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yearnforag0ny · 16 days

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The MD and DVM; Chapter 1

Author’s note: hii omg this is the first fanfiction I’ve written in about five years now loool…I wrote this because I’ve never seen a harvey fic where the farmer is a veterinarian, and I have seen many questionable things said about farming. I work on a farm, and I am working towards going to veterinary school, so I felt my knowledge might contribute to a unique Harvey fic lol correct me if I’m wrong, tho, and please let me know if I should continue this! Crossposted on ao3 under xxdeaduniverse.

spring 1

You had always loved your grandfather’s property. His death almost broke you. However, you were delighted to find that he had left you his farm, Cinnamon Meadow. It was a quiet slice of heaven nestled away in Pelican Town. It still had all its old charm, just some added overgrowth and a lack of crops and animals.

You graduated from veterinary school a couple of years ago. Visiting your grandfather’s farm ignited your love for animals, and it only grew the older you became. After eight years, you earned a bachelor’s degree in animal science and were officially a doctor in veterinary medicine.

Since your veterinary school was near Zuzu City, you picked up a job offer at a clinic in the heart of the city and worked almost exclusively with dogs and cats. It was incredibly fun; however, you had forgotten your initial dream of working with farm animals instead of small ones. So when your grandfather died, you were happy to see he left you the farm in his will. While living in Zuzu City, you would visit Pelican Town every so often to say hello to your grandfather, but more so because Marnie was a client of yours. She called you whenever her animals were having the slightest of health issues. You were happy to answer her calls because it meant you would see cows, catch up with Marnie, and say hello to your grandfather.

You sighed while you stood on the porch of your grandfather’s old house, which was technically yours now. It was a beautiful spring day. You didn’t realize how much you had missed the sounds of birds chirping.

Marnie interrupted your peace by slamming the front door on her way out of the house.

“Whoops! Didn’t mean to let that door slam,” She chuckled. You smiled at her. You were so grateful she agreed to help you move your stuff today.

“Well, that was the last box,” She sighed in relief. “I’ve gotta run. Shane has to work a shift at JojaMart, and I need to watch Jas. You should stop by Robin’s house today so she can start building you a coop!” Marnie exclaimed, smiling at you.

“Yeah, I probably will. I want to get this place up and running as soon as possible,” You said, looking out onto the land again.

“I’ll be at the saloon Friday night. You should stop by and introduce yourself to everyone then,” suggested Marnie.

“That’s a good idea, actually. Gives me enough time to do some work and mentally prepare to meet all the new people,” You chuckled. Marnie rolled her eyes.

“They’ll love you. Just come by whenever you’re ready, okay?” She winked at you before walking off towards her farm.

You waved goodbye and groaned once you realized you would have to clear some overgrowth to build a chicken coop. You cracked your knuckles, grabbed your axe from the porch, and got to work.

A couple of hours of hard work later, you had a small clearing of land by the farmhouse. You decided that would be enough hard work for today, you weren’t sure when Robin would close up, and you haven’t unpacked anything in your house at all. You set the axe back on your porch and made yourself look somewhat presentable. You noticed your cat, Horace, had already taken a liking to the new digs. He had plopped himself on top of a pile of boxes. Horace was a fat, tuxedo tabby cat and essentially your best friend since you had adopted him your junior year of college. You gave him a pat on the head before heading out to Robin’s.

You admired the peace on your walk to the mountains. At some point, the hours must have melted away because three o’clock. You finally noticed how tired you were from moving in and doing physical work on the land. However, your dreams of dozing away were cut short. The walk to Robin’s was not as long as you had anticipated, though, as her house suddenly appeared hidden behind pine trees. You took a moment to admire her house, assuming she had built it herself. Wooden with a blue roof. You liked it. Once you spotted the telescope on the left, you immediately wondered how beautiful the skies must be here. You hadn’t seen a sky free of light pollution in years.

You cautiously opened the front door to see a counter with a ginger woman standing on the other side reading a newspaper. She looked up when the door opened, smiling at you.

“You must be Y/N! I’m so glad to meet you finally. I heard someone was moving into Cinnamon Meadow, but I didn’t know so soon. I’m Robin,” She said, coming out behind the counter to shake your hand. You shook it, happy to realize she wasn’t startled by some stranger entering her home. You smiled at her.

“Hi. Marnie said to come see you if I wanted anything built, so here I am,” You chuckled. Robin looked delighted.

“Well, sure! What were you wanting to have built?” She eagerly questioned. It was easy to see she was excited; not many villagers in Pelican Town needed new construction.

“I’m going to get Cinnamon Meadow up and running again, so I’ll need a new chicken coop. And then a barn. And probably house renovations. I need a lot done,” You sheepishly rubbed your neck, wondering if this was too much to request all at once. Robin defied you and lit up even more.

“Great! I can get started on the chicken coop tomorrow!” She exclaimed.

“Deal.”

After paperwork and settling payments, you returned to Cinnamon Meadow to continue yardwork. You felt so relieved that the coop wasn’t too expensive to build. You had been saving up since you paid off your tuition, and you were finally happy to invest some of the funds into your future. Around six o’clock, your exhaustion won over your ambition, and you decided to settle down for the night. You unpacked enough kitchen supplies to scrounge up some frozen dinner, took a hot shower, and promptly fell asleep with Horace in your small bed around eight.

You slept better than you had in ages. You even had a dream where your farm was complete, cows and all. But you knew something was missing. Or rather, a special someone. What was the farm if you had no one to share it with? You thought to yourself within your dream. You had always told yourself you didn’t need to be with someone, that as long as you made yourself happy, it was all that mattered. But you still ached for it. Your dream was cut short by a particular fat cat lightly smacking your cheek.

“What the–Horace!” You exclaimed.

“I was sleeping so well…” You sighed. You checked the time on your phone. 6 AM? Might as well get up now and get some yardwork done I guess… You thought to yourself with an elongated yawn. You realized you were a little sore from all the work yesterday. You groaned, knowing there would be more to come today. Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed and organized some food for Horace. As expected, he flew to his breakfast and you figured you should do the same for yourself. A cup of coffee and one granola bar later, you pulled on your favorite pair of overalls and stretched. Today was going to be long. You intended to clear more of the land and buy and plant seeds.

You headed outside to start working and saw Robin hammering away at the coop. Her enthusiasm for her work made you smile.

“Morning, Robin! Any coffee for you?” You greeted.

“NO THANKS!” She yelled back with a smile. You wondered why she was screaming before noticing she was wearing headphones. You chuckled, grabbed your axe, and went straight to work.

Around one, you figured you should take a break to go to the store. You briefly recall Marnie mentioning a place called Pierre’s. After trading your axe for your wallet, you started heading in the general direction of town. It was another beautiful day. Are all the days here going to be as lovely as they have been? You wondered, smiling to yourself. You noticed that the change of scenery from moving here had already positively affected you.

You walked into town and focused on the square before you. It's small but adorable. Lamposts and trees lined the square, along with a few buildings. The one before you was the doctor’s clinic, with Pierre’s store on the other side. You briefly wondered about the town doctor for a moment. You knew you should get yourself checked up sooner rather than later. After doing farm research in your undergrad, you unfortunately found out the hard way that farm work was no joke. You filed away this thought for later and walked into Pierre’s.

The general store was small but had everything you could ever need. The older gentleman with glasses behind the single register smiled at you.

“You must be the new farmer! Y/N right? I’m Pierre. It’s so nice to have somebody new in town!” He exclaimed. You wondered when the last time somebody new moved into Pelican Town.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” You smiled back.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your grandfather. He was a great man. Sold me the best crops,” Pierre sighed. You felt a tinge of grief bite at you, pushing it away immediately.

“He was a good man. I fully intend to restore the farm, though, so I’ll have some crops for you,” You chuckled. Remembering what you came here for, you grabbed a bunch of random seed packets and essentials for your kitchen. You accidentally bumped into a woman with bright green hair in one of the aisles. You quickly learned she was Pierre’s wife, Caroline.

“You should come to the aerobics class here on Tuesdays! Great way to get to know everyone,” She smiled. The thought of any more exercise than you already had to do on the farm made you cringe.

“Maybe,” you tentatively said before mentioning it was good to meet her and heading to checkout. You went right home afterward, excited to plant your new seeds. You may have been a little ambitious when you started tilling the dirt; the field you created was large. You also knew if you wanted to make money anytime soon, it would be from crops.

It took forever to till, plant, and water the field. By the time it was 6, you were wiping sweat off your brow and decided that was all you could take today. You headed into your house to make a proper dinner from the groceries you picked up at Pierre’s today: homemade pizza. You savored every bite—your first meal in your first owned house. The thought made you smile. After a shower, you watched TV, cuddling Horace before finally falling asleep for the night.

The following two days seemed to blur together. At some point, you went to Marnie’s to catch up and buy chickens after Robin was done with the coop. You were overjoyed to finally have animals back on the farm and made a mental note to return to Robin’s on Monday to have her start building a barn. However, today was Friday. The day you were going to the saloon. You thought about it–stressed about it–while doing your farm chores that morning. Was everyone going to like you? Would they insist on kicking you out of Pelican Town? Or would you drink enough to forget these irrational thoughts and let go? You decided on the latter.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, you had showered and started getting ready for your first night out on the town. You threw on your favorite pair of jeans and a sweater with some jewelry. After a little makeup and tweaking your hair, you decided you were ready.

Walking out the door, you felt a cold spring breeze on your back. You were immediately grateful you picked a sweater. As you walked towards the saloon, you looked up at the sky. The sun had just begun to set. It was your favorite time of day. A part of you felt like having drinks on your porch alone instead of being crowded by strangers in a bar, but you knew better than to be a hermit tonight. You had told Marnie you would be there, so you would.

You could hear faint music and laughter inside as you approached the saloon. A warm glow of light emitted from the windows. You took a deep breath and walked in. The villagers were having so much fun not many even noticed you came in except Marnie. She sat in the center of the bar, smiling and waving at you. A wave of relief washed over you. You smiled and sat down

next to her.

“I’m so glad you came! I’ll have to introduce you to everyone,” She said, handing you a glass of wine—even more relief. You gulped to soothe your nerves. One by one, Marnie introduced you to some people in the town. You knew you would struggle to remember some of their names after tonight. You met Emily, tending the bar, along with Gus. Leah, an artist who had also moved to the valley from the city. Pam, who seemed like the local drunk. Willy, a sweet fisherman. Marnie pointed out other people; you determined Demetrius was married to Robin because they were dancing together. Some younger kids in the other room were Sebastian, Sam, and Abigail. A young woman with glasses suddenly sat herself next to you.

“Marnie, is this the new farmer we’ve all been hearing about?” She questioned, smiling at you.

“Yup! Y/N, meet Maru,” Marnie motioned to her.

“Hi,” you shyly said with a smile.

“Y/N is a veterinarian,” Marnie blurted out. You nodded.

“Good to have another scientist in town,” Maru giggled. “Dr. Y/N, then?” She asked. You laughed.

“Oh, no, please don’t call me doctor…except when I’m looking at your animals,” You winked, and they laughed. Maru looked in the other direction of the bar, and you saw something go off in her brain.

“I should introduce you to the only other doctor in town,” Maru giggled.

“Oh, sure, I’ve meant to meet them, actually,” You nodded. Maru took your hand and led you to a table near the jukebox. At the table sat two men having wine. One had long hair and wore a reddish coat, the other with glasses and a mustache wearing a green coat. Before you had time to think further, Maru set her hands down on the table.

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N. She just moved into Cinnamon Meadow. Harvey, she is also a doctor,” Maru said with a smirk. You briefly wondered which one she was talking to before the man in the glasses smiled.

“Is that right? I’m the town’s doctor, Harvey,” He introduced himself. You were taking him in. Handsome. Really handsome. It didn’t help you had a thing for mustaches, but he was also smart, evidently.

“I’m a veterinarian. I planned on getting my MD for a while but decided I liked animals more than people,” This raised a laugh out of them all.

“Good to meet you, doctor Y/N,” Harvey said, sipping his wine. The man with the long hair introduced himself as Elliott. You immediately let his name slip your mind because you were considering how you would further get to know Harvey. Marnie interrupted your thoughts by calling for you from the bar.

“Y/N! Come here, you gotta tell me what breed of cows you want to invest in!!” You blushed.

“I suppose I’ll see you later,” You said, mainly to Harvey. You could feel the alcohol working its way into your system, so it was probably best you get away from him now before you were completely drunk. Harvey looked a little disappointed.

“Be sure to come see me some time to get checked up,” He quickly mentioned. You nodded, smiling; maybe you weren’t just delusional, and he thought the same about you. You walked back to Marnie, but every fiber of your being wanted to stay and have another drink with him.

#stardew valley #sdv harvey #sdv harvey x reader #stardew harvey #harvey x reader #harvey x farmer #sdv farmer

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dramioneasks · 4 months

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Hi, do you have some ff recommendations which are exclusive on Fanfiction.net and not crossposted on AO3?

my tbr-list is filled with AO3 stories but I'm sure there are some gems on FF.net too :)

Thanks!

On the one hand, I'm like: I came back at the perfect time to answer this question, because FFN got me into fanfiction. It's my first love. But on the other hand, I'm almost exclusively an AO3 reader now (FFN got too spammy).

Your best bet is to honestly just google something you're interested in and see if it's cross-posted. There was a big push a few years ago for authors to move or at least cross-post their fanfiction. And then there's a lot of fans who have moved older stuff over when it looks like the author is no longer active. So googling is the only way to tell.

But I'm happy to share my personal Dramione FFN favorites list, and I'm 100% sure some of our followers will post theirs in the comments.

-Shirlyn

The Request by redhead414 - M, 39 chapters - Astoria was never a fan of Hermione Granger, but pretty soon, she would be gone, and Draco was going to need all the help he could get. Rated M for future chapters.

The Fine Line Between Love and Hate by Short-circuit-Soulmate - M, 30 chapters - The Silver Marauders are the most popular group in school, consisting of Ron, Harry, Blaise and Draco. Hermione is the most unpopular girl in school. Blaise wants to discover the motivation behind Draco's constant bullying of Hermione. AU. Violence. COMPLETE!

Vibrations by Craft Rose - M, 6 chapters - After three years of a mundane, sexless existence and far too much wine, our favourite brunette happens upon the magic equivalent of a sex line. There, an intriguing, deliciously devilish caller manages to pique her interest. It's all fun and anonymous

Wrong Life by camnz - M, 25 chapters - Hermione wakes up in the wrong bed, with the wrong face, and with a husband that hates her.

Crimson with a Silver Lining by Lady Cailan - M, 78 chapters - It is six years since the fall of the Ministry to Voldemort. Those other than purebloods are deemed less than human. When Ginny's daughter ends up in grave danger, Hermione sells herself to the Death Eaters to save her life. Draco/Hermione. Not fluffy.

Burbage High by Charlotte Bird - M, 27 chapters (abandoned) - 14 Years post war, Hermione has become Head of the progressive, yet failing Burbage High. Handling right wing politics is easy, but working out why Malfoy is insisting his son start there in September is not. 10 years spent in Azkaban and 2 years isolated in the muggle world may have changed Draco, but surely not that much? Is something more sinister going on?

Forget Me by Emara88 - M, 26 chapters - The war ended over two years ago, but Hermione still feels the echoes of strange memories from that time, as though something is missing or has been taken from her. When she sees Draco Malfoy at a Ministry ball and collapses, falling into a coma, the truth about their past together is revealed.

Once More with Feeling by Kyonomiko - M, 20 chapters - Sometimes taking a second look can give you a new perspective on someone. Hermione has difficulty analyzing people once she has made up her mind, especially in regards to herself. Circumstances what they are, she might not have a choice but to try again. Dramione EWE. Granger Enchanted Awards 2018 Winner

Who Needs Friends by camnz - M, 47 chapters - Friends prove difficult as Hermione and Blaise start dating, especially his friends. Malfoy is particularly offended by Hermione's presence on the scene.

Simply Irresistible by bookworm1993 - M, 30 chapters - Draco gave a cocky grin. "I am going to give you a makeover." "I'm sorry what?" "You heard me Granger, I'm going to give you a makeover that will make every man want you,and make Weasley die of regret. You will be simply irresistible."

Pride, Image, and Reputation by Fanofbooks.Harry Potter - M, 28 chapters - They hate each other. Plain and simple. But he's Draco Malfoy, and no girl escapes his charm. Even if it is stupidly smart Granger. But what happens when progress is actually made...from both ends, and a certain little bet between friends gets in the way?

Of Kings and Queens by galfoy - M, 26 chapters - Hermione has a bad habit. Draco has a big problem. The universe has one heck of a plan.

Little, Fragile Toys by Bex-chan - M, oneshot - "That incident, their first kiss, always reminded her of a car crash; people often described how they could recall every moment before and every moment after, but the impact itself was lost or hazy, like when you find a new bruise and can't remember where it came from. And Hermione could genuinely remember every detail that followed the impact. Every detail." Dramione. One-shot.

It's All Uncharted by redhead414 - M, 38 chapters - "Are you ready?" she asked. Draco brushed the back of his hand against her forehead before tracing it down her cheek. "I was ready the moment you came back into my life, Granger. Are you ready?" "With you," she whispered, "I'm ready for anything."

It's Just Me by jehszs - M, 32 chapters - After a night of mistaken identity Hermione finds herself unable to stay away from the mystery man from the darkness. How can she stop herself from falling for him when he's doing everything in his power to make her his again? M. HG/DM. Warning: some non-consensual sexual themes

Heir Brained by diagonally - M, 42 chapters (abandoned) - The war witnessed Draco managing his way into the Order's fold & the trio's cramped boundaries. Years later, they are quasi-friends. Does Hermione want more? Want to bet your copy of 'Hogwarts, a History? Flashbacks/action/post HBP

Utterly Despicable by camnz - M, 24 chapters - The death of both Voldemort and Harry Potter let the pureblood elite build the world they wanted. One that leaves Hermione in a vulnerable state, which Draco Malfoy is prepared to take full advantage of.

The Bracelet by AkashaTheKitty - M, 103 chapters - Hermione has everything she could possibly want... Except a life. People are getting sick of her superior attitude, especially Draco Malfoy, who schemes to get her down, once and for all. And then there's the thing with The Bracelet... 7th year AR. COMPLETE SINCE 2009 XD

Forbidden by Darkest Dawn - M, 17 chapters - He hated her...but he would have her. After all: Forbidden fruit always tasted much sweeter. -Being revised-

Sweet Caroline by gingercat0319 - M, 43 chapters - He was rich, single and disgustingly handsome. Learn how a four-year-old will turn his world up-side down. Sequel now posted - My Darling Caroline.

The Passion Of Hate by XorderlyXchaosXnXconfusionX - M, 17 chapters - It's a known fact to the entire population of Hogwarts that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy hate each other with a passion. But what happens when that passion turns the hate to lust? Winner for He Had It Coming Dramione awards

Valentine Encounter by Kyra4 - T, 24 chapters - READ ME! Draco and Hermione are Head Boy & Girl, but do NOT share a common room and see as little of each other as possible til a fateful encounter on Valentine's night leads to a gradual, reluctant romance. Starts 7th year goes postHogwarts. NOW COMPLETE

Never is a Promise by LoPotter - M, 45 chapters - HrD fic, they're head girl and boy and having an interesting year. June 19! I finally updated! It's been a year, sorry. But here's Chapter 45. Oh nelly :

#favourite fics #ffnet

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maybege · 2 years

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Unexpectedly Expecting

Summary: You have big news and Paz doesn’t know what to do. (Part 6 of LPOH)

Pairing: biker!Paz Vizsla x fem!teacher!Reader

Wordcount: 4.2k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Biker AU, pregnancy stuff, slight angst, mentions of bad parenting and addiction

I kind of forgot that I had a whole chapter for biker!Paz still complete in the drafts so I thought I would celebrate the start of fall (and my soon tk be birthday) with a new chapter. We now get into the main plot stuff and I just want to put in a disclaimer that I have never been pregnant and therefore the depiction of pregnancy will be very inaccurate and just give the kind of romcom vibes that we need lol. As always please let me know what you thought in a comment or reblog ❤

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“For the last time, you cannot come with us!”

