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moonydustx · 7 months ago

Note

Hii, i was wondering if you would like to write something about zoro being jealous? Just that haha :) btw i love your writing!

Hi Hi Hi! First, thank you for the request and the compliment, they really make my day. And second, sorry for the delay in writing, I ended up getting stuck with some work deadlines. I loved the idea and although our little greenie has a tough exterior, I think he would be one of those jealous people who refuses to admit it, you know? I think I ended up going on a more protective side with this one, but I hope you like it.

A not so friendly friend

Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader Warnings: Zoro is jealous and a little protective of his girl, he and F!Reader have a kind of secret relationship. A little smut at the end, nothing super explicit. Summary: The Straw Hats arrive on one of the islands where you lived for many years and, to your delight, you meet a long-time friend. Someone in the crew doesn't seem that happy.

requests open | one piece masterlist

It was almost impossible to keep your euphoria contained within your body. You hadn't set foot on that island in years and finally, you could spend a few days there - even if it was just long enough to record the Log Pose.

"Someone seems anxious to me." Usopp leaned next to you as the Sunny finished docking in the small port.

"Right after I left my home island, I spent a few years here, I believe I can still find some friends."

"I hope they're nice people."

"They sure are!" the two of you quickly turned your attention to Luffy, who was shouting that everything was ready to disembark. The two quickly walked towards the group, this time Franky would be responsible for taking care of the ship.

"We're finally here!" Robin joined the two of you. "From what you told me, there's a big library around here."

"Yes, I'll take you there, we also have great restaurants…" you listed. "Wait, how are we going to split up?"

"Well, from what you told me, it's five days until Log Pose finishes recording and since it seems to be an important island for you, we can do most of the things together." Nami explained and waited for the others to agree. "We've already distributed everyone's money, but today we're going after…"

"Food!" Luffy interrupted her and immediately felt Nami's hand slap him. "But you promised to take me out for that delicious pie." he turned to you.

"Yes, we will. Let's go down first, shall we?" you asked and everyone immediately agreed.

Like many other times, you watched Zoro go down first and almost automatically stretch out his hand for you to support yourself and go down. That gesture didn't go unnoticed by your crewmates, but they knew your personality well enough not to question it.

The group continues calmly to the island's central square. New stores, old schools, even some salespeople were the same and seemed to have recognized you when you waved, your cheeks already hurt from the fixed smile.

"I remember in that bar over there one time…" you commented and heard something in the background.

"Kitten?"

Everyone immediately turned towards the voice that called you as they watched you become a figure as you ran towards the blonde haired boy.

"Leo!" recognizing your former friend immediately, you threw yourself into his arms, allowing the man to lift you off the ground.

"Seems like she's well liked here." Robin chuckled as he watched you practically spin around.

"Is he also a pirate?" Brook analyzed him. "What do you think."

"He seems like a nice guy." Chopper replied smiling

"Kitten?" Zoro practically groaned when he heard the nickname, muttering under his breath.

Even with the man's hands on your waist, squeezing you tightly and your laugh being heard from afar, the way the word had come out of the other guy's mouth made it clear that Zoro wouldn't like his stay there in that city.

"Guys, I need to introduce him to you…" you pulled the man by the hand, bringing him closer to the gang. "This is Leo, he was one of the best friends I had here."

"I went?"

"Still one of the best friends." you laughed, being pulled into a side hug by the man. "Let me introduce my friends, Straw Hats."

You made a point of introducing each friend one by one and again that seemed to bother Zoro. Friend? His little rationality reminded him that you had never made anything clear about the implicit situations between the two of you, but the small bad feeling - which he refused to name - bothered him.

"Come on, I'll take you to our base." the man continued holding hands with you and guided the others.

"Wow, how different you look." "So, how has it been exploring the sea?" "I bet you haven't found anyone as good as me."

Every time the man opened his mouth to praise you, Zoro felt his hand grip tighter against the sword in his sheath. Just one of the three and he would do all the damage that crossed his mind. It was a strange feeling, watching you there with someone else, even if they were talking. Something that stirred any butterfly that might exist in his stomach, that made his eyes turn red, his hands itch to get him out and take that Leo's place. Zoro hated this new feeling that came over him.

"Hey Zoro." your voice woke him up from his trance. "Did you know that Leo is also a swordsman?"

"Interesting." His tone of voice was almost cynical, going unnoticed by you.

"This one is the executor." Leo pointed to the sword in his sheath. "It was supposed to have another name." the man turned suggestively to you.

"I would never let you use my name for that thing." you grumbled, turning back to Zoro. "He's one of the best swordsmen on the island."

"What's your bounty?" the provocation was implicit in the cynical smile that adorned Zoro's lips and this time, it had reached your eyes.

"I don't have one." the man replied calmly, reassuring you.

"Interesting." Zoro repeated and followed in silence.

The others seemed distracted, talking amongst themselves, but your eyes started to turn around a few times, following the green-haired man who started to walk further behind the group.

The afternoon passed quickly on the island. You met up with some other friends who didn't seem to be as close as Leo and when night fell, everyone decided to go to a bar. Everyone except one person.

"Zoro, can we talk?" you asked, moving away from the group that entered the place full of drinks and noise. "What is happening?"

"About what?"

"You barely spoke to me today and now you're refusing to drink?" you stood on your tiptoes, to touch his forehead. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Chopper to make sure you're not sick?"

"Everything is fine." he responded directly, even if he wasn't harsh, his eyes made it clear that something was wrong. "I'm going to go back to Sunny, take advantage of the free time to train."

"Greenie, please." the nickname you used so much to irritate him came out sweeter than he expected from your lips. That made it even harder for him to deny any of your requests.

"It's okay sweetie." his hand touched yours and the memories of watching you all day arm in arm with Leo made him pull away. "Your friends are waiting for you, go."

You watched him leave and even though your body almost involuntarily wanted to follow him, you let Zoro return to the ship.

The remaining four days felt like an eternity to Zoro. Something told him not to move away from you and on the other hand, with every laugh you gave Leo's direction, it was as if he was hurting himself. Why did he have to feel this way? It was just a friendship, wasn't it?

He managed to control himself, many times he managed to control himself. Seeing you have lunch next to him, watching the man carry you from one place to another, the stupid gifts he insisted on giving you and even Leo daring to say he could train you with swords.

Zoro didn't know if there was a god or something, but he thanked the heavens when the last night began to fall. The next morning, you would set sail and he would no longer be forced to share his attention with the idiot who called himself your friend.

The tall bonfire at the edge of the small forest was surrounded by members of the Straw Hats, Leo and some other friends. Drinks and food piled up, as did stories and songs that Brook made a point of singing. Your lips no longer smiled so much, especially when your favorite swordsman met your gaze. He was distant, it had been five days since you had barely been able to speak to him and when you did, he seemed to be as dry as the Alabasta desert. On the other hand, these days you had met a much clingier version of Leo, even uncomfortable and you didn't know how to get away - and apparently the person who could help you with this, didn't seem to be so worried.

"Kitten?" Leo bent down, stopping at your ear level. "Can we talk alone real quick?"

"Why?" you asked, seeing him find the question strange.

"We need more booze!" the man ignored what you said and said it out loud. Pretending he wasn't already talking to you, he nudged you. "Come on, help me, kitten."

Zoro watched the man say something to you and your expression changed, sulking. Leo repeated the gesture again, ignoring that he had already spoken to you. Something possessive took over Zoro - something was wrong and he wouldn't sit still until he found out what it was. Leaving the sake aside, the swordsman stood up and, following a more hidden path than yours, accompanied you to the back of the warehouse - which was the supposed base that Leo had presented a few days ago.

"What is this, Leo?" you stopped in front of him, seeing that they had taken a different direction than you expected.

"I know you're leaving tomorrow, but… Why wouldn't you stay here?" he asked and you immediately shook your head, before your lips could even say it.

"They're my family now. I still adore you, everyone here, but I'm going back to the sea." Your answer seemed to disappoint him. "You know it's always been my dream."

"I know it's selfish of me." the man approached, holding your wrists and, more gently than you expected, he guided you against the wall. "I like you, I always have. If you want, we can go to the sea together, we can form a family, we can…"

"I have a boyfriend." Leo laughed in disbelief, still keeping your arms tied to his, in an even tighter grip. "Leo, you've always been my best friend. Let's not ruin that."

"Friends? You've been missing for years!" he growled, slamming your fists against the wall.

For a few seconds Zoro chose to just watch, hatred was in his eyes and if it weren't for your presence there, Leo would already be just a memory in this world. He knew you weren't a lady in distress and that if you wanted to get out of there, you would get out easily. But there was something written in your eyes, something he saw very few times in battle - fear.

Before the man repeated the gesture, you watched Leo's face get closer and when he was millimeters away, he stopped. His eyes immediately widened and before you understood what the glow was on the side of his neck, you saw a small trickle of blood appear on the man's jugular vein.

"Get your filthy hands off my girlfriend…" Zoro's low tone was even more threatening than if he had been shouting. "Before I take them out of your arms."

"So it's him." Leo muttered, frustration clear in his voice. "I should have suspected."

"I'm sorry." you whispered, without even understanding why you were apologizing.

"I could kill you right now and believe me, I'm still debating whether to do it." Zoro approached, now allowing Leo's entire neck to be covered by the blade. "But I'd hate to ruin the banquet."

"Don't worry about that." Leo threatened to pull his sword, but this time it was you who held his hand.

"Just go back there Leo, let's pretend this didn't happen." you asked and Zoro could now notice how stressed you looked, but at the same time relief appeared on your face.

"She's right." Zoro muttered, moving even closer to the man. "Let's pretend none of this happened and maybe tomorrow you won't wake up just to choke on your blood and die."

"Zoro!" Your voice sounded like a warning to him, who lowered his sword and let the man leave.

For a few seconds, the two of you just watched each other. It was good to be able to have your boyfriend there, finally within walking distance of you.

"How are you feeling?" Zoro took the initiative and held your hands, as if analyzing where the man touched you. When you felt them trembling, he placed a quick kiss between your fingers. "Did he do anything else?"

"No, he just wanted me to stay here." you let your body lean against the cold wall. "Why just now?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"All week I've been trying to reach you, bring you with me, integrate you with my friends here." you huffed, feeling Zoro get even closer to your body.

"I wanted to give you space." he lied and saw you laugh. The sound - which this time was exclusively for him - made Zoro's ego inflate.

"I didn't know you were the jealous type." a moan of relief almost escaped you when you felt his arms wrap around your waist.

"Not jealous, just protective."

"What's your bounty?" you imitated him, laughing again. "Isn't that jealousy?"

"No, kitten." this time, he let a soft laugh escape his lips.

"I am sorry dear." you sank into his chest, letting his hands slide down your back. "I was excited to see everything again and I didn't understand Leo's real intentions."

"And why didn't you defend yourself?" your eyes met his and then Zoro realized his mistake. "I mean, I'll always defend you, but I've seen you get out of worse situations."

"I know." Again you cuddled up, the cold wind sent shivers through your body. "It's just that he was a friend, you know? He saved me many times and I guess I didn't expect to have to fight with him. He was never a threat." The sound of Zoro's heart against your ear was comforting, it was like going back to any of the crows nest nights, where you would stay tangled up for hours. "I found his behavior strange, he was never like that, clingy. But I didn't know who to ask for help."

"I imagine it would be difficult." Zoro murmured, letting his lips touch the top of your head. "Sorry I didn't show up sooner, kitten." he teased you, getting another laugh from you.

"Time to stop this kitten."

"Are you sure, kitten?" he said again, but Zoro's voice came out a few octaves lower, his provocation took a new turn.

His hands that had been caressing your back found themselves on your waist and pressed you against the wall. One of them went up to your chin and held you steady, looking into his eyes, but not for long. Eliciting a moan, Zoro took your lips intensely. No time for little kisses, or any affection that could come first. His lips brought longing and the taste of sake, mixed with the sweetness of your lips.

One of his legs fit between your thighs, the hands that held your waist forced you against the fabric of his pants, moving you like an incentive. While the assault on your lips didn't stop, the heat in your intimacy began to accumulate and form a knot.

"Zoro, please." a strangled moan left your lips, trying hard to contain the noise and not attract the attention of anyone nearby.

"I'm here, love. I got you, just give it to me." his lips that bordered the sensitive spot below your ear took your lips and held all your moans just for him.

