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stargirlfics · 9 months ago

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So Much Goddamn Talkin’

Joel Miller x Black F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes Joel has to quiet the noise in your head. Luckily he’s quite good at that.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, post outbreak—Jackson era, mutual pining, friends to lovers vibe, established relationship, some mentions of anxiety, feelings and fluff, competency kink, soft dom!joel vibes, smut: oral (both receiving), fingering, soft intense PiV, unprotected sex, praise kink, daddy kink, come marking

*reader is written and described as black but anyone is welcome and encouraged to read!

Word Count: 6k

Currently obsessed with the thought of older, domestic Joel in a relationship and couldn’t stop myself from getting carried away! Enjoy!

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d ever spoken to Joel.

On the contrary, what had started as a timid friendship became something else entirely with one spontaneous kiss that only the stars bore witness to that night.

A silly dream of romance had landed right in your lap despite the crumbling of the old world behind you, taking everything with it and yet they took your breath away constantly, like a whirlwind, two grounding anchors were now tethered to your heart and their names were Joel and Ellie.

So why were you so nervous?

Sighing softly, you decided to blame it on the watchful glances Joel was giving you from across the yard, distracting you from the book you were reading. Eye contact with him could feel like the most searing heat, spreading like wildfire and at the same time the deepest depths of comfort.

Not always being a man of many words, the things he could express with a simple look or the weight of a hand fascinated you, made you fall so dangerously hard and with a certainty you’d never felt before.

Therefore you reasoned it simply couldn’t be your fault for being distracted and wanting him so much right now. Not when he made you feel this way without even having to try very hard.

You just needed to take a moment to soak it all in, a blooming hope carried in on the breeze now that it was the beginning of spring in Jackson, the wildflowers and planted seeds starting to sprout, and the soil and your own souls teeming with life after so long spent just surviving. Now there was space for healing.

Space for you to sit in the rocking chair Joel had worked on for months as a birthday present to you, or watch him get around to all the house projects (because once a contractor always a contractor) and strum out the prettiest chords on his guitar late in the evenings out on the porch.

This felt more like living and you never wasted a moment to covet it.

“You’re doing an awful lot of staring, Miller.” You looked up from the same page for the fifth time to catch him already looking your way.

He blinked and put another nail into the wood post he was working on.

“Hm, well damn right I am when you look the way you do. Now if I told you it’s been at least ten minutes since you’ve turned a page in that book you just might have to admit you’ve been starin’ too.”

There was that little smirk you knew so well, dancing on his lips as if he knew just how much it would drive you crazy, the confirmation that you hadn’t been subtle in the slightest either.

“Well, you’re out here giving me a show.” You make a point to turn to the next page then, looking away before he could throw you a look at the sass in your tone.

He was right of course but what he didn’t know was that reading had started all this to begin with.

The tattered novel had been a surprise find on a patrol one day and came with an unexpected eroticism, bits of dialogue and tantalizing imagery on the page you were stuck on making your mind wander and wonder.

It’s why you felt a little nervous, caught off guard, suddenly wishing you were in bed and underneath him.

He flashes his teeth at you, that smirk widening into a smile at your reply, his attention returning to the tools in his hands but your own continued to linger. Remembering.

A few nights before in particular, when he was fucking into you so deep you had to bite the sheets to keep your moans down. You could still picture the definition of his arms as they cradled you and kept the headboard from colliding into the wall at the same time.

Or how good you knew it felt when his broad palms swat across your ass, never failing to make you yield to him with such eagerness.

You wished you could have your hands on him now, petting, feeling, showing him how much he was desired and cared for, how much you wanted to be filled by him, stretched out and aching with nothing but his name in your mind and on the tip of your tongue for hours.

Those stray thoughts had you turning back a page, leaning into the slow burning fire lit underneath you.

Still unsure of how to initiate these desires, you didn’t want to distract him from something he’d been trying to get around to doing for awhile and at the same time felt a thrill at the idea of tugging him away, leading him to bed.

With some hesitation you decided to bide your time for a bit longer, getting caught up in words that made you squirm imagining Joel doing and saying them.

God, you weren’t sure how much more of this you could keep up, feeling the slick pooling of arousal between your thighs, the way you wanted to grind against nothing already.

Joel finished repairing the post in no time and moved on to patch up a hole in the wall of the old shed, unaware of your internal dilemma.

Eventually he gathered up his tools and stored them away, told you he was gonna head in and wash up but that you should keep relaxing out here for as long as you wanted and he’d get started on preparing things for dinner later.

He left you with a kiss to your temple and the lingering familiarity of his touch. Handsome and sweet, he was going to be the death of you.

Your mind felt too restless to keep sitting but you took him up on the suggestion just for awhile longer, trying to find the right way to move things in the direction you wanted. Family dinner wasn’t for another four hours and Ellie would be here a bit early but there was still time and you wanted to make the most of it.

So you finished off another chapter and finally closed the novel, ushered inside with the echo of birdsongs and the steady thumping of your heart in your ribs.

–

Joel had been so sure you hadn’t noticed his repeated stares as much as he’d noticed yours, bowing his head under the warm spray of the shower he could only think of how pretty you looked sitting there while he worked, fond of the fact that you liked to be next to him even if he was occupied.

At first he couldn’t wrap his head around it and was almost too unnerved and bewildered by the fact that you took such an interest.

Not at all used to someone touching him or looking at him like he was their entire world but that’s the only way you looked at him and as much as he had tried to be measured, tried not to get attached, he had come around to the idea of a relationship again.

Loving people was frightening, something he felt he’d lost the ability to do properly after all these years, all the blood staining his hands and his conscience.

He had lost so much, seen too much death and feared he would only bring ruin, that he would lose her too, until you came along and turned everything he thought he knew on its head.

Oh what secrets and stories of loss he had told you in the quiet of night, when old nightmares and new guilts collided and kept him from sleeping though that was much less these days now that you slept by his side every night.

It had been a long time since he’d shared his bed and now it made him smile thinking of how natural it felt to wake up next to you, how easy it was to be around you, in the quiet moments he could see how the foundations you’d both built together had been made solid and steadfast over time.

Silly to think how he fretted over ruining his friendship with you all that time ago, the way everyone was sick of him in the days leading up to when he would finally ask if you were interested because they all knew he had nothing to worry about and those worries in his head were swiftly put to rest when you tugged at his shirt to pull him closer and asked what had taken him so long.

He’d never forget that moment.

Joel thought then that this was the moment he knew but quickly learned there would actually be a collection of moments–several times a day–that would remind him just how hooked on you he really was.

Like the times he showed his age and your sweet giggles and clever retorts always followed soon after, or how much he’s come to love the summertime because your brown skin basked in the sunlight is like art to him and he relishes every chance he gets to see you exactly as you are.

You brought a fullness and meaning to life here, encouraging him to slow down, to breathe. Taking care of one another made him stronger, nourished in ways he didn’t think were possible.

“Honey.”

He grits the word out like he’s trying to call you up here, reminded of how lucky he felt to have you, to be so connected.