“Meow!”

“Kitten,” he warned, seeing the little cat climb her way back into his duffel bag.

At first, he had thought that it was the colourfully patterned socks (a gag gift from Grogu and Din for one Winterfest) that had caught her attention. But as he had removed the offending piece of clothing to his bed and Kitten had stayed curled up in his packed bag, he knew that she simply did not want him to leave.

Which had led to the discussion they were currently having.

“That hut is not a safe place for kittens,” he heard himself say, scooping her up and placing her on the floor, “You will stay with Grogu and Fennec.”

Kitten climbed back onto the bed, eyeing the bag as if she was calculating the best place to jump into it.

He sat down with a sigh, knowing that it would be futile to fight with her. “C’mere.”

She purred, climbing onto his knees and curling up. His fingers disappeared into her fur, petting her as he thought about the weekend ahead. Years ago, he never would have thought that he would have a girlfriend(?) to bring with him to a weekend trip with his friends.

And now here he was, packing his pack so he could pick you up first thing tomorrow and drive with you to the coast. He smiled.

The ringing of his phone forced him into action and he practically fell over his feet as he reached for the blinking device.

“Hey, everything alright?”

“I am so sorry, Paz,” you mumbled, sounding struck down, “I think I must’ve caught a bug or something from the kids but I,” another pause, “I don’t think I can come with you today.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

The words were out of his mouth so quickly, it was almost like an instinct. You chuckled weakly and he felt something tugging in his chest at the way you sounded so pained. You did not sound well. At all.

“Thank you for asking,” you replied, “But I don’t think I would be very good company today. I have the doctor’s appointment this afternoon and then I think I will just need to rest for the weekend.”

Something in him wanted to ask if you were sure. That he could stay with you, no problem. He had Boba on speed dial, after all, it would take less than a minute to pull out of the trip and then make his way to your house.

But he also knew that whatever it was between the two of you, it had not been going on for very long. Barely two months. Could that be considered long? It felt like an eternity for him, certainly after the long years he had been without a partner. But objectively … could two, three months even be considered a relationship?

“Are – are you angry?”

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts.

“No!” he protested quickly, Kitten jumping from his lap in fright, “Sorry, I was just lost in thought. It’s okay for you to stay home, love, just – just text me if you need anything?”

He could hear your tired smile, his heart strings thrumming. “You can’t send me food from up the coast, Paz.”

“No but I’d drive home,” he replied, “I could get you some soup, some tea and, uh, those salty cracker things you like so much.”

You chuckled, sounding tired and sad and his heart clenched. “You’re the best, Paz, enjoy your tip, okay? And give Kitten lots of scritches from me.”

You: Hey, can you come over when you’re back? We need to talk.

He had been staring at the notification for three hours now, not even daring to open the text so you couldn’t see that he had read it. We need to talk. That was never a good sign, was it?

What did you want to talk about? Had you changed your mind?

Three days by the coast, surrounded by his friends and family, all seemed like a waste of time now that he knew something bad was about to happen. Stars, he felt stupid now. How happy he had been to see you again, to tell you al about his weekend, to tell you how he had spoken abut you to the others. How happy Ahsoka had been to hear that the new teacher was doing well.

“Why the face?” Din sat down next to him at Ahsoka’s breakfast table, “You look like Kitten just ran away.”

Paz tilted the screen so his friend could see the notification, “She wants to talk.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Paz sighed, “Oh.”

He knocked on your door, taking a deep breath. Whatever would end up happening, he would get over it. He could live with it. The most important thing was that he could remain your friend. That you would be happy and he somehow still had a chance to see that.

The door swung open and he swallowed when he saw how sick you looked. You were wearing your pyjamas, still, the fuzzy ones with cookies printed all over them. And it looked like you had cried and his heart ached.

“Hey,” he smiled quietly, holding up the bag, “I, uh, I brought you some soup.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, your hand still on the doorknob, “Would you like to come in for a coffee or something?”

He swallowed again, his dry throat protesting at the movement, “Sure.”

You both were silent as you made your way to the kitchen and he followed you like a lost puppy with the soup in his hands. He noticed the dirty dishes in the sink, the blinds half closed even though it was bright daylight out.

“That bug really got to you, huh?”

He tried to hide the way how nervous he was and set the takeout bag on the free space on your kitchen table. The coffee machine whirred to live and he watched as you grabbed a mug from the cupboard and setting it under the machine.

Your silence did not go unnoticed by him and something in him already regretted accepting the cup of coffee. The slow drip of it made him even more nervous, skittish somehow, as he tried to prepare for the inevitable. For your rejection. For playing like this had meant just as little to him as it had to you. For playing like his heart did not shatter into a million pieces.

“So how –“

The cup cluttered and he watched as coffee spilled all over the counter. He wanted to reach out to you, kiss your fingertips and ask you what was wrong. Why your hands were shaking just like his heart. Why you looked so afraid.

“I’m pregnant Paz.”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant,” you repeated, taking a deep breath, “I know that this is – this is a shock and please just, just listen to me, okay?”

Feeling completely dumbfounded, he nodded.

“I am pregnant and I know it is yours. I take the pill and I don’t know how – how this could’ve happened but I’m definitely pregnant. In the third month too,” you added, “And I have decided that I would like to keep the baby. I know this is not ideal and this is not something you signed up for. And … I guess I just wanted to let you know. I understand if you’re not ready for that kind of commitment yet or if you didn’t see this relationship go anywhere. I promise I won’t bother you with it too much. But you have a right to know and –“

“Are you well?” he blurted out, interrupting your rushed monologue. He felt bad because he wanted you to know that he listened to you but in all this hurry, the panic in your voice had just sounded more and more prominent and what

You tilted your head, questions in your eyes, and he cleared his throat, trying to get his words out better than before.

“Do – are you sick, I mean?” he clarified, rubbing the back of his neck, “Do – do you want to sit down or have a water or –“

“I’m fine, Paz,” you smiled, “Thank you for asking. I’m – I’m just nervous, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he huffed out, his heart beating a mile a minute, “Me too.”

Silence.

His brain was still trying to catch up on the information you had just provided.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant. With his child.

A baby would change everything and it was like he could watch his entire world turn upside down in front of him.

“I know this is a lot of information, Paz,” you said soothingly, your hand landing on his forearm and he hated how you looked at him as if he would push you away, “I just – Please take the time to think about this, okay?”

“Yeah, I,” he took a deep breath, “I don’t know what to say, I’m sorry, this is – it’s a lot. I thought –“

“Thought what?”

“I thought you called me here to, uh, to break up.”

“That’s the last thing on my mind,” you smiled sadly, “But it might not be on yours.”

“What’s gotten into you, big guy?”

Ten hours later, Paz still felt like the world was reeling around him. He did not even know how he had gotten to the bar or what he had done in between listening to your words and sitting in front of a pint of beer, looking at the foam as if that would give him the answers he needed.

“She’s pregnant,” he said lamely, still staring at his hands. Everything felt like it was moving so fast and he was stuck in place, his heart tugging between pure elation and straight panic in a roller coaster of emotions that made him want to throw up, “She – she is pregnant.”

“Is it yours?”

“Of course, it is,” he hissed, turning to glare at his older friend and boss.

But Boba did not seem to be fazed. The older man simply met his stare, calmly taking a swig of his beer. “You barely dated, what, three months?” he guessed, “I wanted to make sure.”

“She’s not like that,” Paz muttered under his breath, his heart feeling strangely warm when thinking of you. Anger at Boba was at the forefront because how could he – Boba knew you for fuck’s sake! He knew how important you were to him. “She – We – There is no one else. Won’t be any one else, either.”

“Man, you are head over heels already, huh?”

He did not say anything. The truth was, yes, he was. Hopelessly so. Ever since he had first seen you at school it seemed like life had gotten so much lighter. Maybe it was too early to call it love but his heart was counting the days until he could tell you what he felt for you.

“And now a baby?” Boba probed further, “What did she say?”

“She said she wanted me to know about it,” he recalled slowly, barely able to piece everything together from memory, “That, uh, she wants to keep it, either way. And she did not want to break up with me.”

“Glad we got that covered,” Din said dryly and Paz threw him a glare. But the dark haired man simply shrugged and raised his beer to his lips, half looking at the football game that was shown on the TV in the corner.

“What? Every time I see you two together it is hard to say who has more heart eyes for the other – you or her,” he mumbled absentmindedly, “The last thing I thought she would do was break up and I was proven right.”

“Taking all emotions out of this, she is doing the right thing, I think,” Boba said, “She made her decision and now she is offering you the choice if and how you want to be involved in your child’s life.”

Your child.

“Why are you all so much fucking calmer than I am about this?” Paz asked, taking a big swig of his beer, trying to let the bitter taste wash away the anxiety that bubbled up. As if that had ever worked.

“I – Shit, Boba look at me,” he growled, resting his forehead on his hand, “I never thought I would be a dad. Not with my family, not with this town and now – “

“Now you have a chance to experience it,” the older man nodded in understanding, leaning back against the low backrest of the barstool. He had crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking as serious as ever and just like always, Paz had trouble recognizing how his friend actually felt. “Do you think you are ready for a kid?”

Paz scoffed, “We all know Djarin is the only one I ever would entrust a kid with.”

Din made a sound at the back of his throat, rubbing his beard. “Paz, it was you who took care of Grogu those first few weeks. Yes, he is my son and but don’t tell me you wouldn’t have been ready to adopt him if I had not.”

“And what about her?”

Remembering Boba’s previous implied question about your fidelity, Paz perked up, ready to come to your defence in case his friend decided to be stupid again. “What about her?”

Boba shrugged, “What do you feel for her? Yes, a baby is a big responsibility but there is also the question of who you are raising that child with.”

He relaxed at the question, nodding in thought. “She will be a great mom,” he murmured, thinking of the way you had laughed with Grogu in the car, how gentle and understanding you were with your students. Honestly, if you hadn’t been pregnant now, he doubted it would have taken him long to have the first thought of you holding his child.

But that was the problem. You weren’t going to be the only parent. That was his child as well.

“You both know my family,” he sighed, avoiding the mustering stares of Boba and Din, “You know about my father. That man was an asshole and a drunk addicted to poker. How can I,” he took a deep breath, finally voicing his fears as his voice broke, “How can I ever be better than that?”

Memories came rushing back. Of the fun summers in his uncle’s garage. Of the horrible winters at home, how sad his mother had been, trying her best to make up for a mostly-absent father. Of the moments his father hadn’t been absent but instead chosen to destroy any confidence his son had.

A heavy hand landed on his back and Paz flinched, blinking before finding Boba’s dark eyes. “I know what you are thinking,” the man said, “But you are not your father, Paz Vizsla, and you never have been. You are already so much better than him by trying to be honest with yourself. The question is do you want what your father did to you keep you from having the life you want?”

Curse Boba and his occasional words of wisdom.

“What are you thinking?” Din asked him, watching, curiously as Paz stood up, fiddling to his jacket over his arms.

“I’m taking a personal day tomorrow.”

Boba grinned, probably already knowing what was going in his head. “Don’t you have that Whistledown car inspection schooled?”

“Then I’ll come in later, I don’t care,” he muttered, slapping a few bills on the counter, “I need to talk to her.”

It was way too late and when the cab passed your street, he saw that all the lights were out. That when it hit home that maybe it was way too late to talk to you. (3am the dashboard clock let him know.) Besides, he had had too much to drink and could not think straight. He could wait.

And wait he did. Paz had never slept as badly as in that night, getting up at 6am to take a shower and prep breakfast, his hands trembling excitement and nervousness. For a moment, he lamented that Kitten had decided to stay at the garage (Boba had bribed her with treats, of that he was sure) but on second thought he would probably have driven her crazy with his pacing and tossing and turning.

No, he could wait.

He was out the door at 6:10am, making his way to the bar from last night to pick up his bike. This was too early still, he tried to tell himself, he did not want to seem like a maniac when he standing in front of your door. He wanted to look responsible and thoughtful and mature and –

Passing the gas station, he decided to turn around, his bike roaring under him.

Maybe a coffee would help settle his nerves.

You felt like shit and by now you were sure that both your heart and your stomach had decided to riot at the same time as you sobbed into the toilet, your gagging turning into dry heaving when your stomach had no more contents to throw up.

Cold sweat had built up on your forehead and you tried to remember Doctor Kaida’s words that ginger tea could sometimes help. You just needed to be able to make it to the kitchen.

You sniffled, flushing the toilet before quickly splashing some cold water on your face and trying to rinse your mouth of the acid taste that seemed to have burned itself into your throat. At least you had not gotten dressed yet, it would have been so much worse if you would have to think of another outfit to wear.

A look in the mirror reminded you that your feeling of misery did its best to be translated on the outside and you felt tears prick in your eyes again. You did not know what you had expected Paz to do and you tried to reason with yourself that he needed the time. Stars, it hadn’t even been 24 hours since you had told him about the pregnancy. You had had a whole weekend to think about it, it was only fair that you would award him that same courtesy.

But that was said so much easier than done when all you wanted was to just spend time with him. You wanted to be with him, every second of every day, and spend weekends on the couch with Kitten on your lap and, later on, with your baby.

A real baby.

You slipped your dress over your head, making sure it fell right before pulling on your tights. There was no hint of a baby belly yet but according to the internet there would be – soon. Which meant that not only would you have to tell your students about it but also their parents. And most importantly your boss.

Another wave of anxiety washed over you and you felt your stomach rumble. Principal Gideon would not be pleased, that was for sure, especially since you had just started working at the school. You just weren’t sure if it was going to be the pregnancy itself or rather the father of your baby who would be the thorn in his eyes.

You pressed your lips together, refusing to be late for school, when you made your way out of the house, bringing your little bag with you. Already, you had started a countdown in your head of how many hours were left of the work day. It being Monday, maybe you could get away with giving the kids some own occupational time where they could work on their art projects? That would at least give you a bit of respite and time to plan the next few days ahead.

You opened the door, immediately forgetting if you had packed your lunch or not and if you had forgotten it, did you have enough change to get a quick bite at the sandwich shop? And why was there a bike in your driveway?

You blinked in confusion, your hand tightening round the key in your hand until you recognized the dark blue paint on the bike, slightly chipped in places but generally well taken care of. Paz. It was Paz who was standing beside said bike, looking a little worse for wear but most importantly nervous. He was nervous.

The large man spotted you, straightening his posture and you smiled when you saw that he seemed to have put a bit more effort into his appearance. His hair was curly and fluffy, like when he had just stepped out of the shower, and you spotted a little patch on his denim jacket where there previously had been an oil stain. And you had never seen that flannel on him before …

“I, uh, I did not know what kind of flowers you liked,” he brought out, holding a little bouquet out in front of him. The clear plastic crinkled and you recognized the sticker from the little flower shop down by the gas station and you smiled.

“Thank you,” you said, your heart beating so fast you almost forgot how horrible the morning had gone. You walked closer, trying to hide the trembling in your hands as you reached out to take it from him. His fingers brushed yours and you both paused and you watched his fingers flex, carefully skimming over the inside of your wrist.

Stars, how you had missed his touch.

Paz shuffled and you noted he still had one hand behind him. You tilted your head, seeing something brown and furry behind his back.

“Is that a stuffie?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

He looked at you as if he didn’t understand the question before gathering himself, bringing his other hand in front of him. It was a small dark brown teddy bear with a little red bow tie and it looked like the softest thing you had ever seen. “Uh, yeah,” he said, taking in a deep breath, “Babies like soft things and I had this one teddy bear that my uncle gave me that I loved and I thought the baby might need one, too, and – and, uh,” he looked at you, “I want in. Like, all in.”

“All in?” you whispered, tears pricking your eyes and you could not help your hand landing on your belly, “Like, for real?”

Paz looked at you with wide eyes, nodding eagerly. “For real, sweetheart. All in.”

You sniffled, your mouth pulled wide in a grin as the first tear ran down your cheek. “I’m going to find some water for these,” you held up the flowers, “You want to come inside? I’ve got a few minutes to spare.”

The dark haired man nodded, following you and you could not hide the emotion on your face. Paz wanted this. He wanted this with you.

As soon as the door closed behind him and you were both shielded from the curious eyes of your neighbours, Paz was in front of you, his heavy hands on your shoulders.

“I am sorry that I wasn’t better at taking in the information,” he apologized, eyes searching yours, a furrow between his brows when he spotted the tears, “You’re, stars, you’re pregnant, sweetheart, and I should’ve been happy and not disappeared on you and I promise –“

“Paz, hey,” you interrupted him gently, your hand coming up to his chest, “You are allowed to panic. Stars know I panicked, too. But I’m,” you lowered your eyes, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, “I’m really happy that you’re here.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice soft. His hands came up to frame your face, making you look at him and he was so … he looked so happy, it made your heart clench.

“Yeah,” you grinned, breathing out a laugh and he did too.

“Can I kiss you, love?” he asked quietly, his nose brushing against yours and even with the softness of the teddy bear against your back and the flowers in your hand, you did not even hesitate a second.

“Yes please,”

And he did.

It was soft and slow and absolutely perfect. His hands were pulling you closer, the stubble on his chin slightly scratching the sensitive skin of your jaw as his lips moved against yours, coaxing your mouth open so he could slide his tongue over yours.

Your breath hitched, whining when he pulled away from you.

“Can I drive you to work?” he asked, breathless, “I – I could pick you up and we could eat dinner or something.”

You nodded, biting your lips and you were so close he could feel your body heat through your cardigan and he wanted to raise your baby together. He wanted you. He wanted all of this. This was the best Monday ever.

“I’d like that,” you nodded quickly, “We – we could talk some more about all of this?”

“That sounds wonderful,” he kissed your neck, “We could order in from the diner?”

You groaned, “Paz Vizsla, you are the best man on earth.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #biker!paz vibes

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peninkwrites · 2 years

Text

A New Era - Ch 3 of 11

Niki, Quackity, Eret, and HBomb rally to help Ponk get away from Sam.

[CW: abuse of power and aftermath of police brutality]

Crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 4

Mafia AU masterpost

~ A Collective ~

Quackity is irritable and distracted when Niki calls, but he says he’ll get to the station soon as he can. He’s in the middle of something right now. Niki doesn’t want to know what Quackity might be taking care of at seven in the morning at Schlatt’s place, really she’s surprised he’s there at all. She wants to ask how Tubbo is, but there are more urgent matters to attend to.

Niki hangs up and starts dialing another number. While it rings she waves over Ranboo, who had been drowsily prepping the dough that had risen overnight.

“Huh?” He asks.

“Ranboo, I might need you to watch the shop, not sure yet but I might have to leave,” Niki says.

“What?” Ranboo is more alert now. “Is everything okay?”

“Not sure yet,” Niki shifts restlessly as it rings.

A weary voice answers. “King residence.”

“Hey, H, it’s Niki!”

“Hey, Niki! Uh, everything okay? Bit early for a social call,” HBomb says blearily. Niki can imagine he had a late night out with Eret.

“Actually, H, everything isn’t really okay. I’m fine! But is Eret in?” Niki doesn’t know why she feels so urgent. Ponk had sounded scared. Actually, properly scared, and from what she knows about them, they don’t scare easy.

