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intimacyequalsdeath · 8 months ago

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Greif (Bo Sinclair x AFAB Reader)

This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile now cause I never felt good enough about it to actually post. I wanted to make a good hurt/comfort but not make it too over the top extreme and I'm really confident in this version of it to finally post it. This is the first time I've posted a heavier fic like this so please head all the trigger warnings I put for this one.

Notes: Minors DNI, This fic is written with an AFAB reader in mind though no specific descriptions are used the pronouns She/her are used in relation to the reader. Trigger warnings: Pregnancy, abortion talk (Briefly). Bo is really mean at least in the start, Hurt/Comfort. Afab reader with she/her pronouns used. Excessive Cursing.

"If you fuckin' think I'm lettin' you bring a fuckin' baby into this town you're fuckin crazy!"

Bo yelled as he paced around the living room of the main house. You had finally come clean and revealed to him that you were most likely pregnant. He was taking the news about as well as one would expect Bo Sinclair to.

"I didn't ask to get pregnant Bo! Maybe you should've been more careful!"

You screamed right back at him. Bo scoffed at your argument and shook his head, a nasty grin overtaking his face.

"I shoulda never let you fuckin stay here. I told myself the day you rolled into town that you were gonna cause me nothin' but trouble"

"Maybe you should let Vincent make me into one of his wax figures then Bo, or better yet, you can keep me in the basement under the station."

Bo froze at your statement and fixed you with an expression you had never seen grace his face before.

"You better watch your fuckin' mouth if you know what's good for ya"

"Why Bo? You can't handle the truth of what you were doing in that basement before I came along?"

"You have not got a fuckin' clue what you're talkin' about. When what you need to worry about is what your gonna do with bastard you got growin' in there cause it's not gonna have any relation to me"

He spat, motioning to your stomach.

"If you don't wanna keep the baby what do you suppose I do then?"

"I mean hell if I know, I'm sure the pharmacy in the next town over has some pills or somethin' to nip the problem in the bud"

"Y- you'd really want me to go through with that? After everything we've been through together? Are you fucking serious?"

"No darlin' I want you to go all the way over to the next town over and go on a fuckin' shoppin' spree!"

"How could you even suggest something like that Bo? After everything we've been through?"

"A baby ain't nothin' but a liability, a liability ain't a single one of us got time for. 'sides do you really fuckin' think Ambrose is the place to raise a baby?"

"You, Vince and Les grew up here! Plus it's not like you'd let me fuckin' leave and go somewhere else to raise the baby. You'd turn me into a wax figure before that ever happened"

"Exactly, so what happens when that rug rat grows up and starts askin' questions? Askin' shit about what his daddy and uncles do? Askin' about the figures? What the fuck are you gonna do then?"

"You explained what the 3 of you do to me pretty damn near perfect didn't you?"

You countered Bo's argument. You watch his face as another unreadable expression crossed it as he finally sat down in his recliner and put his head in his hands. You sat and watched him in sick curiosity before the overwhelming feeling hit you like a truck.

Bo Sinclair was afraid.

An emotion you quite honestly never thought you'd see Bo experience. Sure Lester had told you stories from when they were kids and scared of their parents, storms or the usual childhood fears. But this was different. Bo wasn't a child and this wasn't a storm that would just pass if he hid under his covers and waited long enough.

You sat looking at a broken son in the body of a man, a son who had never healed from the torture his own parents put him through. The cracks that Bo tried to conceal so well from his own upbringing were crumbling in front of you. The fears coming back to him, his mother's voice echoing in his head that he would just grow up to be like his father.

The fear that it would be twins, like him and Vince and he'd have to watch them be separated and not be able to do a thing for them. Not being able to take them to a hospital just to protect Ambrose and his brothers.

"You're not going to be like them Bo"

You broke the silence with a whisper. You could hear Bo sharply suck in a breath, you were treading on unprecedented territory with Bo. His childhood was just something he didn't talk or think about at all and now it was at the forefront of his thoughts.

"Shut up"

He mumbled back. A usual response for when Bo felt like you were trying to back him into a corner and he was running out of ammo to fight you off.

"You're not going to be like them Bo. You aren't them and you never will be."

You exclaimed louder. Bo threw his hands off his face and stood up so fast the chair tipped on it's back legs. He stood, in front of the chair, just starring at you, breathing heavily as emotions swam through his eyes. You decided to be bold and test the waters, you began to take small steps toward Bo, he wasn't attempting to walk away so you continued this until you were right in front of him.

"Bo"

You said softly as you stood directly in front of him. He finally snapped his eyes down to meet yours.

"Bo, you're going to be better then them. You're going to be a good dad Bo, you've had a first hand experience of what not to be like as a parent, it's going to be rocky sure but-"

"My mama always told me I'd end up being just like daddy, Just a mean son of a bitch who never had anything nice to say to no one."

Bo cut you off, a much softer tone then before when his fear was translating to anger.

"Do you want to be like you dad? Are you gonna hate this baby if it doesn't come out to be what you were expecting?"

Bo look at you as if you had grown three heads.

"Of course not, it's my kid, how could I not love my own flesh and blood."

"If you know that, and aren't planning to emulate your father, then why are you so worried about ending up like him?"

Bo was stunned, no one had ever talked him through his emotions like that.

"T-that was the only image of a father I ever got. I don't know what a good dad is like. I don't know how "normal" kids who parents actually wanted 'em around had it"

You reached down and grabbed his wrist gently. Bringing it up and rubbing your fingers over his scars, the scars that told many glaring stories of what shaped him into the cold man he was today. You were thawing him out though, slowly but surely.

"You'll learn, No ones saying it'll be easy, but you're capable of running this whole town and taking care of the four of us, I'm sure you'll pick up fatherhood just as quick as anything else."

"Well that ain't my only issue with this whole baby thing though"

"What else is wrong then Bo?"

"It's- It's fuckin'" He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "What if it's twins, and their conjoined like- like me and Vince were."

"Oh Bo"

"We ain't got no doctors here, and it's not like we could go stay in another town for the duration of it that would be too risky, god forbid you have complications too. I just- I don't know if I could do that darlin'"

Everything was coming together and your vision on why Bo was so angry was becoming clearer and clearer. Bo wasn't angry at you, he was scared of loosing you. Scared of being alone when he had finally found something he never thought he would ever get to have.

"Bo honey, I know it's scary, but what happened with you and Vince was rare. There's no guarantee that this baby will even be twins. You should've brought this all to me instead of just yelling."

"I know darlin', I should've went about it better. But I guess when you told me you were pregnant I- I got scared. The entire time you've been here I've had these scenarios in my head, worryin' about what would happen"

You were speechless as you watch as he turned away from you and began pacing again, this time without the yelling. The entire time you had known Bo you had never known him to be one to talk about his feelings. "I'm not a fuckin' pussy" He was remark to you when you would ask him what was wrong.

The front door swung open as Vincent returned from the wax museum. Bo stopped as your gazes moved to Vince who was now frozen in the doorway of the living room.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Vincent signed. You looked at him apologetically before flicking your eyes over to Bo to see what he would say.

"Nah Vince it's nothin'. Just uh- She's pregnant is all"

Vincent perked up and his gaze immediately flicked over to you.

"Really?"

He signed, giving off an aura of excitement. You nodded at him and mustered a smile

"I'm gonna be an uncle!. I'll start reading dad's old medical books and learn things to help with the delivery"

"Now Vince we ain't even-"

"I know he had an entire book about it, I'll start getting set up for prenatal appointments too. Maybe we could even go to the next town over for checkups and stuff, we'll need stuff for the baby too"

Vincent kept rambling in sign, something he did often. You couldn't help but laugh at his childlike wonder at the prospect of being an uncle. You looked over to Bo, who was noticeably less tense as he watched his twin's excitement over the new member of the family.

"Vince chill out for a sec, having this baby is so risky. What if it's twin and they come out like us? You're gonna separate 'em?"

"Well all things considered, the pregnancy only has a one in 250 chance of becoming a twin pregnancy. Plus we're identical twins, only fraternal ones run in families which means two separate eggs would have to be fertilized instead of the egg splitting."

Bo and you look at Vincent in dumbfounded shock as he signed the information as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where the hell did ya learn all that?"

Bo asked still in shock as he looked at his brother as if he had grown another head.

"In dad's old medical books" Vincent shrugged "I'll leave you two alone now though, I should go get researching"

Vincent signed in reply before turning and heading upstairs to his bedroom. When you heard Vincent's bedroom door close you turned back to look at Bo who was already looking at you when your eyes met his. A lighter mood fell over the living room and smile at him.

"A one in 250 chance huh?"

"Yeah, I reckon so"

"You wanna take that chance daddy?"

All the emotions of the night wash over Bo's face as he thinks for a moment then answers.

"If you think it's a good idea, can't really argue with facts I suppose. But there's gonna be rules."

With that Bo is back, the rule making irritable Bo you fell in love with when you rolled into the gas station all those years ago.

"What rules are we talkin' about?"

"For starters your gonna take it easy, when someone comes into town your gonna stay here at the house and out of sight. No heavy lifting, no helping Vincent anymore, no walk-"

"Bo, Just wrap me in bubble wrap then yeah?"

"I mean I could go to the next town over and find somethin-"

"I was joking Bo, You're not wrapping me in a protective layer"

"I can if I want too"

He mumbled under his breath. I bit back a laugh and rolled my eyes.

"Whatever you say Bo"

"Hey I run this town-"

Bo begins the spiel you've heard about 20,000 times since you began living here as you walk into the kitchen, the cravings starting to take over, as he follows you to explain how he runs the town and how what he says goes and if he has to make more rules to keep you he will.

As you stand in the kitchen, eating your snack and listening to Bo's spiel. Something deep down inside you, lets a feeling wash over you that maybe just maybe, everything will be just fine.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader #hurt/comfort #house of wax #house of wax fanfic

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dragonmuse · 1 year ago

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How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer?

I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it.

How do I dirtbag?

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean.

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries.

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other.

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT. I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens. We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on?

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T.

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay. If you don’t, let us continue.

What does dirtbag writing look like?

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird. It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business.

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.)

It has mistakes.

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there.

What if I don’t get good feedback?

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish) is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film, (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness.

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it? Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too!

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck.

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?” Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye.

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole. Fic is no different

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT.

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it?

Fuck it, post it anyway.

What if it’s bad?

Fuck it, post it anyway.

What if it doesn’t make sense?

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway.

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms?

Then someone out there probably needs it! And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY*

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary.

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape.

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there.

Go forth. Make.

You have some errors in this essay.

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT. But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).

#dirtbagwriter

Go forth and MAKE

#writing #i'm not an expert #I just have been doing this a long time #and these are my feels #please feel free to throw away this strawberry

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pix-writes · 4 months ago

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Continuing with my last question cause I just thought this; what does a friendship with Stan looks like? To be more specific, if the reader is a female-presenting person, would her friendship with Stan look different than if the reader were a man? Mostly I wondered because Stan is a ladies' man, and I was wondering if a friendship with a woman would make him wonder if he likes the person or if they are just friends, idk if I explain myself aaaa

Almost thought I'd lost this ask! 😅 It was just in my drafts I hadn't accidentally deleted it thank goodness!

Nah, I think I've got what you're saying!

(a little long, so I've put it under a read more to be mindful of ppl scrolling!)

With Stan I think a relationship with a man and a woman would be a bit different, whilst I perosnally HC that he's bisexual, I do think he is more drawn to women, either as just personal preference and/or because its more recognisable/acceptable societally for him to flirt with women easily.

