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sorrowsofsilence · 7 months ago

Text

Desolate Love • N.S

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader (oneshot)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst.

Prompt: His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love; but you weren't meant to be sung for, even if you loved each other first.

Authors note: I have never written anything like this publically before, but I'm feeling a little sad and angsty lol. I hope you enjoy the words that came from my heart. (ps. I know many on the taglist are here for smut, and this isn’t smut, but I'm just re-using tags since I'm not sure who enjoys what! Pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in all things!!)

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak @darkmxgician

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

He got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

A reminder of what once was.

A reminder of what would never be.

You wrote unspoken words in your diary, quarrels that would never be said aloud.

Words that confessed years of feelings, years of silenced affections.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours.

He consumed your mind; the way he smiled at you the day you met; his contagious laughter that danced through the walls in grandeur.

“Is this Henderson’s gym class?”

The voice behind startled you, and you turned, meeting a pair of ochre eyes. The stutter that left your lips caused your face to warm in embarrassment, as the messy brunette locks that fell across the boy’s features left you captivated.

“Yeah, I think so?” Your brows furrowed as you second-guessed yourself, even though you double-checked the classroom timetable a thousand times.

His lips spread into a dancing grin, his slight buck teeth chewing playfully on his bottom lip in shyness.

“Cool,” He stuck out his hand, long fingers wrapping around yours, “Noah.”

“Y/N,” You returned the smile, your ears heating as his October gaze never left yours.

You pulled away, briefly glancing down at his shirt, immediately excited.

“You like blink-182?”

Noah looked down at his shirt, pointing at it, “Oh yea, I fucking love them.”

He glanced up at you, fixated, “Do you?”

You nodded excitedly, “They’re probably my favourite band at the moment, other than the 1975, and Oasis, and-” you began to ramble, but stopped, afraid to embarrass yourself anymore than you felt you had.

Something flickered within his eyes at that moment; something you never noticed.

“Wonderwall?” He asked.

A song that became yours.

The burned CD he gave you collected dust in the corner of your room, aged and scratched from years of use. The disk player sat untouched, left as a painful reminder from when the tunes that played were melodies of hope; melodies of elation.

These feelings of grief consumed you, engulfing you into an overwhelming feeling of remorse.

The waves of heartbreak came and left, nostalgia shielding your anguish when memories flooded in.

No one ever filled you with such devotion and desire as he did; and throughout the naivety, you could have sworn it to be love.

It was the way Noah would shout your name from across the room when he saw you, or the way he would cover your eyes, asking you to guess who.

Every time you would laugh, placing your hands on top of his, saying you weren’t sure.

But you knew every time.

His long fingers would twirl your hair when he sat behind you in class, tugging the strands playfully before running his nails over your scalp.

“I just like your hair,” He’d say.

And whenever he picked up his guitar in the band room, he would strum the chords to your song, as if inviting you to listen to his lyrical confessions.

His texts consisted of using silly nicknames, and an overload of emojis to express his feelings. It was over the top, almost as if he was afraid he never came across as genuine enough without them.

Late night conversations went on for hours, laughing at the random stories and memories exchanged through flirtatious banter. You wanted to tell him everything about you, and learn everything about him.

You wanted to know his favourite colour, and what cologne he wore. His goals and dreams intrigued you, his fears and dislikes alluring.

You began to like the things he did, just to have something to talk about. You watched the shows he recommended and googled the things you didn’t know. Anything for him.

Noah would tell you how proud he was of you if you shared an accomplishment, or how pretty you looked when you wore your hair down.

He told you he loved your sneakers, and the way your oversized sweaters engulfed your body.

“You could wear mine,” He said, “You look good in my clothes.”

He would grab your hands, drawing silly pictures in Sharpie. It always left you frustrated when the image of an scribbled smiley face barely faded with each scrub.

But really, you would stare at it in admiration, blushing at the thought of his fingers brushing against yours.

“You like him, don’t you?” Your best friends pried, causing you to flush in embarrassment.

“He doesn’t like me like that,” You sighed, shaking your head, “We’re just friends.”

Just friends don’t play with each others hair like that.

Just friends don’t call each other pretty.

Just friends don’t text each other all night long.

“Is it easier to just pretend?”

Time went on, and your heart fluttered at every smile Noah shared with you, and at every word you exchanged.

The daily good morning and goodnight texts left you melting, succumbing your heart to his as he claimed it for his own.

Deep down, you knew he liked you more than just a friend. The way he treated you was special; there was no way that was how friends treat friends.

N: “Hey, your crush 100% likes you back.”

You: “Uhh hey? How would you know?”

N: “Well, I know who you like.”

You: “I guarantee you don’t.”

N: “Hmm, but I do? And I know he likes you back.”

You: “Sure Noah, haha. Go to bed.”

N: “I’m just saying. He likes you. Goodnight Y/N <3”

With a spiralling mind, your heart hammered.

Did he know how you felt about him? Did he just confess his feelings?

Hope.

It wasn’t until he pulled you into the storage closet a week later, that sorrow knocking down any previous signs of faith.

Torn.

“Y/N, I just wanted to talk… but I know you have feelings for me.”

His eyes bore into your own, sorrowful and sullen.

“Look,” he began, grabbing your hands in his, eyes glancing at your entwined fingers, “I- I just promised myself to someone else. My girl- ex-girlfriend, is coming here, and the reason we broke up was because I transferred.”

He began to ramble, unable to look into your eyes as he confessed his worries. Your heart began to shatter as you forced a small smile. Pulling your hands from his you placed them on his shoulders, causing him to pause.

“Noah,” You said softly, the words leaving your mouth a blatant lie, “It’s ok. I understand.“

His shoulders fell as he watched you. He brought you into a hug, squeezing you against his body, holding onto you.

Ludicrous. Empty.

You cried, your knees held to your chest in comfort as a shield from the feelings of abandonment. How could you be so naive?

You: “Just wanted to say thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if my feelings complicate things, I care about you a lot Noah.”

N: “I’m sorry, for everything. You mean a lot to me, and I care about you. ”

You: “If you knew who I liked all along… why did you say that my crush liked me back?”

It took him almost an hour to respond.

N: “Because I do like you Y/N. I like you a lot… but I promised myself to someone.”

The tears that fell from your face that night left you parched and broken, your world-shattering.

You found someone else a year later. Love that fulfilled your every need, someone to cherish you for you. It was someone who gave you everything; but your mind selfishly always wandered back to him.

You didn’t know that the day he found out you became spoken for, was the day he broke into a million pieces from a whole.

His heart was mutilated, head spinning with uncontrollable thoughts of regret.

How could he have let you slip through his fingers? All for some what-ifs?

He pretended to be happy for you.

Years passed, and you both grew. Both changed, both matured.

You got a ring, and Noah played in a band. You went to every show, you still showed up, even though you knew you were always a second choice.

He watched you the whole time as his fingers traced the strings of the guitar, and your heart yearned for him; screaming and aching and crying that you were just a body in the room.

It wasn’t until he found someone, that you told yourself it wasn’t healthy to fixate on past uncertainties.

It was rare you went to shows now. But when you did, you watched as he stood on that stage and sung; his smile brilliant and just for her.

But then you would meet his gaze, and you knew that the ochre was always for you. Forever yours.

His October eyes sang secret confessions as he poured his soul into the melodies of desolate love.

But you weren’t his: you weren’t mean’t to be sung for.

Some nights you called him drunk. You told him you missed him, that you wanted him to know you think about him all the time.

He told you he missed your voice, and how he wished you two still called.

He said he was happy you found someone to love you, because you deserved to be loved.

You knew he was lying.

It was the last time you talked, until you saw him sitting in the audience as you walked down the aisle, marrying a man you loved. A man who promised himself to you forever. A man who chose you first. A man who was not him.

Noah asked for your hand, he asked you for a dance. Your bodies swayed one last time in a synchronized beat, but just as friends; as desolate lovers.