Watching you walk around batting your eyes acting like you don’t know that it’s the pretty, round edges of your nose, the smile lines, the plush of your hips and that glowing thing inside you beating in your chest that drives him crazy.

Simply put, he was impressed by you. Constantly. You could handle yourself, skilled in your own right, already handy with weapons long before he was in your life and even more proficient now, deadly, with the things he’d taught you since.

You were resourceful and calm in tricky situations or when quick medical training was needed and yet none of the carnage of infected and worse terrors ever changed the soft way you tended to people, almost like you couldn’t help but give a little extra love.

And you had certainly spared many an ounce of that love for him; he’d forgotten how good it felt to smile this much over someone, can’t remember the last time he felt this way and definitely can’t remember the last time he’s seen his Ellie look at someone with such admiration either.

Everything about you captured his attention and he was grateful to be able to live some sort of life again after so much heartache, after believing he could never have these kinds of things for himself.

Those hands of his could scorch the Earth but you made him understand they could build things too, could show love and give pleasure just as well and just as fiercely.

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was doing a good job of it.

All he knew was that he never wanted to let you go and that was enough for him.

–

When you venture into the bedroom you find him getting dressed, hair tousled from being towel dried, another wave of aching bloomed in your core as you thank yourself for having nudged him into letting it grow out a bit during the colder months.

He looked so handsome doing nothing at all in particular you were sure you’d implode if you didn’t just come out with it, you just hope he wouldn’t mind doing some undressing again.

“Hey, honey.”

His voice was low and gentle, the familiar pet name in his usual smooth rasp made you stride forward, sending you surging into his arms so that you were squished against his chest. He tilted his head at you just slightly in question before you were pressing your lips to his.

Your mouths met so tenderly at first, fingertips bursting with a nervous energy as they reached for his shirt, grasping needily as you lost yourself in the slow ease of the way he kissed you back.

But a little spark of anxiety makes you tense, overthinking the kiss, feeling a little silly for just how turned on you were, how much he could see it written all over you, dripping quite literally in desperation even if you tried to reason with yourself that you knew there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

“J-Joel…shit,” you whined and huffed through sloppy kisses, slowly finding yourself being walked backwards and held firm against the closest wall, “Oh…we don’t have to do this if-”

“The hell are you goin’ on about?” Joel grumbled against the column of your neck and all ability to articulate went out the window.

Rationally you knew it was a pretty good indication he wasn’t bothered by the spontaneity from the way those strong hands of his were already underneath your shirt, pinching almost in the haste to grip your flesh but you were already overthinking and it held persistent.

“Just…if you’re tired, I understand. We can wait till tonight. I don’t want you to feel obligated.” Your words were huffed out in nervous gasps, trying to will your knees not buckle when his scruff teased a swipe across your jaw.

Joel pulled back then so you’d have to look at him, knowing the anxious flit of your lashes well.

He knew what to watch for, patient when you needed reassurance that you were free to run wild with your desires, that he was never tired of having you bare and wrapped around him at any hour of the day but this was of no consequence, he’d make sure you knew where he stood.

Shaking his head, he doesn’t give you more than a moment to suck in a breath before his hands leave your waist to hold your face.

“So much goddamn talkin’, sweetheart,” the words are a heavy growl against your lips in between heavier kisses, “Think I need to remind you of some things and put those thoughts out of your mind, yeah?”

Your whole body felt hot, flushed with desire and aching for whatever he was going to do to remind you, nodding before your tongue could catch up with your agreeing thoughts.

“Let me show you.” Joel caged you in against the wall, broad shoulders blocking everything else out.

The steady rise and fall of his chest became your focal point and new arousal sparked at his attentiveness, so easily able to soothe, to make you unravel for him.

“Please, I want you so much.” Your softly sighed plea turned into a whine when you were crushed to his chest again and this time there were no reservations to the embrace.

He was so good at this, making you burn for him so often you wondered sometimes how you were able to get anything done.

Hungry fingers pushed the collar of his flannel back, jeans already unbuttoned for your wandering attention to latch onto and he encouraged it with a push of his hips against yours.

It’s an easy movement, dropping to your knees like you’ve done a hundred times before to see how just a simple kiss already had him stiff and straining against denim, teasing the kind of thickness you so badly wanted to fill your throat with.

Your mouth watered, fingers outstretched to wrap around hot skin the moment his cock was free, unable to stop yourself now. Joel’s rough sigh following the steady pump of your hands made you glance up, meeting the intensity of his gaze and you held it there for a moment before your tongue was tasting him.

“Look at you...already have it in your mouth like the quick learner you are,” He hissed through his teeth and you could feel where he throbs against the hollow of your cheek.

Pride swells in your chest from the praise, knowing the tone of his voice meant the restrained edge of patience from letting you tease him back was slipping.

You could feel it in the flex of muscle underneath your hands where they’re braced on his thighs and you hoped he was proud watching your lips stretch around him, head bobbing nice and easy the way you know he liked it.

You’re unconcerned with being neat about it, slicking him up with your mouth and still trying to take him deeper, trying to take all of him in fact.

You liked to flirt with dreams of your nose being pressed snug against Joel’s pelvis, wanted to feel him through your entire chest even if burned because there was sweetness in being deprived of oxygen like that. Call it an unwavering trust.

You gave in to the feeling and kept your eyes focused upwards on him, trying to relax your jaw despite all the anticipation, happy to let him take control.

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Stay just like that.”

Listening is hardly even a thought when you’ve hung onto his every word, every movement, not minding the strain in your jaw as he rocked his hips into the wet heat of your mouth. Tongue swirling over his shaft, the thick head of him, desperate to earn it, to make him curse and growl out your name.

The pressure of his fingers against your jaw and then the back of your head had you moaning, trying to speak while he fucks your mouth.

“P-please, make me take it.” Your heart lept with each languid thrust of his hips sliding deep so he could feel the softening of your throat.

He’d give you whatever you asked for when you whimpered like that.

Firm and sweet was his grip, raspy grunts and cursed out praises that flowed from his mouth even sweeter to your ears as your tongue slid over the soft, sensitive head of his cock and back down the length of him.

You’re insatiable and any anxious thoughts still rattling around in your mind were quickly fading, replaced with his touch, his smell, his taste. The salty smear on your taste buds had you pressing your thighs together, craving relief.

“Good girl, yeah that’s it. Startin’ to understand now, sweetheart?”

Your head tipped forward and the only response you could give was a heady moan, doing your best to nod knowing how much he’d like seeing that, the tears already welling along your lashes from the effort but you didn’t mind.

Knowing you made him tip his head back, a heavy palm braced against the wall above your head while he grunted out curses and filthier praise made you feel a dozen more times ravenous, encouraging him to keep going with sloppy, wet whimpers that were barely held back from your kiss swollen lips, stretched over every thick inch of him you could take.

“Love watching you choke on it, honey. Fuck that's good, show me how much you can fit.”

