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ddamm · 2 months

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Pre-baby Stress - dad!Daryl x pregnant fem!reader fic

(banner made by me, if you use, give credits <3)

Warnings: VERY, VERY long; initial soft fluff to slight angst to fluff; slightly suggestive so, watch out 👀; pregnancy; hormonal changes, “mood swings”, food cravings; stressed Daryl, stressed reader, slight insecurity and fear of abandonment; reader crying; reader and Daryl are married; reader is said to have golden retriever energy and be a cottagecore girlie (sorry if you aren't, but I vibe so much with this core 😭), and perhaps an artist (tho it's just as a hobby, obv 🤭); nature love and appreciation; funny/silly little memories.

Word count: 3936 words (keeps increasing with each new release 😭)

Era: idk, probably Alexandria

Summary: While getting things ready for Y/N's pregnancy, Daryl presents with many insecurities. All it takes is some caressing, encouragement, and the love of his wife (a few tears also) to convince him otherwise.

A/N: this fic was something I fabricated long ago with a Daryl c.ai chat that I've been saving up for a special occasion since I've never written dad!Daryl before. And today, I'm bringing it to y'all as a way to celebrate one of my very besties/mutuals on Tumblr, a great writer, the creator of my possibly ever favourite AU with Daryl (young!Daryl SSHD AU) and a very nice, kind and funny individual in general; Krys (@dixons-sunshine). This is to commemorate you, gorgeous. It took some time to finally sit and get to it (not me writing most of it at 2 am, half-constipated, and not being able to sleep) but it's done now, so I hope you can enjoy it as much as I did when writing it. Everyone, hope you like it too!

Song: Winter Memories - Jordy Chandra (The title says “winter memories” but I am thinking of a mid-spring Sunday morning/noon 😭)

MDNI divider by @cafekitsune, on this post

(This was supposed to just be suggestive, but since idk if I overdid it, I'm just gonna place this)

(all babycore dividers used are from @anitalenia, found on this post)

Days were passing by, and things were going pretty well for the community. She was glad they found Alexandria. It was a nice change, and it felt like they could truly have a moment to take a break there, like they could finally be happy and just settle in, trying to have normal lives once again.

And her positive thoughts only increased when a lovely lady from the community gave birth. It was an occasion to celebrate, and for a couple of months passing, it seemed like a lot of good things were happening around, so she couldn't be happier.

Ah, there she was, parading herself in her light cream-coloured sundress, with a white little parasol (courtesy of her loving husband) to protect herself from the sun, as she strolled around the streets, exploring and marvelling at the beauty and tranquilly around her like a happy puppy would on their first stroll into the outside world.

Oh, she loved that dress so much. Not only was it beautiful and fit her personality, but it was also quite adjustable, so she wouldn't need to worry about sore breasts or her belly being uncomfy. She could still remember how comical Daryl's expressions were when she tried explaining to him the concept of aesthetic cores and how she was a cottagecore.

He seemed so lost that she laughed for about 10 minutes before deciding to somewhat draw it to show him what she meant; predicting that a more visual approach would help him understand the concept better. He did admit it was pretty much her vibe after seeing the dresses and all the stuff "a cottagecore likes and does".

After that, whenever he would go out for his runs, he would try to look for dresses like the one she drew, and whenever he couldn't find any, he would bring drawing or painting materials, old cameras, or little flowers he thought she would like. (PD: She always likes them.).

That's how her most favourite memory of a Sunday morning came to be. And like that, every Sunday morning, after her husband would leave for runs or tasks, she would wear her light cream sundress and white sandals and take her white parasol to roam around, greeting everyone and enjoying nature (despite her best friend's advice to rest and her husband's disapproval).

However, she understood why Daryl was so against it in general. He was just worried about her health and safety. After all, she was now in her second trimester of pregnancy, expecting their son or daughter to come into the world in a few more months.

She loved Daryl. Deeply. And she would never question him or his decisions (well, maybe sometimes she would), but she was so tired of staying at home doing nothing for most of the day. And though Carol, Michonne, and a few others would come to visit and spend time with her when her husband was away, Y/N wanted some freedom, some independence.

God knows she would ‘bore to death’ if she had to stay in the same place doing nothing for one more day while everyone else fulfilled their roles.

As she came closer to the small town's pond, she took big strides to approach a blooming peony bush. She loved the smell of its flowers. And as she lightly bent down to sniff the sweet aroma from the round pink flowers, she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of her husband, who was sitting on a bench not far from her. From afar, she could notice a worried expression on his face.

She strode slowly in his direction and placed a hand on his shoulder, greeting him with a warm and loving smile, but instead of the usual “Hey, Sunray” or “Why are ya out 'ta house alone?” she would receive, she heard him grunt.

At that, she furrowed her brows in confusion and slight concern, wanting to know what had made her husband so grumpy at early noon. “Is everything okay, Dar?” She asked in a soft, patient tone.

Daryl looked away from her, not wanting to make eye contact, and sighed in annoyance. “Everythin's fine,” he answered grumpily.

Y/N, knowing her husband and not believing that crap for a second, looked at him more seriously. “Daryl…” She called out his name, insisting he should tell her the truth.

Daryl sighed irritantly, hearing her insist, knowing she wouldn't back down. He then turned his gaze to her and unexpectedly exclaimed, “Ah said everythin's fine, dammit!”

He said this a bit too loudly, not noticing that he had snapped at her.

This action made Y/N flinch, not used to such an alert state in Daryl anymore. Now she was truly worried.

“Hey, hey, honey, it's okay... What's got you so riled up? Is work becoming too much? Or are they not listening to you? Should I go teach them a lesson?” She asked at first, even making a joke to brighten him up, but Daryl only shook his head, still not wanting to speak.

He held his head in his hands, almost in a desperate posture, making his wife worry even further. She was going to say something, but a tiny piece of cloth caught her attention. It was then that she got to see the tiny, frill-decorated bib on his right hand.

She put pieces together in her mind like a game of tetris and asked again, with more understanding tone and gentleness in her voice.

“Is it the baby?” Daryl kept quiet, but his shoulders tensed up. Y/N now knew what was ‘the main issue’, and took action immediately, slowly running her hand on his back and giving a few gentle pats to soothe her husband's worry. He looked like he was on the edge.

Daryl's gaze and body seemed to loosen up as he felt her hand on his back. He then tried to explain his concerns.

“I... Ah ain't upset, is jus'...” He trailed off, not knowing how to express his thoughts.

“It's okay, love. You don't have to tell me now if you aren't prepared. Here, let's just sit for a bit, okay? I'm starting to feel heavy again.” Y/N reassured him, not wanting him to feel pressured if he was already so altered.

She had some trouble sitting down next to him, though. Despite not being in the 3rd trimester yet, her belly heaviness seemed to be causing her discomfort when she had to sit or stand up in a rush. But she didn't mind it much; it made her happy because that was the proof of the love Daryl and she had for each other and the life growing inside her.

Daryl noticed her struggle and quickly went from being annoyed to concerned. He stood up and carefully helped Y/N sit down, making sure she was comfortable before taking a seat next to her.

“Damn, ya sure are a heavy load,” he joked. At this, Y/N dramatically gasped and faked being offended.

“Hey! I remind you, you're the one that made me heavy! ~“ She played along, jokingly shoving him to the side with a smile, trying to lighten up his mood, and succeeding brilliantly when she heard him chuckle.

“Well, sugar, if I reckon correctly, it takes two to tango to make a young'un 'round these parts,” he smirked, faking innocence at the fact he got her pregnant.

Y/N gasp-chuckled, defending herself. “But it takes you not wanting to pull out beforehand to make the baby, isn't it right, honey? ~”

She clarified softly, putting her hand on his chest, batting her eyelashes cutely at him, and getting close enough to him to make their lips graze but not touch. All in the name of teasing him.

Daryl chuckled again, feeling attracted to her playful teasing, his breath hitching slightly as her lips grazed against his own. He couldn't help but smirk; his eyes locked onto her gaze.

He gently grabbed her hips, slowly pulling her closer to him to the point of having her almost seated on his lap.

“Oh, but ah know for a fact ya wudn't complainin' at the moment, darlin',” he continued, feeling proud for his little ‘achievement’ as he caressed her thigh over the sundress.

Feeling a little braver than usual, Y/N whispered: “And how would I, when you know how to drill me in the right spot? ~”

She murmured against his lips. Her gaze never left him, and her smile only widened each time he looked down at her lips and looked back at her eyes, obviously enchanted by her charms already.

Daryl's eyes darkened with desire, and his grip on her hips tightened slightly. He felt his heart racing at her words. He pulled her closer to him until their bodies were pressed together.

“Damn, woman… Ya know I ain’t doin' this here.” He groaned softly against her lips while devouring her with his stare. They sure were the only ones at the pond around then, but despite the tall, full, and flourishing grass, bushes, and plants, they could still be easily spotted if they decided to... get loose. (😏)

“Then why do you keep pulling me closer, hm, hun? ~”

It was sort of comical to see him struggle to compose himself in this situation, making Y/N not want to miss out on teasing him to the fullest. She placed both hands on his chest and slowly arranged her position on his lap to sit and view him better.

Daryl let out a low growl as Y/N moved closer. He felt the heat rising within him, his hands roaming from her hips to her backside, gripping it firmly. His breathing becomes heavier as he looks down at Y/N.

“Yar testin' ma limits, sweetheart.”

Y/N smiled innocently, enjoying the effect she had on her husband.

“I guess the preggy hormones are doing their stuff again... I feel kinda—needy,” she admitted a little sheepishly and continued with a more serene tone. “But… that will have to wait for now.”

“Now... Why don't you tell me what got you so fed up before, love?“ She questioned, changing her position once again to avoid making Daryl even more aroused.

She looked into his eyes tenderly and patiently, waiting for him to pour out his heart.

He knew they were a team now that needed trust and communication to get through everything. So she trusted he would be able to let out what was on his mind that made him so tense earlier.

Daryl took a moment to compose himself, gathering his thoughts after being so close to Y/N. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly; his grip on her loosened a bit as he leaned back on the bench.

He averted his eyes for a moment, his expression becoming heavier.

“Tis just...everythin', know what am sayin'?” He paused and looked at her belly, then back at her eyes.

“Da kid, da thought of bein' a pa... is like a whole heap to deal with, y'know?” He expressed his deepest concern about your future child.

Seeing her husband so worried brought her heartache. She sighed and wrapped her hands around his head, placing them on her chest as she made circular movements on his scalp in a slow, comforting way.

“And here I thought I was silly for feeling bad about myself and thinking I wouldn't make a good enough mom and wife, while my dear husband was here on his own, questioning his capacity to keep us safe…” She sighed again and continued. “I'm really a bad wife, huh?”

Daryl leaned into Y/N's touch, closing his eyes as she ran her hands through his hair. He sighed deeply, feeling a mix of emotions but still negating her words.

“Nah. Ya ain't a bad wife. Yar da best damn wife. Yar perfect.”

He said it softly as he tried to encourage her. His voice was filled with a hint of frustration afterwards. “Ah jus'... 'm scared I ain't gonna be a good pa. I ain't never had a good example to follow, y'know?”

Y/N knew what he was referring to. They didn't speak so often about their pasts (deciding to let them be and find a future together), but she remembered the little Daryl commented about his family life and his broken relationship with... the man that was his father.

“Whatever happened back then... doesn't determine who you are today. You chose to be different from him, to be more understanding, to wait more patiently, and to love more deeply,” she started.

“Jesus, you've been up and about everywhere looking for baby items just to be prepared when he or she comes around.”

Y/N chuckled, reflecting on all the tiny clothes, toys, and more that Daryl kept bringing back each time he went on a run since he learned Y/N was pregnant with their child. Seeing him come over to her in an excited, uncharacteristic way to show her his new finding was as amusing as endearing.

