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feralforriddle · 10 months ago

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nobody makes me feel things.

summary: tom riddle x y/n, first person. tom starts to get really confused as to why he was feeling so many things for the sweet ravenclaw girl. but he seems to soften up pretty quick, leaving you just as confused.

a/n: my first ever fic! please give feedback if you enjoyed in the comments. this is probably super messy but i just kept typing lol. i hope u enjoy :3.

ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･+*:ꔫ:*﹤˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

'what do you want.' he says, staring at me with his dark, cold glare. i gulp, immediately regretting my decision. picking at the skin around my nails, i pluck up the courage to ask him.

'um, i was just wondering if you were still tutoring people?' i ask, looking up at him anxiously. he stares at me for a second, seemingly very confused. or is he happy? angry? honestly, it's really hard to read him. impossible even.

'yes. i do, why?' he steps closer to me, looking down and crossing his arms. it's almost like he is trying to kill me. doesn't he realize how handsome he is?

'i am struggling at the moment in potions, a-and i know you're really smart in that subject. i was wondering if you'd help me?' i ask, trying to sound confident but failing miserably. why is it so hard to talk to him? obviously everybody knows what tom is like. he has almost zero friends, and he doesn't seem to care about making any.

but i have always been intrigued by him. always watching and admiring from afar. always found him exceptionally handsome. never found any courage to talk to him, though. so now is my chance to get his attention.

do i really need help in potions? not really. it's definitely not my most successful class, but i could probably still pass without his help. but the idea of him teaching me, maybe he could show me how to make potions too, standing behind me and guiding my hands-

okay, no. i am getting truly distracted now.

i have just always been so infatuated with him. my friends call me crazy for trying this, and that they have never seen him interested in any girl before him. i have seen him glance at me before, staring a little longer than just an accidental glance. so part of me is really hopeful he sees me the same way. and i don't have enough confidence to just ask him out, which is why i thought a study session would be good.

'i can help you. what is it you need help with the most?' he says, surprisingly softer. a slight glint in his eye. it did not last long though, he returned to his usual glare.

'mainly brewing the potions, getting things perfect. sure, i get it right but, you always seem to make them perfectly' i say, complimenting him lightly to see his reaction.

i did not get much of one.

'yes, mine are perfect. i can help you. i will ask professor slughorn if we can use the potions room after class hours, he won't mind i'm sure.' he says, nodding down at me once.

i smile brightly up at him, 'thankyou tom! i'll meet you there today around 6pm then?' i ask, beyond excited to get to spend more time with him.

he nods, squinting his eyes lightly at me before turning around and leaving. he certainly is a unique boy. i turn to return to the great hall and finish my lunch.

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i was itching for 6pm to come faster, wiggling in my seat in my final class of the day. i need to make sure i look pretty, too. i am incredibly nervous to see him, and be alone with him too. my cheeks go red at the thought. i am probably thinking of this way differently to tom, he probably isn't even excited. but i don't care, i just wanted him to see me, to notice me.

as soon as class ended, i sprinted back to my dorm to get changed and freshen up. putting on a clean white shirt, my slightly tighter one for no particular reason at all. and my ravenclaw skirt, pilling up a little further up my thighs than normal. i do light makeup, and ruffle my hair and im ready. this is very unlike me. i never dress like this, and to be honest i feel embarrassed but i want to catch his attention somehow.

it's 5:50pm, so i grab my study books and quill, and head quickly to the classroom. he arrives just seconds after me.

'hi tom' i smile.

he stares at me for a second, glancing down at my outfit. 'what are you wearing?' he says, glaring at me for a second.

'just my uniform..' i frown, looking down at myself.

tom's head erratically turns around, checking nobody is around. 'you walked down here like this?'

'..yes?'

'get inside, quickly.' he opens the door for me, and i rush inside, very very confused as to what is happening.

he looks at me again as i sit at the desk where he clearly prepared things. 'why did i have to rush in here?'

'because i don't want anybody else to see you like this.' he grunt, putting his books down before sitting beside me.

'why's that?' i say, a little hope bubbling inside of me that maybe it's because he only wants to see me like this.

'you ask too many questions. lets just focus on this' he says, avoiding eye contact with me.

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the whole study session i was incredibly nervous. i couldn't write properly because my hands were shaking so much. my cheeks constantly red through the whole thing. i sigh as he packs things away, 'thankyou for helping me, tom'.

'it's okay' he says nothing else before heading to the door.

i don't know why, but he seems even less interested after that. he is barely talking to me, his body language is just telling me he is uncomfortable. maybe he figured out my little plan and it put off by it? maybe he really just doesn't like me back. maybe i'm just not confident enough for him?

perhaps i should stop trying so hard.

i grab my own things and walk to the door with him. 'i-i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable tom, i'm sure you figured out what i was doing' i say with as much courage as possible. i feel ridiculously embarrassed. he looks at me and says nothing.

his face indicates nothing. nothing whatsoever. i take a deep breath. looking at him with glossy eyes, rushing out of the potions classroom and back to my dorm.

i jump on my bed, pushing my face in the pillow and letting a few tears go. i thought it would work, i really did think he might like me back. i was stupid to think so. he doesn't really feel anything for anyone. and i made such a fool of myself, trying to flirt or complimenting me, wearing this revealing uniform. oh god i want the ground to swallow me hole.

i just curl up into a ball and fall asleep soon after.

tom on the other hand, is left feeling very very confused. he doesn't know why he feels this way, why did he get a pang in his chest when he saw my glossy eyes? why couldn't he seem to breathe properly around me? he has never felt this way for anybody and he doesn't know what to do.

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the next day i head to breakfast, nervous about seeing tom there. he always sits at the end of the table alone, so it's inevitable he will see me as i walk into the great hall. i try and get there as early as possible, hoping i arrive before he does.

but no, he is sat there, and his head shoots up the second he sees me walk into the hall. my cheeks flush insanely red, my hands beginning to sweat a little as i feel his burning gaze on me.

i rush to the table, sitting by myself at the end too, not really wanting to tell my friends what happened.

tom sees me sitting alone and furrows his eyebrows. before even thinking, he stands up and walks over to sit directly opposite me on the ravenclaw table. i look up at him and panic.

'why are you sitting alone?' he says, staring at me.

'um, i just didn't feel like talking to my friends this morning' i gulp, frantically trying to avoid his gaze. he glances down to see them all staring with their jaws dropped.

'pathetic.' he mutters.

'you think im pathetic?' i say, eyes softening at him.

'no, quite the opposite' he mumbles, nodding his head down the table. 'that is pathetic'. my cheeks flush a little as i giggle at him. looking back up at him, i give him a soft smile.

'why did you come over here, tom?'

'because i don't want to see you sitting by yourself.' he says, taking a bite of his breakfast. 'come on, eat something. we have class soon'.

i do as he says, of course, but i am also extremely confused as to what is happening. from how he was acting yesterday, to this? i am very confused. but secretly i am really enjoying this.

'so, how about another study tonight?' he says bluntly. my eyes nearly shoot out of their sockets and my heart nearly came out of my chest.

'o-oh, um sure' i smile, covering my nerves.

'and you can wear that little outfit again. just don't let anybody see you on the way'. i nod quickly at him. and we quietly had breakfast together. he walked me to my class, which left my hiding my smile under my hand in class.

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i take a deep breath as i wait for tom to arrive outside of the class. i tap my feet on the floor in anticipation. my god, am i nervous.

'get inside, quick' he says, opening the door for me again.

i smile a little, rushing inside and sitting back in my normal seat. but there is nothing here set up to study like last time. he raised an eyebrow at me and slowly walks over as i look at him confused.

'what are we doing today tom if there isn't anything here?' i ask, turning to him as he sits beside me.

'oh i think we both know studying isn't the reason we are doing this' he says, turning to me slightly.

i almost choke on the air.

'i don't know what you've done to me, but i can't stop thinking about you' he sighs. 'it's awful, really. i haven't ever felt this way before, i was up most of the night figuring my feelings out. now i worry i am stuck, wanting you with me at all times when i can't'.

'yes, you can'. i jump to answer. 'just give me the word and i'm yours'.

'mine?' he hums, as i stand up and stand in between his legs, looking up at him.

'yours'.

he puts his hand on the side of my face. 'i hope you know what you've gotten yourself into. I'm not easy, darling'. he sighs.

'i'll get used to it' i smile.

'if i see any other man in the same proximity as you, i can't promise i won't hex them'.

'id like that' i hum.

'come here' he murmurs, pulling me closer into him, connecting his lips onto mine. and i melt. i've been wanting this for so long. his tongue swipes against my bottom lip, deepening the kiss as my hands wrap around his neck, pulling him to stand with me and wrap his arms around my waist.

'lets go back to my dorm. i have my own dorm because i hate everyone.' he mumbles against my lips. i giggle at him, pulling back and nodding. 'lets go' i agree.

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the next morning, i walk into the great hall for breakfast. tom's eyes find mine as he gives me a very small, but cheeky grin.

he stands up and walks over to my table before i can sit down.

he grabs my chin, pressing a kiss against my lips softly right in front of all my friends. as if to prove a point.

'see you in class, baby'.

i smile at him as he walks back to the slytherin table. i look down at my friends,

'what on earth?!' they shout.

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a/n; and we're done! please give me feedback if you liked this, or not. my first ever fic ahh! <3 love u angels.

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #hogwarts #harry potter #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #voldemort

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scudslut · 8 months ago

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em's masterlist/guidelines

fluff - 𐙚 || smut - ♱ || angst - ✾

➳ Daryl Dixon

one-shots: sins and honey flavored sweetness 𐙚 ♱ ✾ heartsease 𐙚 ♱ a summer wasting 𐙚 midnight refreshments 𐙚 a new years surprise 𐙚 ♱ lazy mornings 𐙚 stay with me 𐙚 ✾ too sweet ♱

drabbles: taste me ♱ head w/ daryl 𐙚♱ daryl’s uncut ♱ s4 daryl 𐙚 ♱ ✾

cannock chase 𐙚

➳ Scud Frohmeyer

one-shots: take me however you want too ♱

drabbles: cockwarming w/ scud ♱ scuds a slut (canonically) ♱

➳ My Edits

normy's bday dhl burn, burn, burn new bottega

please send requests!

About Me!

em | 20 | gemini

hi everyone! this is so long awaited (i’m legit so lazy) but finally i have a masterlist/about me!

╰─▸ my names emma, i’m obviously in love w daryl dixon/norman reedus. i love to write and make edits — u guys should totally follow my tiktok account @mrsemmadixon or otherwise known as scudslut;)

i met norman jdkskajajs at the nyc comic con 2023, he signed the back of my phone case, i’ll actually die on a fucking hill. yes, he’s just as godly in person.

in my day to day life i work with animals 10 hours a day, they are my main passion aside from writing and whatnot, so if i post a photo of a really cute dog i met, that’s why lmao.

i have 2 cats right now, my baby lily i got last year and sophie who i’ve had since i was a kid. typically we rescue all our animals!

i deal with extreme anxiety and depression from a major accident that happened in my life a few years ago (so if i don’t respond or have trouble posting sometimes… that’s why and i really hope everyone understands.)

I love, love, love music. I play the piano and guitar, probably not very good but who cares. some of my all time favorite artists are.. and here we go on a rampage... deftones, cigsaftersex, wheezer, nirvana, mac, frank, lana, djo, catpower, the vines, dinosaur jr, 21 sav, labi siffre, the kills, tom odell, basement, strokes, velvet underground, kendrick, norah jones, red hot chilies, the smiths, billy idol, the cure, no vacation, mazzy star, fleetwood, empire of the sun, pinegrove, otis redding, neil young, etta james, summer walker, motley crue, guns'n'roses, foo fighters, biggie, shady, drake, nelly, jay-z, $uici$ide boys, gucci, trippie... and so much more, my music taste is actually bipolar.

on that note, i actually have a playlist for daryl + norman (music he reposts/i think he’d like) lmk if u want me so share them.

i’m canadian

my parents are both extreme alcoholics, so i suffer from a multitude of childhood traumas as well as current ones. we love it here!:) but id like to think i relate to daryl in some sense, if its the only comfort i get from it.

i could live off of pasta, watermelon and coffee alone

i spend my time either at my job, reading, writing, editing or spending time with some close friends.

and that’s pretty much me!:)

please feel free to ask me questions or request fics, i will absolutely love to do them! (as long as they follow guidelines) if your unsure, just message me to clarify! i won’t ever leave u on read, i promise!