You never listened to Wonderwall again.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you let out a quiet sob, unsure why you were even crying for someone who was never yours. You were meant to be happy now.

As your fingers grazed over the pages of yearning within the leathered journal, your heart reminisced the ache for unattainable amour.

A reminder of what would never be.

A reminder of what once was.

Noah got a tattoo; a constant reminder of the pain.

No one talks about the grief of a loss that was never yours to mourn.

#sorrows of silence masterlist #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian angst #angst #sad poem #bad omens angst #angst fanfic #desolate love

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sameschmidtdiffname · 9 months ago

Note

hai i have a request for a mike fic, so i was thinking of a comfort/hurt type of thing and maybe like a “i didn’t know where else to go” kind of trope where reader shows up to his house in the middle of the night distressed and he comforts her

To All I Think is Safe

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: After a family dinner gone awry, something guides you somewhere where your mind can safely wander in better memories than the ones you're making right now.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific pronouns for Reader, mentions of arguments, heavy disassociation, heavy nosebleeding, flashbacks, first kiss, date, fear of heights, fair date, author is fucking trying, fluff.

Notes: I think my bosses want me dead. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I can handle family. Who can't handle family?

The part of me knocking on the green door illuminated only by the orange streetlight a few yards away, trying to peak through one of the three window slots on the door to see if there's any sign of life inside of the modest house, praying that there is out of selfish desperation. That's who.

I hadn't called. Hadn't given notice. I'd been too caught up in the emotions of myself to do so, worried I'd be turned away if I had. The thought makes me feel ill now, my mind chastising me for such a self interested act.

For a moment I almost turn to leave, sure that no one is awake and that I've simply wasted the gas in the trip over here. But at the loud clunk of the door unlocking, I feel my heart jump and sink simultaneously as Mike peaks his head through the crack in the door, bags under his eyes and hair tossled from sleep.

"Hey," he croaked, blinking away the sleep as his tired face managed a look of surprise.

"Hey," I said softly, trying not to let my voice crack. But it does. "Is this a bad time?"

I don't know what gives my state away. Maybe it's how swollen my face is, puffy and burning from the overexposure to salt water. I can already feel the skin on my eyes balloning in a disastrously unattractive manner. Maybe it's the snot that's still on my face even after trying desperately to wipe it away, my problem being I'd run out of napkins in my car some time ago and hadn't replaced them, so I'd been resorted to just trying my best to sniff back the snot or use the arm of my jacket, which is now soaked and covered by my hand to conceal it, to wipe it away. God, it's fucking sticky and I feel gross. I don't understand why the snot won't just stop fucking flowing.

"Shit, you're bleeding," Mike says. His eyes widen as he steps forward, instantly dragging me into the house, down the hall and into the bathroom.

Oh. That's why my head hurts.

The white light is blinding and overstimulating in the small, disorganized room. One glance in the mirror and I can see the bottom half of my face is grossly smeared in the snot-blood combo running from my nose, my eyes bloodshot and more dry than a British comedy from all of the tears. I stare at myself for a moment, hardly even realizing Mike is yanking my coat off of me, stroking my hair and trying to ask me questions about what happened. I can hear his voice but the words are muffled, and even though my eyes are staring at him now, I don't know when I turned to face him or what I'm really looking at. I'm just staring at anything. My mother used to call it 'staring off into space.' It's actually a disassociation episode. The kind that can make me lose myself in other thoughts, making me distant from reality where I assume the worst of things.

I'm rational enough to know not to lean into him. If I throw myself into his arms I'll smear my shit everywhere and then he'll be grossed out and will have to play nice after I interrupted his sleep to beg for comfort that should come easily enough from my aforementioned mother, but clearly I'm adult enough now that I don't need coddling and I shouldn't have driven here and-

Am I saying this out loud? Because my mouth is moving and I'm trying to say something but I'll be honest, my head is in disarray and Mike looks worried. Me too, buddy. Me too.

My hands try to help his find a wash cloth in his closet, trying to be useful, but they're covered in snot and blood too and it's dried and horrid looking and I just feel like some sticky toddler that's wailing over nothing because that's what I'm doing, and I'm trying not to dissolve into a new wave of tears because my eyes really, really hurt and I'm gonna end up hiccuping and sobbing and I shouldn't even be here right now.

Mike's hands wrap around mine and he's trying to pull me somewhere. But he won't get out of my way, tugging me forward and blocking me like it's some game. Then I realize it's him he's trying to drag me to, and I try to push away, not wanting to get him dirty or let him fulfill some duty of pity just because he feels obligated seeing me in such a state. He's touching my hair and there's snot in that too and this is all just entirely too much, making me burst out sobbing once more as I try to hide my face in my arm, feeling all too vulnerable and alone while in a house that's not mine in any way, shape or form. But his arms feel nice around me, and he's guiding me to the bathtub and helping me lay down inside of it. When he pulls away I'm paranoid for a second that he'll turn the shower head on and wash me like a drunk, especially when he reaches for the shower handles. He presses a clean, white cloth to the spout and let's just a little bit of water out to wet the washcloth before turning the water off and coming closer to me, dabbing and wiping gently at the drying mixture on my face.

There's a long while of silence. Him carefully washing me, his touch gentle and caring as I feel the wet glumps with dried crusts fade away. The pounding in my head begins to dull to an overwhelming ache, making me shut my eyes as I softly groan. When I think he's done I dare peaking at him from under my lashes, trying to read his mind. His brows are furrowed, probably in disgust. Lips pressed together as he sits on the balls of his heels,, watching me carefully. Most likely he'll let me sleep on the couch and then kick me out in the morning. I'll be lucky if I get the "We should see other people" speech. I wouldn't blame him if my calls just couldn't connect when I get home, leaving me to wonder what could've been if I hadn't been so selfish.

I don't even know the time for fucks sake.

"I'm not crazy," I say in this broken voice that only a crazy person would have.

I don't know what's funny, but he's laughing. His hand reaches out to stroke my cheek, and he feels so warm. His callouses have this smooth texture to them. Working hands. It's the first thing I noticed when we held hands the first time. It was at some carnival thing, and Abby was with us. It was sweet under those neon lights. The rides always look so cheap, but there's something enchanting in that. It's what I focus on now as my mind finally begins to relax, allowing me the guilty pleasure of mentally slipping away into an actual memory instead of just static filling my mind and drowning everything else out unpleasantly.

"I know," Mike says softly, his thumb stroking the raw skin under my eye as he watches me with a gentle smile, one probably meant to hide his contempt. "You're okay."

The rides had these giant speakers built into them. And the workers would play songs from them, loud enough it was blaring in your ear on the ride but it was a reasonable volume when you were just walking around on the wet, overgrown and matted grass that curls around the giant cables Mike and I both had to be irritating about reminding Abby not to trip on, both of us looking down to watch for them more than looking at anything else.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Mike asks gently. He's always so gentle. Well, not always.

"Ope, someone lost their drink," I said to Mike, pointing at a spilled lemonade on the dirt path that had been created by decades of the county fair foot-traffic.

"Five second rule," Mike said, his voice low and teasing in my ear, making me burst out laughing.

"That's fucking disgusting!" I exclaimed, looking at him incredulously. A mother passing by snapped 'hey!' At me, tugging her child harshly behind her as she glared. I blushed, covering my mouth with my hand at the outburst, which made Mike laugh just as hard as I just had.

I suppose I have to talk about it. I can't really just not show up at his doorstep in the middle of the night and not just explain myself. But my teeth feel cemented together, my throat full of glue that halts the words I could use to inform him of why I look like this. And my eyes are too tired to make contact with his. So I just melt into his hand, pressing it between my cheek and my shoulder. And he doesn't press any more.