Whilst Stan is a bit of a ladies man, he does admit to Dipper in Roadside Attraction, that he's not actually good at building relationships/dating women; more often than not his flirtations gets the door slammed in his face. I'm guessing this is because he just is naturally a flirt/pick up artist and is therefore not particularly selective when it comes to flirting with people in general. So with that in mind, he'd be likely to be quite flirtatious in the beginning of getting to know a female friend, but he's (mostly) kidding around, so its not serious if you don't see him that way, I mean you hardly know each other at this stage. It also depends on your interactions together and how you respond to his jokes over this initial stage too. If you flirt back, you guys are mostly going to skip over the friends stage to lovers!

I think Stanley has gone so long without having any friends/close friendships, though, that he's just happy to find a someone who will share the same hobbies or is a 'kindred spirit' of sorts. So, I think he would be likely to drop the flirting act with you once he realises you're not picking up what he's putting down, but you could be a friend. And geniunely, too, he's not just waiting around for you to change your mind, he simply forgets about it and hangs out with you as a friend. Once you become close friends though, I think it would be harder for him to shut off feelings for a female friend, you spend so much time together he can't help but fall for you. He'd try to draw back and rationalise to himself that he's just lonely, so of course he would think about being with you, even if you're not interested (cue the angst). But obviously, that won't work, and his feelings do slip out in the way he acts around you at times!

With a male friend, its much more hanging out together and becoming aquaintance to friends to lovers, I think Stan wouldn't be as likely to initiate things or flirt with a guy right of the bat in most cirucmstances; but he's been around and travelled the world, he's had the occaisonal thing with another fella before, and it's not all about smut either, but romance too. I think he'd be a little less flirtatious, but it once he'd realise he's starting to like them that's when the flirtation will start. I think he'll be a lot more cautious to start it seriously, though, because some of the time he has lost a male friend to flirtation in the past. He'll only do it if he thinks he might have a chance and will lay it on thick, because, what has he got to lose?!

For Stan, the dynamic is different based on his past and also the way he was socialised (living in a heteronormative society, eh?!), so I think a relationship with a guy compared to a girl he'd be slightly different in the way he interacts with them, but he's still a terrible flirt all the same! ^^

Friendship with Stan will look like:

Sitting on the porch, having a drink (of pitt ofc) and telling each other stories

Playing cards or other games you can bet on at the kitchen table, this can go on for hours after dinner

Watching any old thing on the TV (when the kids have gone to bed/are out, it's definitely period dramas - but only if you're into them and put them on, as Stan won't admit he likes them... but you know he does! ^-^)

Fishing on the lake in Gravity Falls and drinking something more alcoholic, will have to stop Stanley from getting into some kind of altercation if it's tourist season when you go out, and boat to the shore tipsy

Being goofy together - generally joking around with each other, making witty/snarky comments to the other nearly all the time, maybe the odd harmless prank here and there - or if one of you has been cheating at cards actual pranks OR some kind of competitive rematch as revenge!

Helping him and Ford on their adventures in some way, even if you don't go with them, you'll be involved somehow whether you like it or not. Will ring you every time they stop at a port to give you an update (it's mainly so you don't worry - you know he's got places safely and he knows you haven't fallen into the bottemless pit whilst he's been away)

Spending summerween/halloween together and competing to see who can be the most scary/has the best decorations/costume out of the two of you etc. One time you enlist Ford's help to give Stanley a scare and totally win. He says that you'll be the death of him one day in response. Once you both watched horror movies, there was a regional power cut and you both got spooked and ended up sleeping in the living room instead of going home/going to bed.

Enabling or discouraging (depending on the situation) each other's devious plans or crimes.

You have a running joke that Stan owes you money. Except it's not a joke. He does. (it just so happens that anytime you get it back is also in step with times you have to pay him back for something as well, so you end up exchanging the same $20 note or whatever)

#ask asnwered #pix replies #stanley pines imagine #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x you #gf hcs

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morri-draws · 6 months ago

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Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 13

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 3,795

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Read on Ao3

The next morning after breakfast, you draft a pattern for your new gown, then start making a mock-up. By sunset, the mock-up is sewn and has been tried on about four times, adjustments being made in between, until at last you are happy with it.

The next day, you cut the pattern pieces from silk and begin sewing the proper gown, working non-stop after breakfast until you are interrupted by a knock at your door. You put down your needle and cross the room, opening the door to find Gwaine looking back at you.

“You’re up and about!” You exclaim.

“And glad of it too. I was beginning to wonder if one could die of boredom,” He replies. “Anyway, want to walk down to the market with me and get some lunch?”

“Isn’t it a little early for lunch?”

Gwaine quirks a brow. “I don’t believe so. This is about the usual time,”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so focused, I didn’t realise how much time has passed,”

“You’ve been working? I thought you’d finished the king and queen’s attire?”

“I did. I’m working on something for myself,”

“For the feast?”

“Yes,”

Gwaine peers over your shoulder. “May I see?”

“No, you may not,” You give a sly smile as you close the door a little, so it’s just wide enough for your face. “I want it to be a surprise,”

He crosses his arms. “Now you’ve got me curious,”

“Well, you’ll have to be patient,” You smirk. “Wait here. I’ll just grab my shawl and then we can go,”

Gwaine asks you to show him where you bought the pies for the indoor picnic, so you lead him to the shop and he purchases one for each of you. You sit on a bench just outside the shop to eat them, before heading back up market street. Gwaine seems to take an interest in the market stalls, his eyes darting over their wares.

“Looking for something in particular?” You ask.

“Hmm?” Gwaine snaps to attention. “Oh, not really. Just taking in all that our glorious city has to offer,” He grins.

You continue up market street at a leisurely pace, allowing yourself time to peruse since Gwaine seems to be doing so.

“It’s so good to see you up and about again,” You say once you reach the end of the traders’ stalls. “Does your wound still cause you any pain?”

“Occasionally, if I move a certain way,” Gwaine replies. “But it’s mostly alright,”

“I’m so thankful Merlin helped,” You sigh, dreading to think what the outcome may have been if he hadn’t.

“Merlin?” Gwaine frowns. “It was Gaius who healed me,”

“He did initially, yes. But whatever he was doing wasn’t working fast enough. Him and Merlin argued about how to treat you, and Merlin had to apply his remedy behind Gaius’ back,”

“Well, I’ll make sure to thank Merlin then,” Gwaine smiles. “Sounds like you were quite the regular visitor to my bedside,”

“Of course I was, I was worried sick! I… thought you might die,”

Gwaine halts and takes your hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze. “It means a lot that you were there with me,” He says seriously, before smiling. “But it’ll take a lot more than bandits to get rid of me,”

Your hand remains in his as you continue up the street.

“Merlin said you tended to me while I was unconscious, helped keep my fever down,” Gwaine says.

You nod.

“Spent a lot of time seeing me shirtless,” He smirks.

Your cheeks flood with warmth.

“Did you like what you saw?” Gwaine asks, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You give him a playful shove. “Being improper, and fishing for compliments,” You shake your head, but can’t hold back a smile. “I shan’t say anything,”

“I shall take that as a yes,”

“You’ll do no such thing!”

You continue walking, biting your bottom lip to hold back your grin, while Gwaine keeps step beside you, looking very amused and pleased with himself.

It’s not until you arrive at your chambers that you realise your hand remained entwined with Gwaine’s the entire way back. He unthreads his fingers and hooks his hand under yours, raising it to his lips. He plants a soft but lengthy kiss at the base of your fingers, his eyes locked onto yours. Your heart thumps as you hold his gaze, a flare of desire tearing through your body. He pulls his lips away and he lowers your hand, but still holds it in his.

“I shall leave you to your secret business now, my lady,”

At last, he pulls his hand away from yours, agonisingly slowly, so his fingers caress your skin from your palm to your fingertips, until the contact is finally broken. Heat pools in your core, the skin on your hand buzzing, as if it can still feel his touch. Gwaine gives you a warm but slightly mischievous smile, as if he knows exactly what kind of reaction he has stirred within you, before he turns and heads down the corridor, disappearing around a corner. You step into your chambers, resting your back against the door as you close it behind you, relishing the pleasant sensation coursing through you. You raise your hand to your face, the feeling of his lips still lingering on your fingers, and press it against your cheek, longing for more of his touch. You recall the long talk between you those days ago, the feeling of his arms around you when you were upset, and wish for him to hold you again, but in a moment of joy rather than sorrow.

You stand with those feelings for a time, unaware how many minutes have passed, until your heartbeat settles and you come to your senses. You must refocus your thoughts. You have a lot of work to do before the feast.

You spend the last few hours of daylight sewing before stopping to make dinner. Your thoughts remain on the gown as you eat, visualising it finished and how you will look in it, but your imaginings stop short at one detail: your hair. What are you to do with it? You can’t wear your cap to an event like this. Not only is it inappropriate for the occasion, it will completely ruin the look. But your hair length is also inappropriate for any occasion. You would be gawked at and you’d be an embarrassment.

Once you’ve finished washing up, you go to your bedchamber and sit in front of the mirror, unpinning your cap and removing it. Your hair has grown some since it was cut, but nowhere near enough to be socially acceptable. Your mood darkens as you wonder if you should bother continuing with the gown, and the part of you that still fears Gwaine will find your true appearance repellent rises to the surface.

You stare back at your reflection, hair flat and frizzy from being under the cap all day. You tear your gaze away, fists clenched, and prepare for bed.

You continue on the gown the next day, though your mind drifts and progress is slow, since your previous ambition has dwindled. As your length of thread is running short, you finish your current line of stitching and fiddle with the needle between your fingers, trying to decide whether you should rethread it or stop for the day, when there’s a knock at your door. Placing the needle down, you stand and cross the room, opening the door to find Gwen.

“I just thought I’d check in,” She smiles. “I haven’t seen you since receiving my gown,”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy. Though I still should have made time for you,” You step aside to allow Gwen to enter.

“It’s quite alright. Have you been spending a lot of time with a certain knight?” She raises a brow mischievously.

“I have,” You admit, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “But I’ve also been working on my own gown for the harvest feast,”

“Oh, may I see?”

You nod and lead Gwen to your work table where the gown is currently laid out, though a bit crumpled.

“That’s coming along nicely,” Gwen carefully smooths out the fabric with her hands, inspecting your work. “I can’t wait to see when it’s finished,”

She looks up at you with a smile, but upon seeing your expression, and your lack of response, her smile falters.

“Are you not happy with it?”

“It’s not that, it’s just,” You sigh. “I don’t know what to do about this,”

You remove your cap, hair falling against your neck and brushing along your collarbones. Gwen approaches, lifting a hand and running a lock of your hair through her fingers.

“It’s grown some,” She says.

“But not nearly enough,”

Gwen’s gaze wanders over your hair thoughtfully. “Have you ever curled your hair before?”

“No,”

“I wonder if we should try it, then it wouldn’t look so flat. I think once it’s got a bit of curl to it, it could look quite pretty,”

“Perhaps,” You shrug. “But I don’t know how to do that. I’ve never been good at styling hair,”

“Well, I am. I did used to be a lady’s maid,” She smiles and glances toward your fabric shelves. “Do you have any linen scraps?”

“I should have something,” You walk over to the shelves and rummage through the collection of fabric, until you find a square scrap of white linen. “Will this do?”

“That will do very nicely,” Gwen holds out her hand and you pass her the linen. “May I borrow your scissors?” She asks.

