#but its my favorite to read so why would i write anything else
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
evasive-anon · 10 months ago
Text
Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower
Fanon vs Canon
We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.
What I'm addressing:
What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?
Did Jason drug all the other Titans?
Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?
Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?
Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?
Was Tim crying or scared?
Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?
Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?
Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.
What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?
Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.
Look at these opening lines:
Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.
Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.
There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:
You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.
Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.
TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.
What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.
Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*
Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?
Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.
Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?
Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?
No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.
Does Jason break Tim's staff?
Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭
Tim crying/ being scared?
Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.
Message on the wall in Tim's blood?
TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.
Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.
Tumblr media
Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?
Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
goldenbuckyyy · 1 year ago
Text
LOVER
Summary: An inside look into the happily ever after between you and Draco that is well deserved.
Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader
Word count: 2.3kish
Warnings: SMUT (!!), raw sex, synchronized orgasms, slight dirty talk, cream pie, making out, established relationship.. anything else?! Let me know!!
A/N: I had always been wanting to write this little epilogue for my favorite little story, Heather. Please read my previous post which is just an explanation into why I hadn’t posted in a while! I hope you enjoy this. Title inspo: “Lover” by Taylor Swift.
All mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other side nor this one. 
I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts! Love reading them. 🫶🏻
Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Tumblr media
“Shhhh, baby. You gotta be quiet,” your husband rasps into your neck, his deep voice sending goosebumps loose all over your skin, as he licks a small strip up to your chin as he proceeds to nibble on your bottom lip. His warm, soft hands touching your skin which makes you feel like you're burning underneath him. 
You clench your eyes together to try and make sense of all of the different sensations you’re currently feeling. 
A strangled moan chokes its way out of the back of your throat as he angles his hips upwards to go in deeper as you instinctively wrap one of your legs around his waist to give him better access. Your hands touch his soft skin around his waist as you hold onto him, gripping tightly into his flesh. 
Your bodies synching together like they always have. Even after all these years. No amount of time would ever come close to being enough. You’re always going to want more. 
More. More. More. 
Your husband steals your moans as he covers your mouth with his own, his lips moving against yours softly, and your arms wrap around his neck to pull him into you. One of your hands moves into his hair, tugging at the roots gently as his own hands move to grip onto your hips, and you both start moving together. Speeding up when you start feeling the familiar ache in your lower belly. 
You both pull away from each other's necks, smiling when you both notice the same reflexes, and you reach up to kiss your husband's sweet mouth once more. His thrusting only grows rougher and deeper, but still moves with caution and it makes your entire body erupt in chills as you both moan into each other's mouth when you climax together. 
Always together. 
Your toes curl into the bed as your husband continues to thrust into you, spilling himself completely into your warmth, and you peck his lips a couple times as he leans his forehead against yours. Both letting out loud pants and small giggles. A cheeky grin overtakes his face as his eyelashes flutter against his creamy skin. 
His beautiful silver eyes meet yours as he kisses the tip of your nose and then he slowly pulls out of you which makes you whine at the loss of contact and he flips down next to you. He chuckles deeply as he rubs his chest, which is moving rapidly as he comes down from his orgasm, and his fingers brush against your breast. 
His fingers caress your naked skin around your chest, “God, I love you. I love how we’re still in sync even after all this time.” 
“So do I,” you whisper back sweetly to him as you reach over to him to kiss his cheek, which makes him flush like he always does, and you slowly start getting off the bed. You use the bedside table to steady yourself as you stand up. 
“It’s starting already?” He yells after you as you speed walk into the master bathroom that you are so incredible thankful for at this second because you feel like your bladder is about to burst. 
“Shush,” you exclaim back with a giggle as you proceed to finally sit down on the toilet and have yourself a wee. Your entire body relaxes at the feeling and you look down at your protruding belly. 
Three months to go. 
You reach over to grab your belly oil and rub it all over your stomach as you relax for a second. You almost jump off the seat when you hear your husband's voice from the door. 
“You’re a sight, my love.” 
“Draco!” You exclaim with an eye roll as you watch him watching you. He stands against the bathroom door, leaning against it, still naked, and you let yourself take in his body in its full glory. 
You take a minute to admire his muscular posture with his lean frame. You admire his creamy, milky skin which is covered in bruises. Which were caused by your mouth. Always leaving them everywhere because you absolutely loved to mark him up. You always made sure they were in places that could be hidden underneath his Auror robes. 
He still brought up the one time you accidentally marked him above the collar mark and everybody teased him for weeks until it faded away. Especially since Draco never used glamour charms on his skin. 
You admire his long legs with his equally long torso and you loved how tall he was. He always made you feel safe and secure in his arms. You lick your own lips as your eyes land on his valuable member. 
Your stomach tingles as he slowly strokes himself, still a bit hard for your morning activities, and you let out a laugh. 
“Stop it,” you demand as you clean yourself up and proceed to wash your hands. You stare at him from the mirror with a small smile. 
“Stop what?” He questions with a smirk as he goes to the toilet to do his own business. 
“I’m already pregnant with your sixth offspring because of that thing!” Your eyes looking wide at his cock in his hands. 
Draco lets out a loud, belly laugh that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle as he cleans himself up. “Technically it’s only your fifth pregnancy!”
“Don’t act like you don’t absolutely love it,” he whispers as he places a big kiss into your warm cheek causing you to giggle again. 
You leave him be as you walk into your shared walk in closet. You pull over a matching pair of baby blue knickers and a soft bralette. You wiggle your way into your comfiest pair of black leggings and soft knit white jumper. You slip your feet into your fuzzy gray slippers and start making your way down the hallway. Your ears are perking up trying to hear any signs that your kids are up.  
You start making breakfast the muggle way, thanks to Hermoine for teaching you, and you’re humming along to a song when the first sign of life invades your senses. 
You feel small hands sneak up on your belly as you smile brightly, pausing as you mix the eggs, and look down at bright gray eyes looking up at you. 
“Good morning, mummy!” Your little five year old daughter, Aries, whispers as she shows off her bright toothy smile. 
You bend to kiss her forehead as she giggles, “Good morning, my little angel. Where’s your brother?” 
She rubs your belly lightly as she then skips to her usual chair around the family table, “Brushing his teeth, mummy.” 
“Did you brush yours already?” You ask with a raised eyebrow and she giggles even louder. 
“Duh, mummy!!” 
Right on time, Aries' twin brother Phoenix, comes running down the hallway.. excessively loud and giggling as your oldest ten year old son, Scorpius is chasing after him. Your seven year old, Leo, is walking behind them slowly. Yawning and rubbing his eyes lazily as he trails into his seat at the table as he moans out a good morning to you and blows you an air kiss. 
“Be careful!!” You yell after them as Aries only watches them with a smile on her face as you continue cooking breakfast. You hear louder footsteps as Draco comes into the kitchen, ready for the day in his Head Auror robes, and holding your three year old daughter in his arms. 
He reaches you, pecking your lips sweetly as if you didn’t just spend the morning wrapped around him, and lets you kiss Lyra’s soft cheek as she smiles at you. Her tiny hand touches your hair slightly. 
Her eyes that match yours watch you as Draco walks away from you and tries to wrangle up all the kids for breakfast before he has to leave for work. 
The kids are all yelling, moving, and proceeding to sit in their favorite seats. You and Draco proceed to move in sync together as you both gather plates for the kids. Moving to fill each with cut up pancakes, scrambled eggs, cut up strawberries, and each kid getting their favorite drinks. You quickly make Lyra a yogurt bowl with extremely small slices of strawberries on the side and a cup of her favorite milk. 
Bumping hips and sneakily smiling at each other. 
Draco starts handing each one of your shared kids their own special plate and drink as you make your own plate along with your husbands. 
You set the plates down as you hand Draco’s hot coffee that’s under a stasis charm as he hands you a thankful smile and passes you your own cinnamon tea in your mug. 
The room is soon filled with loud children talking.  Scorpius and Leo arguing about what to do today after daddy gets home. Debating on if they should play quidditch or have a family movie night since it’s Friday. Which means daddy gets the weekend off. Aries and Phoenix are munching on their breakfast loudly and making silly faces at each other which causes them to giggle excessively at each other. Lyra sits in her high chair as she observes her siblings with a silly little smile on her face and trying her best to eat her yoghurt with her tiny pink spoon. 
Draco feeds her small bites of his own pancakes as Lyra happily accepts them. 
“What are your plans today, baby?” 
You hum as you finish your bite of food, “Hermoine and Pansy are coming over today. They say they want help with the wedding planning, but I think they’re having godchildren withdrawal.” 
Draco snickers at that with a slight eye roll, “Of course they are. Our children are the best.” 
You smile at him, “So, Pansy told Theo and now he’s coming over with the kids as well.” 
Draco nodded his head, “I’m sure Potter is happy about that.” 
“Anything to get Theo away from his nesting habits and begging Harry for another baby,” you say with a soft smile as you think of your best friends. 
Draco scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, “I’m sure his baby fever will end once he sees your pregnant belly and our adorable Lyra. Didn’t they just adopt baby Sirius?” 
“Baby Sirius is going to be four already! Then Lily and James are already Scorpius age. Theo is just scared of empty nesting, but Harry says he wants to wait until this big case he’s dealing with passes.” 
Draco hums in agreement, “I wish we were like that.” And he proceeds to give you a soft teasing smile.  
You poke him with your fork and shake your head, “We have kids basically every two years, these twin girls are the last ones!” You eye him with an authoritative look. 
“Anything you say, my love.” 
“Do you think Hermoine and Pansy will ever adopt or have kids of their own?” You ask as you watch Lyra to make sure she’s eating. Draco doesn’t miss the tone of your voice at your question. 
“You’ve noticed the way Hermoine looks at your belly, huh?” 
“I have,” you reply softly. “It’s just.. Pansy always says she’s okay with just being a godmother, but ‘Min…” you trail off with a sad smile. 
Draco reaches over to your hand and squeezes, “I understand, trust me. Maybe get a second with Granger and just talk to her about what we’ve noticed.” 
“Maybe. I don’t want to overstep,” you say as you sip your drink. Scorpius is the first one that finishes eating and he quickly thanks you for breakfast with a kiss on your cheek as he moves to start washing the dishes. You admire your first born for a second and can’t help but love how much he looks like his father and how big he’s gotten. 
The same milky white skin with bright pale hair and even with the same matching gray eyes. His exact copy. Oh, you can’t help but tear up at how much you love your first baby boy. The first baby that made you a mother and taught you about a mothers love. 
The one who made you want a million more babies. 
Leo and Phoenix soon start helping clean up the plates as Draco helps Lyra get cleaned up. Aries helps him as you use your magic to clean up the table and Lyra’s high chair. 
You hum in contentment as you proceed to kiss the cheeks of all your kids. Scorpius blushes, Leo kisses you back, Phoenix and Aries giggle, and Lyra pulls you in to attack you with kisses and hugs. Draco soon jumps into all the loving before he has to floo to work. 
Draco piles all the kids into his arms as he squeezes them into his arms and then tells them to go play before their cousins come over. 
He gently pulls you into his arms as one of his hands slips underneath your jumper to rub your belly as he kisses your lips sweetly. The feeling of his lips on your sends sparks all over your body like it always does and you savor his taste. 
“I love you,” you whisper into him as he smiles against your lips. 
“I love you more,” he whispers back with a couple more pecks against your smiling mouth. 
“Be careful and I’ll see you soon,” you kiss your lips one more time as he steps into the fireplace. 
“Always am, my love. And I’ll be counting down the minutes,” he says with a wink as he grabs a handful of floo powder and calls out his location. He bursts into green flames and your hearing soon fills with the sounds of your children’s giggles and loud voices playing together.  
You take a moment to take it all in. 
Loving the same boy… now man for as long as you can remember. The amazing life you both have built. It was never easy and there have been many hardships, but it was incredibly worth it. 
What a beautiful life you both had built slips into your mind as you smile to yourself in pure bliss. 
5K notes · View notes
olderthannetfic · 9 months ago
Note
Now I'm wondering how countries like Japan and China teach literacy.
Since kanji / hanzi don't really have that much in the way of phonetic elements, they kinda have to teach them by memorization and I don't think they have many reading comprehension problems over there.
(Although both countries do have supplementary phonetic writing systems in the form of bopomofo and pinyin for China, and the kanas for Japan)
--
FAVORITE SOAPBOX TOPIC UNLOCKED!
RELEASE THE KRAKEN!
It's a little closer to teaching vocabulary than spelling, but the same kinds of principles apply: You teach the building blocks, like the traditional radicals, which aren't so different from teaching Latin and Greek roots in an English class for English speakers.
And, as a matter of fact, lots of those radicals do predict pronunciation, just not in every single case. They can also be clues to meaning, but again, not absolutely consistently. Many characters have a sound-cueing radical on one side and a meaning-cueing radical on the other. It's just that only some are still useful in the modern day, while others are more like the English word 'plumbing' where knowledge of Roman lead pipes explains why this word comes from the one for lead, but the root probably wouldn't help a kid learn the word in the first place.
One similarity to teaching phonics would be teaching students to tell very complicated and similar characters apart: you want to help a student spot all the little building blocks of the character and then spot the ones that are different, not just glance at the whole character and get a general overall vibe. If you do a whole look-based approach, too many characters are too easy to mistake for one another.
Remembering a bajillion Chinese characters is hard if you're trying to memorize them in a year and not all of elementary school, but I think people who don't read them underestimate how many component parts there are and how approachable they can be if you start by learning fundamentals, not just memorizing a few individual characters as though they have no relation to anything else.
They're actually pretty systematic, just in the way that English spelling is with its overlapping systems and historical artifacts, not in the way that highly regular Spanish spelling is.
Having taken a lot of Japanese classes, I will say that Japanese as a foreign language textbooks often do a piss poor job of this and totally do teach kanji in a sight words-y way... But my Mandarin class started with important foundational concepts that served me well in Japanese later even if I bombed out of Chinese class at the time.
Can you tell how irritated I am by all the foreign language learners who think characters are sooooo hard when, really, it's just their crappy textbook? Haha.
They're moderately hard in the way that learning a full adult spectrum of vocabulary is hard, but people do that for foreign languages all the time. The countries that use characters do tend to make sets that are smaller for certain kinds of applications, same as we have things like simple English wikipedia, but a literate adult will always know lots more, whether it's from their career in engineering or their predilection for historical romance novels.
Uh... anyway, the answer is "Bit by bit in elementary school, just like in any other country".
682 notes · View notes
princesssmars · 7 months ago
Text
i'd love just about anyone, so why was it you?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
a victoria neuman x reader
your talent for singing is finally starting to take you places in the city of lights. so why did it have to introduce you to a woman who might ruin it all?
wc : 10.248
contains : fxf relationship. readers hair and skin aren't described. fluff. angst.nsfw including sex and language. the french. barely proof-read.
a/n : i cant believe there are no fics for this fine ass woman yet but i am nothing but a pioneer idk. in my daydreams this was like mafia au victoria but i literally never write or dream of those so i opted out lmao. go watch gen v. everyone always talks about how good the cover is but nonante-cinq by angele is a beautiful album so i recommend listening to that for french vibes. enjoy <3
Tumblr media
it was the most stereotypical and overplayed song ever, but damn did you love la vie en rose.
just the concept of the song was romantic to you. to live every day like it would be magnificent, like you could know a day would be your last and look back at it and not regret a single thing. it meant looking at the world with a positivity that these days was mostly faked or artificial.
after the life you've lived, the things you've seen firsthand, you need that positive light in your life more than anything else. especially right now, as your manager is hounding you over the phone about your next gig.
now you loved your manager, nancy, you really did. she took you in and was honest when no one else would be, stood by you when no one else wanted to give you a real chance. but sometimes it felt like she didn't really believe in you. obviously, she believed you had talent, or else she would have 'left you in the dust for the rats to pick apart,' in her own words. it was almost like she couldn't fathom that what you had was real, like you didn't truly deserve all the things that were coming to you.
but as long as you were paying her, she didn't bother to speak up on it.
you were listening to her drone on and on into the speaker from your phone, holding the object up to your ear with one hand as you hold a menu to order something from the cafe waitress who's waiting beside you.
"ill have an uhhhh... le marie antoinette, and a coffee with sugar and cream please," you hand the menu to the waitress after she writes down your order, heading back into the cafe with a smile. this cafe was one of your favorites, nestled below an apartment building in one of the inner city arrondissements so you could sit outside beneath an umbrella and admire the city before you. "nancy, i don't see why i can't just...politely turn it down? it sounds like it's a glorified pin-up girl gig, le bellevilloise is offering for me to sing there exclusively for three months-"
"no, that's what im trying to tell you if you'd let me finish." you can hear nancy's telltale sigh through the phone. she had a short temper when she was stressed, something you sadly had in common, and you could hear her clicking a pen through the receiver. "this is an international gala slash fundraiser, attended by the one percent of the one percent. billionaires, senators, diplomats, everything. the event organizer asked for you specifically, so turning it down is a bad look. aka, you're doing it. go out and get a pretty dress. ill send you more details later."
the phone shut off and you let out a huff of air, crossing your right leg over your left beneath the table. once you have your meal and bite into your pastry you can't help but close your eyes at how good it tastes; the combination of the crunch of the macarons, the near-overwhelming sweetness of the cream, and the savory juice that leaks from the raspberries never gets old.
you don't know how you feel about this whole gala thing. sure its a great way to make connections and earn a fat stack of cash that will probably last you few weeks, but you've learned before that the people that you most admire, celebrities, politicians, even superheroes, can't be trusted. and being in a room full of them to perform wasn't at the top of your christmas wish list.
but like everyone else in the world, you were finding money hard to pass up on. just by the lowball nancy told you, you'd be able to comfortably pay the next month's rent and fix up your electric scooter, maybe even enough to save up for that beautiful flat you saw online with the grand windows and nice floor plan.
it'd only be a few hours of singing and kissing up to a bunch of snobs and you'd be done. easy peasy.
finding a dress wasn't to hard. your modeling connections from before you started to focus on singing gave you access to a few, good quality clearance pieces for your picking. you figure that the people you were performing for would prefer something classy and elegant, so you picked out a sleeveless black dress with black opera gloves, accessorized by a diamond necklace and earrings. one of your stylist friends, alex, who you asked to help do up your hair told you 'you're definitely gonna shag a rich man looking like this, just ask them if they have any friends for me!' and after a quick 'please don't wish that upon me' and a spritz of perfume you were ready.
the hours before you got on stage were nothing short of both nerve-racking but exhilarating. you rode in a standard taxi, your slight jitters noticed by the slightly balding man in the front. he eyes you pretty oddly when you got in the car before using you if you were a model, telling you that his daughter would like an autograph if you were. you felt slightly flustered when you had to tell him you weren't, but gave him some tips to tell his daughter if she wanted to pursue it. after around twenty minutes of driving through the city the car stops and you're escorted by a crew member into a grand building, those types you pass by and dream of getting the chance just to step into.
after that its a rush of meeting the event planner who gives you another run down of the evening and then meeting with the band members, a nice group of jazz players who you had heard about on the news for their blends of old and new methods of performing music. they played you a piece on their instruments in their dressing room, and it felt like hanging out with old friends listening to tunes as one twirled you around and the others laughed and the air felt warm and fuzzy.
later its time for your set, where you'll sing as the guests come in and take occasional breaks to save your breath and let whoever is hosting this talk. so you get up on your mini stage, make sure you look alright and you're in tune with the band, and then you do what you do best.
you've never felt better than how you do while you sing. every time you do so you tell a story, tales of success and tragedy and love and heartache. while you sing your favorite thing to do is to admire the crowd. when you were younger it gave you horrible stage fright, but as you grew up and saw just how much people loved your voice it made you confident, if not the tiniest bit narcissistic.
as you look out at the guests of tonight you see what's expected. important and powerful men donned in suits, their wives standing on their arms in glamourous gowns, you swear that you even see some fairly famous celebs in the mix, and they were all listening intently to you and your voice.
and that's when you saw her. near the back of the room with a glass of red wine in her hand, dark hair flowing over her shoulders, and darker eyes trained on you. in this profession you get used to people staring at you for hours on end, but something about this woman unnerves you slightly.
a short while later your set is over and after a round of applause the organizer tells you to enjoy yourselves, and that you're free to indulge in whatever food is left. after a brief touch-up in the dressing room and making sure you look presentable, you head out to get yourself something to eat. you keep getting stopped by people telling you how beautiful your performance was, how they'd love to get in contact with your agent to book you for future events, and your regular dose of creepy old guys hitting on you. but besides that things were going pretty well.
some servers were waking around with trays of champagne, but you figured since everything was complimentary you would treat yourself to something stronger. you head to the bar and order yourself a strong cocktail, and as soon as you finish your order a figure sits on the stool next to yours.
"get me a scotch on the rocks, thanks."
you glance at them from the corner of your eye and feel your heart beat faster when you see
it's the woman from before. from this close distance, you can admire her entirely, and god is she gorgeous. she looks so put together, not a hair out of place, and wearing a perfectly tailored suit that makes you guess she's some kind of wealthy businesswoman.
after not so secretly checking her out, she turns her body towards you and looks at you with a smile.
"im sure you already know, but you have an enchanting voice."
you look down bashfully, thinking the same about her. she speaks like she's so sure of what she's saying like there's no room for debate or argument.
"thank you. no matter if i know or not, it doesn't take much to make me a little nervous every time i perform."
the bartender brings over both of your drinks and she tilts hers to you.
"trust me, theres no need. you're nothing but a natural, one of the best singers i've ever heard."
"ah, now you're exaggerating. is there a reason you're complimenting me like you're being paid to do so?"
she shakes her head, setting down her glass of liquor with a clink. "not anything nefarious, if that's what you're thinking. just glad i get to talk to a beautifully talented woman."
jeez, she was laying it on thick. normally this was coming from some fifty-year-old man with greasy skin and weird teeth, but it felt nice coming from her. she was obviously gorgeous, leaving her body language open in case you wanted to decline and she would walk away in a moment's notice.
"im glad i get to talk to you too, miss?"
"victoria. its a pleasure to talk to you, miss y/n."
for around an hour or two the both of you sat at that bar, blocking out the fake laughs of investors and boisterous noises of people who got a little too friendly with the free champagne. she was so attentive to you. asking about what got you into singing and what brought you to paris by your non-native accent. you normally kept the finer details of your past a close-guarded secret, but you figured there couldn't come any harm from telling this attractive stranger a few things about yourself before never seeing her again.
"you're telling me at only sixteen years old, you flew to paris by yourself and made a living for yourself? you've got balls on you, sister."
"yeah yeah, but im nothing special. i just got tired of all the bullshit in the u.s., y'know? the greed, the cynicism, the-"
"superhero bullshit?"
you giggled while she smirked, observing your smile and how it made your eyes squinch.
"well i wouldn't put it like that but...superheros? really? its just, they make it so american, in a really really annoying way. i just couldn't deal with that being a reality. and where better than paris? it seems like voughts all but forgotten about it recently, thank god.”
"i understand. and i know we just met, but it does suit you. 'beautiful runaway finds passion, life, and love in the city of lights'. best cliche there is."
"and what a damn good cliche it is to be. although i haven't been that lucky on the love front."
her eyebrow raises and her nail traces around the rim of her glass.
"im sorry but i simply cant believe that. someone like you would have people lining up for a chance to talk to you, let alone date you."
you dryly chuckle before taking another long swig of your glass of champagne, dancing just on the edge of being intoxicated. you understood why everyone else was drinking this, it was sweet but strong.
"people have tried, of course. but sadly most of my escapades end in tragedy. very melodramatically. but enough about me, I'm guessing this isn't gonna go my way and you have someone waiting for you at home?"