"I always liked the rides that made me feel like I was flying," Mike said as we watched Abby spin round and round with some girl she often spent her days with. Lisa Something.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning to look at him, taking a drink from the giant lemonade that was not at all real lemonade and was instead some horrid sugar that's taking five years off of our lives mixed with whatever makes the color of the drink the same as construction workers glow-in-the-dark vests that I'm sure will have like, ten different studies on how it gives you some cardiovascular disorder from overexposure in twenty years. There's a waxy ring of chapstick around my straw, so it's easy to tell which one to drink from. Mike had gotten just the one giant drink and two straws, shoving them in with a smooth smile as he handed me the already sweaty, Pepsi branded cup to hold while we walked. I think he didn't know that I noticed the twelve year old boy who'd been five people ahead of us in line do the same thing with his date earlier, but it was a cute gesture nonetheless.

"Yeah. I don't know why, it just felt comforting. Wind fuckin' up my hair and shit," he said, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he watched the two girls, who are sticking their tongues out at us as they whirl by.

"What, like you were flying away from your problems?" I ask, genuinely guessing.

"Nah, I don't really think of it like that. Just felt like I was somewhere else for a bit. Could close my eyes and the only anxiety I felt was whether or not Genie there was gonna fucken drop me," he said, glancing at me and smirking as he points at the giant airbrushed painting of Genie from Aladdin on the side of the ride. That's definitely not licensed.

"Have you eaten?" Mike asks softly, coming a little closer to me as his other hand cups my opposite cheek. At that I shake my head, pressing my lips together.

"It was all just some giant fiasco," I said as I laughed while trying to aim my basketball for the hoop several feet in front of me. Mike's made like five goals in a row and is proudly holding a very cheap rainbow dolphin with lopsided eyes for me while he watches me struggle just to get one.

"What, your prom date?" He teased, leaning closer to my ear as I take a shot. And miss. Again. "Or this?"

I turned to him, glaring and trying to suppress my amused smile.

"The date was fine, my hair was horrid," I said, turning away from the man working the booth who was trying to convince me to try again.

"I always like your hair," Mike says softly, one hand stroking my hair as he presses his forehead against mine. God, why won't he just tear into me already? The anticipation is fucking killing me.

I open my mouth to respond, but I just hiccup instead. At that he gently helps me up, guiding me out of the bathroom and leading me into the kitchen where he promises a leftover bowl of chicken noodle soup has my name written all over it in the fridge.

There's a thousand insecure questions I want to ask right now. Does he hate me? Will he hate me? Is this just a prelude to an awful breakup? But instead I just cling to my thoughts quietly, not wanting an answer to anything. Reality fading in and out of focus.

The kitchen is quiet as he moves about, dishing out the leftovers and putting them in the cheap, stained microwave he'd had to buy when Abby blew up the last one with a pitiful attempt at making her own rice Krispy treats. He leans against the counter as we wait for the rattling machine to finish, neither of us really saying anything as my leg bounces wildly in anxiety.

"Are you okay?" Mike asks softly after a moment, tilting his head. His arms are crossed in front of him, which is normal for Mike but it still makes me on edge.

I try again to speak, but I can't. It feels like I'll just blow up again if I do. So I just shrug instead, not wanting to talk about the lengthy screaming match I'd managed to find myself in earlier that night.

The microwave beeps loudly, causing us both to start, Mike pulling the door open quickly to shut it up and take out the now hot bowl, hissing under his breath at himself for not grabbing a towel as he quickly moves to set it down in front of me. If I'd been in a better state I would've laughed at the admittedly comical sight, but I felt like I'd done enough at his expense for one night.

Once situated, there's long while of silence. No other noise except for my spoon clinking against my bowl as I eat quietly, Mike watching me across the glass table as he takes a few drinks from his clear glass of water, head on his large hand. A clock ticks in the other room, the hour later than I'd wanted to be when I showed up unannounced.

"I'm sorry," I finally say in a soft voice, my spoon scraping soundlessly against the maroon bowl. "I just didn't know where else to go."

He smiles softly at that, his hand reaching across the table for mine. The touch meant to be comforting instead sends me back into my thoughts, my body stiffening as my mind tries to distract me from my anxiety and doubt.

Our hands had been brushing against each other for hours as we'd walked. Both of us were too nervous to take the others, which is a bit silly since we were grown adults. But really we hadn't had any serious discussions yet. We were still in the dinners and texting phase, dancing around any serious 'what is this' talks until we felt like we would both have similar answers ready for any questions. The night had settled in solidly now, the fairgrounds only alive by the bright lights of the rides.

The grazing, however, had come to an end when the ferris wheel started clicking towards what felt like my untimely demise.

I fucking hate ferris wheels, fun fact.

I don't think Mike particularly likes them either, based off of how stiff his body was next to mine, his eyes trained dead ahead, his jaw clenched. I think he might break a tooth. Or maybe I'm projecting.

Abby and Lisa had been insistent on riding it, and had been even more insistent that Mike and I needed to ride something with them before the night was over. And even though we both looked at the thing with a pit in our stomach, neither of us felt ridiculous about being grown adults on that ride as opposed to all the others flooded with teens and kids dodging in and out, stomping in puddles of who knows what on their way to the next ride. So we gritted our teeth, handed over our tickets and got into the cart right behind Abby and Lisa, who wouldn't stop looking back at us with amused eyes, whispering into each other's each as they covered their mouths.

"My dad worked as a carnie," I blurted out as we hung mid air, halfway up the ride while they still loaded people in. "These things are fucken sturdy."

Mike didn't look at me. Or at least he didn't turn his head. I didn't either. His silence makes my anxiety a bit worse, wondering if my random fact had somehow irritated him, or if there was something I was supposed to do that I wasn't picking up on.

"... I'm gonna die to Creed," he finally said between his gritted teeth.

My brows furrow for a moment before I realize what song is playing, and then I'm laughing. Maybe a little too much, but that's the anxiety. Abby and Lisa are darting their heads around to look down at us, trying to see what's set me off, and Creed's taking One Last Breath on the blaring radio somewhere around us as they have been for the past however many months with the top song.

"I'm never gonna escape this, they play this way too much at work," I laughed. And he started laughing too, both of us white knuckled as we gripped the bar in front of us. Then we move up again, and the cart is slightly rocking, making me feel ill.

"That's okay," Mike says softly, his thumb trailing across my knuckles as I stare down at our hands. "I was missing you, anyways."

I look up at him, trying to read his expression, my head still trying to balance my focuses. There's concern in his eyes, obvious as he realizes how awful this particular episode is.

Abby is yelling something at us, but my head is buzzing with too much anxiety to hear her.

"Go away!" Mike yells back at her, waving his hand in irritation, then stopping as he realizes he's rocking the cart. He looked back at me anxiously, trying to smile. It just looked like he'd been shot instead. "Sisters," he said shyly.

"What's she saying?" I asked him, leaning closer to hear him better over the heavy guitar.

"Nothing," he insisted. "She's just being twelve."

I go to look up, only to feel his hand on top of mine, warm and strong as he grips it a little too hard for the first time, but I think that's out of anxiety too. No matter what, the first move makes me more dizzy.

"Your dad worked fairs?" He asked anxiously, obviously trying to change the subject.

"I should've called first," I say softly, leaning onto the table and pushing the empty bowl away from me as I lay on top of my arm.

"It's okay," he reminds me in a soft voice, rising from his chair while still holding my hand. "You're home now."

"Well, I'm at your home now," I hiccup into my arm. His arms wrap around me, guiding me up and into his warm embrace that I'd been longing for for what felt like hours.

"I thought you said you liked flying!" I laughed, terrified.

"Flying! This is sitting still while dangling above death!" Mike clarified. The carts began clicking again, and we now had an easier view of the two girls in front of us, making him gasp and yell out Abby's full name in scolding.

I see why he didn't want me to look up. Abby and Lisa are miming a make-out session while they giggle obnoxiously.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna fucking ground her," he groaned, covering his forehead with his other hand. His face is completely red, his body so stiff it feels like I could break off his arm with barely any pressure, and my own heart is slamming so hard against my chest I think it's visible.