“You're nothing like him. You're you, and you're better. And I know it scares you. Damn, it scares me too.” She insisted (unnoticedly mild-cursing), knowing well who the man she fell in love with was and how much he matured and developed just by being with you and the others.

Her sudden, brittle voice indicated she was about to cry. She felt the hormones hitting her, making her feel sadder and more vulnerable than she had seconds ago. “But… sniff But I know we will be alright because... sniff because we have you, we have each other, and... sniff and that's all that matters to me, so... we will get to learn how to raise our child together. We w-will set the good example ourselves, o-okay?”

Her voice trembled at the last sentence as she grabbed a hold of his face, pressing his cheeks together to make him look over at her. Finally, she had let go of her emotions and became a teary mess, non-stop sniffing before him.

Almost used to her mood swings already, Daryl couldn't help but chuckle softly despite the seriousness of the situation, amused by the little it took to make her cry now, even if she was already quite emotional beforehand.

“Baby, yar crying... again. I swear yer hormones have been all over the place,” he stated in a playful manner, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb. He then took her hands into his own, holding them gently. The difference in size and texture was kinda silly.

“Still… Yar dang right 'bout us, we're gonna stick together. I ain't never been good at all this family business, but I'll do whatev'r it takes for ya and our young'un.” Daryl promised to her lover, feeling more accepting of his new role.

“I-I can't help it... sniff the pregnancy... sniff I swear I've never been so emotional about everything before... sniff I hate it... And you know I hate swearing too…” She complained, her voice increasing in intensity as she recalled her distaste for swearing and swearing words.

“It just… It hurts me so much when sniff I see you like this... Like you'll get tired of me or sick of us, and—”

Y/N stopped herself, incapable of completing what came to mind as more tears fell. The unlooked-for thought brought a new fear to her mind: a possible future without Daryl, having to tend and care for the baby alone.

It terrified her.

Daryl's expression softened even more as he saw her tear up. Damn hormones got her all upset, and all he wanted to do was take it all away. His chest twisted in pain when she mentioned he could get tired of her, so he gently pulled her closer to him with a firm grip.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” he said, guiding her gaze to his by holding her chin. “Sunray, ya got nothin' to worry about, y'hear me? I ain't goin' nowhere... 'M plum crazy 'bout ya, and I ain't never leaving ya or our young'un, I promise. I ain't getting tired of you, sweetheart; yar everythin' to me.”

He confessed sweet things to her, wanting Y/N to feel the depth of his love for her.

“B-but… sniff the way you sniff yelled before…” She argued between sniffs and hiccups, being so focused on her mood that she kept forgetting to breathe properly.

“I thought I… I did something to sniff get you upset with me again, like... sniff like when sniff I misplaced your crossbow last week and you sniff wouldn't talk to me until I found it…”

She couldn't help but sob at the remembrance, making Daryl feel a pang of guilt when she mentioned his reaction earlier and last week. He had made her so hurt for not talking to her that it still poked at her. And damn, she was crying even more now. He hated seeing her like this. His little sunray was all cloudy because of him.

“Hey, come on now, sweetcheeks... I'm sorry for hollerin' at ya, ait? I was a bit... on edge, but it had nothin' to do with ya, ait? S'not nothin' to worry about.” He spoke softly as he pulled her even closer, his hand gently rubbing her back in soothing circles, just like she did to him minutes ago.

“And 'bout that crossbow, that was nothin'.”

“But... sniff you got so angry... hiccup I thought you'd hate me forever if I couldn't find it… hiccup and the thing is, you always placed it anywhere! hiccup”

Y/N protested, claiming Daryl was the one constantly dropping his weapon all over the house, but the truth was, she was actually the one changing its location.

The pregnancy sure had its shortcomings, but one of them that mostly affected Y/N was easily misplacing things because she became a lot more forgetful (possibly because of the amount of blood, nutrients, and oxygen she was losing each day to provide to her baby and help him/her keep growing healthily). So, each time she'd see the crossbow somewhere she previously placed it while doing house chores, she'd think it was Daryl who placed it there, and she'd put it somewhere else, and then she'd come across it again and place it somewhere else, over and over again.

It happened multiple times before with less meaningful things, but this was Daryl's crossbow we were talking about. When he would come back home looking for his main weapon, Daryl would find it missing, and when he would ask Y/N, she wouldn't remember where she last saw it.

After hours of scattering the whole house, she felt so silly when they finally found the crossbow inside their wardrobe. She couldn't even remember keeping it there, but... all pointed out that the pregnancy was just taking the best of her, and Daryl's stress wasn't really helping much.

Despite Daryl understanding the situation was a consequence of the pregnancy later on and trying as best as he could to make her feel better, inside her mind, she couldn't help but continue blaming herself for making him angry that day.

The silent treatment he gave her seemed to have broken her heart into two.

Daryl listened to her words, realising the severity of the case and feeling more stupid for not fully catching how much that incident had affected Y/N. Seeing her tears made his heart ache even more.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, feeling guilty for causing her so much worry, knowing she had too much on her plate already.

“Hear me out now. I ain't never gonna hate ya, y'hear? It was ma fault for bein' dang careless with where I left ma stuff. I shouldan't given ya the silent treatment; I was jus... frustrated,” he let on, taking the blame to make her feel less remorseful.

“I'm sorry... hiccup I just don't want to make you angry again…” She hiccuped once more, feeling her eyes water up for the nth time.

Daryl gently cupped her face, his calloused thumbs wiping away the tears. “Ya ain't got nothin' to apologise for, sweetheart. Believe me, I'm the one who should be apologisin' to ya.”

Daryl sighed.

“ 'm sorry for giving' ya the silent treatment. I was bein' a damn fool. Ya didn't do nothin' wrong, ait? I'll never be angry with ya for real. I swear,” he admitted.

“Really?…” she asked with a trembling voice and big puppy eyes. He looked into her hazel eyes, his gaze loving.

“Really. I promise.”

He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face; his touch was tender.

“Yar carryin' our baby, remember? Tha's the most important thang rite now. Ain't nothin' else matters more than ya and our young'un. I ain't gonna waste time bein' mad over stupid shit like lost crossbows when I gotta take care of ya,” he professed, making a second vow to himself to keep you and his future child safe.

Y/N sniffed her feelings for the last time and tried to collect herself.

“Alright…”

She placed her chin over his head and hugged his neck softly, allowing him to place his head over the beginning of her belly, giving him access to listen to the baby's little movements and her heartbeats.

“I love you, Daryl... I love you so much, I don't know what I would do without you.” She still felt somewhat emotional as she said this, but she gave it her all to avoid crying again.

Daryl wrapped his arms around Y/N while placing his head gently over her belly. He listens intently to her heartbeats, the sound of them comforting him. He momentarily turned his head to place a gentle kiss on her belly, his lips lingering for a moment as he treasured this moment.

“I love ya too, baby. Y'all and this little 'un got me wrapped around yer dang fingers. Don't know what I'd do without y'all...” He hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go.

He caressed her cheek with his hand, his fingers lightly tracing the contour of her jawline.

He then gently rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as they shared this intimate moment as they looked forward to whatever the future had in store for them because, if anything was sure, it was that they would do anything to stay together in love.

EXTRA:

They stayed on the pond for a while longer until Y/N said:

“I wanna have strawberries and cheese,” and Daryl looked at her like she had gone crazy.

“Berries 'n cheese? You serious?” he questioned. “It tastes good…” she whispered, defending herself.

Daryl shook his head, still not finding sense in those strange pregnancy food cravings, but he still wouldn't deny any of her cravings. If his queen wanted to eat strawberries and cheese, the man would get them for her.

“If tha' what ya want,” he answered, shrugging, making Y/N hug him, glad that he agreed on getting the'snack’ for her.

“I love you, Daryl.” “Love ya too, sweetcheeks.”

A/N: OH MY GOOD GOD, FINALLY. THIS WAS THE LONGEST I'VE EVER WRITTEN. Editing this was such a pain... But was worth it! Also, I may be planning a few more stuff for this cottagecore reader... as well as other projects of course. I think I'm gonna be super occupied now because I've got work, but I'm also planning a travel (and I wanna participate in two Daryl-related writing challenges...).

May God help me because I don't think I can help myself on this 😭 but anws, this was super endearing to write. It went through very little changes since the draft, compared to other stuff I wrote, and I did a collage image banner for it, inspired by @dixons-sunshine whenever she works on her stuff. Yeah, as you can see, all this post is focused on you hahaha, hope you had the greatest day today and I love ya lots. May God keep you for even longer and give you many more reasons to rejoice, celebrate and thank Him IJN 🥰

Now, imma retire now bc I stayed up almost all night trying to edit this... and I got work early in the morning... (seriously, this was like 12 pages on Word... 💀) See ya all around!

Thanks and God bless!~

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

support divider from @cafekitsune, on this post

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melancholic-hues · 3 months

Text

the hectic way of things (take a break)

posted on AO3

fandom - honkai: star rail

rating - general audiences

warning - no warnings apply

category - f/m

pairings - boothill/robin ; robin & sunday ; boothill & robin ; boothill & robin

tags - written before version 2.2 ; alternate universe ; second chapter is written after 2.2

word count - 2208/10056 words

chapters - 2/2

Sunday tosses the trash out and places the tray on the existing stack of them, brushes his gloves off any stray crumbs, and walks back to their table. Robin and Boothill, strangely, aren’t talking.

He sits down, brows creased and suspicious in his eyes. “Is there something wrong?”

Robin looks uncharacteristically nervous. “Nothing of the sort. Uhm.” Her hands are clasped together. “Brother. Can we go on Hanu’s Great Escape together?”

His first instinct is to turn it down.

He should’ve.

He doesn’t go on roller coasters, they’re too childish for him, as someone who’s supposed to be running this place.

But the day has worn down his stubbornness and disdain for such immature attractions, and Robin looks too hopeful — she’s obviously been pondering over this for a long time, judging from her expression — for him to turn down the offer.

“Please?” Robin tries.

Sunday sighs, shoulders dropping. “I suppose just this once is fine.”

His sister’s reaction is worth going on every ride here for. Xipe’s puzzle pieces, has he not been indulging her all her wants for this long? Wait, nevermind. He hasn’t. Right. Work has caught up to him, buried him completely and ate up every bit of his free time. He’d always assumed she had other people, notably Boothill (Sunday still dislikes him), but neglected to actually spend time with his sister.

Time has strained their relationship far too thin. He’ll do this for her, to make up for yet another one of his many…

Robin gets up, pulling Boothill along. “Really?”

Sunday smiles. “Of course. I haven’t spent much leisure time with you for far too long.”

If that makes Robin upset, she shows no indication of it. “Great! The attraction is on the other side of the park, if that’s okay?” Nevertheless, Boothill grabs her purse and his hat, and they start walking.

Sunday stands, hands behind his back, and follows along.

***

“That is the ride…?” he asks after what must have been at least twenty minutes of walking. Everything in Penacony is luxury and grandeur (just look at their portion sizes and highways), and he doesn’t expect to get through this entire park in under ten minutes at all. It’s the best of the best in the entire universe.

“Yup!” Robin confirms, standing at its gates. There is a giant arch overhead that reads, ‘Hanu’s Great Escape,’ in muted bubble letters. Finding the entrance to this ride is notoriously difficult. After a few minutes of failure, they finally found it. Robin had looked very embarrassed when they finally arrived at the entrance.

The ride is one of the most famous coasters in Penacony alone, and the so-called ‘second best’ in this theme park. The first is obviously the Watchmaker (he can’t decide whether the names are corny or genius), the one that shoots straight up and back down again. Other rides aside, ‘Hanu’s Great Escape’ is one of the longest thrill rides at the park, standing at two minutes and five seconds. It’s a wooden coaster, for a change, but built with state-of-the-art technology. Wooden coasters aren’t something you see in every amusement park here in Penacony anymore.