Zoro held you there for some time, sweat accumulated on your face as you were still panting. It was a version that didn't appear that often, but you loved it when Zoro lost himself caressing your face, letting his lips slide delicately across your skin.

"Zo, I think we should go back." despite yourself, you moved away from him a little. "By now, Leo should already have contact for everyone."

"Great, at least for one good thing this good-for-nothing will do." upon noticing your lost look, Zoro continued. "I was tired of hiding it."

"Are you sure?" his hands cupped your face, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

"I love you woman, how can I not be sure of that?" the confession brought a huge smile to your lips.

"I love you more greenie."

Zoro took the lead and with his hand tied in yours, he guided you back to the fire. It was as if nothing had happened, everyone was still talking and drinking. Still feeling your legs weak from the little time you and Zoro had, you sat down and let him go get drinks.

Upon returning to his place, Zoro saw that even without saying anything, Leo was still staring at you, practically on the other side of the fire. With his chest puffed out in ego and relieved to finally have you back in his arms, Zoro sat behind you, so that you were between his legs and when he handed you your drink, he placed a kiss and a light bite on your neck. You were his and from now on that would be very clear.

"It can't be! It's too bad luck all at once!" Sanji's tearful voice attracted the attention of both of you and made you laugh out loud when you saw that the blonde was complaining precisely about the little scene between you two. "What does this mosshead have that I don't?"

"I knew!" Nami screamed and ripped Chopper's hat off. "You can go give me your money, you idiots."

"You guys bet on us?" you asked indignantly and to Nami, Usopp and Franky's joy, apparently they were the two winners.

"This world needs to end…" you laughed even harder when you saw Sanji handing the money to the navigator.

"That's it, now there are two idiots wanting what's mine." Zoro pulled you even closer to his body. "Only mine."

#reader insert #fiction #no use of y/n #requests open #zoro x you #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece fic

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psylocke142 · 4 months ago

Text

I'll wait for you.

Sana x fem!reader

synopsis: You and Sana have an on/off relationship. You broke up again two weeks ago. Then you begin to talk at a school event again.

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: angst; hopeless romantic; no happy endings here; on/off relationship; more angst; complicated relationship; even more complicated feelings; smoking

a/n: i am trying something new here. i have never written or posted anything before, so bare with me if you decide to check this out. i just felt like trying something here. btw i love sana and i apologize if she seems like the "bad guy" in this fic. :) DMs and asks open to suggestions and feedback.

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You're currently back home, sitting on the roof of this shitty old house. It's been over an hour and the sun is starting to set. However, you can't seem to find the motivation to go back inside. You've been looking back at these past months. Lighting up a cigarette and inhaling a lung full of smoke as you try to figure out where it all went wrong. You're afraid you already know the answer, but one can fake obliviousness.

-- Flashback --

It's been weeks since you were last on good terms. If only you can explain or express how deeply that crushes your heart.

Thursday was open mic night for school. You had finished classes early that day and rushed out of your part-time at the restaurant.

Sana was there along with your friends. You rushed into the cafe, where the open mic was being held. It was crowded.

Anxiety began to rise and take over your body, heart hammering against your chest.

Whether it was from the thought of performing in front of everyone or the thought of seeing Sana, you had no clue.

You had entered through the side entrance. Automatically you searched for her face, wondering if she really did decide to come see you perform.

Sana: of course I'm gonna go!

Y/N: really? you don't have to

Sana: yes i do!

Y/N: ...ok then

Sana: will you be happy if i go? i mean... do you want me to?

Y/N: ...yea i want you there

Sana: ...

Y/N: ...

Sana: i'm sorry y/n...it's ok if you don't want me to go

Sana: i know things have been weir-

Y/N: please come sana

Y/N: really, i mean it

Sana: oh...ok!

Y/N: ok

As you moved through the crowd you saw the face you've longed for. The person you had been missing. Sana.

She wasn't alone. She was walking next to Momo. The both of them had classes all day so they still had their book bags on them. Their backs were facing you as you approached them. You had an idea.

You walked up to the two girls, making sure to go unnoticed. Then you suddenly yanked on their backpacks lightly while yelling, "I can't do this." Blabbering whatever came to mind first.

Both girls turned around with a scare, Momo screaming loudly of course.

After the initial shock wore off. Sana replied, "What happened?" meanwhile Momo was hitting your shoulder cursing at you.

"I can't do this. I don't think I can go up there."

Despite the punches you were receiving from Momo you were solely focused on Sana. Your gazes met and locked. Sana reached out for your hand to calm your anxiety. Old habits. But you weren't opposed and you didn't feel like pulling back either.

It had been a few days since you both last spoke. Two weeks since you broke up. You would pass each other at school, sharing some of the same classes. But things were a bit different. Post breakup. You texted every once in a while trying to remain friends. Trying to remain in each other's lives. It wasn't the same.

Even though you had broken up, your presence wasn't unwelcomed by Sana. The two of you remained close during the beginning. Sitting down next to each other as you watched the first events. Momo tagged along but stayed a bit behind. You tried playing it cool at first, keeping a slight distance. There's never been any awkwardness between the two of you, so conversation came easily. Almost like nothing ever happened. Almost.

There was a shift in Sana. She went quiet and appeared to be focused on the current musical act, but her face showed she was debating something inside her head. You could tell it was something serious by the way she was chewing on her bottom lip.

You can't recall Sana's exact words. She had leaned close into your side. Her front touching your shoulder. Breath tickling your ear as she whispered, "I miss you y/n/n."

"Take me back y/n..."

"Please."

You turned around to meet her face. The sudden shift in Sana caught you off guard. Not expecting this sudden topic. You regained focus quickly, shifting to Sana's features that were just an inch away. She had a soft, sad smile. Her eyes pleading. Sana was your weakness. Your everything. You couldn't ever say no to her. So you met her eyes and gave her a slight nod while softly smiling at her. Sana's smile grew and she gave you a small peck on the cheek.

The rest of that night was great. Until Sana disappeared.

She had gone off somewhere with Nayeon and Jihyo. The anxiety had returned. This time you were sure that it was about performing later that night. You wanted to run away. Your hands began to sweat and you searched for Sana.

Professor Park came up to you, asked you when you wanted to go up. Currently it was the second open mic participant on stage. He said you could go third or last for the open mic. "I'll go third. I don't want to end it weak." Professor Park laughed at your comment, thinking you were joking. You were joking. Partially.

Sana came up to you as your conversation with the professor ended. When he left you started complaining and pretended you were going to leave. You knew Sana would beg you to stay. She held onto your hands trying to calm you down.

You were up next and had begun to really get nervous. Performances and public speaking just aren't your thing.

The host called up your name. Your hands started to shake. Heart pounded in your ears. You parted from Sana, she slowly let your hands go. You hesitated letting go. You wanted to take her with you.

As you walked up to the stage you heard cheering and applause. You turned to look at the crowd. There you recognized Momo, Mina, Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu cheering loudly. You took the mic and mumbled that you weren't prepared. Though you don't know if you said it loud enough for everyone to have heard. Hopefully no one had caught that.

You recited your poem's title and said it incorrectly. You mentally slapped yourself, but you rectified yourself and restated the title. You continued with your poem. Your voice, hands, and legs weren't as shaky as the previous performances in class. You heard this one guy in the crowd blurt, "Shiiiiiiiitt" as you read through the final lines of your poem.

At the end there was a small hesitation for the applause because of the sudden twist in your work. That was your intention. The applause and cheers came soon. Especially from your friends. You turned to glance at them and saw Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo pretending to wipe tears from their eyes as they "cried" on each other's shoulders. Competing with each other on who could seem the most realistic.

You got down the stage. Hurriedly walked down the middle towards the back of the cafe. To Sana. As soon as you reached her she opened her arms. You wrapped your arms around her. Sana gently rubbed your back as you held tightly onto her. "I'm so proud of you baby" she cooed.

Sana let go and slightly pushed you off to grab a hold of your hand. She led you to a secluded area of the cafe. Then she palmed your face and grabbed the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

You had missed the feeling of her soft lips.

But like all good things, it came to an end.

Nighttime came quicker than you wanted it to. You were now back in your dorm. All you wanted was to lay in bed and relax. The rollercoaster of emotions draining your energy. But the ride still wasn't over. You were sat up in bed, on the phone with Sana.

She wanted to break up again. She had just asked to get back together a couple hours ago but here you were. Sana asked for space once again. Explaining that she had been dealing with insecurities, didn't know who she was, and had other personal issues. She needed time to find herself and figure things out for herself. As hard as you tried to reassure her, tell her she was perfect, give her nothing but love she insisted she needed space. You respected her decision.

That Friday night felt like it would never end. Felt like you couldn't catch a break. You felt nothing and everything at the same time.

Word was out that you and Sana broke up. Again. How everyone found out, you don't know. You were sitting in the common room before class with Momo and Jeongyeon. They were bickering about some nonsense. You didn't have it in you to join them. So you pretended to read your English textbook. Sana entered the common room. She headed straight towards Miyeon, who was across the room, to ask her about upcoming finals. You couldn't stop yourself from looking at her. That was when Nayeon and Jihyo joined your table.

Nayeon shoved your shoulder, "Why aren't you with your girl?"

"She's not my girl," you whispered.

Somehow Momo and Jeongyeon who were bickering the entire time with Jihyo included, who joined in as soon as she sat down, managed to hear and quieted down. They all looked at you, their eyes a mix of pity and sadness. This wasn't anything new to them but it still saddened them to hear the news.

Nayeon had always been supportive of you and Sana. She was the one who introduced you to one another. So she couldn't help but to gently ask, "Why?"

As you remembered all of yesterday's events, Sana whispering to take her back. Holding her hands again. Being wrapped in her arms. Her soft warm lips. Her warm smile and gentle eyes. Being comforted by her. Having her close. The long conversation you had over the phone. The break up. The space she wanted. You felt your chest contort and rip in two.

"I don't know."

"Well, I do know but I just don't want to say."

It was clear what Sana wanted. She made sure of that. You just couldn't explain that to Nayeon and the others without breaking. Thankfully, they seemed to have understood that.

"Hey, we get it. It'll be alright y/n/n." Jeongyeon calmly said as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

"C'mon now let's head to class."

All of you got up and started to head for class.

Throughout the day you dragged yourself from class to class. Trying to forget about Sana. You were failing miserably. You decided to head to the restroom to splash some water on your face. See if that would help.

As you were about to push the restroom door it was suddenly pulled open from the other side. You looked up to find Sana, surprised to see you. Your eyes met and you felt your heart clench. You weren't thinking. Your brain stopped working and your heart started going into overdrive, so you jokingly muttered, "Excuse me...I'm just going in for a quick cry" as you squeezed beside Sana to enter.

Sana quickly turned around and headed towards you. Shutting the door in the process.

You felt a hand take a hold of your wrist pulling you back. You didn't expect Sana to follow you in. You really did feel like crying now.

Sana studied you. You couldn't meet her gaze.

She apologized and you couldn't conjure up a response. You just stood there staring at the floor. Brain still not functioning. Heart still in overdrive, wanting nothing but Sana. Your heart fought with itself inside your ribcage. The hammering and ache screaming to run and stay.

Then she pulled you into her arms. As much as you wanted to cry mere seconds ago you couldn't. Your heart was rushing with a mix of emotions, but the fight inside from earlier had subsided. You just let yourself sink into Sana for the moment. You wanted to kiss her. So you pulled back a little and leaned in. Halfway through you felt Sana's arms begin to come up your shoulders. Getting ready to push you back. It was then you realized you shouldn't, so instead you swiftly glided your head to lean on Sana's shoulder. You couldn't help but let out a defeated sigh. Your heart sunk so low.

A pair of hands lifted to caress the back of your neck. Sana guided your head up and leaned in. The kiss was soft, it was more than a peck but still it felt too short. You had gotten what you wanted, but you didn't know how to feel about that.

Sana pulled back and softly palmed the side of your face caressing you with a sad smile. You tried reciprocating as best as you could, but your smile was much smaller and weaker than Sana's. Then she exited the restroom. Leaving you there. You stood there for a while. You couldn't stop replaying what just happened. You felt so stupid. Lost.