My Guidelines:

absolutely no rape/SA/even slight connotations of it.

no incest.

hitting, slapping, or any extreme violence during play, is a no. (daryl loves to smack your ass when he hits it from the back… that’s okay… but he would. not. hit you.)

age play - i will dabble in this but nothing major where reader is barely an adult. the most i’ll do is early/mid 20’s and daryl is his canon age.

oh yes, and i will write for all norman reedus characters! if you want someone else, messsage/ask me!

gifs/dividers from @cafekitsune

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joeyalohadream · 3 months ago

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I wish you would write a fic where Bucky gets a call that Gale has been in an accident or something, goes to pick him up, Gale isn’t even badly hurt but Bucky still loses his mind and Gale ends up comforting him lol (if u can’t tell im a sucker for hurt gale and hurt/comfort in general lol) .

Also i saw u posting that u feel like u ramble/write too much and i just wanted to say, im so obsessed with ur writing that i eat up anything u write like if u were to post ur shopping list i would probably read it and love it so PLS ALWAYS WRITE TOO MUCH. Thank u for sharing w us ❤️‍🩹

Hi! So sorry this took me so long!

aaaand thank you so much, anon! Your kind words made me feel all warm and fuzzy! (p.s. my shopping list is cat food and wine LOL). I'm glad you enjoy my rambling!

Here is the fic I wrote for your request! 4,047 words of a bit of angst and fluff and some sweetness. Hope you like it!

If you'd rather read a word count like that on AO3, find it here!

It’s six o’clock and John is hungry.

His day had been a good one, but a long one. Flying right seat to several cadets on their second week of actual flying. Witnessing the joy, the reverence the young pilots had experienced behind the yolk had brought back memories of a time when flying had been his favorite thing in the world. Back before it was tainted by terror and death and dread.

It eases something within him to know that he can still find the beauty in it after years of growing to hate something that had once been the thing that made him feel alive.

But it’s Friday night now and his feet will be firmly on the ground for the weekend. A weekend that was supposed to start with a homecooked meal, lovingly prepared by Gale.

With Gale in school and John working full-time, they spend most of their week like passing ships. Evenings are typically a rushed affair of leftovers or a meet-up at the diner half way between the base and Gale’s campus.

Friday nights are John’s favorite though. Gale is out of class by three and home by four. He spends the two hour stretch of time between then and John’s arrival at six cooking the most delicious meals John has ever tasted. A skill he’d developed while trying, and mostly succeeding, in putting some meat back on to their bones after they came home.

But it’s six o’clock and there is no dinner waiting for him. The lights are all off and Gale’s truck is not in the driveway.

He walks through the house, turning on a lamp here, flipping a switch there and tries to temper the feeling of dread that starts prickling under his skin.

After everything they’d been through, it had taken them both a significant amount of time to quell the unrealistic expectation that something was wrong whenever they weren’t within sight of each other.

Neither of them had fully managed to overcome it. Gale calls his office at least twice a week from the payphone at school between classes just to say hello.

John pours himself a glass of water and takes a sip, leaning against the freshly painted cabinets. The soft green hue offers a peaceful warmth in the small kitchen. It had been their project last weekend.

Gale sometimes stays late after his lecture to help some of the younger students that struggle with the concepts. His genius.

But he doesn’t do that on Fridays because Friday nights are their nights.

So why isn’t he here?

He pushes off the counter and takes two steps to the icebox. Opening it reveals the steaks that Gale had prepped for tonight. He contemplates getting them out and trying his hand at making the meal but shuts the door and the thought down immediately.

Despite spending his time practically draped over Gale’s back, chin hooked over his shoulder on the Friday evenings he is home in time to watch him cook, John hadn’t managed to pick up the skill.

Instead of studying the technique, he studies Gale’s confident movements as he chops and tenderizes and slices and measures and stirs. Gale’s hands create nourishment for them while his own hands typically trace the soft skin a Gale’s still too flat belly, the delicate curve of his trim waist, sometimes drifting to skim his pert rear if Gale lets him get away with it.

The thoughts bring a smile to his face. But looking at the clock on the wall that tells him Gale is now over two hours late wipes it away.

He walks back to the front door and out onto the porch to stare down the long driveway that leads up to their home, willing headlights to turn onto it. But time ticks by and the sun is dipping lower on the horizon and Gale still isn’t where he’s supposed to be.

John knows the route Gale takes to and from campus. He’d driven him several times back before they’d acquired a second truck. He fingers the keys in his pocket, wondering how much Gale would rib him for driving the hour to his school when it turns out he just lost track of time.

But it’s Friday night and Gale doesn’t lose track of time, especially when time is leading to them spending their evening wrapped around each other.

John flinches as the silence of the evening is interrupted by the sound of their telephone ringing in the kitchen. Relief floods him a moment later and he slams the screen door open and takes long strides back into the house.

“You better have a good explanation for why I’m not eating a big, juicy steak right now,” he says into the receiver, a smile already pulling at his lips as he waits for Gale’s exasperated tone to filter back through to him.

But there’s silence for a beat and then a throat is cleared and then John’s heart starts to pound a little faster.

“Um, hello,” a voice that is distinctly not Gale comes through the connection. “Is this John Egan?”

“Yes,” John replies, switching the phone to his other hand, hoping it’s less wet. It’s not. “Who’s this?”

“I’m a nurse at Lakeside Memorial,” she supplies and John’s knees go weak. “I’m calling because your friend, Gale Cleven, was brought in about an hour ago. He was in an accident.”

Words won’t form, but some unintelligible noise escapes his mouth in response. For a moment, he’s not in their softly lit, freshly painted kitchen. He’s in a phone booth in London and it’s the worst moment of his life.

He went down swingin’.

The cord stretches its length as his legs decide to stop functioning and he slides down to the floor, back pressed against the green cabinet doors.

“Mr. Egan, are you still there?”

Is he? Or is he back on the bombed-out streets of a city he never should have gone to?

“I’m here,” he grinds out as he closes his eyes and reminds himself to breathe. Pictures Gale in front of him, one hand planted on his chest, the other cradling his cheek. Breathe, darlin’, he’d say. He’s said it to him countless times since they’d reunited back in the Stalag. He’s said it to him in their bedroom, in their yard, in this kitchen. He needs to know if he’ll ever hear him say it again. “Is he okay?”

“I can’t give out medical information over the phone,” the nurse tells him, and John tightens his grip on the phone, anger rising, but she continues before he can spew it over the line. “But Mr. Cleven asked me to call you himself.”

He takes a deep breath, the slightest bit of relief mixing with the dread coiling itself around his heart.

“You understand?” The nurse’s voice is back in his ear. She couldn’t tell him how he was, but she told him enough to let him know that he was well enough to be talking and that’s enough for him to know that Gale is still here. He nods and then remembers he’s alone.

“Yes, I understand,” he says. “Lakeside Memorial?”

“That’s correct,” she confirms, sounding patient. John imagines she makes these calls every day. He wouldn’t like that job. “Come in through the emergency room doors and we’ll get you sorted.”

“Thank you,” his voice wobbles a bit too much, but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed. There’s a click over the line that tells him she’s hung up, so he lets the phone drop and then presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and presses hard. He chokes on his next inhale and feels his shoulders shake.

But Gale needs him. He’s hurt and he wants John to come to him and he needs to get up off this floor, right now.

The room sways a bit as he gets to his feet, head feeling fuzzy. He thinks maybe he hasn’t been breathing correctly since the nurse’s voice came through the phone instead of Gale’s.

Breathe, darlin’.

In through his nose, out through his mouth. It helps a bit.

----

Physically, He slides into the driver’s seat of their new pick-up truck and starts the engine. That phone call left him with only questions and his hands sweat as they grip the leather of the steering wheel. His foot feels numb as he presses it to the gas in order to go find answers.

Mentally, he’s sliding into his seat on a train car that’s leading him to a destination with no answers to be had, no sweet smile or soft laughter or dazzling blue eyes waiting for him. No joy, only pain. No Gale. Because he went down swingin’.

The crushing sadness that had invaded every nerve in his system after he’d walked out of that phone booth all those years ago suddenly feels like it never went away. Like he could wake up and realize that this year of domestic bliss hadn’t happened. Like Gale wasn’t his and Gale wasn’t here, and Gale wasn’t anywhere. He shakes his head, as if he could physically knock the horrible images out of his mind.

Headlights shine through his windshield, streetlamps coming on along the road as the sun continues setting. He knows the way to the emergency room. It’s on the way to Gale’s campus. His body operates on auto pilot to get him there, his head is in the clouds or in the dirt or somewhere else entirely.

He needs Gale to be okay. It’s hard to breathe again.

Gale would be so angry at him for driving like this. Gale will be so angry with him for driving like this.

----

It takes him a moment to realize why every head in the room turns to him when he walks through the door. His hands shake as he straightens out his uniform jacket and runs fingers through his curls, realizing he forgot his cap. Not very officer-like to be out in public without the proper uniform.

To his surprise, it takes barely a word from him for a young orderly to lead him to Gale. No argument about how he’s not family, even though he is Gale’s only family. No odd looks about why it isn’t Gale’s wife or mother or father coming to see him.

He thinks his feet might be numb and he finds that odd, but they still put in the work and follow the man in scrubs to a row of curtained off exam rooms. Further relief crackles in his chest when he realizes they’re headed for one specific curtain. Gale isn’t in surgery or in a private room. He’s in the same kind of place John had sat a few months ago when he’d needed stiches on his thumb.

Maybe he’s okay.

Please be okay.

His heart rate increases as the orderly gestures him forward and then turns to leave. He takes a steadying breath, ducks around the fabric and is greeted with two sky-blue eyes and a sheepish looking smile directed his way.

“You’re here,” Gale breathes out, the sound of utter relief in his voice. John stares at him. He thinks the numbness in his feet might be creeping up into the rest of his body. “John?”

The small smile Gale had thrown him upon his arrival is wiped away as concern twists his features and John wants to laugh but all he can do is stare for some reason. He’s staring intently at the younger man, watches as his brows furrows and he shifts on the plastic wrapped table he’s sitting on.

“John,” Gale tries again, a wince pulling his features down for a moment. “You with me?”

The curtain draws open. The shrill sound of the metal rings grating against the pole makes John cringe and snap his gaze away from Gale to take in the sight of a white-haired nurse with a friendly smile, kind eyes and a clipboard in her hand.

“Is this the friend you mentioned?” She addresses Gale, walking over to where he’s sitting awkwardly hunched on the exam table. “The one you served with?”

John swallows and straightens his shoulders as the nurse’s eyes find his. He hears Gale clear his throat and mutter a quiet, “yes, ma’am.”

His hands are sweating where they hang uselessly at his sides. He can breathe easier than he managed to on the drive over, now that he has Gale in his sights, but his heartbeat is too fast, rabbiting away in chest like its being chased by a predator. His eyes flit from the nurse to Gale and back again and he knows he should speak, but his tongue feels heavy, and his mouth is dry, and he feels like maybe he should be the one sitting on the exam table.

“Nurse Amy,” Gale comes to his rescue. “This is John Egan. John, this is Nurse Amy. She’s the one that called you after making sure I was alright.”

Gale is looking at him with understanding and patience, concern and a little bit of what looks like desperation. His beautiful face is all bruised up, small cuts around his temple. Just like Regensburg. There’s blood on the collar of his shirt, not a lot, but it’s Gale’s and it’s not supposed to be on the outside of him, not ever again.

John’s breath hitches and Gale leans forward, eyes softening. “Which I am, John. I’m alright.”

He hears the nurse make a tutting sound, but he can’t take his eyes off Gale again. Ever again, maybe.

“X-rays came back, Mr. Cleven,” she says, all business. “You were correct in your self-assessment. No broken bones.” John watches as Gale nods as her, but his eyes immediately drift back to John. “But you do have a slight hairline fracture in your wrist, so we’ll need to wrap it.”

“Fine,” Gale clips out, polite but impatient. “Can you just give us a few minutes? Need to talk to my friend here about the truck.”