One more click and we'll be at the top. Great.

He's looking down at me, I think he's trying to get me to refocus but I just can't. I've done my duties for the night, and now I'm stuck in this emotional pit of hatred and numbness as my mind tries to remind me of a better time that just makes me feel worse because Mike is speaking again and I just can't hear him.

"She's being a wingman. Really, she's just spotting a good opportunity," I rambled in Abby's defense. Mike glanced at me, then at the tweens in front of us.

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice nerve wracked.

"Oh yeah. Every little sister does it. I mean, it's partially based in torture, but overall she's trying to help," I said quickly, my breath shortening.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking just as pale as me.

"I fucking hate heights, please distract me," I pleaded quickly, only to immediately feel his teeth click loudly against mine as he kissed me, his lips sweet with sugar and hands nearly breaking mine from his tight grip, Abby and Lisa whooping obnoxiously in front of us as we freeze in the moment. It's clumsy, certainly. And it's obvious on both ends how long it's been since either of us have done this. But it's an effective method, my mind beginning to refocus on the taste of the borderline awful lemonade fresh on his breath, his shaking hand moving from the bar to cup my cheek cold from the wind. My eyes widen in surprise, the music swelling around us and the lights somehow brighter as we rock above the rest of the fair in the squeaking booth.

When he pulls away, there's a soft smile on his face, his tongue quickly darting out to taste his own lips.

"... I like your chapstick," he said shyly, neither of us focused on the fact that we're now moving steadily in the ride, fully tuned in to the other.

"Thanks," I said softly, cheeks burning against his touch. "Strawberry."

There's a long second of nothing, and I'm vaguely aware of Abby and Lisa screaming "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" And someone is trying to shush them. I know it's not Mike because he's staring at me like an idiot. Completely satisfied and dramatically more calm as he leans in for another kiss, this time pulling me fully into his embrace.

"You're home," Mike repeats against my lips, then moving to trail along my cheeks, his hands carefully cupping my face once more as his touch grounds me back in reality. "I'll be here when your mind gets back."

As my own hands graze along his soft, cotton shirt, I feel my pulse begin to relax. Doubt beginning to creep away as his lips trail along my jaw, slowly working to my neck. It's not a demanding touch. It's just comfort. And he'll keep doing this until I return to him like I always do, and then he'll keep doing it until we both fall asleep in a tight embrace under a dozen blankets, half of which will be gone by morning as we wake in a pool of sweat across the bed from each other, only to seek the other out again in wakefulness. And there will be answers for his questions, and I'll be fine.

I'm home now.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I FINALLY FUCKING PUBLISHED SOMETHING. HOLY FUCK I'M OVERWORKED. (Fun fact, this was fucking hard because I was actively disassociating while writing the whole thing. Reader just like me frfr)

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool. Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

#josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #jhutch #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #jhutch1992 #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf mike #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you

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little-star-bun · 2 years ago

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⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 ɞ˚‧｡⋆ a/n: sorry I went on a tangent I just love Ellie Williams warnings: 18+ lesbian fanfiction!! Men and Minors DNI!!! Masturbation, slight stalking?, Ellie having no rizz;; I do not own Ellie or Tlou. ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✎ ;; I can't stop thinking about college loser!Ellie.

Her fingers are rough and calloused from playing guitar. She plays loves songs thinking of you. Creep by Radiohead is her favorite unironically.

You're telling me she left her 2010s emo phase? No she definitely still listens to pierce the veil, fall out boy, 21 pilots. And 80s/90s rock, of course.

Her cute lesbian ass wears flannels and band t-shirts. She definitely has a carabineer on her jeans to hold her keys.

She's so in love with you, one time you let her borrow a pencil and she KEPT it. She felt so guilty about it, but you honestly never noticed it was missing.

Definitely thinks playing Wonderwall by Oasis is how she's gonna confess to you.

Sometimes she even has wet dreams about you and wakes up, shoving her hand down into her sticky boxers to get herself off to the thought of you.

She definitely whimpers and begs.

She memorized your schedule secretly and makes sure she's at least somewhere around your classes so she can see you. She always hopes to start a conversation with you, but you're too busy talking to your friends.

One day you were her partner in a science lab and she was shaking so much from being around you, you had to do all the work while she took the notes.

She had to get your number for when you write up the lab paper and she wouldn't stop staring at the contact of you in her phone.

Physically has to restrain herself from texting you all day everyday.

She writes about you in her diary. It's slightly erotic the way she describes you. Pages upon pages just talking about you and how amazing you are and how she wants to make you hers.

She plays with her cunt to the thought of fucking you, imagining your face all cock drunk and your tits. God she imagines how your boobs look way too much.

Sometimes you wear tight shirts practically teasing her. She imagines if they would be perky or plump, how they would fit in her hand... She's genuinely so perverted.

Ugh the way she has that little awkward smile. She's so cute. (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

She sits behind you in class, and she can smell your shampoo. It drives her crazy. She smells all of the ones at the store, trying to find the exact one.

She found your social media (she stalks it) and likes all of your posts (respectfully), but really she screenshots your photos and saves your videos. She has a photo album dedicated to you and you hardly even know this weird girl who's just so awkward.

She genuinely has no rizz, poor baby.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Let me know if you want more ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Part Two Here

My requests and asks are open <33

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

#loser!Ellie #Ellie Williams x reader #Ellie smut #Tlou #pervert!Ellie #Ellie x reader smut #ellie headcanons #little-star-bun #I love lesbian ellie #Shes got no rizz and its perfect #shes so babygirl

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lookingfts · 2 months ago

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Talking about the fics I've written but not shared inspired me to go through my Unfinished Fics folder. Some of these are drabbles that I never posted, some of them are snippets of fics I never finished (and likely will never finish), but I'm going to share them today!

The first one is a fic where Kate is a cafe owner and Anthony plays at her open mic nights. I only really wrote the first scene (using The Night We Met before I used it in Sugar, lol.)

“Was this a stupid idea? Didi, am I actually an idiot?”

Kate rolled her eyes at Edwina’s theatrics as she wiped down the milk frother with a worn rag. “Of course not. It’ll go great, okay?”

She genuinely had no idea whether her idea would flop or not, but Kate wasn’t going to let on. She’d been trying to get Edwina to be more involved in the shop for months, and this was the first thing her sister had seemed genuinely excited about, even designing flyers and promoting the event online.

And if it did flop – if no one performed, or everyone was a talentless hack – it would be awkward but amusing, and they would never do it again. Kate hoped that wouldn’t be the case, of course, because new events had real potential to help their business, and she hated to picture the disappointment on Edwina’s face. Failure might build character, but Kate wasn’t quite ready to expose her sister to the harsh realities of the world so soon. Within those four walls, at least, she wanted to keep it at bay a little longer.

Kate felt Edwina’s anxiety rubbing off on her and waved her hand in the general direction of the tables. “We still have an hour. Go clean something and work off your nervous energy.”

Eddie bounced off to do just that as Kate stifled a yawn against her wrist. It had been a slower day, the foot traffic diminished by a steady drizzle of rain, which had fortunately stopped thirty minutes ago. They normally closed at eight but were staying open until ten, ready with decaf and homemade pastries delivered by Sophie that afternoon.

Even though mornings were their busiest time, Kate had always liked the atmosphere of the shop after dark. The aging brick walls and overstuffed leather chairs felt even more homey in the dim glow of the string lights crisscrossing the wooden rafters. During the day, her patrons were grabbing coffee or tea in a rush to somewhere else or camping out for the day to work anywhere but their cramped flats. At night, people were reading – or attempting to write – books. Chatting nervously on first dates. Business was slower, but Kate didn’t mind when the world slowed down a bit too.

Gradually, people started to filter in and take their seats, the sign-up sheet filling with names. Edwina seemed to relax at that and came back behind the counter to help Kate with the incoming orders. She spotted a few regulars, but was pleased to notice new faces as well.