"im offended you still think so low of me. but no, there was someone but it didn't work out. now its just me and my daughter."
god, she was a milf. if there was a god you prayed he would let you get lucky tonight.
"well, im sorry to hear it didnt work out."
"are you really?"
she looks at you with a smirk on her face.
"no, im not."
that was all she needed to ask you to come back with her to her hotel.
and not just any hotel, she was rich enough to be spending two weeks in the damn ritz. asking again what she did for a living didn't get you very far, the only hint you got being that it helped her change the world. ominous but whatever. it had to be legitimate if she was invited to that gala.
the cautious and common sense side of you is snuffed out for the night the moment she set her hand over the covered skin of your thigh in the car, the feeling of her hand on your lower back leading you through the pristine lobby of the hotel, that same hand helping you take off your dress and take you apart slowly over the rest of the night.
when you wake up the sun is peeking through the curtains, the softness of the sheets your laying on calling you back to sleep before you get up and look around.
you only got a few seconds to admire the room last night before victoria was on you, and now in the light of day you could truly take everything in. you find a note left by the woman, letting you know she had to leave temporarily for an important job thing and that she'd be back my lunch, inviting you to call up room service and enjoy the room intil then.
you were expecting for her to tell you to pack your shit up and go, so despite the oddness this was a nice surprise. besides, there was no way you were gonna pass up on ordering a five-star breakfast you didnt have to pay for.
after indulging in a meal brought by room service and finding ways to pass the time, you text your manager after she happily lets you know that your night was a success and that your payment should be cleared shortly. while you're in the middle of wondering if you should answer her query about the host wondering where you wandered off to last night, the sound of a door opening makes your head jerk towards the small entry area, victoria coming in through the doorway dressed in a tan suit and carrying a large black briefcase on her arm.
"ah, youre still here!,” she sets her bag on a glass table near the door and strides into the room, eyes connected with yours the whole time. you weren’t feeling nervous before, but under her gaze you wonder if maybe you should have taken that free meal along with some tiny soaps from the bathroom and headed back home.
“yeah, figured i’d stick around for whatever. besides, i had to stay and blame you for my manager thinking i got kidnapped.”
“i’ll make sure to apologize and send her an edible arrangement. besides, i hope to take up more of your time in the future.”
your eyes bulge so hard you’re sure you look like a moron. you cover it up by getting up to get yourself another cup of coffe from the tray the food came in on.
“well i should’ve guessed this was more than a one night stand when you allowed me to order up breakfast. but now i have to admit i’m slightly scared you’re actually plotting to traffick me.”
"trust me, that wouldn't be good for business. id just like to see you some more, if that would be alright with you.
was that an actual question? after the night you had and the way she’s been treating you, you didn’t see much of a choice except to say yes.
she tells you that a few hours later she has a flight back to america, but that she wouldn't mind spending the day with you if you're free. you agree to get a little bite to eat and it turns into a whirlwind day of showing her around the city you call your home. she has to wear giant sunglasses the whole time and have a mysterious security detail not too far behind, but you wouldn't change anything about it.
at the end of it all, she bids you goodbye in front of your taxi, admiring the cute outfit she bought for you so you wouldn't have to go home in your dress from the night prior, promising that she'll keep in touch with you once she gets settled in back a new york, jokingly telling you she'll send you a postcard. as you sit in the back of the taxi, your heart inflates a little as you take in the events of the last day. you never liked to mix business with pleasure in this way, partly because most of those business people were gross perverts and also that it could damage your career beyond repair, but with victoria you can't help but think that it was worth it.
eventually, a few days pass by, and the only calls you've gotten are from friends congratulating on what they heard was another great performance. and as nice as all the praise and the new gigs you started to get felt, the longer you heard no word back from victoria, it started to eat away at you inside.
back at your favorite cafe you sit with two of your oldest friends, jamie and chloe, as they ramble about the details of their changing lives and jobs. you don't know when you zoned out but eventually, chloe's manicured finger lightly pokes at your cheek, giggling when you make a playful motion to bite it.
"where'd you go just now? take me with you before jamie keeps talking about his new lover."
"hey!" jamie pouts, "you're just jealous because i've been regularly having passionate sex allll night long while you're still vying over your boss." you hear a shocked gasp behind him and you all turn to see an elderly couple looking at jamie like he's said the most blasphemous thing they've ever heard.
"really classy, james." you snort.
"what the hell! you're supposed to be on my side! everyone has noticed how you've been in a better mood since that gala. alex told us how they checked up on you afterwise and you showed up a day later with a new outfit and a hickey on your neck."
"that is- god, that’s so intrusive and so like them,” you rolled your eyes. you knew as soon as alex saw you that morning that they’d be gossiping to everyone about the state they saw you in. “and i don’t kiss and tell like that. at least not in public like this.”
“ok, so we’ll stop by your place tonight with some wine and talk all about it tonight. agree?”
“what? no-”
“agree!” chloe beams and shakes hands with jamie across the table, blowing you kisses before leaving her share of the bill on the table and leaving with some excuse of having to be somewhere. you glare at jamie as a warning before he gives you a kiss on the cheek and does the same. you grumble before biting into your muffin.
a few hours later you’re sitting on your soft sofa with jamie’s head in your lap and chloe on the other side, talking and laughing about old stories from your jobs. you take a sip of merlot right before jamie brings up what you were hoping they’d forgotten about by now.
“ok ok, enough chatter. seriously, chlo, you cackle like a seagull. y/n, when are you going to tell us about this mystery lover of yours? do you need another glass of wine to start talking?”
“don’t even think about pouring me another glass. look, there’s not much to say, ok? i was singing, she was staring at me from across the bar, we flirted a little, that was it!”
they stared.
“you want more?”
“how could we not? we haven’t seen you like this with anyone! not since we took you on that tourist tour on the seine!”
that…that took you for a spin. you remembered it clear as day, them tugging you along when they’d heard since you came to paris you’d been focusing on building up your image and working. it was more a joke, but the lights of the boat, the sky and the lights made you feel like you were in the most perfect moment of your life. hearing them compare that to how you looked now had a nervous feeling building in your gut.
“we spent the night together. and it was…good. really good. she let me stay while she went out, bought me a new outfit then said she’d be in touch.”
your friends are silent. way too silent. you’re afraid they’re about to laugh and judge you before they’re squealing and tackling you, pulling back when you groan after you almost spill your wine on your clothes.
"god, why are you always the lucky one? this isn't fair! at all!" chloe groans while dramatically resting her head on your shoulder, jamie still giggling as the wine clearly starts to take an effect on him. "please, please tell us what happens next before i scream."
"no thats- i mean, thats it. so far. for now." you stutter along your words as your friends' faces go blank yet again, except this time without a hint of a chuckle or smile.
"what the hell do you mean 'that's it.'? she ghosted you?" jamie gasps.
"no, she didnt ghost me-"
"sweetheart, im sorry to say this but you have been ghosted. in a really dickhead way."
"its not like that! she's a busy person with a serious job and a kid and responsibilities!"
you briefly hear chloe snicker "milf?" before you roll your eyes.
"she's gonna contact me. and even if she doesn't, maybe it was just a nice one-time thing! everyone knows I'm great at those."
jamie snickers before chloe smacks his shoulder in a second.
"why? why did you laugh?"
they share a look before she smacks his shoulder again.
"would you stop? i have pains, you know this. but y/n, we know you. we love you. but your latest stints haven't been...the most successful. or left you in the best headspaces."
"he's right, honey. remember the last girl, hannah? one of the worst situationships i've ever seen. you told us you would be alright when she broke it off and then we found you at that lousy bar at eleven in the morning..."
you start biting at your lip. there was nothing you hated more than when they told you the truth about how you could act. it wasn't your fault that all the time your relationships got messy, or that you got attached a little quickly. people didn't understand but a life like yours could be lonely. standing up on a stage and performing for people who want you to do just that and only that: sing and look like a glamourous pin-up doll. most of the time its the other performers who even bother to ask if your throat is alright after singing for hours.
so yes, sometimes you rushed into relationships. and you might have done it again in the dumbest way possible.
"i just...she let me stay after, y'know? and she came back and brought me with her again. why go through that effort just to leave me behind like trash?" your friends pouted before closing in to comfort you, rubbing your back and giving you small affirmations.
for a month you go into a rut. unless it's performing or going to the dentist for a checkup you don't leave your house. you become pretty good acquaintances with the grocery delivery boy, benny, who started panicking when he realized he forgot one of your items until you assured him it was fine. it wasn't the first time you'd grown so oddly attached to a romantic prospect, and it wasn't the first time you'd gotten hurt by it. you spend your time moping on your couch and binge-watching your favorite show for the third time when your phone buzzes from beside you.
nancy schmancy : call me.
you rolled your eyes. she could have just called you in the first place, but no. she had to be extra about it. you press the call button and don't have to wait even five seconds for her voice to ring in your ear.
"do you want to know what mister barbier just emailed me?"
"i think you already have that answer for me."
"he said, and i quote, 'tell y/n i send my best wishes. her performance last night was hauntingly beautiful, and i'm hoping it was one of her greatest acts yet.'"
"if you ask me, it sounds like i did a pretty good job."
"it sounds like he thought you were singing your damn suicide note!" she groaned, and you could hear her face scrunching from over the phone. "i don't know what is going on with you recently, and i don't want to sound insensitive, but if you can't manage to keep your work and personal life separate, even i can't help you make it far in this business. clients may say they want you to be expressive but they only mean so far. unhappy music means unhappy customers, capeche?"
"i understand, nancy. ill send a personal apology to mister barbier."
"good. ill call you soon to let you know about any new gigs. take care of yourself. seriously."
the line clicks and you toss your phone onto the couch and take another sip of sauvignon blanc from your rose-shaped wine glass. it pained you to admit it, but nancy had a point. if you kept letting yourself mope in your feelings you'd run out of people who wanted you to sing, and if the point came where you were out of gigs...you didn't even want to think about it. if you weren't singing you weren't living.
only a few hours after that call you manage to get back to normal. you go out and get your own groceries, deciding to indulge yourself and buy the ingredients for some recipe you saw online months ago. one of your clients cries at your performance, ecstatically telling you they'll be in talks with your manager to set up a stable contract. things really start to look up. two weeks later you even manage to get the number of a cute girl, elise, a tall woman with dyed hair who reached for the same vintage music box as you at an open market.
you're smiling as you look down at the messy ink on a slip of paper, the numbers and tiny smily face distracting you as you enter the hallway to your apartment. so distracted that you nearly trip over a object on the floor, looking down to see...a bouquet?
a really gorgeous bouquet you notice as you bend over to pick it up. its a collage of dusty blues and off-colored ivories, and when you brought it closer to your nose for a whiff you felt a sense of bliss. you bring it into your apartment with a skip in your step before you spot a piece of paper among the flowers, plucking it from the collection and reading it over.
upon closer inspection, you can see its a postcard, the cover a flattering shot of the statue of liberty with text that reads "love from new york city!". you try to calm your heart down at the location and the 'love' part, but you've already gotten your hopes up when you turn the card around to read the message:
xxx-xxx-xxxx
sorry for the wait. i'll make it up to you, angel.
you'd never felt so conflicted as you did in the past five seconds. half of you was vindicated that yes, this attractive woman didnt leave you high and dry and did actually have a deeper interest in you, but the other part was angry. and embarrassed that you were angry, because again, you spent less than a day with this woman, she didn't owe you anything. but also yes the hell she did.
before you could get yourself together you were harshly tapping the number into your cell, biting at your lip as the phone slowly rings.
"y/n, is that you?" echoes from the line, victorias voice sounding and running over your head like soft silk. no, no, stop it. focus.
"howd you know it was me? im sure you have other people who'd be calling you this late."
"certainly not anyone with a phone number from paris. besides, i was hoping it'd be you."
"well, i would have been flattered two weeks ago but unfortunately i dont think your words could phase me right now."
she sighs and the line goes silent. you feel bad for being catty for a few seconds before you brush it off. she's the one who played with your emotions and promised to call you but never did. she had this coming.
"im sorry, really i am. i've been busy with things at work and my daughter-"
damn it, she pulled the kid card again.
"i just...dont like being lied to. or led on. maybe its my fault for beeing too clingy-"
"no, no. dont apologize. if it means anything youve been on my mind for weeks now."
"yeah, same here. except my thoughts havent been all that nice." you laugh.
"deserved. and id like to make it up to you."
"oh yeah? let me guess, this time we'll spend two nights together?"
"close. how about two weeks. in new york."
you don't know if you should laugh. you feel like you should, so you do. but she isn't.
"you...you're being serious."
"im being serious."
what do you even say? what do you even do? of course, whatever higher power there is would make your life stable and steady for the past few months then throw this in to shake you up. you really should have been expecting it, considering...
you shake yourself back to the present. victoria is still waiting on the other line, unwilling to rush you into a decision, apparently. you'd applaud her for her chivalry if you weren't so stunned.
"victoria, come on. we've only met once, and while it was nice it was brief. now you want me to upend my life and career to jet off to america? it sounds crazy."
"you make me a bit crazy, honestly. besides, you were telling me in bed you haven't been in the states since you left, i have a feeling you miss it more than you let on."
you shuffle in your spot, reminded that you're standing in your cold-ass kitchen and you haven't changed out of the outfit you wore out today. but half of your uncomfortableness is from a feeling gnawing at your chest because she's right. at this point you can barely remember the night you left your childhood home, but you know it was rushed. you wanted to forget everything.
"i think you're also forgetting that i have a blossoming career here. are you gonna pay my definitely going to be pissed off manager her wages? plus i was supposed to be first pick for this really good gig-"
"i'll pay for everything, i promise. dont forget that i have connections. in two weeks they''ll be singing you praises across the globe."
you close your eyes and take in a breath.
"can you make my ticket first class?"
-
one thing you didnt miss about america? just how...much everything was, all the time.
your flight was quiet. victoria didnt hesitate to book you an expensive ticket, almost taking offense to your request for a nice one and scheduling you for business class, sending you a text to get lots of rest in the ultra-luxe beds on the plane. it was probably one of the best nights sleeps you'd had in months.
when you got off the plane there were two tall escorts holding a sign with your last name on it, taking the suitcases from your hands before you could say anything and leading you into a sleek black car. a voice in the back of your head starts screaming but you ignore it. for now.
the men in the car give you some basic rundowns, how they'll constantly be hovering over you during your stay for your "protection", and that they'll be taking you to settle into a hotel until victoria makes contact, and the little voice starts freaking out again and telling you that you've slept with and are fraternizing with a mob boss. at least it's more exciting than your last few flings.
the car goes silent after that, and you put in your earbuds as you watch the city go by. you weren't from new york, but you loved watching movies set in the bustling cityscape. the buildings really are humongous, and you see so many different types of people it sets your brain on a whirlwind.
you look back down at your phone after the fifth 'the seven' advertisement in one block.
yet again you're led into a clearly extremely expensive hotel, breezing through reception before you are led to a luxuriant hotel room, the bodyguards ignoring you as you giggle and flop onto the bed, waving them off when they tell you they'll be posted outside.
the sheets feel heavenly on your skin, and with the soft sunshine from the window beaming down on you and the gentle hustle and bustle of new york outside, you think you could fall asleep in a minute. but, begrudgingly, you peel yourself form the bed and open your suitcase to start putting your clothes away before taking a quick shower in the giant bathtub.
just as you exit the shower and wrap your body in a towel, your phone starts ringing and as soon as you read the 'v' in the contact name you push answer and bring it to your ear.
"hello? vic?"
"hey, hon. eager to talk to me?"
"you called me. and 'hon'? really? we've moved to petnames already?"
"figured id start making up for those weeks with no contact. and id like to do so again tonight. i wanna bring you somewhere."
your mouth quirks up in a smile as you re-adjust the towel around your body, the phone nearly slipping from its quick placement between your phone and ear, "id really like that. i hope its out to dinner, i didnt care to eat any of the plane food."
“yes, it’s to dinner. but its up to you if you want it to be fancy or casual. i know its tacky but there’s this pretty cute french place near where i live...”
“that vaguely sounds like an invitation to your place, but ill let it slide. are you gonna pick me up or are your special agents going to escort me everywhere for the next few weeks?”
“special agents? what agents?”
a bead of water drips from your neck down your back and it feels like the tip of a knife. a pressure builds in the back of your throat and your fingers grip the fabric of your towel. “what…that’s a joke, right?”
her laughter rings in your ear and you are seconds away from hanging up the call.
“sorry, sorry. i sometimes have a weird sense of humor. you'll get used to it.”
“i doubt it.”
“and i'm hopeful. i'll let you go so you can get ready, i'll be by in under an hour.”
you hang up after a sweet goodbye and gently sit on the toilet. your brain is rushing to catch up after the conversation like your body goes on autopilot when you hear victoria's voice. its terrifying and its thrilling. and you don't know why a part of you likes the feeling.
after you brush your teeth, do some quick skincare, debate over shaving just in case, and spend twenty minutes picking out a cute outfit, you finally hear the gentle knocking on the door while you're double-checking over the content of your purse.
rushing to open the door, you're greeted with the sight of a smiling victoria, her hands tucked into the pants of her clearly expensive pinstriped pantsuit. you're admiring the look of her hair tucked back into a ponytail when she's reaching forward and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
"you look perfect. come on, i made us a reservation."
and it turned out to be a perfect night. she did end up taking you to the french place, allowing you to order whatever you wanted. that place was weirdly empty, only a handful of other patrons inside. you were pleased to see that the waitress was french herself, having a small chat about the customs and foods she missed while she praised the authenticity of the food at the restaurant.
only a day and you had already forgotten how forward the people back home could be, because the waitress throws a subtle look at victoria and compliments you on finding such an attractive woman. when she leaves vic just smiles.
“ok, id say at this point we’re doing pretty good with the communication thing, right?” you ask, taking a sip of the pricey wine your date ordered.
“yeah, id say that.”
you finger the rim of your glass, the nerves getting to you before you ask your question. "i want you to tell me what your job is. your actual job, not some vague ass title. you have security following gus around, so i feel like i should know."
"no, no, you're right. i just didnt wanna scare you off. or have you think differently of me once i told you." she sighs, thumbing the napkins on the table. "i work in the government. i'm a congresswoman, to be exact."
you don't doubt she's a politician for a second, because she shows no hint of nervousness at your lack of emotion.
"are you...a good congresswoman?"
"i don't really know how to answer that." she laughs.
"i'm sorry. i knew you were important enough to be at that gala, but a politician is...tricky."
she reaches across the table and lays her hand palm up, smiling when you rest yours on top of it. "look, i get it. i should have told you sooner but please understand why i didn't. i wanted to get to know you as normally as possible, without all of the press and politics in the way."
"normally as possible, huh? that includes sleeping together on the first night?"
you're trying to show your acceptance of the situation with your humor, but you can tell victoria can sense your uneasiness at the situation. here you were thinking you had found some under-the-radar millionaire to dote on you and instead, you'd roped in someone whose job was entirely in the public eye that could be put in danger at the flip of a switch.
"how about we finish up and take this back to my place? i'll tell you everything that you wanna know about me. no matter how personal."
you stare into her eyes for a few seconds and decide that she looks genuine, getting confirmation that her daughter is staying with a friend before ending your meal and following her to her place.
for the amount of money she's ready to spend on you, you're surprised to see that victoria lives in a chic but quaint townhome only a twenty-minute walk from the restaurant. she gently takes off your coat and instructs you to sit with her on the couch, pressing on a remote to turn on her fireplace.
after a few hours and two more glasses of wine, victoria had opened up to you about nearly everything in her life. the mysterious death of her birth family, being adopted by a man who helped pushed her to go into a political career, her polite but loveless marriage with her ex. she even shows you a picture of zoe that she has in her wallet, taking the chance to gush over her daughter. she seems like such a sweet girl.
maybe it's the wine or maybe it's the way vic is opening up to you so freely, but you decide to tell her more about your past. how you always wondered why you barely stuggled moving to another continent at such a young age, or the fact that you dont even remeber why you had the drive to leave your parents home in the first place. you didnt even remember the last words you said to each other.
and throughout it all she's nothing if not attentive, she doesnt ask questions unless you give her permission too, keeping her eyes on you and gently placing her hand over yours.
you feel a turning in your stomach when she moves a stray hand of hair behind your ear. you told yourself to try taking things slow this time, but your body is starting to feel fuzzy and shes looking at you like she wants to devour you.
she decides to indulge you and gently brushes her lips against yours, smiling at the way your breath staggers. your head moves forwards to finaly get her to kiss you but she jerks her head back.
"i want you to tell me what to do."
god, your stomach feels hot. this is new, but a really arousing style of new. the last time you both slept together she had taken a careful but unwavering charge, unraveling you with a steady hand a sweet smile.
"cmon just...please?"
"no. tell me what you want me to do."
you sigh and bite at your lip. "i want you to lay me down and fuck me. right now."
so she laid you down and she did. there were no words to describe how much you enjoyed that night on her couch, the way she could read your body like a book and brought you to ecstasy again and again and again...
and when you wake up a soft blanket is draped over your body, a brekfast of coffee and some crepes set in front of you.
the days after are a whirlwind. discreetly as possible victoria takes you on a tour of new york city, to more expensive restaurants and hidden jewels that most tourists skipped over.
youre lounging in your hotel room when you decide to inform your friends of how your trip is going. while slightly hesitant they seemed more than happy that you were enjoying yourself with someone who took a genuine interest in you.
until you told them her job.
"my love, are you insane? a politician?"
"an american politician?" chloe gasps, continuing off of jamies shock.
"hey, im american too dont forget!"
"of course you are, but please, you understand why this is not good, no?"
"you know how fishy they are, especially with all the supe business going on. that place is getting more dangerous by the day, and i dont think you should be seeing someone whos contirbuting to that."
it pained you to admit it but jamie had a point. the three of you would always laugh in amused horror at how badly things were going on in your birth country, and the politics...it was less than pleasant.
not to mention the supe business. every corner of the world had to deal with the annoyance that was vought and their "products", even france. but so far you'd just had to deal with a few perverted looks from traveling supers and talks of some stupid theme park a few miles out of the city. meanwhile, it seemed like every day a new superhero was being introduced to the American public. it unnerved you.
"i understand. i appreciate both of you looking out for me. trust me, i'll be on my guard for now on." you mumble, picking at the material of your sleeve.
"of course, songbird. we'll call again soon."
the call ends and drop your phone on the nightstand. you look at the eiffel tower cutout in your phone case and your heart aches.
the next morning you're eating a a breakfast of coffee and fruit crepes when your phone rings, dragging your atttention away from the trashy dating show you were watching on the bedroom's tv. when you see nancy's name you hesitantly answer the call.
"nance? is everything alright?"
"everything is great. i'm just here to check in about your next gig."
"my next- nance, im on vacation. please tell you didnt forget and booked me for a job when im across the ocean."
"no, im not that stupid, hon." she sighs. "i didnt even arrange this job, victoria did. im just the messenger."
you blink once. then twice. you remember vic saying something about helping you with a job but you honestly just thought that was bullshit to get her to come stay with you.
(or get in your pants. but you don’t think you’d be too upset about that now.)