“I’ll be back in ten to wrap that wrist up for you, try to keep it still,” she agrees and then she’s gone and they’re alone.

“I don’t care about the damn truck,” John finally finds his voice, even if it sounds rough to his own ears.

“I know that,” Gale cocks his head a bit, his own voice sounds a little off now that John’s ears aren’t ringing as badly as before. “What’d you want me to tell her? Get out so I can have a moment alone with my fella?”

John wants to laugh; he loves it when Gale teases him. But a choking sound comes out instead and he shakes his head and just breathes. Gale starts to slide off the table and it makes John stumble forward, hands outstretched.

“Wait,” he says as he reaches Gale’s knees. He looks him over again, hating the evidence of any kind of violence on a man as sweet and gentle as Gale. “Just, stay there. Don’t move.”

“John, I’m fine,” Gale reaches out with his left hand, his right laying motionless across his lap. John’s eyes trace over the abraded skin and the already swollen looking joint. “Can you say the same?”

John pulls a face but can’t contradict the man sitting in front of him. He needs to pull himself together. Gale is here, he’s not blown to bits over Germany or lost behind enemy lines. But any kind of unknown right now is too much for John. He places a hand over one of Gale’s knees, lets his thumb start a back-and-forth motion, lets the repetitiveness of it soothe them both.

“You’re in the emergency room,” John points out. “People that are ‘fine’ don’t really get brought here.”

“Wasn’t my choice,” Gale grumbles, looking petulant and John kind of wants to shake him a bit. “You looked worse than me when you walked in here. Are you okay?”

“Tell me about all this?” He motions to Gale’s face, frowning and ignoring how Gale looks annoyed at him for brushing past his own question.

“Just got a bit banged up,” Gale tells him. John squeezes his knee and eases a bit at the eye roll it gets him. “Hit my head on the window when I hit the tree.”

“You hit a tree?”

“So that I wouldn’t hit the dog that ran out in front of me.”

And John wants to reprimand him. Wants to remind him that it’s a golden rule on the road not to swerve and cause more damage just to avoid an animal. But he also knows that the man in front of him would rather suffer these consequences than to ever take the life of someone’s pet. It’s one of the thousands of things he loves about him.

“Of course,” he returns, finally allowing a small smile to graze his own lips. It wobbles a bit at the look of relief it brings out in Gale’s eyes. “You’re really okay?”

“Mild concussion and a bruised jaw and you heard about the wrist. Everything else is superficial, I promise.” Gale tries to soothe, but all John can think of is how much worse this could have been. He closes his eyes, his breathing picks up a bit and then there’s a warm pressure on his chest and a matching one on his cheek.

“Breathe, darlin’,” Gale’s low voice whispers out between them and John shudders, letting his weight fall forward a bit against the strength behind Gale’s hand. “Just breathe. I’m right here. I’m okay.”

It takes him a few moments to grasp it, to accept it. Gale is hurt. But he’s okay. He’s going to be okay. The dueling sensations of relief and fear war inside of him to brew a nasty storm that leaves him feeling exhausted.

“This one really freaked you out, huh?” A thumb strokes over his cheek and John leans into the sensation. “I’m sorry, John.”

“God, baby,” John lets out on an exhale, opening his eyes and finding those beautiful blues looking right back at him. “I think I’m gonna have to homeschool you from now on. Can’t let you outta my sight.”

Soft huffs of laughter ripple from Gale and he looks up at him, amusement dancing across his face. “You an expert in advanced physics, Major?”

“You might just have to switch your major, Major.”

Gale grins at him and shakes his head and it feels so good to make him happy. It’s John’s favorite thing in the world.

“How about we settle for you driving me around again for a while? Just like old times,” Gale asks. “I might’ve totaled the truck.”

John nods an affirmative, ignoring the way the mention of their truck makes his pulse spike unpleasantly again. Gale removes his hand from his face, a grimace pulling at his brows as he lowers the injured limb back to lap.

“She told you to keep that still,” John chides, feeling foolish for not remembering sooner. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

Gale smiles up at him, a little innocent, a little playful.

“Whatever you want, John.”

This time the spike in his pulse is a pleasant one as he imagines all of the ways he can take of this man in the coming days.

“I’m holding you to that,” John tells him. It’s his turn now to reach out and cradle a bruised jaw, he frowns again at the bruising painted across the delicate skin and lets his thumb caress it for a moment. Gale’s eyes fall shut.

“It’s almost been ten minutes, Bucky.”

“I know, Buck.” He leans down and presses his lips to Gale’s forehead, lets them linger for a moment. Then another. Noses his blond hair and breathes him in. Overly bright blue eyes watch him step a respectable distance away to await Nurse Amy’s return.

He feels unsteady, but less like he might shake apart. Gale smiles at him from the table and he feels a little better.

----

Nearly an hour later, Gale’s wrist has been splinted and wrapped, he’s holding a bottle of painkillers that John knows he’ll have to fight to get him to take and he’s clumsily signed the abundance of paperwork with his left hand. It’s completely dark when they exit the emergency room, walking close enough together that their shoulders brush as they move.

A few steps from the truck, Gale stops in his tracks and John halts to match him, worry ratcheting back up.

“It’s Friday night,” Gale mutters, sounding a little frail. John pictures them savoring steaks and roasted vegetables and a pie after dinner and understands where his thoughts have strayed. After living in such a state of hypervigilance with stakes too high to contemplate for years of their lives, they now take the time to enjoy every slow moment of peace they can get together. Missing one feels monumental sometimes. John will just have to make this weekend one to remember.

“Hey,” John reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “There’s always tomorrow and the next day. And every day after that.”

Gale gives him a small smile, nods and lets John usher him to the truck, waiting patiently for John to open the passenger door for him. He stops again, one leg in the truck and looks back at John, brows pulled down in a frown.

“Are you sure you’re good to drive?”

John can’t help but laugh. “What? Are you going to drive us home, Mr. Concussion?”

“It’s only a mild one,” Gale grumbles. John rolls his eyes and pushes Gale up and into his seat, shutting the door on him before he can protest.

When he gets himself behind the wheel, Gale’s hand covers his before he can put the key into the ignition.

“Buck,” John starts, but one look at the concern in Gale’s eyes stops him from complaining.

“Think maybe, you started panicking when that nurse called ya.” There’s understanding in Gale’s gaze and John swallows heavily, images of a phone booth blurring with their soft green cabinets. “And I don’t know if you’ve really stopped yet. I hate the thought of you driving over here like that.”

And John understands where he’s coming from. They both have their bad days. They’re growing less frequent all the time, but they’ve been a witness to nightmares, to bouts of sadness and rage and fear and panic. He hates to see Gale like that, and John knows the feeling is mutual. The thought of it happening while one of them is alone is a reality they have to live with.

“I had to, Buck,” John points out. He doesn’t bother denying the allegation. “The only way I was going to be okay was to make sure you were okay.”

Gale ducks his head slightly for a moment, still not used to being the most important person in anybody’s world. But John’s been slowly teaching him how to accept it and he can’t help but smile when tired blue eyes lift back up to meet his.

“Slide your sweet self over here and let me feel ya while I drive,” Johns lifts his arm and rests it along the back of the bench seat. “That’ll be enough to keep my head on straight while I get us home.”

A moment of contemplation later, Gale slides over until his shoulder is tucked under John’s armpit. He rests his uninjured hand on John’s thigh, fingers gripping the fabric of his trousers and John smiles into his hair before reaching around him to start the truck.

“Take the back roads?” Gale looks up at him through his lashes and John’s heart rate finally settles into a normal rhythm now that it’s reason for beating is resting against him.

“You read my mind, sweetheart,” John presses his lips to the top of his head and turns onto the unlit road leading away from town, away from prying eyes.

Gale turns his body slightly on the seat and makes himself comfortable, settles with his head pillowed on John’s chest, arm draped over his waist. John lets his arm rest around his back, holding him close and planning on never letting him go.

#clegan #bucky x buck #clegan fic request #tender buckies #mota fanfic #mota fic #JoeyAlohaWrites

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junhuiste · 7 months ago

Text

experi-meant to be ⋆ park wonbin

pairing: wonbin x gn reader

tags/warnings: fluff, cursing, college au, laboratory environment, one mention of baking, 1600 words

a/n: i meant to publish this on valentine’s day since i had lab that day but i never finished it lol. there’s some microbio lab procedure jargon so like this is what streaking plates is if you want a visual lmfaoao. this is my first published work in like three years it feels weird haha + i might change my layout/header for fics but for now i’ll keep the same layout i've had for past fics

wonbin believes U are the uracil to his adenine—you should always be paired together.

| seunghan: dude

| seunghan: lowkey i can’t come to lab bc my car won’t fucking start so i’ll have to make it up next week :\ but taehyun and his partner would probably be willing to help you out with calculations and clean up hopefully

Wonbin pants heading up the stairs into the classroom lab, cheeks immediately pink as he’s made a spectacle amongst everyone already sitting and tuned into the TA’s pre-lab lesson. Sighing as he processes Seunghan’s text, Wonbin turns to the drawing of bacterial growth curves on the whiteboard but is soon after preoccupied with the fact that there is no Taehyun on a stool. There’s just your backside entirely in front of him.

Taehyun is one to set up all his materials before the TA even steps foot through the lab door so if he isn’t here now then that means—

“Guess you’re stuck with me for today.”

Wonbin tries to swallow but it gets stuck halfway down his throat and is about to go into a choke type cough frenzy when he surprises himself and softly clears his throat instead. His thoughts are all just stuck there—in the middle of his esophagus, begging for them to travel back up to his brain so he has enough stamina to stick it through the four hour class.

“No hate to him because Taehyunnie’s a tad faster at getting through the steps, so you know, we’re usually out thirty minutes early, but I can promise you I’m better at calculations. And I’m more precise with measurements,” you let out a small giggle before setting your backpack on the floor next to Wonbin’s.

The commotion of pipettes being thrown onto the surface, glass tubes clinking, and sneakers squeaking rushing to obtain their samples is right away drowned out in Wonbin’s ears by the sight of you perched atop the stool a mere few inches away from him. He tries to keep his chest from heaving at bay by taking his notebook out of his backpack and reviewing the method for today’s class. The solution is only short lived though, promptly taking notice of how you gather materials from the drawer while simultaneously reading through your own notebook.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Wonbin assumes his seat in the third to last row of his Virology lecture, close enough to the door that he can be among the first to leave as soon as “see you guys next time” leaves Professor Choi’s lips. He longs for the day (ideally it would be quite before the last week of classes but realistically that’s the best he has to offer for now) that he musters up just the slightest bit of courage to join you and Taehyun in the second row, where Seunghan also occasionally accompanies you two. It’s only the third week of this semester, but perhaps the sixth course of his over the past three years Wonbin’s seen you in. From Biochemistry to Rhetoric 2, he has never taken place at a desk next to yours.

Wonbin’s always aching to know how you’d answer everything he could ever ask you, be it the attendance quiz question or your weekend plans—what time you usually roll out of bed, whether or not you stroll to the local farmer’s market near campus, if you’re spending Saturday with a special someone. He needs to hear you laugh at Taehyun’s cynicism about college. He needs to hear it up close, not having to strain his ear when he’s fifteen rows behind when you crack up at your friend during the five minute break Professor Choi gives the class.

But Wonbin will take what he can get for now, and if that’s helping you fulfill your wish of completing the lab procedure as quickly as possible, he’ll do it.

“I can do the calculations for us,” you begin, “would you mind getting our mutant strains at the front of the class and streak the Petri dishes?”

Wonbin nods almost too enthusiastically and curses at himself for seeming embarrassingly desperate in front of you. Sure, he’d like to muster up the courage to ask you out, but today he’ll try to take it one step at a time.

When Wonbin returns with new plates to grow your bacteria on and two tubes filled with your bacterial strains, you scoot your chair closer to his to later show the finished calculations. He catches a whiff of your light perfume and almost falls out of his own chair.

As he’s setting up the Bunsen burner for sterilization, you chuckle, “you know the real reason Taehyun’s not here today is because he left town last night to get a head start on the extravagant romantic weekend he has planned with Gaeul.”