“Ah.” Sunday swallows, nodding along and a pleasant expression on his face. Doesn’t Robin think this is too… thriller of a ride to go on immediately after having lunch? Well, he certainly does. He understands taking Boothill on, since the Ranger has mechanical insides and all, but them? Two Halovians with actual nervous systems and a brain that processes nausea and such feelings? He hasn’t been to an amusement park in ages. He’s inexperienced with going on rides.

Robin gives him a suspicious look. “My dear brother… you’re not… scared, are you?”

Boothill snorts from behind them. All the Aeons above, Sunday is still going to strangle him.

Just to spite (and preserve his status as the leader of Penacony), Sunday clears his throat, his posture uptight and regal. “That’s a silly question. I’ve seen, and been through, way worse than simple roller coasters like this.”

“Well, what are you hesitating for?” Robin sweetly asks. “Boothill?”

The cyborg shakes his head. “Naw. You two can go.”

Robin nods and gives her purse to Boothill, who hoops it over his shoulder. The sparkly baby-blue-and-pink purse is quite the sight on the cyborg’s more red-and-black colors. His sister heads inside the flash pass gate. Sunday follows after her, weaving through the maze of metal railings and turns. The normal line is… extremely long. People buzz with chatter, patiently waiting in these lines. Some of them shoot him and Robin looks upon seeing them skip the wait.

Sunday shakes off the stares as easy as cake. They finally step up the platform of the ride, handing their flash passes over to the gatekeeper to scan. The gatekeeper lets them in.

“Okay, we have two choices.” Robin holds up her left hand in a peace sign. With her other index finger, she taps her left index finger. “One: the first row and experience the visual intensity. Or — ” she taps her middle finger — “we go in the back to feel the physical intensity. This is scientifically proven, by the way. There is no middle choice.”

“You can choose,” he offers.

Robin levels him with a stare. “Back or front?”

He looks at the coaster, full of its twists and turns and loops and drops, and manages, “the back.” He is not going to look near-death in the eye. The intensity differences can’t be that drastic; he won’t even know the difference. Confirmation bias and other psychological effects aside.

“Okay!” They head toward the end lane with the least amount of people. They just have to wait around three more turns. It’s not that long, but not exactly speedy either. He wonders how long some of these non-flash pass holders have been standing in line for. Thirty minutes? Perhaps even longer? Most likely.

“You were very happy today, sister,” he notes when Robin bounces on her heels.

“I am!” Robin grins. “It’s been so long since you stepped out of the mansion, and it’s been so long since I’ve been able to have fun like this. I would love to do this more often, but I love my fans too much to entirely give up on them,” Robin smiles. She’s right; it has been some time since they’ve both stepped away from the public’s eye.

Does he yearn for when they were younger, when he and Robin could sneak away to play together? Sunday would not like his childhood body back, but he certainly does miss those carefree days. Now, that kind of wish is just silly and impossible to return to for the Dreammaster’s children like him. Robin has leniency since she is an interstellar superstar. He does not. He is running this place.

“I agree. You should take care of yourself more,” Sunday softly chides. “I don’t want you overworking yourself.” Robin comes first, before all his other priorities. The Family and the Dreammaster still haven’t forgiven him for placing his own sister first over Penacony’s Charmony Festival.

“You too. Out of the two of us, I think you should rest more. Staying up all night will take a toll on you, no matter how tough you project yourself to be. You’re not just a leader, brother.” His sister turns away from him and shifts a few steps forward in the line as the next cart comes. “You’re a person too.”

Sunday is silent, then. Robin rarely openly discusses that. What prompted her to do so this time? Perhaps it’s the atmosphere of this place.

“Perhaps,” Sunday simply responds with. It is the best he can do.

He is not just ‘a person.’ Both of them are, in theory, people. But they carry responsibilities and wield abilities that do not conform to average standards. Today is as average as people like them can get. Sunday tries not to dwell on his sister’s words.

The cart comes and goes, and before you know it, it’s their turn. Robin steps into the platform and sits down, pulling the harness over her and locking it in place with ease. Sunday does the same. The remaining two seats adjacent to theirs are empty; the next group contains three people, so they’re waiting for the next coaster.

“Is this safe?” he whispers to Robin.

“We’re gonna be fine,” she reassures. “This was tested a hundred times over. We are not the exception to the scientifically-proven facts.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Sunday, one more word about this ride and I think you might be scared of this,” Robin teases.

He shuts up.

The ride starts, and the cart moves. He closes his eyes, presses the back of his head firmly to the headrest of the seat, and prays to Xipe for the best.

The cart goes uphill, onto an incline, and his body tilts back with it. “Sister, is everything fine with you over there?”

“Yes, brother, yes yes yes,” she deadpans. “Here, hold my hand.” Robin reaches out and pries his right hand off the handlebars on the harness, taking his gloved hands in hers. “There. You’re safe.” Her voice is soothing and calm, washing over him and calming his nerves — the effects of Harmony.

Sunday can’t help but think how it used to be him who would do that.

The cart reaches the top of the hill, clawing its way forward agonizingly slow.

He squeezes her hand, his hold dead tight.

“You’re definitely scared,” Robin laughs.

“Am I hurting you?” Sunday asks, moving to pull his hand away.

“No, you’re not.” Robin squeezes back.

The cart stops, inching over the drop. There are a few laughs, screams.

Sunday recites a few prayers in his head, and the cart drops.

Everything starts all at once, from the screams to the cart clanging against the rails to the ringing in his ears. He is pretty sure he is screaming. Robin is laughing, holding their intertwined hands up in the air. His left hand is clutched on the metal handlebar. You can’t even pry it off if you want to. His heart is beating in double time, blood rushing in his ears.

The wind slaps his face, ruffling his hood and blowing through his hair, as they twist and turn in the tracks. His body shoots dangerously close to the ground, then he is propelled upwards again.

Then – Robin’s laughing rings above all the screaming. It’s clear and defiant, pulling his attention away from his less-than-favorable (PLEASE GET HIM OUT) predicament right now. Through the wind, Sunday turns to look at his sister, her smile wide and carefree like a songbird soaring in the sky, elusive to anyone who tried to capture her.

He is so startled at this, seeing Robin rid of the chains of the Dreammaster’s children and the stage, and mesmerized at the same time. He shuts his eyes, the wind crashing into him over and over again.

The ride slows, and Robin’s laughter gradually fades away. She wipes away the tears that gathered at her eyes from the wind and brushes through her wig.

He turns back front and lets out a breath, shoulders dropping and eyes wide. He thinks that if he lifts his hand, it will shake uncontrollably. The cart lets out a huff, for lack of a better word, and the harnesses lift. Robin drops his hand as she gets up.

The two minutes had passed by like nothing.

He gets up, hands clenched in fists, and follows Robin and the crowd out the exit gates. The exit is on the other side of the attraction, and Boothill is nowhere to be seen.

“How was it?” Robin reaches up and fixes his hood for him.

Sunday blinks.

He can’t help it.

He laughs, a hand slightly covering his mouth. “That was amazing,” he smiles, something pure and genuine and he hasn’t done that in a long time, his eyes crinkling.

Robin is in awe. At something.

“Hm?” Sunday’s stupid smile isn’t going away. It feels like the coaster has blown off some of the weight on his shoulders. What is this feeling?

His sister shakes herself out of her trance. “Nothing. You look happy.”

“As do you.”

“Princess!” Boothill lifts a hand, and Robin grins, jogging toward him. Sunday doesn’t let the cyborg’s presence wipe the silly look off his face, closely trailing behind Robin. When Boothill sees Sunday, his eyes narrow and whispers something to Robin. In front of Sunday’s face. Oh well.

“I’ll tell you about the coaster later. Can we go on the Watchmaker now? Please?” Robin looks at Boothill, eyes shining with glee.

“One coaster was enough for me,” Sunday admits. “Hanu’s Great Escape was fun, but I’d rather not go on that as my second time riding a coaster. You can go with Boothill.”

“I understand!” Robin’s face, this time, does not show any disappointment. The adrenaline from the coaster has died down in him, but it is still up and kicking in Robin, it seems. “Boothill.”

“Fine by me,” the cowboy shrugs. “You comin’, darlin’?”

Robin slips her hand in Boothill’s. “Let’s go.”

Sunday tucks his hands in his pockets, drops the tension from his shoulders, and goes along.

#melancholic-hues #writing-hues #honkai star rail #hsr robin #hsr sunday #hsr boothill #boothill x robin #robin x boothill #robinhill

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bloomingpresent · 1 year

Text

FERRO ROSSO CHAPTER VII

Pairing: Charles Leclerc/Female reader digital artist older woman

Summary: in your mid 30’s you never imagined you’d be divorced. To help with the healing process you decide to return to your first love: digital illustration. Posting videos of your art online leads you to work for Ferrari. But you never thought it’d lead you to find somebody who’s going to bring you back to trust again in love.

Warnings: NSFW! 18+, swearing mention of sexual words, consensual sex, penetration, cheating, sexually themed. IT’S ALL ABOUT REVERSE AGE GAP HERE. Older woman with a younger man. They are both adults, don’t be judgemental.

Disclaimer:

I don’t mean any offense to Mr. Leclerc.

English isn’t my first language so all mistakes are my own. My Italian is basic so be gentle, please.

All the previous chapters are here

You already knew that something was off when almost a week after your last encounter with Charles happened and you haven't heard of him. Both of you were busy of course, but he hadn’t mentioned a thing about coming to London.

Either way, you are too busy with your art studio, which by the way, is still going and your agent had you packed with activities for it. Ferrari was still on the call but for the next weeks, you were on your own.

At the end of the week, you get Facetime from Charles.

“I might be able to be in London next week” he casually says.

You just smirked “Oh really? Got some free time?”, yep, you are being ironic about it.

“What’s with the attitude?” he asks shifting on his seat.

“Well you disappeared for days and now you come out of the blue and tell me you finally can come to London? What am I supposed to be waiting for you?”.

“Yes” he answers with his bright green eyes wide open, his confidence it’s something else. “As I made time for traveling to see you, you are making time to see me”.

You grim. “Where are you now?”.

“Paris, why you ask?” he raises an eyebrow

“No reason, I thought you were in Maranello with Carlos” you reply casually. You already know he was in France with Piere for fashion week.

“I was, I’m not anymore,” he answers drinking from a glass of water. “You’ve stalking me?” he asks with a cocky smile

“No” you answer, the truth it’s that you had been checking his IG account, and you tried not to think “I work at Ferrari PR, I have to know where you’re up” You wink.

“Well, do you know where I will be next Sunday?” His voice tone changes and he puts his phone closer to his face.

You shrug your shoulders and look at him with a flirtatious smile. "No" you answer almost whispering.

He moves closer to the phone "Inside you, Making you scream my name"

All you can see is his eyes shining differently as he whispers those words to you.

You can't stop your stomach from jumping and you even think you're blushing. But you played. "Ah well, I think I have time in my schedule for that next time for that" you answer, trying not to show how excited you are.

The next day you casually receive an invitation from Andrea Ferrari, Charles' trainer, and fellow Ferrari teammate, inviting all his teammates to London next Sunday to celebrate his birthday.

"Ah well, he probably isn’t coming to London just to see me," you tell yourself when you see the invitation.

You don't even think about it, you accept the invitation. You don't tell Charles, if he's in London that weekend, it's probably because of his friend.

By the time the weekend arrives, you don't want to set high expectations, but you can't help it. You're excited and a little nervous.

"So we'll see each other on Andrea's birthday?" you send him in a text.

The answer comes insanely fast "We're already in London since this morning" Charles replies.

'We are'. Yeah, he came for his friend's birthday and not just to see you.