“Of course,” You retrieve them from your sewing box and give them to her.

Gwen thanks you and she lays out the piece of fabric on a clear section of your work table, before cutting it into strips. Once all the fabric is cut, she stacks the strips into a neat pile.

“Wet your hair tonight,” She says. “But don’t soak it. It needs to be just damp. I’ll come back after dinner and show you what to do. This can be a trial run. If you like the results, we can repeat the process the night before the harvest feast. If not, we can try something else,”

Gwen arrives at your chambers about an hour after you finish your dinner, and you carry a chair to your bedchamber, Gwen refusing one for herself since she says it’ll be easier to do the process while standing. You place the chair in front of the mirror and sit, while Gwen arranges the fabric strips and comb on the vanity. She takes a section of hair in one hand, and with the other, places one of the strips, which is much longer than the hair, beside it, then wraps the lock of hair round the strip in a spiral. Once the entire length of the hair has been coiled around, Gwen holds it in place with one hand, while with the other, she wraps the remaining length of fabric around the hair, working from the bottom up this time, until the hair is completely covered, then ties the two ends of the strips together, securing the hair inside. She repeats this process until all your hair is secured.

“While you sleep tonight, your hair shall dry and set into the curls,” Gwen says, looking at you through the mirror, a hand on your shoulder. “Take them out tomorrow and see. It might look silly at first, as they will require a fair bit of brushing, but I think you will like the result,”

You reach up and rest your hand over Gwen’s. “Thank you for this,”

“You are welcome,” She smiles. “I shall leave you to enjoy the rest of your night. I might stop by tomorrow to see how our little experiment has gone,”

After breakfast the next morning, you return to the mirror and remove the rags from your hair, revealing tight ringlets. You are alarmed at first, but remember what Gwen said about brushing, so you pick up your hairbrush from beside the basin and begin working on your hair. At first, the curls seem to just bounce back to exactly how they were once the brush has run through them, but after a time, you notice them begin to soften.

After about fifteen minutes of continuous brushing, the hair has taken on some kind of style. You put down the brush and turn your head side to side, inspecting yourself in the mirror. You still look odd compared to other women about the castle, but… perhaps you could be seen like this?

You rush from your bedchamber and grab your unfinished gown, returning to hold it in front of you before the mirror. With a little squinting and imagination, you envision the final look and think it may just work. You leave your bedchamber again, gown draped over one arm, with a renewed vigour for sewing, when there’s a knock at your door. Placing the gown down, you move to answer it, before remembering your hair and stopping in your tracks.

“Who is it?” You call out.

“It’s Gwen,” A voice says from the other side of the door.

You continue to the door and open it, Gwen gasping when she sees you.

“(Y/N), that looks lovely!”

You grin and show her inside, closing the door behind her.

“I just came by to see how it went, but I can see right away that it’s gone very well!” She beams.

“You think so?”

“I do!”

“So, you think I could go to the feast like this?”

“(Y/N), you can go to the feast however you like. I know you are afraid of being different, but different doesn’t mean bad. I don’t believe anyone there will think poorly of you. If anything, they will be intrigued by your unique beauty,”

You chuckle. “I’m not so sure about that,”

A thought occurs to you and in an instant, your newfound excitement dissipates. There could be someone there who thinks very poorly of you.

“Will Gwaine’s sister be at the feast?” You ask.

Gwen frowns. “The nobility are invited, so I suppose she will be,”

“I can’t possibly go if she is going to be there,” You shake your head and begin to pace.

“I’m sure you will still have a good time,”

“I don’t think I could have a good time with her there. I wouldn’t be able to ignore her, I’d be waiting for her to say something unkind, or do something. Who knows, she might purposely spill her wine on my gown or something,”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I wish I could tell her she can’t attend, but I’m afraid I cannot,” Gwen purses her lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps I could engage her in conversation for the whole evening, so she won’t have the chance to do or say anything to you,”

You cease your pacing. “But then your night would be unpleasant,”

Gwen shrugs. “I have gotten rather good at talking to people I don’t like since becoming queen,”

“I don’t know,” You sigh. “That is a kind offer Gwen, thank you, but I think I should work this out myself,”

“Alright, but please don’t let the prospect of Erika being there quell your excitement. Your hair is going to look beautiful, and I can already tell that your gown is going to be stunning. Not to mention, you’ll be going with Sir Gwaine. He’s known for being lots of fun, not to mention the fact that he adores you. Everything will work out,” Gwen smiles and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “But if you are still feeling apprehensive, please talk to Gwaine about it. Don’t keep your feelings to yourself, alright?”

“Alright,” You nod. “I will speak with him today,”

“Good,” Gwen smiles. “I shall leave you to it,”

After working on your gown for another two hours or so, you leave your chambers to see Gwaine.

You reach his door, raising your hand to knock, but falter. You shouldn’t bother him with this. It’s your issue, so you should work it out for yourself. Besides, what do you expect him to do? You lower your hand and turn around, taking a few steps back the way you came, when you hear a door unlatch and someone call your name. You turn around to see Gwaine standing at his chamber door.

“Is everything alright?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m fine,” You force a smile.

Upon hearing approaching footsteps, you turn to see Sir Elyan striding down the corridor. He nods in your direction and smiles.

“Good day, (Y/N),” He says, before disappearing into presumably his own chambers.

Gwaine steps out into the corridor, dressed very casually in his grey tunic and trousers, with only socks covering his feet, and closes the gap between you.

“If there’s something on your mind, I’m happy to hear it,” He offers.

The sound of approaching chatter has you turn around again to see Sirs Leon and Percival appear at the end of the corridor. They incline their heads in your direction as they advance, as Sir Elyan did.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Leon says kindly.

His hair is damp, some of his curls sticking to his sweaty forehead. They must have just come back from training.

“I hope you’re well?” Percival says from beside Leon, with a grin, his gaze flicking between you and Gwaine beside you.

“I am well, thank you,” You reply.

Gwaine grimaces and watches his comrades until they enter their respective chambers, before addressing you again.

“Would you like to come inside?” He takes a step back toward his chamber door. “Then we might have some privacy,” His eyes flick to the entrances to the other knights’ rooms.

You nod and follow him inside, where he invites you to sit at the table. You take a seat and he closes the door before sitting down across from you.

“I shouldn’t bother you with it,” You say quietly.

“(Y/N),” Gwaine smiles sadly. “You never have, and never could, bother me. What’s the matter?”

You sigh. “I just realised today that… well, it hadn’t occurred to me that Erika would be at the harvest feast,”

“Ah,” Gwaine crosses his arms. “I spoke with her today,”

“You did? What about?”

“Just… everything you and I spoke of. I suppose I wanted to confront her, but also try to understand why she did what she did,”

“I see,”

“I needn’t speak of it,” Gwaine shakes his head.

“No… I would like to know what she had to say for herself,”

“Alright,” Gwaine straightens in his chair. “It turns out she’s been bitter all these years about me leaving home when I did. She felt I left her to fend for herself, while I had an easy escape. She’s been cruel to you because you make me happy and she thinks I don’t deserve to be happy. She came to Camelot to try to find a place for herself here. Supposedly none of the men back home are good enough for her,”

“When I overheard her in the courtiers’ wing, her companion mentioned something about Erika’s ‘quest’, and Erika replied, saying something about someone falling in love with her,”

Gwaine nods. “She’s been speaking to the other knights, clearly trying to gain their favour. Leon, Percival and Elyan have all had her approach them. They’ve all managed to shrug her off, though she was quite persistent for a time,”

“So, she was hoping to secure one of the knights and what, get married and live in Camelot? What about your mother?”

“If Erika was to settle here, I would see about finding a place for my mother as well. That is if she’d even want to live here,”

“Why wouldn’t she? Isn’t she in, please excuse the term, a reduced position?”

“Not so much anymore,”

You raise your brows in question.

“Since I became a knight,” Gwaine continues. “I’ve been sending her a portion of my wages in an attempt to better her and Erika’s circumstances,”

“And still Erika treats you so poorly?”

Gwaine shrugs. You reach a hand across the table and he places one of his own around it.

“Sending part of my wages was the least I could do after I ran away. There was no money being sent to them then,”

“You mustn’t punish yourself for your past mistakes, especially since you are doing what you can now,”

“You are kind to say so,” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anyway, back to the matter at hand: Erika being at the feast,”

“Do you think she’ll behave, now that you’ve spoken to her?”

Gwaine sighs, running a hand over his chin. “I don’t know. She never actually said she was sorry,”

“Oh,” Your heart sinks.

“I’ll work something out,” He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I won’t let anyone spoil our night,”

Gwaine waits beside the courtyard steps, greeting his fellow knights as they approach, chests heaving and brows sweaty from their afternoon training.

“Enjoy your respite while you can, Gwaine,” Percival grins, giving Gwaine a playful slap on the shoulder as he passes.

About a quarter of an hour goes by, and the man he’s been waiting for comes into view, a bundle of swords and shields slung over his back.

“Merlin!” Gwaine calls out as he crosses the courtyard to meet his friend. “Let me help you with that,”

“You shouldn’t, it could aggravate your injury,” Merlin says in a strained voice.

“I think I can manage carrying a few swords,” Gwaine says, already taking some from Merlin’s bundle.

Merlin nods in thanks and keeps walking.

“Everything alright?” He asks as they climb the courtyard steps.

“Yes and no,” Gwaine replies. “(Y/N) is going to the feast with me,”

“I heard,” Merlin grins. “I’m glad you two were able to sort things out,”

Gwaine smiles. “Me too. There is a problem though. My sister is going to be there and it’s making (Y/N) anxious. Honestly, it’s making me anxious too,”

“You’re worried she’ll try to ruin yours and (Y/N)’s night?” Merlin asks, stepping inside the castle and turning down a passage.

“I am,”

“What are you going to do?”

“I wondered if you, being the physician’s apprentice, might know of something that could… prevent Erika from attending,”

Merlin stops in his tracks. “What, like poison?” He says in an alarmed whisper.

“No! Who do you think I am, Merlin?” Gwaine shakes his head, wide-eyed. “I mean something that might make her a bit… unwell, or unsightly, so she won’t want to be seen in public,”

Merlin purses his lips thoughtfully. “Leave it to me,”

#gwaine x reader #reader x gwaine #merlin fic #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin fic #gwaine #sir gwaine #reader insert #my writing

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rashomonss · 2 years ago

Text

A HUMANS WRATH

Part X

previous part

taglist: @miridiums-writing, @zerchlia, @aeongiies, @xmoogx, @coffeeandtealol, @food-lover9000, @l0diluvs, @vichsy, @valeriele3, @entolomaeden, @acaribeau, @sillybeanzo, @jessiegerl, @capricorn-anon, @crescentworld, @g-l-1-t-c-h-3-r, @chumbinhoeba, @chaos-n-kindness, @strawberryfire17, @zenxvii, @misscaller06, @luminarysol, @simpinginthecorner, @your-next-daydream, @bontensbabygirl

a/n: let’s gooo!! this is officially the 10th chapter of a humans wrath! how are y’all liking the story so far? and don’t worry because there’s plenty more chapters to come! also I’m so sorry for making y’all wait this long life’s been kinda hectic right now especially since I got sick twice, but I seriously thought I posted this instead it’s just been sitting in my drafts… also we’re going back to the original timeline rn enjoy!

warnings: lesson 16 spoilers, choking, mentions of killing, angst

I’ll make sure you’ll know what it feels like

“-don’t know what happened!”