“Yeah. Uh. She’s somewhere in here. One sec.” There’s a clatter as HBomb sets down the phone.

The following minute or so is agonizing, but finally voices return, a far deeper one picking up this time.

“Niki? Everything alright?”

“I’m not sure. But… I need you to do something for me. Well, not for me, but for a mutual friend.”

Eret sighs, “you know I’ll help you in a heartbeat, but is this not the kind of help that can wait a few hours? I haven’t slept yet and holy fuck am I about to be hung over–”

Niki feels fond annoyance at her friend’s usual exploits. “It’s actually urgent. It’s– It’s Ponk.”

“Ponk?” Eret immediately refocuses. Eret knew that Ponk was friendly with Niki to some extent, but this situation is growing more and more unusual and therefore far more concerning. “Are they okay? Are they at The City?”

“No, they’re– They’re at the police station, Eret,” Niki feels a pang of guilt. This isn’t her story to tell, especially to Ponk’s boss, but Eret is also their friend. She may not involve herself in the city’s underbelly of criminal activity beyond visiting the speakeasy, but she knows better than to trust the institutions of this city as well. She won’t judge them. “They were arrested and I think they might need help. Help from someone a little more prepared to– I mean, I don’t know what I can do, I don’t have anything to back me up, so. Well, I think they might need help from someone like you.”

A pause on the other end of the line, her voice muffled and more distant in the background for a moment, “H, bring the car around. Can you find my cane?” A reply from HBomb Niki can’t quite make out and then Eret returns to the line. “Thank you, Niki. H and I will go get them. Take care of yourself.”

“Of course. Quackity said he would defend them on the legal stuff, I just thought, well.”

Eret replies with a hint of amusement, “money can never hurt, right?”

Niki exhales a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“I’ll try to call and update you later.”

“Okay. Thank you, Eret.”

The line goes dead and Niki manages a bit of relief.

“What’s going on with Ponk?” Ranboo looks worried.

“Not really sure, but Quackity and Eret are going to help them. Nothing left for us to do but get ready to open,” Niki shakes herself, trying to refocus.

Ranboo poorly buries a smirk. “Should we make Wilbur earn his keep a bit?”

Niki pushes him lightly. “Let him sleep in today. But, yes. After this, he’s officially a City Bakery employee.”

“Yes! He’s doing deliveries,” Ranboo says smugly before putting on his mask to head up front.

“I don’t know if he can even drive!” Niki calls after him.

Quackity does not have fucking time to deal with this. He’s got a dead body on a blood soaked mattress and a scared teenaged murderer struggling to get a move on. And apparently, he’s needed at the fucking police station because the universe has decided to make his life as difficult as possible. He’d already called Karl hours ago and told him he wouldn’t be home that night, then he got ahold of Purpled who will gladly take care of a corpse for a couple hundred bucks, but that doesn’t change the messier aspects of this particular murder– the politics.

“Okay, Tubbo. How d’you wanna play this, huh?” Quackity has dragged Tubbo out of the bathroom and sat him down on the edge of his bed. “If you feel like trying the ‘died in his sleep’ route, you can. No one who matters will believe you, of course, but hopefully knowing you killed the bastard means they won’t say shit.”

Tubbo is fiddling with the watch Quackity gave him, staring at the floor.

“Come on, man, I need you to snap out of this– I need to go.”

Tubbo looks up, a flicker of panic showing for a moment. “You said–”

“I know I said I wouldn’t leave, but I’ve got someone to take care of the body on the way and it is urgent,” Quackity sighs.

“What kind of urgent? Is Karl okay?”

Quackity has a moment of fondness that Karl was Tubbo’s first concern. “No, actually. Ponk got arrested. No clue the details, but Niki said Sam arrested them. So. It’s gotta be at least a little fucked, y’know?”

Tubbo gets to his feet, whatever haze he’d been struggling through is lifted immediately. “Are they okay?”

Quackity sighs. “I don’t know. That’s why I gotta go.”

Tubbo nods. It might seem strange, that they both feel such concern for the person who had arguably prolonged Schlatt’s life over the past few years, but Ponk had always been good to them. Maybe giving a raging alcoholic sedatives had risked Schlatt’s life, but it’s not like Tubbo and Quackity were too concerned by it. Ponk showing up in the evenings to give Schlatt medical advice he would most definitely ignore had always been a good thing because they knew Schlatt would be passed out for the rest of the night. Ponk obviously hadn’t done it for Schlatt’s health, they’d done it as a favor to the other people stuck in that house with him. Ponk had always taken the time to ask either of them if they were hurt. Ponk knew what kind of man Schlatt was, and even if Quackity and Tubbo had never had the need to take them up on it or had at least never chosen to, Ponk offering to tend to any injuries without judgement had been a comfort. Ponk in general had been a comfort, their presence easygoing and lighthearted despite everything else that came with this particular patient.

“You should go. The body is handled. Later today I think some of the boys were supposed to come over to talk about the border with the Badlands. I can deal with that and if they ask why it’s me and not Schlatt…” Tubbo reaches almost subconsciously for the holster under his arm. Quackity hands him the gun he had taken from him earlier, now cleaned of blood. Tubbo takes it almost robotically. “I’ll tell them. And if they have a problem with it, I’ll make sure that they don’t,” Tubbo’s voice is no longer small or shaky.

Quackity knows the kid is strong enough for this, but he also knows the types Schlatt has invited to his inner circle. Quackity can almost see it. Tubbo asserts his authority, at least one of them will try to kill him. Tubbo can shoot one of them, but if things start to fall apart, it’ll be hard to control who else gets shot.

“Alright. I don’t think you should go alone. You need someone to back you up, someone tough. So not Ranboo,” Quackity says pointedly. “And the guys you’re gonna be dealing with are too stupid to know they should be scared of Niki.”

“Niki has enough going on and I would never do that to Ranboo, are you kidding?” Tubbo almost laughs. He thinks it over for a moment. “Okay. Jack Manifold.”

Quackity laughs. Tubbo doesn’t. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Tubbo nods, smirking but utterly sure of himself. “Jack Manifold has been working in customer service for however many years it’s been now, with Tommy being a bother for at least half that time. Do you have any idea how close that man is to snapping?”

“Does he know how to use a gun?”

“Yeah. And a bat,” Tubbo says simply.

Quackity tries to read Tubbo’s face for some sign of insincerity. “Fuck it, you’re the boss now, do what you want.”

Tubbo smiles a bit more weakly at that. “Right. I’m the boss.”

Quackity puts a hand on his shoulder, the best he can manage to reassure him. "I will be back as soon as I can, Tubbo. Promise."

“You know you can leave, Quackity,” Tubbo says.

“I know, I know, I’m going–”

“No, I mean. I’d like your help, at least in the beginning, but if you and Karl want to get the fuck out of here, I want that for you,” Tubbo looks too old. Quackity almost can’t believe the kid had just turned eighteen the day prior, but then again, Tubbo has had a weight on his shoulders his whole life.

Quackity hesitates. He doesn’t need Tubbo’s permission and he doesn’t think that’s what Tubbo is offering, he’s letting him go as a friend, not an authority. “We’ll see how your first meeting goes, boss,” Quackity gives him a pat on the back. “I gotta change into something a little less gross, get ready to scare some pigs.”

“Give them hell, Big Q.”

“Always,” Quackity grins. He doesn’t look in the master bedroom as he leaves. When he next returns, Schlatt will be gone and he will pretend that means nothing to him.

“Captain?” There is urgent knocking on the door of Sam’s office.

“Yes?” Sam answers irritably. “I hope this is important–”

“I don’t know,” the Officer looks anxious. He’s new, just on desk duty at the moment. “She said– She said you were gonna want to talk to her?”

Sam frowns, following him out.

Sam doesn’t know what he was expecting, he hadn’t listened in on Ponk’s phone call of course, doubting it would be of any use to him, but he had been curious as to who Ponk would call. He certainly hadn’t expected they’d call their boss when arrested. That is the opposite of what most people would do, but Eret King stands in the lobby in irritable glory. She is not dressed for a 7 am run to the police station, instead a deep purple evening gown reaches the floor, wrinkled slightly just as her curls are a bit askew and her lipstick faded, her red tipped cane is unchanged, simple in its design save for an ornate handle, black sunglasses on as always; a bombshell, and an intimidating one at that. She’s clearly come straight from one party or another, but she definitely doesn’t look tired or weak in any way. At her side is a much shorter man– although that’s not hard, she towers over Sam as well, heels or no heels– in a black suit, a chauffeur's hat in his left hand, his right arm offered to Eret should she need it. Sam vaguely remembers him from the work events Ponk had dragged him along to, he works for Eret as well, HBomb if he remembers right.

“It’s Sam, Eret,” HBomb murmurs at his approach.

“Mhm, yes. The Captain,” Eret says scornfully, facing Sam’s general direction, nails glittering under the harsh fluorescents as she drums them on the counter impatiently. “I’m sure you’re a busy man, Captain, so I’ll make this short. I’ve been informed that there’s been a mistake, leading to the arrest of my best curator. I’m here to collect them, because as I’m sure you’ve realized, my staff represent me, and I know your adorable little department would never accuse a King of any sort of criminal activity, or whatever this nonsense is about.”

Sam knows how this is going to go. As Eret said, she is the head of the King family at present and her estate could buy a small country. Maybe the Mayor isn’t entirely in her pocket, but he knows to respect her opinion when it is offered for the sake of his career. She is a threat and definitely knows it from that charming smile.

“Well, you can’t just collect them, Mr. King. They’re in our custody,” Sam says coolly.

Eret leans forward, bending down so they’re eye to eye. She lowers her sunglasses revealing startlingly pale eyes with a smile that almost appears wolfish. “Okay, and how do I get them out of your custody, Captain?” She says, sweet like poison, her voice deep and unwavering.

Sam forces himself not to step back. He doesn’t know how much of him she can see, but either way it feels like Eret looks right through him. “They’ve been formally charged with obstruction of justice. We are well within our rights to hold them.”

“Hm,” Eret pulls back. “Are they a flight risk, Captain?”

“No. I don’t believe so,” Sam says stiffly.

“That’s wonderful news, Captain. That means you’ve set bail, I presume?” Eret says.

“They are still being held for questioning.”

“Do they have a lawyer?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Sam says coldly.

“Can I speak with them?”

“Unless you’re their lawyer, no,” Sam snaps back. He has no intention of letting a rich snob try to order him around.

Eret sighs. “It’s a bit early for this, Captain. I’ve had a long night. I’m tired, but if I must,” she steps closer, “I understand this might call for some of my charm, just to encourage you to speed up this process a bit.” She smiles. “Captain, I can and will ruin you. Do you know that?”

“Are you threatening a police officer? Right here, in the middle of the station?” Sam snaps. Sam is used to threats, it’s her calm that unsettles him.

Eret laughs, low and dangerous. “Do you really think a person of my status need messy my hands with something as trivial as threats? No, Captain. Let’s call this a civil courtesy, or even friendly advice, shall we? I could ruin your career with a word. And as I said, accusing one of my people is the same as accusing me and see, we Kings don’t take insults like that lightly.” A pause, waiting for Sam’s defense. He says nothing, jaw tense. “Hm,” she seems amused by his efforts at restraint. “Last night I had drinks with people far more powerful than you. I had drinks with some of the people who employ you, who drag you out of the muck every time one of your trigger happy fools make a mistake. And even then, none of them are as powerful as me,” she inclines her head in almost a bow, like this is a proclamation of humility rather than pride. “I find it… well, rather sweet that you think organized crime is the greatest danger in this city, but you don’t seem to realize how much more you have to lose beyond your life. See, I don’t need to threaten you, to use violence or some irritating illegal exploits. See, I fucking own half this city and you, Captain,” another scathing look over her glasses, something somehow even more vicious there than before. “Are nothing but a dog on a leash.”

Sam feels like he can hear his blood pumping through his ears. She didn’t quite anger him, that would be too simple, but he definitely felt wrong. Sam forces his tone to remain flat and unfeeling, “unless you are their lawyer, you have no right to speak with my suspect. Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. King?”

“Hm,” Eret is still smiling. Sam tries not to let that make him feel uneasy. “May I borrow your phone?”

“There’s a payphone just outside.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Eret turns around, accepting HBomb’s arm and returning to the street.

Sam lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “She’s a lot scarier than I remember,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” the lackey at the desk agrees nervously.

“You didn’t hear that.”

“O-Oh– Yes, Captain.”

Eret hasn’t even dialed when HBomb gently taps her arm.

“It’s Quackity. Quackity HQ– He’s walking toward the precinct. He’s probably a pretty good option, and I mean, he’s right here,” HBomb says.

Eret sets down the phone, “which way?”

HBomb turns her in his direction.

“Mr HQ?” Eret calls.

Quackity stops. “You’re… You’re Eret, right? You’re a King, or I guess the King right now. I remember you from… Niki’s place,” Quackity says vaguely. “Look, while I’m sure you’ve got something interesting and ideally profitable to tell me, I’m actually here to help a friend–”

“Ponk, right?”

Quackity stops, caught off guard. “Yeah, yeah it’s Ponk,” he turns to face her, surprised. “They work for you. Are you–” He grows wary. “Why are you here?”

“Niki sent me. I am only here to help them. However I can. I know you’re not cheap, Mr. HQ. Bill my office, okay?” Eret says.

“Nah, I wasn’t gonna charge th–” Quackity quickly stops himself, realizing he had almost thrown away a very rewarding opportunity. “Thank you, Mr. King. I will.”

“The Captain was being rather avoidant, but HBomb and I will hang around. If he posts bail, please tell me. I can take them home…” Eret stops, thinking again of the man she had just spoken to, the last time she had met him, he’d stuck close to Ponk’s side, sounding nervous among rich museum donors, but Ponk had reassured him, calling him handsome and promising they could go home soon. “Or not home, but wherever they want to be.”

Quackity gives her a nod before realizing a verbal reply would probably be more effective. “Uh, will do.”

“Thank you.”

Sam had maybe expected Eret King to return, waving threats of whatever team of lawyers her family had, he had not expected Quackity HQ to enter the precinct with clear antagonistic intent.

“You,” Sam says before he can stop himself. “You?” Quackity HQ had been a goliath haunting the police department. He had gotten Schlatt out of legal consequences more times than Sam can count, not to mention being wholly responsible for what few members of the Badlands that had ever gotten arrested never being tried and is solely responsible for Captain Puffy’s graceful and legal retirement from the police force, expertly ensuring her illegal exploits are politely ignored at the risk of destroying the department’s reputation. Quackity should come with a danger warning to every officer unfortunate enough to be in his presence. There is only one reason for him to be here, however little that computes in Sam’s mind. “You’re Ponk’s lawyer?”

Quackity grins with more than a little delighted malice behind it, gesturing grandly to himself. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes!”

Logically, Sam could guess Ponk had mob affiliations, but Quackity HQ? “You’re… You’re taking on Ponk as a client? Not really your usual work.”

Quackity leans against the counter, hands folded in front of him. “Ponk is a good friend, a good guy.”

“And you would know?” Sam says icily.

“Oh yeah, of course,” Quackity says with mocking earnestness. “You know, Sam. Can I call you Sam?”

“No.”

“Sam, Ponk has told me all about you.”

Sam scowls, bitter anger returning. “Oh yeah? Let me guess. They told you what time I got off work, where I’m stationed, where my staff will be, maybe even when I’ll be out of the office for a break in, huh? Did I get any of that right?” He says dryly.

“Oh no, Sam,” Quackity first feigns hurt, a hand over his heart. Then he smiles with too many teeth and every bone in Sam’s body says run. “Nothing like that. Just how much they love you, how sweet you are with your dog, how they worried about you because you work so much, and they can’t wait to go home and see you,” Quackity gives Sam an unimpressed once over. “And so on.”

Sam is struck by the profound feeling that he’s doomed. Doomed of what he has no clue, but doomed nonetheless.

“So where are they, Captain?”

Sam almost preferred when he mockingly called him Sam. Captain almost feels like Quackity is painting a target on his back.

Ponk looks up sharply when the door opens. Sam enters, followed by Quackity.

“Oh thank fuck,” Ponk’s shoulders sag with relief. “H-Hey, Quackity,” they smile weakly.

Quackity steps around the table, assessing them carefully. “You hurt?” He asks them the same thing he had asked Tubbo the night before, with the same tone of gentle worry. It’s already clear the answer is yes, the question remaining is how bad.

Ponk hesitates, glancing toward Sam before quickly looking away. They nod.

“Were you hurt here? In custody?”

Another nod.

“Okay. Good. I know it doesn’t sound like it, but that’s, generally speaking, good,” Quackity had hoped he’d be able to catch up a bit more from what Ponk knows so he’d know what he was dealing with, but it’s obvious Ponk needs serious help, so he turns back to Sam, worry sharply traded for loathing. “My client is going to be released. Now.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” Sam refuses to look at Ponk.

“They need medical attention.”

“We can provide that.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Because they haven’t asked. How are we supposed to know they need medical help if they never asked?” Sam feigns innocence.

Quackity pauses, glancing back to Ponk for confirmation.

“Didn’t realize I…” they mumble. “He’s the one that did this, so. Thought he knew. And just, I dunno. He was refusing to get me help or something.”

Quackity nods, irritated but understanding. “Okay. So, my client is not a flight risk, so why are they staying in custody?”

“Because we still have reason to question them.”

Quackity smiles, bouncing back on his heels. “Well, then. Let’s get a move on, shall we? I can see you take your questioning very seriously,” thinly veiled rage behind every word. He’s the one that did this. Quackity had already had punishing intentions for Sam– cops are scum by nature, but a cop that arrests their partner, a partner who had been nothing but devoted to him, even if they didn’t always give him the whole truth, that deserves bloody retribution.

Quackity sits beside Ponk. “Are you going to call in a medic or what?” He snaps at Sam. “And if you think for a second I won’t be reporting their injuries–“ Quackity laughs. “Well, Captain or not, you still have a boss, don’t you?”

Sam ignores him, returning to his place across the table. “You do that. Ponk is going to tell me who they’ve been giving information to, and then I will make their medical care my top priority.”

Quackity grows more agitated. He knows he cannot force Sam to release them from questioning, but there are other means of making this easier.

“You cannot withhold medical care from someone in your custody, Captain. And Ponk, as your lawyer I advise you not to answer any of his questions,” it’s redundant, Ponk definitely knows that, it’s just one step in several of making it clear Sam’s interrogation efforts will do nothing but give Quackity more ammo to dismiss the case altogether.

“Yep, got it,” Ponk says wearily.

Quackity stares at the table, black coffee beginning to dry to its surface and definitely having soaked Ponk’s left arm, which is much more swollen than the right.

“What’s this?”

“Spilled coffee,” Sam says simply.

Quackity gives another vicious smile, “Right. Of course.”

He turns back to Ponk, speaking quietly. “Burns?”

“Y-Yeah. It–” they stop with a shaky inhale. “Yeah.”

“Do you think it’s a break?”

“Probably. Hurts like a motherfucker.”

“Okay. Don’t worry, we’ll get you out, no problem,” Quackity puts a gentle hand on their other shoulder. He turns back to Sam. “Captain, Ponk will not be answering anything today. If you want to question them, I would be happy to supervise or negotiate a time for that depending on what you can offer, but if you expect either of our cooperation, you’re going to release Ponk now.”

Sam considers this for a moment, calculating something. “Okay. How about this. I will release them, assuming they can pay bail, if you agree to come in for questioning, Mr. HQ.”

“Me?” Quackity laughs. “Buddy, I’m a defense attorney, not a suspect.”