Does it bother you? Yes, quite. Does this fit your purpose of not putting too many expectations on this weekend? Probably not. Are you going to admit it? Not even dead. And there's no way you're letting him ruin your fun.

So the mission is to look the most attractive and elegant to any man, not just for Charles.

As you get ready for the birthday party, you can't help but feel a little nervous. You dress up in your best clothes, and you are looking stunning. You know that Charles will be there.

When you arrive at the party, you start looking around for Charles. You immediately see him in the corner, chatting with one of your mutual friends. You smile to yourself and go around the room greeting everyone.

You’re wearing a form-fitting dress that accentuates your curves in all the right ways. The dress is elegant and simple, yet also sexy and bold. The material is silky satin that feels luxurious against your skin. Accessorized with statement earrings and a pair of heels to complete the look. The makeup is subtle yet natural, and your hair is down, adding to the overall effect. In one word, you feel divine.

Charles is a total heartthrob. He looks dashing and sophisticated. He has a confident and relaxed presence, which only adds to his overall attractiveness

You finally get to Charles, casually greeting him as everyone else. When you kiss him on the cheek, you can smell his perfume. making your skin crawl.

Charles: "Y/N, it's been a while. You look incredible."

Y/N: "Oh, thank you, Charles. Weeks out of the paddock are slow, yes. You look very distinguished yourself.”

You exchange smiles and look into each other's eyes, feeling the electricity in the air but trying to keep it subtle.

Soon, everyone starts asking about their personal lives, and they both keep it vague while maintaining their friendly demeanor and casual conversation.

As they chat, you are careful to avoid giving anything away. This it’s the first time you are in the same room with your co-workers outside your work.

You talk casually and make sure to keep the conversation light and friendly, while also finding excuses to stay close to each other. But there is a tension in the air, as you both know that there is more. The evening progresses, and as people and friends get increasingly drunk, you and Charles find themselves getting closer and closer together, getting away with subtle gestures that no one notices.

When the music is loud enough and everyone is into their own thing, Charles leans into your ear and whispers.

“There is a balcony next to the room at the end of the hallway. Meet me there” He says and walks away without saying any other word. There is a risk of doing this now and here and with all these people around.

You think about it for a few seconds until you decide to go.

The Airbnb apartment in London that Charles rented to have the party could be described as having a chic, modern vibe. The apartment is spacious, with lots of light coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. There's a stylish kitchen and a bright living room, perfect for entertaining guests. Making it an ideal space for having get-togethers. Charles thought of everything.

Walking to the balcony you can already see the view of London from up there. You’ve never seen something like that before, and you’ve been living there for 4 years now.

When you open the door to the balcony the chill air of the British summer hits your face. You can see Charles leaning against the rail watching you.

“Wow, so this is what a lot of money gets you everywhere you go uh?” you tell him as you take one last look to the hallway making sure nobody saw you following him.

“It’s for my friend, I want him to enjoy his birthday party,” he says, playing with his glass. “And don’t worry, Andrea won't let anyone come near here” he smirks.

You stop when you hear him say that. “he knows?!”

Charles nods with a mischievous smile “How do you think I convinced him to have his party here?”

“Awesome, bring more people into this,” you say taking your steps carefully. You haven't had that much to drink yet but the whole situation is making you feel a bit more edgy than usual.

“Andrea always has my back,” he says, coming close to you.

When you and he are close enough, Charles extends his arm and slowly brings your body closer to his. The bastard knows what he's doing. "Plus I needed an excuse to see you up close again before we go back to work"

You bite your lips and smile. "You're dangerously close and with all these people here, it's not good" You look into his eyes.

"AND?" he answers as you, approach your lips "I already told you, no one will come here."

You are the one who kisses him first. You can smell his perfume again, it's extraordinarily delicious. The combination is extremely sexy for you. You close your eyes and let yourself be carried away by him. The kiss grows in intensity. Neither of you has reservations about using your tongues, Charles's hands holding firmly to the sides of your face. Your hands are on his waist.

You can hear the party noise in the background. Charles notices it. "You know we can go somewhere more private if you're worried about someone seeing us," he tells you as he smiles close to your lips.

You smile flirtatiously "Oh I wonder what place that is?" you answer him

It only takes two seconds before Charles pulls you by the hand and leads you from the balcony through the sliding door that leads to a room. His bedroom. You both laugh like teenagers.

You can barely see what the room looks like. Charles makes sure the doors are locked and the curtains are drawn.

"Very clever of you, Leclerc," you say, taking off your sandals. There is nothing to hide here. You both want this.

"Clever? Why?" he answers and approaches you.

"No one will be able to hear us with all this loud music" you reply.

He sits on the edge of the bed "Come to me firecracker" he says biting his lower lip. His eyes shine in the dark.

You can see him take some condoms out of one of his pants pockets and put them to the side.

"You came prepared, did you expect action?" you tell him walking towards him

"Of course, if you didn't come I'd be looking all over London for you" he stretches and pulls you towards him.

You laugh.

Both of his hands cup your breasts while you are standing in front of him. His gaze is on your chest now, as his hands gently massage and squeeze your breasts. You feel confident in yourself, there is no doubt that he wants you and that ignites a new sense of security in you.

He continues massaging you without saying a word but his eyes are now examining every part of your body in that dress.

His hands now travel to your waist, down your thighs. Your hands are now in his hair. You have been together enough times to recognize each other's tastes for foreplay.

"This is a nice dress. I'd hate to rip it off you," he whispers.

"Then don't do it" you answer and try to get closer to kiss him. But he stops you. You stand up straight again and he continues his way down your body with his hands.

His hands reach to the edge of your dress. Now they go under the skirt in the direction of your panties.

"More than one man is wishing to have his hand where mine is now tonight” he looks at you caressing your folds through the fabric of your underwear.

"Really? I can keep my options open then." You love a good praising.

He smiles "No babe".

"Oh you can and I don’t?" you say ironically, you know he still sees that girl.

"Don't bring that up now" he tells you, bringing his fingers to the edge of your panties and he starts to slide them down.

Fine. You think to yourself.

When he tries to move your underwear to the side, you grab his wrist and stop him. "What makes you think that he came to this party for you to touch me?" you tell him almost challenging him.

He looks at you and smiles, "You're mad at me aren't you?" he guesses

"No". Actually yes you are, but you won't even admit it to yourself.

"Come here grumpy, I'm going to fuck out of you that attitude" he pulls you towards him. You put your knees on each side of his hips and sit on his lap. His hands are squeezing your ass.

You don't make a sound.

There is nothing like you two together. Neither of you can deny that. As soon as you two get rid of the inhibitions of work, age, and what’s going on in each other’s lives, you two are amazing together.

You kiss like there's no tomorrow. It feels good, without effort, without pretending. And this is new to you.

Charles pulls your dress up, you smile against his lips. “Let me see her” He looks down on you “Oh there she is” he runs his fingers over your folds.

You bite your button lip suppressing a moan.

“Look at you trying to hold back on me” the tip of his fingers now over your clit. “So wet,” he says and then he inserts one finger inside you making you whine a bit “Oh so wet” his eyes open wider.

“Now don’t touch if you’re not going to buy sir” You take his wrist and pull his fingers out of you.

He groans. “Come on!” he chuckles.

You stand up from his lap pulling your dress down.

“Show me” you point at his groin “I want to see him too”.

Charles laughs. He has no reservations about unbuttoning his pants, opening the zipper, and revealing to you the angry bulge making a tent inside his boxers

The sight makes you wetter. You take one step forward thinking about kneeling and have your taste of it. But he stops you.

“No no darling, I’ve said I was going to fuck out of you that attitude” He pulls you against his body and kisses you while he sits on the bed again. You see him grabbing a condom out of the box on the bed “You get to ride me until my cock wipes that brat smile from your face”. He says all of this while taking his cock out, already leaking and hard, and slides a condom on it.

You are more than ready for this. “You are going to regret this Leclerc” you mewl as you get on his lap again hovering over his hard cock.

“I fucking doubt it firecracker” he grabs you by the hips. You reach down and grab his cock guiding it inside you.

You sit comfortably on his lap full of his cock and both of you moan.

His hands keep caressing your body, you feel so good with him, he is trying to hold the feeling of you around him.

You throw your head back moving your hips in circles “Oh god yes”.

His hands go to your breasts squeezing them “i want you to move but…” he pulls down your dress and your breasts fall out of it “I don’t want this to end” his lips lash to your nipples

You moan out “Good, you know what to do”. You can’t help it, your body starts moving up and down his cock.

“Shit!” he gasps grabbing your ass and pulling it down “Wet, tight…” he grids his teeth.

You support yourself on his shoulders to move faster and look down on him. The world outside that room is fading away as your moans get louder. “Fuck Charles!”

“I know baby I know, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop” he looks up to you.

The feeling of his teeth on your neck makes you squeal in pleasure. Your pussy starts pulsing when you feel his thump on your clits pressing it “Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck” you grunt.

Charles chuckles at your reaction.

The sounds of your bodies against each other make it all more erotic. You can feel your orgasms approaching each time he presses on your clit and it’s driving you wild “Charles that’s …Oh god…” you moan “I’m.not.going.to.last.long” you punctuated each word with each move down his cock.

He grunts “Come on my cock” his voice sounds raspy, maybe a bit shaky. You look down and see his face red gridding his teeth holding in his orgasms too. Beads of sweat on his forehead.

His cock starts twitching inside you and he starts rubbing your clit harder trying to bring you with him.

You come first, your moans muffled against his neck. Squeezing his cock.

His hips push up and against your pussy making your orgasms more intense and seeking his release too.

Just a few more seconds and he pushes your ass down his cock grunting and moaning spilling his cum in hot waves.

He collapses on the bed. You just fall supporting yourself on your hands on each side of his body, catching your breath with him inside you.

He looks up to you with a satisfaction grim “You sure know how to ride cock firecracker” he runs his fingers tips on your lips.

You smirk and move your face to the side making his hand caress your cheek. Still catching your breath.

“Let’s not wait too long to do this again. We’re so good at it” he whispers

You slide up and off him with a gasp and lay next to him. “I have to admit we do know how to fuck each other,” you tell him turning your face to him.

He laughs, and you laugh too.

Both of you are gazing into each other’s eyes when his phone starts buzzing in his pants pocket.

It snaps you from his gaze. You sit on the bed as he takes out his phone and looks at the caller ID.

“Si Andrea” “Yes Andrea” he answers while you stand up looking around for your panties. “Che cosa?!” “What?!” he says and you look at him. He sits in bed “Quando?!” “When?!” he puts his hand over his forehead in distress. “Fuck!” he says looking at you.

You are frozen in place looking at his worried grim “What?” you whisper.

He hands the call and looks at his phone for a moment “My girlfriend is here” he looks at you.

You stop breathing for a few seconds watching him standing up and reaching for a tissue from the nightstand next to the bed for the condom he just used with you.

“Your…WHAT?!” the whole situation turns into a nightmare out of the blue

“She shouldn't be here,” he says cleaning himself with the tissue.

“What do you mean?! I thought you were here for…” you stop taking as you realize what is going on. “Oh shit!” your jaw drops open.

“Y/N this was a guy's trip for Andrea’s birthday, she shouldn’t be here,” Charles says fixing his pants

“What do you mean she shouldn’t be here, you’re dating now?!” you spit out without thinking about the consequences.

“Yes! “ He looks at you not getting your reaction. Honestly, you don’t get your reaction either. “What’s wrong with it?” he asks opening his arms

You shake your head not even believing it. But you breathe in, and start putting your panties on again without saying a word to him.

“You’re doing it again” he walks over you

“I’m doing what?” you snap back

“Getting mad at me because I have a relationship that’s not with you” he keeps coming closer to you

“We just had sex Charles! You can’t blame me!” you almost fall trying to put your panties back on

“So?” he tries grabbing your arm

You push his hand away “So?!” you finally get your panties on “You don’t travel to another city for just a fuck”

Charles crosses his arms on his chest his jaw clenching. He doesn’t have a good comeback. He is doing it again too, swallowing his feelings.