The sight of him is something you hoped to never forget, searching for and finding the slight snarl of his lips when the tip hits the back of your mouth and the flex of his biceps when you slide your tongue around to lick the underside of him.

Joel could barely hold himself back, the urge to bury himself in your throat almost overwhelming but he wanted more than that, he wanted to reward you for listening so well, for how much you make him feel.

It had been building all day and he knew you had to feel it too. He was loath to pull you off his cock, an ache through his chest at your desperate cries from the loss of contact but he was quick to remedy that with a searing kiss.

You melt and are grateful your knees are already on the floor when your tongue meets his. It was so messy, hungry and neither of you cared.

“Get on the bed. Go on, darlin’.” Joel’s voice sounded like warm syrup, covering you in adoring instruction, taking you and leading you where he knows is best.

And god do you love when he was in this mood, nothing but a filthy edge to his affections.

So you complied, ignoring the twinge in your tummy as you moved to the bed, sprawling out across sheets that smell like the both of you.

He watches you get comfortable, loosening a few buttons and those jeans finally discarded on the floor before the distance is closed and he’s all over you.

Every touch and caress was intentional as he undresses like he’s unwrapping a present, greedy for all of you but so passionate, so easily able to steal your breath at the same time, slowing down the tempo now that your legs have fallen open and there’s nothing left covering you.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy…and she’s all mine.” Joel admires you for a moment, firm hands tickling your thighs while his thumbs circled the soft, sensitive junction of your thigh so close to where you wanted him most.

The praise has you sighing breathlessly, peeking down to see the way he was looking at where you glisten, a sureness to his features that made you feel safe all while the clench of his jaw sent goosebumps across your arms.

You want to echo that he’s right but he doesn’t let you have the chance, a broad palm sliding down over the hair covering your mound, tugging at it gently before two thick fingers are swirling over your folds.

Muscles jolting, you were rocking up into a touch that is so expert and familiar you are helpless against it.

“Joel, oh! That feels so good,” You’re panting, trying to catch your breath while your body responds to the tight circles he was rubbing against your clit.

“Yeah? ‘Can tell. You’re so slick, honey. Did suckin’ me off get you this worked up?”

Your nod is pure reflex, hips grinding against his movements needing to chase the pleasure that was slowly oozing its way into your system.

It’s only something he can do and he’s so steady, so thorough with you even as you squirm, those two fingers now stroking at your entrance eliciting sounds that sparked heat in your cheeks and spread down to your chest.

You want to be as connected to him as you can, almost pleading for him to sink inside you already just desperate to feel completely surrounded by him.

And Joel can’t seem to grasp enough of you under his hands, gone for the way you cling to him as he fits his middle finger inside, marveling at the way your walls take him in.

He would never get over your strangled little cry at being stretched around his knuckles.

“I asked a question, lemme hear you.” He spoke a little more loosely, his Texan drawl slightly heavier now.

“Yes, yes,” you’re remembering yourself after a moment, “Fuck, yes I love sucking your dick.”

The words are shameless, falling from your lips as a promise, a proclamation that you know he feels the weight of when he leans in to kiss you again, muffling your sounds while he slides a second finger in alongside the first that’s filling you so perfectly.

Any concept of time or day is somewhere in the background muted, far away and suddenly you know you’re right where you should be, right where you belong, no traces of anxious thoughts lurking any longer.

You could sink into these sensations now, enjoying how his kisses had moved to your neck exploring the sensitive spots and smiling against your skin when a new one is found because he loves feeling you clench around him when he does.

It’s a gift to Joel, being able to draw out this kind of bliss in you.

He wanted you to feel good, wanted to be the one to make your world shatter and then piece it back together again when you came down to the ground.

Your eyes rolled shut when he plunged deeper, the pads of his fingers massaging at your walls in tandem with what his mouth was doing between the valley of your chest and further down to where your stomach fluttered.

Somewhere in the haze of it all you realize his mouth was at your thighs, the white hot touch of his lips closing around a stretch of supple flesh bringing another wave of heat before he’s licking gently, bruising a mark into your skin that only he will know is there later.

“I could spend hours like this, you know that? Could have you makin’ such a pretty mess all over my hands, all over our bed…and I know you love when I do this.” Joel husks before he’s finally tasting you properly.

He starts at your clit, tongue flattened against you in anticipation of the inevitable flex of your legs, determined to keep you right where he wants and you’re already so far gone for him and this moment that your head tilts back against the pillows in a gasp.

You feel almost weightless as you succumb to the pleasure and how he presses his mouth into your pussy like he wants to devour it. You’re sure you’d let him swallow you whole if it kept feeling like this.

It’s not even a question really, you know you would, until you’re between sinew and bone and part of him forever.

The plunge and curl of his fingers combined with the flick of his tongue had you panting, heat skittering across your body while your hips circled on their own accord.

“More! Please, Joel!” It’s a chant and a sob all rolled in one and you don’t care how needy it sounds.

He keeps going, lapping at your sex greedily until you’re clenching down around his fingers and your toes are curling, crying out for him not to stop as you hurtle towards the cliff’s edge.

Skin dewy and alive, you decide that you don’t want to spare anything, not when he’s watching you as hungrily as he eats.

You give him all your sounds, all your pleas, handing him your body and your heart at once.

It’s amazing how it doesn’t take long for him to have you so close, right at the precipice, forgoing his own breaths to keep pace, to give you what your body is singing out for and when you finally let go, when your orgasm is finally coaxed from you he only presses his face into you further, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could in hopes of seeing that soft sweet look in your eyes afterwards.

“Attagirl, doin so well.” The words are a tether.

He’d take care of you and that’s perhaps what made it so easy to surrender yourself to the passion of the moment knowing it would linger long after you were both spent.

“Mmm you should see yourself right now,” Joel hummed, licking his lips while you attempted to catch your breath, “I always want you, don’t forget that yeah?”

The last part catches your attention through the curtain of bliss, a serious shift in his tone telling you that he meant every word; you had no reason to second guess yourself over your desires and he was making sure of that.

You nodded and sat up to reach for him, nevermind how you still trembled, your desire to be close to him was stronger than ever now.

“I need you, Joel! Please, I’ve been so good…” Your words tug at him, you can tell they do by the way he ruts his hips against the edge of the bed.

He crushed his mouth to yours before you could finish speaking, a much welcome relief, the burning flame inside you quelled for a moment.

“Sure have been, honey and I think good girls should be rewarded.” He nipped at your ear, stealing your breath with his words.

And even further when his flannel joined his jeans on the floor, climbing back onto the bed to follow the path of your body with his own, framing your limbs and wrapping you up in his embrace like you were made to fit against his chest.

Your legs fall open again to wrap around his waist as he settles some of his weight down against your hips, just giving you a taste, calling back memories and reminding you, funnily enough, of that novel you were reading earlier.

It felt like you were suddenly amongst the pages, chest heaving, your core tender and dripping as the man of your dreams was about to show you how much you’re his in every way.

Fairytales didn’t exist in this world but you felt like you were in one right now.