“If there’s one way to use our one free unexcused absence, that’ll do it,” Wonbin replies.

“Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day, Wonbin? I mean if you did I just hope you wouldn’t leave me early like Taehyun did,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before flitting back to your notebook.

Wonbin’s grip on the matchstick to light the burner loosens. He just barely catches himself before the match could fall from his hand onto the lab bench. What he needed to get a grip on was his fucking sanity—he almost set the classroom on fire because his heart instead is aflame for yours.

Taking a breath, Wonbin exhales when the flame turns to blue, finally lighting the Bunsen burner.

“Nope, no plans,” he briefly turns to you. There’s a beat and he considers that asking you back would seem too forward, but he does it anyway.

Upon seeing your grin before you open your mouth, he turns his attention right back to the tubes and plates in front of him.

It’s so over.

For a second Wonbin’s relieved, because he thinks he can actually get through the next two hours without overthinking his micro movements in front of you. Now that it’s over for him, maybe he can actually pay attention to the way the metal loop he’s holding makes contact with the jelly-like agar inside the plastic plate and not disappoint Seunghan with the results. However, it’s not realistic because even still, Wonbin takes note of all your beauty and remains completely bewitched.

“Honestly I wish...I mean Minjeong, Yunjin and I are gonna do a rom-com binge and bake desserts…but you know…not any plans with someone like that…”

Your temporary lab partner tries to hide his smile and nods silently as he continues switching between spreading bacteria on the plate with the metal loop and then sterilizing the loop in the blue flame.

The rest of lab goes smoothly as Wonbin tries to quell the embers within him for the time remaining. There’s forty minutes left but technically to you Wonbin knows time is dashing away and it should feel like there’s what but only ten minutes left to do everything. Your pair was a few steps ahead of the others, just like how it would be when Taehyun accompanied you every week.

Wonbin has been psyching himself up the past two hours to finally ask you out but currently he’s stuck in his head and just can’t seem to get it out. Does he chase you after you’ve stepped foot out of the lab or should he leave you be? Or maybe he can try next week. He’ll keep telling himself that until there’s one day of instruction left and then he won’t see you for three months and then he’ll lament the entire summer to Seunghan that he didn’t say shit.

He can do that…or just rip the bandage off at an agonizing speed.

The last Petri dish that Wonbin holds is being wrapped in parafilm to prevent contamination. He’d been going through the motions of the procedure while simultaneously not paying attention to his surroundings, at his own self’s behest. You’ve already cleaned the entire lab bench and he doesn’t notice until he hears “see you in Virology,” and suddenly you’re slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

It’s now or next week…or never—wait you know that Wonbin’s in your Virology class? What you said is ringing in his ears and it hits him all at once.

Petri dishes in hand and turning around, Wonbin freezes in his tracks.

“Um…”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” his own mouth betrays him and suddenly it’s all coming out much too quickly for his liking.

You’re about to answer but before you can even get a word in, “I-I don’t mean to interfere with your plans with your friends but uh, if you wanted to do something like that I’m down.”

Your lips press into a line and Wonbin is about to pass out from the threatening fluorescent classroom lights.

“Park Wonbin…are you asking me out on a date?” He can practically feel his sweat melting the parafilm tape off and a vision of him dropping the Petri dishes in front of you, cracking open and shattering, exposing E.coli to everyone in the room flashes before him. He blinks once and calms his vice grip on the plates.

“Yes. Yes I am asking you out on a date,” Wonbin looks down at your sneakers, not knowing where else to shift his gaze to.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you smirk, slinging the other strap of your backpack over your other shoulder and saluting.

Park Wonbin swears his heart is on fire and does a backflip off a fifty foot cliff. A curve forming on his lips, he smiles slightly waving with the plates still in his hand, “see ya…”

You halt your forward movement and turn back around, “Wonbin?” he perks up again, “you should sit next to me in lecture on Tuesday.”

#riize imagines #riize scenarios #wonbin scenarios #wonbin x reader #riize fluff #wonbin fluff #wonbin imagines #riize #wonbin

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rafferty3207 · 1 year ago

Note

omg I'm the anon who requested the jamie x reader neighbours fic and boy you delivered! fucking love it! can't wait for part 2

This is so lovely anon, I'm so glad you liked it!!! For you, I will deliver a part two with the caveat that I'm so sorry I got carried away and now it will be in three parts (sorry again), but the last part will be the finale!!! Anyway I present to you:

Too Good to Be True (part two)

read part one here

warnings: allusions to abuse, mention of anxiety/panic attack, daddy issues, two hopeless idiots flirting, a bit of angst at the end but worth it (sorry again)

A/N: I have nothing to add except this gif is not mine and has turned me feral

It’s been several days since you left your phone number and you are nervous.

You don’t get why you care so much.

It’s just Jamie, your annoying neighbour. Your annoying, but also extremely handsome neighbour. Your annoying, handsome neighbour who massaged your feet, and your legs, and almost your thighs and god you couldn’t think straight. You’d been able to get nothing done as you had spent the last few days just constantly replaying that evening in your head. And to make things worse, it turns out Annoying Handsome Jamie was in fact a very famous Premier League footballer. Who has also been caught having sex on TV. (Yes, you had binged the entirety of his Lust Conquers All series since that night, but that was neither her nor there.)

After almost a week you had given up. The exhibition was just under two weeks away and you hadn’t seen him in the garden or outside the house at all. He had probably come to the conclusion that you were both too weird and too normal for him and the only conclusion was move on with your life and forget his stupid sexy face ever existed, when you got a text.

u free tonight

Jxoxo

Of course, you wanted to play it cool. After all, you had spent the entirety of the week waiting for this message.

29 minutes and 59 seconds later.

I might be.

The phone immediately pings.

do u not know??

xoxo

Depends, what are you thinking?

thought u wanted a model

Xoxo

Of course, he was thinking about the painting. As you also definitely were. You were a professional artist. Almost.

What time?

ill come after the match

You spend your evening preparing and also perhaps figuring out an outfit that says 'casual bohemian artist that definitely doesn't care' while redoing your makeup twice. However, as the hours stretch on and on and on you are at the point of giving up and going to bed, when the doorbell finally rings.

You race down, before waiting a minute, quickly checking yourself in the mirror and pulling out your phone to pretend you had already been looking at something when you open the door.

But before you can pull the casual act, he walks right past you.

“Hello to you too, Jamie.”

He strides into your living room where the canvas is set up and immediately starts taking his clothes off.

“Woah, what do you think you’re doing there?”

“Er, I thought you were painting nudes?”

“Er no-” At this point his shirt has already come off and he’s starting to unbutton his trousers. Of course he is very toned, with tanned arms and neck where his football shirt has been. You feel the breath knocked out of your body, glimpsing the very top of his boxers as you struggle for words.. He looks at you confused. Eventually you stutter an answer. "K-Keep the trousers on, okay?”

“What should I do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do I pose, like?” You shrug.

“However you want to, Jamie.”

“I dunno what I want.” You sigh.

“You just need to stand there and look pretty.”

“Well I do that all the time, so.”

“Great. So just…keep doing that.”

Jamie smiles to himself.

“What is it?”

“So you do think I’m pretty?” He smirks at you. You fold your arms.

“What are you, a sixteen year old girl Jamie?” You start sketching. “Besides, you know what you look like.” You go back to drawing in silence. You swear you see his cheeks dust pink for a second before he ouffs his chest back out and smiles.

“Aren’t you going to ask if I think you’re pretty?”

You freeze.

“No, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m not sixteen. I am an adult woman and I don’t need random men for unsolicited affirmation, no matter how pretty they are.”

Jamie opens his mouth, before closing it again. Maybe that was a bit harsh, but what else could you say? Tell me how pretty you think I am Jamie. Or better yet, show me. I’m dying to know. You could practically feel the feminism leaving your body.

You dismiss these thoughts and get back to sketching. You can see Jamie is looking down and acting fidgety, swinging his arms.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” You walk over and plant your arms on his shoulders. He is surprisingly warm and firm to the touch, and you try not to blush. “Is it okay if I move you?”

He nods, surprisingly quiet. You turn him ever so slightly, before gently pushing him down onto your stool. As you move one of his (very muscly) arms, you swear you feel a slight tremor. Was he shaking? You step a little closer, a hand on his back.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Jamie.”

His face hardens.

“But I said I will, so I will.”

“But you don’t have to. Only do this if you want to.” You smile at him, and his face softens again.

“I do want to, trust me. It’s just been a long day.”

“Okay, but if you need to stop or take a break, just say the word.”

You step back to your canvas. You try to focus solely on the drawing, but every time he looks at you, you find your whole body heating up. Despite this, you steal glances anyway. He stares at you constantly, in a way that makes you feel stupid and giggly. Observing all the soft and hard lines of his body, you eventually start to notice small scars all over his body until you reach his hands. You don’t know why it took you so long to notice, but his knuckles are slightly bruised.

“Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about your day.”

“Why? It was dead boring.”

“I don’t know. I find it helps me find the right mood.” You prepare your brushes. “You know, it tells me what colours to use.”

“Oh. I mean, nothing much happened.” He looks down at his feet. “I got up, went to play football, came here.”

“But why did you text me? Why today?”

“I dunno.” You sit in silence for a moment, as you mix the colours. “I mean, my dad came to the match.”

“Right.”

“Pulled his usual shit.”

“Usual shit?”

“Just being a complete dickhead.” You start painting.

“In what way?”

“Saying stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just the usual stuff.”

“You keep saying “usual” Jamie. I don’t think whatever he said is usual for most people.”

“What about your dad? He said that thing about you being a teacher right? Because you couldn’t paint or summat?” You put your brush down.

“Yeah he did say that. He says a lot of shit, none of which I would consider usual. Or at least it shouldn’t be.” You step off your chair and towards Jamie, reaching gently for his hand. “We don’t just have to take this shit, you know.”

“I don’t fucking take it!” He pulls away. You flinch back. He looks alarmed as he realises. “I should go.” He starts to walk out.

“Jamie, I didn’t mean to upset you -” You walk after him as he paces towards the door. He halts at the entrance.

“I’m not upset, I just - I came here because I didn’t want to think about my dad. When I’m with you, I never think about him. Or anything else, really.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.” Before you can reply, he runs off.

The next few days pass by. You send a few texts to Jamie, but no reply. The exhibition is only a couple of days away now, so you try to keep yourself busy. But his words won’t stop swirling in your head to the point you struggle to sleep. So you do what you always do: paint.

It’s not until one of these nights when you're up late at the canvas that you glance out of the window. Your heart stops. Someone is lying in Jamie's garden, very still. You dare to look closer. Is that..Jamie? He looks glassy eyed. He can't have...Without thinking, you run down.

"Jamie! Jamie!" Your heart is thumping in your ears so loudly you can't hear anything else. "Jamie are you okay?" You ask as you scramble to climb the fence. However just as you are almost over, you catch your foot, spectacularly falling over it into the bushes. You hear that trademark laugh.

"Why are you laughing? I thought you were dead, dipshit!" You say, crawling out of the shrubbery.

He remains lying down but he’s smiling at you now.

"Why would you think I was dead?"

"Why are you lying in your garden on your back completely still at 2am? Let's not pretend this is normal." You crawl down next to him.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“No I won’t.”

He looks away from you.

“I mean everyone else does, why wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t think they do.”

“There’s my dad. Plus, I’ve read Twitter.”

“You know how I feel about your dad and Twitter is full of very stupid people. But never mind them. I can promise you I don’t. And let’s be honest, I’m the only opinion that matters.” He scoffs as you offer him a pinky. But, he puts his pinky in yours before looking back up at the night sky.

"I can't get up."

"What? Are you injured?"

“No…I dunno, I told you it was stupid."

“It's clearly not that stupid. Are you okay Jamie?”

"I dunno. I was thinking about the other night with you and my dad and then I came outside because I needed some fresh air and then I lay down and started thinking about everything and now it feels like I'm stuck here. It's stupid -"

“Stop saying that.” You lie down and grab his hand. “Sometimes when you've gone through some shit, it comes out of your body in weird ways. But you're okay. We can stay here for as long as you like, but when we get up, you will be able to.”

He nods, and the two of you lie there holding hands in silence. You take some deep breaths and he follows. Eventually a small voice pipes up.