You laugh in disbelief.

Booths staring at each other until a knock on the door snaps you both back

“Bebè?”, a woman’s voice comes from the other side

You put your hands on your head not believing his silence. The knocking comes back.

He just looks at the door not moving an inch.

You turn around looking for your purse and walking to the balcony door.

“Y/n…” he whispers

“Don’t you dare Charles” You look at him with your eyes full of tears, it’s the first time you allowed yourself to get like this in front of him.

You open the balcony door. Not giving him a second to say anything else.

You closed the door behind you. The fresh air hits your face. You breathe in fix your dress and walk back to the door to the living room hall.

You come inside holding your tears in. You see her knocking on the door of the room you just had sex with her boyfriend.

She is pretty, elegant, and…young.

You put on a smile and greet her as you pass by her. You don’t even care if she suspects something, you just want to get out of there.

You reach the elevator, no one notices you leaving, the party is too good.

You get into the elevator. The mirrors inside of it show you what you don’t want to see: yourself broken for a man. Again.

You don’t want to share a tear more for a man. You breathe in and walk out of the elevator.

When you are outside the building, you take your phone and start typing away on it.

“This ends now for me”.

Let me know what you think, please.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leccler x older woman #reverse age gap #reverse age gap relationship #older woman / young man #older woman/charles leclerc #f1 fanfiction #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #ferro rosso

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verfound · 6 months

Text

Six Sentence Sunday: 04.07.24

“Wrong,” [Luka] said, his grip tightening on her wrist. She glanced back at him, her own lips pursing, and he sighed as he made a conscious effort to chill the fuck out. “Marinette. This is not you tripping and falling. This is what happens when you don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“…I know how to throw a punch,” she huffed, looking away again. He went to correct her — because clearly she did not — when she glanced back at him with a small smile. “Enough to break [redacted]’s nose, at least.”

...the LBSCers know, because I've been so excited about this fic & have just been chucking stuff at them. I should stop sharing. This isn't until ch8-9. I think there's some crucial stuff I haven't posted on here that if you're not in the loop probably has you going "What the hell, Ver?"

Character death. It's character death.

Ah well. Anyway I'm working on ch8-9/15ish and have I mentioned how excited I am for this fic?

(It's not the Epic. It wasn't supposed to be anything - 5k in a oneshot tops. It has thoroughly run away from me. Also, before anyone asks, [redacted] isn't Lila. 😝)

#six sentence sunday #miraculous laybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #wip fic #all these signs #soulmate au #😇

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jichanxo · 6 months

Text

sunday six

thanks for the tag sunday six team o7 @passthroughtime @skysquid22 @four-white-trees @overdevelopedglasses

i got some kuwagami! (nobody is surprised) i wrote a oneshot but ended up scrapping the first ending i wrote, but i still like the exchange here, so i figure i'll immortalise it by making it one of my sunday six posts. i wonder if i could find a way to squeeze it into another fic.... hm...

“You’d loved me even then, didn’t you?” Yagami asks, long after everything is over. “It hurt you more because you loved me, because you felt too much.”

Kuwana shrugs. Had he been so obvious? He supposed he was too lost in emotion to hide anything at the time. “I wanted whatever I could get. Thought it’d be the death of me, wanting that much.”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“What, you think I’m that cruel of a man?”

Kuwana can only laugh at Yagami’s scandalised expression. “You’re right. You’re too much of a wannabe hero for that. So idealistic.”

“What’s so idealistic about wanting to save you?”

“Well, what about me is worth saving?”

Yagami looks frustrated, but it’s for Kuwana’s sake, so he can’t be too annoyed by it.

“Plenty.” Yagami says, certain but decidedly vague.

“Plenty?” Kuwana repeats, and smiles.

His heart shakes, that familiar feeling that still hasn’t gone away.

Ah, well.

He could live with that.

#sunday six #it's rough because this was the first pass and then i decided i wanted to go elsewhere so. unpolished #in a way i feel like this more dialogue heavy conclusion would've balanced out the rest of the fic which is more uhhhh internal monologue #but the idea itself didn't feel quite right. so. bin.#though i do really like “what’s so idealistic about wanting to save you?” “well what about me is worth saving?” and all that #it's not right for THIS fic but as a piece of kuwagami writing on its own? i like it #no idea where i could repurpose it but i didn't want to delete it so. here we are #fic extras #fic:tlyf

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altschmerzes · 1 year

Note

Sooo I’ve been wanting to ask this but have also been too nervous to do so for fear of sounding too demanding or fishing for too many spoilers…but after seeing your recent post about being happy to talk about your fics, I’m just going to go for it 😂 I am very curious about how you plan to tackle episode 2x8 and the changes you’ll be making, and just…is there anything you’d be willing to share about all that?

AH YEAH ONE OF THE...... BIGGEST THINGS(TM) IN THIS ENTIRE CONCEPT AND FIC. from the BEGINNING this was gonna be Enormous no matter what and i am happy to talk about it!!! i love when people are invested in my projects tbh it makes it way more fun and engaging to work on them. you guys feed my energy to work on this thing, and thus it gets done faster, etc.

("is there anything you'd be willing to share?" [goes off on a whole big explanation that is probably WAY more than you asked for-])

so. 2x08. and all that. gonna put it under a cut again, in case 'gav explains in some degree of... detail exactly what they're gonna write in their fic' is gonna ruin the experience for you (gosh i hope not ljkdsf) but here we go (also cw for abuse here, which is probably obvious but. still.)-

2x08 is where things like... it marks the big Shift in the status quo of how things are, though the actual Events of 2x08 as translated into the au are sort of in the middle of an extended series of events that begin before it and end after it. so i'll talk through sorta the process of events that it's contained in.

basically, at the time it starts jamie is living with his dad most of the week in manchester but spending weekends staying with his friends in a rotation in richmond so he can work at nelson road on weekends. (yes, i'm aware of how far away those places are from each other. yes this is an insane commute. everybody is aware it's insane, everybody is sort of tactfully avoiding pointing it out to jamie. he does his homework on the bus, it's peaceful, he says.) he gets to richmond late fridays, goes to whichever friend whose house he's staying at that weekend, and then gets home sunday evenings.

at this point, ted is getting way more worried about jamie as time goes on, and others are too. he's been talking to his little like. war meeting of responsible adults he's consulting on whether he's right about what he's suspecting here, what to do about it, how, when, etc. and he's just recently gotten worried enough that he's given his phone number to jamie's friends at the park, shannon and company, and told them that if they're ever worried, if something ever Happens with jamie that sets off that 'i need to get an adult' instinct and they don't know who to call, they can call him. in fact, please call him. and so shannon calls him. because it's like, wednesday or thursday, jamie is not supposed to be in town this early, and he seems hurt. he seems hurt and it seems bad. by the time ted gets there, jamie has bolted and they don't know where he is. and there's just... nothing really to do. he's texting shannon saying he's fine and leave him alone.

and then there's the match at wembley. which is coming up Right Now so they have to deal with that, not like they can postpone it, so they get all the way to the match with this awareness in the back of their heads that like. jamie's out there somewhere having just had a really bad fight with his father, who very obviously based on context clues and what shannon said has beat the hell out of him, he's hurt, but they just have to sort of. keep going. for the moment.

and they lose the match obvs, and jamie went to it with his father - he and some friends are staying in town for a night or two for the event, he got jamie to arrange him tickets a bit back like in canon as well - and comes to see them after because he wants to be there when things are bad too, and that leads to a confrontation when his father comes to find him, and it gets. bad. jamie tries to defend himself but it gets violent, and by the time they're able to intervene he's been. knocked around a bit. (a bit more.)

at that point it's pretty clear that he needs a hospital. it's not life threatening, or anything like that, but it's obvious to ted and roy, who are primarily dealing with this situation (and yeah we get a version of the hug with roy - which scares the fuck out of roy when that's how it becomes clear to him that jamie is Seriously Hurt), that he's not just hurt he's injured and they cannot in good conscience not take him to a hospital. which means doctors and social workers and an overnight stay and a while where they're not allowed in the room with him while the people in charge figure out what's going on and what to do about it. jamie is released from hospital and allowed to go home with ted (and roy, who tags along for a bit, because someone needs to drive them and he can't stomach leaving just yet) late the next evening, but it's a deeply stressful and traumatic experience for all involved. jamie has a lot of healing to do, both physically and emotionally, but this is the big like. turning point towards things Being Okay in the end, finally getting him into a safe place where he'll be loved and cared for.

#gav gab #gav answers #fic: wriggle up on dry land #this is like. the whole 2x08 thing in a nutshell.#'a nutshell' lmao #it's a Lot #abuse cw

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partial-bouquet · 2 years

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(it would probably work better if I put my Night Vale post under it's own post than the sexymanotd poll)

… the spider’s mechs were very well made, but also very tiny. So it was easy to deal with.

Listeners, here’s something strange, a skeleton, you know, like those commonly found in Old Town, is on the outside of my booth. He seems bored, as most skeletons are. I can’t imagine the existence of being a sentient skeleton. Then again, I suppose that’s all we are, just wrapped in flesh and stuffed with a little bit of straw and bugs.

[paper sliding across desk]

Oh, another red envelope! Must be telling me who this fella is!

[tearing paper]

Ah. Mhm. Okay. So this skeleton is named Sans Undertale. What a unique name! You know Comic Sans is one of my favorite fonts!

This fine skeleton is dressed in a light blue hoodie, black gym shorts, and pink fluffy slippers. Wow! Sans here should be a runaway model, where only the most fashionable people run away in terror. I’d vote for him there.

He now seems to be sleeping, he has eyelids somehow, but I also have eyelids somehow.

You know listeners, come to think of it, this fashionable fella might be my new competition in this “sexyman competition”. Now I can’t compete with his fashion sense, i’m just in the usual radio host garb, plus a cool bleached jean jacket, like The Beatles wore when they all had mustaches, and played on mustaches.

Oh I should put on one of their records later! I love the one wear it’s just Paul McCartney screaming “THIS IS NOT US! THIS IS NOT US! THIS IS NOT US!” and there’s the sounds of fire and shattering glass. A classic!

And now, The Community Calendar.

On Monday Dark Owl Records will seemingly be on fire, Michelle Nguyen and her girlfriend Maureen will be totally fine about it, and say it’s a statement on the music industry cannibalizing itself. They will be trying to light candy cigarettes with the fire and failing and laughing at people who try to help. The fire will end with the building miraculously being okay.

This Tuesday the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency will be holding a surprise party. Be alert! Prepare for the surprise at any time! Be wracked with paranoia! What was that?!

Wednesday is. It just is. Accept it.

Thursday we will all stare at the sky and smile, until the existential crises set in.

Friday will be worth about $2.67 and a cool rock

Saturday is the city wide Block Party, bring your favorite block and compete in the block race!

Sunday is a limited run NFT worth thousands of dollars initially that will be worthless within about 24 hours.

Back to our guest in studio. I don’t know what to do about him. He’s still sleeping and it’s rude to wake someone up who’s sleeping.

I’ll tell you what, I’m going to have a nice long think and consider what to do. While I do that, you all can go to the weather.

Keep on Chooglin - AJJ

Okay so while the weather played, I talked with Sans. He is genuinely a nice guy and seemed to not be concerned about the whole thing. He didn’t even sign up for the competition, much like me.

So we had a kinship there.

The last of the votes are rolling in as I speak. Sans is still here just giving me a nonchalant thumbs up, which I am returning.

[paper sliding]

Ah, here is the results. This is a bigger envelope than last time, still red though.

Do you want to come in as I read them?