-- End of Flashback --

The sun has fully set. Your thoughts are still filled with Sana. Will she ever come back? It's been at least half a year since then. You still see her around campus but she's always glued to Miyeon's hip. Any and all attempts to get her to talk to you are intercepted by her best friend. Sana also makes an effort in ignoring you. If you pass each other in the hall she practically sprints away with her head down. Or she feigns to be doing something on her phone. Face immensely close to her phone trying to block her face from your sight. If you catch her staring at you she turns away instantly. If she's hanging out with Momo, Nayeon, or any of your other friends she makes an excuse to leave. Never acknowledging your presence. She practically runs from you. It left you dumbfounded the first couple of times. Leaving the others to apologize on Sana's behalf. You couldn't handle the pain all of Sana's actions caused you. So you stopped trying to reach out or get close. You accepted the distance she wanted to create.

Now you just feel a hollow cavern that continues to grow inside your chest as more time passes. At this point your ribcage feels sore from the constant fight and ache your heart has been through. All you could do is sigh as you put out the remaining bud of the cigarette you had lit up. Lazily you brush yourself off to head back inside.

"I'll wait until you're ready."

#twice #twice imagines #twice x fem reader #twice x reader #minatozaki sana #sana x reader #sana x fem!reader #angst #wlw #wlw angst

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matan4il · 6 months ago

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Hi have you seen the video of the 5 female hostages from Nir Oz? I made it a point to not watch any videos from Oct 7 or any of the other hostage videos Hamas publishes. But this one I had to see. And I feel physically sick thinking about what those girls are going through for the last 7 (almost 8) months. The more I think about it the more anger I feel. I am so so disappointed in all these feminists all these female celebrities siding with literal terrorists. Im just so so mad that I cant even put it into words properly.

Have I, Nonnie. -_- We all knew the kidnapping was bad, but it's still not like actually seeing it, right? Even seeing "just" a version that's partly censored (for example, at one point you'll notice there's a body of a girl still in her pajama pants, lying right in front of the girls being taken as hostages, and to preserve the murdered girls' dignity, in accordance with our Jewish value of כבוד המת, whenever the camera is about to show anything identifying of her, the footage cuts off).

Keep in mind, a part of what's so hard about watching the vid isn't just seeing human beings attacked and degraded, that's always awful, but it's especially terrible seeing these girls still in their pajamas, knowing that they were unarmed and weren't trained to fight. I can't stress enough how vulnerable and defenseless they were. Which makes everything worse, but especially seeing the patterns of where they've been bloodied, given that they didn't have any training to put on a fight: around their intimate parts and around the mouth.

BTW, 19 years old Naama Levil mentions in the vid she has a Palestinian friend. She did, she was a peace activist. Her mother said in one interview that a part of what hurts so much is that Naama was victimized exactly by the people she had faith in.

I want to share the vid, I'll just point out that the English subtitles are not completely accurate. One thing is that a terrorist says to one of the girls, "You are more beautiful" (as in, they're choosing which one of them is gonna get which girl, and he decided on her, because he thinks she's "more beautiful" than the other ones), but it's translated as "You are so beautiful." The second thing is that "sabaya" was translated as "the girls who can get pregnant." Which isn't untrue, but we know that Islamist terrorist organizations, like ISIS, use it as a term for sex slaves. Here's a reference to that:

Here's the vid, under the cut.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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elvenbeard · 7 months ago

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Reposting the boyo for a little interest check!

No mysterious third or fourth options, but if you have an opinion not covered by the poll, feel free to leave a reply! :D

I'm asking cause I had fun doodling Kerry and I love doodling stuff for others (and it would be a good excercise for sure too!). AND also I'm obviously asking cause I could use the money xD I'm still paying monthly rates for my current laptop since my old one broke at the start of 2023 and I'd be so happy to finally have that monthly monetary burden off my back xD So I'd open a whole bunch of slots - not sure yet how many (probably between 30-50), and how or when I'd go about working through them (most likely a google form where you submit your ref pic - as these would be simple sketches 100% based off of ref pics). I could also imagine streaming some or all of it, for some additional entertainment value xD

A "not more than 1 hour spent per drawing" kinda deal, or even something like pay what you want style comms. Also yeh, not just Cyberpunk as a fandom obviously, anything goes, OCs as well, (and I'll also draw your mom or your pet if you wanna xD) as long as you have 1 good reference screenshot/photo for me to work with! (obligatory disclaimer that exceptions may apply in a few highly specific cases - when in doubt just ask!)

Would super appreciate some feedback and if you'd reblog this so more people see :D tysm!

(also, my regular comms are also still open btw! link in my pinned post!)

#artists on tumblr #digital art #commissions #commissions open #cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne

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rassicas · 1 year ago

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My tags and other references

Pinned post. Please refer to this before sending me an ask! Note I don't answer every ask I get. I answer voluntarily and often on a whim, but sometimes I'll dig up months-old mail to answer.

First, an obligatory Splatoon Obscure Lore Reference Doc plug. Secondly, please don't DM me looking to start a general conversation about Splatoon or to ask me a Splatoon lore-related question. Put it in the ask box.

#asks is my general tag for asks, but it's a lot to look through. for more specific tags to see if what you want to ask has been answered already...

#splatoon lore - posts that include solid canon info. I'm a bit loose about tagging this.

#splatoon headcanons - posts that contain more speculative/headcanony info. I'm a bit loose about tagging this.

#splatoon translations - posts that involve JP -> ENG translations. I take requests if I find it interesting and reasonable.

#inkling language - posts related to the (deciphered) languages used within the splatoon world. I helped write this publicly available and editable page on inkipedia. I am begging you PLEASE look at the wiki page before asking me anything related to the Inkling language. You do not need to tell me if you've translated some small piece of text either, you can go ahead and add it to the wiki yourself if it's not already there. no im not doing it for you

#splatoon species - any talk of species beyond the standard inklings/octolings/salmonids goes here. NOTE: if you're wanting to ask "does X species exist in the splatoon world?" check the tag or PLEASE look at this list first because it will answer your question. if it's not on the list, it hasn't been mentioned in canon. If you have an ask about marine mammals in splatoon, I have a video essay on that. I won't budge on my stance that they're extinct.

#society - for anything related to society and culture in the splatoon world.

#biology - anything related to inkling/octoling/other splatoon creature biology.

#rotm #octo expansion - story mode-specific asks

#inklings #octarians #octolings #salmonids -species-specific tags

there's also character specific tags like #mr grizz and #off the hook ...ill have to clean these up later.

btw my art tag is #rassicarts. my main for posting funnies and anything not splatoon is @raptorials.

To askers: please note that sometimes I may end up coming off as blunt or rude in my responses. I don't want to be mean but there are a lot of people on the internet who try to talk to me, and sometimes, even to the nice people, I don't have the energy to sugarcoat my words. Please don't take it as ill will if I respond to you in this way. Thanks.

if your ask is just something nice, i don't reply to those, but i see them and appreciate it a lot. thank you

#pinned post #non rebloggable because i will edit this as time goes on and i clean stuff up

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slowd1ving · 4 months ago

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II. RIDING HIGH IN APRIL ･ﾟ FRANCIS MOSSES

"Your usual, Mr Francis Mosses?” you repeat with the same inflection. It has to stay the same. A name to a star will not make it any more personal – it’ll remain the same cold distance away, stay the same burning core of amorphous light, in a fixed set of constellations. It has to. But you’ve overlooked the most salient point. Humans are not stars. There's a reason you stuck with this shitty diner job: routine. So, why the hell does that keep changing for you? warnings + general: amab!reader, nsfw, depression, smoking + unhealthy habits, diner au, trauma, military background (made up unit for doppelgangers) so canon divergence, obsession lowkey BTW this is also posted on ao3 so if there are any doubts about me being the author just comment on any of my fics and I assure you I'll reply on there! (but thank you to those who expressed concern it means a lot)

MISC. MASTERLIST

THAT'S LIFE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

PREVIOUS PART ゜・NEXT PART

‘That’s life (that’s life) I tell you, I can’t deny it.’

It’s a different type of blue hour when it’s thirty minutes before dawn – cleaner than your smoke-filled evenings: filled with hope and a promise of sunlight, rather than a vow of everlasting sin.

Your lungs burn with the cold air. It seems like you’re drowning, but it’s not the same sensation as three years back. This time, all your cells are clamouring for oxygen; scrambling and twisting, unlike the freezing resignation beneath the rain and viscera.

You’re dressed casually: sweats and a shirt that’s tighter than your clinical kitchen jacket. Like a never ending hug, it tightly clasps the muscle forced upon you by the Execution programme. You should feel cold. You are cold, but the surge and flush in adrenaline is something that melts your stone heart and body. In your haste to leave at your colleague’s proclamation of an emergency, it seems you forgot your jacket.

Fatigue eludes you – your breathing is controlled as ever.

Let’s face it – if it weren’t for your shifting galaxy, you would’ve stayed in bed this morning.

This is all his fault.

You’re not sure what you’re doing here, having jogged to the diner getting heckled via landline by your coworker. Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have deigned to answer. After all, the day management of the place is left to your colleague, not you.

“He’s asked for you specifically.”

You can hear the satisfied grin through the landline. When you press her for more details, she hangs up on you, and you’re left seething with an almost broken cord clenched tight in your fist.

Who the hell is she talking about?

As far as you knew, the boss had gone and fucked off to somewhere in Scandinavia two years ago. Unless he’s hauled his geriatric ass back here, you sincerely doubt he’s the one requesting your presence.

But if you’re being honest, you don’t mind this sudden disruption to your schedule.

Like molasses, sleep would’ve pulled you under – sticky and sweet – for the rest of the day to escape your thoughts. That’s your daily routine: an endless struggle with your mind.

With this, at least the war in your brain has stilled. It’s a dangerous calm, one that threatens to flow out of control at the slightest ripple. The waters are growing agitated – it’s only a matter of time before you’re pulled under.

Make no mistake, you will be dragged to the depths eventually. That’s not something you, nor anyone, can prevent. Sleep cannot hope to fight it. You cannot hope to ever escape it.

Your head aches.

It’s freezing. You’re slowly becoming more frigid, and your hands are beginning to shake. It was a mistake, coming out here. You don’t know what’s caused the change.

No, you do know. You just can’t bear to keep acknowledging the catalyst behind it.

It’s not the run that’s winded you – your breath stops ragged as you fumble in your pockets for the Old Gold that should be there. That small, plastic-wrapped carton should be there, but your pockets are sorely empty.

Shit, shit.

Your ears are ringing. Just like the death knell ringing for your friends and subordinates, it keeps ringing and ringing and tolling and tolling. Those reverberations permeated through sinew, through flesh and vessel – only contributing to the staggering tremors attacking your palms.

That alizarin blue is fading from your vision, and there’s nothing you can do.

Numbness spreads awful quick through your extremities after all; it hurtles whip-fast through your spine, pressing you against icy, rough brick.

“Ha,” your breath comes in the form of hoarse, faint heaving.

You’re not sure what comes next. Once the star begins exploding, it’s eventually reduced to nothingness. It’s theorised that even its very atoms disintegrate eventually.

What’s going on?

Why aren’t you disappearing like those husks of particles?

You– you’re an empty shell.

What’s that infernal fire spreading through your arms?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper with the finality of resignation. You’re not falling anymore. You give up.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

He was nowhere mere moments ago – there was nothing but empty void on all sides. Not a star, not even a singular atom to initiate collision and the chain of energy. He’d been nowhere, but now he’s everywhere.

That hushed cadence. Those warm palms. That tired look in his eyes, softening as you met his gaze.

“You okay there?”

Mr Francis Mosses is closer to you than he’d ever been. Each callous on his hands you can feel pressed through your thin shirt, they burn against the permafrost of your skin.

You’re too close. Those soot-black eyelashes – you can count them individually at this proximity. This distance is infinitesimal; faint traces of his cologne invade your senses, lingering beneath that milky, powdery smell. You shouldn’t notice this. You shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be feeling that feeling in your stomach.

This is dangerous.

“Yeah,” you manage to form a coherent syllable. A nuclear fission chain begins in your throat. “I’m alright.”

“Mm,” he acknowledges. His hands are still supporting you, and he’s not letting go. You can distinctly hear each pulse as it sounds out in his ribcage, while simultaneously hearing each breath as it hitches and tumbles in his lungs. At your sides, curled into tight spirals are your fists.

You’re tense. Anyone can see it – the spring making up your flesh and bones is about to reach its plastic limit. You won’t be able to come back from this.

The centripetal force making up your galaxy – your routine – is dissipating.

He’s the cause of it.

