “You’ll still be here when I wake up?”

“Always,” you replied as you closed your eyes, drifting away as his breathing evened out. Of that you were certain, you would do everything in your power to stay with him, forever. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring but you knew that as long as you were together you would make it through.

#the clone wars #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars the clone wars #captain howzer #clone trooper howzer #howzer x reader #clone x reader #howzer

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fanficsbysteve · 2 months ago

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The Key to my Heart

Note: Well, here’s an idea that I had, and it took me all of 3 hours to write. I wasn’t the hugest fan of the way things ended for Buck and Tommy so what you will read now is how I imagine it should have gone if the writers weren’t going for maximum shock value.

Also available on AO3 if you want to leave me some kudos there.

W/C: 1574

Rating: PG for some implied sexy times near the end.

***

Tommy sat and stared at the pictures of Evan and Abbie on his phone. Pics of them together, pictures of them kissing, everything. Tommy wouldn’t be shocked if there were some not so safe for work pictures on this phone of Abbie and Evan. Tommy’s mind was going a mile a minute, trying not to think too far into it. He had left Abbie by this point; he didn’t know Evan at this point either. He couldn’t fault them for being together. He couldn’t dictate who each of them slept with or had a relationship with just like he didn’t think anyone had any right to telling him and Evan about their relationship.

Evan was talking to Tommy, something about admiration. Tommy felt his heart dropping. Did Evan actually see him? Did Evan actually know anything about him? This was the man who spent a day and a night researching a cowboy dead 100 years, but didn’t know the Kinsey Scale, and had forgotten that he was 100% gay. Tommy tried to tune into what Evan was talking about, “So I thought, why be apart when we can be together,” Tommy felt his heart sinking further at this. Evan was jumping ahead. Tommy didn’t know how to handle this. He had been in this place before, he had been the person jumping ahead before and it never ended well, “So I wanted to give you this.”

Tommy was confused. This was not what he thought was going to happen. Evan was reaching into his pocket and came out with a key, “What’s this?” Tommy’s voice was breaking due to all the emotions he had been building up, but he cleared his throat to hopefully get it back to normal.

“Well, I originally thought to myself ‘Wouldn’t it be great if me and Tommy just lived together. We already spend so much time together and it would make being with each other so much easier’ and as much as I would have loved that idea,” Evan explained, “After 6 months of dating, it would have been going a little fast, and I’ve had so many bad things happen from going so fast. So, I thought of the next best thing. A key to this loft,” Evan gestured around to the loft around them, “That way you can come whenever you want, and you don’t have to wait for me to be home, or have to wait outside for me to let you in.”

Tommy was taken aback when the key was slid towards him. A key, that’s what this was? A key to the loft, “Thank you,” Tommy said, “I don’t have a key for you though.”

“You don’t need to give me a key to your place,” Evan replied, “I just wanted to give you a sign that you mean a lot to me. That you are someone I can see a future with eventually. Josh gave me this long speech at 911 HQ about Glee that made no sense to me cause I’ve never seen Glee, but it made me realize some things and myself, and about you, and about us.”

Tommy just sat there, staring at Evan. Staring at this idiot of a man who somehow can say the right things at the right times, but also somehow not, “I think we need to talk a bit more about ourselves before we consider the next steps,” Tommy said, “Learn more about each other before you decide that I’m your forever guy. There are so many things about me that you don’t know. That few people know.”

“I want to know about you, Tommy,” Evan said, “And I don’t want you to feel pressure to tell me everything, but I just want you to know that I won’t judge. You aren’t judging me for being with your ex-fiancé.”

“That’s to be determined,” Tommy chuckled, “Well as a start, I guess, I want you to know that I only came out as gay five years ago. I broke things off with Abbie, transferred from the 118, you can ask Hen and Howie about what I was like back then, and started a new phase of my life at Harbor Station. But I didn’t come out officially to anyone around me until two years after my transfer. I’ve got a lot of traumas related to being gay and I don’t exactly handle them in a productive manner.”

“I’m sorry that you had to handle things like this alone. You shouldn’t have had to be like that. You know the 118 as it is now would have supported you in everything right?” Evan looked at Tommy, his eyes showing he truly believed the words he was saying.

“I was at the 118 under Gerrard,” Tommy explained, “You only had to experience a fraction of what it was like. I’m at peace with where I am now. I just want you to understand where I’m coming from.”

“Doesn’t mean that I can’t still empathize,” Evan replied, “And in the spirit of sharing trauma from our past,” Evan said, “I was only born to be spare parts for an older brother who was dying from Leukemia. I only learned about this about 3-4 years ago.”

Tommy’s mouth dropped open at this admission. How was Evan so well adjusted knowing that, “I’m so sorry that you believe that. I’m sure you weren’t just spare parts.”

“Oh, I was, my parents told me as much,” Evan laughed, “Defective parts no less. The son my parents wanted died a year after I was born because my bone marrow couldn’t save him. I came to terms with all this years ago. After a huge yelling match with my parents,” Evan shrugged.

Tommy walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. The longest hug they had ever had. Tommy felt tears in his eyes as he held Evan. His Evan. Tommy pulled out of the hug and looked Evan right in the eyes, he had to say this now or he never would, “I have something to tell you,” Tommy said, “And I don’t need a response from you either, but I just want you to know this,” Tommy took a deep breath before he continued, “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

Now it was Evan’s turn to have his mouth drop open. Tommy felt a sense of peace from saying that, but he also felt a sense of dread. What if this admission to Evan made him realize that he didn’t truly see a future with him. What if this is what ended things? Tommy’s heart couldn’t handle that. But he had to let that out. A thousand more What If’s flooded his brain as he stood there looking at Evan, trying to get a read on his face, “I don’t know what to say to that,” Evan said flabbergasted.

“I don’t need a response,” Tommy interjected quickly, “Let’s just pretend that I didn’t say anything and go have our movie night,” Tommy looked at the clock, “Though I think we might be too late for that.”

“No, I do want to respond to what you said,” Evan replied. Evan also took a deep breath, “I don’t know what I feel about you. I don’t know if its lust, love, or something else that hasn’t been defined. What I do know is that I do feel something for you. Something that makes me feel like you are meant to be the one. The one that I spend the rest of my life with. The one that I have been looking for all these years. I might not be able to put it into simple words, but I just wanted you to know how I feel. Maybe it is love. I mean I’ve been in love before, but it feels different from that. More complete. Maybe what I felt before with someone wasn’t love. Or maybe because its with you, someone who makes me feel comfortable and at peace with myself, maybe it feels different because its with you. I don’t want to put a label on it but that’s how I feel.”

Tommy smiled at Evan. He did realize that he was falling in love with this man, and this just cemented it. He noticed how he felt as far back as that funeral for Billy Boils. How passionate Evan was about this long dead cowboy. His words that day stuck with Tommy, and he wanted to be Evan’s people. The ones that make life worth living, “That’s a great answer,” Tommy choked. He pulled Evan into another hug, and this time let the tears slide down his cheeks, “That was the perfect answer.”

Evan smiled and kissed Tommy, not a chaste kiss that they had been sharing lately, not a heat of the moment passion kiss that they shared at the hospital before the wedding. This was something different. Different emotions were brought into this kiss. Tommy enjoyed it, “So we definitely won’t make our movie now,” Tommy said into Evan’s mouth, “Did you have a back-up plan?”

“Well, we are here,” Evan said, “And you did make an implication when you arrived,” Evan started to wiggle his eyebrows in a suggestive way, “Might not be as quick though.”

Tommy smiled at the thought and let Evan pull him towards the stairs to his loft bedroom. This was a much better ending to this day.

***

Note: I hate how BuckTommy ended just as much as the next person, so I decided to rewrite how I wanted them to go that night. So, this is what you get. In my brain now this is what happened, and the rest of the season so far is scraped. I also wanted to get you guys something as it has been a week since I last posted and I was starting to feel bad.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tevan #buck x tommy #tommy kinard #bucktommy fanfic #fix it fic

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lynnuvo · 6 months ago

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₊✩‧₊˚Your Biggest Fan! ˚₊✩‧₊

Characters: Streamer (Y/N) x Yandere!Fan Potential to become a series. If you're interested, stay tuned and stay wary ♡ .ᐟ

You are the literal embodiment of a college student: stressed yet laidback at random times, too tired to put a lot of effort to dress up unless it counted, and--most relevant of all--broke. And in this instance, you are disastrously broke.

After the most heated argument with your parents you ever had in your life, they sent a text message when you got home stating that they would no longer be providing financial support unless there is an dire emergency. To say you were panicked would be an understatement. Your parents typically refused to not send you money when you told them you didn't need it (you did). As much as the family bickered and made up as fast as temperatures change, they always threw money your way. The argument was spontaneous and could not have come at a worse time. Before it happened, you shared with them that you had just gotten fired from your part-time job.

You flop on your bed and pull out your phone to doomscroll the afternoon away. Classes have taken the energy out of you. You could job search, but you decide you deserve a break.

After an hour, you come across a video of a big streamer talking about their income with their chat. Your interest piques at the revealed amount of money they receive from streaming alone and from sponsorships. Getting paid to do whatever you want? It sounded like a dream.

It starts as a simple thought, but it wakes up with you the next morning and trails with you to class. More videos of streamers pop up while you try and dine to entertainment. You distract yourself at night with games, but you wake up still thinking of it.

After two weeks of overthinking about expenses, you decide to give in to the temptation. You were lucky your dorm was already paid for, but groceries are becoming harder to obtain already.

You make an account on CommLines one night and decorate your profile--fonts and all. You didn't expect for research to come into play, but you need as much engagement as possible.

The next night, you prepare to do your first stream. You're going to need to get the hang of things and a fanbase before you're eligible for payment.

The first five streams go as expected: the only viewer you receive during one of your gameplays leaves after 10 minutes without saying anything. You end your last stream with a sigh. Admittedly, it's a bit awkward talking to yourself, but you needed to add some clips to another social media account you made.

After talking about your family predicament with a friend in class, they offer you a job at their family's restaurant. It's only for one day a week since their parents are skeptical about their child's friends all the time, but you take it anyway. Any income is better than no income. Thankfully, the restaurant colleagues treat you better than your last job. You actually find yourself enjoying the place (save for the lunch rush, of course).

You're no longer as desperate for money, so the next time you stream, you let yourself loose. You're getting bored of the popular FPS you've been streaming, so you try out a niche RPG you saw another streamer play. It's quite fun thinking of yourself as a YooTube creator now! You're not worried about your reactions and the best way to play as much anymore. From then on, you stream when you have free time and feel like it.

Over the span of four months, your platform grows at a tremendous rate due to someone making one of your clips grow viral (though they title the video embarrassingly: "Top 5 Screams from New Players of Scary Scary Town: Horror RPG!!"). Your numbers aren't quite there to get monetized yet, but you average 100+ viewers per stream now. Your heart beats with passion when you start one after finals.

"Hey everyone! Nice to see you all again! Mwah!" you greet, throwing a silly little kiss at the camera. "I'm having a great day today. First one to guess is getting pinned why is getting pinned. Even if no one guesses, I'll tell you anyway~!"

Messages flood the chat.

You grin as you finally spot an answer. "I see someone! Mr.OWO--I can't believe I just said that--you got it so fast. I'm guessing you might also have classes. Lemme figure out--sorry, this is my first time pinning someone, but I know it's possible....there! That's it; I passed all of my finals!"

Praises and cute emojis pile up. You thank your followers and open a video. "As the title suggests, I'm not gaming this time. I'm doing a bit of hobby-exploring. See here, a friend gifted me this wooden box to store some stuff. I want to paint it, but I'm not the best at coming up with ideas. I was hoping you guys might be able to help me."

And so, you begin. You answer questions from chat while taking suggestions as you paint. Your hands get messy, your job isn't perfect, but you're having a great time. There ends up being no theme, but you love the doodles regardless.

Another suggestion rolls in. You read, "'I think you should paint a fox with a bowtie. By the way, I'm surprised you got this far.' That's a cute one, though I'm not sure how to take that last sentence....SheepyWolf23."

Huh. That name looks familiar.

SheepyWolf23: i was your only viewer in one of your streams a few months ago. you were playing GotchaHand2.

You gasp. "Oh my gosh! It's you! How did you find me again?!"

SheepyWolf23: i just saw you on my FYP streaming page but with much more subs. just wanted to check in but ended up staying and subbing XD SheepyWolf23: cant wait to join more

A laugh escapes your lips as heat rushes to your face. "Thank you so much for coming back! Everyone, SheepyWolf23 is my first viewer of all time. Crazy how things change, huh?"

You continue the stream as normal, though your inner feelings are otherwise. By midnight, your box is finally complete. It certainly has personality that you thank the chat for gifting. With a wave, you end the stream and wipe your eyes with your wrist. It's late and you need to clean up before bed.

The next morning, you wake to get ready for school. All is typical until you skim your phone while packing lunch. You nearly drop your tupperware.

A notification from a direct message on CommLines reads:

SheepyWolf23: hey! hope i'm not disturbing. i see you haven't set up donations yet. how do you feel abt donos?

Your heart beats in your chest. This is your first private message from a subscriber. The alarm on your phone blares, making you flinch. You hurriedly prepare to leave the dorm to get to class on time. The sun shines bright and the breeze tickles your legs on the way to campus--a good sign, you hope. You're a bit early, so you slip into a seat quietly and take out your note-taking necessities. No one in real life knows you stream yet; you're shy at the thought. Despite having already shown your face to the internet, you wish no one in real life approaches you about your online activities. Therefore, you hold off on opening the app until after classes.

When that time came, you drive home as quick as possible and throw yourself on the bed. You take a deep breath before replying.

Streamer(Y/N): hi! no, you're not, don't worry! to be honest, i'm not sure how to receive them and whether im at the right level to

Ping!

Wow. They're fast. Then again, it is the time when both workers and students of all grades start leaving their buildings.

SheepyWolf23: wdym level? Streamer(Y/N): im not sure how to describe it. i guess what i mean is that i'm not "big" enough? tho i dont really emphasize getting big as much as it is to have fun! SheepyWolf23: ohhh. don't worry about that! you have to be a certain "level" to be monetized, but donations can come at any time! i can help you Streamer(Y/N): really? that would be nice if it's no trouble! Streamer(Y/N): you're not gonna hack me, are you? SheepyWolf23: of course not XD promise

The user messages you instructions and suggestions for resources that can be useful. You spend the next hour examining them and finally choose one. They guide you, from making the app account to linking it to your streaming account. As part of the promise, they do not ask for your personal identifiers of any kind--not even once. The only thing he does have is the username, which is the same as your username for streaming.

Streamer(Y/N): i think it's done! SheepyWolf23: yup, that should be all. let me try something just to be sure.

You don't have time to wonder what it could be before a ping! resounds from your phone. On it is a notification from the money transfer app stating that you received $50 from SheepyWolf23. You gape and frantically fly your fingers across the keyboard.

Streamer(Y/N): you didn't have to donate! i'm grateful for your help and that's enough for me, i promise SheepyWolf23: haha don't worry about it. please don't send the money back. it's part of my fun money. and n e way, you deserve it for the sudden growth! i get to be your first viewer and your first donator XD Streamer(Y/N): omg you're right. thank you so much!! i srsly mean it SheepyWolf23: ur welcome! im going out with friends tonight, so i should get ready now. see you next stream ᵔᴥᵔ Streamer(Y/N): oh okay okay, have a good night! thank you again!

SheepyWolf23 doesn't answer back, concluding the conversation. Your grin could break your face. It's been forever since you felt you were on the right track of something. Maybe this was the start of your path to be part of the Top 10 Streamers online.