“ok. thank you, nancy. tell me the details.”
it’s a lot more extravagant than you expected. victorias friend, an actual senator, was holding a fundraising event for some government program he and vic were both involved in. nancy wasn’t told what the program was, but that you would have to go through a security debrief before being told you'd be given a team to help you prepare. and picking from a selected closet of dresses. fun.
you ignore the feeling of nervousness that’s building up in your gut. because while all of your gigs were important, they were never this important. you push it down as you call victoria and thank her endlessly, when you tell your friends the minimum amount that you can tell them, and when victoria picks you up from outside your hotel twelve hours before the event even starts.
she pressed a small kiss to your hand, laughing at the grumpy and tired mumble you let out when you sit in the car seat. it only passes once she gives you a coffee she picked up, the caffeine waking you up and putting a smile on your face.
the content feeling turns into shock when you enter victorias' place and see zoe, vic throwing a short explanation of “busy babysitter” over her shoulder as she heads into the kitchen.
its a bit awkward at first, sitting on one couch as she plays on a black nintendo switch on the other. it helps when you ask her about whatever she’s playing, the girl diving into a rant about the farm game she’s playing and how she’s trying to catch a certain type of fish.
victoria comes back with a tray of breakfast for the three of you before asking her daughter how school is going, how her friends are, etc. its nice to get a glimpse into victories private life during the morning, the close bond she has with her daughter. you notice some tension but decide not to bring it up.
the morning goes by too quickly, zoe being picked up to be dropped off at a friend's house after giving you a sweet goodbye and you getting rushed upstairs as the team comes to the townhome to help you prepare. its a nice change, having other people doll you up instead of having to worry about trying to do everything correctly and by yourself. and its a perk you don't have to spend your own money to do it.
the team members are nice but punctual, finishing your hair and makeup in record time with not a second wasted. you barely get time to notice yourself in the mirror before you're ushered into a gorgeous gown, soft fabrics and a chic and elegant style.
when your finished you’re finally allowed to observe yourself while your transportation and is prepared, and it feels like you’re looking at a dream version of yourself.
as you admire yourself in the mirror vic comes up next to you, clearly enjoying herself as her eyes slowly drift up and down your body.
“you look…ethereal.” she whispers, pressing a small kiss to your cheek after you turn to smile at her.
“only because of you. i don’t know how i could ever make this up to you, vic. this is just…”
“trust me, you’ve already done enough.”
while you knew there would be some press at the event, you didn't expect over two dozen paparazzi to quickly start flashing their cameras in your direction as soon as you got out of your ride. questions about who you were wearing, the relationship you had with vic, etcetera etcetera. you would've buckled from the sudden pressure if it weren't for victoria’s steady hand on your waist, the press of her arm through her red pantsuit.
the venue is downright insane, so grand you start to wonder if you're in one of those gilded age mansions you used to read about in new york magazines. climbing pillars and art on the ceiling of the main hall, which you don't get to admire since you’re yet again whisked away to get ready.
after a few more touch ups you aren’t afforded a minute to prepare, guided to the edge of the performance area. the sinking feeling is back in your stomach. the biggest moment of your life and you feel like you’re going to be sick.
the lights dim and you glide onto the stage, able to see the shadows of the guests faces from the flickering table lights. it’s eerie, the amount of them staring up at you with eyes you can’t even see.
you were given a set list a few days prior, only a couple of songs for the payment you would apparently receive after this. the songs piqued your interest, a collection of classical melancholic pieces from around the fifties. vic told you her friend was a vintage nut, but you didn't know why he chose these for you to perform when the event seemed to have an uplifting aura.
either way it felt…different, singing this time. the spotlight was on you and you’ve never felt as beautiful as you did in this moment. everyone was watching you, so hooked on the melodies escaping your body that you could see the emotions brining some people to the edge of their seats.
you don’t let it show but you grow a bit anxious at the sight of supers in their uniforms in the crowd. you don’t see anyone from the seven, but you do notice a woman you recognized from some commercial about climate change and earth preservation, the green of her dress and the nature motifs in her outfit give you a clue as to what her power was.
just when you feel yourself about to slip, dangerously close to hitting a note at a weird pitch, you see victoria, getting deja vu at the sight of her staring at you from the bar like the first night you met. she's looking at you like she's never doubted you for a second, like you're an angel sent from above that's blessed her life.
you hold her gaze when you sing. noticing the soft smile on her face when you sing a lyric about how the feelings in your heart feel so intense you fear you're going insane.
when the first song ends the lights come back on and you're met with a polite yet thunderous applause, the smile on your face so wide your cheeks start to hurt. the presenter comes back on stage, praising your performance with a swipe at his eyes before telling the guests that the host would be on shortly, and after he gives a short speech you'd be back to sing some more. with a gentle nod and wave, you step off the stage.
you feel like you're walking on air, with no doubt that was one of your best performances yet. your emotions got a little intense there but nothing you couldn't manage, and everyone seemed to like it anyway.
you're able to send a quick text and a picture to jamie and chloe before you hear the sound of the door to your quaint dressing room open, not able to turn around before you feel hands around your waist and plush lips on the side of your neck, the sight of victoria wrapped around you in the mirror making butterflies swarm in your stomach.
"i take it you liked my singing?"
"like doesn't even begin to cover it," she mumbles into your neck, raising her head slightly to be able to hold eye contact through the mirror. "i'm so lucky i found you, y'know that?"
you playfully brush her off, telling her you have to freshen up for some mingling before you get back on stage. she gladly helps you with your makeup, and while you weren't expecting her to be so touchy tonight you definitely aren't complaining, especially when her hand starts to drift closer to the space between your legs. it takes an embarrassing amount of mental strength to deny her, promising you'll continue once you go back to her place.
once you're finished getting ready she leads you back out to the hall, introducing you to numerous business people, politicians, celebrities, etc. you try not to fangirl when you meet a singer whose songs you've been obsessed with lately and when she asks you to perform at her cousins wedding. victoria just smirks when she leads you away and you let out a tiny squeal under your breath.
once the networking is done you're able to take the time to sit down and eat some of the catered food, almost moaning at the tastes of the food. you sometimes forget just how good food could be in the states, and these rich people pulled out all the stops. you try not to eat too quickly or impolitely as victoria talks with her tablemates, some people from her job apparently. after the first introductions and praises they gave you you mentally tapped out of the situation. she luckily covers for you when they question your mood, laughing when she tells them you've had a long day of being treated like a singing barbie doll.
everyone in the room quiets down when the hos taakes the stage and starts his speech. he introduces himself as robert stendham, and you feel a little embarrassed that this man gave you the chance to sing here and you didn't even know his name. you're thinking about how odd it is that you weren't introduced before this when he mentions something about the program and you perk up.
"...extend a personal thank you to general jameson for finding the time to escape his duties to fly in and be here with us tonight, and a special thanks to director neuman for helping me with this project and finding the beautifully talented y/n to perform for us tonight."
there was a brief few seconds of applause, victoria looking around and giving out smiles while you wondered what the hell she was the director of.
"as you can see, we have a few supers with us tonight. people like hazelwood, whose efforts against climate change have lead to over a dozen organizations plating millions of trees and clearing millions of pounds of trash for the ocean. because that's what supers are supposed to do-protect us. not act like degenerates who get to do what they want because of their abilities."
your eyebrow twitches, sensing the slight anti-supe propaganda from the end of his speech. well, not anti every supe, just the ones who act like gods among men, which you could understand. but you still felt an uneasy feeling rising in your stomach. you feel vic's palm rest over the top of your hand under the table.
"which is why im incredibly honored that director and congresswoman neuman has extended a hand to me to invest in the federal bureau of superhuman affairs, and to further extend that hand to you to help participate in this monumental institution..."
everything is a fog and your brain taps out once he starts talking about what this burerua does, how they closely monitor supes and jail the ones who've caused public harm. your head feels hot and your chest feels cold, and you can't stop your body from going on auto-pilot and excusing yourself to the bathroom before finding some balcony on the higher floor.
the cold air of new york shocks your body back into normalcy, but the pounding in your head persists. it feels like a panic attack ut so much worse, like your fight or flight has been activated without anything even happening. had you rushed into all of this? chasing a girl and a dream like you were a teenager again?
yet again the door opens behind you and someone comes to stand next to you, able to tell who it is by the scent of brown sugar and the glimpse of dark hair blowing with the slight breeze.
"you alright? mr. brandon from the tech startup was asking about you, tried to make me invest in some room light plant grower hybrid-"
"why did you bring me here?"
you cut her off and the air is quiet, save for the sounds of cars and the city and the wind. it's weird, standing in a tense silence like this with her.
"how are you feeling?" she whispers .
"are you- " you turn, nearly giving yourself whiplash with the speed at which you turn to look at her. the look on her face, like she's just observing you and how you're reacting. it only upsets you more. "are you being serious?"
"yes, i am. tell me."
"no, answer my question first. why are you avoiding it?"
she sighs, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face before reaching to grab your hand, which you hesitantly let her hold.
"as you heard, im part of a buereau that monitors supherhumans, keeping track of them, making sure they cant use their powers for harm. so far we've only had to deal with supes here in the states. until one day, this couple comes in that believe their daughter has used her powers on them."
she reaches for something in her pocket and your grip tightens. she pulls out a polaroid and holds the picture up for you to see. you feel like you're going to vomit when you see you, smiling, standing with your parents in a backyard.
"what...what is this? how'd you get this?"
"the couple gave me this picture, and told me how weird the least few years have been. friends and family asking where their daughter went, how she was doing, a daughter they didnt even remeber having."
you bring a hand up to your head, hopelessly trying to dissipate the splitting headache that's forming.
"but then they said the memories started coming back. glimpses of a child running in the grass, birthday parties, graduations, talent shows-"
"stop, please just stop." you gasp, hunching over as good as you can with the restrictions of your gown. it doesn't even feel like the world is just spinning, it feels like its being played in some celestial game of pool. "so what, you're saying...you're saying i did that? to my parents?"
"yes," she reaches for the side of your face, guiding you to look up at her. "and you can do so much more. you already have."
this can't be happening.
"why do you think people react so emotionally to your singing? you think its just because you're amazing? that's not even half of it."
your breathing is picking up again.
flashes of memories start appearing in your vision. so many happy times with your parents that you forgot, friends that you left behind. how your parents didn't support your half-thought-out plan to become a singer, how you made them forget. made yourself forget.
"i don't want you to think i did all of this just for what i want. i didn't. i care about you, and i want you to help me. but you need to trust me."
the blood is rushing back and from your head, and you think about how weird her eyes look against the backdrop of the city before you pass out.
Tumblr media
finally. FINALLY. ong i wrote like 1k in the past day because i said just get this shit over with but its done! 5 months later! hope you enjoyed :)
473 notes · View notes
zooone · 1 year ago
Text
as above, so below
╰┈➤ a grumpy grim reaper falls in love with an optimistic angel.
one sided hatred to lovers; grim reaper!wilbur x angel!reader
Tumblr media
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - here it is, my magnum opus. even tho its not done! i had to split this fic in half, so unfortunately there will have to be a part two :( very sorry. but on a lighter note, HUGE HUGEEE thank you to @harbingerofheartbreak. as per usual, she helped me visualized the entire thing and even made some of the plots and ideas that i used. in fact, the original fic was supposed to be a grim reaper x human, but it was florence who thought of the grim reaper x angel prompt and i could not thank her enough. furthermore, she helped keep this fic going and constantly pushed me beyond my limits to do so. the fic was started july 21st and it was supposed to be shelved after a couple weeks, but she made me keep going. she is the best forever and ever go read ynaf. additionally, another big thanks to @starsyoubreaklikesugardust for being another little beta reader for this fic. she always has the greatest ideas known to man and i wanted to run everything by her bcuz it was like having van gogh rate my painting. i had to share this with her earlier than i thought cuz she was threatening me but we dont have to talk about that smile. both of these people helped me so much, and i will forever be in debt to them.
all in all, please please enjoy and give this your love pretty please &lt;3
hi! message from about a year later (since i still get notes from this) but i do not support wilbur soot at all, and do not write for him anymore. so part two of this fic is discontinued. :( thank u for all the luv from this fic
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of death, religious aspects, and swearing
Tumblr media
she had a lot of questions about wilbur.
not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "on a scale of one to ten, how much does being a murderer really affect your mood?"
all of these questions would go unanswered. including "what's your favorite band?" no matter what, she just could not crack the code of wilbur soot.
to say he was intricate would be an understatement, and her ongoing curiosity would surely be the death of her.
unless he had something to do about it.
-
he stomped away from her on the rooftop as she followed after him.
"i told you to leave me alone," wilbur grunted, trying to speed walk past her with his long scythe trailing behind him. "is that so difficult to understand?"
"i just- i just wanna talk-" she panted, trying to catch up to him. her white dress flowed beneath her, but wilbur tried not to think about it too much.
"no." he made a sharp turn to fully face her, making her nearly bump into him.
her frown was illuminated by her golden halo, making her hair look almost cloud-like. her eyes glimmered like the entire sun was like a clown nose on her face, despite them arguing in the cold of night.
she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. her halo also lit his face up, and she saw the permanent frown and scrunched up eyebrows under his dark hood.
"why not, wilbur?"
he looked at her like she asked if the moon was real.
"you ruined my job. again." he punctuated his sentence with her name, saying it like he was curling at the nasty taste of it.
he always hated her. there was no mistaking it. he hated the way she giggled and danced around just because she could. he hated the way she spoke, always sounding so bright and happy and fucking naive. he hated her big white wings and her shiny halo.
"there you go talking about your job! like its all that matters to you," she yelled over the continuous honking cars beneath them. "do you even care about anything else in life?"
they weren't even supposed to interact, her being an angel and him being the prince of death. but he was always out doing his grim reaper duties, and she couldn't help but stop him.
he just wanted to follow orders from mumza- the queen of death. every single day that he existed, he had to take the lives of those who were ready. it ate him alive, but it was his only purpose.
"i can't care about everything else in life if i have to care about everything else in death," he grumbled under his breath, making her go silent. he liked her silence, loved it even, because that meant she couldn't criticize him for everything he did.
he would tell her about how angry the job made him. that if he could just switch spots with his brother, the stork, he would be the happiest being in hell. that he hated being the grim reaper almost as much as she hated him.
but if there was anything he really hated, it was opening up to people. and vice versa.
the last time he remotely opened up to someone, it was his mother, and he barely remembered the conversation. it was all the way back when he was welcome to smile. all he could recall was it being something about love, whatever it meant.
"will you please leave me alone now?" he sighed, rubbing his hand in his eye. he watched her eyes go from their usual large state to becoming droopy. she silently nodded her head.
"sorry. goodbye, mr. grim reaper," and the title tore him to shreds. it angered him, over everything else, that all he would be to her was an evil being.
yet, he watched as she jumped from the rooftop, fluttering her wings until she flew away. as she looked back over at him, he couldn't place the odd feeling left in his stomach. if it was guilt or hatred, he would never know.
he would continue to travel, picking up the souls on his way. she always thought he was lucky for being able to travel wherever he wanted. she always wanted to befriend the humans- in fact, she wanted to befriend everyone, but she found it impossible when she was constantly being held back.
he arrived back to hell's palace, a bag in one hand, and his scythe in the other. his head drooped down, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact with the other demons.
that hope would be short lived, however, as a demon took his shoulder as he walked.
"wilbur!" he spoke cheerfully, as if he wasn't living among lava pools and ash.
"quackity," wilbur responded in the same, monotone voice. it made the demon groan.
"quackity-" he mocked, changing his shape to an exact replica of wilbur's. mimic demons, they were called, and they were able to take form of any other being, even adorning their voice. it came in handy for most demon's entertainment, but it certainly didn't faze wilbur.
he stared into the mimic of his face, hating what stared back at him.
"oh come on. that usually works on people," quackity frowned as he twisted himself back to his natural state. he began poking wilbur with his blackened hands. "just give me a little giggle, wilbur."
"no." he'd said the word so much that it rolled perfectly off his tongue. "and for fucks sake, please put on a shirt."
quackity laughed loudly. "we're in hell, wilbur! its hot as- well, hell down here. don't tell me you haven't thought about walking around shirtless either." he paused, putting his hands on wilbur's dark outfit, "or.. hoodless.."
wilbur glared with an unamused look on his face, shrugging quackity's touch off of him and trying to continue walking along his path. walking away from conversations never worked to end them, yet he still tried it.
it would be the second example today that his tactic never worked, because quackity continued to walk along with him into the palace.
"what's the catch today?" he said it like it was a cheer. "did you get the big numbers? beat your high score yet?"
he would say he could feel his blood boil, but the flames in hell already did that.
"no. i don't keep track," he explained simply, pouring his bag's content into the soul sorter. it went to the fates to decide whether the soul was good or bad. simply enough, the good souls would be transported to heaven and the bad ones would stay. sometimes he imagined them debating over a soul's purity. the sound of screams every time he opened the bag would never become easier to stomach.
"bummer," quackity hummed. "why don't you try to make the job a little fun?"
"because i don't want to, okay?" he raised his voice. this time, quackity caught the memo and stayed quiet, except for a "shit, okay." under his breath.
wilbur walked along the palace's stairs, leaving quackity alone in the lobby without another word. this time, walking away from the situation made it stop. the third time really was the charm.
he set his hood down to his shoulders with a sigh, being able to fully see the gold and red palace for what it was. all of the vibrant and bright colors that quite literally clashed with the flames. it was scary and huge, but it was home to him. it was all he'd really known.
he went up to his room, laying on his bed with a groan. sometimes he wished his bed was quite literally made out of feathers, because his back always ached. tommy always said it was because of his "fucking posture", but wilbur knew he had no room to talk. just the thought of him jumping into a big pile of fluffy feathers made his bones ease a little more.
he would spend the night rolling around in his not-feather bed, having issues with his sleep. it was such a frequent problem for him that it was barely even a problem. just how he existed.
and, meanwhile, she would spend her "night" (in quotations. it never got dark in heaven.) staring up at the sun, wondering what sort of buttons she could've possibly pushed with wilbur to make him hate her. it was a recurring thought, but it kept her up too frequently.
the worst part about waking up was simply that. waking up. wilbur would roll out of bed, fluff up his hair a little bit, put on the same clothes, and be going. he went through the same routine every day and he hated it. but at the same time, if anyone disrupted his routine, he'd be angered.
"wilbur!"
and his routine was ruined.
"morning, tommy," he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. he couldn't be bothered to be angry this early, and definitely not to tommy. "aren't you supposed to be in heaven right now?"
"i'm on break," tommy said in a matter-of-fact tone. he stretched his arms and his wings with a groan, leaving some stray yellowed feathers behind. "delivering babies to peoples' doors is quite the workout."
wilbur barely registered his words, staring idly past tommy. his eyes wandered more on a decoration on a table behind him. he didn't even notice that tommy had continued speaking until he put his hands on his hips and sighed.
"yeah. both mum and dad really like me!" tommy spoke, ruffling his hands through his hair until he realized his goggles were in the way. the mention of phil darkened his mood.
"mum told you to stop calling him 'dad'," wilbur spoke monotone and simple, as usual.
and as usual, tommy groaned at wilbur's monotone voice and simple words, slouching down. "she also told you to stop being so fucking gloomy."
wilbur felt the need to do a lot of things; one- hit tommy with his scythe, two- tell tommy what a privileged asshole he sounded like, and three- do both at the same time. but wilbur had an okay-ish perception of tommy, growing up alongside the boy took a lot. but as annoying as the boy was, he was wilbur's company. even if he would rather swallow his scythe than to admit it aloud.
instead of acting on his mental list of intrusive thoughts, wilbur only sighed. he didn't bother to pick the conversation back up, his eyes wandering to the decoration again. had they always had that there? it looks off-centered.
"well," tommy noticed wilbur's spacing and patted his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs. "good luck today."
wilbur stared blankly through the fringe of sweaty hair on his forehead. inside, he was trying to form whatever a smile was. "thank you, tommy."
he watched as tommy jumped down the stairway, yellow tufts of hair flying with him. he heard a shout from down below, "and don't forget to fix your posture!"
wilbur scoffed in response, sounding more uninterested than he intended to, but ultimately pulling his shoulders back. a new day! a new window of opportunity! is what wilbur would think, if he wasn't wilbur.
he grabbed the railing of the stairway, his pale thin hand contrasting with the gold. he stared at his feet the entire time stepping down. he'd already forgotten about "fixing his posture".
he made his way down the lobby, not getting a chance to speak to his mother due to the abundance of demons lined up, trying to tell her that she was making a mistake. it was typical, but it still left bags under her eyes. wilbur only gave her a timid wave as a greeting before exiting through the palace's doors.
he dragged his tacky shoes through the red dirt beneath him, watching as tiny rocks rolled along his feet before stopping. he almost ran head first into the elevator due to how long he kept his gaze down, but luckily he saved himself from the mental embarrassment.
he stepped inside, proving his identity to the machine far more times than he needed to. mimic demons would always try to steal his finger print to use the elevator and get themselves back onto earth, but it was never successful. he had a keycard, just in case the identity proving didn't work. tommy had the same.
as the doors parted and he made a careful step out, he did his daily greeting to the guard (his daily greeting being a casual glare and a furrow of his eyebrows) and used his scythe to poke himself out.
from the surface, it would simply look like a boulder being turned over. but as wilbur stepped onto the grass, he took a moment to breathe. the air on earth was far better than the smoke in hell. he would spend a great deal of time taking a couple deep breaths, appreciating the silence, oh the lovely sound of absolutely nothing-
"wilbur! there you are!"
he almost screamed. instead, he only turned to the source of the way-too-cheerful voice, saying her name in utter disbelief. "what are you doing here?"
he didn't speak as if he were asking a question. he wasn't actually interested in why she was here in the grass with her elegant white dress and her annoyingly wide smile, using her wings to shield herself from the sun, even if they were translucent.
"i was waiting for you!" she squeaked, getting up from her spot in the grass and practically skipping up towards him. she had what looked to be a gardener's nightmare in her hands. "this is for you!"
before he could say another word, she pushed his hood off of his head. she had to use her wings to reach the top of his hair, but she was still able to run her hand through his brown waves. and as she giggled, she placed her makeshift flower crown on his head.
she pushed herself away- still hovering on her wings, and took a long, meaningful look at him. "you look great!"
"i feel disgusting," he said with anger, taking the weeds out of his hair and stuffing them sloppily into his bag. "why did you do that."
she looked at him with a frown, but still tried to make herself sound happy. her halo flickered softly. "it.. it was supposed to be a gift for you."
"yeah? well i hated it," he squinted his gaze down at her, and she could feel herself shrinking the more and more he looked.
she stayed quiet, the halo above her head still flicked on and off. she looked at him with nothing but a frown, lowering herself so that her feet hit the ground.
what she failed to notice was that he unfurrowed his brows ever so slightly upon seeing her upset.
"let me just get going, okay?" he spoke, trying to make his voice a little bit softer but still keeping the agonizing punch in there.
she spoke quieter now. "i have one more thing for you."
wilbur flinched, fully expecting a glitter bomb to come out of her pocket. but to his surprise, it wasn't.
she pulled out a pack of gummy worms, handing it to him with a pitiful smile on her face. he took it, examining it slowly.
"why is it open?" he took another look at it and realized it was almost half empty.
"umm.. i got a little hungry waiting for you," she mumbled, playing with the hem of her dress. "you were taking a little bit long."
"and speaking of which, i've been talking to you for a little bit too long," he retorted, crumpling up the bag of gummy worms in his palm. the sides of the bagging were practically fighting with the cage he made out of his fingers.
he began to walk in the opposite direction, debating in his mind exactly how long it would take to make his way out of the field and to the nearest trash can. she quickly followed behind him, almost tripping on herself in the process.
"hey- i didn't expect a hello from you, but a thank you would at least be nice!" she yelled as he speed-walked away with his grumpy walk and stone shoulders. "i'm talking to you!"
"and i'm not," he grumbled, fiddling to put his hood back onto his head as a way of closing himself off.
"just-" she flapped her wings, trying to be alongside him. "just have some gummy worms, please?"
he glared, slightly squinting from the piercing light of her halo. "maybe later."