A giddy and timid smile spread across your face when Joel trailed warm hands down your body, catching on the bend of your elbow, wrapping around your ribcage to settle on the crest of your ass as he puts more of his weight down and uses his shoulders to nudge your legs apart and back towards your chest.

The air felt thicker but your breathing seemed to even out, everything in your body thrumming with energy and an intensity neither of you could ignore any longer.

Reaching down between your bodies you wrap a hand around where he’s thick and throbbing, guiding him closer with a soft smile, feeling how heavy he hangs in your hand, fingers pinching his skin when he rocks against your folds, the dirty sounds of his cock gliding through your stickiness.

Joel groans against your forehead, holding himself steady as your hips buck into his touch, the tip pressing against your entrance and finally, slowly, sinking inside.

Your moans are twined together in the quiet room. The stretch makes you keen, hands fumbling and grasping at strong shoulders, grateful he lets you have a moment to adjust.

But it’s not long before you’re squirming again, whining for him to go deeper, to fill you to the hilt and he made good on his promises to do exactly that.

He keeps your hips tilted up with the press of his palm underneath you, meeting little resistance the more he splits you open and it does something to him to see how much of a mess you are and he’s barely fucked you yet.

“You can do it, know you can…there you go.” Joel pulls back to give a shallow thrust, lips brushing your temple and a hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

The drag of his cock against your walls was everything, steady thrusts building up the tension coiling in your belly, fantasies from your novel melding with reality.

You felt like you were floating, your toes pointing when he changed the angle, brushing against a spot that had you crying out, ankles trying to lock around his torso.

Pressing heavier and faster with his hips however, your legs stay spread, the beginnings of a tremble rippling through your muscles now that he’s caught on.

His pace remained measured and deep, just the way you were begging for it, and he’s content to watch your brows pinch, your jaw slacken, content to hear every gasp of air and pretty sobs mixed in with your moans driving him crazy every time they slip from clenched teeth.

“Shit, I love watching you take me like this.” He cooed.

You can feel the heavy slap of his balls colliding with your ass when he pounds into you again and soon your hands slip from sweaty skin, scratching down his chest to pull at the sheets, so overwhelmed with feeling but never wanting it to stop.

“Daddy...Please, please keep going.”

You’re so caught up in the moment you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud, glassy eyes moving up from where you were trying to peek between your bodies to meet Joel’s careful gaze, only half registering how they widen for a moment.

He’s taken aback for just a second, almost questioning whether he heard it correctly but something’s been knocked loose within him now, his cock twitching from the reverence and adoration in your tone, bestowing him with a title he suddenly wanted to earn.

Joel was a grown man and had lived through many hells to be able to have you bare and underneath him like this, he reasoned he deserved to have a little fun in the bedroom especially when he hadn’t expected to be so affected.

“Ah so that’s what you’ve been reading in that book of yours. Just wanted Daddy to fuck you all day is that it, sweetheart? Yeah, I gotcha now.” He rasped low against the crook of your neck and started to fuck you harder.

His grip on you was less gentle but still just as passionate, the force of his thrusts stealing your ability to think properly. He wanted to make you say it again.

The burning in your cheeks only subsided a little at his acceptance, more heat flooding you from head to toe at being called out, wondering how he knew it was something you read in your novel, if it had been that obvious.

It didn’t matter now, you see where his dark eyes have narrowed, ready to make you come again with this newfound discovery.

So you try and be good for him while you moan and clench down on his length, your pussy swollen and aching but tingling for everything he could give you, “Yes, daddy! Just…oh! I couldn’t help it. Thank you, daddy!”

He knows you’re close, a familiar frenzy to your breathing, the slick wet sounds between your legs, it’s everything he dreams of and more, torn between watching your face as you come or watching the way his cock shines with your release.

With a few more strokes and the soft rubbing of his thumb against your clit you shatter, face pressing against the meat of his shoulder while you ride it out, feeling weightless in his embrace.

It makes you giggle when you can’t keep your head up any longer, neck lolling back against the pillow where he cradles your head in his hands, keeping you in place as he finds his own release swiftly after yours, pulling out to cover your puffy folds in hot ropes of his come.

You would never tire of being made a mess, even if you knew you’d be sore tomorrow, nothing quite ever beat the feeling of being fucked out like the way Joel could have you.

“Baby…” you’re breathless and bursting with emotion, “Thank you for that. Think I really needed it,” You laugh against his chest and sigh.

You’re almost too nervous still to look at him after your slip of the tongue but you know deep down there’s nothing you have to be worried about.

“Of course, honey. Anytime, and I mean that.”

–

You’re not sure how much time has passed, drifting in and out of a dreamy slumber still cradled against Joel, only now you realize you’ve been cleaned up and tucked under the covers but you don’t mind, you know you can simply lay here and soak it all in, he would take care of you.

Racing thoughts no longer buzz around in your head, all you can feel and see is Joel and you smile to yourself knowing the intimacy you just shared still lingered in your body, love etched in your fingertips where they’re laced in his hand against his stomach.

His lips press against your temple and you close your eyes again letting yourself be swept away with the sweet drawl of an “I love you.” in your ears and the gentle evening sun warming you both.

—

A/N: This was actually lowkey inspired by that scene where Joel is leading Ellie, Henry and Sam down the street after they come out of the tunnels and Joel just shakes his head and goes “so much goddamn talkin’.’ while looking like an annoyed father because they’re all being too loud…got very hung up on that bit of dialogue and could not let it go so here we are!

Also hope I added the daddy kink bit here in tastefully, it’s a fave of mine and I struggled a bit to think of how to incorporate it in a way that felt real for Joel so I only just dipped my toe in with it here but I hope you liked it! 👀

Thank you for reading <3

some no pressure tags! 💫 @eupheme @ozarkthedog @moreofem @tinydramatist @black-fairy3 @federalchickensoup @fluffyprettykitty @persona-enthusiast @moonstruksandco @ghotifishreads @communism-bitches

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x black reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x woc #amalia writes

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thelittleliars · 2 years ago

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Would it kill you to smile? At least once in a while?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Platonic) Wanda Maximoff x Reader (Former lovers; now platonic) Wanda Maximoff x Reader x Natasha Romanoff (platonic)

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts, angst -> fluff?

Words: 1.5K

Summary: Your girlfriend demanded the most difficult task from you. Natasha came to your rescue.

AN: Another one shot since I have not come any further with P.S. I Want You. It hurts me that I do not know what do to with Chapter 3. I just can't seem to get it going :( Anyways I hope you enjoy this little idea that I came up with a couple days ago. (The title are lyrics from the song 'under the weather' by CORPSE)

"Would it kill you to smile?" Your current girlfriend Jade snapped, the frustration and anger in her voice was clear. "I mean at least once in a while?! And especially in pictures!" Her words cute you deep, they broke you in a way that you didn't know existed. You felt angry, sad and betrayed by her. Depression was no joke and she knew what she was getting into from the start since you were nothing but an open book about your long battle with the chronic mental illness. All those nights she was there for you in the best possible way, in the darkest of your days she was the light - you anchor, so you honestly couldn't understand why she exploded like this.