Oh, who were you kidding? You weren't going to get that far yet, but you're going to enjoy trying to your fullest.

Your next couple streams are all successes. A few people went out of their way to clip parts of the recording themselves to post on Yootube, which both enlightened and terrified you. You were going to have to be more careful about what you say, but to be honest, you haven't run into any problems with that so far. Still, it's a little scary to think that strangers anywhere in the world are viewing you. That's a cost of your streaming content you were willing to take.

You're in quite a chipper mood in class one day when you feel a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, you find your friend, Sherry, behind you with a smile. She gestures for you to hurry up and pack your things so you both can leave for lunch together. You do so. It wasn't a normal occurrence to eat out with friends during the weekdays, so today was extra special!

You two hop into Sherry's car and head to her restaurant--the one you work at. You'd guess most wouldn't want to dine at their workplace, but Sherry's employees make mean meals. You're both quickly escorted to a booth and delivered food; Sherry, with the power of the daughter of an establishment, receives only the best service.

"Thank you again, girl," you cheer as you feast immediately. "I'm so glad things are doing well here, from what your dad said last shift, anyway."

Sherry chuckles. "Yeah, you know you're doing great in the food service when the rushes are torture. I'm so sorry. You're on your feet much more than I am."

"Oh, don't worry about it! I'm grateful for the job, and you have to deal with the nasty customers at the register. I hate hearing old ladies yell at you. I just want to punch them!"

"Please don't!" Sherry chides half-heartedly, pointing her straw at you. She suddenly whispers, "Anyway, I heard my mom and dad talking about raises last night. You're for sure getting one. It's not by a lot, but I figure you need it."

Your eyes brighten, and you jump forward to hold her hand. "Really?! Oh my gawd, thank you, Sherry! I love you so much! I could kiss you!"

Sherry laughs aloud as you mimic kissing her. You catch an elderly couple side-eyeing, but you don't care. You finally sit back down and release a light sigh. "I feel like I've been dreaming lately. Things are going so well, and I actually feel alive!"

"That sounds good! How come?"

"Well, first of all, this job. Then, uh--" You flicker your eyes to the wall and hide your smile a bit. "--my hobbies have been making me real happy. Like painting and playing games, you know? I also started clay-making. It's harder than I thought, but I think I'll get the hang of it sometime."

Much to your surprise, Sherry's smile falls. Her mouth opens and closes hesitantly before she finally says, "(Y/N), can you be honest with me?"

"Huh? Yeah, of course. I've always been."

"Are you....streaming?"

Your heart drops. Your mind shouts at you to laugh it off, but your voice is caught in your throat. Was it really necessary to lie to someone who's helped you this much?

You don't need to make the decision. Sherry rests her elbows on the table and offers a tiny smile. "You do, don't you."

"Yeah...I do. How did you know?"

"I saw one of your clips on YooTube. I chalked it up to similarity at first, but I searched a couple more videos and couldn't deny it was you." She chuckled. "Thank goodness I was right. It would have been embarrassing if I was wrong."

"Please don't tell anyone, Sherry."

"I won't. I haven't. I'm glad you're doing something that makes you happy, but...just be careful, okay?"

"I am, don't worry!"

"I mean it, (Y/N)." She fiddles with her fork and drops her gaze to her plate. "I know it might not be my place to say, but I saw some....things people said. They're mostly good things, though! It's just...in the comments of a video, I saw someone talking about your shirt...hanging a bit--um--down, you know?"

"Oh my gosh. I wasn't exposing myself too much, was I?"

"No no. I was just a bit of cleavage, but the person was making it a bigger deal than it was." She rolled her eyes. "Some guys act like they've never seen a woman."

You take a bit of your food with furrowed brows. "I can't believe it. Thank you. I'll be more careful. I was having fun--I didn't realize. Oh. How much of my streams do you watch, if you don't mind me asking?"

She waves her hand. "I don't pay much attention to videogames, even less streams. The only streamer I know except you is the big one with red hair. Don't worry about whether I'm watching! No offense, but I'd rather go thrifting and make vlogs for my TappyGram!"

"Oh right. I saw the new video you posted. The pink top with bows was so cute! Who was that girl shopping with you?"

"My cousin! We both like pastels, so we went to the mall together to find some. Let me show you the stuff I didn't post!"

Sherry pulls out her phone, and the day continues. After lunch, she drops you off and bids you farewell before heading home. You head to your car yourself, grateful your professor cancelled class. When you get to your dorm room, you shower, change, and search the comments of every YooTube video of you you could find. It's probably best not to look for the comments Sherry told you about, but you're curious--too curious for your own good.

You finally find it.

RedCarsAre_Sexy: aw man, almost saw her tits ⤷ 608x: wtf? ⤷ TwinkleMonster: people like you are why police exist

Your stomach twists. It's okay. It's the internet, after all. There's bound to be people with thoughts that are better kept in their dirty minds. Should you address these thoughts with your subscribers? It'll definitely tell them you absolutely do not want this kind of behavior, but what if it draws the wrong attention instead? What if it somehow becomes controversial?

Discouraged, you opt to focus on your studies and friends. They do a great job of distracting you from the matter, so much so that three weeks passed since your last stream.

You're eating alone at a fast food joint while watching videos when a notification from CommLines pops up.

SheepyWolf23: hey! everything okay? just checking since u normally stream at least once within two weeks

"I do?" you mumbled with a fry in your mouth. You two haven't conversed since they helped you with setting up donation, so it was a bit of a relief to hear from them again. A little touching that they're concerned enough to inquire about it too. You open the app and message back.

Streamer(Y/N): hi again! im doing okay, no worries! i didnt realize that much time has passed since my last stream. i've been so focused on irl stuff i never really planned a time when i'd come back SheepyWolf23: oh that makes sense. sorry if this made you uncomfortable Streamer(Y/N): no no, pls dont be sorry. i should have put something in my bio saying im taking a rest SheepyWolf23: true but i dont think a lot of ppl would go to your CommLines bio for that. how abt making a server instead? like on DisKord? it would be easier to make announcements and talk to fans. Streamer(Y/N): huh, maybe i should. i'll make one when i finish eating SheepyWolf23: yay! can i be your first member? yknow, to match the first streak XD Streamer(Y/N): LOL sure!

SheepyWolf23 doesn't respond. You read your message again. Did it sound mean? It is kind of dry. You shake your head. People exist outside of you. Perhaps they became busy.

You finish your meal and return to your dorm. Your eyes skim the bedroom. Although you had decorated it to become somewhere cozy, the room unexpectedly feels solemn. You grab your laptop and sit at your desk to begin making the server. Eyes flicker to your phone. You tap it once or twice, but the screen is blank save for your background and the time.

Once the server is finished, you immediately message SheepyWolf23 about it. You go about random activities until a ping! sounds from across the room an hour later. You sprint over and unlock your phone as fast as lightning.

SheepyWolf23: thanks for the invite! um. i know this might be much to add, but would you be comfortable with giving me permissions so i can decorate the server, no offense! it's great, you have the right channels, but i have some experience and think i can make improvements you might like. just give me a theme and i'll do it to your liking!

Admittedly, you did the bare minimum that you guessed a streamer might need in a server. You were more focused on finishing to send the invite to SheepyWolf23. Their offer was generous, but it'd be bad if their permissions affected you negatively. Well, you were the owner. You have the power to remove someone's permissions.

Streamer(Y/N): that would be nice. are you able to finish it tonight? SheepyWolf23: if i get started now, i can have it done by 11:30pm sharp. Streamer(Y/N): awesome! i'll send a reference photo of the type of style i wish for the server to have. most of all, i want it to be a friendly & safe place for subscribers to talk in. anyone can join, even nonsubscribers.

After sending the photo, you spend the day doing chores while waiting in anticipation. Your steps have a beat, and you let happy music echo throughout the room.

SheepyWolf23 sends a message of his completion just as you settle into bed. You check the server and are amazed. The titles of the channels are decorated, the channels are more organized, and they've even added a few of their own: Rules, Clip Dump, and Suggestions.

Streamer(Y/N): wow! thank you so much again for helping me. i'm so lucky to have your attention! Streamer(Y/N): oops, that kind of sounds strange haha SheepyWolf23: XD NOOO, it's alright dw! i appreciate it a lot! i just thought i'd help since i have some experience with marketing and streamers is all

Oh. So you weren't the only one they've worked with? That's definitely benefit your...career? Or was it a hobby? It'd probably have to wait until you actually make a livable wage to call it a career. You never thought about going beyond posting clips of your own videos to market yourself, but SheepyWolf23 might know other ways that'd suit your niche of viewers. They might even know of secrets and tricks to the platform you're on.

A question pops into your mind. You lick your lips, wondering if this is even a concern you should bring up at all. Searching for an answer online was fine, but personal guidance just felt more....considerate. You give in.

Streamer(Y/N): i have a question that might sound a bit personal for a streamer to ask. you don't have to do anything for me, but i'd like some advice if you're willing to share

SheepyWolf23: i'll try to help as much as i can. what do you wanna know? Streamer(Y/N): someone brought to my attention that a person left an unsavory comment about my body in a YooTube video. i know people saying things you don't like is part of streaming, but i want to know how to deal with my discomfort. i want to avoid blocking people from my streams as much as possible, though SheepyWolf23: hm. tbh part of dealing with it is exposure, but i know that sucks. how abt this: in exchange for helping you this far, i can be your (first!!!) moderator. i don't intend to do anything sketchy with the position. this way, i can remove chat privileges from users and make your stream flow easier

Streamer(Y/N): omg yes please! can i message you before my next stream to give you the permissions you need? SheepyWolf23: of curse! SheepyWolf23: of course* SheepyWolf23: im gonna head to bed. getting kind of sleepy and gotta work tmrow. take care, Streamer(Y/N)! Streamer(Y/N): goodnight SheepyWolf! thank you again for helping me, sleep well!

You shut off your phone, drop your phone to your chest, and squeal while kicking feet in the air. You got your first moderator, and you didn't have to make a posting! SheepyWolf23 is so kind to not only return to you but also be your companion. It wouldn't be so professional to become friends with them, but just the thought sends electricity through your body.

A yawn escapes your lips. You close your eyes and daydream about becoming part of the Top 10 Streamers on the internet. There would never be a need for you to clock in during early hours. Rarely will you have to hear the screech of an alarm. You'd live a double life: a student by day and an entertainer by night. People would laugh at your jokes, tune into your gameplay with friends and family, and mourn when you'd go on break. You would be on stage to receive an award for your performance, and you'd wipe a tear while thanking the fans that made it possible. A party would conclude the ceremony. Your favorite streamers would approach you with glasses of wine and congratulate your success. One or two would ask for your phone number. The group would clink glasses and cheers.

Once the party simmers down, you'd gather your items and head for the door. A person lacking physical characteristics would approach you and take your hand to whisk you into their--your--shared car.

The day kisses you farewell.

──────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────────────

In a house far away from where your campus, a man older than you by only two years hugs his phone close to his chest in bed. He stares at his DMs on CommLines, a streaming platform he's all too familiar with. Euphoria rushes through his veins as he reads a message his newfound favorite streamer had sent.

Streamer(Y/N): wow! thank you so much again for helping me. i'm so lucky to have your attention!

He's received thanks before, but it's never been phrased like that. He didn't think he really needed to help with anything since you already had his attention because of your success journey. It isn't that much different from other streamers, admittedly, but it was different enough in the mere fact that HE was your number one.

He screenshots the message and adds it into his Hidden photo album. Your words are a blessing to poor him, who's been needing to find more enjoyment in his boring life.

He'll need to be careful not to take anymore overtime work. Your streaming schedule wasn't set yet, and he wasn't planning on missing one moment.

Not when your career was in his care.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writerscommunity #x y/n #x reader #reader insert #female reader #y/n #yandere male #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x darling #streaming #part 1 #parasocial relationships

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concerningwolves · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! Do you have any tips for breaking writers block when you're adhd and/or autistic? Be it your own tips or a link to another post? My friend and I need help haha

Ahh sorry you got buried under spam and old ask game asks. (I... really need to sort my ask box >.<' ). But here we go, a month late, and hopefully better late than never:

Quick ideas for beating writer's block when autistic and/or ADHD

I've got this old post I wrote on writer's block and focus troubles. Ironically, this was before my autism diagnosis but the tips still happen to be things I, an autistic person, did to manage writing when faced with executive dysfunction (except I didn't know what executive dysfunction was at that point lol). I'm linking this with one important caveat, though: if you have ADHD, "stepping away" might do more harm than good; struggling to start tasks is a Big Thing with ADHD, so not starting the task at all is entirely counterproductive. (Unless you're in burnout! Here's a post about the differences between block and burnout with some ideas on what to do for each, in case that's at all helpful to you).

And here's something yoinked from another old ask-answer:

sometimes a break from more “serious” writing is what you need. Maybe try and take the characters from your main project and drop them somewhere else for the hell of it. I like to throw my characters into the MCU without warning like “lmao have fun in a strange modern world where there are gods and a guy in an iron flying suit bye.” Or, if fandom cross-overs aren’t your thing, find a writing prompt or take an idea you like and use it to form a short story with your characters instead.

Some other ideas I've seen around for writer's block with ADHD/Autism are:

Try voice recording or text to speech (i.e., absolute stream-of-consciousness unfiltered brain-to-mouth, giving yourself permission to 100% bullshit if you like, and see what rattles loose in the brain box)

Stream of consciousness writing in general, not even necessarily about a particular prompt or particular project. This one can be done in combination with:

Writing sprints! One minute timers, two minute timers, five minutes – set it for as long as you want, but when you're fighting executive dysfunction and/or difficulty focusing, the burst of urgency that comes from a shorter timer is very helpful.

And speaking of the sense of urgency: gamify your writing! There are different ways to do this, with varying elements of risk. I'll link some ways to do this at the end under "resources".

Exercise. I don't necessarily mean hitting the gym, but a quick burst of exercise prior to writing to get the heart rate up can help wake your brain up a bit. (Or, if you find repetitive exercise mind-numbingly boring like I do, the writing sure does start to look appealing lol).

Meditation. Okay, this one is sort of 🤔 for me, because I do often hear from fellow autistics and our ADHD cousins that meditation is literally impossible for us. It is for me. But! Like with exercise above, if meditation bores you instead of helping relax and ""clear your mind"", you can probably use that boredom to your advantage. Or, it might work as intended.

Change your workspace/situation/routine. Sometimes the problem is that you need new sensory input, or that your brain has gotten thoroughly bored and decided not to tell you. Use a different chair. Move to the kitchen table. Write at a different time of day. Have a different snack (or try having a snack while writing...). Basically, look at what you're currently trying, and see how you can do it differently.

It's also really good practise to get comfortable with Being Bad At Writing. Perfectionism and Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria are the biggest, meanest brain weasels with the sharpest teeth. Don't let them bully you. It sucks. It takes a lot of time and effort and internal work, which is why I was loathe to include this on a post of quick solutions, but. It is important.

And getting comfortable with this doesn't necessarily mean learning how to accept critique, or accepting that sometimes you'll write things that suck. It means accepting that sometimes you won't handle critique or feedback well, and also accepting that you won't always manage to beat the writer's block or be productive. Sometimes you have to make peace with the fact that you're going to feel horrible, feel your feelings, and try to remind yourself on the other side that none of it means you're a talentless hack.

Resources

Anything with a 🪙 next to it is paid only (I've tried to limit these and find alternatives).