His arms wobble when you go limp, and suddenly you’re in his space – face pressed right into his trapezius, breathing in the temperature of his skin and the woody scent of aftershave.

That’s new.

He wraps around you, and you clutch the back of his shirt with enough force to crush a skull. He’s alive, pulse wildly careening through his flesh and sinew like a hummingbird. Furiously, he’s alive. His touch is searing as you press impossibly closer and closer.

That gravitational pull can’t be from a mere supermassive black hole.

He’s the origin – the very centre of the universe. All matter wants to be part of it; your cells tear into his, your heart sings out its mournful song, just to be a part of him.

“Hey,” his breath is scorching across your ear. “You’re here, you’re alright.”

The murmurs are clumsy, tripping themselves up in a rush to escape his torrid lips.

I’m here.

I’m alright.

It may just be true. Where your hands connect to his latissimus dorsi through his crisp white shirt, they’ve stopped shaking.

And you don’t know it, perhaps you never will, but that small, plastic-wrapped carton of gaseous aurum has been stored neatly away in the back of your mind for the past few minutes now.

A throat clears.

Your colleague’s face sports an amused expression, while your eyes convey a well-timed fuck you, as the rest of your face is buried in his shirt.

When you pull back slightly, with her hand now on your back as well, you swear you feel Mr Francis Mosses clamp around your biceps like a vice. Resisting. An unstoppable force. His expression is worried, but when his exquisite brown eyes slide from you to your coworker, you think you can see the hint of a glare in them. You can’t be too sure.

In the ultramarine light, there might be a hint of red on his face. You can’t be too sure of that either.

“Sorry, I wouldn’t have called you in if he said he didn’t know you,” she explains sheepishly, but your ears are too full of a roaring heartbeat and your focus is entirely elsewhere. “We’ve been having issues with our milk provider, so we’ve switched to his company. It wouldn’t have been such an issue if our menu wasn’t half milkshakes.”

Her eyes are full of apology, despite her grumbling. She’s known you since your Execution Squad days, operating the calls and speaking to victims. She knows exactly how it feels – the panic, the suffocation, the lingering taste of tobacco that you can never really escape.

But you can’t focus on that either.

His thumbs are rubbing tiny, fiery circles onto your flesh – unconsciously, you think, as your eyes observe the slight anger in his face.

No, wait. You blink in surprise. Since when are you able to discern that face?

“I’ll wait inside so you can help me with the contract,” she scratches the back of her head, nonplussed when you don’t reply. “Take your time.”

She leaves, and you feel the origin of the universe relax. The molten, rigid singularity sighs – the heavens shift in response.

“Sorry for taking up so much of your time.” He’s working, yet you’ve taken that away by giving in to your weakness. Shame bubbles in your throat, and you wish you could repeat this morning all over again and do it right just so you could avoid inconveniencing him.

“Don’t apologise for that,” his voice is low, strung through with a hoarse fatigue. There’s something else clouding it, though, a sort of tightness that reminds you of anger. But he’s not angry, not anymore, you don’t think.

What is it?

He pulls you back into him, clutching at you as though you’re the lifeline instead of him being yours.

What is it?

“Mr Francis Mosses,” you breathe, but your arms wrap around him tightly once more.

What is it?

“I’d give up all my days to help you like this.”

The words are hushed, too hushed. They’re not meant to be for your ears, but your senses have been honed to a razor-sharp edge and your hearing is the sharpest blade of them all.

You’ve identified that strain of his voice, so parallel to anger.

Worry.

He’s worried.

That realisation burns you more fiercely than anything you’ve ever felt before.

You give in to the torturous exhilaration.

You lose yourself in the warmth.

Just for a bit.

‘I thought of quitting, baby, but my heart just ain’t gonna buy it.’

When he comes in those blue evenings, he brings the stardust that you can never spot in the sky. There’s no sun. There’s no moon, either. There are only the thick clouds that only let the most precocious blue through, and the power lines that cut straight through them.

Over these three years, the only stars that you’ve seen are the twinkling remnants left in high-rise office buildings in the far city. You’ve seen the glimmers in diamond-encrusted watches, seen the shine on the record-player knobs you polish, seen the glitter in the dirty cents handed over the counter. These are not real stars, however.

He brings the excruciating stardust, all bottled up in flesh and woven through in his capillaries.

Today is no different.

You don’t need the stars that are light-years away. Proxima Centauri, I don’t care about you. Tens of thousands of Kelvin – but they might as well be as freezing as the vacuum they orbit in. They’re cold points to you, dots of light that you can only see in encyclopaedias and the thick books customers bring in on occasion. These celestial bodies aren’t meant to be in a greasy diner – even mere phantoms of them are rare to spot.

He’s warmer than any star. He’s closer than any star. He’s comprised of the universe itself.

“What would you like today, Mr Francis Mosses?”

Your very own galaxy. It appears nightly, much better than those lousy light shows that never appear in the thick fog of this polluted city.

The panic of this morning has been long-forgotten. All gone, when you look in his mellow eyes. All gone.

“Your recommendation,” he requests. He’s derailed your routine once more. “And double that.”

For the first time, you’re late in lighting a smoke. That’s not your fault, of course. It’s not. It really isn’t, not when he pulls your arm to sit you opposite him, nor when you let him, nor when you miss the warmth of his hand as he retracts it.

The steaming food lies as the Rubicon between you. Who will cross it first?

You wait, tongue poised between your teeth.

His hair is as messy as ever. Briefly, you wonder how it would feel beneath your calloused fingertips.

There’s no response yet. You watch a little longer: a slight tremor as his throat bobs, lips pulled in nervousness, and eyes that dart to you, to the food, to the wall and everywhere in between.

You lied about that last bit, by the way. Those tired, glassy eyes are focused solely on you at the moment. His darting eyes are actually your own: focused on him, his tapping fingers on the black reflective table, the steam particles between the two of you.

“Are you feeling better?” It’s a simple question, devoid of any exhausted hum. It takes everything out of him, as though he’s practised a million ways of saying it and he’s still messed it up. His next breath is deep.

“Yes?” You don’t mean it as a question, but the rising of the syllable from your larynx belies your confusion. Of course you’re all right – and you don’t mean this in a patronising manner. Of course you’re alright, when the building suffocation was replaced with a suffocation of another kind.

A balmy, soothing sort. The previous drowning was a struggle; you gave into it fighting, with a snarl on your lips and a shattering spirit. But who wouldn’t ease into the other asphyxiation? In that honey-sweet warmth, you’d readily renounce your soul.

“Yes,” you quickly repeat. This is a first: considering a customer’s feelings as you attempt to avoid a misunderstanding. “Much better, Mr Mosses.”

You don’t know why you avoid his first name.

It seems he doesn’t know either; those tranquil brows furrow momentarily, before he gestures to the second portion of food.

“Will you eat with me?”

You give in too easily to the deception, especially when he adds your name onto the end of his question. It’s like a challenge, almost.

“I thought about asking you directly,” he bites into the sandwich. Chews. Swallows. You’re slightly entranced by the movement of his throat. Human windpipes are so fragile, after all, in comparison to the imitation. “Mm, then I got nervous.”

If he was nervous, what were you?

“Don’t worry,” you say blithely, but that’s not your intention at all. You don’t want to be callous, and that surprises you once more.

He always seems to coax a novel reaction from you.

“Don’t worry – I wouldn’t refuse you,” you repeat. It’s a little quieter, a little more honest about how your heart sways. You don’t think you’ve ever sounded so heartfelt.

“You mean that?”

His tone shifts; a note lower, a pitch you wouldn’t have detected if you hadn’t specifically trained for this. You didn’t think of your response as particularly special, but it seemed he’d taken it as an invitation.

You don’t mind that. Then again, you don’t mind his actions that should annoy you, had they been done by anybody else.

“Yes. I’ll eat with you anytime.”

When you take a bite of the sandwich, you finally cross the Rubicon.

You don’t know anything anymore. The routine, the precious universes you shaped – they’ve all been scattered by the two warm palms of a single man. The object of your rage is sitting in front of you, yet there’s no actual fury filling in the preconceived compartment.

There’s amiability in one neat box. In the next, curiosity overflows and spills everywhere. Weaving through them all, however, is a strange substance you can’t identify. It’s warm.

It’s warm, where there had previously only been ice.

The strawberry taste lingering on your tongue is exquisite.

It’s odd. Only after the dishes are soaking in the sink do you remember the pack in your apron pocket. Only when you turn around do you realise he’s still in the booth. Only when you spot his face do you notice you’re no longer feeling the same surge of adrenaline right before you smoke.

You light the stick on the stovetop dispassionately.

When the crisp blue air greets you, he’s in your shadow. How bizarre.

It’s even more strange when he doesn’t leave to go to his small, compact van. He… remains.

No, he does go back to his van. You watch him, sweet plumes hazing from your lips and fingertips. You can see the contraction of his tendons, each muscle moving seamlessly. No, not seamlessly. There’s a bit of a wobble – from fatigue, perhaps. No, that’s not right either.

Have you always made so many mistakes when reading someone?

There’s a lack of drag that you’d expect. He’s always tired, so the slight pause in his gait is something natural to him. Instead, his feet are hesitant, as though he’s jittery.

This time, he comes back.

Your mouth opens slightly.

He’s never done this before.

That coat from before, he wraps it snugly around you. You didn’t even know you were shivering. He’s meeting your gaze, but his brows are furrowed and he wears a weak smile with it.

“Ah,” he mumbles slightly as your cigarette falls to the gravel between the two of you. It’s fine – it’s almost been burnt to a stub regardless. You step on it – thus bridging the chasm between you two. At this distance, he’s shorter than you are. You’ve been aware of it, but this is the first time you’ve truly felt it.

He’s fastening his coat around you, but you can feel the trembling of his hands.

“You looked cold.”

He’s so considerate, you realise. Even this morning, he went out of his way to help you. Even now, when he’s uncomfortable, he’s thinking of you.

“What about you?” you breathe out. Your breath condenses in white plumes, and you think it’s a prettier sight than smoke. “Aren’t you cold, Mr Francis Mosses?”

Those warm eyes soften into liquid. There’s a slight crimson in his ears, a tiny hitch in his breath, and a shake in his shoulders.

“No,” he answers honestly. It must be honest, for though his voice is clear, he looks away bashfully. He’s bared his heart, while yours is still locked away in its box. “I don’t get cold when I’m with you.”

What a coincidence, you want to say.

Neither do I.

But you’re not him. You don’t get to run words parallel to that beating organ’s desires.

You look away.

You shouldn’t be allowed to say that either, you also want to add.

Inexplicably, your heart is beating far too fast for it to be considered healthy. In fact, it might even be arrhythmia. That’s serious.

“I–” You begin your sentence, but you hadn’t planned to actually open your mouth. This is new, too.

“You should take better care of yourself.” The words stumble clumsily from your lips. Not everyone can have that buttery smoothness like he has. This is the universal truth – you’ve always avoided prolonged conversations for that reason precisely. So, why? Why now? Why does your pulse push these syllables from your careless vocal strings?

“I will.”

The weakness in his smile is gone. It’s fond, and you can’t bear it.

“You’ll catch a cold,” you warn.

And you won’t be at the diner if that happens.

That’s strange. Why are you thinking that way?

Right. It’s him. He’s the catalyst.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His teeth are so bright. When he smiles, he’s got the jewels of the sea in his mouth. Bright pearls – and here you thought he’d only have mastery over the stars.

“I’m serious.” You let yourself indulge in the smell of him on the coat. Your eyes are closed. You don’t think you could bear seeing his face more. “Don’t get sick.”

“Don’t worry so much,” he exhales – the trip and jump in the sound turns it into suppressed laughter.

You can’t get sick. You want to say that. You’d shout it for the world to hear, but that would be too troublesome – and like you mentioned previously, you’re not like him. Your heart is small and cold and closed off in a tight box.

Please, you can’t get sick.

But for him, you’d do it.

‘And if I didn’t think it was worth one single try, I’d jump right on a big bird and then I’d fly.’

He’s tricked you.

Each time you think you’ve fit Mr Francis Mosses into a neat routine with clear expectations and a place in the galaxy, he evades that and tricks you. Then, he tricks you for a second and a third time, for good measure.

Otherwise, why would you be counting down the hours until he gets here?