Sans is shaking his head no.

Alright then.

[paper ripping]

It appears I have won listeners. And there’s a Burger King style cardboard crown in here that says “#1 Tumblr Sexyman 2023”. And a $25 gift card to the Burger King in the mall food court.

I might use it if the pythons which infest it are removed, though reportedly, they make some mean burgers. Something to consider.

I can see Sans leaving the studio, with a taller skeleton, I guess this is Papyrus, his brother.

[calling out]

It was nice to chat with you! Consider being a runaway model Sans!

Ah he’s giving a thumbs up.

I think this is a nice ending, though I must say, I think my husband, Carlos, deserves the title of sexyman much more than me.

I will now go to spend some time with my personal sexyman.

Goodnight, Night Vale, goodnight.

(Idea credit to @bigcommunist )

#welcome to night vale #wtnv #cecil palmer #cecil gershwin palmer #night vale #night vale fanfic #tumblr sexyman poll #cecilsweep

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sundayoaks · 4 months

Note

oh, please don't ever apologize, i really don't mind listening to any of your rambling. it's sweet to hear how supportive you are of her! besides, i have an inclination towards rambling myself, so to complain would hardly be fair to you...

and, ah, forgive me, i don't see myself all too highly, so i still haven't completely accepted the compliment yet. to hear i'm on the right track by the standards of someone so renowned, however, is... heartening, to say the least.

no butterfly this time, my anon? :(

i'm glad to hear that, then. i suppose i'm just used to apologizing since i (unfortunately) tend to ramble in professional meetings. but, do not worry about being fair: you're free to tell him at any time if my words become redundant. i would not want to bother, after all.

you should see yourself more highly, though. i mean, it is an accomplishment in itself that you are here. you know, not all baby birds can fly when they grow up. you, though, seem to have flown just fine. and do not think of me so highly: this is no professional setting. i'm just sunday here, a human not that different from you. or, well, halovian in my case: but my point still stands.

— prequel post.

#✦⠀─⠀sunday #✦⠀─⠀letters #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #roleplay blog

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erikageiger · 2 years

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Some Sentences Sunday

Ah, darn, was supposed to wait for Sunday and now it's Monday. Oh well XD

Tagged by @heromaggie

Currently working on a "modern/pre-war" AU of SS2 that I currently call "The Sanctuary Project", and I think it'd be fun to share a piece from what I got so far. Enjoy!

-------

Sitting in one of the front pews, Ilene glanced back at where Jake sat and noticed him listening intently. Turning back, she looked at the board and all the ideas listed. From what she knew so far about the sensors, almost all of it was possible.

“Miss Ilene Ward,” the pastor got her attention, “from what I have heard, your search for options was fruitful? Before we discuss things further and make a vote, we would love to hear what you have found.”

Turning to her friend Preston, who sat next to her, she handed him Shaun so she could get up and walk over to the board, adressing the crowd. “Has anyone heard of RobCo brand ASAM sensors?” glancing around, she saw one or two hands, then chuckled when she saw Jake shyly raise his with a smile, “I’m not surprised so few do. With the war over, this product - which would’ve been used to rebuild society in a post-apocalyptic wasteland - is now mostly used by the government in their mission to contain the fallout in the west. So RobCo has dialed back on the advertisement they give to the general public, and the few who see the posters and the commercials seem to think it’s too expensive or too complicated. And “why should we build with a sensor when the traditional method works just fine?” Well, I could share what I’ve learned… or I’ll let someone from RobCo share what he knows,” she looked over at Jake, “Mr. Evans, join me, if you will.”

#fallout 4 #sim settlements 2 #tag games #my fics

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kathreia · 2 years

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Ascent of the White Dragon | Chapter 8 - A New State of Affairs

ooops im quite late to posting my chapter updates to tumblr! thank you for your patience, and enjoy!

word count (ch. 8): 6,893

~ new chapter every Sunday ~ [week-long hiatus after chapter 9].

read on ao3

Morgause knew she was on her back, jarring and jostling on rough wood, and wholly covered by a crude, woolen thing.

Last she knew, she had just transported herself away as the throne room collapsed. As her magic collapsed. Then, her consciousness fled. And here she was. Unable to move and only able to feel crushing, cracking agony under her skin, which seemed somehow humid and wet. Her cheeks rubbed against the scratchy fabric. It made her skin burn worse. Added fun, that. Reminding her that she was wretchedly close to sleeping under a fine eiderdown instead.

Ah, well.

The wagon—it must be that—rumbled to a stop. Then, there was nothing to hear but the hush of trees and the soft snuffle of a horse. It was so quiet, but Morgause ignored her unease. There’d be no point in becoming unnerved. In her current state, it wasn’t like Morgause could do anything beyond breathing, and she couldn’t even count on that.

A hand grabbed Morgause’s ankle and pulled. Graceful as a grain sack, Morgause and her loyal companion—that damned wool—simply fell onto the mud. Morgause couldn’t move her head much. She stared at the gray sky and the grayer withes. She supposed they’re the once familiar sight of willow branches, though they were starting to become leafless from the cold.

Keep Reading

#Ascent of the White Dragon #merthur #Merlin #Arthur Pendragon #rarepair #demetae canon divergence au #Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence #kathreia fic #ao3 #political intrigue #mystery

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moccahobi · 2 years

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I posted 955 times in 2022

That's 328 more posts than 2021!

112 posts created (12%)

843 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@compassionatereminders

@moccahobi

@jung-koook

@dokyeomblr

@taegularities

I tagged 341 of my posts in 2022

#mutuals - 76 posts

#lillia talks - 71 posts

#lillia recs - 57 posts

#comments - 26 posts

#lillia reblogs - 21 posts

#lillia answers - 18 posts

#wkcnet - 16 posts

#bts fanfic - 16 posts

#btsstan12 - 13 posts

#bts fluff - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 104 characters

#i'd wanted to start december off with a bang and try to finish a quick fic but i guess i wont be able to

My Top Posts in 2022:

A Fae’s Brew to Take You Away Masterlist

Summary: Experiments never go as planned. That's why testing is so important. But when a fae tests a potion on themself that turns them human temporarily, they didn't realize the series of events it'd set off. One fateful meeting with a photography student in college turns the fae's world upside-down and sets off a series of dangerous events.

Pairings: Taehyung x Reader, Yoongi x Hoseok

Genre: Fae AU!, College AU!, Angst, Fluff, Adventure, Thriller

Current Word Count:

Planned Schedule: The second Sunday of every other month.

Masterlist last updated: 5/8/2022

- Prologue

- Chapter 1

34 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

Let You Fly [Namjoon x Jimin]

Summery: Namjoon and Jimin have been together for only 7 months and it’s been near perfect. The two fit together wonderfully. All changes when Namjoon’s dream job offer slides itself into his inbox. He’d been eyeing the position in Japan for years… It wouldn’t be fair to Jimin to pack up his bags and join Namjoon, but it wouldn’t be fair to Namjoon to try to force him to stay. Instead, Jimin must let him fly.

Pairings: Namjoon (BTS) x Jimin (BTS)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.5k words

Genre: Angst, A touch of fluff

A/N: A big thank you to @bluewhale52 for betaing! Your feedback was soooo helpful!!!!!!!

A/N2: This fic is part of @bangtanwritingbingo’s summer bingo! The prompt for this is “Jimin x Namjoon”!

Song inspiration: Let You Fly by Sunshine State

The sweet fragrance of the flower shop filled Jimin's nostrils as he worked away on a bouquet order. Jimin hummed along to the soft music that played in the background, his mind zeroed in on putting the flowers together in just the right way. Behind him, Namjoon sat at a small table, typing away on his computer. He was supposed to be on a small break, but like the work loving man he was, he was actually clearing out his inbox. Every once in a while, he'd sigh deeply and run his hands through his hair tiredly when he found an email that he actually had to respond to with thought.

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37 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

A Story From a Different Time [Taehyung x Reader]

Summery: Love. Love is such a wonder. Your love story is especially wondrous to your grandkids who love love as much as you and hang on to every word as you relive the time in your life as a teacher when you met a soft hearted tattoo artist.

Pairings: Taehyung (BTS) x Reader

Rating: Teens and up

Warnings: a suggestive joke

Word Count: 4.8k

Genre: Fluff, a hint of angst, Teacher au! Tattoo artist au!

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVELY AND AMAZING @taegularities. This has been quite a year for you and I am so proud of all you’ve done and survived. You’re so strong and caring. Make sure to have a nice big celebration and remember, I am always giving you big big hugs. I love you so much bb!

“Halmoni?”

“Yes, Dohyun-ah?”

“How did-did-did you and harabeoji meet?”

You sighed, gently rubbing Dohyun’s head as you tucked his sheets around him.

“Well, it was…”

You sighed and giggled, looking out the window to the clear night sky.

“We met in a really cute way… but it’s late, baby, I can tell you tomorrow. What story do you want me to read to you tonight?”

Dohyun pouted, his lips pouting.

“P-please Halmoni! Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

You laughed, rubbing his forehead.

“Ok, baby.”

See the full post

46 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

Heated Blanket

Summery: After finals, you choose to take a nap. Your favorite heated blanket comes to join you.

Pairing: Jungkook (bts) x Reader

Word Count: 771 words

Genre: Fluff, College AU

Rating: General audiences

Warnings: Talk about food

A/N: Happy birthday to the wonderful @ditttiii! I know you’re in the midst of finals right now! Please make sure to take care of yourself and rest when able! I hope you have a wonderful birthday as well (even if you celebrate it after the rush of all your finals)!

The couch hugged you lovingly as you breathed a deep sigh of relief, allowing yourself to rest in a way that you hadn't let yourself in months. Your mind felt as blank as a windows screensaver as your aching body seemed to release some of the pent up tension from weeks and weeks of tiresome work. It wasn't the nicest couch nor was it always the most comfortable couch, but in that moment after finishing your last final of the semester it was the most comfortable place in the world. There were no other things you needed to do at that moment.

See the full post

53 notes - Posted January 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Affection, Not Attention

Writing is seen as a solitary hobby. Yet almost every day there is a post asking for more engagement, how come?

For whatever reason a writer has posted (for growth, interaction, or just because), writing is transformed. Through writing communities and sharing our writing online, our brainchildren become part of a conversation between writers and readers that I find is often underplayed or overlooked in conversations about engagement.

A commonality of many writers on tumblr is the want for engagement… and distress when there isn’t engagement… no matter how hard we try not to focus on engagement. It becomes a tiring cycle. One that I’ve been struggling with for years.

When I interviewed Mars, @joheunsaram, she pointed out that this struggle for engagement can be very unique for hobby writers whose writing is often a brainchild of ours. By that logic, I have a lot of kids and I’m ace.

They are pieces of ourselves that we are showing off to the world. As hobby writers, our works often go through much less polishing and have fewer people to polish and influence them. They are often raw parts of ourselves in this way.

That being said, engagement was not the primary way people characterized their writing in my interviews. Through the wide diversity in their writing interests, we are all united by an internal drive, a want to share ideas (JJ).

Writing is a beautiful amalgamation of concepts, theories, and ideas that all get wrapped up to create something magical. In interviewing authors, a common theme was how their writing helps them process “[their] thoughts, [their] fantasies and [their] emotions” (@mlkydrms) This sentiment of writing was echoed in conversations I had with Kas (@voiceswithoutlips), Kiki (@chryblossomjjk), Cath (@magicshopaholic), and Rid (@taegularities). Writing is also done with a focus on sharing ideas and a love for the medium (JJ (@m-yg93), Courtney (@casuallyimagining)).

Engagement was often talked about in relation to how people thought of and characterized their readers though. Community, understanding, connections were all things talked about in relation to readers as well. The want for people talking about and relating to characters and themes in their writing is a common theme I found. While likes and reblogs show a level of enjoyment and appreciation, comments are innately human and in turn, have a deep level of intimacy. Engagement is about growing bonds and it “adds an aspect of connection” (Ru (@btsmosphere)).