The resources are split into things that "gameify" writing (i.e., hack your dopamine/serotonin in ways that reaaaaallly help autistic and ADHD folks), writing programs that are designed to help you focus, writing programs that track your habits and appeal to the "ohhhh numbers going up" brain, focus-aiding apps, and some miscellaneous stuff. Under the cut to save your dashes.

"Gamifying" your writing:

The Most Dangerous Writing App – You can't stop typing before your set timer runs out, or you risk losing your work. Excellent for warming up, stream-of-consciousness, or if you're feeling reckless, working on your actual project. I did a lot of the second draft of When Dealing with Wolves on this thing (it was terrifying yet highly effective).

Written? Kitten! – Get rewarded for meeting your set writing wordcount with kitten pictures. Haven't used this one personally, but heard wonderful things about it.

4TheWords 🪙 – This one gamifies writing in the most literal sense. As in, it's an online game where you defeat monsters, explore and level up by writing words. I did the free trial a couple years back, and I've heard there are a lot of different ways you can lower the subscription cost. The only reason I haven't gone back to it is because I feel like I can't justify spending money on it when I'm doing fine with Scrivener and free resources, but maybe one day I will purely for the fun factor...

StimuWrite – similar idea to Written Kitten; the app provides visual/audio stimulation while you write, which is great for many ADHD-ers and autistics. There's a progress bar, soundscape options, typing effects and emoji reactions as rewards, among other features.

Write or Die – This is The Most Dangerous Writing App meets Written Kitten. As far as I can figure out, the basic web version is free to use; you can set the parameters like how how long you want to write for, how many words to reach, and whether you want rewards for meeting goals or punishments for failing to meet them. There's also a stimulus mode, where the nice auditory stimulus goes away if you stop writing.

Minimalist/Focus writing programs:

Focus Writer [Windows] – thoroughly stripped-down minimalist word processor. As far as I know, it has basic functions like find-replace, but mostly it's designed only for writing. Not for formatting, spellchecking or editing.

iA Writer 🪙 [iOS] – Similar to Focus Writer, it's designed to fill your screen with a simple workspace. Allows you to use markdown formatting, and has a feature called Focus Mode that blurs out everything except the sentence you're typing. (If I could find a Windows-friendly alternative to this with that same feature I would be so happy). A cheaper alternative is 1Writer, but that doesn't have the focus mode.

Typewrite Something – Absolutely bare minimum web-based typewriter simulator. Basically just a blank screen that you start typing on, and the words appear in a typewriter font. Great for stream-of-consciousness without the risk level of TMDWA because you can't backspace. If you don't like the clacky sound, turn off your volume.

Focus Apps

Cold Turkey – Block applications and websites on your laptop/computer for a specified period of time. You can even block the entire internet.

Forest – Similar to Cold Turkey in that it stops you from seeking distractions or getting distracted. Set a timer and the app starts growing a tree. If you leave the app, the tree dies. Once you have a tree, you add it to your forest.

Habit-building writing programs:

Novlr – Simple, minimal layout, and tracks your writing goals per month and day, and your daily streak. There are more features in the plus and pro versions, and you can only have five projects in the free version, but otherwise it looks like a good free alternative to the next two programs:

750 Words 🪙 – Made for free writing, but also very useful for drafting. I had it for a month or so a while back on the free trial. It tracks writing streaks and gives you fun graphs and statistics at the end of each session, including number of distractions, actual typing time vs total time and average words per minute. Also, it analyses the mood of what you wrote, which I always found delightful.

Writing Analytics 🪙 – If writing streaks, badges and analytical graphs get your dopamine going, then I really recommend this one. The writing screen itself is very minimalistic, but it still shows your writing speed (I loved watching that go up) and your goal progress. In terms of analytics, it tracks a LOT of different things, including time spent writing vs revising, average wordcounts per day/month/year, and words written vs words deleted. I used this for about a year before I switched to Scrivener, and the switch was purely because I needed something that wasn't subscription-based. (Apparently since I stopped using it there's also a new feature that lets you create private writing rooms and see other writer's progress).

Misc.

WriteTrack – Not a word processor, but it has very good tools for tracking and planning your writing. Again, if graphs going up helps your brain, this is excellent, but you can't see it in real time.

10 ADHD-friendly brain tricks for writers – what it says on the tin: ten tips for writers with ADHD; I'm particularly fond of "Put away one knife", which breaks the nebulous task of "start writing" into something really simple like just... pull out your desk chair.

#autism stuff #adhd #writer's block #writing advice #writing resources

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metaldeputy · 1 year ago

Text

Layover in North Dakota by littlebitofkeery

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson/Gator Tillman Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Timelines, Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Stranger things meets Fargo, No Fargo spoilers, Gator Tillman - Freeform, steddie, Lots of Sex, all the sex, did I mention there’s sex?, Gator Tillman is a little unhinged, Post-Vecna (Stranger Things), Not Beta Read, Lust at First Sight, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Love Confessions, Threesome - M/M/M

Summary:

The crossover that a very select group of people will look for, I’m here to serve 😉 This fic ignores the timelines of both shows involved, meets somewhere in the middle of the two. Eddie Munson needs to get the fuck away from Hawkins. He has survived a near death experience, has been acquitted of the murder charges brought against him, has had maybe the toughest six months of his life. But the cherry on top of the mountain of shit, the straw that finally broke the camels back, was Steve Harrington getting a girlfriend. Pathetic as it is, Eddie could handle the monsters, the lynch mob, the nearly being eaten alive. But he could not handle seeing Steve with someone else. With $500 of government hush money in his glove compartment, he bids the party and uncle Wayne goodbye. Tells them he needs a break from Hawkins for a while. Tells them he will be back but he doesn’t know when exactly. Steve hugs him, holds him, tells him he gets it, tells him he wishes he didn’t have to go.

Short little blurb under the cut!

He leans in close to Gator, whispers in his ear “you wanna escort me to my chambers, Deputy?” The flirting has been cranked up to 100 because Eddie wants this guy. This fucking, pretty-eyed-Steve Harrington lookin’-bad boy- potential-psychopath with the Metallica shirt.. who’s also a.. basically, a Cop? What a heady mixture, Eddie’s dick is already half chubbed beneath his ripped jeans. Truth is, he hasn’t fucked anyone in seven long months. Too busy pining like a pathetic prick for the straight guy back home to even attempt to get his dick wet. Well, that ends tonight. He’s gonna dick this guy down so fucking good he’ll be walking with a limp for a good while after. Gator tilts his head, their faces now mere inches apart. His eyes are even more incredible this close up. “Well now, what kinda Deputy would I be if I let ya wander these strange streets all by yourself huh?” He murmurs, wetting his bottom lip before biting it into his mouth.

#we weren't able to find this author here on tumblr #if you know their url or twitter handle let us know!#metaldeputy #steddie #eddie munson x gator tillman #steve harrington x eddie munson #gator tillman x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #gator tillman #crossover #stranger things #st #fargo #fargo s5 #crossover au #stranger things x fargo crossover #munman

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cassxro · 1 year ago

Text

Cassian SFW Alphabet

✨ Characters - Cassian x reader

✨ Rating - Mature (even though this is a SFW alphabet there is still some NSFW content. Minors do not interact please.)

✨ Genders/Pronouns - Slight gendered part (AFAB) under S

✨ Based off this template

✨ Characters belong to SJM

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He is ALWAYS touch you. Always has to be holding your hand (or ass) or if he can’t do that he’ll wrap a wing around you. Always loving up on you, kissing you, cuddling you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I think it would be difficult for him to start and maintain a friendship with you if you didn’t want a relationship with him. It would be very difficult for him to keep his emotions at bay but if he could only have you as a friend he would pick that 100 times over losing you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Oh it is cuddles galore when you are with Cassian. His favourite way to cuddle is you both being on your sides facing each other and he wraps both his arms and wings around you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

If you are his mate he would take cues from you. He’d be happy to be married, mated and having children like 1 month into the relationship. But if that’s not what you want he’s happy to go at whatever pace you need.

All you need to do is bat your eyelashes at him and he’ll be in the kitchen with an apron on preparing your breakfast for you and making a list of things he needs to do around the house while you’re out 😂. You have domesticated the shit out of him.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If you’re his mate he would never break up with you. If you were a sneaky link or just casual he would probably just ghost you 💀. If there were an emotional connection between you two though he would let you down gently and still want to be friends.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Like I said before, he’s ready to go within the month, within the hour really. He is completely whipped.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, a giant teddy bear. Emotionally, the gentlest.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugging you wherever, whenever. Cassian gives the best and biggest bear hugs. He would wrap his wings around you too.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He would definitely just blurt it out. You would be doing the silliest thing making him laugh and it would just slip out.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

SO fucking jealous. Even after the mating frenzy if a anyone so much as looks in your direction he’s ready to punch on. Definitely likes to fuck it out though.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He’d be so gentle, would hold you close and run his hands all over your body as he kisses you. Other than your lips he loves to kiss your cheek or your hair. He likes to be kissed on his cheeks as well.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He would be so good with children, always playing with them and making them laugh. Teaches Illyrian children how to fight and fly. Every time you see him with children it just melts your heart, you know he would be the greatest father and you tell him that.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

We all know he’s up at the ass crack of dawn ready to train, but once he’s mated to you? People have to drag him out of bed. All he wants to do is cuddle (and fuck) the morning away with you. Definitely cooks for you and if you have to go anywhere, he trails you like a lost puppy and tries to convince you to back to bed with him.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Always either cooks for you or with you, whichever you prefer because what you want, you get (according to him). Dinner would be followed by cuddling on the couch watching a movie and when you go for a shower and get ready for bed, he does all his (your) skincare with you as well as his hair care routine.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s an open book when it comes to you, he never wants to keep things from you. He would always take cues from you and reveal things about himself at your pace.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He would get fired up pretty easily during a fight. All he wants is what’s best for you and your relationship and if you’re being ‘difficult’ he can have trouble controlling his emotions.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Oh he remembers everything. He sees you at a bar one night and you order your favourite drink, years later when you two are on your first date he orders you that exact drink. Every little thing you share with him he cherishes.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favourite memory is of you telling him you love him for the first time. I don’t think Cassian hears it very often from many people and to hear it from you, so genuine your heart could burst, it means the world to him.

If you two have children his favourite memory would be watching you become a parent.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

You know how Rhys was with Feyre when she was pregnant? Well that’s nothing compared to how protective Cassian is on a good day. Whether you’re pregnant, in the middle of the mating frenzy, or it’s just a random Wednesday, if someone so much as looks at you sideways Cassian has his sword out ready to defend your honour.

The first time you speak up for Cassian he is in awe. His whole life he has had to fend for himself and more importantly, defend others. To be on the receiving end of it gets him pretty choked up.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Cassian is the kind of guy to celebrate a 2 week anniversary. He also probably follows the 2:2:2 rule, every 2 weeks you have a date night, every 2 months you go away together for the weekend and every 2 years you go away together for the week.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He snores. For sure. Could rattle the entire house. He’s tried every remedy there is with no luck and has accepted this.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not too concerned. He’s trains all day everyday, he know’s he has a good body and definitely uses it to his advantage when it comes to you. But his body doesn’t bother him that much, it’s his hair where the real work comes in. He has a very strict hair care routine that he follows twice a day, everyday. Even Rhysand thinks it’s a little much.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Oh absolutely not. As his mate he has waited centuries for you, spent his whole life having visions and knowing that you were out in the universe somewhere waiting for him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He LOVES movies (modern hc). When you start dating he compiles a list of “must see” movies and forces you to watch them with him. Even though he watches you the entire time and not the movie.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

If you weren’t his mate that would be enough to do it. I don’t think anything could turn him off about his mate. He’s helplessly in love.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

SNORES. All. The. Time. Besides snoring, he cannot and will not sleep without you. Always has to be holding you throughout the night. If you get up or roll away from him, he wakes.

#cassian #cassian acotar #cassian imagine #cassian x you #cassian x reader #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames #sjm books #sjmaas #sjm #maasverse #sarah j maas

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skykashi · 1 year ago

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Interest check because I'm trying to figure out a way for me and my cat to not starve to death.

Rant under the cut

Basically I work as an international advisor in a British company which only handles British customers, they specifically hire people from my country because it's a 3rd world country and would be cheap labor and because they know that we won't find any other or better job because of our county's current economic crisis. My entire part-time salary is from $100 to $135 a month which is like, nothing compared to what the British employees who work in the same company doing much less work than me get. My department which only ppl from my country are assigned to, handles 89 queries while all the other departments that only British and Indian employees are assigned to handle from 10 to 20 queries, when we get any system outages which happens quite often, British and Indian employees don't take calls because they can't work without a system, while they force us to take calls just to tell the customers "sorry, we currently have a system outage" and we would be just like punching bags for the frustrated customers that would be upset when we tell them sorry I can't do anything to help you because I have no system at the moment and then to top it off, they don't remove any negative impact such calls during system outages leaves on our performance so we wouldn't get our target bonus and they would end up paying us even less. Not to mention the sneaky ways they force us to work unpaid overtime without really saying it, as we are required to submit a note after every call stating everything happened on the calls without leaving any small details while not having enough time between the calls to type them as sometimes we would just have 2 minutes between every call and sometimes the calls would be back to back without a single second, and we're not allowed to take any time without calls outside of our scheduled breaks either which forces us to type these notes during our breaks and after our shifts. And all of this is just the short version of things, there are so many more messed up things that I left off to avoid having even a longer post.

Anyway, I used to work a full-time shift in that company but I couldn't take 9 hours a day of such stress especially that our department handles (accounts management + complaints + billing) hence why we handle such a huge amount of queries in comparison to other departments so most of the calls I get would be angry customers just yelling which resulted in a huge decline in my mental health, especially that I already suffer from depression, anxiety and a bunch of other stuff so I decided to switch to part time before I completely lose my mind especially after I used to spend the entire day just crying, having panic attacks in the morning the closer my shift start time approaches sometimes and having nightmares so many nights + the rate of my PTSD flashbacks of some traumatic events of things happened to me in the past increased dramatically so I ended up switching to part time and things were kinda manageable, my part-time salary was barley enough for basic living expenses but it was better than having to live that nightmare 9 hours a day plus the extra time I would have to spend after shifts typing notes. But today, I went to work and I was surprised that they switched me back to a full time shift starting tomorrow, they have been threatening me with it for quite sometime now, basically saying that as a graduate it's unreasonable for me to have a part time shift and that only students are allowed to take part time shifts because they need it for studying and I would always reply by telling them that having a part-time shift is the only thing that keeps me going and that I won't be able to continue working if they switched me back to full time. So allegedly!!.. because last month I didn't achieve the target which was basically due to the company having 3 major system outages that only our department (aka Egyptians) had to take calls during it, I don't deserve to have the exception of having a part time now, even tho almost everyone in our department didn't achieve the target for the same reason so yeah, it's now either I go back to working a full time shift of that nightmare which I'm absolutely sure that I won't be able to survive or I resign because they aren't even giving me any time to think or try to find something eles.

So I'm just trying to figure out how to survive basically if I resigned and this is why I'm posting this interest check, so please only choose "yes" if you think you might be interested in commissioning me if I made a post with more details and prices.

#interest check #my art #sky draws

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cbk1000 · 8 months ago

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And part three. (Final part; sorry this is so long: it has been a fucking long four months.)

No problem, Doctor Dipshit, I guess I'll just do your job and continue treating myself.