“-.... some space”

“.... calm down”

They were all so loud. All the voices in your room sounded familiar….were they the brothers?

Opening your eyes you winced at the harsh light of your room causing someone to freak out and turn it off. Someone else then turned on a small lamp by your bedside.

After a few moments you sat up and tried to adjust yourself, slowly recalling what had happened; however some loud voices had soon interrupted your thought process.

“You woke them up idiot!”

“Ow! You didn’t have to hit me! Besides blame Asmo not me, he was hovering over them”

“Don’t put the blame on me! You're the one who freaked out when Lucifer said they fainted”

“Shut up! I did not”

“Did too”

“Did not!

“Did too”

“How would you both like to hang from the ceiling for the next five hours”

“Eeep!”

“Wait, we're sorry!”

“Idiots”

“Would you like to join them, Satan?”

“I’ll kill you”

“Could you all quiet down, please” you said, grabbing your head.

The talking stopped and all seven of them turned to look at you. Concerned faces then turned into sparkling eyes as each of them threw themselves on you shouting your name.

It took you a second to register that six demons were now suffocating you. Once it did register however you yelled at them to get off, pushing some off in the process. A few looked at you with sad expressions and then looked towards the eldest brother.

“Don’t be upset, they pushed you off. After all, how would you feel after being rudely woken up?” He said, sighing.

The brothers then looked towards you and apologized, but you returned their apology with a blank stare. Even if it was a matter as small as this one you won’t forgive them.

“Let’s give Mc some space, once they’re good and ready they can come and get us” Lucifer then said realizing you were beginning to feel uncomfortable.

So he then corralled his brothers out of the room and shut the door behind them despite many protests and angry faces. After he made his way towards you, wearing a solemn expression.

“Let’s talk whenever you feel better. I’ll be waiting for you in my office” Lucifer nodded. Without another word he left, leaving you in the dimly lit silence of your room.

Sighing you rolled over in your bed and faced the wall. You didn’t really want to talk to the others, especially Lucifer for that matter. But for some reason a small part of you wanted too, which somewhat annoyed you.

The longer you laid in bed, the more you found yourself wanting to see them again. Which was unnatural because you’ve never experienced that before. This was probably an effect that voice had on you before fainting.

You’ll deal with it later, you thought. This feeling was becoming annoying and you were starting to get hungry. Turning over to face your bedside table you grabbed your D.D.D. and went to the messages.

And what you found were so many you never received before. So many conversations the you here was a part of. So many in which all the beings closest to them expressed just how much they loved them.

You were shocked because you had never really paid attention to the messages in this D.D.D. You only used it to contact the angels and sorcerer. There was much you did pay attention to, you then thought.

You sent Mammon a quick message before getting completely distracted, asking him to bring you some food. His reply was fast, it made you wonder if he was the type to have your chat with him pinned.

This you actually had a few pinned chats at the top of their messages. The first was the “House of Lamentation (New)”. The second and third were “The Royals” and “The Angels”. And lastly was “Lucifer, you S*CK” which made you laugh a bit.

As you continued to read through messages you found out a few more things about the you that resided here.

For starters, the brothers were always getting into trouble and you were always fixing it. Next was the fact that the brothers liked to message you about the most random and unnecessary things, but you still choose to humor them anyway. Why is that?

Third, was that you liked to visit the Lord Demons castle frequently for tea. And fourth was that the bond you shared with the brothers here was nothing more than something special to each of you.

A knock was suddenly heard at your door causing you to jolt and sit up.

“I’m comin’ in okay?” The voice said.

Before you had the chance to respond Mammon pushed open the door carrying a tray of food. When his eyes met yours he smiled and you gave a small smile in response.

“Here ya go. I didn’t know what ya wanted so I just bought a bit of everything” Mammon said, before putting the tray in front of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said, then began to eat.

Mammon pulled up a chair from your table and sat in front of your bed watching as you picked at the food in front of you. Neither of you said a word but your eyes met his countless times, it looked as if he had something to say but for some reason he wouldn’t say it.

Once you finished he took the tray from you and placed it on the table, then he sat back down and looked at you.

Silence filled the room again, only this time it made you feel a bit awkward. Since he hadn’t said anything yet you spoke, deciding that here and now you would be serious with him in what you were thinking of doing.

“Mammon I want to tell you something”

“Oh what’s up? Ya know you can tell me anything” he smiled.

You looked at his smile, maybe a small part of you felt bad, but in the end you were still the same old you with the same old feeling of hatred for the brothers.

“I want to sever our pact.”

With that the color drained from his face and he stared at you dumbfounded. “What do you mean sever the pact” he said, finally managing to get out.

“I mean I don’t want a pact with you anymore, so let’s break it off. Besides, what kind of demon like you would want a pact with a human such as myself?”

“Wait Mc, let’s talk this over okay? Ya don’t need to be so impulsive with decisions like this ya know” Mammon said, frantically waving his hands around.

“But I’ve given this enough thought and I’m completely sure of myself. Unless you give me a good reason as to why I shouldn’t do this, then I will sever our pact myself.”

“I, I um, well.” Mammon said. His brain was running a mile a minute trying to think of something, anything to say to you. A part of him was upset because he knew that you weren’t his Mc, however he had to stop you before you did something you would regret in the future.

“Mc. Please don’t do this.” He begged, grabbing both of your hands.

The action alone made you want to gag, but unlike the first time he touched you while you were here, this was bearable.

“Is that all? That’s not much of an argument.”

“No, that's not what I meant!” He yelled. “I just don’t want you to do somethin’ you’re gonna regret later.”

You raised an eyebrow and narrowed your eyes at the demon in front of you. “Bold of you to think I would regret something as simple as this. Besides if the only reason you want to keep a pact is to show it off then we’re through”

“What? Where the hell did ya get that idea?” Mammon asked, baffled. The second eldest sighed and looked towards you again before talking.

“I don’t want to sever our pact okay. I don’t wanna lose that connection I have with ya…”

“I was your first man, remember? And as your first I promised to be there for you all the time so don’t go tryna get rid of me now, because it’s not happening ya hear?” Mammon said.

He tried to appear calm and collected as he spoke but in reality he was gripping his pants with all of his strength in hopes he could have persuaded you to not sever your pact.

His anxiety only shot up more when you gave him a blank stare after he finished.

You sighed and then laughed.

Mammon looked at you wide eyed and confused. Was something he said funny? Was it a good thing you were laughing? He didn’t know what was going on and frankly it scared him a bit.

“That was sweet” you thought.

Maybe you won’t sever the pact just yet, you could wait just a bit more. No later than a second an idea popped into your head. If you were to ask each of the brothers the same question how would they respond? You wanted to find out, to see the utter shock on their faces as they tried to come up with an answer.

So that’s just what you sought out to do.

“Alright you win for now.” You said to Mammon, who finally was able to breathe in response.

“Really?” He exclaimed. Mammon was so ecstatic that he was ready to hug you.

However as he launched himself towards you he saw the annoyed face you made as well as the way you flinched away from him. So he stopped and looked towards you.

“Can I…can I hug ya?”

Your eyes went wide as you processed his words, none of them had ever asked if you were okay with being touched before.

After the incident you made a no touching rule due to the sheer fear you harbored after the youngest killed you, but they always choose to ignore it and touch you anyway which resulted in you using the pacts. However, for someone to actually ask you if you were okay with being touched threw you off a bit.

You blinked a few times then nodded slowly.

Mammon slowly made his way towards you and hugged you gently, and much to both of yours surprise you returned the gesture.

After your conversation with Mammon you then went to speak to Levi.

When you told him about wanting to sever your pact he fell off his gaming chair and had a conniption. You’ve never seen him cry before until then, honestly it was a bit refreshing in a sense. But wait did that make you a sadist?

After you spoke to him about severing the pact he claimed that if you did he’d have no reason left to live, which you paid no attention to. However he did confess that he loved you dearly after you said that his previous statement wasn’t a good enough reason for you. It was embarrassing enough for him so you left it at that.

Next was Beel and his reason was actually the only one you felt somewhat touched by.

Beel had told you that he loved you more than anything or anyone. He did mention his love for his twin and brothers, but he said you were different. You were everything to him, so if you broke the connection you had with him then he expressed how upset he would be. But he was the first to say that it was your choice and if you really wanted too then he wouldn’t stop you. You thought that was a decent enough response so you chose to keep the pact with him for now.

Asmo in the end had the same reaction as Levi, the only difference was his mascara ran because he cried more. Like Levi, Asmo exclaimed that he couldn’t live without you, however what you didn’t expect was him to compliment you till you were red in the face. So along with the others your pact with him stayed for another day.

Finally you had made your way to Satan.

You hadn’t spoken to the fourth born much while you were here however he did feed off of numerous amounts of your wrath making you less angry than usual, instead he was more irritable.

You knocked on his door and after a second a quiet “Come in” could be heard. Upon entering you saw him chained to a chair reading a book, and when he made out your figure he narrowed his eyes just the slightest bit.

“Still angry? After being that upset for so long I would have thought you'd be tired by now.” He asked.

“And I thought you would have been set free already but it appears not.”

Satan raised one of his eyebrows then spoke. “I never knew that a human as sweet and tiny as you could harbor so much hatred for others. Sometimes I felt it truly rivaled mine”

You laughed then and continued as well. “ Oh you think so?”

“Please Mc, I haven’t felt that angry since I was born”

You laughed and looked towards him, and before you could even speak he said “no”.

“No?” You questioned, confused.

“I heard you were going around telling everyone that you were debating on severing our pacts. And my answer is no, you will not sever your pact with me.”

You nodded in response. “So that’s your argument? Honestly I’m surprised, I would have thought you wouldn’t have cared”

Satan looked a bit shocked then spoke. “Of course I care about you Mc. I care about you more than anything, hell I worry more about you more than anything.”

“You really do have a way with words,” you replied, all the brothers did. Each buttered you up when you asked them to state their reasoning for not wanting to sever the pact.

Satan didn’t know if that was supposed to be a compliment or not; well that was until he could feel rage boiling up inside you again.

“Mc, l-”

“Let’s leave it at that for now, I have someone else to go see” you said walking out before he could finish.

As the door closed you then made your way down the hallway, and the sound of things being thrown around again in Satan’s room could be heard.

Next was the youngest brother. You decided to go to him first before Lucifer because you didn’t want to see him just yet. In actuality you didn’t want to see Belphegor either but you’d eventually have to speak to him about your pact sometime.

Beel had mentioned his twin was in the planetarium the last time you spoke to him so that’s where you were currently on your way to. Pushing open the door you saw the youngest laying on a bench surprisingly awake at that.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you tried to calm your breathing. There was always something going wrong whenever you would see Belphegor. For example your chest would tighten to the point where you won’t be able to breath so you’d leave before you even got the chance to talk to him. Or your voice would get very shaky and you’d feel your hands sweat whenever you would pick on him.

It was hard to even be alone in a room with him because of the constant fear you had of being killed again. That fear played a large part into how you acted towards the brothers now. If it wasn’t for that constant fear of being on the brink of death again then you wouldn’t be as strict as you usually are.

Maybe if you were never killed in the first place you wouldn’t be like this, you thought staring at the ceiling of the planetarium.

“Are you going to come in?” Belphegor asked, looking over the bench.

Your eyes went wide then you took a deep breath before completely walking into the room. sitting next to the bench he was sitting on. You made sure to put some distance between the two of you just in case of anything.