When you’re ringing up Miss Mia Stone’s order at half-past twelve, you’re thinking of him and his soft hair. When you’re taking Mr Henryk Jamesons’ money at quarter to five, you’re picturing those molten brown eyes. And when you’re separating the food into two compact takeout boxes for Mr Stephen Rudboys, you’re imagining those soft lips, poised to say the most unexpected things.

That’s also new. Since when did you focus on his lips?

“Thanks, have a great day,” Mr Rudboys waves at you mechanically, and you almost unconsciously reply with ‘don’t get sick’. You feel like an idiot.

You feel swindled.

You feel tricked, and it’s all his fault. He evidently has no respect for the labours of a diner worker, if he’s entering your mind while you’re serving other clients.

Why does everything have to boil down to him?

It always comes back to Mr Francis Mosses. You think it was a wise decision to be wary of his gravitational pull. If you’re not careful, he might just cause a wormhole and shoot right through you.

With others, you’re thinking of him.

Even when you’re alone, you swear you can smell that powdery, milky smell lingering.

It’s not fair.

Does he think of you too? When he’s under blue, fog-filled skies like these, does he think of the smoke you exhale? When he’s with others, can he recall your awkward attempts at conversation? When he’s alone, does he imagine you there with him?

Do I occupy your thoughts like you occupy mine?

It’s ridiculous. Really, it’s laughable. You’re a speck on this planet, while he’s the centre of everything.

That would be your usual train of thought.

Humans are not stars.

But you don’t get to think even that, because you can hear the familiar hum of an engine and you know it could only be him that’s here.

And you’re laughing – laughing at yourself, laughing at your foolishness, laughing at just how ludicrous you’re being. To think, he’d made himself so at home in the ordered compartments of your mind that your very capillaries are magnetised to him.

You’re attuned to him – compass pointing straight. Not north – you couldn’t care less about the ridiculous iron centre of Earth. The arrow points at him.

For the first time, you’re inside the diner when he comes through – still beaming, hand pressed to your miserable face and wretched laughter ringing flush against the mellow tones of Frank Sinatra.

He pauses in the doorway. Though you hear him – how could you not – the sounds that bubble up from your diaphragm refuse to cease.

It’s only when you notice that gaze in his eyes that you stop – warmer, more liquid than anything you’ve ever seen. Those irises are darker, too – impossibly dilated.

“Mr Francis Mosses,” you greet him. There’s a smile on your lips. You don’t think he’s ever seen you smile like that. “What will it be today?”

Dazed. You can read his face clear as day – and somehow, somehow, that makes you incredibly conscious of yourself, of him and of every minute action between the two of you.

“I’ll take anything you give me,” he murmurs. His voice is hoarse, and not in the fatigued way, but in the ‘I’m losing my composure’ way. Carmine bleeds into his skin – you can feel the same carmine thrumming ceaselessly through your veins.

Fuck.

This man, is he your Achilles’ heel? Your hamartia, your flaw above anything.

No, it can’t be. You’re full of flaws – he’s the only good thing about you. If anything, you’re the person who’s sure to drag him down.

“Right.”

He sits at the counter today, perched on the cerise-red stools and propped up on an exhausted elbow. Yet, his eyes are clearer – sharper – than your usual expectation. They’re honed on you: your movements, your actions, you. He’s watching you, and nobody else.

“Did someone make you laugh?”

His tone is different from his usual one; it lacks its usual enervation, and there’s a rougher burr to it that you can’t quite place. When you look up from where you’re assembling his wrap, there’s a shadow in his eyes.

“Yes.” You did. For the first time in years, you laughed. All thanks to your azure singularity – him .

There’s more he wants to say. Those lips of his part minutely, but you’ll never know what he wanted to say.

“Hm?” And for the first time, you really want to know the potential: his thoughts before they leave his lips.

“Forget it,” he exhales, looking anywhere but you. You slide his food over the counter; there’s a tinge of disappointment in your action. Disappointment, huh…

You wonder if you’ll have enough boxes to sort out these different feelings.

He doesn’t speak as he eats. It’s only when you slide onto a neighbouring stool with a milkshake for yourself that he looks up in surprise.

“You…” he murmurs – there’s an eternal question concealed in that singular word.

“You feeling alright?” you ask in mild concern.

“What would you do if I said I wasn’t?” he breathes, and you look at him. You study his expression: his wide, sleepless eyes, his tousled hair, his lips pressed together. There’s a faint trembling in his hands. That won’t do.

“I’d ask about it further, Mr Francis Mosses,” you reply seriously. “If it’s an emotional issue, I’ve been told I’m a very good sandbag. I can listen and take beatings simultaneously.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” his raised eyebrows suggest he’s mildly taken aback, but he presses on. “But there’s one thing you could do for me.”

“Which is?” you prompt.

He takes a deep breath.

“Call me Francis.”

Oh.

He always exceeds my expectations.

“Please,” he almost begs. Who are you to say no to the one who decimated your universe?

“I think I’ll go crazy if you don’t.”

You don’t think you’re meant to hear that last bit – it’s muttered so softly that you think he’s unaware that these are his words.

There’s a maddening rhythm to your heartbeat. You don’t want it to ever end.

“Francis.” Those two syllables creep out carefully. This is a first – you don’t remember the last time a name wasn’t carefully framed by honorifics and made impersonal. Francis.

“Yes?” he replies breathlessly. It’s so fucking intimate: his pupils are blown out, bottom lip wobbling with a slight sheen on them, hands shaking around a cheap napkin. All because of you. It’s his name you’re saying, but it’s your lips it’s falling from. Yours.

You want to turn his thoughts on their head – just like he’s flipped your world upside down.

“Francis.” It’s almost a whisper – not quite. There’s laughter seeping into the name; rich amusement drips from it. You’re delighted.

How can one man make you feel so much?

At the sound of your joy, his scarlet flush bleeds into his neck. Before, he’d met your gaze so boldly each time – irises honed right on you. But this – his face is exquisite right now. Those glazed-over eyes evade your stare. He’s looking anywhere but you: breathing spiralling out of control, teeth clamping desperately over those soft lips.

And you’re grinning, teeth flashing neon and that blue taste on your tongue.

Have you ever felt so light?

There’s laughter spilling over, and his eyes snap back to yours.

“Francis,” you rasp. “Don’t ever change.”

Keep surprising me.

Stay right here.

When he takes your hand and holds it in both of his, it feels like a promise. It lasts only a moment – but you swear you experience several lives within that singular gesture.

There’s that blazing flush on his face.

You hope he’s feeling as warm as you are.

“I won’t,” he says, and the heavens align themselves once more.

‘I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king.’

Anticipation makes way to expectation.

Francis.

Each muscle, every organ, all of the cells in your body – they’re all waiting. Sure, you’ve waited before. You’ve waited for the next mission, you’ve waited for your paycheck, you’ve waited for your new gun to be issued.

You’ve waited to tear down doppelgängers.

You’ve waited a long time for revenge.

But that burning feeling doesn’t feel like the balmy heat that traipses carefreely within your vessels. It’s a dancing, delicate thing.

You’ve seen the ballet, once. There was a doppelgänger amongst the dancers – movements bolder than any of the others, freer and more unrestrained. Wilder. You almost felt bad about putting a bullet through its eye, but duty called and you weren’t about to abandon the fury within your heart for something as mundane as admiration.

You don’t know why you’re thinking about it.

You don’t know why your heartbeat is behaving so intrepidly, but you suppose you’ve lost enough humanity for your body to develop such characteristics.

It’s strange. Really, it’s so strange you might end up laughing again.

Francis.

He’s got you so easily in his palm. If he asked you for it, you think you’d take the fist-sized organ from its receptacle nestled between your lungs and present it to him on a silver platter. You’d wipe away the congealed blood on his hands with a rough thumb and kiss them better with your poisonous mouth.

You aren’t a poet.

You’ve been a soldier and a pawn, so all you know and all you may ever know is the metallic, coppery stench of carmine – it follows in your shadow and stains your footsteps. Your hands are covered in it, and will be forever. It doesn’t matter – you’d give your body over and over and over and over. Parallel universes will have the same outcome for you. There’s no changing that.

You’re a soldier, so you’re not allowed to wax poetic about him – any letters you write, any flowery prose will be obscured by the heavy darkness you drag within you.

But for once, you’d like to try your hand at words. And if your hand is still too stained with that bleeding arterial red, you’ll write it with your body.

Just once, you’d like your limbs in this universe to be used for something more pretty than killing. Even though it’s an imitation, red is still red and blood is still blood.

You aren’t a poet, so the most you’ll get is this expectation. You’re a simple creature. Words elude you, but your emotions are too fleeting to be caged in by prose and logic.

It’s so ordinary.

It’s all you ever wanted.

But he doesn’t come tonight.

Tonight, you’re left with that awful blue fog as your paramour and Sinatra as your entertainment.

It was foolish, holding on to this expectation. Did you forget already?

He is one to go beyond them.

This is one of the few times you’ve ached so sharply. It’s a clean slice through your heart – not like the blunt bang of a pistol, but a masterful cut that draws out the pain better than a bullet ever could.

It hurts. It really does, and it’s all your fault for feeling hopeful.

You changed your mindset, and it only came back to pay you in tears.

But you don’t cry.

It hurts, but the plumes of smoke you exhale taste better than the salt.

If anything, you’re cherishing the white-hot pain. Maybe you haven't completely lost your humanity.

It’s long laid dormant, but this agony is sweeter than honey.

Still, you wish for everything to just disappear. If only for a moment.

It hurts. Go away, please. Go away.

You’re an idiot, and when you bury your face in your hands, you barely feel the burn from the cigarette.

‘I’ve been up and down and over and out and I know one thing.’

You’re unusually sullen the next day. There’s the biting pressure you feel from yesterday, but that’s ridiculous. Francis has no obligation to visit you daily, and your disappointment is your own fault.

It’s alright.

You can’t bring yourself to blame him.

You feel so stupid, though.

Never have you felt so small. With revenge, the burning consumes you and you don’t feel hopeless. There’s a goal to strive for, after all. But with this, there’s nothing you can do.

“What will it be, Francis?”

Your words come out tired. They match the fatigue in his eyes; something you’d normally be noting with wonderment. Today, the excitement doesn’t come.

No, to be more precise, you tamp down on it harshly before it can come up to the surface.

“Mm.” He acknowledges your question, but he’s staring you down dazedly and you can’t help but feel slightly wobbly inside. “Something light. I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

Right. You tap the pager unconsciously – it seems him staying away yesterday wasn’t out of his own volition. You don’t know what you would’ve done if it had been otherwise; but then again, you’ve forced those feelings back into a little box, locked tight thrice. Inescapable. Impenetrable.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You give him a weak smile, and the awkward fumbling of well wishes seems to have done the trick – his soft smile back washes the insecurity away without a trace.

It’s when you’re cooking that it happens. While your hands drip red from strawberries, you hear footsteps. His footsteps – the ones you memorised. There’s that same gait, that same tired drag of his sole.

And you force down your smile.

He’s never done this either.

You’d think he was just walking around the diner to pass the time, but his footsteps get closer and closer, until–

His arms wrap around you from the back.

You freeze.

Out of all the things you thought he’d do, this isn’t one of them. His face presses into the juncture of your neck, and he’s breathing you in. He’s warm, so warm, and your heart finally begins its fervent race once more.

If he squeezed you any tighter, you would’ve thought he was going for a suplex.

His fingers trace from your hips, up your abdominal muscles, before settling on your solar plexus – each digit splayed out as though his palms were the sun and his fingers the rays. How fitting.

You should push him off. You should, but there’s something about him you can’t resist.

“Francis,” you whisper, and it’s like that final barrier in the dam finally breaks. You give in to the raging tide of emotions. Let yourself be swept up in this turbulent river. Don’t worry about a thing.

“Mm,” he hums, lips just brushing against the stiff fabric of your clinical jacket. And you can feel their reverberations echoing to your very bone marrow – you don’t think you’ve ever heard your pulse so cleanly, so clearly. “I missed you.”

The admission takes all the strength out of you.

I missed you too.

I missed you, so much I couldn’t bear it.

Perhaps that’s the reason. Perhaps that’s why you could never push him away.

Fuck.

You really are a fool.

So, why doesn’t that upset me?

‘Each time I find myself flat on my face, I pick myself up and get back in the race.’

It’s a sleepless night. Just when you think those sweet molasses are going to drag you under, they slip from your fingers and leave you tossing and turning.