“Hi, erm – do you still have spots for the open mic night?”

Kate nodded, pointing to the sheet without looking up. “Add your name there, everyone is performing in the order they signed up. The show starts in twenty minutes, would you like to order something?”

“Okay. Thanks. Espresso?”

“Sure, do you want-.” Kate’s sentence cut off abruptly as she finally glanced up, her mind going momentarily blank. Mr. Espresso was – striking, to say the least. He had a guitar case slung over his dark grey t-shirt, curly brown hair that swooped across his forehead in that way that seemed incidental but probably took quite a bit of effort, a jaw that could cut glass and dark eyes that were watching her so shrewdly that it was mildly disconcerting. “Uh, a pastry or something?”

“No, thank you.” He tugged his card out of his wallet and tapped it against the reader as Kate mentally chided herself. Since when was she into guitar boys? Ugh.

Fortunately, the odds were good that the spell would be broken the second he got on stage and broke out a mediocre cover of the white-man staple Wonderwall.

He waited by the counter as she quickly made his espresso, purposefully limiting eye contact with him lest she horribly embarrass herself again. Kate slid his cup across the faux marble surface, telling herself that she was just being polite as she muttered, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” He took his coffee and found a seat near the corner. Kate allowed herself to indulge in one last glance before she was swept up in a new wave of last-minute attendees.

The crowd settled as Edwina directed the first performer onto the little platform they’d set up as a stage, with sound equipment rented from the music store down the street. Kate had counted sixteen sign-ups on the sheet, more than she was anticipating. They were, to her utter relief, mostly good. Two people, one man and one woman, performed five-minute standup sets about their spouses, only to reveal at the end, to much applause and laughter, that they were married to each other. Three read poems; their own, she thought, though Kate wasn’t familiar enough with poetry to know for sure. There were plenty of musicians, of course, a violinist and the typical singer-songwriters with varying degrees of vocal talent. One person did magic tricks. Edwina beamed through the whole thing.

“Please welcome Anthony Bridgerton!” Eddie said into the microphone after the magician had done his grand finale with a disappearing coin.

Mr. Espresso – Anthony, apparently – positioned himself on the wooden stool on stage and checked his guitar. The audience cheered and he grinned shyly. “Thank you. I don’t perform that often, so forgive me if my nerves get the best of me.”

Kate didn’t know if she bought the whole nervous act from a man with that bone structure, but it was clearly working. A redhead in the front looked like she might throw her bra on stage, and he hadn’t even started singing yet. Kate noticed that he had his guitar case closed, a rarity among the other starving artists who had kindly requested tips.

“This song is from Lord Huron, it’s called The Night We Met.” Anthony took a deep breath and Kate was lost from the first note.

I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met

It was a lovely song, one Kate didn’t know but was certain she would listen to again. Anthony’s voice was good, soft and deep, a little raspy in the way Kate usually liked. But it was the emotion he was spilling into the lyrics that captured her attention. She was almost certain that someone’s ghost lived behind every word.

And then I can tell myself What the hell I'm supposed to do And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. Kate’s breathing hitched roughly in her chest. Those eyes that had been watching her too carefully before, dissecting and analyzing her, it had seemed, were downright devastating now. She found herself unable to move, pinned in place by the heartbreak that lanced his voice and traveled along the sharp contours of his face, triggering something in her stomach that Kate couldn’t recall feeling before.

When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet Oh, take me back to the night we met

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He reached the final chords and the song faded out. The fervent clapping, interspersed with a few whistles, snapped Kate out of her trance and she jerked back as if she’d been burned. Anthony wasn’t looking at her any longer, smiling down at his new, primarily female fans in the front row, and – oh.

She was really falling victim to the musician cliché, wasn’t she? He’d probably learned guitar to pick up women, not that Kate thought he had any problem with that to begin with, and she was just one of the many women in the crowd who had gotten caught up in his magnetism. Truly pathetic, honestly. It wasn’t often that Kate allowed herself to be swept away like that.

It was natural, of course. Musicians had an inherently sexy quality about them, and Kate had not exactly been drowning in male attention as of late. He might have a real shot at being successful, if he could win over even a card-carrying cynic like her.

Edwina announced the next act, and Kate got back to work, willing her heartbeat to settle.

#lfts unfinished fics #bridgerton #kanthony #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton fic

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leasstories · 10 months ago

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Mutual Healing

Eddie Munson x Gn!reader

TW : Depression, suicidal thoughts

WC: ≈2.1K

Depression is a bitch. You’ve been suffering from depression for 2 years now. Your beautiful face slowly lost color and life, you started losing weight and isolating yourself. Now, you are alone. You pushed away your only friend, her name was Robin Buckley and after months of trying to reach out she simply gave up. Everyone abandoned you in your life anyway, this was just, according to you, one more proof that you were not necessary. The problem with thinking that, with feeling useless and unimportant is that it fuels your want to disappear. It comforts you in the idea that life doesn’t worth being lived.

Your dad died when you were 10 and your mom has been neglecting you ever since. She drowns herself into alcohol and is most of the time away from home. We are in January, and you finally gave High School up. Well not officially, but you haven’t been going for weeks, even months now.

Today, you have to go to the store as your mom left for weeks on end now. You have no strength and you’ve been postponing it for days, but now it’s not just food that you don’t have anymore, it’s also the essentials such as toilet paper, paper towel… You can’t postpone anymore. You drag your tired body out of you bed, you push the wastes under your bed. You sit at your dressing table and put your tangled, dirty hair in a bun. You then go to your dresser and look for clean sweatpants as well as a clean t-shirt and hoodie. You look at yourself in the mirror and is disgusted by what you see, but you can’t bring yourself to make yourself more presentable. You take your bag, go down the stairs and leave your house. As soon as you leave your house, a wave of anxiety sweeps over you. You force yourself to put one foot in front of the other and walk towards your mom’s car. You open the door and sit on the driver’s seat. You wait a few minutes before putting the key into the ignition and starting the car. You slowly drive to the closest grocery store in Hawkins. You park and stop the car and stay sat in your car. You rest your head on the headrest and close your eyes. You take a deep inhale before getting out of the car. You then go into the store and start panicking. They aren’t even a lot of customers. You take a cart and start navigating in the store. You put pasta, tomato sauce, rice, cans of food in the cart.

Then you go to the toiletries aisle. You put some shampoo and toothpaste in your cart, even though you don’t have the strength to take care of yourself. As soon as you put the toothpaste in the cart your breathing starts becoming shallow, you can’t hold yourself straight, so you sit on the ground, next to your cart. One of your classmates also known as the fellow “Freak” from Hawkins High is passing by the aisle at that same time. He slowly approaches you and then crouches down next to you, saying your name softly. When you don’t react, he gently puts his hand on your shoulder. At the contact, you flinch.

“Hey, hey, hey I’m not here to hurt you” Eddie says, putting his hands in surrender. When you don’t answer Eddie keep going “It’s Eddie Munson, we used to go to high school together.” When you nod, Eddie takes it as his cue to get up and then crouch down in front of you. He puts his hand on your knee and when you don’t flinch, he starts rubbing circles. He waits for you to speak, giving you as much time as you need. Eddie’s physical touch helps you calming down a little and even though your breathing is shallow you manage to say, “I’m sorry”.

“Hey, none of that, you have nothing to be sorry for. Can you tell me what happened?” Eddie gently tells you.

Your breathing is still shallow, and you can feel a pain in your chest, you grab Eddie’s arm with your hand and say “I… I can’t breathe… Eddie… I can’t breathe…”

Eddie lets you grab his arms and keeps rubbing circles on your knee. “Hey, hey it’s okay… It’s okay darling, you are having a panic attack. You’re not dying, everything is fine.” Eddie tells you in a calming tone, far away from the loud personality everyone knows him for.

Tears start running down your cheeks and your breathing doesn’t calm down. Eddie takes your hand in put it on his chest. “Hey darling, follow my breathing, okay?”