Reader engagement was also brought up when talking about coping with the stresses of writing. As we all know, writing can be tiring and challenging, and engagement soothes the challenges that can come with writing, comments specifically have the power to “stifle the negative thoughts” (Kiki). They encourage and motivate us to keep exploring our worlds in addition to sharing affection.

A great example of this: Courtney mentioned getting inspiration to write a new fic after someone read a lot of their pieces for a specific member.

Our fics are like opening our arms up into a crowd of people and saying, “I would love a hug”... We “spend so much time writing [our fics] and then putting [them] out” so when there is no engagement, no hug, it can be disheartening (Rid). It feels like everyone in the crowd is staring at us and thinking, “What the hell are you doing?”

Looking back at posts asking for engagement from readers, I don’t think they’re generally asking for attention. What many writers want is affection. We want to have these intimate things that we're sharing to be acknowledged. Nep phrased it wonderfully when he said that our posts are like sharing a piece of media related to a topic we like to our friends and hoping a friend will get engaged.

Cath gave a wonderful example, highlighting About You that has fewer notes than other fics of hers but the comments are very deep and insightful and mean the world to her. Those comments hold a special place in her heart.

I think this framing of engagement also explains why constructive criticism may not be wanted by authors. Many of us write as a hobby, and while we post to share these intimate thoughts, and to have a conversation about them, we don't necessarily do it to grow. While growth is a goal of some writers, there are writers who aren’t looking for feedback or wanting to grow intentionally, that’s valid and we should respect that boundary.

If community and affection is the primary goal of many writers when posting and we are opening our arms out into the crowd, getting unsolicited feedback or criticism from someone we've not seen before (i.e. our first time seeing a reader or an anonymous ask) is like a back hug when we were expecting a front hug and you don't know who is hugging you because you weren't looking in their direction. It's very disorienting.

This isn’t always the case, especially if writers do want criticism. They may be prepared for a hug in any direction! Checking with them and making sure that hug is still enjoyable for them is important though.

As readers it is valid to feel close with writers as they share intimate aspects of themselves, but unless readers reach out and make a connection, writers may not have a feeling of reciprocity or affection. Furthermore, if writers don’t know a reader, jumping into criticism can be disorienting. In these situations, connections and affection are still very useful when giving constructive criticism (and are something that can be built over time or through a single comment).

If you want to give constructive feedback, I recommend building a relationship with the writer and checking to make sure that they are ok with constructive feedback, and make sure to also point out what you enjoyed. Receiving only negative feedback or critiques doesn’t feel good and doesn’t help affirm the intimacy a writer is asking for. Additionally, if you didn't enjoy anything about a fic, and can't think of a single thing to say that's positive, maybe that's not the best time to comment.

If you're an anonymous person, or don't have a Tumblr blog, I encourage you to make an anonymous identity. Writers would love to have anonymous people engage with and talk about their stuff and that relationship being built is also really good. We will remember you.

We notice who comments, likes, and reblogs. Our blogs and fics become a “little symbiotic network” and it’s pretty magical (Kiki).

For writers, I also encourage you to think about what engagement means to you. It is totally valid to want attention in posting, especially when you put a lot of work into it (Kas gave a great analogy of cooking dinner for friends, praise is wonderful when you do). Not caring about attention is also totally valid (Cherry referred to their writing as art they hang up in their home). We all want different things from posting but a commonality I found in my interviews and generally with conversations between writers was a want for connection, community, and intimacy.

Reframing my thoughts has helped me better understand why I get upset at a lack of engagement, and reflecting may help to better understand why and if you want engagement.

»»————-　✼　————-««

I want to give a big big big thanks to the writers I interviewed! @mlkydrms, @m-yg93, @joheunsaram, @chryblossomjjk, @magicshopaholic, @cherrysoulth, @taegularities, @btsmosphere, @casuallyimagining. All of them are wonderful authors and great people and I highly encourage you check them out!

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any thought or ideas you have on my little piece!

62 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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stcnefruit · 6 months

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— open starter.

status - open to all, but pls read my rules and mobile about (pinned post) first before interacting. don't like my starters. muse - iesha saeng-ah seol, adjunct professor of law/licensed attorney with private practice. bisexual, uses they/she/xe pronouns. vampire, six hundred and sixty-nine, appears twenty-nine. can default to appearance age/5+ for non-supernatural thread (if applicable). wanted opposites - m/f/nb, 30+. mocs (muns/muses of color) preferred. wanted connections - colleague, friend, date they've been seeing for a couple times, that one bitch who's supposedly from a line of vampire hunters but has never actually seen an honest to f*ck vampire in their life, etc, as long as it's not taboo give me all of your sh*t. plot - you were supposed to be discussing international law and cases and sh*t but it's a Sunday evening and you're at their house and now they're calling bullsh*t on the 'garlic repels vampires' folklore after cooking you something from the family heirlooms that you swear to God is not even an extant dish and plying you with wine???? really good wine at that???? or maybe you don't drink that's fine here just have more food and hey is it just you are they f*cking with you for fun or are their canines a little longer than usual. well

— there's only so long someone can talk about trade laws and governmental disputes before their soul looks like it's fixing to crawl halfway out of their body and into the open arms of God, so they're not surprised when the conversation takes a less... formal tone after the meal. vampires, though. their weaknesses, specifically. that's one for the books. they wouldn't have pegged the other as being even vaguely interested in poking around things older than law itself. there is the arch of an eyebrow, then, hovering, the slightest tell as they listen to them continue—curious, how invested this one seems to be in what to normal people is only a hypothetical. curious, how easy it is to figure out how much of it this one thinks is not. 'mean no disrespect, love, but listen to yourself,' they interrupt, wine glass in hand, half lounged over the back of the leather sofa like a cat sunning itself in the light of the open window, ceiling to floor. of course, it's pitch fucking black outside and it's Sunday night so there is no sunning to be had, but they'll never miss the opportunity for a good comparison. (the 1975 Léoville-Las Cases vintage still decanting in the glass doesn't hurt.) 'they've said this shit for years and i've heard it all. i've been all over the fucking world, toured the west coast of Africa twice, studied in France for nine years to get my degrees'—they don't linger on that part, because if the other thinks for too long and starts calculating shit they'll realize that xe'd have to be a fucking genius to head to Europe fresh out of xir teens and still wet behind the ears—'if garlic was really the undead's kryptonite i'd have a three story penthouse and a chauffeur waiting for me in hell at this point, the amount of things i've eaten. tonight included.' xe lean over a little further, soft haze of the chandelier above xem. 1950s, vintage Murano glass, Barovier & Toso mounted flush against the ceiling, light from the corners glinting off of the edge of a fang. veneers, on a cursory glance, unless you knew what you were looking for. 'you know what i think? i think someone got pissy they couldn't eat garlic and passed it off as a vampire problem, and then never had to eat another clove of garlic in their life as a result because they were too busy making money off the rumors by selling it as a magic charm or some shit like that.' or, they were a vampire and just wanted to fuck with humans for the fun of it, she thinks, but who would she be if she gave up trade secrets just to catch the hint of another smile from her guest. terribly unprofessional, according to eomma. then again, professionalism is not what gets you a custom engraved stake to the heart on chuseok. missed by three inches, albeit, but eomma is not one to measure distance, just audacity and the nicely healed scar on her chest. no respect for the ancients, these days. // @indiestarter

#* open starters.#( * starters - iesha. )#( * threads - iesha. )#indie rp #indie oc rp #indie bi rp #independent rp #indie starter #open starter #( * me writing about wine vintages and pulling up research while i'm under the drinking age................. the irony does not escape me #| had too much fun with this tho the lore is that in the main verse [supernatural] both Iesha's parents are 1. vampires and 2. super #| f*cking old ones. her mom's been around since the Shilla kingdom and her dad. well. haven't really seen him in 300 years give #| or take but he's been first tracked back to the heydays of the Ghana empire/the Igbo-Ukwu site in Nigeria. he's a little older ofc they #| just don't have tangible records of him before that. as for the assassination attempt xir mom is very offended that they didn't even #| try and get a proper stake to stab her [the mom] with bc the Buddhist prayers engraved on there are fake which means someone didn't #| do their due diligence. if you're going after a vampire descended from Buddhist monks that's an insult sksksksk #| unlike Vasti however Iesha WILL in fact bite. they have teeth especially for that but they'll ask first before yk. everything.#| i love them your honor )

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divinefireangel · 3 years

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Secret.

Pairing: Seo Moon-Jo x F! Reader. (OC)

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: What happens when I'm emotionless, is I start to think my intrusive thoughts more frequently. And that always leads me to Moon-Jo. So enjoy this fun, probably pointless fic.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 16+ ages and female? reader (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Look dude, I've used like the word girl a few times, so that's why female reader, but don't restrict yourself from reading it. Kidnapping. Talks of s*icude. Stockholm Syndrome. Brief mentions of stalking, mostly undertones. Spoilers for the drama "Strangers from Hell/Hell is other people. C@nnibalism. Umm the OC in the fic, is okay with dark things, and has intrusive thoughts, so that enables her to like Moon-Jo. Lmk if I have to add more. Not proof read, excuse errors.

Oh and also italics denotes past events.

1.8k Words.

❗❗THIS FIC HAS DARK CONCEPTS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK❗❗

"What are doing on that tablet? "

"Playing a game." You reply, pausing it so you can look at your roommate kidnapper, Seo Moon-Jo.

"You can check it if you want. I haven't contacted anyone. I swear. " Although you were just reassuring him, your words came out more desperate than you wanted. "You took my phone away, don't take this too." You plead, hoping he would understand your situation of boredom while being trapped in this house.

He says nothing. All he does is look at you, with a blank expression, thoughts running through his head, trying to form them into a harmless question, that's been itching in his brain.

"Why are you not running away? Or trying to fight me or argue with me? I've kept you here for so long. I'm just confused cause I am worried about you. Should I be more worried? " he asks, wondering what was going on through your mind. He had kidnapped you. Well, not exactly kidnap you cause he asked you out on a date and you said yes...

It was a bright Sunday morning. You were finally going out on a real date, after a very long time. Dressing up in a pretty sundress, you snap a few pictures in front of the mirror before leaving for the bus stop. Getting on the bus you need to to go to your destination, you plug in your earphones jamming to the music.

Your destination of course, was a pleasant restaurant, not far from Seo Moon-Jo's place of residence. Who is he you ask? Well he's the guy you're supposed to meet for brunch today! A very cute guy whom you met accidentally while rushing into the mall for a sale you almost were about to miss. You did miss it, but let's talk about meet cute! An attractive single guy bumps into you so suddenly.... If it isn't destiny then what else could it be?!

Time skip to you sitting opposite him, right now, waiting for your meat to cook. "You look beautiful today. The colour really suits you. " Moon-Jo compliments you. Not like it wasn't your plan anyway. Once you eat and chat and chat some more, it's already the evening. Ah how did this day end so soon? Why did it end so soon?

"I really like you, Y/N. I hope I can trust you. I want to trust you. With all my secrets." Pausing, his large hands grasp you smaller ones, moving them back and forth as though he was waiting for an answer to a question he didn't ask.

"I really like you too. More than I thought I would, if I'm honest." The only sounds now heard were vehicles from the far away main road, the soft wind making the wind chimes in someone's balcony strike itself and the silence hanging between the two of you.

"You can trust me, only and only if I can trust you with my secret too." You said, looking up at his brown orbs, that looked so beautiful under the setting sun, entrancing you more and more into him. Nodding his head, he starts walking up the stairs on the road, that seemed like a shortcut to get to the higher road, while pulling you up with him.