“Why don’t you feel comfortable around me anymore?” Belphegor asked. He wasn’t even surprised about it since his question came off as very blunt. After he asked you he sat up and faced you tilting his head waiting for your response.

“Take a guess, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out,” you said, not looking back at him.

The demon in response sighed and laid back down, turning over to face the ceiling. “Is it because I messed up your bed again?”

“You’d think I’d be this upset over such a small thing? Well you're not wrong, however that is not why I'm upset.”

Belphegor knew what you were referring to, however he didn’t want to bring it up. He hoped after the whole thing happened you’d forget it, and you actually did to his surprise. It’s not like he didn’t want to apologize, he just never thought the time would be right. Maybe he shouldn’t have waited this long but he couldn’t help it. He was a coward.

Belphegor was afraid of what you would say if he did apologize. He was afraid to say anything to you because he didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he killed you. You were someone so dear to him now, and the fact that he took away your life once was something he’d liked to forget.

However for you to now take out your anger on him and him alone because you remembered that one trivial event really took a toll on him. But maybe he did deserve it.

Maybe this was finally his karma being served to him, no matter the circumstances he didn’t like seeing you this upset.

He was going to apologize. Now was the time, even if it was too late he was still going to try, he thought siting back up to face you.

“Mc I-“

“Shut up”

Belphegor felt his mouth snap shut at your command.

Your eyes finally met his, and they were ones filled with pure wrath. So much so that it could even rival Satan’s own.

“I was going to ask you the same thing I asked all of your brothers, but being here in the same room with you has changed my mind” you said.

“You don’t deserve my attention”

As you said that you leaned closer to the Avatar of Sloth as he slouched onto the bench. He appeared to be trying to distance himself from you but you continued to close the gap by towering over him.

“Stay.”

As you issued another command he jolted in place. This version of you was dangerous, he knew that much. But as you continued to stare him down only now did he truly feel helpless.

“I hate you, you know that? It’s because of you that I have panic attacks now. It’s your fault I get so upset. You are dead to me and you always will be.” You exclaimed lifting your hand up.

“I’ll make sure you know just what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you trusted so dearly.”

Reaching out you grabbed his throat with your right hand and squeezed. Belphegor made a choking sound in response as he struggled to breathe. Upon hearing that you put another hand around his neck then pushed him further onto the bench.

Belphegor was scared. He wouldn’t want to admit it but having you choke him without him being able to fight back really did terrify him.

Was this how you felt?

As you continued to squeeze his neck harder he felt himself become lightheaded, but what scared him the most was the look on your face.

You looked so happy.

So….relieved. You finally made him understand what it feels like. Why didn’t you just do this sooner? Well it doesn’t matter in the end, you finally got what you wanted you thought, as a single tear fell from Belphegor’s eye. His vision was becoming blurry but he was still able to make out your last statement before passing out. And it was,

“I am going to kill you”

Next Part

#obey me shall we date #obey me #omswd #demon brothers #obey me angst #omswd angst #omswd mc #obey me mc #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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devildomditzy · 4 months ago

Note

Are there any fob songs you associate with Mammon? I was on a listening spree earlier when Disloyal Order came on and "What a match, I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet" feels so MC/Mammon coded.

aksjs sorry my two interests constantly intertwine, and Mammon lives in my mind rent free 👉👈

oh ho ho I should have a large sign on my back that says please talk to me about fall out boy

I’m going to just give you the list and the lyrics, but this will still be a loooong ass post

I'm sorry this post took so long anon it's been sitting in my drafts forever.

From Evening Out With Your Girlfriend

Moving Pictures

"Last night I saw a movie And I thought about many movies I've seen at your house Excuse me if I'm rude But I'd rather that we just strike from the record ones I'd see again without you Leaning on my shoulder Distracting me from the plot line

Where can I go when I want you around But I can't stand to be around you? Go home, I'll walk myself to you I'll walk myself away from here"

From Take This To Your Grave

Grand Theft Autumn/Where is Your Boy?

"You need him, I could be him I could be an accident, but I'm still trying And that's more than I can say for him"

From From Under The Cork Tree

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me

"And you're just the girl all the boys wanna dance with And I'm just the boy who's had too many chances I'm sleepin' on your folks' porch again, dreamin' She said, she said, she said, "Why don't you just drop dead?" I don't blame you for bein' you But you can't blame me for hating it So, say, what are you waiting for, kiss her, kiss her I set my clocks early 'cause I know I'm always late"

Of All The Gin Joints of All The World

"We're making out inside crashed cars We're sleeping through all our memories I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive (now I only waste my time dreaming of you)

Turn off the lights and turn off the shyness 'Cause all of our moves make up for the silence And oh, the way your makeup stains my pillowcase Like I'll never be the same"

Sugar We’re Goin Down

"Am I more than you bargained for yet? I've been dying to tell you Anything you wanna hear 'Cause that's just who I am this week"

From Infinity on High

Bang the Doldrums

"Best friends, ex-friends 'til the end Better off as lovers and not the other way around Racing through the city, windows down In the back of yellow checkered cars"

The Take Over, The Breaks Over

"Baby, seasons change, but people don't, and I'll always be waiting in the back room I'm boring, but overcompensate with Headlines and flash, flash, flash photography"

"Wouldn't you rather be a widow than a divorcee? Style your wake for fashion magazines Widow or a divorcee? Don't pretend, d-d-d-don't pretend"

From Folie à Deux

Disloyal Order of the Water Buffalos

"Oh, I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine What a match, I'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet"

Tiffany Blews

"Oh baby, you're a classic Like a little black dress You're a faded moon Stuck on a little hot mess (little hot mess) Whoa, whoa"

From Save Rock and Roll

Miss Missing You

"Making eyes at this husk around my heart I see through you when we're sitting in the dark So give me your filth, make it rough Let me, let me trash your love

I will sing to you every day If it will take away the pain Oh, and I've heard you got it, got it so bad 'Cause I am the best you'll never have"

Where Did the Party Go?

"This is the story of how they met Her picture was on the back of a pack of cigarettes And when she touched him he turned ruby red A story that they'll never forget, never forget"

From American Beauty/ American Psycho

Jet Pack Blues

"Did you ever love her? Do you know? (I remember) Or did you never want to be alone? (I remember)"

From Mania

Last of the Real Ones

"I was just an only child of the universe And then I found you, and then I found you You are the sun and I am just the planets Spinning around you, spinning around you You were too good to be true, gold plated But what's inside you? But what's inside you? I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you But not as much as I do, as much as I do, yeah"

Hold Me Tight or Don’t

"I got too high again, realized I can't not be with you Or be just your friend, I love you to death, but I just can't I just can't pretend, we were lovers first Confidants but never friends, were we ever friends?

But when your stitch comes loose, I wanna sleep on Every piece of fuzz and stuffing that comes out of you You, I took too many hits off this memory I need to come down"

From So Much For Stardust

Flu Game

"Last night I dreamt I still knew you You I carved out a place in this world for two But it's empty without you

I got all this love I've got to keep to myself All this effort to make it look effortless"

Hold Me Like a Grudge

"Hold me, hold me like a grudge The world is always spinning, and I can't keep up, woah Faster and faster, can't do it on my own Part-time soulmate, full-time problem, yeah So, hold me like a grudge"

"Call you up and demand, you have no fun without me"

From Believers Never Die Volume Two

Bob Dylan

"When they say, "You and what army?" I guess they're talking about you and me Baby, nobody will love you, nobody will love you like Like I do,��I guess that's half true"

"Baby, no one ever thinks of you, no one ever thinks of you As much as I do, not, not even you"

"Cause everyone loves Bob Dylan I just want you to love me like that, yeah Would you bury me next to Johnny Cash? I'm obsessed, do you love me like that? Yeah

I'm sure there's a million more of their songs/lyrics I could correlate to him but we'd be here all day.

I could literally yap about Mammon and Fall Out Boy all day.

#kit's playhouse #om #obey me #mammon #omnb #mammon x mc #asks and answers

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johannaflowers · 8 days ago

Text

The twenty-first day of Writemas

Trying to write a scene with two characters from a novel I am currently drafting. Not sure if this is going to be in the main story exactly like this, but I can imagine the two of them having a similar conversation either way.

Thanks to @agirlandherquill for the prompts and the challenge in general, I'm having a lot of fun with this!

The prompt I used:

He swallowed silence until he was full, until his tongue was in knots no-one could undo.

---

It wasn't possible. Oswin knew that it was just not possible. Nique wouldn't, she would never do something like that.

The edges of his vision started to flicker and his gut felt like it had suddenly dropped to the floor. He was struggling for air, somehow it didn't seem to go all the way down into his lungs. Heavily breathing he felt the floor give way underneath him and he urgently held on to the walls.

"Oswin, there you are, I need to-"

Somebody had come through the door, shoes shuffling across the squeaking hard-wood floor. Oswin felt hands on his shoulders, a firm grip steadying his shaking body.

"What's wrong?" Theodor's voice. Where did he come from?

Oswin tried to say something, anything, but his heart was beating in his throat and the words couldn't seem to get past it.

He felt Theodor's grip tighten. "I'll get you to your room, good?", his friend asked.

Without waiting for a reply he put Oswin's arm over his shoulders and dragged him up the stairs.

It was easy leaning against Theodor, Oswin thought.

"Oswin, do you hear me?"

They'd made it up to the first floor, Oswin couldn't recall how. He nodded.

"Tell me something you see."

He felt dizzy trying to make out what was in front of him. "I see-", he started, but it came out like the cry of a wounded crow. He cleared his throat. "I see the door to my room."

"Good", said Theodor, panting from the effort of half carrying Oswin. "Now something you hear?"

Oswin frowned. What exactly did Theodor want from him?

"Go on, it helps."

He focused on his surroundings. "I hear our footsteps."

"And what do you feel?"

The touch of your hand that's slipped under my shirt, Oswin thought. It felt good. Warm. Save, maybe?

"Exhausted", he said instead.

Theodor chuckled. "Me too."

They'd reached Oswin's room and Theodor cranked the door open.

"Is there something you smell?", he asked as he let Oswin fall to his bed.

Oswin was glad to finally sit down and not feel the world turning any more. But his skin burned where Theodor had touched him and the cool air made him shiver as it suddenly collided with the heat. He did smell something, yes. Theodor. All over him. How has he never noticed before that the alchemist smelled like freshly pressed linen and roasted coffee beans?

He shook his head. No. Nique. He wanted her over him. He wanted to smell her, feel her touch. But she-

"Your sweat", he replied quickly, noticing he'd not said anything yet.

Theodor snorted. "Seems you're all good again, I'll head out."

"Sorry", said Oswin, "and thanks. I don't know… I mean I've never…" He trailed off, not quite sure what to even say. What had happened to him just now? He'd never felt that way before, never had this horrid feeling of loosing the connection with his own body. He couldn't even picture Nique in his head, his stomach turned when he tried.

Theodor didn't move and Oswin was glad for it. He didn't want to be alone. At least not until he felt like himself again. Or something. But he didn't say it, said nothing because he didn't know the words.

"Do you want to talk about it?", asked Theodor.

"Nothing to talk about."

"Have you had a panic attack before?"

Oswin's head snapped up in surprise. "How do you-?"

Theodor sighed. "I've had them throughout my entire childhood." He looked at Oswin with a halfsmile, that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I get overwhelmed easily. You know, when there's too many people or too much noise."

Oswin felt the sudden urge to hold Theodor in his arms and protect him from whatever annoyance might cause him harm.