"Yes." You stated. "Yes it would kill me." Your voice cracked, the pain she caused was obvious but she didn't care for some reason. But even if she did care in that situation, it wouldn't have made a difference. Her words were an unforgiving betrayal that you never thought would happen. "You of all people should know how awful my depression is. How could you even ask that of me?!"

"Because my friends thinks that you're miserable because of me!" She shouted again. Tears started to flow down your face.

"You could have just straight up told them about my depression! Fuck Jade, the entire world knows about my depression ever since I dated Wanda. It's not even a fucking secret that I had multiple suicide attempts while dating her and she never minded what people said about her because of that. She even encourage me to go with her to interviews and to openly talks about it. The awareness we brought on this topic is insane. It's not a tabu topic."

Before Jade could open her mouth to shout more cruel words at you, Natasha came out of the shadows and interrupted your conversation. "It's time for you to go Jade." The red head looked at you with deep concern in her eyes, knowing first hand that all of this is extremely triggering for you and she did not want you to spiral badly again. "Fuck off Romanoff, we're not done here!" That was a huge mistake - you thought. Nobody can ever fuck with Natasha Romanoff, not unless you're Yelena Belova or one of her 'girls'; meaning her extremely close friends that contains Wanda, Maria and you. "Out. Now." Natasha was calm but her voice was ice cold. Though her words wasn't meant for you, a cold shiver ran down you spine. You can only imagine how scary it was to be on the other side of her words.

"Fuck." Fear replaced the jealousy that ran through Jade's veins. Only when Natasha indicated of making a move on her, she ran away fast without ever looking back. Natasha turned to you with open arms, hugging you dearly to her chest. The feeling of her arms around you gave you the safeness to break down completely. Her hands gently rubbed up and down your back, it was her way to comfort you, no words needed to be said. After a while you finally stopped crying but the black widow still didn't remove herself from you. "Maybe the world really is better without me." It hurt her to hear those words, though you constantly had your up and downs, she believed you were in a good place before Jade blew up. Was she so wrong? Or was it all because of this triggering situation? "Dorogoy, I can tell you with certainty that my world definitely would not be better without you. It would be miserable but if you honestly feel like you can't live like this anymore, I don't have the right to tell you to stay. That would be cruel of me." Your hands that were around her tightened. "I just wanted you to know you're not alone and that the world is definitely not better without you. If you're still not sure then ask Wanda. She of all people knows how it feels like and appreciates you the most."

"Thank you for always being there for me Nat." She whispered a small 'always' before giving you a kiss on your forehead. The two of you stayed in each others arms for another 5 minutes. You then decided it was time for some space. She gave you the room but didn't leave you alone yet, afraid of your thoughts running wild. "Tell you what. We're gonna go to the movies to watch a film and then we'll to your boss about a leave since you need a break. I'll then show you a shield facility that could help get better, if you're up for it."

You shook your head. All you wanted to do was laying in bed and sleep. "I can't Natty. I'm just so exhausted." The other woman nodded. "I understand." She said with a sad smile. She was still determined to not leave you alone with your thoughts so she came with another idea. "What if we watch a movie in my room? Getting snacks and Wanda to join us? You even can fall asleep while we give you some cuddles."

Relief and appreciation was written all over your face. While you went to the kitchen for snacks, Natasha pulled out her phone and called Wanda, commanding the witches ass to her room. All three of you met in Natasha's room with Wanda being the last one to arrive. "I couldn't find my best fluffy blanket at first but here it is!" She proudly lifted up the white-blue striped fluffy blanket before throwing it into your face. "Thanks Wands. I brought you guys Sour Patch Kids, chips, mini pretzels, popcorn and your favorite sodas."

Natasha let out a mix of a groan and moan. "Way to make a girls knees weak.." The widow said as she made her way onto the bed. You snorted a bit too loud to your liking but also tried to ignore your little embarrassment. "That's not the only way to make girls knees weak." You had a suggestive look on your face which made Natasha blush. Wanda took that opportunity to tease you. "Oh my, who knew you still had it in you?"

You turned your head towards her as she was just getting onto the bed next to you. "I believe you're just too old to keeping up with me." At that, Natasha laughed out loud. It was a nice to hear it since you liked the sound of her laugh, it brought you a sense of home.

Wanda took slight offense in your words. "I'm only a year older than you!" She exclaimed with a gasp. You shrugged your shoulder. "My point still stands." Wanda rolled her eyes. "Rude.." Shaking your head was the only thing you could come up with as retort. You got under the blanket, which was very soft and fluffy, and held it up for the other two women to join you underneath it. Natasha teased the other red head all while getting closer to you. "Face it Wands, you're getting old."

"I'm getting old? Should I mention your age Miss Romanoff?" Wanda got sassy in a way you hadn't seen in years. It was endearing to hear the banter between girls that meant a lot to you. The older red head felt attacked by the younger woman, though both knew they said it out of fun. "Don't you dare!"

You interrupted them since you loved putting your input in this banter. They just amused you very much. "Ohh but I dare you too."

"Y/N no! Not you too." She looked at you with puppy eyes. "I thought you liked me."

"I do. I love your guys' drama more than a movie so go ahead and continue." It nearly brought out a smile of you but the small urge to do so vanished quickly as your mind reminded you that you don't deserve to be happy. They both sensed the mood shift in you afterwards so they changed the topic by deciding which movie to put on. They both choose Encanto, a movie you had yet to see but only heard great things about. You started to cuddle and hug Wanda's side like a koala bear. Suddenly you felt drained again so you closed your eyes. But something was still missing for you to feel at peace. "Nat?" - "Mhm?" - "Could you spoon me from behind?" She came up behind you and spooned you exactly as you requested. "Like this?" Natasha made sure that you were comfortable and didn't cross your boundaries. You quickly grabbed her hand and put around your waist. "Like this yes. Thank you." You felt safe with both of them laying there like that. They both gave you a kiss on your heard, telling you that they loved you. You only hum in acknowledgement since the sound of their steady breaths and the movie noises in the background made you sleepy. You soon fell asleep in their embrace as your heart and mind didn't feel as heavy as before.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #black widow x female reader

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nightsinbluevelvet · 8 months ago

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Dear! You have been awfully quiet these past few weeks, I hope you are well? I, for one, have been feeling a little uneasy, but that is because I miss our boys so much! Their presence together anchors me, and makes me believe in divine connections of souls again. I hope to see them together at an event soon. What do you think? Will we see them soon?

Thank you so much for your concern! I'm perfectly fine. I didn't mean to disappear, I've just been busy in my personal life, travelling a bit and such things.

I don't feel uneasy about Matt and Jonny at all, but I do miss them every day. You're definitely not alone in craving their presence together. I see people writing similar things every single day. The connection they have when they're together makes us believe in good things again, in love, in humanity.

Actually I wanted to address the interesting pieces of information we got some time ago, that cleared up some rumours about Matt and Jonny that I've wished people would stop spreading.