“I think I can go in now.”

You sit up and slowly pull him.

"See?"

He smiles at you gingerly before he looks down.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Huh?”

You look down. Both your knees are cut, along with one of your palms and your wrist.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

He gently holds your wrist up to the light. He looks sad.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I need to work on my graceful dismount. Either that or just walk around to the back door.”

“I mean, I dunno, I think you could give Simone Biles a run for her money.” You swat him.

“Oi, you cheeky shit! Next time I’ll just leave you for dead.”

“I think the blood loss is going to your head, we should treat that ASAP.” He leads you into his house. “I think I’ve got a first aid kit upstairs.”

He starts walking up and you follow him. He seems surprised. You realise your error.

“Oh, I can wait downstairs if you like.”

“Er, no, it’s fine.” He steps into a bedroom and starts rummaging around in what is clearly an ensuite bathroom. You sit on the edge of his bed and look around. There’s pictures of him and his mum, as well as some pictures with the team and one with a slightly older moustachioed man.

“Is that your dad?”

He pokes his head out and laughs.

“No, that’s our coach Ted.” You look up at him. “He’s a nice guy though. Annoyingly nice. Almost too nice, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” It was clear Jamie was soft on this man, but you wouldn’t push it today. He sits down and starts gently wiping the cuts. It is the same tenderness he held your foot, and it is the same tenderness that is slowly melting your heart. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you were starting to fall for Jamie Tartt.

You yawn as he applies the final plaster. “Right, you need to go to sleep.” He says, through his own yawn.

"I could say the same for you"

You sit up to leave, but hesitate. YOu feel Jamie’s about to say something.

“Hey, I don’t suppose.. You’d maybe fancy…”

You turn around.

“Staying around?”

Jamie looks at you pleadingly.

“No funny business I promise.” He looks up and offers you a pinky.

“What if I want funny business?”

“Eh?”

“I’m just messing with you Jamie. Besides, I’ve already stolen your knickers anyway.”

“Someone told me that’s a weird thing to say to people.”

“Well, that person sounds very wise.” You look around. “Can I use your bathroom?”

He gestures towards it and you go in. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you think: what the fuck is going on here? You splash some water on your face and tell yourself to get a grip.

“There’s a spare toothbrush in the blue pot if you need it.” Jamie calls through the door.

“Ew gross Jamie, I don’t want to use one of your many girlfriend’s toothbrushes!”

“I’ll have you know that’s brand new as I don’t have any girlfriends at the moment. Although there are sanitary towels if you need them love.”

“Piss off you patronising git!”

“‘Ey, I was trying to be nice and a good feminist and that.”

You brush your teeth before coming out and leaning against the doorframe.

“No girlfriends? What happened to the Island’s top scorer?”

He groans before flopping back onto the bed.

“I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I’ve been doing my research.” You get into the bed next to him. He flashes you a dirty grin.

“Bet you have, you little perv.”

“Me? The perv? What you did in that jacuzzi was a crime to my eyes, and probably in several countries.”

“Woah, you have been doing your research - that was like episode 42? 43?”

“What can I say, you make good television?”

Jamie pulls the duvet back before hovering for a moment.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” He gestures to the bed.

“I know. But I’ve been in your position before, and I really needed a friend back then. And I think you would do the same.”

“Any time.”

You squeeze his hand.

“Now go to sleep, you menace.”

“Aye aye captain.”

____

You wake up and find yourself once again not in your own bedroom. In fact, not only are you not in your own bedroom, but you appear to be cuddling Jamie Tartt. You panic silently. Your leg is swung over his, while his arm is draped over you. You try to move, but still asleep, he squeezes you a little tighter. And then something really surprising happens.

He kisses you. Just a little kiss on the forehead, but your chest is fluttering. You hate to admit it but, it feels just so natural. You’re so content and relaxed in his arms then…

Fuck. You fell back asleep. You’re in the exact same problem as before.

This time however, you are both awoken by Jamie’s phone going off. He reaches to switch it off, eyes still closed, but then it rings again. And again. The third time his eyes shoot open.

“Shit!”

“What is it?” You ask from behind bleary eyes.

“The match!”

You slowly sit up and watch him run around and get dressed, silently handing him things on occasion. He runs downstairs and you plod along after him, still half asleep. He runs out of the door, before abruptly stopping and turning around.

“Aren’t you going to wish me good luck or something?”

You wrinkle your nose at him in confusion.

“I don’t need to. You’re going to smash it anyway.”

“How do you know that?”

You shrug and smile.

“I just know.”

At this point, he strides right up to you, before cupping your face in both his hands.

“Jamie what are -” Before you can finish, he kisses you, hard. Your eyes flutter closed and you melt into the kiss, before he pulls away, but only just. His arm reaches around the small of your back and his forehead touching yours, he whispers.

“Wait for me.”

He runs off to his car, and you stroke your bottom lip, where you trace the swell of where he used to be.

Your heart is still pounding and you are unsure what to do with yourself, so you try to make yourself at home. You take a very long, hot shower before getting changed. Of course, you didn’t have any clothes here, so you find some pyjama shorts along with one of Jamie’s old jerseys.

You sit down to watch the match. You had never really gotten into football, but now you were glued to the screen. You couldn’t believe that the little Jamie on screen was the same one who shared a bed with you last night. And the same Jamie that kissed you…

The game is electric, and Jamie in particular is the standout player. Even the commentators remark on his zest this match as he keeps skilfully weaving through the players to lead Richmond into not one, not two but three goals.

Once the match is done, you watch, still glued to your seat when Jamie is invited to an interview.

“Jamie the way you played today was extraordinary, against Man City too. If you don’t mind us asking, what happened?”

“Ah well, I was really inspired by Simone Biles. She’s honestly changed my life.” At that moment, he turns straight to the camera, grins and winks, and you feel like he’s somehow winking right at you. Your heart skips a beat. You were really in trouble.

You look at your phone and Jamie Tartt is trending. Simone Biles herself has already tweeted reminding everyone she is a married woman and has never met Jamie. There are plenty of other women, including some famous other gymnasts and celebrities offering their Biles-like services to Jamie in some rather explicit tweets. You wonder if Jamie reads these ones too.

You walk to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and as you wait for the kettle to boil, you look at Jamie’s calendar. There’s all sorts of notes, primarily training and matchs but you notice your exhibit is there too, with a little heart drawn around it. Jamie never stopped surprising you. But then a cold shock goes down your spine. You remembered today’s date. You are meant to be going to the gallery this evening to plan the exhibition. Shit. You check the time. You’ve still got three hours left, but you need to get back into your flat ASAP. You scramble around before realising that you had left your phone in the flat last night in the chaos to get out. But you also remembered Jamie and what he had said.

Wait for me.

You write a little note and stick it on the fridge.

____

Jamie comes back way later than he planned. Of course, after the match, there were drinks and celebrations but he couldn’t concentrate on them, just trying to leave to get back to you. He finally manages to break away, but when he gets home, he finds the living room empty. He searches around the rest of the house, and you are nowhere to be found. He checks his phone. No messages. He gets a message through from Keeley about how he’s trending online.

Of course he sees all the Simone Biles stuff and smiles to himself. He made a note to send Simone Biles a message in future, if this all worked out. Then he sees all the stuff other women are saying online. A lot of it is quite graphic and he wondered what you’d think. He imagined the two of you laughing together at them. Then he sees. The tabloids are already speculating. Not only do they actually think he’s having an affair with Simone Biles, but they have already posted some paparazzi shot of him with Keeley, along with long extensive timelines of his tumultuous dating history. His stomach drops. Anyone would run away if they saw this much baggage.

He tries to ring you. Once, twice, three times, No pick up. He’s desperate and pacing, until he realises he can just walk over to your front door. He rings the bell several times, before loudly knocking. Still nothing.

He can’t believe how much he’s fucked it. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you, but he couldn't help it. No one had made him feel like this, like he was going crazy but also that he was calmer than he had ever been, like riding a lifeboat in the centre of the storm. As he walks back into his flat and into his kitchen, he doesn’t see the small corner of a note that has fallen under the fridge. He checks his phone again.

Still nothing. What could he do?

____

Sorry for the angst kids, hope it was worth it and the finale will be juicy!! lmk if you want to be tagged in the final part!! Not sure if I've done these tags right, apols if not!!

@skewedcherries @e-mmygrey @reading-blogs @alex-sulli @cameoutstruggling93 @sqrlgrl22 @maydayfigment @aiyaiy @alipap3 @okkkkkkksure @city-of-cards

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt x reader #fanfic #romance #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt

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snz-eriya · 9 months ago

Text

A Strange Feeling (D/an H/eng snzfic, H/S/R, ft. C/aelus)

me: man I think I have writer's block again

also me: *writes nearly 2k words of horn*

anyway this is a valentine's post for @mochindayo !!!!!!! ur art is so good I wanna eat it and u deserve to have the best day ever every day!!! I hope you enjoy this fic I give as tribute to your amazingness :')

Caelus pressed on the button to open his door, wearily. It wasn’t like time was very clear if one were to look out the window, given that they were in space. Time itself was a little vague on the Astral Express. Nevertheless, he had been attempting to sleep for what felt like five years. Though to his exaggeratory mind, it was probably more like a few hours. But for some reason, his mind was running wild. No thought was consistent, only one random idea after another that captivated his attention and kept rest just out of arm’s reach. Eventually he got tired of trying, and decided to walk around the ship in hopes to tire out his body.

Or his mind, hopefully. Though it never really did seem to quiet down.

He walked past March’s room, and then Dan Heng’s. Just before he was about to turn the corner, he paused. He stepped backwards until he was in front of Dan Heng’s room again. Then back a few more steps to March’s. Then back to Dan Heng’s.

He likely would have seemed to be a lunatic in someone else’s eyes. But there was a strange feeling that he got when he walked past specifically Dan Heng’s room. An indescribable feeling. An emotion? Something that made him uneasy. Whatever it was, it made him pause. He reached a hand out, to test if the door was unlocked. It probably would be. Dan Heng’s ‘room’ was the archive, after all. And as private as he was, he didn’t really mind if someone came in without permission as long as it was for a good reason. Was feeling weird a good reason? Probably not, but who knows? Maybe Dan Heng was dying, or attacked, or something. Probably not. Unless Dan Heng refused to be loud even when dying.

Opening up the door, Caelus was relieved to see that Dan Heng was not dying. Though he expected the other to at least be asleep or something at this time(?) of night(?). But no, his fellow Nameless was up and about, at the archives, sorting through various documents and books they had collected over their journeys. Which, that was good, it wasn’t like Caelus could be bothered to remember every detail of all those wordy papers (he could barely stand to read a few sentences without getting bored) but when everyone else had already gone to bed? He could have done it earlier and avoided spending time with everyone.

Caelus had a feeling just standing there and not saying anything for an extended period of time would not give him any avoidance for creepiness, so he decided to speak up.

“Dan Heng?”

The other jumped, as if surprised by his presence. Kind of strange. The doors weren’t exactly quiet. Not a big deal though. Maybe he was just focused.

“Caelus…” Dan Heng muttered, relaxing. Maybe he was expecting an enemy too. Or for Caelus to be dying instead. In any case, he turned back to his work. “Is there something you need?”

Caelus stood for a moment. Not really. For the weird feeling to go away? But how was he supposed to describe that? “Uh… no,” he eventually replied. Dan Heng looked back at him, an eyebrow raised at his answer.

Silence stretched between them once again.

Caelus really had to stop chasing every feeling that interested him.

“Uh… so… still working? Y’know everyone else is asleep,” he finally spoke up again, the awkward energy starting to get to him.

“I could say the same to you,” Dan Heng responded coolly. It seemed like he dropped trying to figure out what Caelus was doing there, and instead turned back to the archives once more.

Caelus still felt weird. So, ignoring his own note-to-self, he approached to stare at Dan Heng’s work over his shoulder. To be honest, his eyes were so tired that the words sort of jumbled together into an incoherent mess. It was more so just to get his crew mate’s attention.

And get his attention it did. Dan Heng glanced over, turning to face Caelus again. “If you don’t need anything, why are you still here? You should be sleeping.”

“Y’know I could just… say the same thing to you, right?” Caelus replied, trying to keep an exhaustedly smug grin off his face. “You’re archiving this late? I didn’t know there was still stuff left to archive.”