“Okay, either you and Ponk both stay here until we can have a reasonable discussion, or Ponk leaves, and you and I discuss their charges and… other relevant information,” Sam remains calm and unyielding. Quackity wants to stab a pen into his smug fucking face.

“I’d be happy to,” Quackity sneers.

“Quackity, I mean,” Ponk laughs nervously, gesturing to their hurt arm. They don’t want Quackity alone if Sam and his lackeys are really so quick to violence. “If you’re here with me, I can deal with–“

“You can go to a hospital, Ponk,” Quackity cuts them off. “I’ll be fine. This is literally my job. And trust me, big dogs like this…” Quackity gives Sam a once over, tutting him softly. “Well, they get pretty pathetic when whoever they’re talking to isn’t chained to a fucking table.”

Ponk keeps looking at their broken arm. The pain has made this entire conversation hard to focus on. They’re too tired to argue. “What’s bail set as?”

“$1,400,” Sam says.

Ponk looks up at Sam head on for the first time since he’d returned, cautious. Maybe Ponk could scrape that kind of money together from their joint account, but not from their personal one. One look at Sam’s face and they know he has no intention of letting them touch that money. Unless there’s some legal defense entitling them, Quackity would know better.

“Bail is taken care of,” Quackity says.

“What? Quackity, that’s too–“

“Not by me, you kidding?” Quackity scoffs. “It’s your boss, Eret. She’s been waiting outside.”

“Eret?!“ Ponk sits up, bewildered and a bit nervous, before wincing as their arm protests the movement.

“Don’t worry about it, man. She doesn’t believe this shit for a second. Just wanted to help. I think Niki told her,” Quackity says quickly.

“Oh,” Ponk relaxes a bit.

“Captain?” Quackity gestures to the cuffs.

Ponk can’t help but flinch when Sam grabs their hand, but the relief is immediate. Blood has beaded up where the cuff had dug into their wrists, more starkly on their left, a thin line encircling it and pushing back against where the broken bone had caused swelling. It still hurts to move, even if only to cradle their broken arm close to their chest. Sam goes to steer Ponk out of the room, looking like he’s about to drag them out with a hand on their right arm, but Quackity puts himself between the two of them immediately with a glare, Sam towering over him, but Quackity doesn’t move or let Sam move an inch closer to them. Sam doesn’t acknowledge him, simply leads the way.

“You’re letting them go?” Dream stops Sam with a hand on his arm, Quackity and Ponk continuing forward.

“Can I help you, officer?” Sam says coldly.

“But we have them, if you could’ve just kept that lawyer busy and let me try–”

“Go back to your desk, Now,” Sam snaps almost like an angry parent.

Dream pushes past him without another word. He’s limping, Sam notes. Not just a little, but badly, however hard he seems to be trying to cover it up. Maybe when he’s less miserable he’ll ask if he’s okay.

Sam lets the two of them out into the lobby, going to the front desk and telling him to fine Eret, who has been waiting impatiently in the lobby.

“Hey, Ponk,” HBomb gives them a little wave.

“Hey,” Ponk nods. “Um, Eret, you don’t– I don’t know how to–“

“Don’t worry about it, Ponk. This is nothing to me and I’d much rather make sure you’re okay,” Eret shoves a wad of cash across the counter without another thought. “Actually, H, check my count. I’m not giving these bastards a cent more. You can pocket the rest.”

HBomb counts the bills, taking back a $100 bill before returning it. Maybe Ponk shouldn’t be surprised that Eret had $1,500 cash on her, but they have to admit that much money is a daunting thought. Ponk doesn’t like knowing how much they needed other people to get them out of this.

“How’re you doing, Ponk?” Eret asks.

“Been worse?” They try to keep their tone light, but Ponk is so relieved this is over they could just pass out.

“HBomb?” Eret asks.

“Uh, their arm looks pretty busted up. And a bloody nose. And they look really tired– no offense–“ HBomb adds quickly. “They have a big bruise on their chin too.”

Ponk shifts uncomfortably under the attention. HBomb needs to be Eret’s eyes and Ponk knows that, but it isn’t exactly pleasant to have a catalogue of their visible injuries passed along.

“Take them to a hospital,” Quackity speaks up. “Make sure they take note of their injuries, maybe see if you can get ahold of a camera. We’re gonna need evidence. I’ll handle stuff here.”

“You’ll need to reach them–” Eret turns to HBomb. “Can you give him my card?”

“Uh, yep! Yep, one sec–” HBomb rummages through his pockets before passing a card to Quackity.

“The first number is the museum, the second is my car, and, H–”

“Already got it,” HBomb snatches the card back and grabs a pen from behind the desk, scribbling a third number on the back before returning it.

“And that one is for my home. If that’s alright, Ponk, you can stay at mine. And if Quackity needs to reach you, he can,” Eret says.

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine.”

“You… have a phone in your car?” Quackity stares down at the card with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, yes. It’s come in handy quite a bit,” Eret shrugs offhandedly. “And since we’re going to be running from the hospital to wherever else, that might be the best choice to call. Or Prime Memorial hospital.”

“Prime Memorial– that’s–” Ponk winces.

“A very nice hospital, yes. Which I will gladly take care of whatever insurance doesn’t cover,” Eret says firmly.

“Eret, I don’t need your charity,” Ponk doesn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but it’s been hard enough feeling like they’ve spent the past hours waiting to be rescued.

“It’s not charity. You’ve been a good employee and a good friend. Of course, if you’re not comfortable with it, that’s okay,” Eret is unwavering.

“Just let her do it, Ponk. She might as well be paying for a cab it’s so little to her. No offense,” Quackity says, Eret unbothered. “I’ll do what I can here, but I’ll definitely have to call you later so I can get the details from your end of things.”

Ponk doesn’t have the energy left to argue. If their bone had broken through the skin they would’ve bled out by now, but the pain alone is making it harder and harder to stay standing, and they have no idea how severe the burns actually are. They nod.

"Ponk, before you go, can I speak with you alone for a minute?" Quackity follows them to the entryway where there's enough background noise to cover their conversation. "Is there anything I need to know?"

Ponk glances furtively back at the front desk where Eret seems to be doing her best to make Sam uncomfortable.

"I– S-So," Ponk takes a deep breath. Fuck– Everything hurts, but they know why they need to do this now. "Sam saw me coming back to the apartment late with his keys, so including his work keys. A-And lately a lot of police information has seemingly been getting out, shit like the mob always avoiding their patrols and things. And he seems to think... he seems to think I did that," Ponk says very carefully and very deliberately.

Quackity nods, understanding immediately that Ponk very much was the one sharing that information. "Okay, okay got it. But all he's got is you with some fucking keys?"

"Yeah? As far as I know."

”Good. He doesn’t have jack shit.”

"I-If he offers a deal or something, I can't give him what he wants. I can't tell him who I was giving that information to– it'll– it'll make all of this pointless I can't do that–" Ponk sounds utterly frantic.

"Hey, it's okay, man. I am going to get you out of this. No deals, no nothing, okay? This piece of shit won't even get you in a court room," Quackity is utterly vindictive.

"How the hell will you–"

"Ponk, I am a very good lawyer," Quackity grins, dangerous enough that Ponk believes him.

"Okay. Okay, thank you, Quackity, really," Ponk turns back toward the desk, HBomb seeing them and tugging on Eret's sleeve to let her know.

“Come on then, Ponk. We’ll make them pay for this, okay? Wrongfully arresting a member of my staff– they’ll regret it,” Eret offers Ponk her arm. “Would you mind?” She did not need help leaving the station, and if she did that was part of HBomb’s job at present, her offer was for Ponk’s sake.

“Yeah, sure,” Ponk takes her arm with their right. She gives their hand a gentle squeeze and Ponk lets her support them, if only until they get to the car. Ponk is almost out the door before they think to look back. Sam isn’t looking at them, instead looking at Quackity, and whatever he seems to be saying in their defense. At the last second Sam looks up and stares back. For a moment Sam shows something human, Sam does not look guilty, but he does look hurt. Ponk tries to find the hatred Sam must surely deserve, but they can’t.

Their entire reality has shifted from even twelve hours ago.

#I have been so excited for this one #my writing #mafia au #quackity and eret are sooo fine in this one #as always feedback is cherished <3

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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I don't know what it is but my god has Tumblr gotten shit over the years, with them flagging photos you put up even if I got nothing to do with NSFW stuff, YET porn blogs can have full-on sex gifs going, but I can't post a photo of my cat having a sleep on her back (true story, happened to me on an old blog) and now writers' work is getting hidden behind walls because of Tumblr's stupid new settings. one day we are going to say Fuck you Tumblr and find a new place. but let's not forget the people thinking this is IG and only liking stuff, yeah it's nice to like but it's better to reblog =)

the saddest part is that the solution SHOULD BE simple but most users will never take the time to fix their settings :/ if tumblr wants community labels I can understand that but it should be opt-in and they should actually explain to people what it is and how to turn it off... better yet, users should have to enter their birth date and if it's under 18 the labels get turned on, if not they have to turn them on themselves!

I wanna start crossposting on ao3 again but I am ~lazy~ so I forget a lot

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icannotreadcursive · 2 years

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Hello it's me again. Tell me if you want me to stop sending you asks nonstop, I do not fully understand how interaction on the internet works and so I base everything I do on whether I'd enjoy it myself and I would, but I recognize you might feel different and bwahdgahhhkjkkljkll

Anyway, how did you first get into writing fanfic? How did you get over the feeling that everything you write is #cringebad? I know every writer thinks that...

Hello! I quite enjoy getting asks but rarely receive them, so honestly this is great, don't even worry about it hon

As for how I got into writing fanfic, I really started writing things that would count as fanfic long before I knew about "fanfic" or "fandon" as concepts.

Like, I wrote a sequel to the musical Cats when I was 5 or 6. And for some elementary school creative writing assignment I wrote about the kids of a bunch of my favorite book and movie characters going to school together. I just naturally engage with stories by making up more stories.

I actually discovered fanfiction . net in middleschool--I think the only things I ever posted to that account were a continuation of an anime that had ended like mid-arc and a Harry Potter fic with just the most unabashed self-insert mary sue going to Howgwarts with like Harry's kids and all that generation. I stopped using that account and switched over to a second ffn account I initially made to keep my Brokeback Mountain fic separate because that movie's rated R, so that fic felt grown up and different to me, and I was kind of hiding it from my mom, but that didn't last long because I'm a terrible liar.

That fisrt ffn account is long gone, I took those fics down, but some parts of the HP fic stil exist re-worked without the self-insert character and can be found as the And The Family Circus series on my Ao3. My other ffn account is still up (unless the site purged it, I haven't checked on it in a while) but everything on there has been crossposted to my Ao3, except for my very first Brokeback fic, which I cannot bring myself to take down but which I have grown so far past as a person and a writer.

Now, I want to make a point that no, not every writer feels like everything they write is #cringebad. A lot of writers are insecure about their writing--hell, I know successful professional screenwriters with movies you can call up to watch right now who dread other people seeing their writing! But that's a learned insecurity, it's not an inherent part of being a writer.

I'm lucky enough to have grown up with a lot of support for my writing. My family's always treated my interests with respect, and I just kinda didn't make friends with people growing up who would be jerks about that kind of stuff, so I never got that social shaming as a kid that teaches you that your interests and creative endeavors are bad or cringe or a waste of time because you'll never be good enough to make anything of it or whatever.

Do I look back some of my old writing, from like high school, and cringe? Yeah, absolutely. Cuz I've learned enough to see now that it's clunky and unrefined and dialogue is stilted and unnatural and the character interactions don't make sense and a lot of it is hamhanded and messy--but it's the writing of a child, of someone still learning not just how to write but how to be a person. So I cringe with fondness for who I was and the enthusiasm I had to so confidently put that mess out into the world, and I thank the stars that I've grown since then.

But yeah, I write primarily for myself, and I enjoy what I write, so I figure I must be doing a pretty good job. The fact that other people enjoy it too is a wonderful bonus.

And I do know that every writer (except maybe a few who are delusionally arrogant) has moments while we're writing when we're fighting with it and every word we're putting down feels wrong and it's like damnit this is terrible, I don't know what I'm doing, this is so bad, why am I doing this???

At that point you either gotta push through and tell yourself that's a second draft problem--because the most important thing is getting it on the page, you can edit bad writing but you can't refine something that doesn't exist--or you take a breath, take a break, take a walk, just put it down for a while and when you come back you may find you have a better feel for how to handle the scene or you may find what you already wrote isn't as bad as you thought.

Well, that got long, but yeah, that's my story and my thoughts on the matter.

Thanks for the ask!

#eiiri answers

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kinetic-elaboration · 4 months

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February 15: Writing Plans

Extremely tired and unproductive today but we are very close to the weekend so I think I can make it. Now that I’ve posted my Hey Sweetheart fic, I am, technically, not working on anything. Except my drawer fic and a mountain of editing. I feel like I’ve been going through the same lists for a while—working, but not as fast as I can make plans to write stuff in the future—but nevertheless I’m going to go over it again.

Also, I had this idea that maybe I’d try to prod myself to write regularly on both Saturdays and Sundays. On Saturdays, I could work on something from the WIP list, and continue to attempt progress there. And on Sundays I could start writing another Daria fic. I’ve had a lot of thoughts for it and I’d like to get them down so I can remember them, re-read and enjoy them later. Plus, the positive reaction to my Hey Sweetheart fic has been really, really encouraging, I’m not going to lie. Totally unexpected but lovely.

So, here’s sort of the to do across different categories:

For writing, I’ve got the old 2017-era Jonty fic up first. I still need to re-read it and spruce up my notes. I wanted to do it before the weekend but unless I do it tomorrow that obviously won’t happen. We’ll see. I don’t fully know what to expect from going back into this project but the basic steps are simple: re-read/re-orient, then write three distinct scenes, then it’s finally done.

Also up next on writing, the Sunday component, a longer-form Daria/Jane fic I’ve been toying around with. I don’t know quite how I’m going to translate it to the page yet but I’m kinda excited about it, since the drawer fic and Hey Sweetheart have been so fun.

Farther ahead, I’m still hoping to start my Miller/Bellamy Road Trip after the Jonty fic, and then I guess I gotta acknowledge SGAU again.

Then, in the world of editing. I’ve started reading through Chapter 4 of the Time Loop. My desire to work on this at all has almost totally evaporated (much like the interest of anyone in reading it? Lololol it’s fine) but I got to slog through. I am about a sixth of the way through the chapter. I think I’ll post it probably the week after next, but that’s just a guess. Then on to Chapter 5, which I think will be easier both because it’s a bit shorter and because I remember being pleased with it as I wrote.

Afterwards, I want to crosspost Mist to AO3, with some slight edits, and then I have a massive Bellarke fic (talk about timing in times like these) that I finished writing 6+ months ago but haven’t looked at since. By the time all that is done, it should be time to edit the Jonty fic—or at least, I hope so!

#the year 2024 #2024: writing thoughts

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glimmeringtwilight · 2 years

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The Lone and Level Sands - Chapter 5

Tempted to write a Childe oneshot between chapters as well because this fic was initially intended to be like. A series of oneshots under the same premise, but then Zhongli's first chapter became 4k words, so I worked on a second, which also became 4k....... Yeah.

I'm also considering writing some SAGAU stuff but I'm not sure what. Maybe I'll start with hcs.

Crossposted on AO3 HERE.

CW: Non-consensual drugging, non-consensual touching (NOT sexual), angst. Idk.

“You should eat something.” He says.

“Did you drug the food?”

“No.” He doesn’t even bat an eye at the accusation. No indignation, no playing coy and acting confused as to why you’d be suspicious of it. At least he’s self aware.

“Did you drug the tea? The wine?”

“You don’t have to drink either, should you wish not to. I can fetch you a glass of water, instead?” That doesn’t answer your question. He knows it doesn’t answer your question, just as he knows you’re not stupid. The implication is clear.

Maybe it’s not better that he’s self aware.

“Whatever.” You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you could fold in on yourself if only to escape his stare. “Just start talking.”

Zhongli finally closes his eyes, freeing you from the weight of his gaze. You let out a quiet, relieved breath. “Very well. You have known me as Zhongli, but before that I went by a different name.” A pause, as he considered something. “You heard what happened at the last Rite of Descension?”

There’s a sinking feeling in your gut. You nod. Then, realizing his eyes are shut and he can’t see the motion, you quickly mutter a quiet ‘yes’ so he doesn’t open those eyes again and pin you under his stare.

“Mm. And do you believe it?”

“I don’t really care.” Liar. You do. But he doesn’t need to know that. “If he’s dead, he’s dead. Everything dies eventually.”

If he’s bothered by your blasé response, he doesn’t show it. If anything, you think you see a smile threatening the corners of his mouth. “And if I told you he wasn’t?”

“Stop beating around the bush.” You snap. You just want him to get the crazy shit out of his system. Maybe he’ll let you go once it’s run its course. …Maybe he’ll kill you. Or, maybe he’ll at least let you retreat to the guest bedroom again so you can shut him and the world out with sleep.

“Fine. Before I was known as Zhongli, I lived as Morax-”

“Yeah, and I’m a purple geovishap.” It leaves your mouth before you can stop yourself, wincing when those eyes snap back open to stare at you. It makes sense. It makes sense but you don’t want to believe it. Of course he has the Conqueror of Demons at his beck and call if he’s motherfucking Morax, God of War. But you don’t want to believe it. You won’t. If you deny it, it stops being true. So, it’s not true. It’s not.

You cling to denial like a lifeline, because it’s better than the alternative. Better than accepting how well and truly fucked you are, because of course he couldn’t be a regular-ass dude. The universe could never be that kind to you. If anything, this is karma, isn’t it? For the promise you whispered to life into the stars, of hate and malice, of an endless cycle chasing revenge.

“What would it take to convince you?” He asks suddenly, ripping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Huh?”

Sunset eyes appraise you for a long moment, before he begins removing his rings, setting them on the table beside his cup. When he tugs off a glove, you speak up.

“Woah, woah-” The act isn’t even anything lewd, but seeing Zhongli undress even a little bit is jarring. You’ve seen him in more casual clothes, sure, but always with long sleeves and gloves. What the fuck is he doing? “I’m not interested in a strip show.”

He takes off his other glove.

“Look! I believe you, ok? You’re Morax! Ok. Sure. Whatever. Put your gloves back on-” “Am I not allowed to get comfortable in my own home?” He’s teasing you again. Motherfucker. You want to throw your drink at him. You would, actually, had he not just told you he’s the God of War. Yeah, no. Suddenly, it’s not worth it.

“Not in front of me, you’re not. I didn’t consent to seeing this.”

“They’re just hands, my dear. Do my hands bother you that much?”

“Yes.” He suddenly looks a little smug, and you immediately backtrack. “No. No, I mean.”

Maybe it is worth it to throw your drink at him. But before you can decide which to throw, the tea or the wine, Zhongli speaks up again.

“What I wanted to show you…” He begins, outstretching an arm across the table for you to see better. You gawk when the skin of his hand darkens, growing claws, gold markings like tattoos flaring to life on his wrist and the back of his hand. “Is this.”

It’s… damning evidence. You remember reading about Morax’s appearance, the glowing markings, geo etching itself across his being. It’s beautiful.

Part of you wants to reach out and touch it, and it’s like he seems to sense this, outstretching his hand further so it’s within reach. Instead, you bite your cheek, snap yourself out of your awe, and lean heavily back into your chair.

The offending hand retreats. You blink and it’s normal again, the only sign it ever happened being the tattoos you see on his exposed skin.

“The food’s getting cold.” He says mildly as he slips back on his gloves.

You cross your arms, glaring down at the plate that sits untouched in front of you. “I’m not hungry.”