“I missed you.”

You can still feel his fingers on your body.

When you close your eyes, you can feel him, pressing his lips against your neck and holding you close to him.

Back then as a Captain, there were people who needed you. Of course there were – you were a pawn, a soldier, someone who had a duty and kept to it. You were a resource: easily replaceable. In fact, it was a miracle you’d lasted the year.

But him.

You bury your face in your pillow. There’s a furious beat to your pulse. You can feel it everywhere: your head, your legs and even your stomach.

There’s no doubt about it.

You like Francis.

You like him, so much so that you’re running out of boxes to put your emotions in.

It doesn’t come as a surprise when you’re haggard at work, even more so than yesterday. The day is both sluggish and hare-like, racing away from you yet constantly disturbing you with its slow crawl. It’s the adrenaline and dopamine; they’re clashing and twisting and dancing against themselves. You honestly don’t know how your hypothalamus manages to outshine itself every time.

The familiar hum of the engine comes when the fog up in the sky is still white. It’s earlier than usual, but Francis has never been one to stick within the lines you’ve put him in.

“Francis.”

The shadows under his eyes are darker than before.

“I’m not here for food today,” he exhales. “Just let me spend time with you here.”

That’s a first.

You’re a little lost. When the boss trained you on how to deal with customers, he never mentioned the tricky ones like these.

“Ah,” you mumble. “Sure.”

“I also brought you something.” He’s smiling with his eyelids lowering – it’s not an expression you’ve ever seen him make. Fuck. You can’t resist him.

He’s already taken up too much space in your universe.

There’s a small plastic bag he takes out of his coat pocket. It crackles lightly against the glass of a milk bottle. “Strawberry cookies. Made them myself.”

You don’t think you’ve ever received such a heartfelt gift.

When he places them in your outstretched palm, all you can think about is the roaring heat of his hand.

There’s a few flecks of sanguine on his crisp white shirt. When he notices you looking, he laughs awkwardly.

“I cut myself at work,” he explains, adjusting the hazy buttons. That’s a new habit; of course he’s filled with mysteries. Since he’s Francis.

Gently, you take his wrist and press your lips to the fabric concealing it.

“What–” he chokes. “–what are you doing?”

“I’m kissing it better,” you reply. There’s something different about you tonight as well. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but it seems you’ve become more bold in the time you’ve met with him. “Do you want me to stop?”

It seems you’ve been intoxicated by him.

“No,” he stammers. “Please don’t.”

Perhaps he’s been intoxicated by you too.

It’s only when you’ve placed your lips on the tips of his fingers that you finally pull back and study his face. He’s completely flushed now, with his hair messed up and eyes wide.

You take a bite out of the biscuit. There’s strawberries on your tongue: sweet, tangy, perfectly suited to the buttery crumble. It’s warm, as if it’s been held close to his heart. The thought makes you smile.

It’s perfect.

This man…

When you stand from the stool to brush the crumbs from your fingers, he stands with you.

When you head into the kitchen area, he follows you.

When you attempt to move past him after washing your hands at the sink, he stops you by holding onto your wrist. You could break free if you tried, but you won’t. Because it’s him.

“Francis…” you trail off. There’s a certain look in his eyes – it’s impossibly tender.

“Tell me you’re feeling the same as me,” he pleads, pressing your palm flat against his heart. His pulse is wild, spinning out of control like that dancer you saw all those years ago.

Your own heartbeat roars its own feral beat; it’s a careful syncopation with his.

You didn’t know his human heart could feel that way.

It’s not supposed to, not like yours does.

That heaviness – you don’t hear it with humanity.

Your thumb brushes over those soft lips; that look in his eyes speaks of immeasurable hunger.

“Please,” he whines, and you surge.

Your mouth is on his, and he tastes like the strawberries you’ve just eaten. Heady. Sweet. He may have cornered you between him and the sink, but you’re in control – the two of you know it.

Perhaps that’s why his lips part so easily.

He’s warm – so warm. You eagerly devour him, pressing a hand to his nape and another to his waist while you take his small hisses in stride. He’s forced to tilt his head up; hands scramble for purchase in the dips of your back, seeking refuge as you roughly press into him.

He’s intoxicating. Even when the metallic taste enters your mouth, he’s intoxicating.

Even when you can no longer smell that milky, powdery smell on him. There’s no woody aftershave either.

Even when you hear the sound of a familiar hum.

He stands, frozen in the doorway.

Your lips are on someone who looks like him.

And you’re looking directly at him.

Why does he look like that?

His hands are shaking, and he just looks so lost. He’s panting, as though he’s just run here – and his face is covered with small scrapes that can’t just have been from work.

And why are you feeling this bitter pain?

You knew you could never have Francis – his world was far too removed from yours, and staying with you is dangerous. You’re cursed, doomed to stay in this intransient state.

“No–” he chokes out. “Get away from that thing!”

Why does it hurt so much?

You thought you’d be alright giving up on him.

He can’t enter your blood-soaked world.

He can’t.

It hurts. It hurts so much.

Your heart’s breaking into pieces, but you’re still holding onto his doppelgänger and that creature’s lips are still on yours.

Francis…

It was nice. This little dream was nice.

It was nice, but there are tears in your eyes and a wry smile on your lips.

It’s ending. That fake, brief happiness is crumbling away.

“Get away!”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The doppelgänger’s voice finally drops to its natural pitch – low, a harsh hum reverberating through your sternum. “You caught on now?”

No. You hadn’t caught on just now.

You had a feeling from the very beginning.

‘That’s life (that’s life) that’s life and I can’t deny it.’

All the celestial bodies will go cold one day. It is simply a matter of waiting for the universe to turn into a graveyard of giants, undisturbed for the rest of eternity.

There’s a gun in the cabinet behind you. If one examines it closely, you can see distinct initials that match someone working at the diner. But, surely not, right? None of your customers have suspected a thing.

Faintly, you hear your name being called from somewhere along the periphery.

“You need to get back, he’s dangerous!”

You pull out your gun, unlocking the mechanism with a swift click. It’s a standard-issue, given to the lieutenant-class and above – a heavy thing, unauthorised to be carried by any civilian. The bullets inside are deadlier than any ammunition used in human warfare.

You didn’t think you’d ever use it again.

But today, Francis will be joining the graveyard of celestial bodies. There, he’ll eventually disintegrate – not an atom will remain.

“Francis, stay right there.” Your words are cold. Don’t you see? This is my world, Francis.

This is my danger.

This is what follows in my shadow.

Don’t come near me.

“Oh? I didn’t think you were ex-military,” the doppelgänger’s voice rumbles in its chest. “Give up. You’re no match for me. We’ve evolved past puny human capabilities.”

You didn’t think you’d ever do this again.

Not again.

Tears blur your vision, but you don’t need to rely on your eyes to kill.

You need to shoot him. You need to shoot him because you love him, because he’s still alive and this thing is trying to replace him. You need to pull the trigger.

Francis.

I love you.

This pain – it’s too much to bear.

When you squeeze the trigger, you repeat it like a mantra.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”

And there’s a smile on the doppelgänger’s lips as you shoot him, like he’s won.

There’s blood everywhere. Splashed on the pans, coating the griddle, sliding and congealing on the bright neon signs that light up the diner in fluorescent red. Brain matter is cleaved in thousands of pieces, and you resist the urge to throw up.

Red is still red, and blood is still blood.

When the doppelgänger’s body begins to bubble, you move without a trace of hesitation – sliding across the counter with the agility of an athlete. You’re crying – crying as you take Francis out into the pouring rain. You’re crying, as you’re covering his body with yours – behind you, the doppelgänger’s body finally blows up and shards of the diner stick to you and maul your back. But it’s fine – he’s still alive. Your universe is living – breathing beneath you. He's warm – a human warmth, with a human pulse and a human smell.

“You–” he murmurs, drenched in rainwater and the blood covering you. His eyes are widened, but he doesn’t look scared. He’s not scared of you.

And you’re high, high on adrenaline and the sight of him.

He’s alive.

He’s not dead.

You protected him.

‘Many times I thought of cutting out, but my heart just won’t buy it.’

The D.D.D will get here eventually. That’s something you’ve come to accept as truth, which is why you don’t care about phoning them when the smoke rising from the place will alert them regardless.

You pull him into an alleyway near your apartment. There’s a howling storm and a torrential downpour, but you don’t care about any of that.

He’s warm. He’s warm, and he’s alive.

“You’re real, right?” you murmur. Your drenched palms press into his face. He’s staring at you, tears gathering on his lash line and a shake in his bottom lip. “Francis.”

“I’m real,” he breathes, and it’s like nothing else exists in the universe. Nothing but him and you in suspended animation, within all the space-time. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I’m not going anywhere.

Has anyone said something like that to you before?

There’s no fear in his eyes.

What a foolish promise.

But maybe you’re the fool for feeling the way you do about that vow.

You’re covered in blood, but he’s looking right past that.

“Did you know–” he chokes out, looking away. “–that he was a doppelgänger?”

Yes. I knew, and I kissed him despite knowing that.

Francis, I can’t be with you.

Those words race through your head, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. You can’t bring yourself to lie, either. Instead, you nod – and you can’t meet his eyes when you do so.

“Why were you with him like that, then?” His thumb traces your jaw, mirroring the actions of your hands just moments prior. He sounds heartbroken, and you can feel tears blurring your vision once more. “Don’t tell me he’s better than me.”

“Francis,” you plead against the storm, against the deafening wind that presses against your words. “I can’t be with you.”

There’s a pause. Water soaks the two of you, but neither moves.

“Who decided that?” He steps closer, and you swallow. His arms wrap tightly around you, and his head’s buried against your chest. He’s angry, you realise. He’s angry, because he knows exactly why you decided on that dream.

He’s pressed skin-to-skin against you – fabric drenched through and ice-cold – and there’s a searing heat that threatens to envelope you whole. Let it, you think. I’ll give in for you.

“Who decided that?” he repeats, mouth moving against your collarbone. If you weren’t against a wall, you think you might’ve collapsed by now.

“Francis,” you falter. More. “Don’t you see how dangerous it is with me?” Say no. Be with me despite that.

You’ve become selfish.

“I don’t care,” he whispers against your flesh. “You like me, don’t you?”

I adore you.

Don’t leave me.

You don’t say anything, but he can hear your answer in the wild drum of your pulse.

“You’ll protect me.”

I’d give my life to serve that purpose.

“Francis,” you rasp. There’s something coiling within you, burning up hotter and brighter than anything you’ve felt before. It sets your veins and capillaries alight, altering everything within.

There’s a frigid downpour that freezes flesh and sinew, but you’re sweltering with him pressed against you.

Stardust coats your fingertips when you slide them beneath his chin. Beneath the rain, everything sluices away – the pain, the blood, the worry, and the hesitation.

“Use me to forget,” he breathes. “I’ll be yours.”

Fuck.

Gently, you slot your lips against his, and his eyes flutter closed. He’s hesitant – you can tell from how his hands curl open and closed against your chest. He’s hesitant, yet he presses himself against you like you’re going to disappear any minute.

It’s funny.

You’re thinking the exact same thing about him.

Your fingers dig into his hips – you don’t think you’ll ever let him go.

His lips are warm – humanly warm – and he tastes explosive, like neutron stars merging. He’s divine.

“More,” he whines into your mouth. “Please.”

With such soft lips parting just for you, who are you to refuse?

“Mm,” he gasps as you deepen the kiss, pressing your tongue into his spit-slicked mouth. Each pretty noise that escapes him snaps one more string of self-restraint of yours, until it’s all gone. You flip him, so his back’s pressed against the cold, drenched wall and your body moves against his front.

And his hands – they’re clawing at your back and dragging against its valleys. You can feel each nail as you go rougher – eliciting more pain for you, but you couldn’t care less about that . Not when you’ve got him melting like putty as he clumsily moves his lips against yours, not when he’s desperately trying to come closer and closer and closer.

There’s salt on your lips and copper on your tongue. Tears and blood. You can’t tell who cries.

“More,” he pulls back from your mouth panting, choking for breath. “Please, I need more.”

Fuck. It’s getting addicting.

“You sure?”

Give in. You can’t help wanting to lose yourself in that heady sensation.

“Please,” he begs.

You crumble so easily.

‘But if there’s nothing shaking, come this here July, I’m gonna roll myself up in a big ball and die.’