“There’s always things left. Please leave me be. I have work to do,” Dan Heng requested again. Though, like he had the mind of a child, it was like being told to stop doing something just made the trailblazer want to do it more.

“I can help, if you want. I’m sure I can handle the, uh…” He picked up a random book, squinting at its title. “Underground Encyclopedia of Plants and Fungle.”

“Fungi. You’re not a child. You know how to read,” Dan Heng sighed in exasperation. Putting a hand to his head like the interaction was giving him a headache.

“Meh, close enough. C’mon, it’ll get done faster if we do it together.”

“It’s fine.”

“Look, I know you like it all to be perfect, but there’s gotta be some kind of autocorrect in this thing, right?”

“Please, Caelus, just leave me be.”

Dan Heng sounded desperate, which was strange. Typically Dan Heng would act annoyed but compliant, even more so when it came to March than him. But looking in the Nameless’ glassy eyes, it seemed like he was a few seconds away from begging.

Wait, glassy eyes? Oh, fuck. Was he actually dying? Was that his dying wish? His last words?

Caelus opened his mouth to apologize for making Dan Heng’s last moments so painful, when–

“heh’GKshu!” Dan Heng quickly turned away as soon as the sneeze rang through him. And suddenly Caelus realized that he wasn’t dying. In the traditional sense, anyway.

“Oh,” he said.

“What?” Dan Heng replied, turning back like nothing had happened at all.

“Uh, you’re sick?” Caelus stated, because it was obvious. After the evidence, anyway.

“I’m not,” Dan Heng immediately denied, turning his head away with arms crossed.

“Uh-huh.” Caelus’ eyes lidded disbelievingly, he had a small smirk on his face. “So why’re you still working, huh? To convince us that you’re not sick? Or to convince yourself? Because, just saying, I never would have seen you if I wasn’t already worried you were dying.”

Dan Heng scoffed. “Well, I’m definitely not dying.”

“You are sick, though.”

“heH’GXkshu!”

Dan Heng faced Caelus again after turning away to sneeze, about to protest for a second time. Caelus managed to shut it down before it started again.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not sick, and the whole sneezing is just… a coincidence?” He waved his hand absently.

Dan Heng didn’t reply that time. His arguments had been effectively dismantled, and Caelus wasn’t stupid, just nonsensical most of the time.

He sighed, resting his head on an open palm, kept upright by the table. Caelus waited for a moment to see if anything more would be said, but he was met with silence. He took it as permission to carry out his plan.

He reached over and placed the back of his hand onto Dan Heng’s cheek, only to be met with his disapproving stare. “Wrong spot,” he muttered.

“Oh. Right,” Caelus recalled, moving his touch to the man’s forehead instead. He was met with a dry, hot temperature, something that he assumed was probably not good.

He pulled back, hands on his hips. “Yeah, in my very professional opinion, you should be in bed. Not at a desk.”

“But–”

“Nuh-uh, doctor’s orders, unless you want me to get a literal doctor in here.”

“Caelus–”

“I will call Natasha!” Caelus pulled out his phone, just to make his point entirely clear.

That seemed to shake the last of Dan Heng’s resolve. His shoulders lowered like he had given up all remaining fight. “Fine.”

Caelus smiled, pleased with his victory. “Good. Now, c’mon.” He took Dan Heng’s hand and started dragging him up without another thought.

“Wh- huh? My bed’s right there,” Dan Heng looked down at his blanket and pillow cluelessly, then back up and Caelus as he continued to be pulled away.

“Yeah, that’s not really a sickbed. Or a bed. Or anything other than a poor man’s attempt,” the trailblazer replied. “You need a real bed. A Trailblazer-patented bed, at that.”

Dan Heng sighed. “You’re ridiculous. There’s no changing your mind, is there?”

“The only person on this ship more stubborn than you is me.”

That was fairly accurate.

As soon as they had left Dan Heng’s room, its owner soon crumpled down into another sneeze.

“heH’IGHkshu! hih’GXKshih! hh- heh… hih-”

“Stuck?” Caelus wondered, glancing back at his companion. His expression was pained, one eye closed and the other watering. He panted, desperately waiting for the urge to take over once again, but it remained out of reach.

“Here,” the trailblazer spoke, opening the door to his room as the lights flickered on all at once. He dragged Dan Heng along with him. The result was immediate.

“hEH’KGhshu! heH’GKshih! heH- hIH’XGkhuh! huh…”

Dan Heng sighed in relief as the fit finally came to an end. He looked about fifteen shades brighter red, though whether that was from the fever or the embarrassment was anyone’s guess. Caelus, for all the satisfaction being helpful gave him, wasn’t exactly willing to let Dan Heng suffer for his weak fulfillment.

“Now, to bed with you.” He wrapped an arm around Dan Heng’s shoulders, practically carrying him the rest of the way to bed.

The other man had enough energy to cooperate by the time he was being lied down, allowing Caelus to tuck him in like a child despite his protests. He had to admit that it was comfier than his own room.

Caelus let out a breath, like he was exhausted from a workout. “Okay. Now, sleep.”

Dan Heng raised an eyebrow at him. “I can’t do that on command.”

“I’m pretty sure you can. You almost passed out as soon as we got in here.”

Had he? He must have been more tired than he thought.

“And where will you be sleeping? Sharing a bed with me wouldn’t be smart if I’m ill.”

“Yeah, ‘if,’” Caelus rolled his eyes. Then, he pointed his thumb down towards the ground. “The floor.”

Dan Heng stared for a moment. “...The floor.”

Caelus glanced to the side, then back to his companion. “...Why are you surprised? You do it.”

That couldn’t really be argued. For some reason it just felt inhumane when it came to his friend rather than him. Though that was something he could unpack another day.

“Try not to worry about it, Dan Heng. Maybe worry about yourself, for once. The rest of us are fine.” Caelus gave him a real, genuine and caring smile, before walking off towards what was probably a closet.

It was a bit hard to tell, his vision was starting to fade away, and unconsciousness was pulling at him. It was a little embarrassing to admit how relaxed he felt, in his friend’s room rather than his own.

But it gave him a feeling of safety.

And Caelus’ feeling had gone away too, he realized as he glanced back at Dan Heng’s sleeping form. He still didn’t quite have a name for it. Maybe… a feeling that something was wrong. But not just wrong in general. Something that was wrong with someone he cared about. And that was a feeling he wanted to hold onto.

#snz #eri writes #24snzvalentines #snzblr #snzfic #h/s/r #d/an h/eng #featuring c/aelus as the world's strangest caretaker #he means well he's just mentally deranged

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rollercoasterwords · 6 months ago

Note

i’m sure you have such a busy life doing great lovely things but this is my formal request as someone who has read literally all of your ao3 works and is your secret #1 stan

baby i need a long form jegulus fic from you so bad please im on my hands and knees

nothing fades like the light was so delicious but i needed MORE 😭

the really good jegulus fics are LACKING we need a hero and i nominate you

if you’re feeling bored crazy silly goofy this summer……. you know what to do.

hi! i know this message is intended to be complimentary and i’m glad u enjoy my writing but please don’t send me stuff like this lol. not once have i ever indicated that i take requests nor that i want to and it is actually quite odd to ask a stranger to write you a book for free!

like. i’m trying to say this as gently as possible but these kinds of messages are just. SO out of touch. it takes hours for me to write a single ch of a fic, hundreds of hours to write long-form novel length fics—it’s a labor of love, which is why i do it, but it’s still labor. and i’m not gonna work for anyone but myself for free! i am an adult who is in school and working two jobs on top of that to make ends meet and my main concern this summer will be making sure i can pay my rent, not writing fanfiction!

like. in an ideal world i’d be getting paid at least $20/hr for my labor. let’s estimate that it takes ~5 hours for me to write one ch. if u want like a 20-30 ch book length fic, that would run u about $2-3k. and i still might be undervaluing my own work there! does that help put into perspective the amount of work this is? and not just the amount of work i’m doing, but the amount of work ANY fanfic writer is doing, and sharing for free? please realize that it is actually insane that people are ALREADY writing & sharing free books with you.

also. not really sure what u mean when u say really good jegulus fics are lacking and honestly that is a mean thing to say! i know u mean it as a compliment to me but i do not want any compliments that put other writers down. there are lots of really talented and wonderful writers pouring their time and effort into longform jegulus fics; i’m sure you can find some that u like if u spend some time looking. and this is definitely not the place to look bc ‘nothing fades like the light’ is probably the only jegulus fic i will ever write simply bc i don’t like regulus v much! lol

anyway. want to reiterate that i’m trying to say this all gently bc im assuming that u are maybe someone young who does not write fic and/or does not have to worry abt paying rent etc and that’s why maybe u didn’t understand how this message would come across. but please take this as a learning opportunity to understand why this is a very weird thing to send someone and definitely do not send me messages like this again lol

#honestly if i could get paid for fic requests i might bc. i need money 😭#however that is illegal! so #also. please don’t send me an apology or anything there is no need to apologize #sometimes when i answer messages like this and im like hey this is annoying. ppl follow up w long apology messages. that’s annoying too!#like idk u so it really doesn’t matter that much if u send me one annoying anon message #let’s just both move on & not send annoying messages again <3 peace & love #ask

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thedawningofthehour · 7 months ago

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JUSt needed to tell you that thinking about "Profile in Quicksilver" got me through the day 💕💕💕

I also love how you incorporate worldbuilding details seamlessly into the narrative without being overwhelming! I love reading Gale & Draxum talking! Do u have any religion/traditions/custom headcanons that didn't show up in the fic (yet)?

thank you so much for writing!!!

Thank you! I do try to avoid lore dumps, even if they can be interesting at times. Ideally, people won't realize they're being lore dumped on. It's like, in a dance when you transition to a different blocking, ideally the audience shouldn't even notice you're transitioning, it should just feel like part of the choreography.

And OH FUCKING BOY DO I. Thinking about the background of the Hidden City and the Yokai as a whole has been so much fun. Making it fit with the lore we see in the show and the actual history of New York City has been so much fun-like, it's not that there happens to be a giant monster city under NYC, NYC became NYC because there was a giant monster city already there. And that's why NYC is Like That. Why are all the dark armor pieces in New York? Because that's where most magic is now, magical beings were driven out from everywhere else.

As far as religion, I've been keeping them pretty secular? Mostly because that's just an aspect I don't feel really jives with TMNT. I have a scene later on where Leo and Mikey attend church with April and her parents, but it's more out of curiosity than any real desire to take up religion. They see it as more of a cool cultural thing that an actual system of beliefs. One of the main things I can remember right now is Leo bitching about the smell of incense.

In the background, I think of the Yokai as following a lot of pagan religions. These people haven't been directly colonized or conquered (or more accurately, were ethnically cleansed instead of being colonized or conquered) so Christianity and Islam are much less common. Probably the same with some other religions that spread due to conquest, but I'm not...entirely sure what those religions would be. (Hellenism? Zoroastrianism? Taoism? Do those fit? I'm singling out Abrahamic religions because those are the most common currently) Also Christianity and Islam are pretty young religions. I haven't made a definite timeline, but I'm leaning towards most Yokai communities being established more than 2000 years ago. Leo mentioned in the Christmas chapter that there were a lot of bright reds and lights down in the Hidden City-pretty much everyone has a winter solstice holiday, so officially they're celebrating the solstice instead of any one religious holiday, and everyone's kind of free to celebrate however they want. Not a lot goes down in December, actually. Schools have most of the month off, a lot of workplaces cut their hours or just straight shut up for a few weeks, most people are partying and spending time with family. It's basically like their summer vacation.

Oh! One thing I will probably work in at some point, but the last of the Yokai migrations happened during WW1. The few remaining exclaves in the human world (like the one in Chongqing, where Tigerclaw was living) basically went "fuck it" and packed up shop, even in places where there was no fighting. It was the nail that drove home that they couldn't exist alongside humans, that even if they weren't warring with the humans themselves they would still get roped into human conflicts, and eventually they would be killed off.