First, Jonny denying he has a boyfriend.

In this, now infamous, London Evening Standard interview from December (https://www.standard.co.uk/culture/tvfilm/jonathan-bailey-fellow-travelers-paramount-plus-interview-bridgerton-b1126156.html) Jonny was quoted as saying there's a "lovely man" in his life, which created insane rumours for months.

In this recent L.A. Times interview (https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/awards/story/2024-05-14/jonathan-bailey-fellow-travelers-bridgerton-wicked-matt-bomer-ron-nyswaner) Jonny adressed those rumours. “'The only thing that got syndicated from that story was that I had a boyfriend, and it wasn’t true,' he sighs."

It's very sad that people focused on that instead of the coffee shop incident. Also, I've been saying all along that some comment like that can't be used as evidence for his current relationship status. Now we know that he was misquoted (likely on purpose) and that there wasn't a boyfriend to begin with. Didn't it strike anyone else as odd that Jonny would say "Having a private life is, for me, completely critical" and then reveal a boyfriend in the same interview?

There was a lovely man he called after the incident, however (and this was the day after the HRC gala), and that could have been Matt - or anyone else, of course.

People have also been spreading rumours about Jonny being together with Hugh Skinner, because they're often seen together. Anyone claiming that that is true now, is also claiming that Jonny was lying when he said there wasn't a boyfriend. That's technically possible, but I still think we should respect what he says, and also respect his wish to keep his private life private. Besides, Jonny has also called Hugh his best friend, at least in this Sunday Times article from 2020 (https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/jonathan-bailey-interview-brilliant-from-top-to-bottom-z6k8fct79):

"Apparently, he and his best friend, fellow actor Hugh Skinner (the hapless Will in W1A and also Fleabag’s first, dweeby boyfriend) have a 'little black book of experiences that we would like to put into some sort of series.'"

They have been friends for over a decade, I believe, although I don't know that much about them.

Then, in the same L.A. Times article I mentioned before, Jonny denied being in a sexual relationship with Matt.

"I would love for people to know that the success of our chemistry isn’t based on us f—." he says. (He sounds so much like Skippy here, in the "person I'm fucking" scene. "It sounds so ugly.")

There are all those "I think they're fucking" comments, but somehow I thought they were in the minority. Is that really what people reduce their relationship to? It makes me livid if Jonny or Matt think that this is what fans make of the extraordinary connection between them.

This is out of context here and I don't mean to imply anything, but I thought what Jonny said in the recent Wall Street Journal article (https://www.wsj.com/style/jonathan-bailey-bridgerton-wicked-fellow-travelers-c3cae796) was interesting:

"I think maybe what fascinates me most about humans is there’s always a distance between what you want and what you have and who you are and who you want to be. I mean, if I’m still longing and 92 years old, then I’m going to be very happy."

Then there's what Jonny said in the Variety article, also from this month (https://variety.com/2024/tv/awards/fellow-travelers-emmys-submissions-jonathan-bailey-matt-bomer-1236004818/):

Bailey has been wonderfully complimentary of his co-star Bomer while on the circuit. In an upcoming interview with Variety, Bailey praised him, calling him “the flag in the sand of ‘Fellow Travelers.’ He made it the most exciting and enjoyable. It’s a happy friendship and working relationship, and I look forward to doing something with him again.”

This is so beautiful! And it's only a matter of time, then, before we get them together in a project again.

As for your question if I think we'll see them soon, I obviously have no idea. It really sucks big time that Jonny won't be at the June 1 panel. I'm genuinely happy for him that he's now a superstar (and I'm sure Matt is too), he deserves it, but Matt deserves the same...

We'll just have to stay positive and hope we'll get to see our baby boys together again SOON.

#jonathan bailey #matt bomer #fellow travelers

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so-many-fandoms-here · 1 year ago

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A little context for those who haven’t read the maze runner book: towards the end of the first book the gladers hide inside the homestead for the night so the grieves wouldn’t get them. They distributed the boys in the rooms and Newt, Alby, Minho and Thomas ended up together in one room. Alby leaves to go to the card room.

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice)

• Characters: Thomas, Newt

• Genre: fluff, angst

• Warnings: mentions of death

All I Needed To Know

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Thomas‘ Pov:

After two hours of laying awake between the other sleeping boys I just couldn’t stay there anymore. It suddenly felt like the room was shrinking and all the oxygen was already used. I needed to get out of there, at least for two minutes.

As quiet as possible I tried to stand up, careful not to wake anyone up I sneak to the door and stepped out of the room. Thankfully the hallway was empty, no glader or griever was there and all I could hear was the noises coming from outside the building.

How did the others manage to fall asleep in the first place? Sleep has never felt so far away like now. All I could think of was that our world is currently ending, and we didn’t had a single clue what to do about it.

Suddenly I heard one of the floorboards crack. I suppressed a scream, and grabbed the knife I’ve had in my pocket while I turned around.

„It‘s just me Tommy.“

I sighed at the sound of Newts voice and put down the knife. „You scared the living klunk outta me!“ I cursed him with a whisper.

„Sorry. I heard you leaving. Everything okay?“ He came a step closer, looking me right into my eyes.

„If everything is okay?“ I asked and had to laugh at this stupid question. „Did you miss that the freaking world is ending?“ I didn’t mean to make it sound so insulting, but Newt didn’t even seemed to noticed my harsh tone. Instead of answering he just placed his hands on my shoulders.

Newt had an aura around him that could calm me down in any situation, even in that moment. With his strong hands on my shoulders I felt a little more protected. I knew I could trust him.

„I‘m sorry“ I mumbled. „It’s just… I’m scared Newt.“ It felt good that I got that off my shoulders. „I act tough but even though I can’t remember much, I am pretty sure that I wasn’t ever as scared as I am now in my whole life.“

Newt started rubbing his thumbs over my shoulder muscles and I felt myself easing up a little bit. „I wish I could stay just as calm as you.“ I confessed and to my surprise Newt giggled quietly. Even then his laugh was able to make me feel better.

„I am not as calm as I pretend to be“, he says. „I am bloody terrified. Just like you. But if I let it show all the others would be even more scared. They need me to stay calm but believe me, I feel like I am about to klunk my pants.“ I had to giggle too at this statement.

Newts hands left my shoulders and traveled down to hold my upper arms. „I don’t know what is happening Tommy. In the past few days everything turned upside down but what I know is that I trust you. I know you will find a way. You always found one since you climbed out of the box.“

A warm feeling spread from my chest trough my body. Having Newts trust felt better than anything else I have ever felt before.

I thought Teresa confused me but as I stood there with Newt, the feelings I thought I might had for her were long forgotten. They were nothing compared to what I felt for him in this very moment. I knew Newt was my anchor from the first few words he said to me. He always had my back and made sure I was okay but has he always been this attractive too?