"right now."
as much as he didn't want to, he stopped dead in his tracks. his stare was hurtful and his hand clenched onto his scythe. that was the most demanding he'd ever heard of her.
there was a voice in his head telling him to leave, to just let her have the last word and be gone. but he felt like he couldn't move.
"excuse me?" he only said, scrunching his eyebrows up.
"i want you to have them right now," she enunciated her words, crossing her arms and trying to copy his expression. she was fighting her usual bright smile under her pursed lips. "in front of me."
he blinked, almost starstruck. "why?"
she seemed nearly surprised at his one word question, her stern voice softening slightly. "you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself," as she spoke through a pout, he could feel his face warming up, like tiny little punching bags beneath his skin. "i wanna make sure you're eating."
he hated the feeling of his cheeks going warm. he slept in hell, obviously he knew what warmth was. but for some reason it felt even weirder when it was behind his skin. he cleared his throat with a cough.
"this? you think this is healthy?" he held up the crumpled, half-empty bag, speaking with his forceful actions.
she went quiet again, only speaking loud enough for him to hear. "i couldn't afford anything else at the gas station."
the feeling of warmth in his cheeks soon boiled over into anger. "you couldn't afford anything else?" he repeated in disbelief, "you are quite literally an angel! you're invisible to the human eye! it is so easy for you to steal."
"but i don't wanna be a bad person!" she copied his raised voice, standing on her tiptoes as almost a challenge. "i leave money in the cash register for the man. you know, he's really struggling. he could use the money. his name is robert, i think-"
"i don't care!" wilbur screamed, cutting her off completely. she flinched at his voice, feeling overwhelmed tears start to prickle from her eyes. she hid behind her wings, afraid that he might do something drastic.
he felt his shoulders shrink at her reaction, but ultimately grumbled and opened the pack of gummy worms. he hesitated, holding out the candy in front of him.
she opened her eyes from her flinch, and saw him sniffing the gummy worm. a smile spread across her face. "you just.. take a bite out of it."
"i know," he muttered. he was already mad enough that he had to eat it, he didn't want to be instructed on how.
"oh.. okay. i mean- i just kinda assumed that you didn't know because i don't think there are gummy worms in hell. they'd get all sticky and stuff. at least, that's what i've heard. are there really no gummy worms in hell?"
he looked at her with no amusement on his face. she looked right back at him, however, wanting an answer to her long winded question that was somehow said in a singular breath.
"no… no there aren't," he spoke slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. "are there gummy worms in heaven?"
why was he making conversation with her? he should be out collecting souls right now, not talking about stupid little gummy worms with this stupid little angel. he mentally slapped himself in the face, cringing with a shake of his head.
"no, there aren't," she batted her eyelashes like she was trying to think for a moment. "but phil sometimes gives me money for gummy worms. i share it with the others!"
he was barely registering her words, his mind still clouded with the mental boxing match he was having with himself. he was being stupid. not even the mention of phil was able to knock him from his thoughts.
"hey," she waved her hand in his face, acting as the referee and stopping his boxing match. he was almost at a knockout. "you've been making that face for a while. do you not like gummy worms?"
wilbur didn't know how to really respond to the question, having never even tried gummy worms before. he looked back at her. she had her full attention on him, waiting for another answer that he would hopefully not blunder.
"it's.. it's fine."
he definitely blundered.
he ignored it, not ready for a round two fight, and put the gummy worm in his mouth.
she leaned forward. "how is it?"
it was about the best damn thing he's ever had.
"it's.. okay, i guess."
"great!" she jumped- fucking jumped. "im sure you have to be on your way for your very important job-"
he completely forgot about his being the grim reaper, straightening up suddenly with widened eyes and tightening his grip on his scythe. he cursed under his breath, running towards the direction of the city.
"hey, i didn't finish!" she called out, catching up to him once more with flaps of her wings.
"i can't talk. you've already made me late enough," his hood almost fell off in the wind with how quickly he was running. "fuck, mum's gonna be pissed."
she would, in fact, not be pissed. she was always far too busy to even greet wilbur or tommy, and they hadn't done any sort of domestic activity in what felt like an eternity. he tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that she was just busy with being the queen of death, but it was extremely lonely.
there wasn't any time for them to really speak. they were both always busy and family meals were long forgotten. in fact, wilbur had never eaten in front of another person before. the most he'd done was eat some boring, rotten food while sitting on his floor with tommy- and even then, he was only picking at it idly with his fork.
he found comfort in eating alone. there was no one there to judge him or to argue. it was just him, his thoughts, and the literal grayed out food they had in hell. but there was something always so reminiscent about having food with another person, even if it was just something like dessert.
"oh," she sighed, moving her wings idly. she watched as he ran away without another look. her arms swung at her sides in an almost confused fashion. "okay. um- hope you like your gummy worms! bye wilbur!"
at least she didn't call him mr. grim reaper again.
he didn't care, anyway, just trying to get to work on the job he obviously hated. but when he stopped to catch his breath, he couldn't help but stare at the pack of gummy worms in his sweaty palms, the colorful designs contrasting his dull looking hand.
he looked around. it looked like there were no cheerful angels in sight, so he figured himself to be safe. he popped another gummy worm into his mouth, scrunching his nose at the taste of something so impossibly sweet. it was a pleasant change from the tasteless foods in hell, and the addictive sweetness coated his tongue for a while.
he stuffed the rest of the pack into his bag, appreciating how empty it was without the souls inside it- a temporary feeling.
wilbur already felt like he'd wasted enough time, and got to work. bringing people to death's door wasn't exactly the easiest job.
he started with a car crash, wincing at the amount of shattered glass and blood everywhere. he fell sick to his stomach with a nasty feeling bubbling up in his throat. all those years dealing with death and it still never got easier to see the causes.
he held his scythe up slowly, shutting his eyes in a flinch. he thought of a thousand things all at once, trying to focus on one. they have to die. i have to put them out of their misery. they're dying because they have to, not because i chose to.
he took a breath, feeling like needles were going up his nose and into his lungs, and swung the weapon down.
it sunk through the person's body without struggle, opening up a passageway for him. he removed his scythe carefully, as if it would hurt them.
he sat on his knees next to the car. although his body was phantom-like against the gravel, he could still feel the roughness under him.
he held a cold hand to the person's back, trying to ignore how it looked to see the life drain from under their eyelids and filter out onto his palm. as soon as he could no longer feel a nauseating pull on his hand, he lifted it gently. he watched as the soul threaded directly off the person, catching onto his fingertips.
he didn't bother to take a closer look at it. the last thing he wanted was to remind himself that these people were actually human. he only took it in his palms, mushing it until it turned into a small circular shape. he put it in his bag, not caring to look at what else was in it.
wilbur would continue to follow through with that sequence throughout the day, as he usually did. scythe, hand, soul, bag. when he was growing up, mumza told him that he would be used to it in no time. but as "no time" passed, he still felt like throwing up after each day.
he made his way down the elevator, his shoulders stinging with the weight of his bag. the souls were practically weightless, but gathering so many into his bag made it sag down. he held his scythe with two hands, his arms being too sore to function properly on their own.
tommy was waiting for him at the steps of the palace, ignoring everyone lined up at the doors. his elbow was on his knee, and his face was being held up in his palm. he had been playing with a stone, trying to break it with his fingertips.
"wilbur," he automatically sprung up upon seeing his brother. he used to go in for hugs, however stopped shortly after wilbur started discussing how much he hated them. "mum wants to see you. says its important."
wilbur took time to react to his words, feeling like his bones weren't his. he only hummed an, "oh. okay," as he made his way up the steps, his feet barely dragging behind him.
"wait-" tommy called out, making wilbur almost freeze on cue. "i was.. i was wondering if you wanted to hang out by the fountain.. of wishes. the one up there. like- like we used to..?"
wilbur's breath stalled, stopping in his lungs. he'd barely even remembered it, but was holding back a smile at the memory.
that smile became easy to suppress as it slowly disappeared. he remembered all of it.
"mum doesn't want us talking to phil," was all wilbur muttered. he finally took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a sigh. "sorry."
"its not like that anymore!" tommy tried, throwing his hands up in the air in an almost child-like fashion. "they've changed, phil especially! i talked to him the other day, and-"
"mum doesn't want us talking to phil, tommy," he enunciated it slower this time. watching tommy's shoulders shrink, a sinking grayness fell over his face like a cloud was above him.
"yeah. okay," tommy sighed with a shake of his head. he played with the calloused skin on his fingers. "you're right."
wilbur stood there for a great deal of time. as much as it physically pained him, he felt a trapped sensation in his chest.
"tommy?" he spoke softly, barely enough for the both of them to hear. "you're a good kid."
he left before tommy could respond, expecting the boy to make some stupid remark about how soft he was turning. tommy didn't react that way, however. he stood alone on the steps, taking breaths watching as wilbur walked away.
wilbur made his way past the screaming, impatient people. he was always hateful towards loud noises as they made his skin crawl. he thought maybe that was the reason he hated the angel's voice so much.
there he went again thinking of that stupid angel. if he'd given her any more room in his mind, she'd have to pay the rent.
shaking his head from stupid thoughts, he called his mother's name, gaining her attention.
"wilbur," she spoke softly, her voice too tired from all the demons and ghosts she spoke to. her black hair hung over her face messily, but it was covered by a large lacy hat. "how are you?"
wilbur knew she wasn't actually curious about how he was feeling. it was just a filler for the missing years of his childhood.
"i'm doing well," a lie, "tommy said you wanted to talk to me?"
he saw his mother's face light up, as if she'd just remembered something blatantly obvious. wilbur could imagine her thoughts- "oh, thats my son, i forgot."
she fished for something on a table near her large throne. it looked more shiny than any angel's halo. damn it, why was he thinking about her again?
"here," she handed an envelope to him with her large hand. he hesitated in taking it. "the messenger said it was for you. you don't usually get mail, so i figured it was important."
wilbur stared at the wax seal, the intricate pattern almost painful to stare at for too long. "are you sure this is for me? im not-"
"im so sorry, wilbur," her eyebrows disappeared into the shape of her hat as she put a hand to her black gown. "i have to get going talking to these people," she motioned to the line in front of her. "i also have a super busy day. i have to-"
"its fine, mum," he cut her off just as she did to him. he couldn't feel any remorse for his lack of formality. "you're.. doing great."
he spared himself from the long speech his mother always gave about how busy she was. it was always a drag to hear. tommy said it was her way of indirectly apologizing for not giving him family meals- but wilbur always thought that if he was right, she would directly say it.
in all honesty, however, he missed being able to sit next to someone and eat something.
the black lipstick on her face formed into a smile. "thank you, wilbur," she sighed, her body already facing the demon she was talking to last. "and tell me what the letter is!"
"i will," another lie. he was really great at them because she could barely ever hear them.
as he was going to the soul sorter, he turned the letter over in his hand, squinting at the written address. it read, "hell's palace (if it's real! i've never been there but i've heard about it!) for wilbur!" with a bunch of hearts and smiley faces. wilbur felt himself go sick to the stomach, nearly tripping on himself.
it was probably that stupid angel trying to give him a pity letter that he didn't want. he scowled at the thought as he emptied his bag into the soul sorter.
that dumb little angel, who did she think she was? did she genuinely think that wilbur would soften up to her because of a little letter with hearts all over it?
but as wilbur was coming up with more mean adjectives, items had been rejected from the soul sorter, and fell out.
it was her flower crown and gummy worms.
wilbur felt his angered expression slowly fade away like sand in an hourglass. he stared at the objects on the ground by his feet.
he was reminded of her soft smile as she put the flower crown on his head, her gentle touches to his hair like he was delicate. or how she forced him to eat fucking gummy worms because of his health.
he could feel the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. no, what was he doing? that angel was always so judgemental of him. from the moment they first met, she was always criticizing his job and she was always being rude to him.
but, she still cared about him.
wilbur didn't know how to react to that thought. his stomach felt like it was clawing its way out of him, and that weird, warm feeling came back to his face. he hated it.
he bent over, picking up the flowers and gummy worms. he held them in his hands and under his robe, just in case someone saw him holding them.
he quickly went up the stairs, cutting the corner to his room so that no one saw him. he set the flowers, gummy worms, and letter on his desk, his hands propping him up. he stared, yet again, at the objects until he realized- he hadn't even opened her letter yet.
he took a sharp inhale, his fist pressed so hard against the table that he didn't even register the fact that his hands were shaking. he leaned back, taking the envelope with him.
sure enough, it was from her.
"dear wilbur!
hi! i hope this delivered to the right address. i thought mail would be easier in the afterlife, but it really isn't. i hope you're okay!! i hope you didn't hate the gummy worms too much and that you are taking care of yourself! get plenty of sleep please.
i was writing to ask if you wanted to meet me for ice cream! i asked phil, and he said that ice cream would melt in hell too, so i wanted to have some with you. i can show you all the good flavors and everything.
it would be tomorrow, i've listed the time and address below. i hope to see you there!
ps. you better come with a full eight hours of sleep!"
he read over the letter at least a thousand times, his eyes glazing all over the hearts and smiley faces that she used to punctuate each sentence. he felt like he was going to throw up his ugly, beating heart. he didn't know if he should write back or even show up.
it would be his first time properly eating in front of someone in a while, and the thought made him nervous, almost.
as if to taunt him, tommy burst into the room, the sudden loud noise making wilbur scream. he hid the letter on his desk behind him.
"woah," tommy put his hand up to almost shush wilbur, as if he were some wild tiger. "calm down, man."
"sorry-" wilbur straightened himself up, coughing out of awkwardness. he felt his skin melting off of him, and he wanted something to make the tense air easier. "tommy, can you cover for me tomorrow?"
oh god. was he really that desperate to start a conversation?
tommy's eyebrows disappeared into his golden tufts of hair, a confused look grazing his face. "you want me to what?"
"cover.. for me?" he couldn't even believe the words he was saying. "i have a.. thing tomorrow-" no he didn't. he wasn't gonna go. "and.. i need someone to do my job."
"what thing? its not like you have a.." tommy's words trailed off as he stared at his brother in terror. "do you?"
"do i have a what..?" wilbur spoke with confusion as tommy gawked at him. he stage whispered, as if someone were watching.
"do you have a date?"
wilbur's chest bloomed with an awful sensation, his heartbeat picking up and pounding against his ribs. "what? no, i-" he felt like his mouth was stuffed with tar and feathers. "no, of course not, tommy."
"okay! okay," the boy held his gloved hands up in defense, backing away from a powder keg in the form of his brother. "but, whatever it is, how do i cover for you?"
wilbur dropped his tensed shoulders. "you always talk about how easy my job seems, right?"
"what?" tommy screeched, his gold wings flinching with him. "but- but you're the prince of death and i'm the prince of life! how am i supposed to do that?"
wilbur felt his stomach churn at the comparison. he hated the way people would always say "the prince of death" like it would curse the next seven generations of life. his eyebrows furrowed like caterpillars above his eyes.
"then at least pretend that i'm working," he muttered. "it's gonna be easy. i'm sure mum won't even notice."
tommy's lips shifted as he bit the inside of his cheek. he knew wilbur was right. mumza barely said hi to him too.
"okay," tommy sighed as his shoulders fell in defeat. he pointed a finger at wilbur, "but you owe me big time!"
wilbur nodded in response, shooing tommy away with a flick of his hand. tommy listened (although not shutting the door properly), and left his brother alone in his room. the letter was still hidden behind him.
he sighed, feeling his lungs shrink intensely. he had no clue what to do or how to pull it off.
wilbur went to sleep earlier that night, trying to fulfill her promise to get eight hours of sleep. when he woke up, he could feel his bones almost moving on their own. it felt odd to not have the burden of being the soul taking grim reaper.
he looked at himself in the mirror. he looked nothing short of depressing.
he walked over to his closet, sighing as he was face to face with the same rotten black robes he wore. people always trashed on tommy for owning the same white, red sleeved shirt, but wilbur wasn't any better with his duplicates.
he groaned, his head falling in a near defeat. though, he could see a small glint of yellow. hesitating, he picked it up, taking off his cloak to put it on.
it was a really old sweater that phil got him many years ago. back before everything went down the gutter. he ran his thumb down the frayed material. by some miracle, it still fit him.
he looked at himself in his mirror, scowling when he saw who stared back. he looked nothing like how he usually did, and that slight bit of color changed him. the yellow fabric, even when old, still popped out more than his pale skin did.
still, something felt like it was missing. his glasses, maybe? he set the frames on his scrunched face, pushing it up his nose with the back of his hand. that didn't seem to work.
he looked over at his desk, his bottom lip plumped out as he thought. he gave a long stare to the flower crown, feeling his chest tighten and warm with a disgusting feeling. he picked up the flower crown- more delicately than he'd like to admit, and placed it on his tufts of brown as he stared at his reflection.
his mouth hung open. he looked completely different now. there were so many colors and shapes for him to process. and were the dark spots under his eyes really that prominent?
although, even with the wave of confusion, it felt almost comforting. he tried his best at a smile, but shook his head. too far.
wilbur shuffled through the underworld quickly, trying his best not to be seen- and especially not by quackity.
"tommy," quackity stage whispered, gaining the boy's attention. "what the hell's he doing?"
tommy took his place beside quackity, looking to where he was pointing. he scowled. "dude, i kid you not, he's got a fucking date."
quackity scoffed a laugh before looking at tommy. his face was still scrunched in disapproval, his wings idle behind him. quackity’s expression dropped. “wait- you’re serious? he’s actually got a date?”
“that’s what i’m thinking!” tommy’s voice screeched suddenly. he looked and sounded like a bird. “i’ve never seen him wearing something so.. colorful. and look at his fucking posture!”
they watched in amusement as wilbur jammed his finger on the elevator button, trying to get the doors open as he looked around frantically. he hadn’t even noticed, but his shoulders were in fact more pushed back.
he stared at his reflection in front of him, bringing a hand into his hair to even it out. flowers were still scattered around in his hair and it was as if he were producing a trail of petals behind him. he let out a groan as the doors finally parted, and he stepped in.
“who is it with?” quackity asked, holding his chin. his other hand was dug into his pocket. a small, rectangular figure lining the fabric. “do you know?”
tommy turned to quackity with a serious look on his face, as if he were speaking about a universe killing secret rather than who wilbur was eating ice cream with. “you didn’t hear it from me,” he emphasized his words, “but i keep overhearing this angel talking to phil about wilbur. its weird- especially when you think about how phil and wilbur think about each other.”
tommy grimaced at his own words. he could tell how much it cut the mood. it was practically taboo to say wilbur and phil’s name in the same sentence- let alone even mention phil in the underworld. even with tommy trying to get them to forgive each other, the thought of them ever eating at the same dinner table was unfathomable.
quackity interrupted the tension filled silence by asking the angel’s name. tommy gave it without a second thought, but eventually had to repeat it for quackity to properly hear. they were stood outside the pit of lost souls, a place that the forgotten demons would go. they served no purpose in hell as long as they were somehow remembered by someone on earth. it was always a loud area, having literal burning souls inside.
“huh..” quackity hummed, repeating the angel’s name again. “you think they’ll become a thing?”
“no, definitely not,” tommy huffed, laughing as if quackity was telling a knock-knock joke. “he’s too grumpy to actually function around another being.”
“i say give the guy some slack! he deserves at least a chance," quackity protested. "twenty bucks."
"you're betting on his love life?" tommy asked, but quackity stood still with a smirk on his face with his hand out. "fine. deal."
as they shook on their bet, tommy grumbled, his wings tensing up with him. a plan was forming itself in quackity’s mind, his hand patting the lining of his shorts.
“he’s probably up there making out with her right now.”
wilbur, in fact, was not. he was standing on the distant sidewalk, watching her from afar. she sat on the concrete with her legs crossed, looking like her mind was in another galaxy. wilbur on the other hand, stood with his clammy hands at his sides. his palms never sweat as badly as this, and it was making him unsettled. he tried his best to wipe his hands off on his sleeve, but it only made them damp and warm. he sucked in a breath, ignoring it and walking up towards her.
when he caught her eye, her never-ending smile only widened. she stood up to properly face him, looking at him from the top of his flower-ridden hair down to his shoes. “wilbur?”
“hi.. hi-” his voice cracked, and he tried to cover it up with a fake cough. now his throat wasn’t working. “um, i didn’t know.. i wasn’t sure if.. i-”
“you look really nice!” she interrupted, saving him the embarrassment. he let out a mix of a smile and a relieved sigh, muttering his thanks. “and it looks like you actually slept.”
“i did,” he mumbled, adjusting the collar of his bunchy sweater. suddenly, he could feel every texture touching his body. “eight hours.. just like you asked..”
“it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” she giggled, and the noise stabbed wilbur a thousand times in the stomach.
“actually, it was,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rocking back and forth on his heels with nervousness. “my bed is a literal stone. i wish it were made out of feathers.”
“maybe your dream will come true some time! come on, let’s make a wish,” she tilted her head, closing her eyes and putting her palms together. “i wish wilbur’s bed was made out of feathers!”
“..is that gonna work?” he tilted his head in her direction.
“hm.. i don’t know. but i always like to try it,” she hummed with satisfaction, putting her hands back at her sides. “can i tell you a secret? i’ve always wanted to visit the fountain of wishes.”
the name rung a bell all the way in the back of wilbur’s mind. he remembered his father telling him stories every night about the fountain of wishes. he scowled at the thought of hin. phil would tell wilbur that his only wish was to meet a beautiful woman, but look where that got him.
“what would you wish for?” he asked, trying to shift the gears of his mind.
“i don’t know,” she said, contently, leaning forward to grab his hand. “maybe i’ll think of something later.”
wilbur flinched, something she didn’t see because she was dragging him into the store. he wondered if she could feel how damp and warm his palms were, but it looked like she didn’t mind. for some reason, their hands seemed to magically fit together like puzzle pieces.
his mind was churning again, thinking about the unknown feeling running through him. he felt suddenly aware of everything around him, and it was awful. yet, she kept giggling and smiling like it was just another day. he envied her power of optimism, even if it was the same thing he disliked about her.
uncomfortably, his mind felt as if he was put in a room of a thousand people, contributing and understanding each one of their conversations. as overwhelming as it was, it was how his brain regularly worked. how he somehow managed to get even an ounce of sleep every night, he'll never know.
his thoughts were unraveling before he could roll them back up, feeling tired of aimlessly following the long film of this and that and-
"do you have a favorite flavor?"
it all snapped away.
"uh- um, well, um-"
how was she able to do that?
"oh, right," she giggled. somehow, in the thousand person room that took place in his mind, her small laugh was the only thing bouncing off his skull. "you've never had ice cream before."
unable to process the sudden quiet of his mind, he simply shook his head. "n-no, i haven't."
"try this!" she held out a scoop of her favorite flavor and wilbur stared at it like it was a cure to the common cold.
shakily, he took it. even if it only existed as a transparent-phantom thing, he was surprised that it didn't slip out of his sweaty hands.
"do.. do i bite-"
"just give it a small lick. i know it'll be cold, but it'll taste good," her words felt like a small promise to him, the most comforting thing he'd heard in a while. yet, it was like talking about the weather to her.
god, what was the feeling? he couldn't exactly pinpoint it at all.
he followed her directions, scrunching his brows in a slight concern as he stuck his tongue out. she was right, it was cold. terribly cold. he thought his tongue would get stuck to it like in the old christmas movies tommy forced him to watch.
and yet, it tasted terribly good. it was such an unfamiliar feeling on his tongue, but it somehow had a certain kick that he enjoyed.
he smacked his lips a couple times, and nodded slightly, mumbling his words. "y-yeah, i like that one."