You keep your hand on Eddie’s torso and start following his breathing. It takes you a while to match Eddie’s breathing, but once you do, you start calming down.

Once you’re calm enough Eddie helps you up and guide you to your cart. Instead of just leaving you, Eddie starts taking the cart for you and nonchalantly says. “Where to next?”. You look at Eddie baffled.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m not gonna let you finish your shopping on your own after the panic attack you just had!” Eddie answers, pushing your cart through the aisle.

“I’m going to check out” You answer, looking at your feet, ashamed of the fact that you bothered Eddie when all he was going to do was grocery shopping.

Eddie looks at your cart and vehemently shakes his head. “Nope. I’m not gonna let you go home with only canned food.”

“’m not a good cook” you answer to Eddie.

“Love, I can see you’re not in a good mental headspace at the moment, and that’s why, the humble Dungeon Master that I am, cannot let you eat only canned goods, and that’s also why I’m going to offer my services, for free of course!” Eddie tells you.

“Oh no, no I don’t want to be a bother, you don’t have to do that” you answer, embarrassed.

“I don’t have to, I want to. I know what it is to feel down and lonely, trust me. I want to be there for you.” Eddie earnestly tells you.

“Thank you, I guess?” You answer.

Eddie drives the cart through the aisles and start buying some fresh food. “’Kay, I’m not a good cook at all but I’m gonna try. Can’t let a pretty one like you starve.” Eddie says right before stopping in his tracks. “You don’t have any allergies, do you?” Eddie asks.

You shake your head no, really baffled by what is happening right now. When Robin stopped trying to reach out, you thought you were doomed to be alone forever and now Eddie arrives and makes you feel wanted. He doesn’t seem forced to spend time with you.

“Great!” Eddie says. “Let me grab ingredients to make the infamous Munson homemade Mac N Cheese! You like Mac N Cheese?” Eddie asks in his excitement.

“Mmh” you answer.

“You’re not really talkative, are you?” Eddie asks while putting butter in the cart.

“I’m sorry…” You say while looking at the ground.

“No, no Sweetheart don’t be! That’s not why I said that. Can I tell you a secret?” Eddie asks trying to make conversation without forcing you to talk too much.

“Go ahead” you answer, curious of what Eddie might tell you.

“You’re one of the only persons who didn’t run away when I approached you. Ya know I have a pretty bad reputation.” Eddie tells you, really happy that someone let him in. Yes, Eddie helps you, but by accepting his presence, you help him too.

“I’m sorry people don’t see past your looks Eddie. I know you’re not a Freak.” You answer.

Eddie is really moved by what you’re telling him. It is the most you spoke to him since he found you panicking and the fact that you decided to speak more to reassure him warms Eddie’s heart.

“Eh! That’s fine. I’m used to it” Eddie tells you. “But to be honest, when you flinched, I thought it was because it was me.”

You shake your head. “No, it wasn’t Eddie… I’m sorry I made you feel like this. I was just surprised.”

“Hey, I understood that later... I didn’t want to make you feel bad.” Eddie says reassuringly.

“Thank you so much Eddie… for what you’re doing for me.” You shyly tell Eddie.

Eddie waves his hand as if it was nothing. “Don’t worry about it Sweetheart. As I already said, it isn’t a bother.”

Eddie and you finish grocery shopping while he tells you all about his last D&D campaign. You drink his words, feeling grateful that Eddie feels confident enough to talk about his passion with you. You then checkout and Eddie helps you load the bags in your trunk, he closes it and goes around your car to open your door for you.

“Thank you, kind sir” you tell Eddie.

“I’ll follow you with my van, lead the way” Eddie tells you.

“You don’t have to… besides my house is a mess and…” you start panicking at the idea that Eddie is going to see the mess that is your house.

“I don’t care about that. I’m coming and you can’t change my mind” Eddie says while closing your car door. You then watch Eddie climb in his van and you start your car and start driving in your house’s direction.

You park your car in front of your house and Eddie parks his van next to your car. He helps you unload the grocery and you come into your house. You’re grateful that Eddie says nothing about the mess, instead he follows you into the kitchen and help you unpack the groceries. When you put everything on the kitchen table without putting it in the cupboard, Eddie starts putting the canned goods in cupboards, he put the fresh food in the fridge and while he puts everything away, he tells you.

“Hey Sweetheart, while I cook, you should go shower, ‘kay?”.

You nod and drag your tired body upstairs, to your bathroom. You start undressing and when you cross path with your reflection in the mirror, you realize how much of a mess you look. After looking at yourself in the mirrors for several long minutes, you drag your body in the shower. Firstly, you put your hair down. You start the shower and look at the water running along your body. You stop the water and start cleaning yourself. Then you shampoo the tangle mess on your head and get out of the shower. You put on clean pajamas, take your brush and go downstairs as to not let poor Eddie alone.

You sit on a kitchen stool and look at Eddie cooking his infamous Mac N Cheese. He starts talking to you about music. “And you know what darling, I’ll make a mixtape for you!” Eddie says, hoping it will lift your spirits. You nod and smile at Eddie’s words while trying to brush your tangled hair.

At some point, you feel Eddie taking the brush from your hand. He sits on a stool behind you and asks. “Can I?”.

“You don’t have to Eddie…” You tell him.

“Hey, I want to help you.” Eddie answers reassuringly.

Eddie delicately brushes your hair, careful of not hurting you. “You know, I’m used to brushing tangled hair. You can’t imagine how much my hair always gets tangled. And you know sometimes I’m too lazy to brush it and I have to brush tangled messes you can’t imagine.” Eddie tells you, trying to make you feel better.

“You have beautiful hair.” You tell Eddie earnestly. “Would you? Would you let me braid them?” you ask him.

Eddie shakes his head chuckling and surprised by what he is going to answer. “Knows that I never let anyone touch my hair…” you cut Eddie off.

“Oh I’m sorry… Eddie I didn’t mean to…” Eddie cuts you off.

“Hey Sweetheart, I’m not finished. But if it makes you happy, I’ll let you braid my hair.

Once Eddie is finished with brushing your hair, he plates the Mac N Cheese and brings it to you on the couch. You both eats with the TV on. Well the TV is on but none of you are watching it. You’re busier talking about movies and music.

For the first time in month, you finally feel like you are where you are meant to be. And even though only an afternoon with Eddie can’t heal your depression, you feel like you belong somewhere, you feel wanted and at the moment, you don’t want to disappear. And Eddie finally feels like he can be apologetically himself with someone. He doesn’t have to seem mean and scary, to be sarcastic or intimidating with you, because he knows you’ll never use his vulnerability against him.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson is a sweetheart #mutual healing #Spotify

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lavoixhumaine · 10 months ago

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by lavoixhumaine

bobby x athena

hearts in atrophy

Changes are coming to the Carter-Nash household as Bobby and Athena give themselves one last chance to have a baby but fate and a figure from Bobby’s past have other plans. (canon divergence au)

rating : E | status: active wip ( chapters 25/30 )

feral

Bobby goes off script and Athena isn't prepared for it.

rating : E | status: completed ( one-shot )

it’s me, hi.