You watch him carefully as he pours himself another cup of tea, taking a sip. …Surely that tea is safe? He wouldn’t drug himself. “Let me rephrase that: You’re staying here until you eat something.”

He doesn’t flinch at your glare. You don’t budge.

“Don’t be difficult. I’ll feed you myself if I must.”

That spurs you into action, hesitantly taking a spoon to try some of the soup in front of you. As much as you distrust him, as likely as it is the food is drugged, you don’t want to tempt him to force feed you.

Zhongli looks pleased as you do, but from the way he isn’t watching you like a hawk, instead focusing on his own meal, you wonder if he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t drug your food.

You eat in silence, stomaching as much of the meal as you can. Slowly, though, in the hopes that if you eat slow enough you can catch the drugs kicking in and stop before it does any damage. Not that it’d work, but it’s worth a shot.

To his credit… or to whoever’s credit it is that made the meal, it’s delicious. Unfortunately. It’d be easier to hate this ordeal if it were disgusting. Or bland, at the very least.

Zhongli– what do you even call him anymore?– doesn’t say anything more, seemingly content with your company. You wait until he’s preoccupied with his own meal before deciding to pour yourself a new cup of tea, from the same pot he was drinking from. Whether his lack of reaction is a good or a bad sign, you’re not sure.

The tea is faintly sweet on your tongue, a far cry from the bitterness of whatever he drugged you with last time, so you figure there’s nothing wrong with it, taking less and less tentative sips.

He finally speaks up, done, you suppose, with granting you the mercy of strained silence. No, why would he let you sit there and glare daggers at him in incensed quiet, wishing you could strike him dead with looks alone? Instead, he begins to talk– not to you, more at you, and you feel so out of place, suddenly.

Like a new doll, set on the highest shelf in this lavish, empty, unlived in home. His voice fades to background noise. You stare at the assortment of food in front of you, at the heavy curtains blocking the light from the windows, at the untarnished and almost new rug decorating the floor.

You dimly realize your mistake in drinking the tea when Zhongli rises from his seat, realizing you were staring absently down at the table in a haze. You realize your mistake when he steps over to you, kneeling beside your chair to gently ease you into his arms, and instead of skittering away, instead of throwing your still-hot tea into his eyes, you can only stare blearily up at him. You realize your mistake when the only rebellion you can muster through the fog that snuck up on you is a slurred “fuck you” that you’re not even sure sounded like it at all.

Bastard, you think absently, of course he drugged the tea. And of course it doesn’t affect him.

In hindsight, it was foolish to think a sedative could have the same effect on him as it does you. But you can’t even bitch at him for lying to you, because technically, he didn’t, but your pride still stings indignantly at the knowledge that he definitely tricked you. Not that you can say much in your current state anyway.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” Zhongli asks, his voice slicing through the haze.

You show him your favorite finger. He tuts.

Somehow, the two of you were in the living room. Weren’t you just in the dining room? It felt like you’d only blinked and suddenly the scenery around you changed, but your vision is too blurry anyway to focus on much besides those intense amber eyes.

He sets you on the couch and you slur out a nonsensical protest, slumping and almost slipping off of it ‘til gloved hands catch you and gently prop you up so you don’t fall off.

“...I’m sorry, I think I overestimated how much of a dose you would need.” But you’re not sorry for drugging me. Sweet. Priorities, amirite? His remorse is performative, you decide cynically, blocking out his expression by closing your eyes.

Gloved hands card through your hair, coaxing you to lay down in Zhongli’s lap. He’s talking again, of bygone animals, songs and artworks, lost to time. Lost to war.

You only half listen, floating listlessly in the haze forced upon you. He’s unbothered by your lack of response to his stories, by the fact you’re clearly not listening to him, not fully. He seems more content to just bask in the moment, in your presence, in your (unwilling) company.

When your hazy eyes drift back up to him, he’s in a far off place, eyes focused on the wall behind you as he recounts a story in what you’re sure is undoubtedly perfect detail. The only thing still grounding him here, to this terrible, peaceful moment, is the hand still absently petting your hair.

Despite yourself, despite the indignant rage still simmering dimly, smothered beneath the ocean of the drug that tries to silence your rebellion, you can’t help but think he looks lonely.

And he really is, isn’t he? There’s a weight to him, a heaviness to his gaze, a kind of old and bitter resignation, a tiredness. Living as long as he has, pain and loss and the passage of time have all spared him no mercy.

It doesn’t excuse this. Doesn’t make it better, doesn’t kiss away the wrongness of it all, but… He’s suffered a lot. You can’t begin to imagine it; can’t begin to imagine the loneliness. And there are far too few gods, far too few immortals left for him to confide in, and far too many mortals whose lives are too fleeting to understand.

You’re too damn much of a bleeding heart for this, you decide, averting your gaze when your own heart pangs in consolation. You’re lonely too. But not enough.

How many friends has he lost, you wonder. How many lovers? Something cold and heavy settles in your gut, coils around your spine– the dread too heavy to dull with the drug still fogging all of your senses. Which one will you be? What notch on this pillar of loneliness, of loss?

The thought that you’re not the first, that you won’t be the last, chills you.

Zhongli finally glances down at you, and you wonder if the pity must show on your face, because the ancient loneliness that crept onto his own melts away.

“I know you must think I’m a monster,” And his glove is so warm as he moves to cup your cheek with it. You tell yourself it’s just the drug that makes you want to lean into it, to close your eyes and sleep cradled in this warmth. The drug. The drug, the drug, the drug, and not the aching pangs of loneliness that is your own, not the long-neglected need to be touched as gently and warmly as he’s doing now.

“...But allow me to be selfish, just this once.” A thumb moves to brush against your eyelid, coaxing it shut. “You’ll come to forgive me.”

You’re reminded of Lee. Of the promise you made to him, of the pain he put you through. The bleeding of your heart stops, cauterized by anger. No. No, you won’t fall for this again. You won’t fall for the empty promise of tenderness and warmth.

“I won’t.” It comes out strained, taking more concentration than you’d like to form the words without slurring. You say it again, firmer. “I won’t. Not in a thousand years.”

“Then I will wait a thousand more. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

You want to tell him he can try, he can wait, and wait, and wait, until time sinks its claws into him, too, and turns him to sand, to a memory. But your tongue is too heavy, it’s too many words to struggle through, so instead you turn your head away from his hand and close your eyes.

The hand caressing your cheek retreats and you feel cold.

Zhongli doesn’t continue talking, letting you bask in silence. You almost wish he’d keep talking when exhaustion begins to creep up on you, and you’re not sure if his rumbling voice or the silence would put you to sleep first.

Still, you fight the tendrils of sleep curling around your psyche. As blissful a reprieve it is, to pretend you’re not here, you’re still at your home, your shop, free to come and go as you please… to go back to when the two of you were friends, to dream of the budding crush you’d developed for him that he’d snuffed out beneath his heel… Sleep feels like a defeat, now. Now that you’re not choosing it, not retreating to the guest room to spitefully shut him out behind sleep’s peaceful curtain.

There’s something that’s been nagging you. You’re almost scared to ask, knowing deep down it’s a touchy subject, an invasive question.

“What was Guizhong to you?” He stiffens under you. You don’t open your eyes, and steel your jaw against the impending blow.

“Everything.” He whispers, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, so raw it feels sharp and grating on your ears. Then, as if he thought you didn’t hear it, he says it again, firmer, “Everything.”

“I can’t replace her.”

“You’re not a replacement for anything.” He’s angry, tone sharp, but it doesn’t stop the next words that come out of your mouth.

“How many?” When he doesn’t respond after a long moment, you open your eyes. His are closed. His jaw is tense. “How many before me?”

You picture a pillar, alone in the sand, engraved with thousands of notches. Hundreds of thousands of gravestones, stretching on into forever. It might be an exaggeration, you don’t know.

“No one.” Your heart sinks. “You’re the first.”

The image shatters, twists and mangles into something worse. Two pillars, standing alone, nothing but desolate sand for miles.

Numbly, you wonder which of you will erode first.

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up, you’re in the guest bedroom once more. It’s dark, and your eyes struggle to adjust. The fog has lifted, at least, telling you the drug has worn off, and there doesn’t seem to be any clinging side-effects besides a deep-set grogginess.

The floor is cool against your feet when you slide out of bed. Your ankle aches, and you wonder if whatever he gave you had a painkiller in it as well, since you don’t remember it hurting this badly before falling asleep.

It’s quiet in here, and you wish it weren’t. You wish there was something other than the sound of your own pained gasps as you limp to the door, something to distract you from the sharp pain of vehemently exacerbating your injury over the past few days.

You don’t bother trying the window, knowing you wouldn’t make it over the walls before Xiao caught you again. That is, assuming you could even scale it a second time. Your ankle burns white hot with pain, as fierce as though the wound was still fresh, newly inflicted.

Still, you stumble out of the room and into the dark halls, feeling much like an apparition, a ghost hobbling down these lonely and quiet halls you wish you’d never known. You’re not even sure what you intend to do. Walk out the front door? You want to go back to sleep, to the warm bed, to the painless solace of unconsciousness.

The front door comes into view. You reach out, and a gentle but firm hand grabs your wrist. Ah, so not Xiao this time.

Zhongli doesn’t say anything and neither do you. You stand there, swaying listlessly, too tired to curse him out, to fight back. It was worth a shot, you think.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” He sounds just as tired as you feel, voice rough from sleep. You wonder what you’d done to wake him up. Was your stumbling through the halls that loud?

Still, you don’t fight when he moves to carry you. You don’t even react when your feet leave the ground, when you’re tucked against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and groggily marveling at how human it sounds.

Zhongli carries you quietly back to the guest bedroom, settling you down before pulling the sheets to cover you. His touch lingers for barely a second too long. Your eyes slide shut, the sharp ache in your ankle not enough to fend off sleep from beginning to drag you back under, now that you’re in a warm bed once more.

He doesn’t leave the room this time, moving to sit in the armchair between the window and the door, like he anticipates another attempt. He makes himself comfortable there, and you wonder if he plans to sleep like that. Probably. It’s not like you’ve given him reason to trust you alone, as even with your worsened ankle, still you try to escape.

“We’ll discuss this in the morning,” He warns lowly. You open your eyes a crack to look at him in the impossible dark of the room. His are shut again, face relaxed as he tries to go back to sleep. You huff, closing your eyes and ignoring his threat.

Whatever, Morax.

#chapter five #yandere #zhongli/reader #the lone and level sands series #zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli/reader #zhongli/you #my writing #dead dove do not eat #ao3 fucked up the formatting last time so this time tumblr sees the chapter first.

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herecomesjoon · 2 years

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Light Jar - Part 1

Pairing Kim Namjoon x Reader Rating 18+ (for the entire work) Genre/Tropes College AU, Friends to Lovers, Idiots to Lovers, fluff, angst, smut Warnings None for current chapter, Cursing, general college bullshit, Joon being big and beefy WC 3392 Crosspost AO3 - herecomessatvrn Summary When you leave your hometown for college, you hope that the distance will be enough to finally rid you of your crush on your best friend. When he transfers to the same university, two years later, immediately, the feelings come back. Now you dance around each other, positive that you two were only ever meant to be friends. A/N This started out as a car thought while listening to Escape (The Pina Colada Song)... don't ask. I had one plot in mind, but it sort of evolved from there, and I'm quite please with the way that this is going. I intended for a one-shot, but it sort of got too long, and I found a natural cut in the installments. I am intending for two parts, but who knows. Also, I did try to write this as anything BUT Joon, but here we are. With my 4th Joon fic. I should probably just accept it.

Series Master List Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

There are some things that are not set in stone. They change just like the shifting sea. And there are some things that were bound to happen, like the rising and the setting of the sun. It was inevitable that you would fall for your childhood friend.

Of course, when you were younger, still oblivious to the actual realities of a crush and romance, you would have vehemently denied that you would ever like Namjoon. Never in a million, billion years. But here you were, in your finall year of high school, and staring so hard at the back of his dumb head that you could have bored holes through his skull. Your heart ached just thinking about him.

He was so nice, and he made you laugh with his awkward but sincere antics. And he knew you the best of all of your friends. He would offer you his desert from lunch if you were having a bad day. And even more hilariously, he tried to get you to dance with him. Just to move and get the energy out, but he was so awful at it! And you loved it.

Even when people joked about how much you two hung out, you both just laughed it off, and kept to the story that you were just friends. You worked really hard to not betray the panic of being found out. Luckily, you would be leaving your hometown to go off to college, and some distance and time would help sooth this crush that really wasn’t that big a deal. Because the most important thing here was that you and Namjoon stayed friends. You valued that friendship more than any possibility of a relationship.

----------

The first couple years of college flew by, it seemed. And you had made so many friends, and carved out a little spot for yourself in this college town. Sure, being a barista wouldn't get you fame and fortune, but it was something you found that you loved. Your pottery… that could be done on the side. Also, the cafe you worked at loved the stuff you were making and featured your hand made mugs prominently at the register.

You were nearing the end of your shift, cleaning up after the late morning rush that was class change over. It was nice to see the regulars, and not so regulars, come through to get to know them. It was also a bonus that you got to subtly watch all the cute people come through, and you got lost in daydreams quite often, wondering what it would be like to be with them.

Not right now though, no time for that. You had side tasks to get done. You were in the process of running some things back to the dish sink when you saw someone standing at the register, looking at the little packs of pastries you sold from a local bakery.

“Hey! I'll be right there, just gonna set some stuff down!” You didn’t wait for a response and pushed the back room door open, and you heard the sound of those carefully packed pastries falling to the floor, and several “Oh shit! My bad, sorry! I got it!” A hand waved vaguely in your direction just above the counter as he tried to clean up the mess that he had made.

By the time you had come back out. It seemed that the entire pastry display was sitting out on the counter as the man tried to find the right spot for them. You sighed and rolled your eyes before putting on the customer service face and stepped up to the counter.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it happens all the time.” You started pulling them off to the side to clear the counter. Just another thing to add to the list.

“So, what can I get for you?” You finally look up at the man. He's tall, and broad shouldered. And under the beanie, you can see a hint of silvery hair. He's dressed pretty casually, but in the expensive kind of way. Nice dark jeans and a button up shirt, and the wool coat he wore to protect him from the elements was well taken care of.

“Oh ah, just a latte please, and um…” he looks down at the pile of confections that he had tried to reset for you. “One of these.” He slides a large chocolate chip cookie out.

You’re looking hard at him now. The vague spark or recognition lighting up in your head. Except you had no idea who this was, at least, not until he smiled.

“Y/N?” Wait… last you checked, you didn’t wear a nametag. The dimples popped out, and he ducked his head in an incredibly familiar way.

“HOLY SHIT! Namjoon?!” Forget helping him with coffee, you came out from around the counter and really got a look at him. And as if the last two years of absence hadn't happened, you hugged him. His stiffness of shock dissipated quickly, and his arms wrapped around you as well, holding you tight.

“Fuck, its good to see you! What are you doing here?” Oh no. No. No. He felt like he had spent the last two years in the gym, underneath these nice clothes. This did not bode well for you. And just like that, those old familiar feelings came flooding back, but with the new addition of wow, he’s really hot now.

“I uh, just transferred here. I spent a couple years at a smaller place getting all the basics done. Ya know?” He rubbed the back of his neck, and finally took the beanie off in the warm café. Could he just stop getting hotter, for like a second? You’re supposed to be working.

“You’ve always been so smart, Joonie.” The old name came back seamlessly. “I’m juggling classes for my major as well as the core stuff. I finally caved and took some summer classes to see if I can get ahead.”

The bell above the door signaled another customer coming in, and you shook your head. “Hey, Uh, you coffee and food is on me today. Let me get that really quick, okay?” You flashed a warm smile at him and scooted right back behind the counter to warm the cookie up as well. With your back turned, you made a face and muttered a quiet ‘what the fuck…’

You helped the other customer, taking your time with Namjoons latte and put lovely swirls in the drink, and you snapped a quick picture just to add to your collection.

“So…” you began, leaning on the countertop as Namjoon looked at the plated cookie and drink.

“I’ve got class later today, after my shift.”

“...and?” Namjoon leaned in conspiratorially and the dimples popped in his cheeks as he smiled.

“I definitely want to catch up.”

You heard your name from your coworker as she walked in the door, and gave you a quick salute as she kicked the door to the back room open ahead of her.

“Yeah… just tell me when.” Namjoons attention was fully focused on you now. “My number’s still the same.” You knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but you couldn't help but feel bad about not reaching out in the past few years. Especially when you were home for the holidays.

“WAIT, actually.” You jumped slightly at the outburst. “I broke my phone last month and I have a temporary number until it’s fixed. Its so dumb.” He pulled out a little notebook from an inner coat pocket, and scribbled down his number for you.

You couldn’t hold back the giggle. Apparently he’s still just as clumsy as you remember. Maybe you should have met him at the table he picked out with his drink.

Namjoon actually looked down to turn his attention to his drink. “Huh, I always love looking at the art on the lattes. But this cup is actually great, where do you all get these?”

You adjusted your apron a little and stood up a little straighter. Just a little bit of a preen, as a treat.

“Actually, I made them.”

“No shit?! So you did eventually figure out how to make the cups work, huh?” He chuckled, remembering when you used to make ‘pottery’ out of playground mud. Upset that they never lasted.

“Yeah, I did.” She sighed fondly. You could wander down this path of nostalgia for hours, but your coworker coming out of the back room with a rack of clean mugs pulled you out of the moment.

“I’m really glad to see you Namjoon. I’ll text you later, okay?” He nodded to you, thanking you again for his coffee, and he retreated to his table to get some work done. Another fond smile, and you felt your cheeks burn. You turned away too soon, and didn’t see Namjoon look your way. He was looking at you as if you had hung the moon and stars. Before he settled in to even try his drink, he took a picture, more of the cup, than the artful swirls.

----------

“Hey, who’s the hottie you were talking to?” Your coworker, Yuna, settled into the routine of a shift changeover easily, and kept her voice fairly low, casting glances over to Namjoon every once in a while.

“Actually, I grew up with him. We kinda lost touch when I came here for school.”

She raised an eyebrow at you. “Okay, so tell me that you all had like, a thing in highschool. Please. Because that would be absolutely perfect.”

“What? No. We were- are just friends. He never thought of me that way.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” The two of you said nothing else on the matter and you went about the rest of your day. You left without saying goodbye to Namjoon, but you fully intended to text him before you went into your studio to work on your upcoming projects.

Of course, you didn’t get a chance to, until it was really late, and you still had at least another hour of work, plus cleanup to get done before you could go home.

Y/N : Hey Namjoon, sorry I didn’t get to you earlier. I’m still working in my studio tonight. Can we maybe do something this weekend? Joonie (TEMP): Thats okay! I had a lot of things to get done with this paper for my lit class. I was a little distracted too. Joonie (TEMP): Have you eaten yet? Y/N: Actually… no. Y/N: Don’t be mad, I just realized how fucking hungry I am. I might call it early and grab something from the vending machines before I head home. Joonie (TEMP): I’m still on campus. I’ll pick something up and I’ll meet you at your studio. Joonie (TEMP): I owe you. For the coffee.

What? No that’s not how this works. It was just a coffee. At the place you work. That was nothing. Hes offering to pick up a whole meal for you.

Y/N: No it’s fine really. Joonie 💕: Too late. Already done. I assume you’re in the art building? What room? Y/N: Ugh fine. 1043 I’m in studio C there.

15 minutes later, Namjon comes in with two really full bags from the campus quick-stop and you take them from him to sit on the low table that you and your three other studio mates share. You all really try to keep this little lounge area clean, but it was inevitable that some of your work and all of its mess spilled out into the area.