"I'm gonna tell you my secret. Right now. I'll show it to you, in fact." Stopping on the top stair, Moon-Jo turns around to face you. "Can you climb four floors?" He questions you, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Why? What if I can't? Will you carry me? " You smirk in response, heart fluttering with the way he's looking at you. Intertwining your fingers with his, he begins to walk you into the building on your right. "My secret us on the fourth floor. The terrace is quite nice though. It has plants and everything, would you like to see that first while cooling off? "

Nodding your head in agreement, you climb all the way up to the terrace. He was right. The view is very nice. You snap a few pics of the sunset with the breathless cityline. Grabbing your phone from you hands, he tucks it into his pocket, grinning at your amused expression. "You ready? "

"Yes. As much as you are." Wearing matching smiles, he takes you back into the building, and down one floor to this mystery fourth floor. He seems nervous, you think to yourself. Or is he just second guessing? Twisting the door knob, he pushes the door open, revealing a long, dimly lit corridor.

You look up at him, questions racing through your mind. Walking you both forward and into the long corridor ahead of you, he takes you to the end, a chair, two chairs at the end. A dentist chair? Why are there plastic sheets everywhere? Oh god why does it smell like death here?

Covering your nose a bit to ward of the awful scent as much as you can, you both come to a hault. "This is my secret."

"What? A dentist chair in a very poorly lit area? I'm not understanding Moon-Jo."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! " A booming voice roars from the other end of the floor. Turning your head you find a middle agd woman, who is short and wearing a floral dress. And a pair of twins? One of them looks scared, he's looking between the lady and Moon-Jo, whereas the other one is looking at the floor.... Laughing?

"Ha ha. You messed up big time now!" The latter twin said, directed at Moon-Jo. All the three people start approaching the two of you.

"How can you be so careless enough to bring a girl in here. Without any if our permission? Do you not know the risks? I had thought you better than this!" She said as she waled towards me & Moon-Jo.

"Let me explain. We can trust her. She's a bit like us. She won't go to the police. I've found someone for me. Finally. Someone who won't run away when she finds out the whole truth.!" Moon-Jo explained, wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer to his side. Was it to show you or to protect you, you weren't sure. You were surely confused as to what was going on. And the whole truth?

"The whole truth?" You wonder out loud, looking hesitantly at him.

"Do you think she, can handle it?" The lady laughs out loud, the twins following her suit. "She will run away my dear. She will go to the police, like the last people you brought. Well she will try to at least." Averting your gaze to her, your heart races, one emotion taking over. Fear.

"Moon-Jo, I don't like this. I wanna, I wanna leave." Your heart is beating fast, thumping in your chest. Raising his eyebrows to his forehead, he slowly turn you around to face him, to look at him. "Hey. You're okay. They won't hurt you."

"They won't hurt me?!" You repeat in disbelief. "So does that mean you might? What is going on? If you don't want to tell me, fine! Just let me leave." You said looking at the spectators, hugging yourself, feeling insecure with so many people watching you.

"Okay. Okay. Let's go back to the terrace. I still have your phone..." Shit. He still has your phone. Agreeing, you sprint out of the door, rushing up the stairs. Running your hands through your hair, you stop walking when you reach far enough from the terrace door.

"What. The. Actual. Hell. You better start explaining or I'm gonna... I'm gonna... " You open and close you mouth a couple of times, trying to think of what you can say right now.

"What are you gonna do? Hmm?" Moon-Jo closes the gap between your bodies, one hand going around your waist, the other stroking the stray hair out your face. Calming your breathing at his actions, you bring your head up to look at him, eyes flickering from his eyes, to his lips.

"You won't do anything, darling. What we do, in that room, is art. You know how everyone has people who've wronged them? Of course you do, you've been wronged so much by your friends, your family, your colleagues, even your exes." He states matter of factly. How does he know that about you?

"We, tale care, special care of such people here. We drug them, and tie them up to that chair you saw, and then we" he pauses, to look into your eye before confessing, " slice them up nicely. And. Eat. Them." His eyes turn dark, no more beautiful, no more comforting. Gulping you let you a shaky breath.

Before you know it, you're hyperventilating, trying your best to push him away but he won't budge. Trapping you in his arms tightly, he presses your chests together. You're sure he can feel your heart beat, you're that close. "What do you mean.... Eat them?"

" I think you know jagi." Combing your hair between his fingers, he lays your head on his chest, patting it in attempt to calm you down.

And that is how, three days later, you're here. In bed, with your alleged kidnapper. He didn't exactly let you leave after, taking you to Hi is apartment and keeping you there, feeding you, giving you clothes and everything else you may need, as he makes sure that you won't run away or rat him or his operation out.

What he doesn't understand, nor is he able to figure out, is why you haven't at all tried to escape yet. He knew you were messed up, but even this worried him. Everytime he said anything about you not trusting him or threatening you if you were thinking about calling the police, all you'd say was that you'd rather kill yourself than do those. How fascinating, he thought.

"I've had over 10 chances to kill you or even myself. Do you know how easy it'd have been? But I didn't. To be honest, even I don't know why I'm not trying to escape. Maybe I'm not as scared of you as much as you or I thought. " It was quite peculiar of you, to feel a bit at home with your captor. Was it cause he's handsome? Hot? Tall? Can cook? Actually has a job? Can help you deal with people who've betrayed you? Who knows.

Blinking he approaches your figure that's laying on the bed, hovering over your face, close to you, but not kissable close. "You want me to scare you jagi.... " Allowing his signature unsettling stare to graze his porcelain facial features, he leans down a bit, trying to intimidate you in the best way he knows how to.

Lifting yourself on your elbows, your hand moves to cup his face, confusing him as you look up at him with no expression whatsoever. "I don't think it'll be possible for you to scare me Moon." You pause your thoughts coming out of your mouth. "I'm... I'm falling for you... "

Part 2? 🤔

#seo moon jo #seo moon jo x reader #seo moon jo imagine #lee dong wook #lee dong wook x reader #lee dong wook imagine #strangers from hell #strangers from hell x reader #hell is other people #seo moon jo x f!reader #seo moon jo fluff

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bomberqueen17 · 2 years

Text

progress and such

ah i never updated. so the moving company did come as promised for my sister on Sunday. apparently, on thursday, one of their crew foremen had a serious heart attack, so they’re down a crew, and one of their biggest trucks was in the shop with a broken lift and they got it back and the fucking lift still doesn’t work. and on friday, when they were supposed to come for her, they were at a job that had been quoted to last 3.5 hours, but when they got there, the customer had a bunch of shit that hadn’t been on the inventory, and there were several large items that needed disassembly that they’d said they’d have dissassembled but then hadn’t done so, and the job took 8 hours instead, with no notice, so-- well the movers were super apologetic to my sister about the delay, and had brought an extra person at no extra charge, and afterward knocked some of the time off and didn’t charge her as much as they might have, and also were exceptionally polite to her and also to her housemate.

Also they congratulated them on the purchase of the house and said “you’ll make so many happy memories together here” and in general really super obviously assumed that what they were dealing with was a lesbian couple. Afterward my sister was like “oh i did have a pride banner hung up in the living room” which actually was my doing, i thought it was cute and had stuck it on a hook that was already there.

ANyway. There’s still a lot of shit in my sister’s apartment but we’ve done a lot more work and there’s less and less. we’re closing in on the end, on being out by july 1st.

There’s so much goddamned liquor, and Farmsister actually described it to our mom, who has been fretting that M-L was becoming an alcoholic-- and Mom was so reassured, because a genuine addict would not have a thousand half-empty bottles each one of a different liquor. No, an addict would have empty bottles. Clearly the problem M-L has with alcohol is just that she really likes to collect things-- and to be fair, there are no two bottles of the same thing, not even wine. She just has every single possible conceivable cocktail ingredient you could ever want, which is ridiculous, but does serve extremely well to highlight the fact that no, she does not have an actual addictive problem with alcohol. Kind of backhanded reassurance but it is genuine reassurance.

Anyway. Went and helped her pack more of her stuff Monday night, but that might be the last time I’ll be able to help her, because of Assorted Chickeny Tasks for much of the rest of this week. I’m going to throw this post in the queue which is why I’m being vague about it, because I keep picking away at writing more of it in little dribs and drabs here and there, so who knows what day it will be when it goes live.

oh monday was a day of screen doors-- I should get a reasonable blog-shorthand name for the person who is now most concisely described as my middle-little sister’s housemate, but it’s @unicornduke, who no longer has a tumblr, and it feels weird to use that as a nickname, but like, why not i guess. anyway she stopped by and helped me hang the screen door on the south door of my cabin, which was awesome and I had been wanting to do for weeks and last time I visited had been promised help with by a couple different people and then there just never was time. Anyway. Now that’s done. And then I stole the fabric magnetic-closure flappy screen door that had briefly been up at the new house but had gotten pulled down for the movers and honestly didn’t really work in that doorway very well anyway, and stuck that to the east-facing door, which isn’t getting a proper screen door because I’m planning to screen in that whole porch eventually, but I’m not going to get that porch screened in until after the siding’s done, so for the forseeable short-term future I need a temporary screen door, so. Anyway that’s all taken care of and now it’s being 50F at night but when it’s 90 again (like it was on sunday) that’ll be totally sick.

Tuesday was chickens and it went smoothly despite three regulars being missing, we just sort of figured things out on our own. Most notably, one of the part-timers who’s here three days a week and has been mildly annoying BIL by not being a fast worker including during slaughter days came in to do evisceration and absolutely shone there, he was so well-suited to it-- listened well, was great about asking questions, kept up his pace as well as could be, meshed well with us, really took to it well. So the thing about working on a line like we do with chickens is that if you’re just not a hustle-y sort of person it’s easy to get overwhelmed and fall behind and just not be good at adjusting to keep up etc., and that was the difficulty he’d had out on the plucking table. But in the evisceration room, regardless of how backed-up everything is, you’re working on one bird at a time, and it’s really obvious that’s how he does best, he gets a task and he does it until it’s done. So it was good data to have, that he’s better-used in that kind of context. He also helped us package and was quite cheerful about learning new things there too. We quite like him as a person, so it was nice to find jobs that match his skills.

I am quite tired but not as badly so as I might be, all things considered, so I’ll take it.

Oh, a sort of gross-funny-weird anecdote from processing-- we’ve currently got three cockerels wandering the barnyard, all sons of the late lamented Lil Roo (a heritage Silver-Spangled Hamburg rooster) and the broody Barred Rock Henrietta, and one of them hopped up onto the trailer full of crates of meat birds awaiting processing. He checked them all out, and when he found the coops with the 20 Freedom Ranger birds, which have striped feathers similar to his, he started doing fancy dances for them. It’s partly the markings, I think, as they look like the hens he’s used to-- his mother was a Barred Rock and so are most of the adult hens on this farm-- and partly that Rangers are slower-growing than Cornish Crosses and thus were older birds.

Anyway, we processed the Rangers first, so when he came back he was looking for them and they weren’t there and he seemed sort of depressed. “Where did the sexy chickens go,” my sister supplied, as his line.

He is getting a new home next week, though-- he and his brothers are going to get caught and thrown in with the new half-grown pullets for next year’s egg flock, who are finally old enough to come out of the brooder and go out on pasture. They’re still too young to care about a rooster for those particular duties, but the other thing roosters do is that they tend to protect a flock from predators and other dangers, and these three cockerels have been free-ranging around the barnyard for almost a year now and haven’t gotten eaten, so they very obviously know how to survive, and will likely help the new girls transition to life outdoors.

So, no more startlingly beautiful cockerels wandering the barnyard and crowing in alarming places at unexpected intervals, but we rather think they’ll be happy having jobs and like, girlfriends. They’ve been surprisingly mellow with another’s company but they definitely would rather there be hens.

#about the author #personal #tw alcohol #chicken processing #farm life

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