Bobby Nash and his last lie.

rating : E | status : completed ( one shot ) | ( major character death )

bruise

After closing out a miserable shift, Athena just wants to sleep. Bobby lets her, of course.

rating : E | status : completed ( one shot )

brownies

Athena is baking in the kitchen, but Bobby has other ideas.

rating : E | status : completed ( one shot )

ledger

Bobby gets a call in the middle of the night.

rating : T | status : completed ( one shot )

awake

Bobby wakes up.

rating : M | status : completed ( one shot )

cataclysmic

Bobby and Athena share a moment on the cruise.

rating : E | status : completed ( one shot )

taste

Athena has a plan.

rating: E | status : completed ( one-shot )

solid ground

Things are a little different than how Bobby remembers things.

rating: T | status : currently unavailable

non-911 fics under the cut

the keeper’s irony

naomi x archer | private practice

What happened that night in Connecticut?

rating: E | status : completed ( one-shot )

last night on fifth

naomi x archer | private practice

What happens when they cross paths again in New York a few years after that night in Connecticut?

rating: E | status : completed ( one-shot )

roman candle in the wild

goo ryeon x park joong-gil | 내일 ( Tomorrow )

In different lifetimes—one story different from the other, but inevitability all the same.

rating: G | status : completed ( one-shot collection )

there as i flew, forgot all prayers of joining you

emily x aaron | criminal minds

Some years after leaving, he is presented with a choice.

rating: G | status : completed ( one-shot )

sea glass

emily x aaron | criminal minds

Two people coming together to lay their shared past to its final rest.

rating: M | status : completed

wonderwall

vera x silas | philip k dick’s electric dreams, “human is”

The Herricks remain free but there are unforeseen repercussions to their hard-won freedom.

rating: M | status : unfinished • discontinued

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selfinserttothestars · 6 months ago

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I apparently wrote this on July 4th of last year. It’s almost been a full year since I started playing Twisted Wonderland and that’s wild to me. I just live here now lmao anyway here’s wonderwall—

•

It was unusual for her not to leave her last class of the day without at least Deuce by her side but there was some important Heartslabyul meeting that he and Ace had to attend. They couldn’t be late and Chris was understanding of this. Riddle would have their heads if he was in a bad enough mood, and no one wanted to risk anymore of that. Jack had a different class than the trio for their last period, so Chris was walking on her own. The hallway wasn’t complete empty as there were students sprinkled around here and there minding their business, but it was much less crowded than it was throughout the day. Chris hummed a tune as she carried what had been dubbed “the bubble” on her back. It was just a cat carrier for Grim to sit in, but calling it “the bubble” was much funnier. Grim would normally complain about the bubble and just how humiliating it was for a “great mage” to be carried around in such a thing, but today he was quiet. Chris had to keep him awake until the final bell but once he was free to rest he didn’t hesitate. Grim slept peacefully to the muffled sounds of Chris’s tune and the gentle sway of her paces. It was nice for both of them. Chris was slow to walk down a set of stairs so not to disturb the sleepy creature and jostle him awake, but each step made her lag behind most of her schoolmates. Eventually everyone seemed far enough away that she felt safe enough to bring her humming to quiet singing. Someone would have to be fairly close to hear her words.

”Cruel and cold like winds on the sea,

Will you ever return to me?”

Since her latest Crowley-assigned-odd-job regarding the Housewarden of the Octavinelle Dorm, she’d been recalling ocean related songs. Having been in the ocean for a while had really brought out her inner siren… or something. She couldn’t recall how she knew the handful of shanties that she did, but there was really no point in fretting about it. They sounded nice, so why not sing them when given the chance.

“Over waves and deep in the blue,

I will give up my heart for you.”

Chris turned the corner without looking. It had already become muscle memory for her, so she hardly had to check where she was going. She knew her way out of the school and to her dorm. It was almost mindless at this point. So much so that she hardly noticed her own footsteps.

Or anyone else’s.

”Come my love, be one with the sea.

Rule with me for eternity.”

Suddenly the song, along with her steps were briskly put to a halt. She’d bumped into someone when her guard was down but quickly snapped back to reality, stumbling back in the process.

“Sorry! I’m sor—“

She looked up to see an all too familiar figure turn to look at her.

Floyd.

“Was that you, shrimpy?” He mused, a smile spreading across his face. He laughed as his twin, only a few steps ahead of him, turned to see what had just happened.

Jade.

Both of them.

“Are you two alright?” The other boy asked, stepping back to be as uncomfortably close to Chris as his brother. She felt as though she had rapidly shrunk. There was no ill will between them, but Chris couldn’t shake the feeling of danger she felt whenever they approached. This time she was alone. No one could save her.

“Did you hear shrimpy?” Floyd asked, turning to his brother. “He was singing!”

“That was him?” Jade asked, bemused by the idea.

Chris didn’t dare make a sound.

“Yeah! Maybe Azul shoulda had him give his voice as collateral instead of the dorm when they made that contract.” Floyd laughed at his own joke, but this only reinforced the fear that was already brewing inside of Chris. Jade finally turned his attention to her.

Oh no.

“What my brother means to say is: you have a lovely voice.” He began. “Besides, we’d have no practical use for it.”

Not as reassuring as he might have thought, but there wasn’t much that either of them could say that could convince Chris not to run at the first chance she’d get.

“But you heard him right?” Floyd said, getting his brother’s attention again. “He almost sounded like a—“

Somewhere a pair of lightbulbs flickered on, illuminating what was once hidden.

Girl. Chris sounded like a girl.

The duo looked back at Chris only to see that she was already darting back around the corner she came from. They could hear Grim’s muffled shouting from his bubble, as he was definitely awake now. She was a good distance away by the time the two wordlessly agreed to go after her. They had so many questions now, and there was always a bit of fun to a chase, right?

“Wait up!”

“Come back!”

•

Also for anyone who’s wondering, this is the bubble:

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terapsina · 8 months ago

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Vote for the GREATEST MOST EFFECTIVE USE OF A SONG IN A TV SERIES THAT INSPIRED...

✨ E M O T I O N S ! ✨

Scenes in question: Angel 5x15, Warehouse 13 3x11, 12 Monkeys 4x11, Bones 3x14, Glee 3x06, Buffy 6x08, Lucifer 4x09, Shadowhunters 1x12, The Tomorrow People 1x12, The Magicians 3x09, The Magicians 4x10, The Magicians 4x13.

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 9 months ago

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NSFT Alphabet: Alva Lorenz

More wonderwall! lol this for @vaecci and written with the help of @turbulentscrawl

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Alva seems like the type to be good at aftercare. Checking on you, rubbing parts you point out are sore, he also allows you to touch him if you need that part of aftercare to focus yourself (it is also why he is touching you and talking you through it too)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His mind, until you say what physically he likes about himself. He would then say hands (privately you say his mouth wink). He likes your hair, as texture and stim for him. This goes for your nails and hands.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He does not hate it per se but he is quick to clean it up and would cum on you on easy spots like the stomach or back.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It is not a dirty secret but he would like to have a child with you. Not a breeding kink but just something a man of his age and time would want his partner.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

The man was married so he would know what to do.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

You on your back uwu

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Serious

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not much hair, and if there is hair it is very well groomed

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

He is enjoying himself

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t have a high enough sex drive to get him going

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He is not very kinky tbh and given both a man of his time and him only having a high libido, I don't think he explored much. You can offer some things tho! Just understand if he not going to choke you during sex. I agree with him being the type to like seeing you dressed up and know what is underneath all of that too.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His room or yours, the man is private

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Alva has low libido but it does not mean some things do not ‘spark’ the mood sort of speak.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Impact play

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

The man is amazing, too good, you gonna be lying on his desk pretty sure you unlocked the secrets of the universe

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I think he can be fast as he gets close but I do not think he would go straight to fast and rough. He is slow and sensual, enjoying the moment type

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

No quickies, again he is enjoying the moment

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

You gonna have to bring it up to him tbh

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He can push two rounds tops (great foreplay so don't worry)

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does enjoy toys and would use a remote-controlled vibrator on you in the privacy of his room while he works. Also, the use of toys is encouraged if you have a high sex drive, he can’t keep up and would encourage you to use those (of course he will not just toss that on you, this is spoken about before anything sexual happens between you both).

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can tease especially when you hand over control of the vibrator

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Quite but breathy

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Uses electrical stimulation

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He satisfying

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Low sex drive

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He fall asleep with you

#idv #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv x you #alva lorenz x reader #alva lorenz #identity v hermit #idv hermit #hermit x reader #hermit x you

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spacey-llama · 5 months ago

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RIGHT ABOUT NOW! THE rockafeller skank lore BROTHER! CHECK IT OUT NOW! THE rockafeller skank lore BROTHER! (requested by @peter-griffin-mpreg-the-second)

I actually actively am a fan of this guy he is one of my (many) Just Dance blorbos. He’s so! Special to me! ALSO, this one is definitely more like a smattering of headcanons than like... a consistent lore thing for him.