He quickly looked down, staring at the floor with an intensity that might soon burn a hole into it. What was he thinking? Theodor had just seen him make an absolute fool of himself, why did he think he would even as much as talk to him after this day? And why was there only Theodor on his mind when it should be Nique?

He wanted to say something, ask Theodor to touch him again. Or to move his lips some more, because they looked so endearing when he did. Or maybe just to stay a little longer. But he couldn't. He didn't know what was going on, his heart belonged to Nique, had always belonged to Nique. So instead he swallowed silence until he was full, until his tongue was in knots no-one could undo.

Theodor ran his hand through his hair and it suddenly felt awkward between them.

"I've got some work to do", he said. "Make sure to get some rest. I'll see you later."

Please stay with me. Don't leave me here. Oswin swallowed, but the words got stuck in his throat.

---

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this first little glimpse into a story that has been with me for the last eight years already.

#writemas #writeblr #me writing #female writer #novel draft

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folliesandfolderols · 11 months ago

Text

Writing prompts days 22, 23

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven’t written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. And then somehow it turned into “I’m going to write a single interconnected story utilizing all of these prompts” which ?????, what can I say, I am incredibly foolish and there's no limit to my capacity for self-deceit. Anyway, the first draft is finished (at around 88k words) and I'll be unlocking posts here on tumblr as I edit.

read from the beginning here

Day 21 here

***

28. "Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now."

121. "I'd fuck you right here, right now, if I could."

***

Steph wasn't wrong. Tim really, really hated to apologize. Not because he saw it as losing face, or anything like that. It was because then he had to admit he fucked up, which might possibly mean he was a piece of shit. It just seemed like at some point he should be able to be the type of person who only caused harm because he meant to, and not because he hadn't slept in too long, like a cranky toddler.

But he was also not a chickenshit, so he suited up at home and left through one of the two concealed exits in the basement level as soon as he knew Damian would be on patrol. (And three nights in a row was a lot—he made a mental note to check the patrol rotation again when he returned home, because Tim wasn't the only one who needed sleep.)

He found Damian sitting on top of one of a huge stack of containers at the harbor, overlooking the ships being offloaded. Without trying to make the process soundless, Tim landed on the opposite end of the container. Damian's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't bother turning around.

Tim bit the inside of his lip, considering. He hadn't been able to work out the most appropriate method to begin this conversation despite all his brainstorming on the way over, so he'd finally decided he would just wing it. But now that the reality was staring him in the face—or determinedly giving him its back—he found himself nearly speechless.

Which was unacceptable. Right. When in doubt, dive in, and fix it later if it goes tits-up. (The part of his brain that offered constant commentary on his own thoughts gave the notion a hazy attribution to John Constantine, who was hardly a stellar example, but the principle was sound.)

Accordingly, he opted for the straightforward route. "I've come to apologize."

Damian gave a derisive tt but made no other acknowledgement.

"Would you mind taking your comm out for just a second? I'd prefer this not be accidentally shared with the entire crew."

He could tell Damian struggled with the concession, too angry to want to give an inch, but in the end discretion won out. He plucked the comm from his ear but kept his back turned. "Despite whatever Brown's inevitable gossipy meddling may have led you to believe, I do not require an apology."

Tim took a deep breath and paced a little closer, still keeping a prudent six feet between them. "I'm not here because of anything Steph said. I'm here because I fucked up and I need to make it right."

Damian snorted in contempt. "I assure you, there is no need. For me to accept such a thing would indicate you inflicted some sort of injury upon me. Which would imply you somehow developed skill and significance enough for that to occur. Which in turn is nonsense."

"Believe me, I'm well aware," Tim replied, and couldn't keep his tone from going dry as the desert. Damian's hands gave an inexplicable twitch at the words. "But be that as it may, we are still on the same team, and yesterday I acted like you were the enemy for no good reason. Yeah, you overstepped. But it was out of concern for my well-being and the safety of the family, so I should've been more understanding." He drummed one fist against his thigh, waiting for a response, but when none was forthcoming, braced himself and gave one more offering of vulnerability. "I was maybe still a little off-kilter from the dream. That one—ever since Insomnia fucked with my head, I've had the nightmare he gave me recur sometimes. Where it's not just Boomerang and my dad who die. It's most of us too. Except me. So I was definitely not at my best." A long pause, and still no sound. "I'm just gonna keep talking until you shut me up, but I'm pretty sure you're going to have to face me to do that, so . . ."

Damian's shoulders lowered the slightest bit. "Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now, and at least three of them don't involve turning around." He did give a quarter-turn, though. He wasn't looking at Tim, but his body was angled so Tim could at least see his profile. "They do mostly involve some sort of bloodshed, however."

"What a surprise. Not that I'm saying I don't deserve it." Tim dared to come within arm's reach. "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so angry and I said a lot of shit I didn't mean." He had turned off the white-outs on his domino, but Damian's were still firmly in place, so Tim couldn't tell which way he was looking. His ear was tilted toward Tim and he was clearly listening, and that would have to be enough to keep going. "You were right. I was being a baby."

Damian's chin dipped, and he angled his face away again. "Perhaps you were correct about some things as well. I regret not bringing up the issue with you instead of Father. And . . . other actions." Color crept up his cheeks.

Tim drew close enough to feel Damian's body heat radiating against what little skin he had exposed. A sudden sensory memory assailed him: leaning his face into the crook of Damian's neck, pressed together in a line from chest to dick. A wave of remembered arousal washed through him and left him aching with its recession. "If I made you regret we fucked, I'm ten times as sorry. You shouldn't have your memory of that ruined by me having been a jerk later."

Damian shrugged, a quick jerky motion entirely at odds with his usual grace. "I cannot argue with the final accusation you leveled at me."

Tim's mouth twisted as regret carved a hole in his chest. "Yes you can. You should. Don't agree with Temper-Tantruming Tim. He's an asshole and he only tells the worst part of the truth. I don't regret fucking you, Dami. I'm flattered you asked me. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Damian leaned toward him at the confession, every muscle betraying how badly he wanted to hear it. Tim suppressed a smile. He should have known praise would be his way in. "I'd fuck you right here, right now, if I could."

He reached out a cautious hand and grasped Damian's gauntleted fingers. Damian heaved a sigh of his own but didn't pull away. "I suppose you're aware that you could."

Tim couldn't stop himself from laughing aloud at that. "Fuck you right here? Yeah, if I want Oracle to take video and give notes on my performance." He reached up to tap the tiny depression on his domino that cleared Damian's white-outs.

Damian met his gaze straightforwardly, but it clearly cost him some effort. "Then perhaps you should do it where she can't see."

Tim pretended to consider, but it was a done deal as far as his dick was concerned. "You think so?" At Damian's firm nod, he grinned. "Better head back to my place after we're done, then."

Movement down at the harbor caught his eye. A group of men were creeping toward a particular container, hiding behind others as they went. "Hey, there's something going on. Wanna take a closer look together?"

"Naturally. I have not been standing here for my health. Let's go."

But before they did, Damian brought Tim's knuckles to his mouth, and Tim could've sworn he felt the burn of the kiss even through the Kevlar that separated their skin.

days twenty-four, twenty-five, and twenty-six here

#damitim #tim and damian and 150 prompts #like I know what you want #folliefic

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caspersickfanfics · 9 months ago

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Late Arrival chapter 3 was incredible ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!

With the way it went, I was expecting Cyno to be the one to have the anxiety attack at the prospect of going to the bimarstan, but then I was like "oh no, wait, Tighnari is the one getting the symptoms here!" Which I honestly love, because JUST IMAGINE THE STRESS HE'S UNDER! I truly thought Cyno was out of the woods after chapter 2, of course Tighnari also thought so, so Cyno suddenly getting sick again would of course freak him out. It's so much pressure on his shoulders, because essentially if things go south, Cyno's life is in his hands. And as he stresses in the chapter, he's not a doctor, he doesn't 100% trust his own judgement, but taking Cyno in would cause so much stress and- argh! The whole situation was just BAD, I completely understand why Tighnari crumbled under that pressure. He deserves some good, GOOD rest after all this, the poor boy 😭

I also just. I love the start. Cyno waking Tighnari up, and his little "I need to throw up." I loved that so much ahh!

Now I gotta sit down at some point and reread all three chapters as one!

HELLO I'm so glad you enjoyed it ahhh!!! I also just realized that I forgot to post your ask from chapter 2 which I feel awful about I am so sorry 😭 I'll release it from my drafts as soon as I'm done rereading this message 300 times ahaha

I'm so intrigued by this because some of the readers predicted Tighnari getting sick, but as the writer it honestly caught me off guard too 😂 but yes!! Exactly, he was just under so much pressure and he felt a bit trapped, knowing how resistant Cyno is to seeing an actual doctor. And he was so tired, not to mention the headache... poor Tighnari. I wish I knew how to write fluff because I feel like this story deserves a wholesome little epilogue where they both get some good rest in. I just. Have no idea what to do with a fic when the angst is gone lmao but I imagine they get lots of cuddles and perhaps have a friendly guest or two *cough cough* Kaveh and maybe Alhaitham *cough cough* come by to check in and make them both food. I like the idea of someone demanding Tighnari rest and he does but he gets really bossy. Like "You told me not to do anything so now you have to do all of it for me" >:)

I also really like the start of this chapter, so it makes me really happy that you liked it as well!!! <3

If you reread the whole thing, I just really hope it feels somewhat cohesive. That's the thing that makes me nervous about multi-chapter fics. It's tough, making sure they feel connected while also trying not to be too repetitive?? Idk, it's a new skill I'll have to acquire I guess!!

Thank you so much for all of your kind words, this really made my day!!! <333

#kind words <3 #dutifullyshamelessearthquake #<333

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movedtodykedvonte · 2 years ago

Note

4 22 31 and 32 fic asks???

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

Whatever feels like I won't lose interest soon. Like I wait a month before writing any fic even if I really want to. If I lose interest in the idea or fandom by that point then I obvi don't write the fic. If I can't dedicate a month to loving something then how can I dedicate the time to a fic? Even then interest could wane.

Usually, the fics have to be well thought out to me first too like I have to constantly think about characterization and plot points or else it's probs not gonna be worth it.

22. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

I title each fic twice actually. The title that gave me the idea and then the title that fits better with the chapter(s) or story. Like if it's an au like CDAP, then the au will be the title for a bit before I decide on a central theme or message that I tend to condense into a fic title. However, occasionally I get bored and make a fic where the title is the vague summary

As for coming up with titles, it depends. Usually, if the fic is super descriptive, the title will be shorter, and vice versa. However, I like titles that are long for no real reason or are like grammatical sentences. It usually will have to do with an event in the story or a play on words to relate to the characters.

31. Do you use a beta reader/editor?

I got three irl beta readers which is pretty wild. Like I sit in front of them and just wait for them to finish reading the draft off my laptop and have to remember they are reading about Spamton and his partners' pseudo-couples counseling.

32. Do you take fic requests? Why or why not?

I do! I think it's in my pin post what I sorta will and won't write but I think i've made it clear I do in the past! I like requests cause I can still choose to do them, and they help me not feel bored when the ideas for one fic aren't going. Like I feel like I'm neglecting a fic when I try to write another, unrelated one but usually that doesn't happen if someone asks me to write a fic about a certain scenario or headcanon. That way I can convince my brain I'm just elaborating on a pre-existing thing.

Tho, I can't always tell if an ask in my inbox about something is a request for a fic or just a general question so maybe it's good to specify if ur interested o-o...