"great!" she spoke, going over to grab the ice cream scooper. the real thing stood still on the table, but the translucent version was in her hands as she scooped up some of the flavor. as long as she put it back in the right place, nothing would be messed up too badly.
as she finished up scooping her cone, she sighed dramatically. "oh gods, i forgot to get cash."
"you don't need to give him cash, angel, he won't even notice."
his tongue went numb- not from the ice cream, but from the small nickname he'd given her.
it was a small gesture, and he could probably play it off, but it stirred his intestines until he felt like throwing them up. he'd never willingly give someone a nickname. ever.
and the worst part? she noticed.
"did you call me angel?" she stopped her fit of panic over invisible cash to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in an asymmetrical smile.
"well- yeah, because you're.. you're an angel," wilbur stumbled, unable to pull something out of thin air. he's lied many times. to his mom, to tommy, to quackity. but for some reason lying to her didn't feel right on his tongue. "a-and you.. have a halo.. and stuff.."
she noticed how he fiddled with his fingers, and decided to spare him of the embarrassment by switching the topic to her day. she seemed passionate with talking about every small thing she'd done, and wilbur admired her attitude.
wilbur prided himself in his writing. his pen and paper were like a magical escape from his burdens. he had a specific way with words that would always get him praised by his parents when he was younger. but despite that, he was completely lost on a word to describe his feelings.
she dragged him back outside without a care in the world, looking around like she owned the place. she pointed to a bench, talking about how it was her favorite bench (to which wilbur began to wonder how one could have a favorite bench), and began guiding them towards it.
in the midst of her excitement, however, she made a wrong step on the curb and yelped. wilbur noticed this quickly, bringing a quick hand to her waist to catch her.
"woah, are you alright-?" he brought her back up carefully, checking to make sure that her and her ice cream were still intact. he checked both off in his mind.
"yeah- yeah i'm fine-" she muttered, and it was the first time he'd ever seen a glint of gloominess on her face. "sorry- that was embarrassing-"
"no need to be embarrassed," wilbur's tone was calm. not a monotone calm, but an assuring calm. one that was stranger to her too.
his hand remained still on her waist, his fingers trembling in such small beats. “wilbur?” her gaze slowly met his, and she could see a small droplet of worry beneath the pools of his irises. “can i tell you something?”
he nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowing in such a concerned manner that it almost cut his forehead in half. with his hand still on her waist, he guided her carefully to the bench.
she looked at the pavement, her words coming out in a string of small mumbles that made him feel like they were the only two beings ever. just him, an angel, and a bench. “i don’t.. i don’t usually tell people this,” she fiddled with the hem of her dress, her wings draping over the back of the bench. “but.. the- the way i-i d..”
wilbur stared at the angel- the carefree, optimistic, happy angel; while she broke down bit by bit. he felt like he was almost breaking the law, that he wasn’t allowed to see such a sight. but most importantly, he felt like he needed to help.
he was always gentle, there was no denying it. he spent a lot of time as a child examining bugs (which he called “friends”) and making sure they were okay. and the urge to care for anything in need grew with him, even as everything else changed.
he noticed that his hand was still on her hip, and he drew her closer to his body. the small gesture made her startled, but she quickly grew accustomed to his touch. she felt safe, and wilbur knew that.
she took a deep breath, and spoke. “we were playing a game of hide-and-seek,” she whispered, “i-i was always clumsy, everyone made fun of me.. nobody..”
her words trailed off again, and wilbur felt his heart aching. “nobody..?”
“nobody really.. liked.. me,” she huffed, her face turning away from him. he could tell that she didn’t speak about this much. “everyone hated me, actually. like you do..”
his heart was wrapped in thorns.
it was the clearest thing she’d said. like she had so much time to think about it and deduct it. he wanted to say something, wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream at her. but he didn’t. he couldn’t- he felt paralyzed.
“i guess i tripped and fell or something, a-and i-” a bile swelled her throat. “it hurt. a lot. i was- i was screaming and crying for help b-but everyone ignored me. except for..”
her head lifted as she looked at him. it was the type of look in which he could study each pigment on her face, and he’d be able to use the rosiness of her cheeks to paint a breathtaking portrait.
“except for you.”
she smiled. and even through tears, her expression lit up the earth.
“me?” he whispered softly.
immediately, she nodded. she was so close to his face that she could see a tiny cut to the right of his adam’s apple. she suppressed a giggle as she thought about him struggling to shave, making all sorts of faces into his mirror.
“i was so scared and alone.. and then you came along with your big scythe and your scary hood. and you plunged your scythe into me chest- gods, i was so scared,” she giggled briefly at the thought, but her expression was genuine. “but you gave me peace.”
she leaned closer, wanting to wrap her arms around him and die a second time like that. but she knew he’d hate it.
“it was all i wanted in that moment.”
his eyes were droopy, staring from her left eye, to her right, and down at her parted lips. she was nothing short of beautiful. looking at her for that long felt like a mere privilege, forcing him to be speechless.. he squeezed her hip tighter just to hold her.
“i.. i wanted to thank you..” she whispered, so quiet that her vocal chords barely buzzed.
in his peripheral vision, he noticed how her eyelids fluttered softly. his sight blurred as she leaned in closer, and-
“but you always hated me.”
she leaned back in the seat, and wilbur’s disappointment split him in two. she was right there- right fucking there, but she was so out of reach. the only barrier? his own loathing. the irony of hating his hatred felt like a stab wound to his thorn-crowned heart.
and the worst part; she was unphased.
wilbur gulped as a stack of words piled themselves in his throat. that nasty, overwhelming feeling running through him again. “angel, i-”
“so, what’s your favorite color?” she asked in a light tone, licking at her ice cream.
a wave of dismay washed over his face. he couldn’t think. “t-teal?”
“really? i wouldn’t have guessed that,” she swung her legs beneath the bench, clearly unbothered by wilbur’s confusion. “you don’t really dress like a teal-lover. do you think the moon is real?"
what?
"no, bad question. hmm. what’s your favorite band?”
his heart fell into the pit of his stomach, thorns poking at his sides creating a terrible sting on his abdomen. he opened his mouth to speak- maybe cry and release his feelings; but nothing came up. not even an answer to her stupid question. it was nauseating.
she began talking about the sort of music she liked, but none of it struck his brain. he felt sick. he wanted to scream and sob and punch something. but he sat still like he was posing for a renaissance painting.
“hey, that reminds me,” she stood up abruptly, pointing her finger upwards, despite going unnoticed by wilbur. “i gotta get cash for the ice cream man! i’ll be right back.”
he didn’t even realize she spoke, even when she was repeating his name and trying to get his attention.
why was he disappointed at the lost opportunity? why did he want to curl up in a ball and tug his hair out? what was that stupid feeling that was haunting him all afternoon? it was tearing him apart limb by limb. what was the word, what was-
oh.
oh.
it was love. he loved her. it was as simple as a four letter word.
the last time he told someone he loved them, he was begging his father not to leave. as he watched the man- the god- his father walk away, he realized that the word meant nothing. it only brought him pain; and if he didn't love, he didn't have to feel that agony.
his stomach turned, breathing becoming alarmingly shallow. too many memories flushed his mind, and his throat tightened.
"hello? wilbur?"
"don't come back." he stood up suddenly, ice cream falling to the ground next to him.
"what?" she flinched, staring up at him with terror on her face that he didn't even read. he was so blinded by his anger. the light of her halo flickered.
"i said, don't come back." it was almost a subconscious thing, how he lifted his hand into his hair and threw the flower crown onto the sidewalk. right next to his ice cream.
his throat burned harshly. all of his muscles tensed up in such a way that definitely wasn't healthy. he could barely even hear his own words through the pounding in his ears, and he most importantly couldn't hear her heart ripping in two.
"wilbur-"
"stop. stop this. stop following me everywhere, stop- stop acting like you care-" his hands balled up into fists at his sides, "stop everything! i never want to see you again!"
and that was all that was needed for her to turn around and fly off, and that was all that he needed for him to realize what a complete moron he was.
his walk home was nothing short of shameful. and this time he walked through hell with messy flower petals in his hair and a stupid yellow sweater and dumb tears in his eyes.
he didn't realize that quackity, a man who was about to lose twenty dollars, was watching him from afar. he cursed under his breath, biting his bottom lip until his hand brushed against his pocket.
tommy's keycard.
-
he looked at himself in the reflection of a lava pool, making all sorts of scrunchy and over dramatic faces. he experimented with the way the hood fell over his hair and how it made his furrowed eyebrows look.
he made his way to the elevator, admiring how the scythe looked when he tossed it around in his hands. and when it asked for a confirmation of identity, he pulled out the keycard, swiping it before anyone could see.
he'd continue to try to do tricks with the scythe until he got to the top, waving a hand to the guard until he realized he had to stay in character. his lips suddenly pursed and his eyes became hooded.
to his delight, an angel was there waiting for him.
"wilbur-" she stood up suddenly, her hands shaking at her sides. the light in her tear filled eyes was nearly gone, the glow of her halo barely there. "i wanted to a-apologize-"
"come with me," he spoke, as monotone as he could. his hand reached out towards her, and she hesitantly took it.
with uncertainty written all over her face, she spoke nervously. "where.. where are we going-?"
"i want to make up for what.. happened.. last night.." he muttered, dragging her underground.
she held her flickering halo carefully as they zoomed to the elevator, watching him jam the buttons with his finger. she'd never seen someone so eager.
as soon as the doors parted, he forced her inside with such an anticipation she couldn't pinpoint. it made her feel uneasy, how weird he had been acting.
"wilbur?" her voice came out as more of a squeak, taking his other hand in hers. she looked right at him with swelled eyelids. "this.. this isn't a trick, is it?"
his eyes widened, eyebrows unknotting a crease on his forehead. "what?" he practically laughed, "why- why would it be a trick?"
"i don't know.. you just seem.." her voice wavered, eye contact faltering. "nevermind, it's stupid."
"look at me, love," the nickname was.. new. "i don't want to hurt you. i'm gonna make everything up, okay?"
she hummed an agreement, eyes fluttering to make contact with his. his face was soft, just like the other night. but something seemed missing.
"i wanna show you everything about my home," the excitement in his voice was almost raw. "i live in a palace, did you know that?"
"i didn't," she smiled, a forced one. "are you gonna show me around?"
at that, the elevator's doors opened, and she was hit with a sudden wave of heat that nearly made her fall over.
and he almost didn't catch her.
tears started to swell up her eyes as she clung onto his arm, nails digging into broken fabric. soft yelps came out of her mouth.
"love, are you alright?" he spoke worriedly, and the amount of emotion in his voice made her even more lightheaded.
"i-i am-" she whispered, getting back onto her feet. "its just- y'know- what.. what i told you last night..?"
he nodded his head, a soft "oh" coming out of his mouth. but it didn't seem like an ounce of actual empathy lied behind his eyes. a tint of red glazed it instead. she felt odd.
did he not remember? or did he choose not to?
when she was able to walk properly, he led her around. if it wasn't for the burning pit in her stomach, she'd be extremely excited. but she had a feeling that something deeper was lying under the lava pools.
"this is the palace," he sighed, gesturing to the building. "isn't it cool?"
"it is.." she muttered. this awe, she could not fake. the large, intricate structures of gold and red and the occasional fire bounced off her glassy eyes. "can we go inside? maybe you can show me your room-"
"i.." he stiffened up suddenly. "i don't think that's a good idea."
"oh.." she muttered, trying to read his firm facial expression. but she couldn't.
a thick silence fell upon them. the only noticeable thing was how her halo flicked on and off with inconsistent beats.
"hey, i have to.. do something.. how about you stay here until i'm finished, okay? maybe you can talk to my mom or.. or talk to the hellhounds," his voice was unconvincing, but she still nodded, even as disappointed as she was.
and she watched him walk away, turning the corner away from her. she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disgust rummaging through her. the constant stares of demons around her didn't make anything better.
her feelings were mixed. maybe he's having a good day or- or maybe he's really considering peace between them.
but what if it really was a trick?
her soft facial expressions fell into her lap, weighing her options. she always sought to find the good in people, always trying and trying to think positive. but even after she revealed everything- everything she couldn't admit out loud, he turned her away. and there was no right explanation for that, no matter how beautiful his palace was.
she straightened up, fists clenched at her sides. she wasn't going to take it. after going through so much of his hatred for so long, she didn't like him practically making fun of her death. she hated it.
she was going to look for him and tell him all of her raw feelings.
as he rounded the corner, his back hit the wall and his knees failed. his breathing was labored as he ran a blackened hand through his changing hair. he could feel the skin literally crawl off of him, and he was delighted to have his normal look back.
quackity sighed against the wall, catching up to his quickened breath. "now all he has to do is find her. and they're forced to make up. and i win my twenty bucks," he muttered under his lips. "god, quackity, you genius."
his laughs felt amazing to churn out. pretending to be wilbur was exhausting him to the core, but it was worth each and every penny of the twenty dollars he'd be receiving soon.
but, through all of his buzzing victory, he didn't notice an angry little angel looking for a certain grim reaper. he didn't notice her stomping around with her fists clenched at her sides.
and he definitely didn't notice her tripping and falling into the pit of lost souls.
-
wilbur's day went on horribly.
he didn't get any sleep. not that this was any different from usual; but this time his night was spent tossing and turning in his stone bed trying to think of how he was going to talk to her.
his bones ached when he got up, and no amount of stretches could heal the knot in his neck.
work was even worse. especially considering the fact that everytime he heard some sort of high pitched noise, he'd think it was a little angel fluttering her wings at him, and then he'd be able say the speech he had written up in his mind.
he was regretting his word choice of "i never want to see you again" on top of his regret for the rest of his blown out word vomit.
but as he walked from the elevator to his palace, he couldn't help but hear a sort of cry for help. and it sounded oddly similar to the angel's.
"wilbur? w-wilbur.. i know- i know you hate me but this- this hurts -"
was it?
"its not fffunny anymore- i know you got your kick out of tricking- me- but this is- ow!"
it couldn't be.
"i won't bother you again! i promise! just please- let- let me out of here- help me.. please..? it's- it's -"
he'd been hearing her voice in his head all day in somewhat intervals. but this felt more real, more raw.
he stumbled on his feet. he knew where it was coming from. he heard noises of desperate cries from it everyday, but the thought that this might be real? it scared him to his core.
worry rushed over him quicker than second thought, and he rushed over to the pit of lost souls in a panic. hoarse, raspy screams of "angel!" flew out of his throat as he scrambled to climb the volcano-like structure.
-
she still had a lot of questions for wilbur.
not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "wilbur? hello? please help- this hurts- are you still there?"
and she was starting to lose hope in the fact that those questions might be answered.
one things for sure; her curiosity will be the death of her.
unless he's got the courage to do something about it.
Tumblr media
11.4k || 8.12.23 || masterlist here!
taglist (dm or send an ask to be added!) — @sixofshadowandbone @theoneandonlyyeti @harbingerofheartbreak @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @mcr-pr-fob @sapphic-soot @flynn-thebin @puppyburbites @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @merakiaes @aimi-chann @axthrial @lololol00 @deadphantomsociety @hometown-smile @qweengigi @kisstheskin
in case you did not read the beginning (its a long wall of text i understand 🙂‍↕️), i do not write for wilbur soot anymore and do not condone or support any of his actions. therefore, part two will not be coming :(
1K notes · View notes
anxiouseldergod · 3 months ago
Text
An au set long, long ago in Twisted Wonderland..
Back when laws surrounding magic were more restrictive, when mages were seen as dangerous and untrustworthy. Long before any schools like Night Raven College ever existed.
Imagine being a witch, living deep in the woods, running an unknown little bookshop in the front of your house.
You've gotten many questions on why you would set up shop there, usually by the confused adventurer or slightly suspicious knight. You always answer the same. You like how quiet it is, book shops aren't supposed to be loud you know.
Yes, a cute little store nestled in the middle of a dark patch of forest. That's all. Or that's how it seems, anyway.
There's a door on the back wall, in a gap between two large shelves, overflowing with books, mostly on magic. (What? Magic is only illegal to perform, not read about.)
Several customers have gotten curious about this door before. It's normally locked, but the one time it wasn't, one managed to open it.
... Just for it to be a boring, dusty, storage closet. They should have expected that, really, what else would it be?
They close the door, walking away with their curiosity satisfied but still feeling disappointed.
They day goes by and eventually its closing time. You lock the entrance, keys jingling as you put them away.
You approach the door in the back, sighing in relief that your spell had worked. Though, it always does.
You open the door once more, the room behind has disappeared.
Instead of a dingy storage closet, the door leads into the back of your shop.
Yes, this area is your favorite. This is your magic shop.
It's much more spacious here than your little bookstore in the front. Large shelves line the walls, packed to the brim with shiny or glowing crystals, sparkling potions, ancient grimoires, and other various magical items and materials.
Due to the laws banning the practice of magic without official permission, which is impressively difficult to get, you have gone to great lengths to conceal this place.
Spells to hide it from prying eyes, spells to make the building appear smaller than it is from the outside, even more work to hide the magic energy within.
Setting up in the middle of the forest is yet another way to keep your secrets. A magical forest, to be precise.
The magic energy in this forest runs thick, making it the perfect places to gather most of your materials.
However, it also means there are a great number more monsters in this area, as they flock to the magical energy. Because of this, most of your customers are adventurers, this is good.
Most adventurers have broken their fair share of laws too, so if they were to think about ratting you out, they usually think again.
Though, sometimes, you get a customer who doesn't wear the same confused look as those passersby. Someone who knows exactly what they're here for, and it isn't anything in the front of your shop.
Whether pointed your way by your friends in the cities nearby, or having heard about you through other means, they all ask the same question;
"Is this The Moon's Alcove?"
You always when they say that. It's the name of your shop, your magic shop specifically. But it's also a secret code, one passed along through the underground network of magic users, like yourself.
You can't help but get excited, everytime someone says it you know you're getting a new customer. Yours are always so terribly interesting.
Tumblr media
First piece of writing posted, yay! Sorry for any grammar errors, I tried to fix them all but it's late and I'm not confident I didn't miss any lol
My idea for this au is the customers are the twst boys! Feel free to send requests/musings/thoughts on what you think their roles could be or how their first meetings with the reader would go!!
I came up with this au idea a while ago and if I don't expand on it I might explode
196 notes · View notes
meanbossart · 1 month ago
Note
So I’ve just completed ANE and I have so many questions! First of all, I love these characters and you’ve written them so well, thank you for sharing your talents with the world. I’m so excited for the next installment!!
Now for the questions, spoilers ahead!
1. Will there be more horror/violence in the upcoming chapters? The fight scene where Astarion’s arm falls out of its socket made my skin tingle. It was so well written, and I’m looking forward to more fight scenes if possible.
2. Any ideas/plans for our favorite disaster couple to get more alone time?? *wink wink*
3. I’m a little confused why there’s existing art between Izz and Grodderick? Will they meet in ANE? Have they met already?
OH BOY, I LOVE ANE QUESTIONS!
Absolutely, you can look forward to more fights/violence coming up, as well as some medical grossness that strikes a similar chord. These are all bound to ramp up as the story progresses and I'm very glad you enjoy those portions of the writing, they are my favorites to get into!
To be frank, sex so far in this story has been more of a tool to characterize DU drow's and Astarion's relationship as it progresses than anything else - not that I have anything against completely gratuitous pornography (I mean, have you seen my NSFW art) that's just not what this particular story is for. They will have more ✨love-making✨ scenes, but they will be in line with the ones we had so far both in nature and distribution. Hopefully that's okay! (Addendum: anyone is free to write some smut of their own with these two, if they would like to - just please let me know about it so I can read it LOL)
Izzy's and Grodderick's relationship is more a background thing rather than significant for the story - but yes, they do eventually become a canonical couple. It will make more sense later, I promise 😅
Thank you so much for your questions and for your kindness! Have a lovely night.
78 notes · View notes
draculasfavoritewife · 2 months ago
Text
Idle Hands
Summary: Whenever Tony forgets to go to bed, it's always been up to you to bring him back to your side.
Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!Reader
Warnings: Heavy on the softness compared to most of my other stuff; I was in a very sentimental (read: sad and touch-starved) mood back when I wrote this lol. Tony Stark is a TEASE both in word and deed -- I have said it is canon therefore it is now. The feral way he makes me feel should be illegal. Also you can read the...implications of my vague wordings towards the end as tame or as smutty as you wish ;)
I feel the need to mention here that Tony Stark has been my most favorite comic book character since I was but a mere 11 years old. He holds the distinction of being my longest-running fictional crush/object of my obsessions and I love him so deeply and for so many little reasons that I could write a PhD dissertation on him. So please enjoy my little love letter to the man that has held my heart for nearly a decade and a half <3
It's that point of the night where you really can't decide if it should be counted as ungodly late or ungodly early. 4:00 am does tend to scramble the thoughts.
You've been drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep for what feels like forever, and as you roll away from the digital clock display on the wall with an annoyed sigh, you suddenly see why.
The other side of the bed is utterly untouched.
He hasn't been here with you at all.
You sit up, trying to remember if he had plans tonight. The calendar app on your phone has no record of a gala, awards ceremony, board meeting, or anything else that might have taken up his time.
Which means he's probably down in the lab again.
Briefly, you contemplate trying to call him, but you know from experience that he probably isn't taking calls right now, even if FRIDAY tried to put one through for you. He's in that zone that only designing and building can put him in, the one mindset where his too-busy brain is crystal clear and the world at last makes sense to him.
So you pull yourself out of bed, throw one of his old sweatshirts on over your cami and pajama shorts (he keeps the AC cranked all the way whenever it's warm outside) and pad out of the bedroom and on your way downstairs.
His lab is awe-inspiring as always, no matter how many times you see it. The purring thrum of the generators and the comforting pulse of dimmed lights, the heavy, electric feeling of the air itself -- he's described his workspace to you as having a life of its own before, and you can understand so well why time escapes him down here.
You just hope he's not using it to escape from other things as well.
He's deeply absorbed in his work on something at a station opposite the door, and your heart skips a beat even as you smile fondly at the familiar sight. Clad in sweatpants and a black tank through which you can just barely see the blue glow of his arc reactor, he looks all at once more human than usual and like some being from another world entirely.
It's the Stark curse, he told you once, and you recall the wry slant of his lips as he said so. To know you're a god trapped in a mortal body, an infinite mind with a finite number of years to use it. It's the reason behind all his greatest triumphs -- and all his harshest falls from grace.
And somehow, you were lucky enough to be the one he fell in love with.
It still feels like a dream sometimes.
Realizing he isn't going to look up on his own anytime soon, you stifle a yawn and knock sharply on the doorframe.
"Tony?"
He stiffens as if he's been shocked (always a possibility, when he's rewiring) and shoves the safety glasses high up on his forehead. "That would be yours truly. Everything alright?"
With a laugh, you cross the room, warmth rising in your chest as he immediately sets down his tools and steps out from behind the table to meet you. And damn, he always looks good -- he is Tony Stark, after all -- but there's always something about him when his hair gets all unruly and he has THAT look of intense concentration on his face that really drives home to you all over again just how gorgeous he is.
You cuddle up to him, and he kisses the top of your head.
"Asked you a question, Honey."
"Do you know what time it is, Tony?"
There's a prolonged moment of answering silence as he glances up at one of his nearby monitors. "Crap. Well, why are you up?"
Pulling back slightly so you can tease the protective eyewear off his head, you give him a look. "Can't sleep."
An eyebrow tilts; he's playing dumb.
"And that's my problem why?"
"Jerk." You take your time playing with his glossy dark hair, neatening it back up before raking your fingers through it to mess it up again. "Maybe because you love me...?"