After my period ends, my heart rate drops again. It's still not as low as it should be, but it's much better. I continue to gradually improve. It's not a linear process; some days are better than others, but I never feel as bad as I did at the beginning of all this. My main issue is really my heart rate at this point; I'm no longer dizzy, I don't have the extreme weakness I had, my nausea is gone, I'm sleeping much better, and I'm a lot less tired than I was even before all this started. But the high heart rate keeps me still mostly bedbound, and I'm gnashing my teeth, because at this point I feel well enough to be mad about it, instead of just lying in bed trying to stave off death.

I finally start turning a corner, almost three months into taking supplements. My heart rate is consistently lower; even my last period wasn't as rough. (I felt a little worse than I had been, but my heart rate didn't spike, and I mostly just felt more run down than I normally would during my period.)

Over the last couple of weeks, I've been able to sit and stand and walk around for much longer, and I was finally, after months, able to start writing again. My heart rate is still a bit higher than it should be, and I have chest pain and tightness that radiates into my throat (it almost feels like an asthma attack) if I exert myself too much, but I can sit up for a good couple, few hours at a time, then lie down for a few minutes till those symptoms improve, and then get back up again. It is more exhausting to do things because of this, but I still, honestly, feel less tired than when I was a fully functioning, 'normal' person, and I've noticed that the horrible, frequent anxiety attacks I was having multiple times a week, out of nowhere, with no trigger, haven't happened since I started supplementing. I have been stressed, of course, but not baselessly anxious. Apparently iron deficiency can cause or worsen anxiety, so the anxiety I was having for the last couple of years that I attributed to all the changes at work, and how generally stressful the world has been, was also likely related to this.

Today, three and a half months after starting iron supplements, I'm writing this sitting up at my computer. I have some chest pain, but right now it's more of an annoyance than anything, and I can push through for a while before I'll need to lie down for a bit. The last week I have been able to write 27,000 words, animatedly play a video game I'm into at the moment (I shout a lot when I play), take Seamus outside multiple times a day while Mr. Jenn is at work (albeit for very short walks around the backyard, but still), edit, and concentrate on my reading. I can now sit out and eat dinner at our countertop and visit with Mr. Jenn. I spend more time up now than I do in bed. Tomorrow I have a doctor's appointment with a non-lunatic, and will hopefully be able to get medical clearance to finally return to work (Mr. Jenn and I have rigged up my desk so that I can recline and still see my monitors and work if I need more than my allotted breaks to rest) and an order for an iron infusion to get me the rest of the way more quickly. It has been the longest four months of my life. I have felt trapped in my own body. There were points during that constant back and forth of regressing a bit, improving a bit, regressing a bit, that I was afraid I would be stuck like that forever. I've had enough of consistently being on my feet day after day over the last few weeks that, while I'm not yet at 100% and know it will still probably be a while before I am, I know I will be, eventually. I actually feel confident in that now.

What I mean to say with these three very long-winded posts is, please do not ignore what your body is telling you. I wrote off the extreme fatigue, and anxiety, and burning and tingling I was feeling in my legs and feet as poor sleep, the world going to shit, muscle strain, etc. etc. That was my body trying to tell me something was really wrong. I did not know these were symptoms of iron deficiency; and not everyone gets them, and not everyone gets such severe symptoms that their entire body shuts down and confines them to bed for months: but there was something wrong with me, probably for years, and I ignored that, and wrote it off, because the symptoms were non-specific, and I'd lived with them for so long that I normalized them. If you are having any of these symptoms, especially fatigue, especially if you're menstruating, and especially especially if most of your iron sources aren't from meat, please get an iron panel done. Not your CBC; that will only tell you if your hemoglobin is ok, and I can tell you, as exhibit A, that just because your hemoglobin is normal, does not mean you don't have iron deficiency. B12 deficiency will cause some of these same symptoms as well, so if you're vegetarian, definitely get that checked as well.

The only reason I was able to put two and two together was because I had had similar cardiac issues after a blood donation, when it was easy to go, "Wait, I think you bled too much; let's put some iron back in you." I don't want to think about how long I might have been stuck like this getting booted from specialist to specialist with no one thinking to check my iron levels because my hemoglobin was normal. If you do not have enough of this one single mineral in your body, it can literally be debilitating. I work a desk job from home; I have been out of work for four months now because I haven't even been able to sit up at a desk. I actually ran out of legally-protected medical leave a month ago and am just lucky that my employer wants to keep me enough that they were willing to put me on personal leave until I was ready to come back.

Anyway, that is my extremely long update. I sincerely appreciate everyone who has checked in on me and asked how I'm doing.

#personal

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hongherbac · 6 months ago

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[Serizawa centric] The Humanity of S&S - Chapter 2

Read it on AO3

Chapter: 2/6

Fandom: モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100 Rating: General Audiences

Non-Romantic Relationships: Seirizawa Katsuya & Reigen Arataka & Dimple

Summary: The new student talked to Serizawa, but the atmosphere was a bit subtle.

CW: gaslighting

Chapter 2

At the end of the night school, there was no anticipation or vitality, or any sense of freedom after a long confined day, as there would be at a regular day school. The moon was already high in the sky, and the lights were out in most parts of the campus. The classroom was like a tiny flame barely holding on in the darkness. The teacher stood at the door, watching the adult students move outside slowly before locking the door.

Rather than students after school, they looked more like a bunch of employees who finished working overtime. After being buried in hard work all day, they finally had a moment to rest, only to realize that the day was almost over.

"Hey, Serizawa-san." Ito called out.

Serizawa stopped packing, a bit surprised. He did take Reigen's advice of "caring for the new students" in mind throughout the night, only to find that Ito was surrounded by the classmates all the time. From the beginning of classes, to the end of each break, everyone was always around him, calling out "President Ito" this and "President Ito" that, as if they had known each other for their whole lives.

Being naive and socially inexperienced, Serizawa didn't see the utilitarian intent of this enthusiasm. He only thought that Ito was particularly popular, and probably didn't need his help. Besides, he was a little put off by the positive atmosphere there, so he didn't talk to Ito the whole night. Instead, Ito approached him.

"Ito-san, what can I do for you?"

"We're having a drink nearby. Would you like to join us?" Ito said kindly. Several students behind him murmured disapprovingly, and one even tried to hold him back. Come on, stop. Why invite him? It's weird. Then someone said something, and they let out a barely suppressed, clearly malicious laughter.

"Forget it. Serizawa doesn't drink. He's boring." said someone.

Another one said, "Let's just go. It's your welcome party!"

"That's right. I'll treat everyone to celebrate Ito-san's arrival! Don't forget to return the favor one day, okay? Hahaha, just kidding, of course."

Ito ignored them, looking at Serizawa, "So, not a drinker, right?"

"Huh?"

"I know there's a good coffee shop nearby. In that case, you don't have to worry about alcohol or a hangover." Ito stared at him. His expression was still mild, but his eyes conveyed a very different message. Confident and dominant, refused to accept any denial, "What do you say, Serizawa-san? You will come with me, won't you?"

He couldn't help but agree. However, for some reason, Serizawa felt like he had no choice at all.

Serizawa Katsuya, who locked himself in the bedroom for fifteen years. During his teenage years, when one's self-identity and peer relationships were rapidly developing, he curled up in a small, dark, depressing room. For so many years, he had no experience of real interaction with others. The only thing he had was his mother's worried, tearful face. Ironically, this resulted in an extreme lack of ability to ‘read the room’.

His classmates, on the other hand, were mostly seasoned working adults who knew how to euphemize and package themselves. They expressed their likes and dislikes in much more subtle ways than teenagers.

Combined with the situations, during his few months of night school, he didn't even realize it.

The fact that he was hated by many of his classmates.

It was not really surprising. Human nature has its dark side inherently. No matter what organization it was, people tended to identify the weakest, seeing them as aliens, and degrading them in order to build their self-esteem and a sense of belonging. Serizawa was a mild person. Naïve or simply dull, he would accept everything without complaint, even if bullied. Moreover, he was always easily flustered and overly polite, which made him a pain in the ass for some people.

People didn't need a reason to hate someone, but they always rationalized their behavior. Most of the night school students were forced to give up their studies due to health conditions or financial problems. They fought hard to get here. In their opinion, just being "maladjusted" wasn't an excuse to be stuck at home, unproductive, totally dependent on your mother's money and care. What an enviable waste.

Fortunately or not, Serizawa knew nothing of the above.

Therefore, when Ito dismissed the other students and chose to go out with him alone, Serizawa didn't think much about it, only that Ito's behavior was a little different from the others.

"Ito-san, you just moved here. How's everything going?"

"Well, the layout of the city is very well planned. It is designed with the most modern concepts, and the public facilities work well. It's a bit strange to say, but the city has really been reborn after the massive damage caused by that monster tornado."

"It's amazing that Ito-san noticed these things. I never did."

"After all, I came here with an investigative mindset, so of course I had to look closely." Ito smiled slightly. He still wore his white shirt. His short hair was sleek and styled with gel, giving him the look of a professional businessman. It was hard to tell his age from his appearance. "I heard that Serizawa-san had stayed at home for a long time."

"Yes." Serizawa couldn't help but drop his eyes, his shoulders shrinking a little, "I was lucky enough to meet some people, and it was only with their help that I was finally able to get out of the room."

"I envy you, having the luxury of doing nothing for fifteen years."

Huh? Serizawa felt like his heart had missed a beat. But Ito's expression was still so kind. Was it an illusion?

"I would love to take a break, but I guess I was born with a strong drive. I always feel that I have to keep my life full and make the most of my time to grow. With society progressing so fast, if you don't keep up with it, you'll be left behind and never be able to get back on your feet again, won't you?

"Y-Yes…"

"But fortunately, Serizawa, you've already moved on from that irresponsible state," Ito said. "If I thought about wasting so much time like a useless person, I would have been too ashamed to even show my face again. It's really brave of Serizawa-san to make a fresh start."

"Yes, I want to make up for the past as much as possible…"

"What kind of work are you doing? Your choices must be quite limited without a high school diploma."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself yet." Serizawa hurriedly took out the business card that Reigen had printed for him, handed it over with both hands, "My name is Serizawa Katsuya, and I'm currently working at Reigen-san's Spirits and Such Consultation Office… Well, I'm more of an intern. Compared to my senpai, I still have a lot to learn."

Ito leaned over and took the card, scrutinizing it closely. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking back and forth between the card and Serizawa's expression. If he hadn't heard about Serizawa's reputation, he would have left the table in rage, thinking that he was being played for a fool. However, according to others' descriptions, Serizawa didn't seem like the type to make such a joke, and at the moment, he looked as natural as if he had just handed out a perfectly normal company business card.

"Is this some kind of hikikomori humor?"

"Eh? What?"

Ito was silent, looking at the business card again thoughtfully. When he looked up again, his eyes were different. Serizawa couldn't quite see what it was. It wasn't hostile, but it sent a shiver down his spine. It was as if the eyes were piercing.

"Serizawa, don't you see? It's a religious fraud."

Only then did he realize, "Oh, no, no, it’s not! Reigen-san is really dedicated to helping others. Ah, but I can understand, Ito-san hasn't been exposed to this kind of thing, so you might find it a little weird…"

"Anyone who is 'normal' would find it weird." Ito emphasized, with a sharp tone.

Serizawa felt something strange, as if something bitter was welling up in his body.

"I see… Is that what everyone thinks? I'm sorry, there are many things I don't quite understand."

"Well, after all, you've been out of society for fifteen years. You can't help it."

Ito let out a breath.

"Let's be honest, Serizawa. I'm very good at reading people. I can tell a person's personality and talents just by the smallest gesture, and then place them in the most suitable position to maximize their potential 100%. That's why I'm so successful in running my business. It's not that I'm particularly outstanding, but because I know how to identify and utilize the best people.

"Serizawa, although we have only met two days ago, I can see that you are very capable, very talented, and very hardworking. If you're put in the right place, you're sure to make something of yourself. Your problem, however, is that you're too naïve all the time, and you just lack the ability to think independently. You believe whatever others say. This makes you too easy to manipulate."

Faced with such blunt criticism, Serizawa stiffened and unconsciously clenched his fists.

"Indeed, if it was my previous job, you're right. I was so eager to get out of the room that I held on to anything without considering my own feelings. But now I'm different--"

"You mean your previous job? What job was that?"

"Well, uh, the President's dream was to conquer the world."

"And then?"

"Because he hurt so many people and caused so much trouble, he's now serving a sentence under government supervision," Serizawa said, his voice trailing off, "But he did help me a lot, and that will never change. It was only then that I realized my mistake. Later, Reigen-san approached me and gave me a chance to use my power to contribute something to society. What I do now is based on my own judgment--"

"So, what I'm saying is, your own judgment is completely a MESS!" Ito tapped his fingers heavily on the desk, raised his voice impatiently, "All this time, you were just being used, weren't you?"

Serizawa froze. Suddenly he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Stop doing those strange things anymore, Serizawa." Ito softened his tone, as if he was trying to lure a troublesome child, "Come work for me. I know how to use you, and I'll pay you well! I'll set up a branch in Seasoning City. You won't even have to move. You'll live in the same neighborhood, go to the same school as you do now. You'll just have to change the workplace. Do yourself a favor. Make the right choice for yourself. What do you say?"

Serizawa didn't notice that he was drenched in cold sweat. He said dazedly, "I'll think about it…"

That night, Serizawa was sleepless.

The past appeared like a phantom. The dark room in his old home. President Suzuki. Umbrella. "Claw". Kageyama-san. Spirits and Such. Exorcism. Floating in and out of consciousness, then vanishing once again. It was like the transparent worms that would appear in the eyes if staring at a plain wall for too long. When one tried to concentrate, they kept sneaking out of the center of vision, hiding themselves into the corners.

Memories had no fixed shape. They were more like a jellyfish, swimming weakly and slowly, being swept away by the current, shaped by a greater force, kneading, twisting and turning with each other. In the end, no one could remember what they looked like originally.

Half asleep, he suddenly realized what Ito's piercing eyes were really about.

That was mercy.

#fanfic #fanfiction #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #ao3 #archive of our own #serizawa katsuya

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xoxobuckybarnes · 2 years ago

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April 2023 Stucky Fics

Completed

rough edges (Rated: M, Words: 33K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace & burning_brighter / @burning-brighter

Summary: Olympic ice dancers Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have never gotten along. Closeted Steve is in a showmance with his partner Maria as America’s sweethearts, while Bucky and Natasha are the lethal Russian pair whose technical mastery on ice is unrivaled. Now they will all be traveling around America on the Stars on Ice tour for the next two months, which sets Steve on edge in ways he didn’t quite expect.— A collaboration for Stucky Bang 2022

Chase the Lightning From the Sky (Rated: E, Words: 39K) by SilverSlashes / @silverslashes & art by TrishArgh / @frau-argh

Summary: If Bucky has to be stuck doing this ridiculous summer work program before his senior year of college, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, then at least he’s got a hot as hell cowboy for a boss and host. Steve Rogers, owner of the Truth & Justice Ranch, is what Bucky’s completely theoretical but very imaginative bisexual fantasies are made of. Steve’s a widower though, and a nice guy in need of help, and no doubt 100% straight… so Bucky’s gonna work his ass off and keep his head down. But neither Bucky nor Steve are prepared for the friendship that forms between them as they work side by side. And they certainly aren’t expecting the budding feelings, confessions, and passions that summer heat and the loneliness of the great open plains stirs in each of them. What rages to life between them will shake each man to his core and will linger long after the storms and the summer have passed.