#francis mosses x reader #masterlist #navigation #res ･ﾟ writing #x reader #francis mosses #that's not my neighbor #x male reader #amab reader #slowd1ving #that's not my neighbour x reader

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gracies-baby · 8 months ago

Note

Hey!!! Can you write a Gracie Abrams x female reader. The reader is a couple of years younger than Gracie. She is 20, an actress and comes from a rich family in Italy. The reader is known to be a bad girl and a player. She changes girls like she changes he clothes basically but she is very kind and adorable deep down. and then when she meets Gracie, y/n falls in love with her actually and is not a player anymore but Gracie was only with her as a dare to break her heart as no one has before. Angst with a happy ending.

Begin Again

(Gracie Abrams x Reader)

———————————————————

Breaking! Italian actress Y/n L/n and American singer Sabrina Carpenter call it quits after 3 month relationship! Fans heartbroken after this news

Comments:

We all knew this was coming. Hardly news worthy.

I give her a week before she's got someone new.

She's literally only 20 and she's had like 20 different girlfriends 💀

"They all think I'm a slut" Y/n rants to her friend as she reads the comments on the article.

"Who cares what they think? Your fans love you. These people just need to hate on successful women to feel accomplished" her friend, Jenna replies.

"I dunno, what if they're right? I mean, I do date a lot more than any other 20 year old" Y/n continues, stopping when she gets a notification from instagram, seeing someone had messaged her.

Gracieabrams

Hey, I know you don't know me and we've never spoken at all but I just wanted to see if you were okay? I heard the news. Breakups are hard. I also wanted to see if you maybe wanted to have dinner with me sometime?

"Gracie Abrams just asked me out" Y/n says, showing her phone to Jenna.

"Seriously? Go! Say yes!"

"I just got out of a relationship though. What are people gonna say?" Y/n asks as she nervously stares at her phone.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is your happiness. Gracie could make you happy. Just try one date"

"..fine. She is really cute" Y/n replies as she types on her phone.

Y/n-L/n

Hi! Thanks so much you're so sweet! I'm okay, thanks for asking. I would love to have dinner with you btw. Let me know when you're free!

"Great! My job here is done! I gotta go now though, I'll see you tomorrow" Jenna says as she walks out of her friend's apartment.

Gracieabrams

Does tomorrow work for you? If not I can clear my schedule

Y/n-L/n

Tomorrows great! Just tell me the time and place and I'll be there

The two girls stay up talking until going to sleep, waiting for the next day.

—

Y/n

She's not here. I think I got stood up

Jenna

You definitely did not get stood up. I'm sure she'll be there soon. Just wait a few more minutes

As soon as Y/n gets the text, she feels someone take the seat opposite her.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, I slept through my alarm and I had to pick out an outfit and it was a huge thing. I hope you weren't waiting too long" the brunette says as she takes her jacket off and hangs it on the back of her chair.

"No, not long at all. How are you?" Y/n asks with a kind smile as the two order their coffees at the counter.

"I'm great! I'm releasing an album next week, that's going well. How are you?"

"I'm.. okay. You really lifted my spirits though" Y/n says, sipping her coffee.

"That's great to hear. I've seen what everyone's been saying about you. It's such bullshit. I mean, sometimes relationships don't work out, you know? It's not your fault. Well, I don't know what happened, but I can guess it's not your fault" Gracie speaks, smiling at Y/n gently as the two walk out of the coffee shop, spotting paparazzi a few metres away.

"Heads up" Gracie says, putting her head down as she takes Y/n's hand in hers.

"So, how's a second date sound?" Gracie asks nervously.

"A second date with you sounds amazing, Gracie" Y/n replies with a soft blush.

"Great! I'm busy tomorrow but how's Friday sound?" Gracie asks with an excited grin.

"Fridays perfect, I'll see you then" Y/n replies, leaning in to kiss her lips only to kiss her cheek at the last minute, leaving the brunette disappointed.

"Play your cards right and there's more where that came from" Y/n says before gently closing the door, leaving the taller girl on the other side of it.

Y/n turns on her phone when she begins getting slammed by notifications.

Y/n L/n seen with singer Gracie Abrams leaving popular coffee shop hand in hand. New romance brewing?

Comments:

Literally not even a week after Sabrina

Gracie girl get out while you can

She was probably cheating on Sabrina ngl

Y/n reads the comments as tears fill her eyes. She opens her contacts and calls the first person she thinks of.

"Gracie? Can you come back?" She pleads, voice breaking.

A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door. Y/n opens it only to fall into the brunettes arms, Gracie wrapping her arms around her and holding tight.

"I'm sorry, I know we just met but you're the first person I thought to call" Y/n rambles only for Gracie to stop her.

"It's okay. Don't apologise. You can call me whenever you want"

"Everything they're saying about me.. you don't think it's true, do you?"

"Of course I don't! I don't know you that well, but I do know you're not a slut" Gracie replies, guiding Y/n to the couch.

Gracie continues to calm her down, waiting until she falls asleep before leaving the apartment.

The two girls go on a couple more dates before making it official, Gracie asking the shorter girl to be her girlfriend on a late night picnic date.

—

"Gracie? Are you home?" Y/n asks, opening the door to her girlfriend's apartment when she received no answer. She goes to her girlfriend's room but stopes when she hears talking.

"Gracie, she deserves to know. You love her don't you? And she loves you, just tell her" a woman's voice says from inside.

"I can't do that. She would leave me if I did" Y/n opens the door to see her girlfriend standing with Olivia.

"What's going on?" Y/n asks nervously looking between the two.

"I'm gonna go. Gracie has something to tell you" Olivia says before leaving the apartment.

"What do you need to tell me?"

"Okay.. so, uh, just remember that I love you so much. I've never loved anyone the way I love you. And you love me, right?" Gracie asks, holding her girlfriend's hands.

"Of course, what's wrong?"

"Um, when I asked you out.. it was because Olivia dared me to okay? But that doesn't change the fact that I love you now!"

"What? So what was the plan, you were gonna break my heart after getting me to fall in love with you? How could you do this?! I trusted you! I confided in you!" Y/n exclaims, voice breaking.

"You can still trust me! I will still listen to everything you say! This doesn't change anything!" Gracie pleads, tears running down her face.

"No Gracie! It changes everything! You didn't actually want to be with me! You thought I was a slur just like everyone else!" Y/n runs out of the apartment in tears.

"Y/n wait!" Gracie yells but the girl is already gone.

Y/n L/n seen leaving girlfriend Gracie Abrams apartment in tears. Is this the end for the couple?

Comments:

Y/n hit the three month mark 💀

Who tf would break up with Gracie Abrams

If Y/n doesn't want Gracie I'll have her

After days of Y/n ignoring her calls, Gracie decides to go to her apartment. She knocks on the door, only for Jenna to open it.

"What do you want?" She asks coldly as she stares at the girl.

"Please. I just need to talk to her. 5 minutes" Gracie pleads before she hears Y/n's voice.

"Who is it?" She asks her friend, stopping when she sees the girl at the door.

"Y/n please. You're not answering my calls. I just need to talk to you"

"You need to leave"

"No. Let her come in" Y/n cuts her friend off, watching as she steps aside for the taller girl to walk in.

"You have five minutes" Jenna says before leaving the room, giving the girls privacy.

"Y/n. I know I hurt you but that doesn't change the fact that I love you now. I love you so much. Please believe me" Gracie says, taking the girls hands only for her to pull away.

"How can I believe you? Our relationship was built on a lie!"

"If I didn't love you, why wouldn't I have left you sooner? Why would I have stayed with you this long?" Gracie says, watching as the other girl steps away from her.

"I can't continue this relationship knowing what I know now, Gracie" Y/n mumbles in heartbreak.

"So what if we start a new one? You still love me, don't you? We'll have a new first date and I'll ask you to be my girlfriend again and we'll rebuild our relationship and this time, it's not going to be a lie. Please, just one more chance" Gracie says, stepping closer to the girl and hesitantly taking her hands again.

"Okay. One more chance. I still love you so much" Y/n says, wrapping her arms around the brunette.

"Thank you so much! I love you" Gracie says, pulling the girl in for a gentle kiss, Y/n pulling away after a second.

"You're not even gonna take me out first?" She says as the two girls begin to giggle.

#taylor swift x reader #gracie abrams #gracie abrams x reader #taylor swift #fluff

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i-guess-im-into-this-now · 7 months ago

Text

The Apothecary Diaries

First watch of first episode

At a glance, I knew I would like this show, but after one episode I'm pretty sure I'm going to love it.

Btw, do y'all like it when people give their first impressions of your favorite shows/books/media? Or their thoughtful analysis? Or their shit posting?

I do. I'll try to do that for you here.

So I'm watching this on Crunchyroll with English dub. Right off the bat I can tell you that I'm in love with Maomao. The voice actress is terrific, but also the character is intriguing. She draws you in right away with her intelligence, competency, inquisitiveness, daring, sense of responsibility, need for justice and expansive caring for every including strangers. She's got a whole lot of A+ character traits to absolutely love. Considering she wants to keep a low profile in the palace that's going to be a problem. I'm pretty sure everyone in her orbit is going to be sucked in by her and either love or hate her. There isn't a lot of room for indifference with a person this interesting.

The very first scene I knew there was something atypical about this show because a charming conversation between a daughter and her father suddenly had a black and white still frame of the the girl being abducted. The hell?!

That paired with the next scene taking place in a brothel helped me grasp the tone of this show. This show is going to have some more mature themes. Now, I know, I'm ready for it. I think. (I'll be alright as long as there is no boiling of people. I've already had two shows I've watched this year cook people and I'm done with human soup).

So we see a courtesan ask Maomao without surprise:

Have you been wounding yourself again?

To which Maomao replies, as if it's obvious:

Well, yeah.

Okay so self harm is something Maomao does. Perhaps in service of her medical research, but if she's willing to harm herself for this, then she might also be willing to put herself in harms way under other circumstances as well. I think the show is trying to demonstrate that she's self sacrificing here. Love that in a fictional character.

She panics and runs when the brothel ladies tease her about becoming a courtesan. Why? Is she intimidated by intimacy? Has she witnessed the courtesans suffering? Is she afraid that future would derail her own plans? Does she always get this flustered when teased? I'm not suggesting she consider becoming a courtesan but her panic is telling of something more.

She immediately gets kidnapped, which due to foreshadowing we knew was going to happen, but what gets me is her blasé attitude about it. Like it's just an inconvenience and not a terrifying ordeal. I immediately thought they would sell her to a brothel, but she instead ends up doing laundry at the palace. So we learn that Maomao can stay calm in a crisis and this makes me even more curious about her reaction to the teasing by the courtesans.

We find Maomao settled into a life of servitude at the palace. She's accepted what happened even if she is unfulfilled. She misses her old life, including the brothel, wonders about her father and longs for meat screwers, but she's already figured out the ecosystem she's in and how best to navigate it. She's so savy here. She compares the palace to the brothel and applies her knowledge of that complex social system to navigate palace politics. Maomao has already analyzed what would happen if she revealed her competencies, and has decided to lay low until she is able to extricate her self in a couple years.

She tells the viewers what we need to know about harem life and mentions that if one isn't careful they could end up as a concubine. It's a future she wants as little as that of a courtesan, even though she mentioned that low ranked concubines are treated better than the servants. I have to wonder if this is foreshadowing or if it is commentary on the roles of women in this society.

Palace gossip! Oh there's a handsome new eunuch in the palace? Maomao couldn't care less. Well okay.

I'm going to make a few completely unfounded predictions here just to see how far off I am when I watch the rest of the series.

Regarding the hot eunuch:

He's not a eunuch. He's got all his bits and bobs.

He's not just a palace manager. At least not completely. He's probably a bastard son or royalty in hiding or something. He's not nobody.

Maomao is going to be down bad for this dude.

What a waste. Grade A quality genes and no way of proliferating them. -Maomao on Jinshi's appearance

So Maomao can't be bothered to spare a second thought about handsome eunuchs, or nonsense about curses, but medical ailments? Now you've got her thinking. And I love that about her. She knows how to diagnose and treat ailments and she cares so much! She's trying to lay low but her passion and integrity can't be tempered by her very rational plan to protect herself by staying inconspicuous. She knows how to help and feels a responsibility to do so even if that help puts her at risk. Hero qualities right there.

Also, I love a character that is just... better than every one else. Maomao is more informed, experienced and able to diagnose than the court physician. Competency porn yes, please!