"Oh, so you're down here looking for sympathy, got it." He smirks at you, a well-practiced and infuriatingly handsome look. "In that case, sorry about your insomnia, Beautiful. There's melatonin in the drug cabinet upstairs." He snares the safety glasses from your fingers once more and makes as if to return to his work. "Sympathetic enough for you?"
You wrap your arms around his waist from behind, stopping him from going any further, though the smug son of a bitch starts tinkering with his new designs again even through your persistent clinging. It mesmerizes you for a couple seconds, always has, the way his hands work with such delicate precision and dexterity, and you can't help selfishly wishing he would turn them towards other, less...mechanical endeavors at this moment.
He probably would, in all honesty, but Tony Stark is the king of making you work for it. Philanthropic he may be, but some things even you have to earn from him when he's feeling particularly devilish.
"I don't want your pity," you hum, pressing a sleepy kiss to his shoulder. "I was lonely without you."
"Perfectly understandable. I've been told by many that I'm scintillating company. You can, by all means, stay and watch me work, you know. Feeds my humble ego."
You roll your eyes and impatiently reach up under his shirt, feeling his muscles tense at the unexpected coldness of your hands.
That finally gets his attention and makes him turn around. Before you can even fully comprehend it, he's swept his work out of the way and lifted you up onto the worktable instead, restless fingers drawing intricate patterns on your inner thighs, though his eyes never leave yours, crystalline blue pinning your attention to his amused face instead of his very distracting hands.
"That," he grins, "was adorable. Sleepy version of you is so much more demanding. Maybe I should stay down here too long more often."
You try to frown at him, though his sparkling gaze and mischievous touch make that impossible. "How dare you."
"I do a lot of dumb things to see where they get me. You know that." He nods at the thick gray sweatshirt still keeping you warm. "Why don't you take that off for me, Sweetness. You make me cold, I get to return the favor."
Unable to come up with something snarky to say in return with the way his hands are making you shiver now, you do as he suggests with little resistance, the exposed skin of your arms and chest prickling at the much cooler air.
He leans in to tenderly kiss your neck, and your breath leaves in a sigh at the way his facial hair scratches at your throat. He's always been a helluva kisser and the meticulously maintained goatee is just the icing on the cake. Making out on his worktable was not the original plan when you first came down here, but even by his own admission Tony's best plans are usually improvised.
And you're certainly not complaining.
"What did you want from me again?" he murmurs, close to your ear.
The absolute audacity of him.
"Mmmmmmm," seems to be about all you can manage at the moment, and you know very well what's coming next.
He pulls you closer to him, the movements of his fingers turning agonizingly slow and prompting a slight gasp from you.
The smile that gradually spreads its way across his mouth is absolutely wicked.
"What was that, Sweetheart? I didn't quite catch it."
You try to reclaim some semblance of coherence, but his firm hold on you prevents you from escaping his delightfully systematic torture, so instead you grab on to his well-defined shoulders, your forehead resting against his chest. The mechanically-stabilized beat of his heart echoing beneath his skin a brief reminder that he's alive, despite everything he's been through, and he is yours. There's no one else on his mind, no one else he's let this far into his messy and often painful world.
The world may know him as Iron Man, the one who has saved them more times than they could ever count, but how many people really know the Tony that you know?
That same Tony who now raises one hand to tip your head back, whose sharp eyes soften with affection for the slightest of seconds before the anticipated words fall from his tongue, the words he knows will always unravel you.
"You just have to tell me what you want. Come on, Princess. Use your words."
You shudder and lean in to beg for another kiss.
"You, Tony. Always you. Please."
He kisses you back with renewed intensity, leaving you completely breathless.
"There we go...was that so hard?"
62 notes · View notes
leslie057 · 6 months ago
Text
rating things owned by nancy elizabeth wheeler
because she’s got a lot of little things. mostly they are very cute and strange little things.
Tumblr media
starting off strong we have the prettiest tissue box in the world. 9/10, i think if i were sick it would make me feel better to have such a nice tissue box.
Tumblr media
i’m fairly certain this is her diary beside it because her diary looks pink in the upside down version of her bedroom. so this is probably it? 11/10, i want to read it so bad. and very sweet pic with mom—7.5/10.
Tumblr media
next up these pinstripe pants !! 10/10 i love them so much. oh and the index finger ring is there obviously, 8/10, such a consistent piece of her character.
Tumblr media
a ribbon for being the bestest girl ever in the world. 10/10. also the card of cardinals: 6/10, probably just a christmas card or something rather than a symbol of her love for birds. but i still like it.
Tumblr media
mr rabbit gets 11/10 for the name alone. and why does he look dead. i love him. he’s me.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
descent from xanadu: QUITE LITERALLY 0/10. at first i was SO excited to cheer her on for reading a sex and drugs book at school but as it turns out? bizarre and gross. seems to go heavy on nonconsensual stuff. i snagged a free pdf and command f’d for whore and bitch. lots of results obviously (one use of c*ck crazy bitch…lovely). it seems men in this book say a lot of sexist stuff that the women pretend to hate but love which i can’t imagine is great for a teenage girl to consume. also just not sexy at all.
Tumblr media
literally so bad, and this is not the worst of it.
Tumblr media
sooo bad. the author was what 70 (??) writing that his female character got clinically DIAGNOSED with being a slut for every guy she comes in contact with. i know options for sexy literature were probably limited at this time but…please go check out something else. i wanna bonk her on the head with this book (paperback) and hug her. you don’t need to read this to be cool and sexually aware. moving on.
Tumblr media
on the other side of that, the blondie calendar gives us a sense of the GOOD media she’s consuming!! a 10/10 no questions asked. we don't really get to see many of her hobbies or interests outside of investigation so this is a much appreciated detail.
Tumblr media
of course like all good things in life the blondie calendar does get replaced. its replacement is what i will call Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #1 seen in her room in s4. i give it a 4/10 because idk what’s going on really.
Tumblr media
and here is a very crunchy screencap of Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #2 from s4 which i will give a 5/10. note the boyfriend typical photography above it, for sure a 10/10.
Tumblr media
there is also Weird Antinaturalist Art Piece #3 which gets an 8/10 because i like the composition and the piano player. where did she get this and why. interior decoration is her passion.
Tumblr media
the sleeping bag and crochet pillow setup. 7/10. would take a cat nap here.
Tumblr media
pluto!! 15/10, the best mickey mouse character i would say. i hope her cousin is taking good care of him.
Tumblr media
bulletin board 10/10. i love how obvious it is that she has had this up for forever. probably a nice constant in her life.
Tumblr media
and my favorite pic up there is this precious one. look at herrr. 5000/10.
Tumblr media
her floral weekender bag. 6/10, i like it, but not as much as i like the speedwalk and the toss into the backseat. she was SO ready for her lab takedown road trip.
Tumblr media
trapper keeper is a 9/10 because they probably put anything and everything on trapper keepers back in the day and yet still she chose this lovely understated hot air balloon. elegant.
Tumblr media
tom cruise poster is 1000000/10 actually. she is so loyal to that man. actually though not a great pic of him all things considered so maybe i give it a 999999/10. (i love it so much because i know for a fact that jonathan byers works proactively to never acknowledge this poster, because he is more mature than that.) (he is not more mature than that, in fact he is a little pouty about mr cruise.)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
KITTY FIGURINE. 10/10. i thought it was just in s4 but i found it on her other nightstand in s1. very very adorable. i imagine it is now one of the first things she sees in the morning (well that and her blue telephone: 8/10) which is bizarre and cute. the mixtape drawer gets a 10/10 for reasons that i don’t think i need to get into.
Tumblr media
white fingerless gloves! 10/10. so chic for monster hunting.
Tumblr media
black fingerless gloves from s4. hmmm 3/10, they're cool i guess but they don’t feel very nancy and the white ones are so much better. especially because you may get the splatter effect of monster blood on them in a battle scenario, which would be badass.
Tumblr media
piggybank (with her name on the side). 2/10 unfortunately i don’t like him. he looks at me like i took out his whole pig village and i just need some quarters. also did she paint this herself? in that case, 3/10 for customization lol.
Tumblr media
pastel underwear drawer: 10/10. her committment to the hollistic aesthetic and color palette of her room is impressive here. it was a good idea to use this drawer as a deterrence against her little brother and a money hiding place but clearly he has no manners and is a THIEF.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
STRIPED SOCKS. 10/10. i realize it's hard to see because she's moving so fast (slow down he is not going anywhere) but they are indeed stripey even though i would have guessed solid white. and wow what good sleeping socks. stripes are just cozier. hope she got lots of sleep in those.
114 notes · View notes
mandomaterial · 1 year ago
Note
Could you maybe write something about miguel and a deaf girlfriend or wife?
Ofc bby, personally its one of my favorite things to read because the fics are truly something else! I hope i did your request justice. :3 to be honest i don’t quite love how it turned out but i hope that’s just the little perfectionist in me. I really do hope you like it!
Btw i didn’t proof read any of this- feel free to tell me if they’re any typos! Masterlist
Miguel with a deaf reader
It all started when Miguel bumped into you at the library, you were struggling to reach a book from the top shelf and Miguel being the kind man he was, walked over, reached over your head and brought it down for you. All this had given you a terrible scare, you hadn’t seen him coming and well, you couldn’t hear him. So Miguel got quite concerned when he saw your panic stricken face “Are you all right?” He asked, his eyebrows clenching together. Fortunately you learned how to read lips, so you could quite easily decipher what he said and maybe you stared a little too long at his plush, full lips, you snapped out of it and nodded a little, cheeks all heated up and red.
To be honest Miguel thought you were pretty cute from the start, that’s why he actually came over, he thought that getting a book down for you would be a good conversation started and he didn’t mean to scare you. You hadn’t said anything to him yet, so he tried again “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to spook you.” With a soft smile on his lips, still holding onto your book. You didn’t react at first and you didn’t seem to be making eye contact, instead your gaze was set a bit lower, maybe that should have been his first clue that something was out of the normal here, but no. After a moment you stufend a little and started rummaging through your bag, looking for something, it didn’t take you long and Miguel was surprised to see that you pulled out a pen and a little notebook. You didn’t waste a second and started scribbling something and then turning the pages for them to face him.
«Hi, I’m deaf so i can’t really talk to you, I’m sorry » Miguel eyes quickly scanned the words and as soon as he was done, his big brown eyes snapped up to you, seeing the sorry look on your face. It was like you were sad that you couldn’t talk to him. You were sure that he’d just walk away after this, maybe if you could talk properly you could’ve had a chance with him. But against all odds, Miguel continued “Don’t apologize, that’s oka-“ he didn’t finish his sentence, caught in thought with his eyebrows scrunched. Could you understand what he was saying? And as if you’d read his mind, you started scribbling again. Miguel patiently waited until you turned it over again.
«I learned how to lip read pretty well, just don’t talk too quickly and everything’s okay» you smiled, happy that he was willing to continue. In all honesty you were so exited that this stranger wanted to talk! And he was so handsome too! You bit your lip a little and waited for him to finish reading. Miguels eyebrows raised a little, surprised that it would be this easy to communicate with you, maybe he still had a chance to score your number.
“Oh is that so? That’s pretty cool, do you also speak sign?” He questioned, making sure to not mumble, so that you’d understand easily. It looked like your eyes lit up, with little sparkles shining in them as you wrote on your little notebook. Miguel thought that you were really adorable and he couldn’t help but smile as you started writing excitedly. You handed the note book to him and his eyes shifted to the wording, gladly reading it.
«Yes, I speak sign! You you know any signs? It’s okay if you don’t. :) »
Miguel brought his hand up to his chin, thinking about his time at university, didn’t he take a sign course once? He was deep in thought until his eyes fell on you, you were standing there patiently waiting for him, big sparkly eyes and a big smile on your lips, you looked like a baby deer, just like a fawn. It was too adorable for him and he had to look away a little so that you wouldn’t notice the little bit of blush staining his cheeks. Your head flopped to the side and you didn’t understand, Miguel noticed and played it off as him fixing his already perfectly styled hair, by running his fingers through it. He forced himself to face you again and said
“Um, I took a course at Uni, but i don’t remember much.” He scanned his brain for any signs he still knew and a few popped up “umm, i think this was ‘thank you’?” He signed it, slowly, but correct “And this one’s ‘Hello’ “he signed again, this one was mostly correct as well! You’re ere so exited! You started applauding him just a tiny bit, your palms touching and just your fingers clapping, a gigantic smile on your face that reached past your eyes. Miguel almost couldn’t believe his eyes, how were you so fucking cute? His heart was pounding in his chest, unable to calm down and he was sure his pupils were heart shaped already. He just had to keep talking to you. So he did.
“Um, so what’s your name? My- My name’s Miguel. Miguel O’hara.” You nodded to show that you understood and started writing your name on the paper. You showed it to him and he paused for a second, he looked down to you again and realized that your name really suited you. You cracked a toothy smile that you covered a bit with your hand and just then Miguel realized that he’d said that aloud. His face flopped down embarrassed and he chuckled a bit but started looking at you again soon after “I said that aloud, didn’t I?” he smiled jokingly, you nodded vigorously and giggled a little. It was quiet but Miguel had heard and he could stop his smile from growing. He thought that it was no or never so he put on his brave face, shuffled around a little but made sure to keep his mouth where you could see it and asked confidently:
“I think you’re pretty cute. Could I maybe take you out sometime? Maybe dinner or something?” Oh, he hoped that you would say yes and that he could take you out, he already started thinking about places to go, his mind starting to spiral a little, thinking of you. Your face seemed confused, had you understood that wrong? Did he really want to take you out on a date? This hunk of a man, that could easily pick you up with a single hand? As if. It all feels like a cruel joke, maybe you do need to practice lip reading more. You didn’t quite know what else he could have said, so with a shaky hand you started writing down what you thought he said, preparing yourself for rejection or a misunderstanding.
It’s not like you haven’t been on dates before, actually you’ve been on quite a few, but it never lasted, all the guys thought it would be too hard to communicate and gave up before even trying. It broke your heart every time and you started hating your disability more and more every time it happened. So you decided to get off the dating apps and give meeting someone a rest. Once you finished moving your pen, you hesitantly flipped the notebook to show Miguel.
«You want to take me out? Like on a date?» Vulnerability was spread over your eyes as you feared his answer, expecting him to correct you or something similar, but to your surprise he just nodded, albeit a little concerned about the worried look on your face. He opened his mouth to say something “Do you not want to go out with me? That’s totally fine too, you probably have a boyfriend…” his mood sunk and he felt kinda silly for assuming.
But he couldn’t be more wrong, your mood had seemingly done a 180 and was completely flipped, you wanted to tell Miguel that you’d love to go out with him and that you didn’t have a boyfriend, but he wasn’t looking at you. So you did something a bit out of your comfort zone, you took hold of one of his hands to get his attention, before he even fully started looking towards you again, you began nodding like crazy, hoping to get the message across and bring it across you did, with a smile on his face he confirmed your answer and you just continued nodding with a huge grin.
The two of you exchanged phone numbers and that’s the story of how you met your now husband.
He was still ever so charming as the two of you sat on the couch in your living room, just enjoying each other’s company. You were leaning against his chest, curled up like a cat, just daydreaming about your lovely, handsome husband, until said person tapped your shoulder to shift your attention to him.
« What are you dreaming about, mi sol?» he signed, his finger moving quickly with precision, it had taken him a couple years to fully grasp the language but now he spoke it just as well as you! It was actually pretty cute how he started learning, each time the two of you met up for a date, he always showed off the new signs he learned in simple conversations and every time, you applauded him and gave him a little kiss as a reward. To him that was like the deal of a century, a kiss from his beautiful girlfriend for just a few new signs?m oh yea. He’d take that any day. It even gave him more motivation to study!
You just smiled and snuggled closer, before moving your fingers to say: « Oh nothing, just how we met and how cute you were » you snickered a little, knowing that being called cute would rile him up a bit. And right you were.
« Hey, hey, it wasn’t me that was cute, you were and you still are!» suddenly he grabbed you and almost crushed you in a bear hug, you loved his hugs, they were so warm and cosy, no need for any type of communication, his body telling you everything that you needed to know. This was truly a moment of bliss, Miguel wrapped his fingers around your own and brought them up to his plush lips, kissing your slender ring finger, so happy that the two of you were married. He’d stay with his Mrs. O’hara forever and ever!
Bonus headcanons
- he’s so protective of you, especially if you’re out in the city, he can only imagine how much more dangerous it could be walking around without being able to hear. What if you were crossing the street and didn’t notice a speeding car because you couldn’t hear the honking, what if you got splashed with water from the puddles when another car drives past, or that those stupid cyclists will nock you over, safe to say he worries a lot, so he absolutely always walks on the side wich faces the road, he never lets you get too close to the adage and he’ll always, always hold your hand.
- if someone ever gives you trouble or starts yelling at you because you don’t understand, (mostly Karens) hell put on his scary face and ask if they have a problem with his wife, while staring them down, not once has this ever backfired and he’s proud that he can scare anyone off that’s making you uncomfortable.
- If the two of you are out and about in the city he’ll always interpret anything that happening, oh there’s a crowd over there? They’re watching a performer. Oh, you wanna watch them too? Hell sign whatever they’re doing at the speed of light. Oh, someone’s yelling and there’s drama? If you’re interested he’ll tell you what they’re yelling about. Oh, there’s a cute puppy you wanna pet? Of course he’ll ask for you. And you’re ever so thankful, each and every night, you shower him in kisses and hugs as a thank you. And Miguel? He’s loving every second.
- sure there were a bunch of bumps and hitches in your relationship, lots of miscommunications and sure, it was difficult but he never gave up, he believed that you were the one for him and he’d do anything for you and of course you’d do anything for him as well, the two of you were basically made for each other and he didn’t mind your disability one bit, in fact, it just made you even more special.
601 notes · View notes
braxlrose · 1 year ago
Note
Hello! I really like your writing and I was wondering if I could request a bill x reader? It's where reader had a very rough childhood, with parents and stuff so they dont have a really good picture of love and gets confused about little nice things Bill does for them, like comforting and just being a good boyfriend, and can sometimes be like emotionally unavailable? But they really try with Bill and, yeah! Lmao, you don't have to do this and feel free to ignore!
omggg you're literally one of my favorite writers and I love this request because I really like writing angst bc there's so much emotion so ty <3
Also this is not proof read
cw: mentions of abuse (physical and verbal), angst, tell me if I missed anything pls!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Growing up was hard for you. Your father was barely ever around and when he was, he was completely hammered. You tried to stay away from him when he was like that, but it was hard considering you lived in the same house and he was always getting fired from jobs. Whenever you angered him, he'd take off his belt and beat you until you were sobbing. Then would pass out on the couch and act like nothing was wrong when he woke up.
On the other hand, your mother just never seemed to be happy with you. Always nit-picking on everything you did, the way you looked, the way you did your hair, your style, the way you talked, you were either too skinny or too fat; you just couldn't do anything right in her eyes.
You always tried your best to make them happy, just having the smallest glimmer of hope that they'd be proud of you for something. All your hard work at school or everything you did for your community. All the diets you went on for your mother. Cleaning up after your father. There was just nothing you could do.
You didn't understand why they were like this. Why did they have a child in the first place if all you did was "ruin their lives". You didn't understand love at all. Your mother said that she only does this because she cares about you, but if she cared wouldn't she want you to be yourself? No, of course not. You're either like her, or nothing. And that was that.
***
Then you moved to Magdeburg, Germany. Your mother was sick of her old apartment and your father was banned from all the alcohol stores in your town, so you had to move. Again. This wasn't the first time. You've moved 4 times in the past year because of your parents, you haven't lived anywhere long enough to make any friends.
You had moved into a small village and your mother was making you go over to the neighbour's for dinner. Your father was passed out somewhere so it was just you and her. She put your hair in a high ponytail and added "cute little pink bows". She always pulled too hard on your hair when she did it. You weren't allowed to leave the house unless you put on the pink, frilly dress she got you. You had to be "perfect" and "lady-like" or else no one would like you.
You slipped on your shoes and got pushed out the door by your mother. She had also plastered your face in makeup. Mascara, eyeshadow, lipgloss, all of that. You were fifteen years old for God sakes, why did she care so much?!
"You better not make me look bad in front of our new neighbour's, got it? I don't need your running your mouth like always." You nodded your head as she smacked the back of it, making you flinch before knocking on the door. You heard footsteps coming quickly to the door before a blonde woman opened up. A smile crept onto her face as she saw us.
(Its changing from third person to first person now!)
"Oh come in! Come in!" She said to us with a big smile on her face, ushering us in. My mother pushed me into the house, with a smile. The woman in front of us leaned down and waved, "Hi! You must be y/n! It's so nice to meet you!" I froze. What was I supposed to say? What if she got mad at my tone? What if I said something wrong? What if- I looked up as my mother nudged me on the arm, glaring into my eyes. don't be rude. she didn't even have to say anything for me to understand.
"Nice to meet you too!" I said to her, trying to smile but it just ended looking uncomfortable and awkward. She stood back up to her normal height and turned around, waving us towards the living room.
"Boys! Come down here to meet our new neighbours!" The woman shouted up the stairs as me and my mother sat down on the couch. She swatted my arm again.
"Stand up straight. Your going to make me look like a bad mother!" She whispered to me, giving me that icy cold glare she can never seem to get rid of whenever she looks at me.
Just then, two boys came stumbling down the stairs. They were obviously twins but looked very different from eachother. I turned my body back around when I heard then coming into the living room. I straightened out my back and looked at them with wide eyes.
"Woah, a girl." The mophead whispered. Tch, mophead. That's what he looked like. His dreads were all over the place.
"This is Mrs. y/l/n and y/n. They moved here today. Why don't you boys show y/n around the house?" They both nodded and smiled at me. This is where it all began. My friendship with Tom and Bill Kaulitz. It's been about 4 months since then and we all became good friends really quickly.
***
Me and Bill were walking through the park while tom was out doing God-knows-what. It was December already, so it had gotten really cold. We walked on some trails before Bill stopped us.
"What are you doing?" I asked, as he bent down on his feet.
"Tying your boots. You're gonna trip on them." My eyes widened as he leaned down. I'm just a fucking idiot I didn't even notice my shoelaces were untied. Who the fuck doesn't know that? Why didn't I realize? Am I actually that stupid? I could hear my mother's voice pounding in my head.
"Oh no! You don't have to do that, it's fine really! I'm just stupid, it's f-" he covered my mouth as he got it.
"Relax, I'm already done and I don't mind. Wouldn't want my favorite neighbour to fall face first into snow." He laughed and kept walking. Why'd he do that? He should've just told me to do it on my own, right? I don't need anybody to do anything for me. He should've just left it alone! What the fuck is wrong with hi-
"Hey are you thirsty?" What? What was he saying? I looked over at him when he stopped. We were back in town now, I hadn't even noticed.
"Hello?" He waved his hand in front of my face.
"Uhm..what?" I asked with a blank expression on my face. What was he saying? Why was he even asking me instead of just telling me? Isn't that easier?
"I said are you thirsty? There's a place just down the road that sells the best hot chocolate, you'll love it!" He said, grabbing my hand to bring me down the road. He wanted to get me hot chocolate?
"I don't have any money, Bill." He looked back at me and laughed.
"I'm buying, dummy. Why would I offer you something and then make you buy it? I'm not that awful." He joked, keeping my hand firmly in his. What. He wants to buy me something?
"You don't need to do that bill. I don't want to be a burden-" I sputtered out, not wanting him to do something he'd regret before he interrupted me.