Preface (mostly for the person who requested him): As a fellow Rockafeller Skank fan, I’ve seen your posts and your headcanons are super awesome and cool (I love to see people thinking different thoughts about the same character, it’s so fun)! Mine are. Way different! I came up with a lot of this months ago! If you don’t like them that is so okay and valid :)

So! This is DJ Rock-A-Fella AKA Rocky! He's a dorky highschooler that DJs in his free time. Also, he goes to Woodcrown High School in Dancity. Originally, though, he's from Cyberfunk :)

If anyone's throwing a house party, you just KNOW he's going to show up with all his equipment and be like "Hi, what's up, this music sucks, I'm plugging my stuff in."

He's like one of those guys that has to play a guitar at every party, except instead of playing "Wonderwall," he's making a mashup of "It's Raining Men" and "Holding Out For A Hero." No one expects it to be good, but he's amazing. It's his passion!

Currently, Rocky's dating D.A.N.C.E (who I call Julie). They've been together since middle school. They did one slow dance together on a whim at a school dance (it was kind of awkward) and Julie asked, "Hey, do you wanna, like, date?"

And he went, "Sure."

And they've been together ever since. She's a cheerleader! I imagine they go on little arcade dates and she absolutely DESTROYS him at like... Mortal Kombat.

I don't know! To me, he's just this little nerd with really good music taste.

Bonus headcanons!

He collects TokiDoki Unicornos! Rocky and Julie have matching Unicorno keychains :)

He owns at least three Domo t-shirts.

Julie's been trying to teach him how to rollerblade, and it hasn't been going well.

Under that beanie is a buzz cut (and fun fact, in his map you can briefly see that his hair is blue!)

But yeah! That's kind of what I have for him? I adore him so much.

EXTRA BONUS! Because you caught me on a character I really loooove, here's a playlist I made for him forever ago :D

#just dance #spaceys personal jd lore bible #just dance 2 #jd2 #my favorite part of the map is when he briefly takes his headphones off in the freestyle part #the way he pauses for a moment before taking them off scratches my brain? idk

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giggly-squiggily · 1 year ago

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I'm jumping from fandom to fandom this weekend like it's a game of hopscotch!

Anyway here's Wonderwall (Shin Soukoku)

@intheticklecloset >:3

CW: Foot tickles

Atsushi really should delete TikTok.

"You got a friend in me," He mouthed as he barrel rolled over to where Akutagawa sat, lost in his book. "You got a friend in me." He tucked his hand under his shirt, popping the lid of his sharpie off as quietly as possible- all while watching his boyfriend from the corner of his eye.

No reaction. Proceed as planned.

"When the road looks rough ahead," Atsushi army crawled closer, sharpie pointed as he reached out, gently grasping the other's ankle. "And you're miles and miles from your nice bed, you just remember what your old pal said."

He was wearing socks, but Atsushi didn't mind. If anything, it might spare him a painful death.

"Boy, you've got a friend in me." He let himself whisper the last few words as he pressed the sharpie into Akutagawa's foot. "Yeah you got a friend in me."

He managed to get one stroke.

"GAH!" The brunette spasmed, book flapping out of his hands and bookmark skittering across the table. "Weretiger, what the hell are you- AH!"

"Hold still!" Atsushi grunted, pulling Akutagawa's leg into an armlock as he scribbled in a massive "A" "It's gonna look all crooked!"

"What the hehehehell are you going on about- Stahhahap that!" Akutagawa tried to sound ferocious, but reluctant giggles bubbled up his lips, killing any staged anger he felt. He tried to pull his foot away, but the angle plus Atsushi's death grip on his leg made it near impossible. "I'll kihihihill you!"

"Uh-huh. Sure. You've said that how many times since we started dating?" Atsushi giggled, starting the "T" in his name. Yes the trend was supposed to say "Andy" but Akutagawa was his. He wasn't giving him to this Andy kid! "You're awfully giggly for someone so murderous right now- what's up?"

Akutagawa clamped his mouth shut, glaring as best he could into Atsushi's back. He was gonna kill him- oh he was gonna skin that damn tiger alive-

"Wereti-Eehehehehehhehahahaha!" So much for murdering him. Atsushi was currently scratching the marker repeatedly along his foot for the "S", the sock proving to be quite the challenge. "Cuuhuuhuhuht thahahhat ohoohohohohut! Gehahahhahaha stahahhahap!"

"Oo, are you ticklish?" Atsushi grinned, something devilishly knowing in that smile. "Toys don't laugh, Ryu~"

Akutagawa once again tried to clamp his mouth shut, but the constant scratching of that damn sharpie. "Rahahhahashoohohohmon!"

Nothing came.

"Didn't you leave your coat on the couch?" Atsushi reminded. Son of a-

"Ahehahahhahaha! Dehhehehehvil! Yohoohohohu dahahahahmn dehehehehvil!" Any efforts to grab the weretiger and yank him off failed immediately; each swish and scratch of his sharpie sent a new wave of ticklishness up his leg, spreading through his nervous system like a fever. He never felt so defenseless in his life! "Ahhahahhare you ahahahhamost dohoohohohne?"

"Nope! Halfway there!"

"Fohohohohoor gohoohohohd's sahhahake! It's sehehehehven leheheheht-EHEHEHEH!" The sharpie found a particularly bad spot along the base of his toes, earning an embarrassing squeak noise. "CHAHAHAN'T YOU SPEHEHEHELL?"

"Oi! Keep that up and I'll write my last name on your other foot! And that's-" Atsushi paused briefly, counting off his fingers. "...8 letters!"

"Yohoohohu had to coohount?"

"...." Atsushi shot him a side eye before wiggling a singer finger against the bad spot. Akutagawa squawked, nearly hitting his head on the coffee table.

"IHIHIHIM SOHOHOOHRRY! IHIHIHM SAHAHHAHARY STAHHAHAHP!" He pleaded, cheeks dusting a pretty shade of red and tears dotting his eyes. "AHAHAHTSUSHI!"

"Heh, okay okay." The weretiger released him, dropping his foot and recapping his marker with a proud nod. "Now everyone will know you're mine!"

"Ehehe..hehehe...ahahahs if thehehy doohohon't already..." Akutagawa sat up some, eyeing the shaky handwritten "Atsushi" along his socked foot. "You could have just asked."

Atsushi raised an eyebrow. Akutagawa flushed, wide eyed.

"The sock! For the sock! You could have asked for the sock- not the ti- the torture!" He quickened his reply, sinking back further with a glare as Atsushi started to grin once more. "It probably would have came out cleaner that way."

"Eh. This was more fun." Atsushi smiled, then suddenly looked towards the front door, eyes widening. "Oh my god."

"What is it?" Akutagawa followed his gaze, finding nothing.

"Andy's coming!" The weretiger exclaimed before tossing himself onto Akutagawa, knocking them both into the ground and going limp.

"W-Weretiger!" The brunette griped, halfheartedly shoving him off as he realized it was yet another joke. "Get off!"

No response came, only a muffled fit of giggles from the other. Akutagawa rolled his eyes as he flicked his boyfriend's messy bangs, getting comfortable. "You're lucky I'm...fond of you, weretiger. Even when you decide to replicate that clock app thing."

"Love you too, Ryu." Came a muffed reply, softening the other completely.

Thanks for reading!

#BSD #shin soukoku #atsushi nakajima #akutagawa ryuunosuke #tickle #tickle dabble #I was inspired akjrkejakjrejakr #I had a desire for lee!Aku and I ran with it #here you go :D #Now I must go work on other fics lols #and hit the hay #I'm sleepy #silly things happen when I'm brainrotting and sleepy #tw: foot tickles

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