Love Is the Most Important Thing in the World (But Baseball is Pretty Good, Too) (Rated: E, Words: 6K) by Kellyscams / @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

Summary: Once upon a time ago, Steve Rogers was inseparable from his best friend and teammate James "Bucky" Barnes. All of that changed one eventful night near the end of their high school career when Steve kissed Bucky. Tonight, Steve must face Bucky in what just might be the turning point in his minor league career. Bucky's no doubt going to get his call up to the Majors. But if Steve can't face this one batter that's haunted him since high school... he might never catch his break. Does Steve have what it takes to strike his rival out? Or will he only ever see Bucky Barnes, the boy he's loved since high school, sixty-feet away from him?

We Kissed Back Then (Rated: T, Words: 5K) by vespertineflora

Summary: In recovering his past, Bucky stumbles upon certain memories he once thought he'd always leave buried: like the fact that Steve and he had kissed as children, as teens, as adults... They'd been in love far longer than he'd realized.

Coming Out to the Ball Game (Rated: M, Words: 14K) by TheLostWeasley

Summary: Bucky is the new stat hitter on the Hydras. Steve is a seasoned pitcher on the Avengers. Naturally, they start having sex. The baseball au that literally nobody asked for.

On Thin Ice (Rated: E, Words: 36K) by wintersoldier1989

Summary: Steve Rogers is skilled on the ice but needs all the help he can get in the classroom. Bucky Barnes agrees to help his cousin’s friend get his grades up and in the end both guys get more than they bargained for.

Happy Accidents (Rated E, Words: 32K) by controlofwhatido / @controlofwhatido & art by auntiesuze

Summary: Bucky sleeps with one superhero one time and now he’s pregnant. Fuck. Good going, James B. Barnes. One unmated omega father, coming right up. Top that off with his metal arm and he’s really going to be an outcast.

between everything, yourself, and home (Rated: E, words: 24K) by napricot

Summary: “This is your home?” asks Bucky at one point. “It’s where I’m living now, yeah.” Bucky comes home. Steve's a little slower on the uptake.

Knife Skills (Rated: 5, Words: 72K) by Hark_bananas / @harkbananas

Summary: The money he'd stolen from Hydra has almost run out when he finds a black piece of card stock with blocky capital letters stapled to a telephone pole: FUNNEL NO. 9 DO YOU HAVE KNIFE SKILLS? WE NEED YOU And then below, there's a phone number. Knife skills? I have knife skills, he thinks. That part is pretty self-explanatory, though he has no idea what Funnel No. 9 could mean. He doesn't really want to get back into the hitman business, but needs must, and Bucky Barnes is a practical man.

I’ll always find my way back (to you) (Rated: T, Words: 4K) by burning_brighter / @burning-brighter

Summary: When Steve reappears on the platform after returning the Stones, he can tell something went wrong. Not only is he alone in the woods, he's also back in his old body. He has many questions, but the only thing he really wants is to make his way back to Bucky.

just our hands clasped so tight (Rated: T, Words: 8K) by Stella959

Summary: The countdown has already begun, and there's less than thirty seconds before this year's Hunger Games begin. Steve has to decide quickly what, if anything, he’s going to grab before he makes a run for it. The tributes are spread out in a circle around the cornucopia, and he can just make out Bucky on the far side. They make eye contact briefly before his gaze returns to the arena. There. A circular metal shield, almost completely hidden in the tall grass maybe ten feet in, propped up on a backpack so that the curved edge just barely sticks up. Steve remembers picking up a similar shield in the Training Center on their first full day in the Capitol: lighter than he’d expected but with a sharpened edge, optimal for defense but not without offensive use. As the final seconds of the countdown pass, Steve thinks that if there can only be one victor, he'll do whatever he can to make sure it's Bucky. Across the field, Bucky's thinking the same thing. If there can only be one victor, he'll do whatever he can to make sure it's Steve.

5 times Bucky and Steve were Unnaturally Comfortable Around Each Other, and the 1 Time They Weren’t (Rated: M, Words: 5K) by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot

Summary: "Steve gently tosses his book to the side and then places his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, kneading thoroughly against the impressively tense muscles. Bucky sighs, his eyes falling shut and mouth dropping open in a mixture of slight pain but mostly relief. “Oh fuck,” he groans, leaning into the touch. Clint snickers quietly, trying to busy himself with pouring milk into a bowl of cereal before one of his trademark sarcastic comments can escape him and make the situation more awkward than it’s already quickly becoming. "OR: Five times Steve and Bucky should have been uncomfortable but weren't, so Tony and Clint devise a plan to prove that they're sleeping together (even though they aren't, they're just really really oblivious).

A Higher Epsilon (Rated: E, Words: 91K) by deadto27 / @deadto27

Summary: Bucky has always wanted a dog. Now finally he has one and it’s everything he wanted and more. It opens up his life in ways he never expected. He especially didn’t expect to meet Steve at the dog park. He didn’t expect they’d become friends. He really didn’t expect that they’d be dating. Unfortunately nobody’s clued Bucky in to that last part. ----- He feels frozen in panic. It’s their second day together and he’s lost her. He’s lost his dog. He’s spiraling until suddenly there’s a little yip noise and Bucky snaps his head up to see his dog in front of him, in the arms of someone else. “Ohmygod,” he hisses out in pure relief, breathing hard. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved in all his life. “Is this your dog?” the owner of the arms asks.

WIP

a league of their own (Rated: E, Current Words: 18K) by burning_brighter / @burning-brighter

Summary: Steve’s sixteen-year-old son’s one and only dream is to play in the Major League. He thinks he has a shot when the team get a new coach, retired MLB legend and Steve’s high school crush, Bucky Barnes. Steve hasn’t thought of the man in many years, but seeing him brings back many memories that push Steve to reach out to an old friend and maybe make new ones on the way. What happens when Steve gets to know Bucky properly? What happens when they open up about their darkest secrets and deepest fears? There’s really only one thing that can happen.

Treading Water (Rated: M, Current Words: 114K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace & art by Dyslexic_Fetus / @reagy-jay

Summary: Olympic swimmer Bucky Barnes always believed that when the time came to retire, he would walk away with his medals and world records firmly in the history books and never look back. He never thought the water would leave him first.

***Part of the series Lane Lines: Lane Lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K), Lumière (Rated: M, Words: 5K), & New Traditions (Rated: M, Words: 6K)***

Rereads

Full Count (Rated: M, Words: 50K) by Ink_Dancer

Summary: Full Count: a baseball term referring to a situation during a player’s at bat where there are three balls and two strikes on him. As this is the maximum one can have without either walking (base on balls) or striking out, this is generally expected to be a very stressful situation for both the pitcher and the batter. The pitch that is then thrown on this count is expected to be the one that decides the batter’s fate, and carries with it a certain expectation of change. It’s known as the payoff pitch: it’s the payoff for a long wait. or: a stucky au that takes place in the world of Major League Baseball, in which Bucky is a catcher, Steve is a closing pitcher, and their lives are stuck in a perpetual full count—until life throws the payoff pitch and they end up on the same Dodgers team.

The Run and Go (Rated: E, Words: 14K) by lupus (khaleeseas) / @biharley

Summary: When Bucky Barnes first meets Steve Rogers, Bucky's standing half-naked in their apartment complex's laundry room. It's 2 a.m. on a Friday night (or is it considered a Saturday morning?) and for once Bucky is way too sober for all of this. The next thing Bucky knows, Steve is everywhere. Being hot and sarcastic and nice and overall perfect and Bucky is kind of totally and completely screwed.

#Stucky #Steve and Bucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #fanfic #XOXOBUCKYBARNES' Stucky Fic Reading List #april reading list

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cupoftaae · 2 years ago

Text

Forever And A Day (KTH x READER) series ♡ fondness (chapter 16)

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

word count- 5-6k

warnings- swearing, mentions of miscarriage, tae is sad sad, kaito is back, drinking, um i think thats all? lmk if not!

a/n- Lovies!! hi i hope ur all doing good. Im trying to write a lot more because i literally just quit my current job (they treated me like shit) after 2 months. Im applying to so many places rn but in the meantime im having fun giving my tumblr a little luv <3 also apologies for any mispellings, I had read over my previous chapters and cringed at some of the words I spelled wrong. I have been learning english for years now but apparently its still not to a 100, oh well! Anyways, please enjoy! -Nini <3

"I had my suspicions"

You blushed, eyes down on your water bottle as you sat in your childhood bed again, your mother sat comfortable at the end of it as you both talked.

You arrived back home around 2am yesterday, and to say that you already felt a little better was an understatement.

"you did?" you mumbled as your mother nodded, smiling.

"when you came to visit a while ago, I saw a lot of touchiness" she giggled "but I minded my business"

"ah this is embarrassing" your hands flew to cover your face, now knowing your own mother knew about your relationship before you could say anything.

"no, I dont think so" she hummed, looking at the carpet. "I just know when a boy is in love, i remember your father-"

you inhaled sharply at her words, biting your lip and looking away.

"-...he would always look at me like I was the center of the universe"

You stayed quite for a moment before speaking up softly, "what happened?"

She smiled sadly, "he chose a different life, and I resented him for so long, but I accept it for what it was, and now that I have..I feel like im free to live again. And thats what you need to do, accept it, accept whats happened." she whispered, calming voice infiltrating the bedroom at such a late hour of the night.

Your eyes met hers, a glimmer of love was bright enough to see through her dark brown orbs. You nodded as she began to speak again,

"Taehyung and you.....I always knew it would happen" she giggled, "I remember once you guys hit middle school, and the moment I caught you sneaking into my closet for makeup before he came over to play video games-"

"oh god, stop" you blush, shaking your head

"it was cute even if you wouldnt admit it" your mother waved her arm at you.

You hummed, crossing your arms over your chest as you got lost in thought.

"so, how is he taking everything?"

"taehyung?"

she nods, eyes burning a laser into yours.

"well...i dont know" your answer was honest as she sat up.

"what do you mean?"

You sighed once more before speaking, "he and I kinda argued before I left paris...im an asshole mom" you offered a sad laugh, looking down. "im an asshole...because, I got mad at him for trying to help"

She tilted her head, listening, "Im sure he just wanted to be there for you, he was hurting as much as you"

"i know, and thats the thing mama...but I just needed to be alone and away....and he got mad when I expressed it...its not like we are married" you roll your eyes

she giggles, "I understand my dove, but listen" she grabbed your hands, "things like this happen all the time, we cant run away from our loved ones when life gets bad. What happened between you both was terrible, and im so sorry sweetheart" she whispered, your own eyes getting a bit misty, "but running back home isnt gonna do anything"

You nodded before smiling, "I came here because its comforting, you're comforting.....now you're scolding me?" your voice had humor.

She laughed, "you are a 23 year old woman, I cant control your actions, like whether you stayed with Taehyung or came back to me, however I can tell you my opinion, and if your decision was right or wrong, not trying to guilt you, just being a mom"

You nod slowly, fidgeting with the heating pad sitting on your stomach to help ease the lasting cramps that only served as a painful reminder.

"you make your own choices hun, but...let me ask you this, do you love him?" she whispered

Your eyes shot up at her, your heart singing with sadness yet love.

"....yeah.." you whispered so quietly it was barley heard. "yeah I do" you couldnt help but begin to cry as she wrapped you into her arms.

A mothers loving embrace.

It could heal all, and this is exactly why you came back.

"You find comfort here, but as you get older, you need to find comfort in new things." your mother began, " life is scary, but its all about changing. Without change, life would be rather boring, huh?" her hands ran up and down your back as your face rested on her shoulder. "Taehyung has been here forever, youve grown together, but these new feelings? they offer new experiences,...amazing ones too. Im sure he loves you just as much, thats why he let you go..." she whispered, "but my dear, you have to fight through the darkness to find the prize, to find why you had the connection at all"

You were full on Niagara falls into your mothers sweater. Her words provided insight, but as well as pain. You shouldnt have left him behind, it was wrong, and you hoped he understood.

you realized that you were your fathers daughter, and not just in DNA. Your first instinct was to run away from your loved ones, run away from family when they would give you everything.

You were becoming your father.

And you hated how much you still loved that man even if he left you. and you hate that you take after him in such painful ways.

But most of all...you hate how you didn't even see it happening.

"shh" your mother cooed, holding you as she rocked back and forth slowly. "my child, life will settle, but you need to find your way, and if thats with him, you need to tell him"

"i know" you whispered, wiping your eyes as you clutched the tiny bear you packed.

The bear.

Fuck, you wish you didnt bring it in your suitecase.

It was the teddy bear taehyung bought the day after finding out you were pregnant, The perfectly placed initial on the middle that always made you remember he thought of you as a Kim, as well, even if you werent married.

It was a reminder he wanted you in any way he could grasp you.

As a girlfriend, a mother to his child, eventually a wife, but always....always his best friend in life.

Your mother looked down at the bear, smiling. "y/n..."

"hm?" you mumbled, leaning back as she put your hair behind your ears.

"im so sorry this happened to you" her voice was quiet again, "you would have been a beautiful mother....and if you decide to have kids in the future, thats exactly what youll be"

You nod sadly, "thank you...."

It was quiet for a moment before she spoke up again, "when I was in my twenties, your father and I decided to try and have another child..we saw how you clung to your pre-school friends and called them your sisters" she chuckled "so we thought maybe another baby would be good. Well- I got pregnant right before your 4th birthday" her voice choked softly as you watched, this being news to you.

"unfortunately I, too, had lost it" she teared up explaining the situation. "it was one of the most painful things I ever went through....but looking back at it" she smiled at you gently, rubbing your back, "im so greatful"

"grateful?" you whispered, in shock

"I had you, my little best friend whos always stuck by me even in the worse situations...you never had to fight for my attention, we were always together"

You wiped her tears as you smiled sadly, agreeing.

"and you have always been more than enough." she mumbled, "so my love, I guess the lesson here is...that once you learn to accept it and know the situation for what it is.....you'll heal"

You hugged her tightly as her words struck your chest with a great force.

She was right, whether you liked her advice or not, shes been through exactly what you have, and if she can make it out and be such a wise, resilient woman today, than you can too.

But you'll be damned if its in the steps of your father.

Later after she went to bed, you were left alone, the covers up to your neck as the tv played some old school tv show that only got airtime in the late hours of the night.

You found your hand resting on top of your stomach as you laid calmly. You had to acknowledge it to get past it. "im not pregnant anymore..." you whispered, feeling an overwhelming sadness fulfill you. Your eyes drew down to your hand as you rubbed your stomach, feeling a bit stupid at what you were doing.

taking a few deep breathes, you opened your eyes and looked up at the ceiling, "its okay to be sad....its okay to cry" you remind yourself aloud, voice quiet and shaky, "but I can heal....its not my fault" you nod, tears falling for the millionth time within the past few days.

You were exhausted, mentally and physically, but after tonight you feel like perhaps you made a breakthrough, you were proud of yourself even if it was just a baby step.

You turned over in bed to look at your phone, the time was 3:55 am, yikes.

You barley had time to register it before the lock screen caught your attention, now all you could think about is how Taehyung was feeling.

"why are you already back?"

"dude just give me my fish and dog so I can go" Taehyung mumbled, standing at the front of his friend Jin's apartment.

He laughed and turned away for a moment before returning with Hae swimming around in his tiny tank, the packet of food wedged underneath jins chin. "here"

Taehyung took the bowl and the food, nodding "thanks..."

"mhm" he smiled, "so wheres Y/N? The last thing you posted was a photo of her standing on the edge of some fountain, did you push her into it?" he snorted, trying to be light hearted with his friend.

"no shes just, busy I guess" he shrugged, trying to leave quickly, "wheres yeontan?"

Jin looked behind him and picked up the small dog, putting the leash on him securely before handing it to taehyung, who took it with his free hand.