"Burden?! You?" He stopped walking again and pulled me closer. Our faces were only a couple inches apart now and my hands were in his. "Y/n, you're my girlfriend. If I wanna buy my girlfriend a hot chocolate I'm gonna buy my girlfriend a hot chocolate, 'kay?" I was stunned. I don't understand why he's like this. He's too nice, people are gonna take advantage of that. Nevertheless, I nodded and walked down to where they were selling hot chocolate. Bill made sure to put extra marshmallows on mine. Why was he treating me like this?
We arrived back at his house and he pulled me down onto his bed with him.
"Jesus christ! Your hands are freezing, why didn't you say something." My hands? I guess they're cold. I hadn't noticed. Maybe they had gone numb half way through and that's why. Why did Bill care, they'd warm back up with time.
"It's no big deal Bill, I'll survive.." his eyes went wide like I had two heads.
"Are you insane?! No way!" He grabbed my hands and pulled me closer to him. He rubbed his hands onto mine and wrapped mine tightly in his. "Can't have your fingers falling off. I need someone's hand to hold." I smiled at me and wrapped the blanket around me. I laid my head down on his pillow and closed my eyes. My life wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to have a perfect boyfriend who gets me hot chocolate or warms up my hands for me. I don't deserve this. You don't deserve this. She was back again. She's always there. My mother sitting in the back of my head like there's a throne waiting there for her. Why were her words stuck in me like glue. I'm sick of her constantly belittling me like I'm nothing. But I am. I am nothing. Nothing at all. Just a useless soul that needed to fill an empty body and nothing mor-
"Y/n! Wake up! Are you okay?" Huh..? What was happening? I turned my head and looked outside. It was pitch black out. Had I fallen asleep? I turned back to bill and he looked like he was on the verge of tears. He had shaken me awake from my slumber. "Are. You. Okay?" He asked again, "you were mumbling and crying in your sleep. Did you have a bad dream?" I was crying? My finger tips reached up towards my cheeks. They were wet. I guess I was crying.
"I'm fine, bill. It was nothing." I mumbled and laid back down. His mouth was slightly agape as he crawled closer to me and engulfed me into a hug. He laid kisses all over my face. Why? Why does he care?
"You're not fine, and it's okay to be not fine! Just tell me what's wrong and let me help you!" He said to me as both of his hands caressed my cheeks. Help..me? Like I'm some charity case that needs fixing? I didn't need to be fixed. Yeah maybe I'm not perfect to my mother and maybe I have some fucked up issues but I don't need to be fixed. What the fuck was his problem?! Doesn't he understand I'm perfectly fucking fine!
"I said, I'm fine!" I shouted at him, shoving bill away from me and pushing myself off the bed. I'm perfectly fine and I don't need him telling me what's wrong with me. His head hit the wall by his bed and I could hear a crack. I broke his wall. I don't care. That's his fault. He should've backed off.
I heard him calling out my name along with a couple cries in between. I pulled on my shoes and stormed out the door. I don't need him or anybody or anything! I don't need him treating me like I'm some child who can't control her emotions!
That was 2 weeks ago. I hadn't spoken or even looked at him in two weeks. What was wrong with me? I hurt the only boy who's ever loved me. He probably hates me now. I'm the worst girlfriend in the entire world. Im the stupidest person. You're the most dumb, ugly, disgusting daughter who has ever been seen on this earth.
she's back.
I'm fucked up in the head and I don't know how to fix it. I want to blame my mother and father but it's not their fault, right? They care about me. It's my fault I'm like this. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I have no one to blame but myself...right?
I was stuck sitting down in a chair while my mother poured goopy foundation onto my skin. We had to go to some classy town thing and I had to actually "look like a girl".
"Maybe if you were naturally beautiful I wouldn't have to waste my time doing this."
"Sorry mama..it's not my fault though..." She glared down at me and smacked the back of my head.
"You're lucky you have foundation on or I would've smacked the shit out of this disgusting face." She gritted between her teeth. Her words were like an awful, greasy poison dripping from her tongue. I hadn't done anything and some how I had made her mad again.
She shoved me into a long, cream colored dress and turned on the ignition. I leaned my head against the side of the door as we drove. Why couldn't I just be the normal, beautiful daughter my mother wanted? If there was a God, he had some serious explaining to do.
"Stop slouching! You think I want a daughter with bad posture?! My god! Can't you do anything right?" The speech. I've heard it a million times since I learned how to talk. How I can't do anything right and I'm just some failure who should've been aborted fifteen years ago. How I ruined my mother's life and how she was going to be a star if it wasn't for me.
It was a long car ride but we finally got there. And the event was even worse. There were so many people and the music was way to loud. I felt like crying. My hands were shaking and I couldn't stop picking at my nails. Women kept coming up and taking to me with their children. Friends of my mothers. I could guess by their judging stares. I looked lady-like and had good posture and was smiling. Why was I being judged, what am I doing wrong again? Why can't I just be normal? A normal girl who doesn't fuck everything up. Doesn't make her parents hate her. Doesn't ruin her parents lives. Doesn't make people feel awkward. Doesn't hurt their boyfriends.
And that was my breaking point. Tears flooded down my cheeks and everybody was staring at me. I stumbled away into another room and sobbed on the floor. I couldn't breathe. My hands hurt from picking at my nails and my face hurt and my body hurt and my eyes were burning and my makeup was surely ruined.
Everything is. I always ruin everything. What the fuck is wrong with me?! The one person who truly cared about me...i..I haven't- I hiccups against the wall and bawled my eyes out. The one person who truly, actually cared about me...I haven't talked to him in two weeks. Then I caught my breath. I stood up and wobbled to the nearest window. I pulled myself out of it and stumbled outside. My whole body hurt so I probably ooked crazy. I could feel mascara was running down my cheeks as I walked through the town.
My arms were freezing cold and I still felt like everybody was watching me. Their beady and judgy eyes staring me down like I was about to go crazy. Well, I guess technically they were right. I just started sobbing in front of everybody so I probably did look insane. You looked insane! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Can't you just act like a girl for once!? That's what my mother said me to in the 3rd grade after a play we did..
I finally got back to my house and looked up to the neighbour's house. Bills house. The light was on in his bedroom. He was awake. I turned back to my door and took a deep breath. I had to say something to him. Right? I had to make him believe I wasn't some crazy person who would push everybody away. Maybe that's what I was though..
I knocked on the door but nobody answered, so I stepped into their house. It was completely dark as I stumbled up the stairs to bills room. I looked at all the happy family pictures they had. God they were so lucky. So lucky to have a perfect family. A father and mother who love them. Having a twin must be great, it's like having a bestfriend for life, right?
As I stepped up the stairs I heard the door open. Bill must've heard me coming up. When he slowly looked around the corner I saw his eyes widen at my awful state. I guess I should've cleaned myself up first, I look a mess. My dress was torn from crawling out the window and my makeup was obviously smeared. I bet my hair wasn't too pretty either.
"Holy shit, y/n?!" He came down the stairs quickly and grabbed my arms, helping me up the stairs, "what happened?! You look...awful."
He sat me down on his bed and I didn't know what to say. I just stared at him. This perfect guy who loves me. I tried to open my mouth and say something but nothing came out. I guess he could tell I wasn't sure what to say because he went to the bathroom and grabbed some wipes.
"Here.." he kneeled down and began to wipe my makeup off. Tears slipped past my waterline as he comforted me. He just sat there looking up at me with a pity smile on his face as he cleaned me up. He took of my hands in his other hand and held it. He really was perfect. He saw him grab some lotion off his desk and rub it around my face after he wiped everything off.
"Come on, why don't we get you into some comfortable clothes okay?" I nodded at him and toyed with my fingers as he picked out some clothes.
I was laying in his arms now. His fingers were combing though my hair as I laid on his chest. I wasn't sure why he was doing this. Any sane person would've just kicked me out, right? I held onto bill tighter whenever he kissed my head and my cheeks. I cuddled up closer to him and nuzzled into his neck.
"I love you, y/n.." bill whispered as I dosed off into my sleep, breathing in his comforting scent and letting tears fall on his skin because he was the only person who was able to make me feel at home.
OKAY THIS TOOK ME LIKE 2 HOURS AND IT ALMOST GOT DELETED BUT THANK GOD IT DIDNT, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!!
the end felt kinda rushed but I hope it was still good
taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @dead-tapes @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles @saumspam
464 notes · View notes
lurking-latinist · 4 months ago
Text
How to Suck Less at Summaries
Probably almost anyone who's ever posted a fic to ao3 or a platform with a similar interface has been hit by that moment of panic, breaking in on the euphoria of having finished and polished a fic--"what do I put for the summary?!"
So much so, that "I suck at summaries" in the summary box has become something of a cliche. It's very understandable! You've already put all that work into writing the fic itself, and now you have to write ANOTHER thing with its own set of conventions and expectations? No way!
And I want to start by saying that that's absolutely fine. Fic writing is your hobby, your creative endeavor; you're not obligated to do anything in it that you don't want to. You can leave the summary box completely blank--ao3 will let you--and there's no reason you shouldn't, if that's what you want to do! If you're happy with your summaries, please don't change them. There's no wrong way to do summaries. This is your invitation to ignore the entire rest of this post!
However. My impression is that an awful lot of people aren't happy with their summaries. They would like to have summaries that catch a reader's attention, that fit common patterns, or that give a good representation of the fic; they're just not sure how to accomplish that, or what readers might be expecting. And the good news is that writing various styles of summaries, like other kinds of writing, is a skill you can improve--and that there are some tips and tricks that can help you write the kinds of summaries you may want to write more quickly.
How do I know? Well, on top of having read I don't know how many fics, I've published 200 of my own, with all different kinds of summaries. (In fact, writing this post is my treat to myself to celebrate publishing 200 fics!) So I have a lot of trial and error experience to draw on. I'll be using my own summaries as examples (plus some hypothetical examples), because I don't want to be nitpicking anyone else's!
I'm going to throw in a cut now because this is gonna get long.
What do you want to accomplish with your summary?
That's the first question you might want to ask yourself. And the answer really is up to you! The name "summary" suggests it's supposed to be a sort of short version of your story. That's one option. But summaries are often used to accomplish various other things, too: some of my favorite summaries don't really tell you anything about the plot of the fic, but instead give you a glimpse of the writer's style or lure you in with a question. It can also fill organizational purposes like commemorating the reason the fic was written (although author notes can also be effective for things like this).
Most fundamentally, I tend to think of the summary box as a place to manage your readers' expectations. I want them to have some sense of what the fic they're about to read might be like, and I want to present that in a way that highlights why it might be appealing to them. Of course, what I write won't be appealing to every reader--and an effective summary, plus accurate tags and ratings of course, allows a reader who won't enjoy what I have to offer to quickly keep scrolling and find something that fits their tastes better. But the way I think of them, summaries are really mainly for readers who will enjoy my fic if they decide to open it. A summary for a fic is like a pretty package for a gift: the gift is great in itself, and the nice gift-wrap makes it more eye-catching and more fun to open!
Sidebar: This "managing expectations" thing is, I think, the reason why authors sometimes add notes in the summary like "I'm sorry if this sucks" or "this is my first fic, it's probably terrible." I completely understand where this comes from--you don't want to make your readers expect some kind of genius literature and then only have something to give them that you yourself are still insecure about! But I really do think they're generally counterproductive. On the one hand, that kind of negative self-talk will tend to undermine your own confidence and make you more insecure about your writing, not less; on the other hand, they can subconsciously prime your readers to notice weaknesses and issues that they might otherwise not even have paid attention to! That doesn't mean you have to pretend you think your writing is perfect; very few of us do think what we post on fic archives is perfect. There's nothing wrong, even, with a note like "this is my first fic" or "this one is a bit experimental, I'm not sure how I feel about it" or "this wasn't written in my first language" or even "this is an old fic and I don't think it represents my best work anymore", although I tend to put that kind of commentary on craft in the author's notes rather than the summary, but that's just me; there's no rule. As an example, when I recently published my first fic in the Hornblower fandom, which has a historical setting I wasn't previously very familiar with, I thanked my beta for helping me avoid "historical howlers" and added "any remaining are my own responsibility." That made me feel better about potential mistakes in research by showing that I was aware I might have made some. I put this in an author's note at the end of the story. But, for the sake of you as a writer as well as me as a reader, I'm asking you--please don't start out our reader/writer relationship by telling me it's terrible! Give yourself a chance to shine. Even if there's a lot you're insecure about in your fic, there's something you love--maybe it's the premise, the ship, even one particular line--that makes you want to share it with the world. Use the summary to highlight that. As your reader, that's what I want to know about!
Anyway, now that you've decided what you want your summary to accomplish, there are a couple of very easy ways to fill the summary box that you might want to consider--if they make sense for your fic.
Just quote the prompt
When I write prompt-fic, often very short, I frequently just quote the prompt itself as the summary. An example would be my 3 Sentence Ficathon fic archived on ao3. Since the challenge in this event is to write a complete fic in only three sentences, a summary wouldn't be much shorter than the fic itself! So I just do summaries like
For reeby10's prompt: "Doctor Who, Clara/Twelve, unforgettable."
(Gaps)
This can work outside of prompt memes, too. If you're doing a monthly challenge, for instance, something like
Flufftember day 21, 'breakfast in bed'
might tell your readers all they need to know to be interested in your story and know what to expect.
Set the context
For some fic, the most important thing you want your readers to know going in is something about the fic's context. For instance, with drabbles I sometimes use the summary as a place to sneak in information about setting/what's supposed to be happening that I didn't have room for in the drabble itself. For Susan's Twist, a 100-word drabble, I set the scene in the summary:
Susan is grooving to the latest chart-topper of 1963. But for some reason, the song makes her grandfather uncomfortable.
which meant I didn't have to use any of my 100 words explaining "Susan was listening to the radio, when..." Since Susan's Twist was inspired by someone else's Tumblr post, I could also just have referenced that post in the summary. But in this case, I chose to phrase the premise in my own words in the summary, and cite the Tumblr post in the author's notes (I also tagged the OP when I shared the fic on Tumblr).
Flower Children is an example of a drabble with a not particularly effective summary where I could have used this strategy quite effectively. The summary is just
Neither of them wants to fight.
which is all right, but which doesn't do much to set up the (admittedly cracky) Eighth Doctor/Dalek Oswin pairing that motivates the fic. But then, I've always felt like I didn't have quite as much of an idea as I'd like about what the context for this fic is supposed to be. Maybe I'll write more about them sometime.
Setting the context can also be useful for summaries of AUs. Very often, what draws people into AUs is the AU concept itself.
For instance, the premise of my story te quaerens, Ariadna is that the events of the audio Zagreus go differently and the Doctor remains possessed by/transformed into Zagreus. So that's what I said in the summary:
The Doctor is still Zagreus, but he and Charley find ways to keep going.
In this case, the summary is accomplishing more than one thing; it explains the concept, but it also indicates a bit of the story's tone--it's fairly optimistic given its premise, and it's more about how their relationship evolves than any particular plotty event.
With setting change AUs--especially in familiar AU settings, like a coffeeshop, high school, or fantasy monarchy--often what readers will most want to know is what roles the characters are filling; in other words, how the translation from canon to AU has been made. For instance, my story Warmth is already tagged as a coffeeshop AU with the Fifth Doctor, Nyssa, Tegan, and Adric, so the summary indicates that it's told from the perspective of Tegan as a new employee:
Unexpectedly stranded in London and looking for work, Tegan finds a place where she just might fit in.
If she had been a longtime employee or a customer, that would have changed the story's dynamics, and I would have wanted the summary to reflect that instead. I could have also added that the Doctor is the shop's manager and Nyssa and Adric are the existing employees, but I decided to let the story itself reveal that in this case.
With someone's planted a bath bomb in the matrix, which is a retail AU inspired by an incorrect quotes tumblr post, I just stuck the whole tumblr post in the summary box:
Romana: When you work at lush and a customer comes in and bites the soap because they think it’s cheese… this happens way more frequently than you think. Leela: If you stopped literally presenting soap as deli food this wouldn't happen. Narvin: Who goes into a bath store and thinks something covered in glitter is cheese? Brax: Who goes to the store and just takes a bite from the cheese? ~incorrectgallifreyquotes.tumblr.com
I might do that a bit differently now--maybe more the way I handled Susan's Twist--maybe something like this in the summary:
An uptight employee and a too-suave customer are making Romana's job managing a bath store way too stressful. Thank goodness--probably--that her best friend works for mall security.
And then I'd have put the tumblr post that inspired it in author's notes.
Thing is, though, that reflects my taste and what I think is effective now, but it doesn't mean I did it wrong the first time. People read and enjoyed the story, and it was fine!
Also I just showed this post to Moki and she said she thinks the first one's more intriguing. So that just goes to show, it's really a matter of taste.
This strategy is also useful for missing scenes and things like that. Something as simple as
While waiting for Z to return from the rendezvous, X and Y have a conversation.
can draw in readers very effectively, especially if X and Y's conversation was kind of obviously a gap in the story that they might already be curious about.
Use a quote
A surprisingly effective and straightforward way to create a summary is just to use a quote from the fic. I've seen tons of great summaries like this that hook me in immediately. I struggle with using it myself, because I want the line I quote to be powerful/impactful/intriguing and give some sense of what the plot is like and make sense out of context, and I don't often seem to be able to find lines like that in my own work. But I did for The Moon by Night:
It could not have been more than a day that we clung to the hull of that station full of troopers.
Since this is a space AU for a historical fiction novel, this line gives some sense of how the events of the story have been translated into space, and also shows the voice I'm writing in (I tried to follow the style of the original, which is first-person, which is unusual for me). If you can find a line like that in your work, it can be a great summary. You can even just put the first couple of lines of the fic, especially if you've already worked to make them an effective hook!
You can also use a quote from another source. Was there a line or moment from canon that inspired the fic? A poem or song that fits its mood? You can use the summary as a sort of epigraph. (I often use author's notes for this as well.) If your readers vibe with the quote that inspired the story, they're likely to vibe with the story as well.
I did something like this with Absent thee from felicity awhile. The title is a quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet, and all I put in the summary box was another quote from a couple of lines later:
…to tell my story.
This is so short and contextless, though, that I'm not sure how effective it was. It maybe only works if you recognize the specific Hamlet scene that it's taken from and have thought about that scene in the context of a specific episode of Hornblower. (I promise that, if you do, it's heartbreakingly ironic!) This could have been a good opportunity for me to do a double summary (see below), especially since the story is epistolary and I could've established its context. Although I did kind of like revealing who was reading the letter and when slowly over the course of the story.
Okay, but I do want to explain the plot
Right, so we've established that effective summaries don't have to be in that "back of the book blurb" format. But sometimes you want them to be. Sometimes the thing you're most excited about is the story's plot or events, and you want to communicate that to the reader. But you already wrote the story in order to communicate the plot to the reader; how do you condense it into a sentence or two? Here are some tips that may help.
Are you using familiar tropes? If so, just mentioning them will likely tell your reader not only what the plot is, but that (if they like that trope) they're likely to enjoy it. For instance:
A and B are trapped in a snow cave/ice planet/walk-in freezer and must huddle for warmth.
That particular one will also explain a bit about the setting, if you want.
Relationship status/development is also something that many readers want to know, whether it's a romantic or a gen relationship (e.g. characters becoming friends or realizing they see each other as family). For instance, if A and B admit their romantic feelings for the first time in that huddling for warmth story, you might add:
They get a lot closer than either of them expects...
I rather like ellipses at the end of a summary; I think they imply, sort of, "read the fic to find out the rest." I sometimes use them to soften a summary that feels a bit abrupt. I feel like this might be just me, though? So if you don't like ellipses, nothing wrong with ending that same summary with a period.
If you have a fic where the entire content is some emotional development between characters, the entire summary can easily be that too!
I don't really write smut so I don't have good advice for summarizing it, but I get the feeling this might be a relevant strategy for it?
What changes in the story? This could be a change in characters' attitudes towards each other, in the information they have, in their physical situation, or anything else. A story doesn't have to be about one single major change, but there's almost always at least one. (Or a change fails to happen, but in an interesting way: "five times Lois Lane didn't realize Clark was Superman" would be a perfectly intriguing summary!)
What demands are made of the characters? Many stories involve a character overcoming some kind of challenge or meeting some kind of test. A summary can indicate what that challenge is--and you don't have to indicate whether or how the characters meet it! This can contribute to a feeling of suspense, so that the reader feels they need to read the story to find out how the characters react. For instance, I summarized my story Journey as:
The Doctor and Ace need to stop a dimensional leakage to put a life-sucking entity back where it belongs. But to do so, they'll each need to protect the other in their own way.
What are their own ways? Do they succeed? The reader can probably guess that they do--but how? Their attention is caught, and they'll have to read to find out!
Some notes on format and style
Summary style is as personal as the rest of your writing style, so this is only intended as a mention of a couple of trends I've noticed.
Sometimes summaries are 'in-universe'--i.e. they describe the characters and what they do, without reference to the existence of the fic itself as a textual entity--and sometimes, like the "five times" example I gave above, they refer to the fic's format, characteristics, relationship to canon, etc. in direct terms. (For instance, the example I gave for a missing scene was 'in-universe,' but I could just as well have said "While waiting for Z to return during Episode 3..."). Either of these approaches are fine, although I personally tend to incline more towards the in-universe style unless I have a particular reason to use the other, such as in Differences of Opinion, which took a lot of metatextual explaining:
When I read enough easily-crossed-over stories, such as for instance the Age of Sail books that I have been reading lately and also spaceship stories inspired thereby, what inevitably happens is I end up with a nebulous meta crossover setting where they can all hang out outside of their respective canons. Here's one conversation from that setting.
I keep wondering if something more terse might have been more effective, and I could have put all that in the author's notes. But I really think that for anyone who would enjoy this fic, the metatextual complication is a big part of the appeal. So I put it in the summary.
It's pretty standard to write in-universe-style summaries in the present tense, even if the fic is in the past tense. "The characters do this and that," not "the characters did this and that." You don't have to, but it's what your reader is most likely to be expecting.
It seems to be quite common to have a double summary: one that maybe reflects the style and tone of the fic, and another, more matter-of-fact one that explains the plot. They're frequently joined by "or." I don't typically use it--maybe because I rarely have the problem of having too much summary--but if you do, this could be a great solution.
Spellcheck and proofread your summary extra. Whatever strategies you normally use to make sure the words in your story are the words you actually meant to write, it's a good idea to turn those strategies on the summary with special intensity. After all, this is your first impression on your reader, so you probably want to look as polished as possible!
These are just a few things I've noticed that I tend to think about when staring at that blinking cursor in the summary box. I hope they may help you, too, to feel like you have something to say in that moment!
93 notes · View notes
fiber-optic-alligator · 10 months ago
Note
Hello! If you still got slots for requests, may I ask for some soft vore with Earthspark Bumblebee? Hope that’s okay!
It is absolutely okay anon! Earthspark Bumblebee...whatta guy. Personally, he's one of my favorite Bee incarnations, so I really enjoyed writing this. Thanks for the request! Feedback is always appreciated! :D
I wanted to make the reader androgynous when it comes to the environment Earthspark takes place in for the sake of all of you who are imagining yourselves into the story. Just assume you live on the Malto property alongside Bumblebee to help train the Terrans and kids if you wish.
Warmth In Raindrops
Pairing: Earthspark Bumblebee x Human Reader
Warning: This story contains soft vore. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, then please do not read this story.
Word Count: 1661
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You can’t sleep.
  The thunder outside keeps you awake. With every crashing boom, you feel like there are a million trash cans toppling over outside, ringing painfully and causing your eardrums to ache. You shiver, drawing the covers over your head, your body curled up into a ball as you shrink back against your mattress. Lightning flashes through the window blinds. You feel like you are trapped within a haunted mansion despite being in your own bedroom.