“Uh, you really might wanna hang that coat up over there. Like AWAY from all of this.”

You motioned towards yourself and your studio clothes. Your jeans were caked in clay and plaster. There was some paint on them too, from when you dabbled in painting last year. For the most part, your apron caught all of the fresh stuff. And you left that hanging in your studio space when you saw him walk in.

“Ah yeah… I like this one. I didn’t think about that.”

He settled in, taking his time to look at all the knickknacks you all had littering this room. The cork board was plastered in notes to each other. Fliers and information about local shows. The whiteboard had what looked like a furnace schedule, he thought at least. Your name was there with a specific date and time, and someone had scribbled flames around it.

You had already started digging through bags. It seemed he had just guessed at what you would want to eat, but everything that was in there you would probably call your favorite at some point or another. No time to dwell on that. You had already opened some chips and you took a bite out of something… actually, what were you eating? You read the package, shrugged and kept going.

"You good there?" Namjoon was still looking at everything. What drew his eye the most now was what looked like a stack of mushed plates. Sitting on a shelf over a trash can that contained what looked like the shards of those mushed plates.

"Yeah," you slowed down now. You dug through the bag, possibly looking for something to drink. No such luck. No worries. You had some cold coffee sitting in the pot by the sink. Good enough.

“Thanks Joonie. You really didn’t need to.” You leaned against the counter, sipping at the coffee. Shit that was so bad. Maybe a mini fridge would be a good idea here. Between the four of you in that studio, you would figure something out. You finished eating the sandwich in your hand, and crumpled up the wrapper, tossing it into the trash can a few feet away.

“Yeah, I know. I wanted to though.” His expression was soft as he looked over at you. The pair of you made quite the sight. He was so put together and clean looking. You could look like that too, if you really tried, but it was so much work to keep clean at all while still throwing out piece after piece.

“So, what have you been getting into the past couple of years? Spare no detail.” Namjoon had no idea how his focused attention made you feel. Just like earlier in the day, your heart beat a little harder, your breathing stuttered.

You spent the next two hours talking and laughing. Feeling like you two hadn’t missed any time at all. You were truly glad he was back in your life. It was better than not having him at all.

---------

Namjoon had slipped into your friend group comfortably. He was surprisingly very knowledgeable about the arts, and enjoyed running with you and these weird band of people. You also suspected that he was trying to find his place on this new campus, and he knew only a few people, so he latched onto you.

“So Dr. Song wants me to work with other disciplines or something,” you were talking with Jungkook, as you doodled ideas in your sketchbook. “And maybe have a joint show.” You looked up at your younger friend who was nodding along. Also scribbling furiously. He was much better at drawing than you, and he was quick to put his ideas onto the page.

“So is this like a formal offer here? ’Cos Ron also said something about a multi-discipline show.” You loved that painting professor. Too bad you didn’t click with the whole painting thing.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Namjoon was listening and watching the interaction intently. His face was serious though.

“When you say multi-discipline, how far does that go?”

Both you and Jungkook looked up at him, your eyebrows raised.

“What do you have in mind?” You already had an inkling of what he was getting at. But you wanted to hear his ideas too.

“I’ve had this thing I’ve been writing, that like, all I want is to see this turned into something more.” He reached and pulled your sketchbook to him.

“Hey!” He also took your pencil, and he booped your nose with the eraser and also started drawing. He also wrote what looked to be a few lines of poetry.

“Okay I like where you’re going with this, Namjoon.” He let the two of you continue your conversation. Even more ideas flowing between the two of you as you picked at your lunch.

You excused yourself eventually, wanting to go to your studio to play around with some ideas that had come up for you last week. Before you left, you gave Namjoon a quick half hug. JK reached out to you for one as well, and knowing how important skinship was with him, fully embraced him and ran a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He hummed happily.

“See you nerds later.” And off you went.

It was just Jungkook and Namjoon now, and they were talking about the possibility of a painting based on the poem Joon had written. This time Namjoon had shared the whole thing.

“You know she’s gonna need a copy of this whole thing, right?” Jungkook saw the poem for what it was. Longing for a love that could never be, and holding tight to all the small moments that you could.

“Oh yeah, I’ll definitely email it to her. I just wanted to share this specific part, that I’ve always thought about seeing in like, a physical object. I don’t know.”

He knocked rhythmically against the table, thinking again.

“Weird question, for no reason at all. Has she dated anyone? While she’s been here?”

Jungkook made a noncommittal sound. He was engrossed in drawing. Listening, but not really wanting to talk much. Especially not about the hookups that he knew you had.

“I wouldn’t call it dating so much as a regular or two that she sleeps with.”

“Oh.” Namjoon seemed to shrink in size. His voice quiet.

“How long have you been in love with her?”

“A while. We were kids, I think. It's hard to remember when it started.”

At this, the drawing stopped. And he looked hard at Namjoon.

“She honestly doesn’t talk much about dating or anything close to a relationship. I’ve always been under the impression that it’s not her thing. She’s always working. On pottery, or at the cafe. I’ve got literally nothing to give you here, other than I’m sorry, man.”

Namjoon nodded slowly. He was familiar with this feeling. Of wanting something, but never being able to keep it. Just like when you were kids, you only ever saw him as a friend, and that would have to be enough for him.

----------

You were hidden away in your studio. Music so loud that anyone walking in could hear it from your earbuds. This was what you wanted, to block out the world as you got lost in the piles of clay on the table. Being around Namjoon again brought back confusing feelings. An intense love that you weren’t able to shake.

Being around him was like looking at the sun. You had to shade your eyes, but you felt the warmth. You would never get to see it for what it was, but the warmth was enough. Just like being around him again was enough. It had to be enough.

Still though, you couldn’t help but want more.

The pinch pot you were working on was trying too hard to capture what you had made when you were young and still looked too polished. Too much like you knew what you were doing instead of something care-free. With a growl you smashed the piece against the table, the wet clay squishing out from between your fingers. The frustration had been building in the past week or so, and there was no outlet for it at hand now that you had realized that throwing yourself into your work wouldn't help.

No, that frustration, that need, was a familiar ache. You rinsed your hands as best you could in the bucket of water at your side and pulled your phone out. Tapping out a familiar pattern that soon would give you some relief.

By the time you had cleaned up for the evening, your answer had come and you set out to meet up with one of your regular hookups.

Thanks for reading again! Feel free to reblog and leave a comment, or send me an ask! Also let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist for all of my works coming out! <3

#kim namjoon #bangtanarmynet #btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #namjoonxreader #bts fanfic #fluff #smut #angst #college au #childhood friends #friends to lovers #idiots to lovers #satvrn fics #light jar

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veliseraptor · 2 years

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2021 Fanfiction Round-Up

Total Year-Long Wordcount: 386,721 (written, not posted)

This year I wrote and posted: 35 fics on AO3, plus two I think that were only on Tumblr…I think it was only two that I still haven’t crossposted. Should probably do that at some point. I was going to post one last fic this year but I didn’t quite finish editing it, so that’ll just have to come in 2022.

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

Less. Way less. This year marked my lowest cumulative annual word count since I started tracking in late 2016. I mean, I keep trying to remind myself that hey! kind of a lot of stuff happened this year and you almost lost your mind several times over, Lise, give yourself a break maybe, with middling amounts of success.

But yeah, definitely ended up writing less than I thought I would.

What’s your own favorite story of the year?

I think I have to say the backyard is full of bones wins this one. It’s funny to me that this year was actually bookended by my posting if living can be this in January (but written last year, so I’m not counting it), and ended (more or less) with posting the backyard is full of bones. Beginning and ending 2021 with Yi City fix-it longfic! That sounds about right.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Did I? I’m not sure that I did. I guess maybe signing up for a big bang particularly given the year I was having counts, but I mean, I’ve done that before, I knew it was possible. Signing up for a zine was new but didn’t feel particularly risky. I don’t know that I did anything terribly innovative in terms of style/storytelling.

Wow. Now I’m feeling like. Am I stagnant as a writer? Did I learn anything or grow at all this year??? So we’re just going to stop that train here and…move right along.

From my past year of writing, what was….

My most popular story of this year:

For this year…ranking by kudos, by a fairly substantial margin, actually, if living can be this. I’m sort of surprised! I would’ve expected one of my Jiang Cheng & Wei Wuxian fics to rank higher, but I guess this is only counting works posted this year and I didn’t write as many of those. (One of them, waiting for the remedy, is the second most popular, followed by, to my delight, domestic bliss, interrupted.)

Overall, With Absolute Splendor is now more than halfway caught up to Life in Reverse, which is sort of hilarious to me because, again, the latter has been up for almost a decade and I posted the other one last year. Guess we really did all lose our minds huh!!!

Most fun story to write:

I mean once I hit my stride with the backyard is full of bones that thing just…poured out of me. Like, I still don’t know what happened in September, but it sure did happen! And most of it was this one fic, and most of it I actually ended up happy with.

But that was also a lot of blood/sweat/tears, so I guess…I feel like maybe could be raining. I’m pretty sure I wrote that fic in one sitting, maybe two, and it was very much in my comfort zone, and extremely concussed and half dead Xue Yang calling fierce corpse Song Lan Batman is one of my favorite things I’ve done in a modern AU.

Story with the single sexiest moment:

I feel like if I wasn’t disqualifying it on account of having written it last year I’d probably say the first Songxue scene in if living can be this would be my personal favorite. But since I am disqualifying that one…

I feel like I didn’t write a lot of really sexy stuff this year. Which looking at my actual ratings history for stuff for 2021 isn’t actually true but still feels true. Picking for my personal own self, I think the sexiest moment in anything I wrote this year is probably either the entirety (p much) of lie back and let me unlock you or Fragile Things. Two very different moods.

Most “Holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:

I actually feel like I didn’t write anything super fucked up this year? I mean, I guess sort of naked and breathless and maybe lie back and let me unlock you, but for me and other things I’ve read also they both feel pretty tame.

Probably naked and breathless is the most fucked up thing I wrote, in terms of, like, dubious content. Punitive Measures is its own kind of fucked up in terms of sheer, like, gore, but it’s pretty straightforward whump when it comes down to it. Just…real bad this time.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

This isn’t a singular story and I don’t know that it’s so much shifting my perspective, but I feel like my sense of and feelings about Song Lan have developed over the course of this year in particular such that he’s become one of my favorites to write. I don’t know that I’d describe him as a favorite character, but I really like writing him and getting into his head, and I didn’t expect that.

(Sorry, Zichen! I didn’t!)

I feel like I learned some stuff about my sense of Jin Guangyao mostly via the Xueyao porn I wrote about him this year, which is to say Sharp Objects and choke chain.

Hardest story to write:

Probably blood-red mouth, snow-white fangs, because it was well out of my comfort zone and while I was writing it I kept going “what the fuck am I doing, does this even make sense, is this any good, is anyone even going to like this” and never really stopped, even after I posted it! I still feel like it’s kind of the odd duck of my works posted this year, and quite possibly of my works posted for a while.

Biggest Disappointment:

There’s always several of these, usually in the category of “I thought this fic was really good but it didn’t get the kind of attention/love I wanted it to.” For this year I think the best example of that would be two faces, three knives which - take “didn’t get the attention/love I wanted it to” with a grain of salt because it still did get that but I think it deserves more than some of my other stuff I wrote this year.

Biggest Surprise:

the people are gone and the place is empty, probably. I mean, I’d toyed with the idea of writing something in the blood, dust, ashes “universe” (meaning that specific canon divergence) but I didn’t really think I’d actually do it, and in honesty there were several times writing this where I was like “fuck this is bad, what am I doing” but my love of field surgery as a trope and my thing for a-Qing and Xue Yang’s relationship powered me through, for better or worse. But yeah, that’s a surprise both in terms of “existing” and that as many people read and seemingly liked it as did.

Also the fact that I kept writing in the if living can be this verse, though! I mean on the one hand of course I did that. But on the other hand I really thought I wasn’t going to. And yet here I am, 50,000 additional words of story on. I should know myself better by now.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story:

domestic bliss, interrupted, almost certainly. I feel like I talked about it recently, how much that fic is like ‘things Lise wants, right there, out in the open, almost embarrassingly exposed’ and that’s still true.

That fic was easy to write for the most part and the main reason I think is that as I was writing it I was like “well maybe I’ll never post this” which gave me permission to be really fucking self-indulgent about things without as much ‘oh but this is cringey’ ‘this is going to make people mad’ ‘people are going to think you’re sooo stupid lise’ peanut gallery commentary.

Yes hypothetically I could do that with any fic I write but if I know other people are (probably) going to be seeing something then I am going to read it differently as I’m writing it and that’s just facts.

Favorite Opening Line(s):

That he was, most often, unaware seemed like a mercy, though he didn’t think (when he could think) that it was meant as one. (make this darkness feel like home)

Xue Yang clocked the little blind girl immediately for an opportunistic, thieving little gutter rat, and he was absolutely right. (two faces, three knives)

It wasn’t one thing that did it, but rather a collection of them, accumulating one after the other, leading him inexorably down the road to a singular revelation, if one that came too late. (Mercy)

It’d be nice if Xue Yang could say he’d had a bad feeling about the job from the start, but the fact was that he hadn’t. He’d waltzed in sure he could handle it, and he did handle it, if by handle you meant scared the piss out of He Su and didn’t die. Couldn’t say much more than that. ((home sweet) no sweet home)

This was Jin Ling’s fault. That was Jiang Cheng’s first thought - and his second, too, when he saw a figure in black and red and flanked by Lan juniors like a crow overseeing a bunch of cygnets. (waiting for the remedy)

Favorite Line(s) from Anywhere:

1. It was a one-sided slaughter, and it was absolutely beautiful to watch. Xiao Xingchen was death on white wings.

He was, Xue Yang thought, wasted on good deeds. He made such a good murderer. (Indulgence)

2. Lan Wangji approached every interrogation with the same determination and resolve. He showed no signs of discouragement or doubt. His absolute certainty made it easier for Jiang Cheng not to waver, except sometimes in the middle of the night when he dreamed of the corpses at Lotus Pier, and this time Wei Wuxian was among them. (in our respective ways)

3. “Daozhang,” he said hoarsely. “Daozhang, I miss you.”

Silence. The wind sent a few dead leaves skittering across the ground before discarding them. Xue Yang lowered his head and rested his forehead on the ground, his heart beating out of rhythm, resentful energy flooding corrosive through his meridians. It was the closest thing to warmth in this whole forsaken place. (a symphony for the departed)

4. “I managed it just fine on my own before you guys even knew me,” Xue Yang said.

“Why would that make it better?” Xingchen asked unhappily, and Xue Yang’s stomach twisted into knots.

Because that’s the way things are supposed to be, he could’ve said, that’s just how it works, I handle this shit and I do it by myself, and that’s fine, it’s always been fine.

But when Xingchen asked like that it suddenly felt like the times when he was a kid and would imagine someone looking at him and saying what’s wrong instead of what’s wrong with you, and that sort of made him feel like he wanted to cry, which he was going to put down to the painkillers. ((home sweet) no sweet home)

5. It wasn’t really his. A lie, like all kindness really was at the bottom, that broke as soon as you looked at it closely. Like the person he was pretending to be, nice and friendly and safe and harmless. Xiao Xingchen thought he was helping some poor, persecuted man in need and didn’t know he was hand-feeding a wolf, and it was going to be so funny when Xue Yang told him the truth.

It was interesting, though. Thinking so this is what it’d feel like to matter to someone. (Interference)

6. Before Xiao Xingchen, a-Qing hadn’t had one. She wasn’t sure she still had one now or if it’d gone away with Xiao Xingchen and now the yizhuang was just a corpse of a home the same way Yi City was a corpse of a city and the man in black was...a corpse. (the people are gone and the place is empty)

7. It used to be so easy, Jiang Cheng thought. When did it stop being easy? When did I forget how to talk to you?

Probably around the time Wei Wuxian had started lying to him about everything because he’d made the unilateral decision to sacrifice his golden core and never bothered asking Jiang Cheng what he thought about it. That’d probably had something to do with it.

The part where he’d looked down at Wei Wuxian with Sandu drawn and told him to die probably had something to do with it, too. (waiting for the remedy)

9. If he opened his mouth something was going to fall out of it that should really stay where it was, inside. His heart, maybe. He pictured that for a second, just - coughing it up into his hands, still shuddering with those last few staggering beats, and telling Xiao Xingchen now look what you did, you fucked me up bad, Daozhang. ((already here) in this promised land)

10. “Minshan is a friend,” Jin Guangyao said. “You should treat him with at least some respect.”

“A-Yao,” Xue Yang said, “I don’t treat you with respect. What makes you think I’m gonna do it for anyone else?”

It was, unfortunately, a fair point. (choke chain)

11. Xue Yang turned away again, back toward Xingchen. Like Xingchen was due north and Xue Yang was a lodestone. He lowered himself to his knees, and the way he touched Xingchen’s shoulder was almost reverent. He picked up a pouch and Song Lan watched his back curve, his shoulders curling like a vulture mantling over its prey. (make this darkness feel like home)

12. “I pity you,” he said abruptly, and Xue Yang’s tongue dried up in his mouth. He felt like Xiao Xingchen had just grabbed his hair and shoved his head into a bucket of half-frozen water.

“What?”

“You say you’ve spent much of your life in - mortal danger. Maybe it isn’t so surprising that would numb you to the suffering of others,” Xiao Xingchen said. Xue Yang’s stomach lurched, saliva filling his mouth like he was about to puke. It was a little like Xiao Xingchen had just punched a hole in his stomach and rummaged around in his guts.

“The fuck do you know,” he said, heartbeat picking up. His voice sounded weirdly thick.

“It seems,” Xiao Xingchen said thoughtfully, yanking out Xue Yang’s spleen and inspecting it, “like a very sad and lonely way to live.” (the backyard is full of bones)

13. “You wanted to know,” he spat. “You wanted to know why I killed them, that was Chang-zongzhu, Chang Ci’an. And sure, I was stupid, I was naive, but he was a fucking cultivator, a clan leader, and he thought I was nothing. And maybe, maybe if he hadn’t fucked me up then I would’ve been, but instead I survived and I got strong and - I learned later that if he’d killed some other person’s kid, someone people thought was important, they might’ve put his whole family to death for it, and I thought why the fuck should my life be worth any less.” (the backyard is full of bones)

Top 5 Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated:

Xue Yang crying in the shower with Xiao Xingchen from take something with you.

Xue Yang and Jin Guangyao knifeplay, the fic. (Sharp Objects)

Fierce corpse Song Lan (nonconsensually) cuddling Xue Yang from make this darkness feel like home.

Honestly some kind of sequence/triptych from two faces, three knives closing with Xue Yang carrying a-Qing’s dead body home, because I like that choice I made and I have a very strong picture of it in my head, so.

Self indulgently as hell: Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen standing between Xue Yang and Wangxian from domestic bliss, interrupted. The heart wants what it wants.

Fic-writing goals for 2022:

Finish the Xue Yang/Wen Qing and Xue Yang/Jiang Yanli fics.

Maybe sign up for another Big Bang, which would probably be foolish but hey! I’ve managed it the last two years and ended up with something I like so why not go for it again!

Maybe write in a fandom that’s not The Untamed. Would be really fun to see if I could muster my brain to write some Bingjiu or Mu Qing fic or 2HA fic, all of which are things I hypothetically want to do and just keep getting skeert of.

Finish et ipsi sunt jacula, fucking finally.

#confessions of a frustrated writer #fanfiction round up #didn't even break 400k this year :(#trying not to be upset about it! really! i am!