"thanks for not killing my pets and taking care of them, even if it was probably Stephanie who did everything" taehyung referred to Jin's wife, who stood behind him with a wide grin of acknowledgment. "i'll see ya" he nodded before turning down the hall to leave, Yeontan leading the way on his leash.

Taehyung walked on the sidewalk, his feet finding the familiar path to his own apartment.

He left Paris a day and half after you did, only communicating with you through occasional texts that left much to the imagination when it came to how you were doing.

He unlocked the door and walked in, wincing at how messy you two left it before leaving. His hands gently put Hae down on the kitchen counter as he began to pick laundry up, tossing them into a ball and making a mental note to do a washing load this weekend.

Tae checked his phone for any sign of you, frowning when he was met with 0 notifications.

Would it be wrong to call you? he didnt know anymore, things felt awkward...you left with no closure or definitive answer on what was okay or what crossed the boundaries.

It definitely felt uneasy being alone in the apartment, he missed your loud laughing, and the good food you always made for him.

He even missed when you would force him to watch shitty reality shows with you because it meant he got to cuddle with you on the couch for a few hours.

The rumbling sound of his stomach knocked him out of his head as he turned to the kitchen. There wasnt much, other than a few now rotten bananas sitting on the counter.

His hand gripped the fridge handle as his eyes were met with an ultrasound photo hung up by a hello kitty magnet, it felt like salt was poured into his wound...his hand slid off the handle. he wasnt hungry anymore.

Beside the photo was doctors reports hung up for upcoming appointments and reminders.

This upcoming weekend was supposed to be the gender reveal. Deep down Taehyung didnt care if it was a boy or girl, but not that he'd be having neither, it felt more upsetting.

It was a reminder of something that he might never get to experience with you.

He found his way to the kitchen counter, sitting in the quiet room as yeontans tiny pitter-patter paws echoed through the apartment wood flooring.

Taehyungs eyes were drawn to hae, the tiny yellow fish swimming around in his spongebob tank, a toy pineapple placed perfectly in the center for him. For some reason he teared up.

suddenly he felt the urge to hear from you, but he felt selfish for doing so. You should be the one to reach out, right?

He didnt know anymore.

"oh hae....I miss mama" he sighed, leaning down to rest his head in his crossed arms over the table.

"are you gonna just sit in bed?" your mothers voice echoed into your room, the lights were off and the curtains were closed as two large blankets covered your body....it was noon.

"I'll get out soon"

She shook her head, leaning against the door frame "Hun, I need to go shopping, I need to know you are up and alive before I leave you here alone"

Reluctantly you sat up, wiping your sleepy eyes as nostalgia from high school mornings hit you.

"there she is!" your mom cheered, directing her cat to follow over to you as she turned to leave.

You smiled at it as you stretch, "hi baby" your voice cooed before turning over and unhooking your phone from the charger

2 notifications

"oh" you mumbled, quickly unlocking it and going to your texts. You wish it was Taehyung, unfortunately it wasnt...

Kaito: hey, I know this is sort of inappropriate to text you like this, I get it, but I cannot stop thinking about you. I cant stop thinking about the baby. Can we please talk about maybe getting a paternity test?

you frowned, petting the cat as she climbed into your lap

kaito: and I know btw that you dont want me to be the father figure, which is fine. Ive taken time to understand that...however i need to know if its mine, I cant live without knowing y/n. please call or text.

Oh thats just great, another person you had to break the news to.

Your mother came back down the hall, knocking on the door frame "so are you coming or not? im leaving" she smiled

"I'll stay here, thanks though mama, hows your back?"

She waved her hand in dismissal "oh im fine honey, I got my brace"

You smiled sympathetically as she turned to leave, knowing she was probably lying about the pain.

Shes always been stubborn, thats where you get it from.

After getting cleaned up a bit, you made your way outside to sit on the front deck, propping your phone up as you sit in the rocking chair. Were you really about to facetime Kaito?

....guess so...

After a few rings, you began to feel the tightness in your chest...the anticipation...the nervousness...

"hello?" his voice echoed through your ears, for some odd reason you felt like crying already.

"hey....are you at work?"

"on break" he smiled softly, eyes looking into yours through the phone screen. It felt odd to sit here on call with him, you havent done it since you both had been dating.

"so..."

He sat down, propping the phone up against a wall as he watched you, making it clear he was ready to talk. "listen, please understand this isnt me trying to make my way back into your life"

You nod, picking at the skin around your fingernails.

"I just want to know if its mine is all, I mean, I figured theres a chance it is, no? so this is warranted right? i dont want to seem pushy...."

You sigh, looking at him, "um, well I called you because I wanted to discuss everything"

"what do you mean?" his head tilted softly

"kaito, I uh, I lost the baby" you said aloud, nodding as you did so. In some way, the words left your mouth a lot easier than just a few days prior.

You were knee-deep in the healing process

"oh." was all he responded, his face appearing confused and unsure, "you lost the...baby?"

"miscarriage" you add, "it happened a few days ago, I never had the chance to tell whether it was yours or taehyungs"

He frowned, "y/n, im sorry"

"dont apologize its fine, im fine"

"god...."he ran his hands over his face, obviously deeply upset by the news.

"its okay" you assured again as he watched you for a moment,

"do you think it was mine? genuinely?" he whispered

You shrugged, eyes dragging away from the screen to look at the cars driving past the house "I dont know"

You did, you were 90% sure it was taehyungs, this was decided last night as you carefully calculated the dates between periods, and the breakup vs when you and taehyung got together.

If it was kaitos, that would have meant you were close to being 5-6 months pregnant, and at the time of the miscarriage, you were about 3-4.

regardless, it was still upsetting, and in hindsight, it didnt matter anymore especially when you had to sit and break everything down to your ex.

He sighed again, "how are you managing?" he whispered

"im good, im at my moms house right now"

"wheres taehyung?"

you scoffed slightly, even after telling him the situation he only cared about you and taehyung. "Kaito I called to inform you about the baby and the baby alone, we dont need to discuss my personal life, you dont get to know information that no longer involves you"

He sat watching you for a moment before nodding "okay....sorry?"

"thank you for being understanding during this, and all I ask is that you continue to be respectful to not only me, but taehyung"

He rolled his eyes slightly "okay"

"okay" you repeated, sitting near the phone, "well...thats all I suppose, text me if you have more to discuss on the topic, have a good shift"

with that, you hung up and couldnt help the slight smile that popped up on your face, you finally stuck up for yourself, and taehyung

It felt good.

so good that you almost called taehyung out of instinct.

would he be okay with that?

you decided against it, putting your phone away as you sat back and swayed in the rocking chair.

Taehyung gently creaked open the door of what used to be his bedroom, but was now reserved in the space of a future nursery.

He hadnt been in here in a while, and now as he sets his eyes on it all, he wishes he didnt walk in.

There were boxes of items you ordered online piled up in the corner, he smiled sadly and looked through them.

The crib you bought, he promised he would put it together for you, you were never good at building things, instructions or not.

The thought made him giggle softly as he looked at the other things, the vanity and picture frames. The familiar grief found its way into his chest as he went over and laid on the rug in the center of the room.

It was a lilac purple rug, you picked it out and decided the nursery will be just that color scheme, regardless if it was a girl or not. His fingers weaved through it as he began to cry, eyes scanning over the room that will forever be empty, items put to waste. The small bundle of baby toys that never get to be played with.

He never realized just how much he was hurting, but he had to say not having you at his side made it sting even more.

Yeontan nudged his way into the room and grabbed one of the stuffies, making his skilled exit quickly as taehyung got up

"hey! thats not yours!" he frowned and chased out of the room after the small dog, following him around the living room before running into your room. He gave up and dropped the giraffe by your desk, his tiny legs leading him away to hide.

Taehyung kneeled to pick it up, unable to help the way his eyes scanned over the items on top of your desk.

Unorganized homework for school, binders left open and messy, he smiled a bit at it as he walked over, his arm accidentally pushing some of the books off the side.

"shit" he sighed, leaning down to pick them up.

There was a smaller brown notebook that caught his attention, he didnt want to snoop around your things, but when the front of it says "to my love", its pretty hard to ignore.

He carefully sat on the ground and opened it, feeling wrong for doing so but unable to stop.

The first page was full of your handwriting.

May 11th

so...today I just found out the biggest news of my life. im pregnant, its weird to even write. I just bought this notebook at the flea market because I need to tell someone. Im really scared, and im unsure of what you will think of me. I love you a lot, and I hope I get the chance to gift this to you after all is said and done

suddenly he felt like he was doing something wrong, reading something forbidden.

He scanned over the next page quickly, seeing how you spoke about dedicating this as a future love note for him, a chance to let him see inside your mind.

He tossed it back on top of your desk and sighed softly, he missed you so much and it seems like every second only let that feeling grow.

He wasnt sure what position you two were in, but he loved you dearly, probably a lot more than a person should love another human being.

He hoped you felt the same deep and burning desire.

Thoughts passed into his brain, he realized he was grateful you went through the crazy process of the past few years, in which referred to the friends with benefits situation.

If it never happened, you would have never been this close now.

Little does he know, that miles away from Busan, you laid on the floor of your room too, looking over older texts between the two of you and giggling

even if it was about groceries, or a small message asking him to pick you up from class, it made you smile.

Taehyung and your mom have been the only ones that you can say have never left you, the only ones who are there when you need them.

were you going to let him go over something that can be talked over and fixed?

you looked out the window and silently spoke,

"i'll see you soon”

Going back to your old doctor in Gwangju was an odd experience, you had too have been no older than 18 the last time you visited her.

“It seems that everything is going smoothly, and you said you’ve stopped bleeding?”

You nod, fidgeting with the gown you put on as the doctor wrote down everything.

“Your tests seem good, i would say you are coming along healthily after this, which is a good thing, right?” She smiles cheerfully, “do you have any questions for me?”

You shrug, looking up at her “I don’t really know”

She sighed and sat down “y/n, what you went through would be hard on anyone. You are so young and you already are stressed with work and college, and this being thrown on top had to have been difficult right?”

You nod, resting your head in your palm.

“Do you think seeing a therapist would be helpful to you?” She asked sweetly

You quickly sat up “well…im going back to Busan eventually and-”

“I can contact your doctor in Busan and have them find you a therapist”

You sighed deeply, therapy was something you never really considered. Would it help? Maybe. But bottom line was that you never liked discussing your problems, you have always been closed off and the thought of being vulnerable with some stranger is terrifying.

“Look y/n, I’ll send your doctor a note and you can discuss it with her once you go back, how about that?”

You nod reluctantly “okay….”

Once you arrived back with your mother at the house, she began to cook something up for lunch as you laid on the couch, cuddling the cat.

She purred in your lap, making you smile.

"how was the appointment?" your mom spoke from the kitchen, peaking over to you as her hands chopped veggies up on a cutting board.

"well...It was fine I suppose"

"just fine?" she smiled, adjusting her glasses, "did she say anything bad?"

"no, no, nothing bad, but just...she wants me to do this therapy thing and I just-"

"oh that sounds like a good plan...I think therapy would be beneficial"

You sigh, looking down at the cat, "well I probably wont be doing it so..yeah"

She stopped cutting, looking over at you "and why is that?"

You simply shrug in reply

"you know theres nothing wrong in getting help...right?"

"yeah but im not sure im ready to go talk to someone yet"

She laughed softly, "thats when you should talk to someone, when you are unsure, get it out before its all locked up"

sitting up a bit, you look back at her, "I guess, I dont know, we will see...."

Your eyes returned back to the tv in front of you as your mother continued to create a meal for the two of you. As a mom, she felt defeated, she knew the other alternative here but knowing you, the reaction may be less than ideal.

The last thing she wants to do is interfere with your current situation, but hey.....

what is a mom if she isn't nosey?

taglist!-

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @borahaexoxo @lelefoodlover @tan-veee

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schat-cats · 2 months ago

Text

I took a hot break after drawing way too many pictures a few months ago, so for the new year I’m going to draw way too many more pictures.

- Graphic novel. I’m still learning how to do this, so it’s gonna be a while, especially since this is more of an excercise in “I know a general idea of where I want this story to go, so lets improvise it one page at a time” kind of thing. I want to get at least one short story out of it before the year ends. Here’s the first page.

- Magic the Gathering. For a long time I was told that MTG was Satans card game; I’m older now, and because of how expensive they are, I now know this is true (see picture). Doesn’t stop me from playing them though, so I’m determined to draw my own personal art for each card in a 100 card EDH deck I’m building. This would cut the cost down from having to purchase individual cards ($300+) to whatever it’ll cost to print them off at staples ($20 tops?).

- COMMISIONS. I’d like to start commissions again. If you want a sticker I’ll draw you a sticker. If you want a custom MTG deck like I’m making myself, I’ll do that but will take ages and probably cost a lot more than a sticker. Just shoot me a message if you want something. I’m working on a rates sheet for pricing and stuff.

Let’s see what 2025 has in store.

#art commisions #drawing #mtg art #edh #cats #digital art #crosshatching #black and white #graphic novel

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keepsdeathhiscourt · 7 months ago

Text

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Story Summary: It's been ten years since Lucie LeMarche last set foot in New Orleans. But when she's forced to return to bury the woman who raised her, she finds herself pulled into the midst of rising supernatural tensions in the city. Entangled in a web of intrigue and seeking answers, Lucie must learn to navigate a powder keg of warring factions, family secrets, and old wounds if she hopes to survive.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Language, Death, Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Family Drama, Gore, Depictions of Violence, Death

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter 18: Ghosts

The streetlights pass in a blur of yellow and orange. All the while, the manila folder screams at her from the passenger seat. Cami resists the urge to reach across and inspect the contents. Maybe this time, she’ll find something she missed, some key element telling her she was wrong and her tired brain was playing a trick on her all the times before. But she knows to her core that there is no mistake, and if she were to run her hands over the soft black-and-white photo for the thousandth time, she would find the same thing:

The 1919 Picayune clipping of Marcel smiling in front of the New Orleans Opera House with none other than Klaus Mikaelson.

It should be impossible, but there’s no mistaking the high cheekbones, the smirking mouth, and even dressed in spats and a tailored jacket. His cocky swagger is the same.

The first time she saw it was rough. Her stomach bounced against her ribcage and her ears rang. She hadn’t wanted to believe it. Yet it made a strange sort of sense --absolutely bat shit insane-- but sense all the same. And for the first time in months, she felt relief buried beneath the confusion and fear. The missing chunks of time, her and Sean’s code on sheets of notebook paper that she never remembered drawing- she isn’t sure how, but it has to connect back to this.

Cami resists the urge to bounce her leg as she waits for the light to turn, fingers drumming against the wheel. Tired of obsessing over this alone, she’d left her Kenner apartment, throwing a coat on over her pajamas, and was on her way into the city before she could think things through. Now, adrenaline fading and making space for reason, she doubts.

What do you say in this kind of situation?

Hey, Lucie. I know it’s 3 am, but remember that British guy from the bar? Well, I’m pretty sure he’s over 100 years old.

She shakes her head, tapping the accelerator when the light turns green. There isn’t time for second thoughts. She isn’t about to spend the rest of the night on her couch in a paranoid stupor. Maybe Lucie will call her a basket-case then they can laugh it off and watch something mindless on TV.

Her breathing is mostly back to normal by the time she pulls up to the curb behind a red sports car she doesn’t recognize. She tucks the folder under her arm and heads for the porch. The air is humid. It makes her shirt cling to her stomach and the dew-damp grass tickles her ankles.