  You can’t sleep like this, and if the storm continues at this ferocity, you won’t be earning a wink all night.
  More thunder. A whimper escapes your lips, and you squeeze your eyelids shut so tightly they hurt. You can feel the fatigue weighing you down, all the way from your bones to your brain. It’s quite pathetic to find yourself in this state. Childhood is long behind you; thunder is not something you should fear anymore. Yet, you’ve never managed to get over that instinctive dislike for loud sounds. And so here you are, with no way to escape the anger from the skies above, forced to tremble before their booming might.
  You don’t want to be alone.
  Slowly, you sit up and push the covers off of you. Each careful step you take through the house is illuminated by the lightning and shaken by the heavy drumming of raindrops. You have to dress yourself for the weather before you go outside. Your coat and boots do little to ward off the deluge, and as soon as you walk out the front door, you are soaked. Anxiety is quickly overcome by frustration. You run for the large red barn that sits a little ways off from the house, mud and water splashing in your wake as you keep your hood over your head. The comforting farm scents of hay and horse bring peace to your agonized mind when you slip through the doors and into the darkness.
  There are no animals, not right now. In the far corner of the barn, you see a hulking mass spread out on its back. It is big; bigger than anything else in the barn, the giant robot who is currently taking up residence here is fast asleep. You peel off your coat and boots, throwing them to the side before tiptoeing over to the black-and-yellow mech. Bumblebee is huge, even when he is laying down like this, but you feel no fear when you approach the recharging bot. He’s proven himself time and time again that he would never hurt you.
“Bee,” you hiss.
Bumblebee snores.
  You sigh. “Bee.” You shake his arm lightly. “Bee, wake up.”
  He snorts and sits up sharply, optics flickering open with a start. “Huh? Wha…?” His gaze lands on you. “Oh. Y/N. What-what time is it?”
  “It’s midnight,” you reply.
  “Midnight?” He stretches his arms over his head and yawns like a big cat, large incisors on full display while blue light momentarily radiates from his mouth. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
  You look down at your feet and shrug, mumbling out a halfhearted answer that doesn’t form into proper words. He takes the sight of you in and softens.
  “Can’t sleep?” he whispers.
  You shake your head and hug yourself tightly. Bumblebee smiles sympathetically and rolls onto his side, opening his arms wide. “Come here.”
  You don’t need any more convincing. He laughs softly when you practically fling yourself into him. He curls himself around you, hugging you tight to his chassis. “Clingy tonight, aren’t we?”
  “Mm, shut up.” You slap him lightly. He laughs and coos, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Cute little one,” he murmurs.
  More thunder causes you to stiffen. He notices and chuffs questioningly. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
  You tilt your head up to look at him. The glow of his optics is calm, his expression one of soft concern. It’s a bit embarrassing for you, a grown adult, to admit the answer, but the look he’s giving you silently implores you to trust him. You can tell him anything. He won’t judge.
“The thunder,” you reply.
  Bumblebee blinks. “Is it scaring you?”
  You bite your bottom lip and nod, lowering your head to sheepishly hide your reddening cheeks in your arms. The mech’s voice drops to a whisper. “Hey.” He dips his index digit under your chin and tips your head back up to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I get it, I do.” He rubs his thumb up and down your thigh in a soothing manner and speaks with a honey-sweet tone. “Do you want to go inside?”
  You perk up a little. “You-you mean it?”
  “I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t,” he chuckles. “I know how sensitive your ears are to loud noises, and even though I can be quite…noisy…” He presses his servo over his midsection, and you can hear an eager growl echo up from beneath his plating. “I know you would rather listen to me than the thunder. So c’mon.” He opens his intake, casting you in the cyan glow of his biolights. “You want in?”
  You hesitate, casting an uneasy look into the massive robotic mouth that’s so, so close to you. Warm air that carries the slight scent of gasoline wafts around you, beckoning you forward with hypnotic warmth. You’ve never allowed yourself to be…eaten by a Cybertronian before. You are aware of their capabilities, of how they can swallow a human down into their tank. You wouldn’t be digested. You’d be…warm…
  Bumblebee senses your nervousness and tries to soothe you with low purrs. He bumps his nose against you again. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he murmurs. “You’ll be safe. I promise, I’ll always keep you safe.”
  You inhale shakily. Warmth. Safety. You’ll take both over the thunder. So you sit up and reach your arms forward to carefully press your hands against his tongue.
  It’s soft, squishy. It doesn’t have a fleshy feeling to it, but rather its texture is like silicone, allowing you to sink into it with little resistance. Bumblebee looks down at you with a twinkle in his eye. Slowly, he shifts your hands to the side by curling his tongue up to taste them. The sensation of it rolling underneath your palms causes you to giggle. “T-That tickles.”
  “Does it? Sorry. You just…you taste really good.”
  “I…I do?”
  “Yes.” He presses his tongue up against your palms with more force. “I can definitely see myself craving you.”
  You giggle again. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or disgusted.”
  “Ehh, maybe both.” He laughs. “But I’d prefer the former over the latter.”
  He nudges you forward. You comply and allow him to guide you into his mouth. Climbing over giant teeth, you flop forward, biolight washing over you as you peer down his throat. He lifts his tongue to slide you further in. He’s patient with this; there’s no hunger in the way he draws you in, no sense of urgency or possessiveness. He lets you go at your own pace, and only when you are completely inside does he close his mouth. The sound of the thunder is barely audible now. You nestle in and close your eyes, soaking in the heat, content to remain like this for the rest of the night.
  Bumblebee hums. His tongue rises only a little, and you inch closer to his throat. Though he doesn’t gulp you down, from the way saliva is practically dripping from every surface of his mouth right now, you can tell he desperately wishes to swallow you. Not wanting to torture him any longer, you give him the all clear. “It’s okay, Bee. I’m ready.”
  Another hum is what you get for a response. He gives one last little lick to your face before he swallows.
  It’s a slow journey down. You close your eyes and let his esophagus carry you further into his body. All around you is the sound of his purrs. When you finally do slip into his fuel tank and sink into the thick, squishy cables that close in to hug you close, you feel such an intense level of comfort that it makes you want to beg him to keep you in here forever.
  “Y/N?” Bumblebee whispers for you. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”
  “Mm.” You make a soft, relaxed noise. “M’ okay, Bee. I can hear you.”
  “Is it alright in there?” he asks. “Are you warm? Can you see?”
  “Bee, trust me, I’m fine. I’m very warm and I feel very happy.” You lay flat on your back and stare up at the tank’s “ceiling.” All around you, his biolights shine. It’s like a light show that feels so good to look at. “I don’t know why we haven’t done this before.”
  “I didn’t think you’d want to do it,” he says. “I haven’t done this with a human in…oh gosh, I want to say years, but it's probably been a decade.” The tank walls squeeze you in one big bear hug…or, bot hug, you think humorously to yourself. “But I’m glad I could do it again with you.”
  You smile and close your eyes. “You are such a sap.”
  “What can I say?” He squeezes you again. “I’m always a sap for you, little one.”
  You murmur incomprehensible noises and turn onto your stomach, squirming with a flustered feeling rising within you as your cheeks turn red. Bumblebee coos and cuddles you, wrapping his arms around his midsection to hold you tightly within. You say nothing else, and yet, you know you don’t have to. He understands. He always does.
  There is no thunder here. Only gurgles and purrs and his sparkbeat. You find yourself slipping off into sleep before you know it. Your rest is deep and undisturbed. It’s safe here. You are safe here. With him surrounding you, protecting you, there is no reason to remain awake.
232 notes · View notes
kazumiwrites-fanfiction · 1 year ago
Text
Accidental Confessions
REQUEST: I FINALLY THOUGHT OF MY REQUEST May I request Azul, Jade and Riddle getting high because of mushrooms for some unknown reason and confessing to a gn reader bc their ability to stay composed just went completely out the window? It's more of a fluff/crack idea I came up with, sorry if it's not too clear @thehollowwriter
SUMMARY: When the usually cool and composed guys accidentally confess due to... Some interesting foods. WORD COUNT: 1.3k
WARNINGS: Mushrooms (need I say anything else), maybe OOC, Jade and Floyd and Azul shenanigans, they may act like they're under the influence of drugs (no actual drugs in the story though!!), these poor guys (please give them hugs), Ace is chaos A/N: Me, trying to make sure I get everything right: *types in Google* "what happens when you get high" on my school computer Don't do drugs guys :D (I would've said kids but I'm like 96% sure that most of the people reading my fics are in fact older than me) I love how I finished this a while ago and then was like "I'm gonna add a bit more to the end" and it was only like a paragraph- Azul is my favorite, you can see from how much I write for him </3 Also I love fluff and crack, I enjoy writing it the most! Feel free to send more requests like these <3
© kazumiwrites - All rights reserved; please do not steal, edit, copy, repost (etc) my work without my express permission.
Tumblr media
Azul Ashengrotto
You know, Azul should have known better.
Jade always went out and got some mushrooms on his hikes, and he seemed pretty confident that he knew the different types of mushrooms.
But one single mistake - a mushroom similar enough to a perfectly fine edible one - and now he felt woozy.
Great.
It wasn't an unpleasant experience - he felt happy in that dreamy way, where you weren't able to comprehend much. But he knew this was bad.
What if he got addicted? That would ruin all his plans for his future. He needed to have a clear head.
He really should've been resting, but unfortunately, Floyd had ran off (most likely so he didn't have to be near the mushrooms). Due to that, Mostro Lounge needed an extra pair of hands.
So when he saw you, he immediately was on guard as much as he could be. Who knows what he could let slip when you were so close, and his thinking wasn't at its best…
He tried to avoid you, but unfortunately (again? Why were so many bad things happening to him today?) you sat at the table closest to him.
He had to go up to you and take your order. Your sweet smile almost made him melt, a soft flush on his cheeks as he just nodded quietly, jotting your order down.
You thought it was odd - Azul was usually the type to chat people up, try to get as much of a profit in as possible - but today was different. It made you a bit worried, honestly.
As you asked if he was all right, Azul's eyes widened.
His mind went blank, and the only words that left his lips were, "Sorry, you were just really cute, and I-" He froze as he realized the words he said, trying to backtrack, but he couldn't think right. "I mean, I just thought your smile was- you- I-" He shook his head slightly. "Forget it," he said, hands shaking slightly out of embarrassment as he turned and walked away.
As Jade had been watching and listening to the interaction, he quickly made your order before handing it to Azul (who had been hoping for some rest behind the counter before seeing you). Jade was saying something about how Azul really needed to be quicker with processing orders - Azul was pretty sure that Jade knew about his feelings toward the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm.
Azul sighed softly before trudging back to you, the food and drink you ordered held in a tray. "There you go."
As you inquired about what his previous words had been about, he saw the teasing glint in your eyes.
Did you know?
"It was nothing- I just like you a-" A slip of the tongue. Damn it. He hadn't meant to say that. He quickly backed away before almost sprinting to the VIP Room, his cheeks flushed a bright red. He almost ran into the doorframe though (which Jade may or may not have taken a picture of).
Bonus:
"I told you that Azul likes you a lot." Jade smiled, a small glint of his teeth showing. "Did you plan this?" "Jade might've given Azul an unusual mushroom~" That sing-songy voice had to be Floyd's. "I knew it." You rolled your eyes a little. "That was cute, though. Although your method might have been a little mean. Poor Azul." "You can go talk to him after you enjoy your meal." Jade smiled at you. "And Floyd, you haven't had anything to eat. Perhaps you would like one of the mushroom soups I've made?" "No- I've had enough of your mushrooms." A soft whine came out of the other tweel's lips. "But maybe Koebi-chan wants some?" "Thanks for the offer, but I probably should go to Azul as soon as possible." You laughed softly. "There's no telling what's happening to him right now, after all."
Tumblr media
Jade Leech
Jade had a heavy mishap on his hands. He had gone a bit overboard with picking his mushrooms, and then Floyd had gone and messed with his careful labeling.
And then he didn't check the contents and labels thoroughly before he put them into a little snack for himself.
So now here he was, stumbling to Ramshackle Dorm for no reason in particular.
It was a wonder how he hadn't stumbled off the path, what with the hallucinations he was seeing.
He stumbled inside (luckily the door wasn't locked), quickly moving to your room.
At first you thought he was Floyd due to how off he was acting. But nope, that was definitely Jade.
"Jade?" Your eyes were wide as you stared at the male. "What are you doing here?"
"I love youuuuu." Well, that was a surprise.
Now you were really wondering if this wasn't Floyd. It sounded like something he would say.
As the tall male draped himself over you, you awkwardly tried to get both of you comfortable on the small chair. It was no use, however, as you toppled off of your chair and onto the ground.
You let out a soft huff, staring up at Jade who had fallen on top of you. How fun…
He seemed to have fallen asleep, relaxed on top of you. Well, at least he didn't seem to have gotten hurt.
You awkwardly patted his hair as you gave up trying to move. The floor was uncomfortable… But you could bear it, you didn't want to stop looking at Jade's sleeping face.
Tumblr media
Riddle Rosehearts
Ace, the prankster he was, had put in an insane amount of sugar in some cookies he was making. He had then given the cookies to Riddle.
The unsuspecting Riddle had accepted the cookies, feeling a bit confused. Why was Ace making cookies…? No matter.
He was starting to eat some of the cookies when you had been brought to the Heartslabyul dorm (totally not by force).
You were also confused, and for good reason. Ace was saying something about pranking his housewarden, but to be honest? What reason did he have for calling you here?
You were pretty sure it was just so Ace didn't get punished. He didn't want to keep getting in trouble, after all. Though, the rational thought would be to not prank Riddle at all… But oh well.
"Hey, Riddle," you said, feeling a bit uncertain. You smiled a little at the male.
"Oh- hi, kantokusei." The red-haired male blinked at you, looking confused.
"Yeah, so- Ace dragged me here? I don't really know why, but-"
He paused for a heartbeat before replying. "I don't know why he brought you here either." He sighed softly, shaking his head.
"Well…" You shrugged awkwardly. "Are those cookies any good?" You gestured vaguely towards the plate in front of him.
"They're too sweet." Riddle frowned a little. "Ace has no delicacy in doing these things, he thinks more is always better."
You let out a soft laugh. "Sounds like him." Just as you reached for a cookie, his hand brushed past yours.
He froze, cheeks flushing adorably. All the sugar in his system was making his heart race and not be focused on what he was thinking.
Before he could even question it, he grabbed your hands. "…I like you a lot." he got out before freezing yet again, hands still holding yours. Why had he said that?
Little did either of you know, Ace was wheezing behind the closed door. He had put in a small little potion, nothing major, that caused a person to say what they felt to the person they liked. He had gotten it from Azul, and it clearly had worked.
The deal had been worth it to get blackmail on his housewarden. Now, if only he could somehow use this to get rid of Riddle as housewarden and all of his strict rules… That would be great. Maybe he could even actually win?
Tumblr media
As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ♡ Send your thoughts grr
This post has details for requesting, and I also currently have a writing event going on here. Please check it out!
340 notes · View notes
idyllcy · 4 months ago
Text
from one admirer to another : how do you like your eggs?
Tumblr media
pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another
Tumblr media
synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.
Tumblr media
featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas
Tumblr media
Dear scrambled eggs:
it feels strange to write to someone in such a format, but I suppose I should get used to it. We got paired up via from one admirer to another because of our shared passion for Ada Wong. I find it a little amusing that someone else just straight-up put a model's name instead of modeling on its own, but I'm glad you did.
As an ada stan, I feel the need to ask this immediately. How did you feel about her helicopter shoot? I'm hoping you aren't some weird stan like those... yeah. Also, while on that topic, if you're really as die-hard as me when I have free time, you should read glhf <3 by okaokra on ao3. It's gender-neutral, it's a great fic, unless, of course, you're too normal for reading fanfiction. In that case, maybe we can find another middle ground aside from Ada Wong.
Right, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm user Christmas, a weird translation + twisting of my real name. I live in Raccoon City, and I model as a part-time job because of ... you guessed it, Ada. My dream role is to model with her, but considering that I'm only a local model, this is truly out of my reach. Maybe some strike of luck will help me?
I used to dream of being a cop until I got scouted off the street by some guy for modeling. Do you think I suit it? Who am I kidding, you have no idea what I even look like. Maybe you pass me on the covers of local magazines all the time if you live nearby. I'm not nearly as famous as Ada Wong, though, so I suppose I can never truly call myself a big model until I become someone like her. Even then, she's not a supermodel.
Tell me more about yourself, maybe? What's your favorite holiday? How do you like your eggs in the morning? Do you even eat eggs? Why the name "scrambled eggs" over anything else? What do you do in your free time— oh, I should answer that question.
I seldom have free time lately, but I feel like all I've been doing late is reading the fic that I mentioned earlier. Oh, right, hopefully you enjoy the sticker I got from a fan gathering. I did a little bit of research, and it seems pretty normal to send your penpal small trinkets in the letters, so we'll start with a sticker.
I thought the mail would be digital, and then I was notified that you would prefer physical mail — which, to be fair, I'm not complaining about. I think it would be funny to open a box of letters exchanged between a penpal and I 10 years down the line. Who knows, maybe you'll even be at my wedding.
Right, my apologies for a long first letter, but I'm excited to be starting this.
signing off, Christmas
Tumblr media
Leon sends the mail the next morning, rubbing his eyes slowly as he rides the public transport to his next shoot, waving good morning to his manager as he sips on his coffee, hair blushed back and gelled, formal clothes handed to him. Leon finds that he doesn't really suit clothes like this, but for the camera, he puts up with just about everything. He finds it interesting that he would be modeling in clothes he hadn't liked wearing all that much.
"You have another shoot later today, and then you're off for the rest of the weekdays. You have another shoot over the weekend."
Leon nods, blinking slowly as the coffee shoots through his system and he's revived magically. It feels unreal. He's working as a model despite finishing the police academy at the top of his class. Is this what delusion and some sweet talking from a random agent can do to a person? It feels a little wasteful to let his training turn into this, but he's not complaining all that much. Yet. he meets eyes with the model he's supposed to be posing with, blinking in surprise. Wow. That appearance is lethal.
He waves at you, giving you a small smile as you wave back, smiling back.
"New?"
"Mm... moreso someone who doesn't like booking. My manager booked this months in advance, so I'm here." You stay still as the makeup artist finishes with you, Leon raising a brow as you give him a cheeky grin.
"Did you leave before your makeup was finished?"
"I wanted to meet you. I heard I was modeling with someone pretty well-known." You grin. "Leon Kennedy, was it?"
"Yes. Am I that big now?"
"Mm... you're quite a name amongst us local models." You tap your chin. "It's quite an honor modeling with you. I heard you have deadly biceps."
"Well, you can't see them through the suit."
"It comes off, no? I'll just fix it." You tilt your head.
"And how do I know you won't jump my bones?"
"Oh, please. I'm your coworker right now. I'm not someone sketchy." You roll your eyes, helping him free an arm as he flexes for you. You blink at his arms, raising a brow as you stare up at him. "Can I squeeze?"
"As long are you're not weird about it."
You grab his bicep, giving it a squeeze as you nod slowly. "God, I need your arm routine. You got a trainer? I'd like to get that contact."
Leon rolls his eyes, fighting the blush that threatens to creep up his neck from your skin contact. God, what is he? fourteen? Get a grip, Leon. "Gotta get that from my manager, then."
"Shame." You sigh, helping him put the suit jacket back. "Maybe the next time I bump into you, I'll have biceps of a greek god too."
"Leon, model two! You two are up!"
"Wow, they don't even name you?"
"Maybe I just like being mysterious."
Tumblr media
start : masterlist : next letter
Tumblr media
76 notes · View notes
sugarpasteltmnt · 24 days ago
Note
What are some of your favorite character relationships/dynamics in TMNT, and why? Is there anything that you particularly like seeing explored with them in fan works (art, writing, comics, etc)?
oh wow!! what a fun ask!!
stashing this under a read-more because i really popped off LOL
My favorite relationships and dynamics??
I feel like i should preface this by admitting that Rise was actually my first real exposure to the TMNT franchise-- and after reading and watching some other iterations it became incredibly apparent how different Rise was in several aspects. And i loved it!!
but with TMNT as a whole, i really love the Leo and Raph dynamics across the TMNT universe (shocking i know lol). It's probably my favorite dynamic of the whole franchise lol. I love love love how they can clash against each other in dramatic ways. And yet, at the end of the day, they would lay down their lives for each other. It's so fun and heartwarming to see that across all the different TMNT iterations.
I also think how Splinter's relationship with the boys can drastically fluctuate between iterations is super interesting. Splinter is such a cool character, and playing with his relationship with the boys has such a crazy big impact on the story and vibe. My favorite Splinters are 2003 and Rise and those two are hilariously different. But something they share is their protectiveness of their families. Which is a dynamic some other iterations turn on its head! And I love that!
And April. GOD i love April so much. The concept of her character is a trope i love. A human who is not just a friend but family with non-humans??? I'm obsessed. And I love that each April of every iteration has her own level of unhinged-ness.
Honestly I could probably write a thesis on each character but I'll try to keep it short lol. But something I really love???
The TMNT franchise itself isn't afraid to experiment with its own iconic relationships or story beats.
It doesn't take itself too seriously while putting a lot of thought and care into the wild, different storylines or concepts. What I might think is an iconic relationship/dynamic in TMNT might be different than someone else's-- and that's fun! The level of flexibility and boldness for trying different things for dynamics and relationships is something I really adore about TMNT as a franchise.
There are tropes and dynamics that are totally my favorite. But I also love seeing those things experimented with!!! But I had to absolutely pick something, it would be all the dynamics seen in Rise. I just love it so much!!
And fan works??
as for what I like seeing being explored in fan works, i gotta say--
I LOVE IT ALL AHHHH!!!❤️💞💗💖💕❤️💞💗💖
TMNT is such a fun and unusual IP, and i totally enjoy seeing other fans going wild with their own creative ideas. I love seeing people pop off with whatever their hearts desire. Anything from the iconic tropes to the niche, hyper-specific concepts-- I love it all. Because there is so much to explore with these characters. And I adore seeing people having fun with their ideas. It's hard to answer what my 'favorite' things to see are because I'm greedy for ALL of it! Because seeing all the different experiments with my favorite dynamics and relationships is so incredibly refreshing and exciting!!
I love seeing people play with each brother's relationship with one another. I love seeing the different takes on Splinter and his role as a father figure (or lack of). I love seeing the potential early-days of Rise-April's relationship with the boys as kids. I love every possible take on every possible character. I will always be a sucker for the juicy story tropes. But I'm just as ravenous for the off-the-cuff twists and concepts. I love any and all of it. Because it's so fun to see what people can cook up-- especially when it's a setup that you never would've thought of before but gave you a new perspective!!!
Because at the end of the day, TMNT is-- frankly-- a silly franchise. And it knows it! But it's not afraid to put in the serious moments and emotions that make all the dynamics interesting. And it's not afraid to experiment with its own building blocks. And I love that fans aren't afraid to push the unexpected in fan works, or do a deeper dive of the dynamics and relationships we've seen in different iterations.
This turned more into a love letter for all TMNT and TMNT fans rather than what my favorite parts are, but it's still all true! I am constantly collecting my favorite dynamics and tropes and putting them in my mental shelf of favorite things. While there are classics I'll always love no matter what, some days the flavor changes!!! And I love that TMNT both as a franchise and as a fandom is so diverse when experimenting with these characters!!
So, in a way this is me saying keep having fun creating and experimenting--because not only does it make me happy, but I hope it makes you happy too 🩵
37 notes · View notes