#ask #anon #fic asks #i used to do like those little x reader scenario things for re8 #and i took a few dsaf requests but eh #i dont get much in terms of requests now

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bh-writingdump · 4 months ago

Text

zeek's freaks

zeek the dino slayer

[1st draft]

Ezekiel doesn’t think anyone else but Ocean will know about the dinosaur dream. It’s not even Ezekiel’s 1st memory, much less the 1st good one. Ezekiel remembers way further back. Back before even Ezekiel knew of mages and monsters, Ezekiel and Dr Drew were waiting somewhere. So young, Ezekiel doesn’t even remember where. Dr Drew was frowning. She always had a strong resting bitch face. Though it wasn’t as severe when she was younger.

Ezekiel tripped. Rather than chastise them for being “awkward” like she might post-mage, Dr Drew spoke. Her mouth moves but the words are lost to time. But the intent came through as she brushed you off. She always kept a packet of dry wipes just for Ezekiel because they couldn’t stand the smell and sensation of wet ones. With the dirt gone, she smiled, letting them admire the quick work. She smiled, full faced. Enough that it made her ears move ever so slightly.

Ezekiel remembers loving making her smile. That big beautiful smile that her tiny eyes twinkled and exploded into fireworks.

Ezekiel had thought of rewriting the memory with their other mom but she was rarely there, always out on business. It took a long time for Dr Drew to establish her practice. Someone had to be the reliable breadwinner.

Lost in the ache of a home of yore, Ezekiel doesn’t see Peaches barbs until they hear zem whisper. “dino-slayer.”

“What in the blazes are you going on about?”

P: after lights out, I wanna hear all about it.

Peaches darts away, leaving a sweet scent in zir wake. This is beyond idiotic but perhaps Ezekiel could get something done there. It seemed too often Ezekiel’s mind got choked out in the office. Dr Drew could come any minute but never down here.

That’s night, Ezekiel walked into Peaches cell. Files upon files of work in hand. Logging in all the files paper-electronic by hand took time, even more to get all the notes straight for possibly diagnosing monster ailments. One of the university doctors finally got back to Ezekiel. In exchange for covering the front desk for the receptionist an hour a morning, the receptionist took any calls for Ezekiel and didn’t report it up the chain of command.

The doctors gave some interpretations of the data and observations and possible treatments that could be started but the jargon was so thick that Ezekiel had to carry a monster’s traveler dictionary to parse it all out.

Peaches perks up sleepily, making grabby hands from atop zir coil. Ezekiel sighs, sitting down with their back against Peaches. Then using a box as a desk to highlight and process the files. Pat way through parsing out how soul fatigue may cause lesions in ectoflesh and the finer points of anatomy—Ezekiel feels Peaches shift beneath them. A distinctly happy hiss.

E: 10 more minutes.

P, more grumbling and dissatisfied hiss, tugging on hood-

E: I’m not sure if you’re aware but this I all for you. I can’t delay it tonight if I’m to ensure you’ll be able to start the correct treatment tomorrow. That lesion isn’t getting any smaller.

Peaches head pushes on Ezekiel’s head. A convenient work around to when Peaches would cuddle Ezekiel touch and pull relentlessly the moment Ezekiel got into the cell. Remarkable restraint but the light headbutts were having the desired effect. You weren’t getting anything done.

E you have my attention, Peaches, what can’t wait 10 minutes.

Peaches smiles at the attention, taking it as an invitation to scoop Ezekiel up in zir arms.

Peaches: tell me about the time you slapped a dinosaur

E: I didn’t.

P: Ocean disagrees.

E: in a dream.

P: so you did!

Ezekiel, seeing so way out of this, tells the story. Peaches rapt attention mind boggling. Ocean Ezekiel could understand. The exchanging of stories giving them something to talk about and scratching that social itch. Peaches and Ezekiel didn’t even need to talk for it to be enough. Hell, sometimes Peaches just curled up in Ezekiel’s lap and slept the whole night, not saying a word.

P: you didn’t kill it?

E: no

P: did you ever see it again

E: you’ve had dreams. It’s a one and done thing usually.

The good ones rarely came back.

P: if I had a dream, I would’ve had you become friends.

E: of course, you would.

P: then you’d go on adventures and slowly become closer and closer until as grown ups you grew apart.

Ezekiel gets steadily sleepier as Peaches goes on and on with your alter egos adventures around the city with said dinosaur companion

P: then one day you’d have a big—a re you even listening?

E, yawning: have we kissed yet?

P: okay, then what did you and Rexy do after you became honorary knights

E: killed a dragon.

P: you didn’t kill his brother. Ugh! do I need to tell it all over again

Ezekiel sits up, recognizing the tone of legitimate threat

E: I’m listening. What did my alter ego do with the teeth with legs.

P; you’ll need some context. On your latest project you saved the whole forest working together with Rex to create an antidote for a rare magical illness

E: I’m a medical doctor, fascinating

P: stop interrupting me or I’ll smother you

Peaches might have covered Ezekiel’s mouth after that.

P: while trying to find this rare plant, you get lost. Rex admits that you’re not just a friend to him but something else too.

E: hmmm

P: Precisely, Rex almost confesses to you but miraculously the two of you find a way out. It’s not until the party is thrown in both of your honors (you’re both scientists) that you ask Rex what he was trying to tell you.

Peaches helps Ezekiel turn over.

P: he looks into your eyes and says, “I love you, Ezekiel.” And you’re like, “I feel the same.” You kiss him on the forehead right here, “you’ll always be like a brother to me.”

E, snorts

P, ignores it: “But not to me.” Rex then kisses you on the lips

E: and you came up with all that in your head?

Ezekiel notices the smile dim slightly and grow sheepish

P: yeah?

E: it’s… impressive? You’re a quick thinker. Perhaps on the outside you should get into publishing. Write a magnificent romance? Erotica? Whatever you want. You certainly have the imagination for it.

Peaches dims each word Ezekiel utters but then brightens all of a sudden.

P: zeek, I care about you

E: you do?

P, deadpans: is this a joke?

E: no? why would you care? I’m legitimately surprised.

P, to the wall: Ocean, why can’t you be wrong for once?

Ezekiel tries to pick up their work only to be plopped back on Peaches’ lap., head sandwiched between Peaches’ hands.

P: I want you to get this through your big beautiful skull.

E: don’t bring my skull into this.

P: I care about you.

E: for cuddles, I know.

P: for more than cuddles.

E: emotional support?

P, stares

E: I’ve never been great at charades. Especially when my head is restrained to one angle.

P, glares: we’re hatchmates, you know what that means.

E: No… but I suppose you’ll enlighten me.

P; we may be from different clutches. Our nopas never met but we eat, sleep, and we protect each other as if we were.

Ezekiel opens their mouth but nothing comes out at first.

E: siblings in arms?

P: not siblings! You’re maing this weird.

E: alright, hatchmates in arms.

P: close enough

Peaches presses zir forehead to Ezekiel’s until Peaches eyes glow a bright fuchsia color. Ezekiel feels their soul thump louder. “We talk to each other. We fight whatever’s coming at us and we prevail.”

Ezekiel swallows thickly. It’s like their mind is swimming through syrup. Who knew head to head content would do this to them? Previous headbutts in school certainly didn’t feel like this.

E: you’ve… given me a lot to think about. Thank you.

P: Ezekiel, did I do something wrong?

Peaches doesn’t finish before Ezekiel scrambles out with all of their work. Still unsure what to do about their soul. Was it broken? Why was it acting so strange? Ezekiel can’t let Peaches know it’s damaged. Fearful that it may be infectious. [It doesn’t even cross Ezekiel’s mind that anyone could possibly be romantically interested in them in any fashion. Especially in the case of Peaches, who regularly flirts with everyone, so Ezekiel assumes they get the same treatment as everyone. It isn’t until Ezekiel notices a monster lamia couple bring their heads together on multiple occasions in fiction that Ezekiel questions the connotations that nobody in the prison does this and anytime it’s brought up with lamia people laugh at Ezekiel.]

Peaches worried pushed Ezekiel away.

#zeek's freaks

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douevenbleachbro · 2 years ago

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I need something else to look at then the fic I’m writing so I’ll do this!

Obviously I’m no book writer so this is coming from a simple fic writer xP

1: I haven’t written a multi-chaptered story in a very, very, long time. When I was younger and I started writing, I very rarely did one-shots. Most of the stuff I wrote was multi-chaptered. Huh, I wonder what changed?

Anyways, I never wrote chapters before hand and released them in a schedule or anything (logical) like that. The way my brain is wired is that, if I write a chapter, it goes up RIGHT AWAY! I can’t seem to sit on something. Which is crazy ‘cause who is waiting for this? Lol. So what ends up happening is that the other chapters get put in the back burner because I never have the energy or enthusiasm for them as I had for the first chapter. There is a potential multi-chaptered story I’m working on and I want to organize myself better. I will work on at least the first 3-5 chapters first before putting anything out. I don’t plan for it to be too long, but that’s famous last words for me, amirite?

2: Lmao a writing process, can you imagine? Ok, I am trying to get better at this. Originally, my process was called word-vomit. I would get an idea in my head, throw it at the google doc, and arrange words into a story, lol. Sometimes they would become something legible, which is what I would post, but most times I would lose steam halfway and delete the whole thing. There are a few fics (WTIACB, LFTH, and a few WIP’s) that I wish I would’ve wrote differently, or that I started to hate halfway through finishing it, and that was because I wasn’t organized. And I was rushed as well, lol. The GIR round robin chapter and the Rukia week fic are the two that I’m the proudest of because I didn’t just make up a story as I wrote and I think it shows in the quality of the writing.

So now, what I’m doing is outlining the shit out of my stories. I’m drafting every single detail and letting out the initial steam by dumping everything out of my brain (I put it here on my Tumblr lol) and what I’m left with is either a the foundation of a story I want to write or something that I thought could’ve been a good idea but maybe I don’t care about right now. It helps me clean out my brain of stuff that is just gibberish and organize my ideas into something that I would actually want to work on. Using Tumblr to “idea dump” was really helpful, mainly because I tend to forget things so having a source to go back to is very useful. Also, letting out that initial steam out by dumping the idea here makes my writing better because I actually stop myself and read back and make changes without worrying that I’m gonna “lose it”. I’m sure there are many different methods I can implement but for now, this is what works. My hope is that, with practice, I will improve both my writing skills and my overall grammar as well

Two questions for writers

1: When writing a series how far do you write before publishing the first book [like finish book one & once it's out w/ beta readers start book two, only start the next book after publishing book one, finish the whole series before book one is even out, etc] ?

2: What is your writing process [either what you’ve done from start to publication or what you're doing now & what you plan on doing if you haven't gotten to publishing yet [or if publishing isn't your goal] ] ?

#Emmi speaks #I was bored and this seemed fun #Im running away from writing lmao

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munsons-maiden · 3 years ago

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𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

Hi lovelies! To celebrate the trailer release, here’s a sweet little blurb with our favourite surfer boy. I hope you enjoy it, and I can’t wait to finally post all the other stories for Billy sitting in my drafts! - Love, Kiki ♡

¡uʍoᗡ ǝpısd∩ ǝɥʇ uı noʎ ǝǝS

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Billy Hargrove x gender neutral reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Billy teaches you how to surf.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | fluff

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | none, it’s just fluff

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝🖤

It was a perfect day – though in California, you figured, most days were perfect. The sun was high in the sky, its warmth filling the salt-laced air while the waves of the ocean glittered beneath like a carpet of gemstones.