The grey light from the broken sky that sneaked trough the cracks of the wooden planks we used to barricade the windows with fell on him, highlighting the left side of his face. His toned jaw was clenched from sorrow. „I want to cry, I want to scream but I can’t. I don’t have the time for it nor can I allow myself to be so vulnerable.“

I felt the desire to hug him, to hold him close and never let him go ever again. So I did. With my heart beating loudly I pulled him into my arms and held him as close as possible. Newts hands were crossed behind my neck and I felt warm drops soaking into my shoulder. His tears hurt me more than every weapon or griever could ever, yet I was happy that he was finally able to cry. I couldn’t imagine how long he might had to lock his tears behind his eyelids, how long he might had to hide the despair he feels inside him. But I felt how the weight that burdened on his back slowly became a little bit easier and for one time I was glad to be there. Glad to be able to hold this boy in my arms so he can cry away the pain he locked inside for over two years.

After a few minutes Newt lifted his head from my shoulder and looked in my eyes again, his orbs sparkling from the tears. I didn’t dare to let go of his hips, almost as if he could‘ve disappeared right in front of my eyes if I did. „Bloody hell, Tommy“, he whispered, his voice shaky, as he leaned his forehead against mine.

Silence fell over us again and for another few moments we just stood there, his head resting against mine. „We should head back to bed“, he raises his voice again after a while, barely loud enough for me to hear. But I wasn’t ready to let go of him yet. Newt felt that I wasn’t moving my hands, but he didn’t try to walk away either. „Tommy please. My mind isn’t in a state where it can think rationally. I don’t want to do something I might regret tomorrow.“

With all the secrets around me, Newts brutal honesty was the best and most refreshing thing that could have happened to me. „What if there isn’t a tomorrow?“ I replied, knowing what this might lead to.

The taller boy wasn’t answering. At first he just remained still and it seemed like he was evaluating what I just said. The next second his lips crashed with such force onto mine that I stumbled. Strong hands found my face and rested on my cheeks, while my own hands stayed on his hips, trying to pull him even closer to me while I kissed him back.

Newts breath went heavy and I tasted the tears that rolled down his cheeks again. „Tommy.“ But I shut him up by catching his lips for another kiss.

My hands snuck up to his face, mirroring his pose and resting on his cheeks. „Let‘s talk about this when the world isn’t ending anymore.“ This had to be the craziest thing that ever left my lips.

Newt agreed with a nod, kissed me one last time and then turned around to walk back into the room we stayed for the night. I was right behind him, closing the door silently and stepping over Minho to get to my blanket again. Newt gifted me one last beautiful smile before he turned around and tugged himself in his own blanket again.

With every day I felt like my goals and what I was fighting for got more and more clear. But now after Newt kissed me I knew everything I needed to. I would get him out of here, no matter what. And I would make sure that he wouldn’t regret what just happened.

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paradoxcase · 1 year ago

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I picked up my sister and her friends from their week-and-a-half-long hike around Mount Rainier on Friday, and they were still staying with me for a bit until the last one left today, so I took a little break from the Locked Tomb. It's kind of hard to stay up late reading and writing out tumblr posts when someone wants to go to sleep in your living room at 9:30 PM every night

Anyway, on to the glossary

There's actually a lot of interesting worldbuilding info here that I would have loved to have heard about in the actual text of the story, like this isn't like the LOTR appendices where all that information really is extra stuff, or details that aren't important to the main story, or related stories that don't affect the main plot too much, this is just like, basic information about the premise of this universe, and I only found out about it in the glossary at the end of the book

Argh

Anyway

So, yes, this actually did make it into the text of the story, I remember Gideon talking about this. But then, at the end of this glossary, it says

So, if the reason necromancy normally doesn't work in space is that it doesn't have a thalergy anchor, which presumably has to be something that generates a lot of thalergy, is the reason that Lyctors can do necromancy in space that the Lyctor themself is a large enough source of thalergy to be a thalergy anchor? I remember that when Mayonnaise Uncle tried to siphon Ianthe she told him that he couldn't siphon her thalergy fast enough to outpace her generation of it, so that seems maybe accurate. But if that's the case, couldn't any necromancer in the presence of a Lyctor do necromancy in space as well? If the main point of Lyctors is to be able to do necromancy in space, couldn't the Emperor just have a large collection of regular necromancers hanging out with the Lyctors to do that? I also got the impression from the epilogue that the Emperor was more or less confined to his space ship and was not able to actually personally go down to the planet, and I'm curious to find out why that is

So, ok. All of our cavaliers are listed in the Dramatis Personae as being cavalier primaries to the various heirs. But, presumably, being the heir means there is a living ruling necromancer that they are the heir to (well, except in Harrow's case, and I gather that maybe Isaac was technically the ruling necromancer of the Fourth, but probably under some kind of regency arrangement with Magnus and Abigail), and those necromancers probably also had cavaliers, at least at one time, and wouldn't it make sense for the cavalier of the ruler to be the cavalier primary? Like, obviously when it comes to Harrow, her parents' cavalier was officially dead even if her parents were only unofficially dead, so that would pretty much make Ortus (and later Gideon) the cavalier primary, but is it just an accident that something similar happened with all the other houses, making all the other heirs' cavaliers the cavalier primary? Or do rulers sometimes decide to rank their heirs' cavaliers higher than their own cavaliers?

This is also the first information we have about what the Resurrection was. So, it's not just the resurrection of God, but of the entire system, which made all of the planets undead planets that radiate thanergy? I'm having trouble imagining what disaster could cause the destruction of the entire system. Even if the sun turned into a red giant, I think that would only destroy the inner planets, and the outer ones would be fine (just hotter). I'm guessing the reason that necromancers can't reliably reproduce on regular planets is that babies need to be exposed to thanergy in the womb to become necromancers, so that only happens with reasonable frequency on undead planets. Also, if the nine planets in their current state were recreated by God, why did he choose to make them just as uninhabitable as they were before the Resurrection? Surely if he can restore planets after they were destroyed, he can also do some terraforming while he's at it?

This is the first mention in the book of the River, which seems to be the afterlife (although I've also seen it in some comments here, and in some tumblr posts about Palamedes that probably contain spoilers that I haven't read enough of the books to get properly spoiled for yet). But I gather that getting Gideon back isn't going to involve this, since probably Gideon and the other cavaliers that were absorbed by their necromancers don't wind up in the River

So, this seems to discredit Mayonnaise Uncle's statement that the Ninth House was never meant to exist as merely something that some Houses believe to be the case. And indeed, the Emperor didn't seem to think that Harrow wasn't a proper heir, or wasn't mean to be called to become a Lyctor, or that he disapproved of the Ninth House in any way. It's interesting that it says the body in the Locked Tomb was "placed in the Ninth House in order to show it respect", so I kind of wonder if whoever it was was not actually an "unfathomable enemy of the Emperor" and in fact had some other kind of relationship with him

So, there is some development of means of FTL travel, but this doesn't really explain very much about it. I'm curious why they would use this within the main system itself, though - IIRC, I calculated they were going a max of like 5 or 6 times the speed of light to get from Pluto to Earth in an hour at their shortest distance, so at approaching light speed that would only take like six hours; if we make a probably bad and wrong estimate that the longest distance is like three times the shortest distance, that's still less than a day. People sit in economy seats on commercial airplanes for longer than that. Why set up a stele in the main solar system just to save less than a day on the longest possible trip you could make there? Or did they just not even bother to have ships that even go at approaching light speed, and just rely entirely on the stele system, whatever it is?