The rough planks of the porch groan when she reaches the top of the stairs. She can hear voices from inside, muffled by the door, and she hesitates. It never occurred to her that Lucie might not be alone. She was too much of an introvert for a party. A silhouette passes in front of the living room window, a blurry shape behind the curtains. It could be a man, but she’d never mentioned she was seeing anyone…

Maybe she should come back in the morning. Uncle Kieran might still be at the church--

A woman shouts, the sound almost drowned out by breaking glass and a thud hard enough to shake the windows.

Every true crime documentary she’s ever seen tells her she should call the police and let them handle it. Instead, she turns the knob and, finding the door unlocked, she throws her weight into it. The hinges groan as it opens wide. There’s no knife-wielding maniac on the other end, no robber in a ski mask, and no amount of crime drama could prepare her for what’s waiting beyond the threshold.

The first thing she sees is Lucie’s face, mouth slack, and eyes round with shock. She follows the curve of her tear-streaked cheeks, the bloody mess of her neck. With a little cry, Cami steps forward, halting when she catches movement behind her.

Broken glass and tattered wallpaper litter the hallway, like someone let a wild bear loose. Instead, she finds Klaus’ sister running faster than any living thing has any business moving. All she can do is stand there stunned as she grabs a man by the collar and slams him into a wall with enough force to break the drywall.

When shifts, Cami gets her first glimpse of Elijah. His eyes are frantic, hair disheveled, but her eyes lock on the bloody mess of his shirt, the red around his mouth, and the gleaming, monstrous fangs within. Something primal in the back of her head screams at her to run, but her knees are shaking and her feet won’t budge.

She staggers sideways, catching the door frame for balance, and chokes out, “What the hell is going on here?”

Three sets of eyes find her. Rebekah throws Elijah to the ground like he’s only a sack of flour, holding him in place with a foot to the chest. Her mussed hair is a ragged halo in the hallway's light.

She rolls her eyes, tossing her head. “Oh, for the love of--“

Elijah seizes her momentary distraction, hand wrapping around her ankle. Before he can pull her over, she plucks up a broken table leg and pierces through his chest in one fluid motion. He goes limp, dead on the floor. This time Cami does scream.

“Keep an eye on this one,” she tells Lucie, unbothered by her brother’s fresh corpse. “I’ll take care of this.”

Cami winces as Rebekah moves towards her, only to be stopped when Lucie grasps her wrist with a frantic, “No! Don’t.” It earns her a withering look. “She should know the truth.”

The house falls quiet as the two women exchange a look that Cami can’t even decipher. Then, Rebekah steps back with a gesture that can only mean ‘Fine, but this is on you,’ before dragging Elijah by the ankle into a back room.

Lucie turns to her and for a long while, neither of them says anything. Cami can’t seem to slow her racing thoughts enough to grasp a coherent thought, and Lucie seems focused on gnawing a hole through her bottom lip.

There’s a loud thump from somewhere toward the back of the house. It breaks the spell.

“Let’s talk in the living room,” Lucie says, tiptoeing around shards of glass to press the front door closed. Her hand trembles when she grasps one of Cami’s, who allows herself to be guided through an archway and onto a rich, patterned couch.

She pulls a pillow to her chest. Something about the warmth or the plush fabric smashes open the dam and she laughs, a breathy, choked noise from deep in her chest. Is this it? Is she about to snap?

The cushions dip as Lucie sits down beside her. She hadn’t even noticed her slip out of the room, but now she has a damp towel pressed to combat the gore on her neck. It does nothing to soothe Cami’s frayed nerves.

Her eyes fix on a landscape painting on the far wall, the oil strokes warping as her vision clouds over. She doesn’t realize she’s hyperventilating until Lucie says, “Take slow breaths like this.”

She demonstrates, sucking a lungful of air through her nose and then releasing it out of her mouth. Cami copies the motion, sloppy at first, and then more steady with each repetition until she feels less like passing out.

“What the fuck just happened? Why are you bleeding? Why is Elijah Mikaelson dead on your floor?—“The words, once free, stop coming, picking up velocity.

“Cami!” Lucie says, voice sharp, as she squeezes her hand. “Breathe.”

So she does.

“I’m going to tell you everything, alright? But I can’t do that if you faint on me.”

She shifts her hands into her lap, remembering the folder under her arm for the first time since she walked through the door. Setting it on the coffee table, she turns to Lucie with an exaggerated breath.

“First things first, Elijah is going to be fine—”

“—But I just watched Rebekah stab him in the chest—”

“—Because he’s a vampire.”

Cami loses her train of thought, jaw slack. Her mouth snaps shut, and she shakes her head. “Vampires? Whatever joke this is, it’s not funny.” But even as she says it, something falls into place, like the last stitch pulling the whole tapestry together. Her eyes dart towards the folder.

“Trust me, I wish I was joking,” Lucie says, playing with her fingers. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, body angled to face her. “There’s a lot you don’t know about New Orleans, Cami.”

----

She watches the servants set the dining table with fine silver and priceless china and all the while, Hayley resists an urge to be sick which has nothing to do with morning sickness. It’s been less than a week since Tyler Lockwood snatched her off the front porch and dragged her out into the bayou in some half-cooked scheme to get back at Klaus --as if he’d ever let any hybrids sired by someone other than himself live. After Klaus had run him off, staying at the manor was off the table.

She doesn’t dislike the Abattoir itself, even though it smells damp and you could hear a pin drop in the courtyard. It’s blessedly cooler here, the stucco walls built to keep out the heat, and she has to admit that the balconies are perfect for watching the sunset over the French Quarter. No, it’s not the compound, but its revolving door of inhabitants that set her teeth on edge.

She reaches for a glass of water, the other hand resting against her expanding belly. All the while, she keeps a sidelong look at the small army of vampires gathered around the table. Two chairs to her right is Marcel and beside him is his newest right-hand man, the one they call Diego. Her eyes narrow when he catches her staring, dark eyes full of calculation. She isn’t sure how much Klaus has told them about her and their miracle baby, but, then again, she doubts it matters.

Diego breaks the stand-off first when Klaus taps his fork against his wineglass. It’s not until she sees the back of his curly head that she turns to him as well. At the other end of the table, Klaus is on his feet with that smug ‘I have something important to say’ face that Hayley hopes their daughter doesn’t inherit.

“Let us begin with a toast to our shared gift: immortality,” he says, glass held high. “After a thousand years, one might expect life to be less keenly felt, for its beauties and its sorrows do diminish with time. But, as vampires, we feel more deeply than humans could possibly imagine.”

With a gesture, a handful of wait staff step forward, hovering just over the shoulders of the gathered guests. It only takes one look at their identical glassy expressions to know they’ve been compelled. He continues, “Insatiable need, exquisite pain…,” She holds back a wince when each cuts their wrists filling the empty glasses with blood. “Our victories, and our defeats.”

When all the glasses are filled, he lifts his higher. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes lock on Marcel as he says, “To my city, my home again. May the blood never cease to flow…”

Marcel raises his glass with a wide smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “…and the party never end!”

Her eyes drift to Diego. It’s no secret that he resents Klaus’ takeover of the vampire faction, only following orders out of some misguided loyalty to Marcel. She waits to see if he’ll make a scene. Maybe that would liven things up around here, only to be disappointed when he raises his glass and murmurs, “To New Orleans.”

“To New Orleans,” they all refrain, drinking deeply. Hayley sips at her water, wanting nothing more than to shut herself in her room away from all the male posturing. But she knows Klaus well enough to understand that whatever he’s building to, he expects her to be present. She just wishes he’d hurry it up.

“I understand that some of you may have questions regarding the recent change in leadership.” An interesting way to refer to a failed assassination attempt staged by Marcel that led them all under Klaus’ subjugation. “And I invited you here tonight to assure you that you are not defeated. No, my intentions moving forward are to celebrate what we have. What Marcel, in fact, took and built for this community of vampires--

“And what about her?” Diego interrupts, ignoring Klaus’ veiled irritation. “The wolf.”

It’s a fair question, one that Hayley has asked herself more than once. Her own place in Klaus’ best-laid plans is still a mystery, even to her. She turns her head, watching Klaus warily.

“Had you’d let me finish, Diego, you would know that there is, of course, one further matter I would like to address.” Then he’s moving around the table, her stomach doing a backflip as he heads right for her. “As many of you know, the girl is carrying my child. Consequently, I trust you will all pay her the appropriate respect.” Which, to a vampire, is none. “However, I understand that some of you are concerned by this vicious rumor that I intend to use the blood of our child to create hybrids. I assure you, I do not.”

She can’t help the bitter curl of her lips. “Father of the year.”

If he was expecting elation or even relief, he finds none. The vampires spare the odd glance at Marcel before fixing him with a dozen blank, unsettled expressions.

With a dull satisfaction, she notes the way his eyes tighten at the corners and some of the sheen disappears from his grin. “It appears that I will have to earn your trust,” he says with a finality that makes her uneasy. “Very well. We’ll eliminate the root of your anxiety. You see, how can I sire any hybrids if there are no more werewolves alive in the bayou to turn?”

And Hayley’s heart crashes through the floor. “What?” she chokes in horrified disbelief. “Klaus, no!”

She’s only just gotten used to the idea of having family out there and now, to soothe the fears of some motley group of vampires, it’s all slipping through her fingers.

“So eat, drink and be merry,” he commands over the ringing in her ears. “And tomorrow, I suggest you have yourselves a little wolf hunt. Go ahead, have fun. Kill them all!”

The chair screeches in protest as she rises to her feet. She’s heard more than enough. Without a backward glance, she storms out of the room. Not that Klaus notices, he’s far too wrapped up in Marcel and his own blood lust to care.

Her feet lead her up the stairs to the second level, ignoring the exultations coming from below. When she reaches her room, she slams the door behind her hard enough to make the lamp on the dresser shiver. She doesn’t notice, she already has her phone in hand.

If she wants to stop this, she needs someone on the outside. But Elijah doesn’t answer, and neither does Lucie. And so she tries her one last lifeline and almost cries with relief when she hears Rebekah’s voice on the other line.

___

“So let me get this straight, not only are the Mikaelsons vampires but they’re the first ones in existence,” Cami says, once Lucie finishes giving her the thousand-foot overview of all things supernatural in New Orleans.

She’s sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. Across from her, Lucie mirrors her position. “Right, the Originals.”

“And while Marcel and Klaus are playing tug of war with the city, the witches,” That’s going to take some getting used to, “are also angling for control. And the werewolves…?” she trails, pinching her nose to ease some of the pressure building behind her eyes.

“Were banished from the city by Marcel decades ago.”

She groans in frustration, leaning sideways against the couch.

“You’ll catch on. It just takes some time.”

“It would be a lot if I could just remember.” She is still foggy on the details, but she knows enough to understand that what she had been experiencing wasn’t a slow descent into madness, but the effects of mind compulsion--another fun vampire trick. “You’re a witch. Are you sure you can’t just…I don’t know…wiggle your fingers and fix me?”

“Not a very good one.” Lucie’s lips pull into a frown. “I wish it was that easy.”

“When is anything in this town ever simple?” she asks with a laugh, but even she can hear the bitterness creeping in at the edges.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this. By the time I realized you were in the middle of it all, Klaus already had his hooks in you.”

Klaus. The arrogant son of a bitch that toyed with her for his own gain and made a smoothie of her brain. His name alone is enough to make her want to break something. “I’m more sorry that no one thought to tell me,” she snaps, regretting it the second she sees the pained look in Lucie’s eyes. She sighs. “I get it, but just tell me one thing; if you suspected what was going on, why didn’t you do something?”

“What makes you so sure I didn’t?” Lucie says, loaded with meaning.

“What are you—” She gasps when it clicks, fingers tracing the space around her wrist. “You mean the bracelet? How?”

“My great-great grandmother spelled it with vervain, to protect from compulsion.”

She’s quiet for a minute, taking in the new information as she swallows a fresh lump in her throat. “Well,” she starts with a shaky puff of laughter, “Now I really wish I hadn’t lost it.”

Lucie doesn’t respond, only gives her a long look before disappearing into one of the back rooms. She’s back in moments, dropping something cold into Cami’s palm as she sinks back down on the couch.

She uncurls her fingers and finds herself staring at the familiar sun and moon charms. “Where did you find this?”

“Let’s just say I stole it back from the person who stole it.”

“Stolen? But I thought I—fucking Klaus,” she swears. “I’m going to kill that asshole if I ever see him again.”

Lucie laughs, hands resting over her knees. “There might be a line.” It wrangles a chuck from Cami even as her expression turns serious. “I really am sorry you had to find out the way you did.”

She sighs before placing a hand over Lucie’s. “Help me with Klaus and we can call it even. Just keep me in the loop from now on. Deal?”

Her lips curve up in a small smile. “Deal.” Then her face falls once more. “Cami, there’s something else I need to tell you. It’s about Sean.”

---

The pounding in his head is the first thing Elijah is aware of, a persistent thrumming behind the eyes that beats in time with his pulse. His limbs are granite slabs as he raises shaking fingers to his temple. While he works up the courage to open his eyes, he notes the softness of the mattress beneath him, the familiar scent of wisteria, and the faint padding of footsteps somewhere beyond.

Steeling himself, he opens his eyelids. It’s just a crack, but enough for the pale moonlight to slip between the blinds and burn into his retinas with the full force of the sun. He groans, shielding them with the side of his hand. Forcing them wider, he blinks until it doesn’t hurt so much and the surrounding room takes shape. A gray coverlet frames him, and a pile of pillows behind his head props him up. Straight ahead, garments in various shades of black and gray hang from the open closest, the wall around the doors plastered with band posters.

Suddenly, the floral smell makes sense. And if this is the LeMarche home, then he must be in Lucie’s room.

Lucie.

He jolts upright, memories of last night flooding back to him in hazy flashes. Her wide, worried eyes when she found him in the alley. Her fingers had been cool against his burning skin. He remembers the tremor in her voice, the warmth of her presence at his bedside. The events warp and waver, take a darker turn as he recalls her heart pounding beneath her breastbone. The hot, heady elation as her blood pooled in his mouth and overwhelmed his senses.

Shame crashes over him in a tidal wave, remorse as sharp as the stake Rebekah drove through his chest before he could do something he couldn’t take back. He wants to sleep, maybe for a decade, until he’s ready to face her. Instead, he kicks off the covers, staggering to the side like a drunkard when his feet hit the floor. He grasps the edge of the dresser and pauses, glimpsing himself in the mirror.

The creature blinks back at him with red-rimmed eyes. Stubble is a dark shadow around his jaw while the hair at his head sticks up in every direction. He rakes a hand through the errant strands with an absent precision, unable to tear his eyes away from the damning rust-colored stain on his shirt.

He pulls away, following the sounds of life to the front entryway where he finds Lucie, sweeping glass into a dustpan. She does not notice his presence. It’s a chance to watch her undisturbed. As his eyes rake over her slight form, he notes the tired slump of her shoulders, the shadows beneath her eyes, and wonders if she’s been awake this whole time. But any worry over her exhaustion is eclipsed when he sees her neck. Identical bite marks taunt him, red and angry against her skin. His stomach lurches and guilt trickles in, hotter than the fever that had ravaged his system the last two days.

Before he can vanish from her life forever, before he can even begin to make amends, she turns. Whirling around in a flash of russet, she jumps when she spots him, free hand clutching her chest.

“Shit. I didn’t know you were awake,” she whispers. Then, before he can answer, she presses a lip to her finger and, with a glance down the hall, adds, “Cami is asleep in the other room. We can talk outside.”