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troddenn-snoww · 2 years

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heyo, so, with my main project finally complete and my other works kinda on the back burner, i've decided to start taking writing requests!

i mostly write dsmp stuff, though that could change in the future because. hyperfixations go brrr i guess. if a fic gets long enough i'll probably end up crossposting it to ao3, but otherwise everything will remain on my blog under the tags #my fics and #writing requests. EDIT: everything's on my ao3 too now! whoops!

I WILL write:

- familial/platonic/romantic

- fluff! lots of it preferably!

- angst is probably my strong suit, and i'm up for writing like. major violence and character death, if that's what you really want

- AUs

- i mean i'm willing to do self insert or x reader stuff but i've never really dabbled in that area so no promises lol

I WON'T write:

- smut, probably. like i don't mind writing something a bit more on the spicy side but keep in mind i am. a minor lmao

just send in an ask or a message with the details and a vague word count i'll see what i can do! i'm totally up for just writing out a bunch of headcanons n stuff too :)

also here's my ao3 if you'd like to check out some of my work!

previous requests: x, x

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sixeyesgojo · 3 years

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vacation time!!

Summary: What’s their idea of a perfect vacation?

Pairing: Team Gojo + you/reader, Ryomen Sukuna

Word count: -

Content warning: mild manga spoilers for Gojo & Megumi (at that time at least)

A/N: crossposted from AO3

Gojo Satoru

I'm gonna go ahead and say it: this man is someone who really, really enjoys the beach

he gets to be super carefree and just do things he enjoys

hmagine him running around the beach in his swim trunks and sunglasses, hair down, just grinning and smiling and all happy. We would love to see that

would by no means go alone, will most likely go with Shoko and his s/o

might get a little lost in thought, reminiscing about old times but that's quickly forgotten... hopefully

will definitely give Shoko and/or his s/o a good shove into the water

like, they don't just slightly trip, they faceplant

he'd laugh his ass off and clutch his stomach

he's a big child after all

will definitely start a water splashing war too

he outswims the others since he's a fast one and has tons of stamina

he would also be able to just float on his back??? How does he do that, I could never

doesn't bring beverages (his s/o does), brings a ton of icecream instead

Gojo will certainly attract a lot of attention

I'm not sure if he'd turn heads because he's good-looking af or because he's such a baby

Itadori Yuji

I feel like Yuuji doesn't have a place he loves the most for vacation

but if he had to pick one, he would also pick the beach

or wherever he used to go to with his grandpa

he also enjoys hiking to the top of mountains though

you could literally just blindfold him and drag him somewhere and he would enjoy it so much, literally beaming

fml, he is precious

Yuuji would definitely go on vacation with friends from his old school + his s/o

he thinks: the more the merrier and he has not seen his old friends for a long time

just wants to have a good time before harsh missions await him again

brings a ball along because he might wanna play dodgeball or something

now that I think about it, I think he enjoys camping a lot

being under the stars, a campfire burning bright in their middle, maybe even singing songs

he loves that feeling of togetherness, it just makes him feel better in an instant

he wouldn't let his fun get taken away, even if a curse decides to show up

Fushiguro Megumi

for some reason I have the feeling that Megumi is more of a stay-at-home dude

if he went anywhere, it would not be as 'fancy' as the beach or anything

vacation = being able to relax (at home), finally being able to take his mind off of some shitty stuff that has been burdening him

he'd stay in his bed most of the time and maybe read a book, play games or watch TV

occasionally he will go outside to just chill on a meadow, lie down, close his eyes and just inhale, exhale

might doze off or not, he never knows

would more likely spend it alone than with someone

if he was to spend it with someone, he would spend it as quality time with his s/o... or with his sister... or both

Megumi would still educate himself on the world of Jujutsu (because you never stop learning) or might even train because he thinks he's powerless

someone come and hug this baby please

he deserves a 3 hour long hug

but don't worry, if he gets into one of these moods where he thinks he's not enough, his s/o will come and cheer him up, take it off his mind because he is amazing

movie night(s)!!!

or game nights?

Kugisaki Nobara

now this girl spoils herself more than Gojo does

this girl is able to enjoy herself alone or with people and by people I mean her s/o or even Maki

she will go to all the places she has always wanted to visit

namely Tokyo (yeah she lives there now but I'm sure she hasn't explored much of it), Kyoto, Osaka, Nagoya, Fukuoka, etc.

safe to say that she will go shopping, visits to theme parks or fairgrounds, festivals or whatever, you name it

Sightseeing: Nobara is one of those who takes aesthetic pictures of herself posing in front of something and uploading it to the Jujutsu Kaisen equivalent of Instagram, Jujugram

will try all the different foods, food pictures

her s/o is the one taking cute pictures of her

if the picture doesn't come out right? re-do it.

suddenly the idea of her going to a concert popped into my head, so here I am, presenting this idea as well

since she's a woman of culture, i can sort of picturing her go to historic monuments too

she will go to a beauty salon she has heard a lot of

gets a manicure and pedicure since she wasn't able to do so for a long time because she was busy busy

ah yes, massages too

is veryyyy giddy with pleasure

Ryomen Sukuna

a bloodbath tbh

period

#jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk manga spoilers #jujutsu headcanons #itadori yuji #yuji x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #nobara x reader #kugisaki nobara #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna headcanons #itadori yuji headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons #kugisaki nobara headcanons #fushiguro megumi headcanons

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maybege · 3 years

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Birthday Party Adventures

Summary: With his daughter’s birthday party approaching, Paz has many plans to make it all go right. What he didn’t expect was for Emily to invite her teacher and his crush – you.

Pairing: single dad!Paz Vizsla x fem!teacher!Reader

Wordcount: 4.0k | Rating: T

Warnings: Modern AU, fluffy fluff

Oh I feel like it has been ages since I initially wrote this (back in September actually!) but I love it just as much as on the first day and I hope that you will enjoy it too! This is dedicated to my Paz Gang @aerynwrites @datmando @hdlynnslibrary @princessbatears and @stubbychaos who came up with this wonderful AU idea. ❤

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Paz was overwhelmed.

Paz was truly and utterly overwhelmed.

“Can I go and get my cereal?” Emily asked next to him, clearly bored with her father’s antics, “You will take ages to choose, Uncle Din was right.”

“All right, go ahead,” he mumbled, choosing to ignore the fact that Din had – once again – infiltrated his daughter’s thoughts with horrible lies. He did not take ages. Anybody would take as long as he was taking when the choices were so … vast.

Cake mix after cake mix was displayed in the aisle and how would he know which one he should get?

Emily’s birthday was this weekend – Saturday to be exact and he had promised her a cake. He always promised her a cake. And he always failed.

But not this time.

This time, he had listened to his best friend and would settle on a cake mix although he still felt like he was cutting corners. But at least it would not be store-bought. And, as Fennec had suggested, he could still buy some decorations to make the cake special.

Because that’s what Emily deserved – a special cake, made with love.

So, while his daughter was probably trying to find the sweetest cereal there was available, he tried to settle on a cake.

Deep down, Paz knew that Emily was probably eating way too much sugar. But to be honest, there were so many battles he could fight at once and he was more prepared to fight some judgmental soccer moms than the will of his own daughter.

Holding two cake mixes in his hands – birthday confetti and chocolate – Paz whipped around as he heard an all too familiar voice greet him. “Mr Vizsla, it is so nice to see you.”

There you were.

The woman of his dreams.

Emily’s teacher.

Stars, he knew he was probably acting absolutely ridiculous around you. No matter what kind of school event there was, as one of Emily’s main teachers you were always around he was never able to take his eyes off you.

Not only were you pretty and smart but you were kind. You kept all the kids in check with a calmness that he admired you for and he could see how you valued each and every student in your class. And now you were here, wrapped in an oversized cardigan and clutching a shopping basket in your hands.

But you beamed at him and he was sure he’d never seen anything prettier.

Forgotten were the cake mixes in his hands as he lowered them to the sides of his body. “Hi, um, Miss –“

“Emily was mentioning you were having trouble choosing.”

“Em saw you?”

You chuckled, avoiding your eyes as if you were embarrassed, “I came over to say hello and she mentioned you needed help to choose a cake?”

Speak, for maker’s sake, speak! A voice in his head screamed at him but his brain was still processing the fact that (a) this was not a school event and (b) you were speaking to him, leading to (c) you were speaking to him in your own free time.

“Chocolate.”

“What?”

“I would go with chocolate,” you gestured to the box in his right hand, biting your lip and stars, he wanted to hold your hand and kiss your cheek and take walks through the park with you. Instead, here he was, making a fool of himself.

“I will trust your judgment, then,” he nodded, carefully putting the other box back on the shelf. When that was done, you kept standing there in front of him looking up at him expectantly. Why – why? – couldn’t he speak? It should not be this hard to open his mouth.

He just needed to say I think you are wonderful and I would like to get to know you more. Would you be interested in having dinner with me?

“Um, would you like to …”, his voice trailed off.

You did that lip-biting thing again and your whole face lit up and stars, maybe you wanted him to ask you. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you would like to –“

“I know you said I wasn’t allowed the sweet ones but it’s my birthday soon,” Em announced loudly, dropping a box in the already full shopping cart and pouting at him, “Can I have it as an early present, pretty please?”

Mission: Ask Pretty Teacher Out For Dinner was immediately aborted and he swore he saw a look of disappointment flash across your face. At least that was something to give him hope.

“Dad always makes me a cake and he fails every year, it’s a tradition by now,” his daughter explained and he groaned inwardly, but then she had her thinking face on – the same she had as a toddler – and suddenly added, “You should bring one.”

“What?”

“Em, I don’t think your teacher has the time to …”

But Em, bless her soul, would not be deterred from her plan. By now he cursed the stubborn streak that ran through his family and had evidently taken root in his daughter as well.

“Dad always talks about how much he likes your raspberry chocolate crumble,” she shrugged, “And my classmates like it too.”

When would the ground open up and swallow him whole?

And the worst thing was: Em wasn’t even lying. She had her blunt honesty from him and the way he had gushed about that raspberry crumble had been unusual, especially for him. But it had also been unusually good. And the way you had smiled at him when he had taken a second serving had made his heart warm.

Now though, there were no words that could describe the embarrassment that flowed through him. He felt exposed in a way that he had not felt for a long time and being at anyone’s mercy – even if it was yours – was not something that he cherished.

“Well,” you started with a smile and looked at him, “If your dad won’t mind, I could certainly bring over a cake for your birthday party.”

“He won’t mind.”

“I won’t mind.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you smiled, genuinely smiled, at him. Paz’s breath caught in his throat. Stars, you were beautiful. Everything about you was just magnificent from the tips of your hair to your eyes, your nose, your lips, how you hugged your oversized cardigan closer to you.

“Great,” you nodded, “So … I will see you then?”

“My dad will text you the info,” Emily added, seemingly the only one who kept her cool at the situation.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “Oh, but I don’t –“

“Dad, why don’t you give Miss Y/L/N your number?” Em brazenly suggested, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that he knew all too well, “For adult stuff.”

He could feel his ears burn, could hear himself sputtering out words about how he did not want to be inappropriate and how this should be your decision and not Emily’s. And stars, he didn’t want to make advances towards you.

Well, he did.

He did want to flirt with you, wanted to compliment you on your kind eyes and your shining smile. But not like this. Not if it made you uncomfortable. And certainly not in the blaring lights of the grocery store aisle.

But before he could say anything more, before he could dig his hole deeper, you had your phone in your hands and were looking at him expectantly. And then he stumbled through his phone number, you nodding all the while and typing the numbers into a new contact.

“Great,” you smiled, “So – I will see you then?”

“Yes,” he murmured dumbly, “I will see you then.”

5:33 pm: Hi! This is Y/N 😊 Just wanted to say I’m really looking forward to Emily’s party this Saturday. Is there anything I should bring next to the crumble?

5:59 pm: Sorry, it just occurred to me that you probably only know me by my last name. I’m Emily’s teacher.

6:12 pm: Hello, this is Paz. Emily’s dad. You do not need to bring anything other than the cake and yourself.

7:43 pm: I am looking forward to seeing you too.

Saturday rolled around quicker than he had anticipated.

He had spent the week trying to make sure everything would be ready for Emily’s party (and your arrival) and that the apartment would be in tip-top shape to be destroyed by a bunch of kids.

He had spent almost all of Friday night wrapping presents when Emily was fast asleep only to be woken up at sunrise by his very energetic daughter who wanted to have some tasty pancakes from their favourite café around the corner.

He loved mornings like this.

Where it was just Em and him and they could enjoy their peace and quiet. Seeing her grow up was bliss and torture at the same time. He loved her, he was so proud of her and seeing her grow slowly but surely into a confident young woman was everything he’d ever wished for. But at the same time, it felt like time was slipping through his fingers. He wanted to catch these precious moments in his hands and never let them go.

This moment of calm did not last for long though, only for breakfast and until they were back in the apartment, preparing excitedly for the party that was to come.

Baking a cake was a disaster just like Emily had said it would be.

Maybe she had been right in saying that it was a tradition now. Maybe he really would not be able to bake a cake for her.

But now it was not only the cake. In less than an hour, 10 kids would swarm the way too small city apartment and he would need to prepare some food and why had he decided against ordering pizza and what if something went wrong?

And you would show up too, sometime, and he had wanted to change into something more appropriate for actually having a teacher (aka crush) over and being dressed in his flour-covered flannel shirt was certainly not it.

The doorbell rang just as the bowl of cake mix fell to the tiled floor. “Kriffing shit” he cursed trying to jump out of the cloud of grains just as he heard the tell-tale footsteps of Emily running to the door. “I got it!”

“No, Em, wait -!”

But it was too late. He had just caught himself on the doorframe when you stepped into the hallway, looking around curiously. You fit in so well, he thought instinctively, you could live here too.

“I’m a bit too early, I hope you don’t –“ you halted in your words, tilting your head at his flour-covered appearance, “mind.”

“I – I am so sorry,” he started, trying to dust off but only making it worse, “I was a bit in a hurry and I –“

“It’s all right,” you replied quickly, lifting the box in your hands lamely, “I brought cake.”

“I will take that,” Em decided, taking the cake off your hands and transporting it to the dinner table in the living room. But not without showing him the huge grin on her face.

“I’m sorry for the mess, I just …” he threw up his hands in defeat, desperation clear in his voice, as you followed him into the chaotic kitchen.

“No worries, we will manage that just fine.”

The way you said we made his heart beat faster and he stepped aside to make space for you.

The apartment Emily and he lived in was actually a miracle to find in such a big city and he still thanked the stars for the day when the landlord had decided to let him, a single father and his tiny daughter, move in. But for all its perks – the layout, the view, the small balcony that fit a small bench – the apartment had one single flaw: The kitchen.

It was a tiny kitchen with the counters wrapping around all three walls and leaving only the space free where the doorway was. And it was narrow. He had always cursed it, especially with his size, and more than once had he accidentally hit his head on a cabinet door that his daughter had left open.

And where it was small for one full-grown adult, it was a tight fit for two. Which made it even worse. Or better. Depending on how one viewed things.

You bumped against him constantly, his hands brushing accidentally against yours, one time almost smashing into you but only hitting your foreheads together. And you only ever giggled or smiled shyly at him, never ever stepping away from the closeness and it made his heart flutter in his chest.

Maybe – maybe you wanted that too.

While he was mixing the dough together under your careful eyes, you had started to slice some apples that he had found in the pantry. He threw a few glances your way, catching you looking at him too before smiling at you.

Stars, he really was behaving like a lovesick puppy, wasn’t he?

“You are pretty good at this,” he commented, nodding towards the cake that you had brought with you. You spooned a bit of cinnamon into the apple mix, before spreading the dough in the baking form he had found somewhere in a cabinet.

“It’s a hobby,” you shrugged your shoulders, “I was never good with finding new connections when I moved and I found that making good food helps people to talk to you.”

“I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to talk to you,” he blurted out, feeling his ears grow hot, “I mean because – you don’t need baking to be nice and I – fuck, wait, shit no, I don’t mean fuck, I – “

You laughed, full-on giggles escaping you as he sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I imagined all of this differently.”

“How – how did you imagine it?” you asked quietly, stepping closer to him. Your eyes were so big now and you looked so hopeful and he could feel his heart skip a beat.

“Well, I wanted to look competent for once,” he stated, gesturing around the filled countertops, “And not forcing you to help me make up my mistakes.”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” you protested, biting your lip, “I – I like helping you and … spending time with you.”

“Dad, Alyssa is already on her way, are you sure want to cook? Is the cake even ready? I invited Isabelle and I don’t want her to think that I can’t –“

Apparently, he could not hide the misery on his face – when had he decided that it would be a good idea to not only bake a cake but cook for a hoard of hungry kids? – because you snorted next to him, clearly amused. Emily had crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking pleadingly up at him.

“Don’t worry, your father and I will make sure there will be enough cake to go around,” you reassured his daughter before looking at him, “Do you have a plan for dinner?”

“We could always order pizza,” Emily suggested, the hope in her eyes clear as she looked at him.

Stars, when would he ever be able to deny her anything?

“It’s true,” he chuckled, patting his daughter on her back, “We always end up with pizza anyway.”

So, while you and Em busied yourselves with putting the pie in the oven, he ordered pizza for everyone. (A few family-sized pizzas would be enough right?) And because he was feeling a little more confident, he also added a side of garlic bread and a bottle of wine to the order. Maybe you would like to stay if he could offer a glass of wine?

On his way back, he passed Emily on the way to the bathroom. “I will go get ready,” she announced loudly while also wildly gesturing towards the kitchen.

When he entered the small room, he could feel the heat of the oven already.

“It should be done soon if everything works as it should,” you announced and straightened up, “The kids definitely won’t starve.”

“I cannot thank you enough,” the relief in his voice was clear, “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Then it is a good thing we won’t have to know,” you teased him and the mirth in your eyes made him want to kiss you so badly. And there it was again. That silent tension between the two of you.

This would be a good moment, he thought to himself as he slowly lowered his face towards yours, Emily was occupied getting ready, the pie was in the oven, you were alone with him and he could hear your breath hitch in your throat.

Delicate fingers closed around his wrist, pulling him closer and he could feel your breath on his face and just a little bit more and then –

Ring!

He flinched away from you, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s probably Alyssa,” he whispered, avoiding your gaze.

Alyssa was dropped off by her mother. Her eyes fell to you, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, drying your hands on a towel and looking very much at home (he tried to ignore how warm that made him feel).

“Miss Y/L/N,” she greeted you, clearly caught off guard, “what a surprise to see you here, I didn’t know that Emily had invited you too.”

“Oh well you know …” you shrugged your shoulders and he could hear the wheels turning in your head, searching for a good excuse.

“My dad invited her,” Em announced smugly, her and Alyssa grinning from ear to ear.

The awkward silence between the adults would have been hilarious hadn’t he been a part of it. But what his brain decided to focus on the most was the fact that you had not denied it, you had simply smiled at Alyssa’s mom, made some small talk about the newest English project you had the kids working on, and remained standing next to him the whole time.

Paz was sure that his gazing at you was obvious to everyone present but he could not help himself.

One after another, the little guests trickled in, playing board games and eating your delicious cake in the living room. He helped Em set up the little karaoke game that she had gotten from Din last Christmas and excited cheers filled the room as they tried to look at the different song options.

Paz left them to their own devices, knowing that should anything go wrong, Em would come and get him.

But with the living room occupied, the only space left for him and you to be was the tiny kitchen.

“So … I, um, I helped you with the cake,” you started to shuffle, hands wringing in front of your belly, “I really don’t want to outstay my welcome and –“

“You could stay if you want,” he suggested, blood pumping in his veins, “I – I have ordered some wine and garlic bread if you’d like.”