That sense of dizzy exhilaration and thrilled nerves filled you as you drew your fingertips through the calm, warm water beneath your surfboard – and stilled as you realized that maybe, it was too calm.

"The water's going...back?", you frowned, angling your head so you could look at Billy, who was draped on his own surfboard beside yours like an ancient Greek god plucked right out of a painting, his golden curls soaked with seawater and the tan skin glittering with water droplets beneath the midday sun, muscles perfectly honed and on display with only his swim trunks –

"Yeah. The next one's gonna be huge," his bemused assessment tore your thoughts out of the gutter, and your eyes widened in quiet horror.

Billy's grin softened when he saw your face fall, and he smirked, "You can prove you actually listened to what I explained, sunshine. 'Cause I'm pretty damn sure you've been too busy ogling me while I showed you how to stand up on the board."

You returned his grin. "I was ogling you while listening."

"Good. Gonna tame that rip curl then." With a glance at the waves behind you, his grin widened mischievously and before you could voice the sudden fear at the word rip curl, he asked, "Ready?"

"No", you replied weakly, "Though I got the best lifeguard with me."

"Three," Billy started to count, that wide smirk still in place although for once, it wasn’t the reason for your legs growing weak, "Two.”

Good gods. You could hear the incoming wave, roaring like some monstrous –

“GO!"

Before you could protest that he hadn't counted to one, the wave was there, like a giant beast carrying you on its back as a squeal escaped you and Billy gave your board a little push as the ocean's force took hold, sweeping you towards the beach with much more speed than you could have anticipated.

With a second squeal tearing from you, Billy’s voice came back to your mind to shout instructions, and despite the slight panic raising in your chest, you let his voice guide you through the succession of lightning-quick movements.

And then you did it.

You stood.

On the surfboard.

It felt like flying. Like the sea gulls riding the wind, you were carried by the wave – not taming it, for the ocean, just like Billy, was a force too wild to ever be contained – but like a team.

Happiness surged though you as you stretched your arms wide like a pair of wings, the beach drawing closer and closer.

"I'M DOING IT!!”, you let out the happy little screech that had been lodged at the back of your throat, “I'M DOING IT! BILLY! LOOK AT -"

You were knocked from the board before you could finish your sentence.

The world tilted and water splashed when the wave tore the board further towards the shore, dragging you behind like a fish on a hook with the board's safety string firmly tied around your around your ankle, and with your voice choked by a gust of salt water forcing its way down your throat in the process, you were washed ashore with the grace of a dead manatee.

Billy's laughter rang through the warm air as wet sand stopped your sorry ride, scraping your cheeks as you met the beach face-first, coughing and retching out the salt water you swallowed, your own laughter mingling with his as Billy’s warm hands locked around your upper arms to pull you out of the shallow water.

"That didn't look half as cool as I thought, right?", you giggled while he gently swept the soaked strands of hair from your forehead, his eyes sparkling as blue and bright as the waves beneath the California sun, long dark lashes wet with the droplets of water clinging to them, the pale pattern of freckles splattered over his cheeks visible in the sunlight as he leaned closer to you, hovering above you as the warm water of the Pacific gently lapped around your skin.

"The split second of surfing or the dramatic fall afterwards?", he chuckled, and you playfully shoved his shoulder.

"I was standing up for the first time!”, you chided, “Don't be so strict!"

“You don’t love me for my politeness, sunshine.”

“I don’t love you for your rudeness, either,” you retorted with a smirk of your own.

There wasn’t an inch left of you that wasn’t covered with sticky wet sand, and Billy’s gaze softened as he slowly pulled a tangle of seaweed out of your hair, having a hard time suppressing his laughter before he crooned, "You're the most beautiful piece of flotsam to be washed upon shore. Now how about we take a break and grab some milkshakes?”

Before you could nod your agreement, his arms were around you, pulling you back on your feet, and your heart did a little backflip.

“A break sounds great,” you said, already caught by the flicker of longing in Billy’s gaze as it briefly flitted to your lips, and your eyes fluttered closed when he brushed a few grains of sand from your cheek with a gentleness you’d never have thought him to be capable of a few months ago.

How the tables had turned since then.

When Billy’s lips brushed against yours with a kiss so slow and sweet that it stole your breath all over again, you felt his smile; felt it in the way he combed his hand through the tangled, strands of your soaked hair, the soft little sigh escaping him as if he were releasing a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

He tasted of salt and sunshine and...happiness. He tasted of home.

♡ 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭)

♡ 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰

♡ 𝐊𝐨-𝐅𝐢

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things billy #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic

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venomous--fics · 3 years ago

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Anon asked: maybe a continuation of the peter b parker kid thing where they finally confront the mom and get the readers things back 😩💞💞

a/n: ask and thou shall receive! this spent so long in the drafts bc i felt so insecure about it tbh, so any feedback is appreciated! I love seeing messages about what you guys think! really keeps me motivated! also, requests are open

Warnings: mentions of past abuse

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, constantly looking at the clock. It was almost 5pm, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. Yes, he keeps track of everyone's schedules, yes he knows the exact second you should be walking through the door. He's already texted you, but maybe you had detention. Nah, you were a good student, he highly doubted you'd have to stay after school.

His phone finally rang, and he was way too quick answering it.

"You okay?"

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he was already out the door.

You sighed, knowing he was probably going to give you an earful later.

"Well, it's a really long story, right.. But my mom showed up after school-"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I think. Anyways, we got into it on the way home, which is no- Not normal." you adjusted how you were sitting, "And since she was dragging me back to the house, I figured I'd just get my crap and come home, right? Makes sense, saves us the tri-"

"She took you without permission?"

"Technically she is my m-...Parent. I guess, y'know, legally she can do whatever- But..Okay." you began to feel bubbles of anxiety and pain and even resentment form deep in your core, "She locked me out." You rubbed your neck.

"Are you," he paused, looking around at all the faces passing by him, "Still there?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Don't apologize, you didn't do anything."

"I keep causing problems for everyone."

"Not for me. Or Mj."

It was quiet on your end.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Nah, nah." He said, having a sudden wave of anger rush over him, "Let me take care of this."

And true to his word, Peter was there in ten minutes. You hopped up from your spot on the porch as he made his way up to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

The door swung open, and your mother seemed awfully surprised and confused to see some random man just standing there. Peter held no emotion has he looked her dead in the eye, "Can we come in."

She opened the door wider so that way you two could step in.

"Go get your stuff." is all Peter said to you.

Wasting no time, and not wanting to be in the middle of a potential argument between the two, you skedaddled to your room. It almost felt like too much to be in there. It looked so empty and barren compared to your room at Peter and Mjs place. Seems really dull. Lifeless, almost. Dust covered every surface, which meant that nobody had ever even bothered to see if you were even still in there.

You heard their voices from the living room, but they seemed so distant, seeing as all you could focus on was every shitty thing that woman put you through.

You remember the day that you got bit. It made you deathly ill, and you just thought you were dying from some sort of allergic reaction to the spider bite. You tried to get her to take you to any doctor or anywhere that could help because all you could seem to see were stars.

Everything then was so loud. Everything was so bright. It was all too much, and you were certain that the reaper was waiting for you. What did she say?

"Suck it up and stop pretending. Everything has to be so dramatic with you."

Or that time you forgot a single item on the shopping list. You got this whole speech about how stupid you had to have been. To forget one item. It was the world's most useless item.

Everything else seemed to play all over again, all at once. Like a waterfall. It should've made you sad. It should've made you cry, or scream.

You recounted all the times you wanted to fight back, or just run away. Leave everything behind and just run until your legs gave out. But you never did. You always found some reason to linger.

The conversation was growing louder where Peter was.

"You aren't going to do this to them ever again. Sign the papers."

You nearly dropped your last belonging on the floor as you scrambled to your door. Papers? He wasn't serious. Well, obviously he was. He just said it.

"Fine. It's not like the-"

"Zip it. Sign the papers."

"Who are you anyways? The law? If so, whatever they've told you is a b-"

"Listen, lady. I didn't ask for any attitude. I told you to sign the papers." he seemed to huff in annoyance, "That doesn't require talking."

"I'm a good mother."

"And I'm the king of France."

"Really. I gave them a good home. I have fed them and kept them warm-"

"Really? You think you did all that? Or are you convincing yourself that you did all that?"

"I am-"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Ye-"

"I've never said this about anyone, ever. I don't like speaking to or about anyone like this.. Ever, but, you? I think you're a piece of shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, look. You finished signing the papers. I'll take those. Thank you."

Realizing that it was your time to go, you stuffed your blanket into your duffel bag and rushed out the door and down the hall. Peter looked at you, expecting to see at least three bags. But he only saw the one.

"Where's the rest of your stuff."

"Uhm," you shuffled around, pretending as thought you dropped some, "This...This is all my stuff."

"That can't be ri-" He laughed a little, and noting the expression on his face, you saw that he was NOT happy. "That? That single duffle bag is all you have? That's it?"

"Yes..." you took a step back, "This is all.."

"I can't believe it." he said, "You're joking! One bag worth of stuff?"

He turned his attention back to your mother, who, for the first time in your life, actually looked like she got caught red handed, "You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"But they're so u-"

"No! No, you don't get to talk anymore. You've done enough."

You awkwardly shuffled behind him, in the event that you two had to make a mad dash out the door. That and you needed to not be seen as you tried to hide your almost evil grin.

"The hell is wrong with you? You have this amazing kid, and THAT'S all you've ever gotten for them? And you sit there and call yourself a mother? Absolutely, without a doubt, bullshit. I'd be ashamed of myself to call myself a father if that's all I've provided for my kid. Don't even get me started on you as a person, we made that clear."

It almost felt cursed to hear him swear, seeing as he made it a point to tell you to not swear. Every time you did, you have to give a quarter to the swear jar. Mj was always on your side, though. She'd say a swear that was much worse and have to pay a dollar. Each word had a value.

"Maybe we should just go." you suggested, tugging on the sleeve of his arm, "She's not worth it anymore."

"She was never worth it, it seems."

You finally made eye contact with her, and the look in her eye. It's like she understood, but was choosing to not do anything about the situation. She could look sorry all she wanted, but you knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. You know that right."

"That means nothing to me."

"I can change."

"If you can change now, that means you could've changed then. You just chose not to."

"But I'm your mother, you should realize how I feel. You should want-"

"You're not my mom. You stopped being my mom the first time you-" You turned towards the door and started walking towards it, "Whatever. You mean nothing to me."

You practically kicked open teh door just to leave, and Peter was right behind you, shouting about how he'd make sure to egg her house everyday, just to piss her off.

"Do you really think I'm amazing?" you asked, the walk home feeling rather quiet.

"I think you're more than that. Just can't put it into words."

"Did you really mean it...That we could egg her house?"

"You want to? There's a store right on the way home."

"How about tomorrow."

"I'll have to clear up my busy schedule. See if I can work in a drive by egging. Well, swing by egging."

"You promise?"

"You kidding? I haven't egged anyone's house since college."

You had so much more you wanted to get off you chest, but you opted to just talk about it at home, with everyone present. You wanted to talk about how you felt about everything, and the papers. Whatever those were. But you were, for the moment, busy laughing about Peter's story about how he used to Egg this one reporters house. Someone named Jonah.

You wonder if Jonah ever put two and two together.

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #into the spider verse x reader #into the spiderverse imagine #peter b parker imagine #peter b parker x reader #peter parker imagine #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader

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