And the thing is, up until recently, the Hidden City was still rather closed off from the human world, despite living underneath NYC. You have to get government approval to go topside, so most people were living their entire lives underground without ever stepping foot in NYC proper. It was really with the invention of television and then the internet that bridged the gap from the Yokai's side, and both those things took a lot longer for the Yokai to adopt. So a lot of human stuff that happened from the 1910s to around 1970s-1980s era didn't get a lot of attention down there.

Like. They know WWII happened. Objectively. By that I mean they knew shit was going down, so the Heads pulled down just about everyone who worked up top and they all just bunkered down for several years until they realized the war was over. It was an annoyance for most of them, a period of time where they couldn't get certain products or had their business disrupted because somewhere in their chain was a guy who worked at a human company and he can't do that now. They were able to read about what happened afterwards and knew vaguely of all the genocides, but most of them didn't look into it very hard. Just more humans bent on killing each other, what else was new? Most of them will still refer to WW1 as 'The Great War.'

And I thought of this scene before October, and I feel like I probably shouldn't use it now due to how politically charged it is, but originally I wanted to include a scene where someone mentions Israel and Josh is really confused because the last time he was living aboveground that area was controlled by the Ottomans and was officially part of Syria. Maybe independent Jerusalem, but why would it be Israel? Bella has to pull him aside and explain. He knew about the Holocaust, but he had no knowledge of Mandatory Palestine or the Nakba. The entire time she's talking and his eyes are just bugging out.

On the plus side, India is no longer under British rule, so he was probably pretty happy to find that out?

I had like several other things I rambled about and deleted because they were going entirely off the rails, I might post those at another time. I've thought about this world way too much and I've written far too little down. (also sorry it took so long to respond! I knew I'd go crazy and wanted to get the chapter done first, and the chapter took longer than I expected lol)

#doth asks #i both love and hate info-dumping worldbuilding stuff like i feel like i'm just total stream of consciousness sometimes

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tvx6000 · 1 year ago

Text

inevitable contentment

genre : fluff, slight angst, comfort

pairing : seungmin x fem!reader

warnings : anxiety, overstimulation

wc : 700

t-note: i honestly hate this fic, i feel like it makes no sense and is kinda corny, but it's still worth posting ig. again, my writing has gotten better i swear!!! this is probably over a year old, and completely self indulgent. anywho, i'd appreciate any feedback you have, enjoy cuties! (btw, a rotring is a cool pencil!!! just 4 context, i just love them lol)

1:22 pm

honestly…. you had never known u could be so aware of so many things before. the way that butterfly shaped group number swung gently as it hung above the desks. the discarded rotring 600. 0.5- i mean who would just throw away a perfectly good black and red rotring??

and although you could spend hours pondering on how someone could be so careless and stupid to throw away SUCH… a good pencil. though deep down, you knew that this wasn’t real. i mean yeah you were definitely in your 4th period mythology class and there was DEFINITELY a perfectly good S tier pencil laying on the ground diagonal from you but, this wasn’t the real reason your brain was going 1000 miles per minute. i mean that doesn’t even qualify as a real reason to be so hyper aware and anxious but really, the itch you had to get up and grab that pencil was this close to sending you into an aneurysm.

but before you could begin to work up the courage, that bittersweet sound of the school bell rang. signaling it was time for lunch.

you swiftly grabbed all your things and left, sending a sweet smile toward your teacher on the way out.

as you made your way through the halls, you contemplated bailing. you knew the minute you saw him everything in you, whatever it was, would come crashing down and you’d end up crying into his chest for the entirety of lunch. again.

but you knew better than that. you knew that the minute you didn’t show he’d start blowing up your phone and searching all over for you and someway, somehow, he’d find you. so with a deep sigh, you continued your trek toward the empty orchestra room.

upon your arrival, you could already feel the lump in your stomach. slowly climbing its way up your esophagus, soon to find its home in your throat. but it's already long forgotten as you see that gorgeous head of black hair. almost instantaneously you feel a comforting warmth fill your chest.

you shuffle foot to foot, waiting for him to notice you’re there. although the manga he’s reading seems to have quite the interesting plot.

then, as if he could sense you waiting, his head whipped around. jesus, is he okay? looks like he almost got whi-

“oh my goodness”

he shot up giddily and started walking toward you

oh boy here comes the waterworks

your face contorts into an awkward look as you try to keep the last of your dignity to yourself just this once, but that no longer matters anymore as he wraps his arms around your waist and beams you the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hi sweetness”

he says in the most gentle voice you could’ve ever imagined

but now, your brain begins to focus a little less on the pretty boy in front of you and a little more on the ache in your throat as you let out a watery,

“hi”

seungmin immediately leaned back to see if he could catch a glance of your face but you could feel the tears about to drop, and you couldn’t handle anymore embarrassment right now

“what’s wrong baby? what happened”

you simply shook your head in response, knowing you’d let out an ugly sob if you tried talking.

“cmon sweet girl look at me, tell me what’s wrong”

you sniffled sharply, desperate for the tears to stop,

“nothing minnie, just a bad day..”

he then wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug, moving one up to your head,

“i know that’s not it babe but i won’t push you, you wanna eat and read with me?”

you sniffled one last time before nodding,

“yes please.”

he pulled away but kept a hand on your head and moved it down to the back of your neck, bringing his thumb around to stroke your cheek

squeezing with only a bit of pressure, he quietly grunted

“ugh i just love you so much”, he mumbled with feigned irritation

you let out a small laugh and grabbed his wrist to pull him toward the chairs he had previously made himself comfortable in,

“come on im starving”

he looked at you with raw adoration in his eyes,

“alright baby let’s go.”

#taylorthawriter #skz imagines #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz comfort #stray kids oneshot #seungmin #seungmin fluff #seungmin comfort #seungmin x reader #skz x reader

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molloytheboy · 5 months ago

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tagged by @dead-ghost-walking to answer these fun fic writing questions!

How many works do you have on AO3? 42

What’s your total AO3 word count? 138,556

What fandoms do you write for? currently just the Vampire Chronicles but when I first got back into fic writing in 2020 it was Dragon Age

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Does it feel like a dream, Mr. Molloy? | Next to Never | The Fight | Come As You Are | If This Be Nothing

5. Do you respond to comments? Usually yes! I love receiving them so I try to encourage it as much as I can by interacting <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably gotta be the fic where I killed Louis (which I do still plan on finishing btw)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Holy Ground :)) this one is sickeningly sweet tbh i was in serious need of some fluff when I wrote it

8. Do you get hate on fics? only very rarely. basically never happens now that I only allow comments from people with accounts

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yes. all kinds. all of the kinds. VC Kink Week 2023

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? not currently but crossover crackfic was how i started my fic writing career back in high school. craziest was a roleplay with my bestie that involved characters from Naruto, Samurai Champloo, DNAngel, Fruits Basket, Gravitation, and Fullmetal Alchemist

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? not to my knowledge. nice thing about writing for such a small fandom someone would probably notice and notify me pretty quick

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? yes

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? idk if i can pick one definitively but its a VC ship for sure. its kind of all of them tbh all the main canon ones. i cycle thru obsessing over each of them depending on the fic im working on. if i was forced to choose at gunpoint i would go with Nickistat

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? hate the phrasing of this how dare u make me face my demons. I will finish all of my wips i will break the cycle and then i will be free and never again be plagued by thoughts about the Characters in Situations. i know this sounds like a cop out answer but i genuinely with all my heart believe that i will eventually get to all 17 of my wips this is simply the extent of my hubris

16. What are your writing strengths? dialogue i think. and smut idk can smut be a strength. tbh i haven't received a lot of constructive feedback on my writing outside of fan spaces so i dont feel qualified to answer this

17. What are your writing weaknesses? over-explaining/over-describing characters actions and motives and emotions in a scene. i feel like this is smth that doesnt come across in my final drafts as much anymore bc ive been actively working on it but this is the thing i consistently struggle with during the process. also i tend to be kind of lazy with research which isnt the best quality to have when you write mostly in historical settings. but with fanfic i feel justifed in only spending one hour instead of three reading up on life in 18th century Paris since i do have a life to get back to at some point. if i was writing for publication i would try harder

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I do it, poorly. almost exclusively French in this fandom, and a little Italian. I do my best to check multiple translation sources (from real speakers if possible) and find example sentences to base my grammar on. but again, this is a hobby so I don't hold myself to the same standard I would if I was doing it professionally

19. First fandom you wrote for? pretty sure my first fanfic was that crossover i mentioned earlier so. all of those

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? oh boy. hold on gimme a sec. ok i think its Against All Odds rn. i was at the top of my game when it comes to Loustat banter (had recently reread the first 3 books) and its very tight and compact and cinematic im still really pleased with it 2 years (??!?!?!?) later

tagging @nightcolorz @butchybats and anyone else who wants to! u can say I tagged u <3

#tag game #fic writing #my fics

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year ago

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Staring

Eli Ever(Cardale) x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: vicious/vengeful spoilers, eli literally killing people (nothing graphic), mentions of elis horrific backstory, angst, pining

Author’s Note: SHUT UP THIS WAS SO FUN. by the end of the duology I was so in love with eli, i cannot lie. I love victor as much as the next girl but damn i love an awful morally gray (morally black?) man. If anyone has any more request for either of these kings i would gladllyyyy write them <3 in the meantime i hope you enjoy this love!

Request: by anon, YOOOOO i read one of ur victor vale fics, and i am on my hands and knees bEGGING u to write for the villains duology more!! can i rq eli ever x reader where the reader isn't an EO but knew eli and victor in college? and the reader is working with victor against eli bc they don't agree w what eli's doing, and idk eli finds them or smth--sorry if that's too vague!! i am literally BEGGING for eli crumbs and pls include a lot of tension between reader and eli!! ur writing is stellar!!

Song: All I Need by Radiohead

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Eli Cardale sat across from you at the table. You had your legs folded underneath you, tingling as they fell asleep. You had been here a long time. You could tell outside the window that the sun was starting to go down. The stained glass windows of the library were tricky like that, never quite revealing if it was as late as it seemed. Eli had his nose stuck in a book still. You wondered where Victor was, if he was studying somewhere.

“Are you done?” Eli questioned. Your head snapped back towards him. He was staring at you through the thick rims of his glasses. You smiled, shrugging.

“I’m getting sleepy,” you admitted. Eli nodded once, tucking his papers into his textbook.

“Is that code for you’re going to go find Victor?” There was a gentle edge to his voice, a slight jealous tinge. You shook your head, rubbing your eyes.

“Truly sleepy,” you promised. “I’ve been reading about boring things forever Eli. I can only do that for so long. You should share some of your brain power.” He shook his head.

Eli valued these afternoons with you. They were nice and peaceful. Life outside of these walls tended to be chaotic and with complications he could never quite grasp. In here, nothing had happened to him. It was just you and his books. He could spend forever with you and his books.

Despite the calmness of the moment, he felt the most emotion here.

“Plus, Victor is probably off studying.”

“Alright,” Eli huffed, though there was disbelief in it. You smiled as he put your things back in your book bag. You could probably make some shitty coffee back at the dorms and stay up a little bit longer. Make the day last past schoolwork. Maybe even catch up on some of your own reading endeavors. “Are we still meeting up tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes sir,” you promised. “Same time, same place?”

“Yes ma’am.” You gave him a nod as you pushed your chair under the table. Eli started to leave. You followed close behind him. “Have you studied for the test in Givens' class tomorrow?”

“Enough.”

“That doesn’t sound like enough,” he admitted. You shrugged.

“What am I gonna learn in the next 12 hours that is actually gonna help me Eli?” He shook his head. He couldn’t believe you sometimes, though he enjoyed having you around. “You disagree.”

“We have different minds,” he said. The air was refreshing. You walked down the steps of the library, the sun hitting your face. It felt nice after being cooped up for so long. You passed other students, people cramming and holding large cups of caffeine. You weaved through them on the cobblestones back to the dorms.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we have different ways of learning,” he suggested. You grinned up at him. He looked particularly handsome this evening. You knew he always teased you about liking Victor more than him but it was Eli you had always been in love with. It would always be Eli. His stoicism, his mind, his understanding without you having to say anything.

“That’s not a bad thing,” you countered.

“Did I say it was?”

“You did not.” You lifted your leg dramatically as you started to go separate ways. “I’ll see you tomorrow Eli. Don’t work too hard.”