She leads him back down the hallway and, abandoning the dustpan on the kitchen table, slips out into the backyard. The moon is only a day or two shy of full, so bright that even behind the clouds, its glow casts the withered garden in shades of silver and blue.

Neither of them speaks until they’re down the steps, hovering near the overgrown path that weaves around the garden, the spot where she’d once accepted his deal.

When she turns to him, the moonlight draws the bite mark into sharp relief again. Elijah’s shoulders tense and he shoves his hands into his pockets to curb any misguided attempt to brush his fingers against it. With an exhale, he opens his mouth to speak, but Lucretia beats him to it.

“Before you start whatever ‘I’m a monster speech’ you have on deck, it’s been a long night,” she says, arms folding over her chest. “Yes, you were a dick and scary and it also wasn’t your fault - don’t give me that look, it wasn’t. So can we just skip to the part where I forgive you and you agree to stop looking at me like a kicked puppy?”

For a moment, he says nothing, only watches her carefully. His guilt will not be so easy to abate, neither will the conviction that somehow his entrance into each other’s lives has only made things more complicated than they should be. But there’s no missing the resolve in her stare.

“Very well,” he says. “But in the spirit of negotiation, I’d like to make a counteroffer.” When she raises her eyebrows, he adds, “I will agree to your terms if you allow me to heal you with my blood.”

This time, it’s her turn to regard him silently. Her eyes scan his face and, not for the first time, he wonders what is going on behind those large, guileless eyes.

Her jaw sets in determination. “Alright, fine.”

It’s a quick thing, giving her his blood. He opts to give it to her in a mug retrieved from the kitchen. After his attack, anything more intimate than that seems a step too far. When he returns, it’s with his hand wrapped around the handle and a blanket draped over her arm. He hands her the former, ignoring the skeptical look his way when he tucks the latter over her shoulders.

Her nose wrinkles as she examines the macabre contents. And then, with a deep inhale, she chokes it down in a few quick gulps. To her credit, she doesn’t wince, only wipes at her mouth with her sleeve. And Elijah watches as the wound at her neck fades until it’s as if it never happened, almost. Though it dulls some of the sharper edges of his shame, the bulk of it remains.

“Lucretia, I know I do not have a right to ask any more of you,” he says, unable to endure any more silence. “But in my…state…last night, did I say alarming?”

Her hesitation gives him his answer, but, kind as she is, she does not make him ask for details. “There was a moment you thought I was someone else. You called me ‘Celeste’…” She must catch the way his cheeks heat because she adds, “Nothing too scandalous, I promise.”

He doesn’t miss the waver in her smile, the anxiety lurking in her dark eyes. So he gently prompts, “What else?”

“When I touched you, I saw one of your memories.”

With a catalog of ten centuries at her disposal, he doesn’t guess, only waits in growing apprehension for her to tell him which horrible act of brutality she’d witnessed firsthand.

“A ball at the governor’s mansion. Niklaus was there,” she says. “And Melodia.”

“I see.”

She shifts the knit fabric over her shoulders, pulling around herself and holding it closed with one hand. “I guess it only makes sense you knew each other.”

His head tips up to where the moon is still beaming down from a velvet field of stars. “She was a gifted witch, your progenitor. And good woman.” When he turns his attention earthward, he finds a strange expression on her face. “What’s on your mind?”

Though it’s dark, he swears he spots a flush on her cheeks. “I know it was a long time ago, but were you two…close?”

He furrows his brow, confused. And then, catching her meaning, he can’t help a small bark of laughter. “No, at least not in the way you’re thinking. …It was an alliance built on mutual respect and a common goal.”

She snorts. “Sounds familiar.”

“Perhaps,” he says with a wry smile. “With some notable differences.”

The breeze bats playfully at a loose curl. Elijah watches it flutter about her face as she bites her lip, deep in thought, and resists the urge to tuck it behind her ear. Soon, the impulse fades.

“Elijah,” she starts, so uncertain that he knows beyond a doubt what will follow. That does not stop his breath from hitching when she asks, “Who was he, the boy she mentioned?”

Silence ensues as Elijah debates over how much he wants to tell her. “His name was Cyrus,” he says, adjusting his cuffs. “A member of the Dupin family.”

Her lips pull into a frown, a line forming between her brows. “Dupin? I don’t know that name.”

“That is unsurprising. The Dupins were an ancient magical lineage from the Old World, powerful as they were proud. The boy was the last of their line,” he explains. “He was an orphan when we came to the city, with a vast inheritance and little sense.” Over his shoulder, he gives Lucie a half smile. “Of course, he took a shine to Niklaus.”

“Of course.”

“With his name and connections, he was vital to our integration into New Orleans society, and it was a fact he used to his advantage once he understood who we were. I believe Cyrus always veered toward ambition, but it was under my brother’s tutelage that the truth of his character began to take shape. From Niklaus, he learned to manipulate, to embrace his lust for power, and, in turn, my brother not only benefited from his status and deep pockets, but I believe the boy amused him.”

“Meanwhile, his powers grew with each passing year, until they were such that the elders of the nine covens feared his potential. I soon found myself equally troubled. You see, Cyrus had become obsessed with the immortality that my siblings and I possess, and I soon understood that he meant to obtain it by any means necessary.”

“But Klaus never meant to turn him.”

“No,” he concedes. “He did not. Niklaus strung the boy along with empty promises of siring him. After all, a powerful warlock beholden to no natural tenets or compunctions about morality was a valuable asset. And when the young Dupin heir finally realized that his master would not give him what he wanted, he endeavored to take it for himself. It was New Orleans that paid the price.”

“What happened?”

“I still do not understand the full extent of what he discovered or how he came upon it, only that it was an unnatural magic, the likes of which I’ve only experienced once, when my mother turned us into vampires. But a darkness fell upon the city as an eclipse blotted out the sun for days on end and it was then that Niklaus realized the true extent of his folly. Thankfully, we were not the only ones seeking a way to end his quest for power.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, for once in their storied history, my family and the witches of New Orleans worked together. Melodia LeMarche was the one to perform the rite that separated him from the Ancestral Well.”

“And Cyrus?”

“Severed from the font of his power, he was just as mortal as any human. Niklaus’ retribution was swift. And buried in unconsecrated ground, Melodia banished his spirit to isolation, in a place where he could never join the Ancestors.”

When Lucie shivers, he takes her hands in his. “There’s nothing to fear, Lucretia. Three centuries later, Cyrus is little more than a ghost story, even in my own mind. The ghosts of the past cannot harm anyone now.”

Seemingly placated, she only nods, her attention diverting upward. He follows her line of sight and watches a shadow pass over her features as a cloud covers the moon.

---

It had been an hour since she’d gotten off the phone with Rebekah. And though Hayley had solicited a promise from her she would come soon, she hadn’t specified when that meant. Waiting was an exposed nerve, one that flared up and gave her a nasty shock with each minute that passed.

Hayley Marshall is sick to death of waiting. Waiting for the end of her pregnancy, waiting to learn what fate Klaus has in store for her, and always, always waiting for someone else to come to her aid. It’s enough to drive a weaker person to insanity, but she’s made of steel and fangs and tougher things. And if it means saving the family she never knew she had, she’ll take on every vampire in Louisiana if she has to.

Besides the occasional peel of raucous laughter wafting up from the courtyard, the compound is quiet. Though bedecked with modern electricity, the light that bounces off the deep gray stucco is just enough to see by. A fact that she uses to her advantage as she slips down the stairs, hugging close to the shadows.

It’s a short walk to the side door, her heart hammering in her chest all the while. She doubts Klaus will inflict any serious punishment if she’s caught, at least not to her personally. And with a death sentence hanging over the wolves, there’s not much else he can do to her that matters.

She hazards a glance over her shoulder. When she finds the hallway empty, she steels herself, ready to bolt out the door and into the night. Before she can take a single step, a figure bars her path.

“Going somewhere?” Diego drawls, amused.

Her eyes narrow and her jaw clenches. Even as her hands ball into fists, she knows she’s no match for one of Marcel’s inner circle. Not for the first time since that fateful positive drugstore pregnancy test, she wishes she could shift into her stronger form. The one that would allow her to run away from this mess or at least maul the next person who tries to fuck with her or her baby.

Hayley doesn’t notice so much as a shadow before Diego’s head wrenches to the side at an unnatural angle and he goes limp.

She fights a smile when she glimpses a familiar form. “Took you long enough,” she says as Rebekah Mikaelson throws her victim into a nearby wall.

“Yeah, well, you might have warned me about the guard.”

She manages a huff before spinning around to strike down two more vampires lurking nearby.

“Alright,” she says, circling back over to Hayley. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

When she reaches out for her, Hayley steps back, ignoring Rebekah’s exasperated look. “About that,” she starts, feeling a bit guilty about her lack of transparency on the phone. “That’s not actually the help I had in mind. I’ve been deemed under protection by the almighty Klaus. It’s the werewolves who need help,” she powers through before Rebekah can so much as groan, “He ordered a wolf hunt as some jacked-up peace offering to Marcel’s crew. You have to help them.”

“Out in the Bayou?” Rebekah balks, looking at her like she has two heads. “Do I look like a bloody vampire rescue squad? I think you should be grateful I came to save you.”

And she is grateful, more than she expected. But she needs this and her people need her.

“Listen, Rebekah. All my life, I’ve wanted to know who my real family was, and just as I find out they’re out there in the Bayou, Klaus orders them killed. You want to help me? Help my people. Please.”

And maybe it’s the quaver of earnestness in her voice or maybe just Rebekah’s vulnerabilities where family is concerned, but somehow it works. She spots the moment her words break through, the way Rebekah sighs when she’s about to fold.

“Fine, but you owe me a new pair of boots this time.”

___

Only when Rebekah leaves, the fate of Hayley’s pack in her hands, does Hayley return to the calm oppression of the compound. She travels the winding halls with purpose, unsure of what she’s moving toward until she finds Klaus in the study. Pouring over a book from his spot in an armchair, he doesn’t acknowledge her presence, though she knows he heard her enter. His obvious dismissal stokes the embers of rage that have been roiling all evening, threatening to ignite.

She takes a step forward, fists clenched. “Those werewolves you ordered killed, that’s my family.”

Slowly, he turns his head to look at her. The directness of his gaze is unnerving, as if he’s not just immortal by omniscient. “Not for long, love. I mean, this so-called family of yours, they haven’t done you much good, have they?” She turns away from his stare and the sharp daggers of truth behind his intent to hurt her. “You said it yourself — they abandoned you and left you on your own. Now it’s simply your turn to do the same.”

“Maybe they had their reasons,” she fires back, hearing the undercurrent of doubt.

The book slams closed, punctuating his attempts at nonchalance as he rises to his feet. “Yes, well, I have reasons too, little wolf. If the werewolves are dead, then the vampires have less desire to kill you. I am trying to keep you safe.” And she hears it, the force of conviction in his words. “Not that you appreciate the effort.”

A thought returns to her then, like a bucket of ice water dropped over her head. “And as soon as I have this baby, what happens to me then?”

His silence is damning, amplified only by the flicker of guilt that flashes behind his eyes. She swallows hard, rage tempered only by her growing fear.

“Right... Well, lucky for me, I have a little while before I find out,” she says with a bitter smile. “And in the meantime, I will find a way to pay you back for this. As long as I’m in the family, you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

She doesn’t turn around to watch her words land, but she feels the heat of his eyes on her back until she rounds the corner and disappears from his view.

___

Cami sleeps through the morning and halfway into the afternoon. More than once, Lucie toys with the idea of waking her, but when she remembers breaking the news about Sean’s hex and holding her, helpless as she sobbed in her arms, she can’t bring herself to do it.

Instead, Lucie occupies herself with cleaning up the rest of the evidence of last night’s disaster. And when that’s finished, she plants roots in the kitchen and turns her hand to dinner, hoping that maybe a home-cooked meal with bring some semblance of normalcy back to her life.

She attacks the potato in her hand with short flicks of the wrist that send little chips of peel fluttering, collecting in a pile on the cutting board. All the while, she taps her toes, hums, tries to remember the words to a poem she recited in fourth-grade English. Anything to keep her mind distracted. But try as she might, the events of last evening creep back in, present as a hand on her shoulder - or wrapped around her fingers.

It’s both astounding and irritating how long after he’s gone, Elijah’s presence always seems to linger. Like fragments of his aura make their home in the walls and burrow deep into the floorboards. She’d watched him leave just as dawn was cresting over the neat rows of shingled roofs. And as his retreating form disappeared from view, she felt the same strange desolation that came with his departure. Was this how it would always be between them; one always left behind while the other chased down their demons?

The shuffling of feet against the tile breaks her out of her thoughts. She sets the vegetable down while there’s still something left of it, the little pile of shreddings has doubled in size, and finds Cami standing bleary-eyed in the doorway.

She groans, stretching her arms over her head. “Smells amazing in here.”

Picking up a knife, she dices the potato with deft precision before adding it to the stockpot. “Thought a stew seemed fitting with the chill. Should be ready in a half hour.”

Cami nods, raking a hand through her hair and stifling a yawn. “What time is it?”

Lucie glances towards the green numbers on the microwave. “Just a few minutes before four.”

The information must kick-start some life into her because her eyes go wide with panic. “Shit,” Cami exclaims, casting around for her phone. “I had a lunch shift today. Paulette is going to kill me—”

“It’s all good,” Lucie interjects, stirring the broth with a wooden spoon. “I called and let them know you weren’t feeling well. If your boss asks, you had a migraine. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh.” She seems to relax a little. “No, no. Thanks for doing that.”

Lucie nods as Cami settles in at the kitchen table, occasionally helping with chopping or peeling, but mostly content to pass the time in friendly conversation. Every now and then, she manages a smile and it's a tight, fragile thing as she makes sense of all she's learned. They’ve settled into a comfortable lull when the doorbell rings.

She sets down the knife with a frown, her eyes meeting Cami’s over her shoulder who shrugs. “Keep an eye on this, will you? I should go see who that is.”

It isn’t that strange for someone to be at the door in the middle of the day. In all honesty, it’s likely a solicitor or maybe a neighbor kid looking to make a quick buck moving lawns. Maybe it’s the lingering memory of vampires outside her door, but she feels a flicker of trepidation when she turns the knob.

But as the door pulls free, it isn’t Rebekah’s haughty expression or Elijah’s steady demeanor that greets her but a pair of big blue eyes.

“Davina?”

“I’m sorry to turn up here unannounced but I need your help.” She doesn’t wait for an invitation, brushing past Lucie and into the living room. “Marcel’s been lying to me. I can’t trust him anymore.”

There’s nothing to do but follow. Davina drops her back onto the floor near the couch, craning her head to peek around the doorway that leads into the kitchen.

“Oh, hi Cami,” she says with a wave before turning back to Lucie. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”

Lucie blinks owlishly, her brain trying to catch up with the teenage witch in her living room. Meanwhile, Cami sets down the spoon and wiping her hand on a dish towel, pads into the living room with a confused expression. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Davina’s brows scrunch together, and then, all at once, understanding seems to dawn. “Oh, you’ve been compelled.”

She closes the distance, and as she leans forward to inspect Cami, Cami leans away. “What are you doing?”

All at once, Lucie’s sluggish thoughts catch up and she feels a surge of apprehension at the look on the girl’s face. “Davina, wait—”

“It’s okay,” she says to Lucie, and then to Cami, she adds with a reassuring smile, “I can fix you. I’m really sorry, but this is gonna hurt.”

#elijah mikaelson fic #elijah mikaelson x oc #elijah mikaelson x ofc #elijah x oc #elijah x ofc #the originals fic #original female character #elijah mikaelson #originals fic

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