And that’s how you ended up sitting next to him on the kitchen floor, your legs stretched out in front of you. He had to angle his legs a little, the space between the counters too small for him. But the closeness it provided to you was more than worth it. He fished two wine glasses from the shelf, handing them down to you before grabbing the bottle of wine.

There were no clean plates left so he spread the pizza carton out on both of your legs, the warmth of the food seeping into his thighs.

“To a successful birthday party,” you stated, carefully clinking your glass with his, “And to the very talented father who organized it all.”

“To the best baker out there,” he replied and the way you bit your lip made him smile.

He bit into the garlic bread heartily and his stomach grumbled satisfied.

“This is so good,” you moaned next to him, mouth still full and he grinned.

You ate in peaceful silence, munching on a few leftover slices of pizza that the kids had graciously left. With the warm glow from the kitchen lamps, he decided that birthday parties weren’t so bad when he had you there to enjoy it with.

When he looked at you, his gaze fell to a drop of red sauce that had found its place on the corner of your mouth. You tilted your head questioningly.

“You, uh,” he murmured, gesturing towards his face, “You got something there.”

When your hands missed it, his own rose up to your face. He swore he could hear your breath hitch as his thumb brushed over the tomato sauce, wiping it away.

But your face remained turned towards him, your lips slightly open and were you getting closer?

Was he reading the signs right? He didn’t even know. All he knew was he wanted to kiss you. Really. Truly. No matter how inappropriate it might be.

And with the karaoke in the background and a bunch of 10-year olds shrieking the lyrics to the newest chart, he bowed down his head and kissed you. Full on the mouth.

It was soft and gentle, both of you not moving an inch. But then his hand crept forward, gently framing your cheek and you gasped against him, your hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer and stars you were returning the kiss.

You tasted of wine and cake and you were soft, so soft, he loved every second of it.

Slowly, he started to move his lips, brushing his tongue on your bottom lip, pulling your closer and suddenly you were straddling him, his hands on your hips pulling your closer and his back against the counter and the screeching of some Jojo Siwa song in the background.

When he slowly pulled away, your bottom lip falling from his teeth, your chest was heaving from his kisses, your lips were swollen, and he wanted to pull you to him again. A smile tugged at his lips.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” he asked breathlessly, eyes searching for any indication that he had crossed a line. But you were still clinging to him, your hands wandering down to grasp at his forearms.

This. This would be what he dreamed about now. The smile on your lips, how your eyes shone in the low kitchen lights, how you kept touching him.

“I’d really like that,” you nodded, the small smile on your lips growing bigger by the seconds.

“Really?” he asked, his nose nudging against yours, “That’s – that’s great, how about tomorrow? We could go for a walk in the park?”

“A walk in the park sounds great,” you whispered against his lips and he dipped his head to kiss you again, just as slowly.

“Good,” he murmured.

“Good,” you repeated, your tongue mingling with his.

“Dad, do we have any more of that cake left, it’s actually really –“

In a panic, he almost threw you off him.

You were doing your best to right your cardigan as Emily entered the kitchen, eyeing both of you suspiciously.

“Sorry, what was that, Em?” he asked, swallowing hard and hoping to all the stars that she hadn’t seen him make out with you like a teenager.

“I was just wondering if you had any more cake left, I can’t believe it but it actually tastes good?!”

He laughed and gestured towards the counter, “there some more, you can take the tray to the living room, I – we will just clean up some more.”

“You know, I totally saw you two kissing, right?”

“Emily Vizsla!”

“What? It is not like I am going to scold you or anything,” and with her usual confidence, she swayed away, the cake in her hands.

“Well, you heard her,” he grinned, hands coming up to frame your face again, as he kneeled on the tiles, his lips descending yours, “It is not like she is going to scold us or anything …”

And with that, he kissed you again.

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader

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badboyfriends · 4 years

Text

CHAPTER TWO HOUR. CHAPTER TWO HOUR. I AM SO TIRED. IT IS 6AM. TELL ME IF HTERE’S TYPOS AND THAT NORMAL STUFF

Bets Against The Void, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Whitelist au from @petrichormeraki

Crossposted on AO3

Tubbo quietly chuckled, smiling fondly as their friend squawked indignantly. “Tubbo! I’m serious, explain some shit, fuckin’ nerd!” Tommy scoffed, prodding at their side with his elbow. Tubbo hushed him, their smirk still lingering.

“Hermitcraft is a super crazy popular server. If you’ve ever searched for examples of builds on your tablet, chances are, they’re from one of the Hermits. Or if you looked up something about redstone! Anything! You’ll find one of their instructions. They’re geniuses- just, complete geniuses. Grian’s one of them-”

“Grian’s one of them!?” Tommy exclaimed, his eyes shooting open. Tubbo’s grin widened, nodding vigorously. “Yes! He’s the newest Hermit, last I heard.. Most of the guys he’s teammates with every MCC, they’re usually other Hermits!” They’d continue explaining to the best of their ability.

“Should’ve fuckin’ started with the fact that Grian’s here! That fuckin’ dude! He killed Dream three times! Three times, Tubbo!” The blond continued with his excited shouting. Well, that certainly fixed the situation, Tubbo mused.

The brunett nodded along, chuckling. “Yeah! He, and most of the others, really- post all that much right now. The new World Client, with the axolotls and caves ‘n stuff? They’ve started posting and sharing discoveries about that. I know Grian did, at least. But considering they call themselves the ‘Hermits’ it makes sense to be a bit inactive, yeah?” Tubbo shrugged, tapping the chilly cool sandstone beneath them.

Tommy nodded dumbly, glancing around the room for a moment. Tubbo, meanwhile, had pulled their tablet up. The holographic comm system was displayed infront of them, everything on the screen they touched being read aloud to them.

Launching an accessibility app, the tablet began describing aloud the block palette, dimensions, and colors. As the tablet’s robotic voice played in his com system, reading aloud the details of his surrounding, Tubbo nodded along to an incoherent rant from Tommy.

Tubbo wasn’t too sure what Tommy was ranting about- likely MCC, and Grian. Grian got a kill on Tommy, last MCC, if they remember correctly. The brunnett wouldn’t be surprised if that was the target of the blond’s current tangent. Tommy hadn’t even been able to get a word out, when Grian began shouting vigorous apologises between matches.

The descriptions from the tablet were long, and boring. The robotic voice drawing on and on, as it attempted to describe the intricate room. Shutting down the program, Tubbo tuned back into Tommy.

“Fuckin’ am..So fucking tired. Of course we ended up here. It’d be to easy if we’d just be let back into Dream SMP, huh? Think Dream even knew we were out? I bet not. Even if he does, probably didn’t even care, fuckin’ dick. Bet that green asshole’s just sitting over his code and shit, simping over Gogy-” The blond ranted heatedly. The blind teen could hear the shifting and chustling of fabric, before the boy’s voice became muffled.

With his head pressed against his knees, legs drawn to his chest, Tommy sat there practically panting. His chest heaved, the rage draining from him. “Why is all- all of this, always so complicated, Tubbo?” Blue eyes turned to meet the scarred, burnt front of the other.

Tubbo picked at faded and torn tennis shoes, tentatively listening. The rymnatic pattern of the boy’s breathing, and the crashing overhead, offered some vague comfort. “All of what?” They’d tilt their head.

The younger of the two quietly sighed, his mouth pressed in a thin line. His hand clutched the bottom of his torn, tan cargo pants, fidgetting with the frayed ends. “Us. Shit with us, it always gets so fuckin’ complicated. Big Man, you’re president. You’re- you’re the fucking president, now, Tubbo.”

The bunnett’s brows furrowed together, as they inched closer to their friend. “Yeah. But it’s- it’s still us, y’know? If- if life was easy, then we’d be missing out on a lot of things. What if we had just never met-”

“We’d always meet eachother, Tubbo. There’s no fuckin’ getting rid of me, even in your fantasy world.” The blond nudged the teen’s shoulder, a wolfish grin evident in his tone.

That made the other crack a smile, shaking their head. “I hope so, Tommy.” They’d chuckle, shaking their head. The weight of the day came crashing down all again. Before the rushing thoughts could boggle down their mind, Tubbo slumped against Tommy’s side sigh an exhausted sigh.

“This is just, livin’ the fucking life, huh?” Tommy remarked, looking over his friend. The tall boy already shifted himself, his long legs sprawled out on the floor with his back leaned against sandstone walls.

His head leaned against that of his compaignian, half-lidded blue eyes giving one last surveillance of the room. “We’ll figure this shit out tomorrow..” Tommy mumbled, glancing down at the brunette.

Tubbo was already asleep, their expression finally one of peace. Tommy wasn’t given a moment more to appreciate the serenity of the quiet room, before he’d be pulled into slumber as well.

Both of the teens were stirred awake by the whirring noises of an active portal- the Netherportal beside them, with particles flying, gaveway to two players. Tommy kicked himself up to his feet, defensively. Tubbo stumbled along with him, pulling back away from the strangers.

Though two stepped out, only one immediately caught Tommy’s eyes.

“W- Holy shit! You’re Grian!” Tommy squawked indignantly.

Tubbo’s head immediately shot up, excitably breaking into a grin. Any exhaustion the two held was wiped away- neither was sure how long their unrestful sleep had been, but it was far more than other nights.

The target of the excitement, Grian, sheepishly stood there, nodding. “Uh, yeah! You guys are Tommy and Tubbo, yeah? I’ve seen you at most of the MCC’s I’ve been to. You both did really good last time, by the way! I’m really looking forward to the next one!”

This was easily the closest they probably ever were to the dirty blond. He also looked far more at ease, on this server. The iconic figure, ever-present in the community, had his wild mop of a fringe frazzled and framing his face.

Poking under the bangs, Tommy could now see faint, ragged lines from a scar, along with other various healed-over wounds. Another contrary to how either of them had seen Grian, at MCC, was the large circular glasses loosely sat on his face.

Seeing one of his heroes like this (The only one that hadn’t betrayed, killed him, turned against him, despised him-) in such a..Domestic state, was bizarre. Tommy was scrambling for words, starting and giving up on getting his tongue around what to say.

“This is so cool! Hi! I used to watch and- and listen, to a lot of your old build tutorials! A lot of people on our server would always say how we learned building from you!” Tubbo would blurt out, practically bouncing on their heel. Grian turned to the teen, slightly shocked but amused.

“Oh! I- well thank you! I’m glad I could be any help at all- my builds are nothing compared to some of what the other Hermits have going on..Speaking of others- this is Stress!” He’d take the opportunity to escape the small spotlight, glancing towards the brunette woman next to him sheepishly.

The woman- Stress, apparently, quietly chuckled. A fond smile grazed her face, as she looked over towards the two teenagers. “Ello there, Loves! Sorry to interrupt your fan meetup,” She teased, side-eyeing the dirty blond beside her. “We just wanted to come and check in, is all! X told us two to come visit, yeah?”

Tommy quietly hummed skeptically, surveying her. Short brown hair hung barely as low as her shoulder, a neat, white, blue, and pink flower-crown sat upon her head. The colors must’ve been very purposeful, considering they matched with her colorful outfit of the same color.

“Fine, sure..Well, we’re still fuckin’ breathing, and we’re here. So you don’t really need to be here any longer, yeah?” Tommy scoffed, slumping back against the wall. Tubbo was already standing, nudging at his side.

“Thank you, for checking in. I- I’m sure this is a bit of a strange situation. That- Yeah, that’s my bad.” They chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of their neck. This caught Stress’ attention, turning towards the tene.

“Oh, no! This isn’t a problem at all. Dear, this happens all the time. Grian just- just appeared, one day, in our previous server. We walk out the portal for the first time- and boom! There that weirdo is!” Stress chuckled, her grin unwavering as she gave a playful nudge to the dirty blond beside her.

Grian scoffed, a smirk edging at his lips as he rolled his eyes. “Okay, but I’m not the only example of that happening- you didn’t have to pick me out specifically!”

“Sure I do, Love! You’re the first new Hermit to join, after me and Zed! I get to bully you, lovingly!” She cheered. Stress’ energy was absolutely efficacious, Tubbo couldn’t help but smile and cackle at her and Grian’s banter.

“Uh huh,” Grian scoffed, dramatically crossing his arms. “Last I checked, that was Iskall’s job to bully newcomers- oh, Gord, when you all walked out of the portal and they just decked me ? I mean, it didn’t really hurt all that bad, but it’s a matter of the principle!”

Stress seemed like she was almost gonna break down with laughter, clutching her stomach. “I forgot they did that with you, too! Iskall certainly is one that needs work with their introduction, that absolute weirdo!” She chostled, shaking her head fondly.

She then turned towards the two teens, reassuringly smiling. “They won’t give you any hard time, they’re just like that sometimes, especially in the beginning of a new season..They’re usually just incomprehensible in the beginning, I learnt!” She giggled, covering her mouth.

Tubbo awkwardly laughed, nodding. “Yeah- they, they sound like something.” It was..A strange environment, to be sure.

Sure, they knew of the Hermits, their reputation impossible to avoid- but most outsiders didn’t know much about the actual Hermits. They went by that title for a reason.

Tommy was having similar thoughts, he felt as if he was completely imposing on, everything. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care- it frankly was..Warming, almost, to see this. He missed being able to have that, on Dream’s server.

The blond in particular seemed to have tuned out, because by the time he snapped out of those thoughts, Grian was speaking again.

“We’re glad to see you’re both alright, but, I don’t think we’ve been exactly great hosts. You both have gotta be hungry- I know the last thing you two seem to want is help, but..We’d be happy to help you however we can. We can go get you fresh, real food. Or- you both come with us, and we take you to our central area, the Cowmercial district.”

Tommy stared blankly at Grian for a moment, brows knitted together in bewilderment. “The… Cow..merical district?” He’d repeat, squinting.

Grian snickered, nodding. “Yeah! The name just stuck. It’s our shopping district. We have a bakery- it’s never, ever too early for cake. There’s Doc’s shop, but that’s all villager-bought, if it’s the rare occasion that it’s stocked at all- so the Bakery may be the only option, for today.” He glanced back at Stress, who nodded in agreement.

“Only if you’d want to,” Stress would interject. “Either of us could come bring you food here- but, we figured you might want to just..Get out. You’re allowed to leave here whenever you want- but, navigating our server by yourself, for the first time? Not the easiest.”

The two teens glanced towards eachother. Tubbo looked like they were practically buzzing in place, at the idea of exploring the Hermits’ world. Tommy watched them for a moment, before quietly scoffing.

“..Yeah, okay, sure- how the hell do we even get out of here though, for starters?” Tommy crossed his arms, inching closer towards Tubbo. He, for one, was really not a fan of having to fly out.

Stress cheered excitably, pulling open her inventory. The woman promptly dropped a stack each to the two teens. “I came prepared, just in-case!” She grinned. With a swipe of her arm, the digital screen dissipated.

“If you know how to use elytras, X already said he’s more than happy to lend out two from the back-up system. I have some to spare, as well. But- you two never seemed the most comfortable in the air, during flight-based games.” Grian would add awkwardly, adjusting his own wings behind him.

Tommy didn’t pay much attention to the words- instead, he promptly threw open his inventory, gawking at the full stack of pearls. “What! I don’t think i’ve ever had this many pearls! Holy shit!” He pulled out the stack of sixteen.

One pearl manifested in his hand, while a holographic icon hovered beside him. The pixel-image of an enderpearl, with a large 15x in the corner in white font was projected for only his vision. The blond couldn’t remember a time he had so many enderpearls.

“Thank you! Wow- yeah, pearls aren’t really common in our server! This- this is really nice!” They felt giddy, as they pulled their’s out as well, the action muscle-memory.

“Well, I’m glad you two can put them to good-use, then!” She chuckled. The idle question of how can a server lack pearls skimming through her head for a moment.

Within seconds of her saying that, Tommy had already blindly tossed one of his pearls- promptly falling down from the ceiling, and landing on the floor with a short shriek. Tubbo straightened up from the sidelines, tilting their head.

“Tommy! What did you do?” Tubbo called out accusatorily, as they quickly popped their surrounding descriptor back on.

“Nothing!” Tommy quickly yelled back, lunging to their feet with a stumble as they dusted themselves off.

At the sidelines, Stress and Grian cackled, watching in lighthearted amusement. Tommy could feel his face flushed red with brief embarrassment, quickly attempting to play it off.

“Truer answer; I was being awesome. That was what, Tubbo. Are we eating or what? I want to throw pearls and go places. And eat, that too.” He quickly turned towards the two Hermits expectantly, narrowing his eyes at them.

Grian grinned, nodding. “Yes, yes we are! I have boats. Go ahead and pop up with your pearls, and we’ll fly out to you.” He explained briefly, pulling the boats from his inventory. The thin, digitized object manifesting in his hand.

Tommy turned expectantly to Tubbo. “You got this, Toob?” He tilted his head, watching his friend. Tubbo had immediately nodded vigoriously, running over towards the center of the room, the ceiling above open to the water.

“Yeah! I’ve got this, Big Man! No sweat!” They gave a toothy grin, shifting the enderpearl in their hand. Arching their arm back, the teen cautiously stepped back.

Their communicator had continued reading off the details of the room into their thin earpiece, primarily the dimensions. All they had to do was hit the wall leading up to the surface to get out. They could do that, surely.

With a huff of effort, they chucked the pearl. They heard it break through the under-surface of the water, and then they were submerged. Breaching the surface, they gasped for a moment. The ocean rippled, clothes heavy and soaked. They were certainly glad they had been in their casual clothes, rather than their presidential outfit.

Within a moment, Tommy was up beside them, quietly gasping as well. The blond pushed his hair back, lightly nudging Tubbo away from the gaping hole in the water beneath them- and then Grian and Stress flew out.

The sound from the rockets were deafened from beneath the ocean, thankfully. Only a thin trail of smoke followed them, the sight certainly unfamiliar to the fireworks the two teens had been accustomed to.

Both Hermits had dived straight into the shallow water with a splash, before the dirty-blond dropped down two boats.

“I want to drive! Tommy, i’m driving us!” Tubbo cried out, at the sound of the wood hitting the water. Beside them, Tommy scoffed.

“Tubbo! I’m not gettin’ motion sickness! We just woke up, no way. Your idea of ‘driving’ is no one elses, my friend.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he pulled himself into the boat. Beside him, Tubbo whined.

“C’mon, man! Nothing like a bit of motion-sickness to get the day started!” They playfully remarked. Despite that, they had already accepted their defeat, pulling up into the boat.

Stress and Grian watched the teens carefully, with Stress laughing lightheartedly at the banter between them as she pulled herself into the boat, behind Grian.

Grian, on the otherhand, was mostly quiet. A thin wisp of a smile was present, conveying one of bemusement. Tommy didn’t get a good look, but, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the look from Grian. He didn’t like it.

“Alright,” The older Brit at hand started. “We’re real close. No one should be at Looky Looky At My Cookie- and it should be early enough that there aren’t any real occupants at the Cowmerical District.” He explained, turning the boat as he got a small start ahead of the teens.

“Sure, then! That sounds g- wait, what’s that name?”

“C’mon, then!” Grian wouldn't answer Tubbo’s valid question, before boating off. Tommy quickly following behind, shouting indignantly after them.

It certainly was odd. It felt..Comforting, here. Certainly not relaxing. The opposite of cf relaxing- Tubbo had nothing but the craving to do something. But it was..Welcoming. It was strange. They hadn’t felt so- so unbothered, since..Ever, really. They liked it.

Tubbo wondered if it could stay this way.

Tommy wondered what the hell they were about to get themselves into.

#bets against the void fic #whitelist au #mika-posts #mcyt fic #mcyt au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fic #dream smp fic

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