“You know me,” he called. There was a life in his voice he didn’t recognize when he was with you. You gave him a half wave, an adorable gesture, before walking the other way.

He watched the back of your head for a moment. Your hair bounced in the sunlight. You looked gorgeous this afternoon, particularly distracting. He watched you go like you were taking a piece of him with you. Eli and Victor had decided not to tell you about their experiments, for your safety. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to. He wanted to hear your thoughts and your comments and your reserves.

He had put his foot down. Victor was more likely to slip up than he was.

He still wanted to tell you.

You turned a corner and he lost you. He dropped his head down, imagining someone else seeing him standing alone, staring at a girl who didn’t once turn back to look at him.

“Tracking him has never been easy,” Mitch grumbled. He was sitting on the hotel bed. The adjoining door was open, allowing Dol to come and go as he pleased. Sydney and you had your own separate room from the boys, at Victor’s insistence.

“Well it’s never been so fucking hard,” you muttered. You looked out the window. Eli Cardale was out there somewhere, among the people and the cars. You had recently narrowed in on him to this city but been unable to get any closer. He was supposed to be obvious when you were close. “He’s killing people. What do you mean we can’t find him now that he’s so close?”

You looked over at Victor. He was standing at the computer. He had a look of contempt on his face. You had never seen so little life in Victor. He had always been the stoic type but never as much as Eli. Now, years after college, he was almost dead in the eyes.

“We need to split up.”

“And what? Scrape the streets to see if we find any rats?” you spat.

You were different too.

“He had typical haunts. We need to find an EO and narrow them down, knowing he’ll be around them.” Victor looked at Mitch. He nodded once, getting up to go to the computer. You were never quite sure how they were able to find people so quickly but you also could never understand how they couldn't find Eli. Victor walked over to you.

“We’ll find him,” he promised. His voice was hard. You looked over at him.

He looked so old. He looked weathered. He looked like a corpse. He had died.

Eli and Victor had never let you die. They never would, not even after everything happened. You were a human, just like Mitch, and you were stuck here in this purgatory between people who had been your closest friends.

After he got out of prison Victor sought you out. He knew that to find Eli he would have to find you first. He half hoped the two of you would be together, frolicking off into the sunset, like the ordeal had never happened. That isn’t what happened.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because he’s looking for us too.”

“Do you think he knows that I’m here?”

“I don’t think he ever lost you,” he said lowly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Eli liked having his eye on you. I don’t think he would’ve let you leave his peripheral vision if it wasn’t for me.”

“What a rebel.”

“Yes ma’am.” Dol walked into the room. He jumped up on Victor’s bed and did a couple circles before lying down with a huff. Sydney was awake. Victor looked back towards the dog, remembering he had a child to care for. “Do you want to go get food while Mitch looks?” He had a gentle tinge in his voice that he saved for you and Sydney. Those in this room were the closest thing he had to family, though he would never admit that.

“Sure. I need some fresh air anyway.” You cleared your throat and walked back, grabbing some money. “Want anything Mitch? Going to the deli next door.”

“I’m alright. Filled up on protein bars.” You rolled your eyes.

“Once a jock, always a jock,” you joked.

“I don’t think-”

“Just go with it Mitch. Vic?” He shook his head. He would rather wallow and die than ask for anything he could get himself. “Syd, I'm getting food!”

“Can you get me a sandwich?” she called from the other room.

“What kind?”

“Tuna fish!”

“Kay!” You opened the door and shut it behind you. The hotel was large but it was cheap. You were okay with the sketchy neighbors as long as no one asked questions. No one got into the elevator with you on your floor and you pushed the down button. You should’ve invited Sydney to come with you. She could use the fresh air too. Dol probably needed to go to the bathroom.

You thought about how you weren’t that far. You could go back up and grab them, that way you had some company and extra hands for the two sandwiches. Maybe they had dog treats for Dol. You always loved places that thought of that because of how often Dol was around.

The elevator opened on the second floor. You stepped aside, keeping your head down so you didn’t have to make eye contact. The man walked in and pushed the first floor. The elevator started to move again.

He pushed the emergency stop button, causing the elevator to come to a harsh stop. You stumbled forward, grabbing the railing beside you.

“Hey,” you said, annoyed. You glanced up at the floors that were highlighted at 2 still. You finally looked up at him. He was wearing a large black coat with a collar that covered the side of his face. “What the fuck?” you asked, louder this time. He tilted his head towards you so you could see his eye through the thick rimmed glasses.

Your mouth clamped shut.

“Eli?” When he turned around it was like no time had passed. His face looked exactly the same, exactly the man you sat across from at the library. His eyes were the only thing different, a little less life in them. He and Victor were more alike than either cared to admit.

The elevator felt too small. You were confined in a small space with someone you had carded as the villain of this story.

But it was Eli.

“I heard you were looking for me,” he said, quietly. His voice didn’t seem threatening. There was nothing there that felt wrong.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “You’re killing people.”

“They’re not people.” You narrowed your eyes at him. There was a difference. This was the Eli you had never seen, only heard about from Victor. “You…you’re people.” You looked up at him through your hair at him. Your eyes were big, doe eyed, he would say.

“You’re people too.” He shook his head. There was a sly smile on his face. He had orchestrated his moment, he had thought about the second you would leave and that it would be just you. He needed to see you before he saw anyone else. He stayed in this town to see you.

He was obsessed with Victor.

But if he knew love, it was you.

“I’m a God.”

“Then what is Victor? What’s Serena?” You could tell you hit a hard note with Serena.

“Serena’s no longer an issue.”

“She was an issue?” You watched each other for a moment. It was nice to be there with him, even if it hurt to know how different you were.

“She was an issue.”

“Then what is Victor?”

“Victor’s a defect.”

“What happened to you?” you asked him, borderline pleaded. You took a step forward and grabbed his hand. He looked down at it like it was a foreign object. He didn’t retreat.

You didn’t do it to manipulate him. You did it because you had to, because he was right there, before you had to touch him. “What did they do to you Eli?”

There was no way you could’ve known what they did to him but the question hit him where it would've hurt. It was a touchy subject. He had the sudden urge to hug you, to wrap his arms around you and engulf you in his embrace. To kiss you, to do what he never had the time to do when you were in college. He thought of Victor. He wondered if Victor was with you now, if his worst fear had finally come to fruition.

“Eli,” you whispered. His eyes had glossed over, lost in thought. He came back, staring at you, studying your face.

“They cut me open. They took parts of me out. They couldn’t kill me.” His voice had no emotion, like he was talking about the weather.

“I’m sorry.” You knew you should be using this time to convince him to change his ways. You didn’t have him for long. You should’ve been telling him that killing was never the answer and that no matter what happened to him, he should never be taking it out on others.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that.

Without warning, you wrapped your arms around him.

His natural reaction was to tense up. He assumed you were hugging him to manipulate him, to get to the buttons, to try and hurt him. Moments passed and you stayed there, head pressed against his chest. You made no ill efforts.

He wrapped his arms around you. He put his chin on your head. He closed his eyes.

Why couldn’t it have been like this forever?

Melancholy filled up the small space. It could never last like this. You had to go back to Victor and you both knew you would tell him that Eli had been here. There is nothing more special than a short lasting mutual agreement to set things aside to have some closure.

You let him go. Your hands lingered on him as long as you could.

“You have to go?” he questioned. The tinge of emotion was back in his voice.

“They’ll come looking for me,” you said quietly. The act of going back assured him some time to leave. You were trying to help him, even now, even after everything.

He nodded once. He pushed the elevator button to start moving again. It moved down slowly but not slow enough. You both faced the door. You linked your pinky with his, refusing to look at him.

When the door opened you let out a deep breath. He let you go. You missed his touch already. He walked out the elevator doors.

Without thinking you reached forward, stopping the doors from shutting.

“Eli!” He turned back around. His cold face was back, haunting you with the differences in time. You swallowed. “It was always you.”

His face softened.

The door shut. You watched him until they shut as he turned away from you. The elevator brought you back up to your floor. Like a zombie you walked down the hallway. You had forgotten your keycard and knocked on the door.

Mitch opened the door.

“Where’s the sandwiches?”

Behind him Victor stood, watching your face. He read your numb expression and raised his chin, hardening his face.

“Eli.”

#eli ever x reader #eli ever imagines #eli ever x fem!reader #vicious imagines #vicious book imagines #eli cardale x reader #eli cardale imagines #eli cardale x fem!reader

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zenaidamacrouras1 · 1 year ago

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20 Questions For Fic Writers

@somanywords Helloooooo friend always lovely to be tagged in these games!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

18!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

554,942

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Marvel, mainly Stucky

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

(all Stucky) Plastered (59,379 words) Monoclonius (62,000 words) Unpredictable Synchronicity (114,239 words) A Climb of Passion (32,666 words) Tension and Tonic (78,978 words)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I'm chatty so it's easy for me, most of the time. Sometimes I just do little emojis. I know it stresses some writers out which is fair, but I like it, so I do it.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really do angsty endings, but I guess Manpain Spiral of Solitude, which in fairness I do think the title warns properly that there might be angst. :)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

They are all doopy and happy but Backhoe maybe? Honestly, they are all so cheesy. Sometimes I am hard on myself like, "This fanfiction I'm writing is not esoteric or high brow or relentlessly grim at all" and then have to slap myself around. There's nothing wrong with happiness.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really, though I have a few where the characters make particularly unimpressive decisions and those get some borderline negative comments, but most of my stuff is like, aggressively pleasing and my comments range from polite and supportive to deliriously charming.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh yes. The cheesy schmoopy kind full of yearning and feelings and lots of consent. I do like a sex scene where someone is a bit insecure or inexperienced, and their partner is like, "But I like you for you" and they communicate about their feelings and wants and then they are all more confident at their sex stuff, because, look, I'm a simple person with simple pleasures.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I keep threatening to do a Lord of the Rings / MCU-All the Avengers Live in the Tower Crossover and somewhere I have some notes about it. Bucky is VERY jealous of Aragorn, who keeps throwing looks at Steve, even more so when he realizes how jealous it makes Bucky. Natasha and Gimli get along very well and then Legolas is jealous of Natasha, so Legolas and Bucky end up sulking in the corner.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Dunno!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Podficced! But not translated

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, though I love collaborating with people via beta-ing each other's fics

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I mean, yanno. Stucky.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't want to say never. My Magic AU is going to be a long term thing. I don't want to give up on it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, and jokes, I think. I like writing kids.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably like, clarity of thought, consistency of voice. I re-read my shit and dear god, my adhd is so bad y'all. Particularly my one fic Tension and Tonic which is the only one I didn't have an outside beta spend literally hours making me sound comprehensible and it's really kind of embarrassing. I spend a lot of time trimming down and re-arranging to try and make it comprehensible, and then after like 6 edits, someone else looks at it and immediately points out 9500 places for improvement and then I have like 3 more people look at it. I think it's a double edged sword because the adhd helps me quickly come up with ideas but then a lot of the ideas need to be removed or re-arranged. I don't necessarily mind editing and re-editing, but it's a thing. Also my fight scenes could be better, and I am working on getting better at plot.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I enjoy it. I tend to look at reddit or other forums where native speakers are coming up with phrases they use to try for authenticity. I love dropping in what I hope will be little Easter Egg hugs for people of whatever background. Recently I worked with a graphic designer to add in some super wonky dialog and I hope it makes another graphic designer out there somewhere smile and feel seen.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Well, if we're going in the way-back time machine, I really liked Star Wars, in particular, the novels, in particular, the witch planet where all the babe-witches rode rancors. I wrote some fanfiction in early high school about them. Also Mara Jade, binches, fucking MARA JADE. She was like my first Bucky. So tragic, so sexy, so brainwashed, so competent.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh it always changes. I'm actually pretty into the shrinkiclinks I'm working on right now which is kind of a spy thriller but also very cutesy and mundane. Monoclonius I think is my happiest, easiest to read fic? So maybe that one.

I'm leaving your tags @somanywords because I love peer pressure.

No pressure tags for any writers who see this, and also @turtle-steverogers @hipsterdiva @tessabennet @voylitscope @greyhavensking @t4tstevebucky and anyone else who writes and wants to share!

#author questions #writer questions #zenaida talks (too much)#ask games

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