Speaking of competency... We need to talk about Jinshi! Our handsome "eunuch" (he's getting that word in sarcastic quotes until I receive proof otherwise). Out of the 3000 people living in the back palace, he deduces which one of them sent a warning to the concubines, and rangles a confession with nothing more than a scrap of cloth. He observed Maomao muttering about needing something to write on, and her mended skirt. He recognized that scrap of cloth as belonging to a servant girl's clothing. He understood the importance of her literacy and cleverly used it as a means to draw her out. Jinshi is every bit as capable as Maomao, and he's out maneuvered her in this. Maomao has met her match.

To Maomaos horror she is promoted to lady-in-waiting and I am here for it! Girl you are in the shit now! She seems really panicked about the new promotion, because she is smart and knows that this new position is fraught with dangers even if she doesn't know precisely what they are. She seems pretty smart and capable but the fact that Jinshi was able to so easily draw her out and expose her means she will need to sharpen her skills. I'm hoping the concubine and Jinshi will be allies to her in the palace.

Her panic about entering the court reminds me of earlier in the episode when she ran from the brothel. Perhaps she fears becoming entangled with any type of social/political group? Does she have more secrets that she's trying to keep hidden?

I just know that this character is going to be put through some trials. But she has so many great qualities and strengths, that I'm confident she can adapt and overcome. I am looking forward to watching her persist and triumph. And maybe cause a little trouble.

There are some qualities that Maomao just can't mute. Curiosity. A thirst for knowledge. And a sometimes troublesome need to right that which is wrong. - Narrator

Episode 2

#the apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries #maomao #jinshi

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thatdeadaquarius · 2 years ago

Note

HELLO IT IS I AGAIN (Razor's mom /real)

So you know those imposters aus where characters chase the reader for being an 'impersonator'?

What if... It's a continuation from my ask (where we meet Razor first before everyone), and Razor is just confused at the patrolling knights near Wolvendom constantly asking him if he have saw 'the impostor'

Tbh he just shakes his head. Who tf is the impostor????? Wtf is an impostor???????

Many question marks later..

He had encountered an epiphany (not really it's just the Springvale ppl talking about someone copying the creator's looks).

The 'Impostor' they have been searching is you.

But you're not an impostor! Razor knows it! Andrius knows it! And with how the nature and the monster responded to you, Teyvat knows it too!

So like the good son he is, he sheltered you even more severely.

Ur not allowed to go out of his sights at this point (he'll still take you to places with many lampgrasses if you still wanna make a crown w it)

And my imagination ends there, do you think there's something else he'd do?

Ty for answering my last request btw, ur the best and I hope you get your favorite characters w one 10 pull and your desired artifacts w the best stats <3

Much love and sweets

-Razor's mom

RAZOR'S MOM!! HELLO aw im so glad u liked it :)

Srry about the late reply! 💜💜💜

Ok, so I think this is a good time to point to my shiny

Writing Requests/About Me Post I have pinned on my 👉 blog!!👈💅 taaa daaaa :) i did it guys here ya go

Yall have been GREAT so far abt keeping the requests chill and fun, and i dont have that many "Donts" that arent obvious (homophobia, transphobia, ableism,etc)

♡

Dont worry Razor Mom, i just wanted to use this as a way to talk about this!! /nm /gen

♡

About Imposter AU, there are plenty of other blogs/posts that write for that or posts under SAGAU tag! :)

I said wayyy earlier on in some of my first asks, but basically I really want to lighten up the Genshin SAGAU / Isekai tag and branch out from all these darker Imposter AUs :)

And also add more world-building posts or AUs <3

(language brainrot for example)!!

◇

TL;DR: I am not accepting hunting down/yandere/cult au/imposter au Genshin Sagau, only a funny or chill version of it.

Please check my writing rules post :)

Example: u look like Creator, but everybody's like, "oh lucky them wow rlly blessed, have a free drink, etc.

OR omfg where r they?? They descended to Teyvat oh fuck we lost our god-"

♡

Heres the Razor post !!!

If u wanna check it out :]

Cracks knuckles, Saddle up Baby, bc its time for my version of the Imposter AU 🤭😋😈

(and sorry for answering super late/possible scare Razor mom anon!! :'/ )

♡

So it begins rlly small right?

Like, Razor does not know the new knight patroling Wolvendom's borders

,, weird but ok, he thinks basically

And then when it was time to visit some domains a little closer to Springvale for grinding

(Or rlly just to get some of their tiny restaurants homemade food yumm)

He notices more Favonius knights lurking around than usual

Or at least widening their patrols

And hes like wtf?

Ur like, huh.

I'll ask Springvale ppl wtf goin on

The locals respond that the search for the Great Creator has begun.

...

...you and Razor: 👁👄👁 w h o m s t ❔️

◇

Upon further questioning

(which was apparantly weird that yall didnt know, but eh, u just used the whole "feral wolf child with feral blacksmith parent living in woods ignorance" excuse)

Admittedly yall, quite literally, live under a rock lmao

They explain theres a whole ass prophecy

Abt how the Great Architect would succumb to a long slumber somewhere else in the vast universe after making the planet.

And when the time is right, they will reconnect to Teyvat, and awaken, and descend in a mortal form

(like the archons)

◇

..but the kicker is nobody knows wtf they look like bc:

1. All that lore is hella crumbly and old, and very hard to translate

2. Mortal forms sometimes look different than god forms, so even if they did know some defining features of the Creator, that wasnt guaranteed to be them...

◇

(i.e. they will have brown eyes, well. Thats a fuckton of ppl with brown eyes innit? 💀)

♤

So thru certain signs, that this mysterious prophecy wooooo

Said would happen, the nations of Teyvat and their many supernatural inhabitants are aware the ultimate god has descended

(The crops flourished? Animals got more wily, many of the sick ppl got better for no reason, the Irminsul started regrowing/filling out its base- like how it looked like a lightning struck tree rn 💀)

So every country are now trying to find them to be the first to welcome them home

Needless to say its lowkey a competition

◇

Meanwhile you and Razor are just:

... (゜▽゜;)

"Haha yeah cool..."

(Andrius already told u what u r to Teyvat and explained to Razor)

Ur both immediately slapping a cloak on u and keeping the hood up all the time

Yall dont wanna be seperated :(

Ur both paranoid for diff reasons,

Razor's just scared his Lupical is going to be taken from him again bc there r better, more refined humans wanting to be ur Lupical ;-;

And ur like-

Omfg that sounds like sm work 💀

While its nice to daydream abt what itd be like to be famous, realistically,

U could not handle that shit.

People crowding you all the time?

U cant just look busted anywhere u go, like a midnight snack run

Ppl would also expect u be,

Responsible??

To act like a competent ruler maybe???

Hell no.

U just wanted to play a pretty gacha game and spoil ur skrunklies

(At least, if they do wanna call u that, they dont make u do anything political 💀 but u doubt it)

◇

Needless to say, Razor is glued to ur side everywhere u go.

A domain a half mile away? Oh he'll come with dw

Ur gonna go stop by that food merchant further up the road for ingredients? Cool he'll sniff the best ones!

Ur going to see Andrius??

Oh he needed to see him too-

😭😭🥺🥺 poor babe

♧

Surprisingly enough,

Or maybe not his house is right tf there

Diluc is the first person to actually recognize you.

Razor had been subtly steering u away from Mondstadt for 3 weeks now, ever since yall talked to the Springvale locals

An u cant say u didnt notice, but u werent rlly stopping him

You wanted to be like Venti, chillin among the ppl regardless of ur powers, not the Raiden Shogun :/

And maybe shock some ppl who dont know ur a god like him too lol

◇

Diluc had been looking around the lesser patroled areas of Mondstadt to search for the Architect

He didn't even need those incompetent knights to tell him their god had finally descended

He already saw the signs long before Mondstadt

Bc youve been in Wolvendom, the area has flourished over time, more fish in the water, more game to hunt and bigger, crows making circles in the sky despite there being no corpse

And one of the closest places to you,

Is the Dawn Winery.

Diluc's security against Venti began to hold up better, the staff didn't have to clean as much things like dirt or weather damage to the manor,

His hawk had never been faster delivering his letters, he almost thought the little guy had been drugged with something

◇

He patroled Stormterror's Lair, and deep in the woods surrounding the manor that the knights hadn't bother to go into

Afterall, he figured you'd never had a mortal form before, so u were unlikely to fend for urself for very long in the woods lol

so he wanted to find u quick (aww softy :')

He even made a trip out to the Thousand Wind Temple and Dragonspine (he did report that one to the knights, he didn't want Amber, Bennett, or Creator-forbid Klee, being the few pyro users to have to explore it)

Finally, after doing the further away locations, siginificant in history and rich with leftover magic

Diluc figured that's where you might land first, so he saved Wolvendom for last

It would at least let him check on that wolf kid and maybe get to talk to him long enough to ask him if he's seen anything unusual.

The lord of Dawn Winery manor heads into the Wolvendom woods, just as sunset colors the trees...

◇

It was a Friday evening, the sun was setting, the weather was pleasant and it was time for all of the Lupical to come together and eat a big feast!! :)

About once a month, Andrius will come out for a few nights and dine with all of yall

Hes an old wolf give him a break, he takes long naps

So u cook lots of Mondstadt favorites to eat on and a few Liyue dishes too

Razor, ur favorite helper, has helped u finish the last dish and is now romping around with the puppies bless <3

U guys have dragged ur coffee table dining table setup out to sit and eat at

Andrius lets out a not too loud, not too quiet howl, and as the wolves, Razor and you lmao join in

Yall dig in, bones flying everywhere, spagetti noodles flingling around, it would put toddlers to shame lol

◇

Diluc hears a howl that is too... big to be a regular wolf.

It filled the air of Wolvendom like no howl before it, as he used the glowing lampgrass to help light the path deeper

He sneaks past a hilichurl camp or two, all fast asleep

He scans the woods, and figures he'll search the woods besides the path after he gets to that old stone carved pit-

Food?

Diluc sniffs the air, and squints deeper into the forest

The black branches shade the way ahead, but just barely... he can see the flicker of orange and blue light?

He summons his claymore, bracing it on his shoulder, and creeps into the treeline to better hide him

◇

You swear to god (dammit swear to.. you??) someone is watching you.

You look around the piles of fluffy doggos, happy and stuffed full they r slowly forming puppy piles

Andrius is finishing his meat platter, also sitting on all four legs on the ground

Razor is splayed on his back beside you, eyes closed, his feet sticking out the other side of the table, u chuckle at him

But not a single Lupical seems to be looking at you.

Gulping down your last few bites, you scan the treeline

U refuse to be that bitch in a horror movie where their gut says smth is off and they brush it off or barely look at their surroundings

Turning around to the treeline behind you, u see something... red fur?

U sit up some more, peering over the bushes at the bottom of the trees

You meet a pair of warm brown eyes, widened like they're just as shocked to see you

As u notice his familiar red high ponytail (but also not?? Its weird going from 2D to 3D and still recognizing bitches)

U peer down at his chest, as he carefully stands out of the foliage-

That familiar star shaped button that u can press for the character menu screen, the same thats on Razor, on Benny, on Fischl, on Lisa-

Hovers over Diluc's chest.

◇

Diluc is in the bush, observing the human(???) stranger (he really doesnt want to attract the attention of that.. giant spirit wolf thing)

The figure sitting at a ... table?? (He can barely process all these absurdities at once, hes only got so much brain space)

Has sensed his presence, and as he grips his claymore, ready to demand answers,

Razor startles, and jumps up, smelling the pyro user, he summons his weapon-

The figure locks eyes with him, and all he sees is gold.

Diluc drops his claymore.

☆

♡

☆

Have a cliffhanger bc idk 🤷‍♂️ Also srry it wasnt exactly Mondstadt finding u, and it somehow turned into a whole scenario?? Idk man

🤧 welp i hope that was decent Razor mom! Tysm for ur sweet feedback abt our beloved son 🙏💜🐺

Feel free to always talk again, thru comments, asks whatever!! :D

♡

Cheers,

💀♒️

(guys im so stupid i coud've been signing off with this simple emoji combo the whole time,, 😭i didnt actually think abt emojifying my name, just making it look pretty with some of my fav emojis... 😔)

If anyone reads this u should let me know which one is better lol

💀♒️

🌒🌧🌊Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

OR like a combo???

♡my beloved♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

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