Also, this says there were "originally seven full Lyctors". We've been told repeatedly throughout the text of the story that there were eight original Lyctors. So does that mean that one of those eight was not a "full Lyctor" and was incomplete in some manner?

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth

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reblog-house · 2 years ago

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Get to Know Me Better

Tag 9 however many people you want to get to know better.

Tagged by @cassandralie !

Three ships:

Ineffable Husbands

And the next ones are hard, since that's like. The only ship I actively read fics of now. In previous fandoms, I always had like a handful of fics to fall back on, but now...

I do like Anathema and Newt though.

... Okay, hear me out. This is where the ship dilemma I mentioned comes in. Wait actually no, i haven't mentioned it yet. I mean i have, but in the next question. I'm jumping from point to point. But anyway, the ship dilemma is the following: what even COUNTS as a ship? Because I really like this non-GO "pairing" but not romantically. In a more "they're meant for each other whether they like it or not — and they don't. They're doomed to be put in awful funny situations and make a fucking mess and blame the other and they're great friends! but also enemies" way. Honestly, the thing stopping me is that they're mcytbers lmao. Except they're not, since I couldn't care less about them irl. It's just the characters they play that make me go *chef's kiss*. If you guessed Grian and Scar. Yeah. Not Hermitcraft though. The Life series. They make each other miserable whenever they're paired up and it's hilarious. Wouldn't read a fic though.

First ship ever:

Oh this is awfully hard. You have no idea how hard this is. I don't know how to even define ship here (as you can see, this is the ship dilemma actually mentioned before). Cause I liked Pucca and Garu, but I also acknowledged Woody and Buzz, I also liked Anastasia and the baker, and I may have imagined something about Coop and Mr Kat (not even enemies to lovers, just a specific situation i can still remember to this day — and I'll just note down that Mr Kat is an alien who looks like a cat, Not a cat), etc etc. It's really fucking hard to say only one. But if i focus on me Aware of shipping... Fuck, probably some creepypasta ship. Jane and Jeff? I didn't know she was a lesbian back then. But i may still be off by a long shot.

Last song:

Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives! Aziraphale my beloved.

Last movie:

20,000 Species of Bees. It was very good. And ouch. It's about an 8 y.o. trans girl figuring herself out and oof. If you don't like open endings, don't watch it. It was 2h long and honestly? I realized it was long while watching it, but not that long!

Currently reading:

I had actually meant to re-read Good Omens today, but didn't take my book with me. But i didn't, so nothing? But the last thing I read was Boethius' On the Consolation of Philosophy and I have to re-read some passages for a project so... I'll count that.

Currently consuming:

Air, barely (mask in a bus — not much air to consume (I SWEAR THIS IS THE THIRD TIME I'VE WRITTEN THAT SENTENCE WHAT THE HELL. WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I'VE WRITTEN THAT PHRASE BEFORE)). Unless this is a general "consuming", in which case, I'm listening to the song i mentioned before (that was my last listened song before i saw this, and it made me want to listen to it again. But now the song just switched (and now nothing again, woops)).

Currently craving:

Honestly, literally any food whatsoever. I'm hungry and i won't be home for at least another hour and a half. (An hour, now. Like I said, jumping around from point to point)

Anyway. I don't really know who else to tag?

So uh. Hm.

I. Did not mean for this to be as long as it was. I can't help but ramble, as you might've seen right there.

#carime rambles #see? even my regular tag for own posts acknowledges it!#tag game

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jon-withnoh · 1 year ago

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100, 121, 129!

100. Your favourite Gothic novel:

It’s impossible to choose just one so I‘ll give you several. I spent a lot of time with Jane Eyre during my English degree and it‘s still one of my favourites. There‘s just so much there! (I‘d also recommend Wild Sargasso Sea and Jane Steele as interesting takes on the Jane Eyre story.) Secondly, people are sleeping on The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë. I actually prefer her prose to Charlotte‘s and she opens up extremely interesting subject matter (a woman fleeing her abusive husband with her son and earning her own living as an artist, to give the briefest of summaries). Thirdly, I do of course have to recommend Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. It‘s an extremely rich text that rewards multiple readings (I am currently on my third reread, armed with book tabs and a pencil). Definitely try to get a copy that has Sally Beauman‘s introduction (or find it on my blog under the rebecca das musical tag, hehe). It gives a lot of context and provides a jumping off point for further research.

121. A book that makes you nostalgic:

Anne of Green Gables (specifically the German translation I read as a child). I „borrowed“ (read: stole) the copy from my cousin, fully intending to give it back but never actually doing it. I‘m pretty sure she never noticed. It had the first two books of the series and I reread it countless times, especially over the summer. It‘s the perfect mixture of a heroine I could really identify with and an atmosphere that fits really well with that endless, sunny feeling of childhood summer holidays (at least in my memory).

Another book that makes me very nostalgic now is Alanna, the First Adventure by Tamora Pierce. I had the first two books of the series in German translation and read them many, many times. (I actually didn‘t end up finishing the series until I was in my early twenties).

129. A book with beautiful prose:

I have to recommend another book connected to Rebecca here (mainly because I just moved and all my books are in boxes, depriving me of visual reminders of the books I have actually read): Mrs de Winter by Susan Hill has very smooth, atmospheric prose that I enjoyed a lot.

I haven‘t read a lot of fiction in the last couple of years because I focused on poetry in my MA, so I also want to recommend a couple of poetry collections:

Flèche by Mary Jean Chan — this collection changed me. I want to memorise it and have it with me everywhere. I‘m stealing this description from the back of the book since words really are failing me: „As complex themes of multilingualism, queerness, psychoanalysis and cultural history emerge, so too does a richly imagined personal, maternal and national biography. The result is a series of poems that feel urgent and true, dazzling and devastating by turns“.

Good Bones by Maggie Smith — you might have read the title poem of the collection, „Good Bones“ that went viral a few years ago. This whole collection is a delight though, with images that appear and reappear in different places in the collection, thoughts on maturing, motherhood, and the feeling of being anchored to — or escaping — the place where you grow up.

No Map Could Show Them by Helen Mort — I recommend this book to everyone who asks me about poetry. I am not lying when I say that this is the book that made me a poet. I solidly thought of myself as a prose writer before I read it. It‘s a collection focusing on present day and historical women mountaineers (with detours into other subjects). What always draws me in about Mort‘s poetry is her incredible gift of getting the imagery and form of her poems work together to really make them sing. I could give a twenty minute lecture on her use of white space alone. I love this book.

#wheeee q&a time!#ask games #book recs ask game #thank you anon!

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grayzeppelin281 · 1 year ago

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Hey Gray, I have decided to review and ask about the main characters from your KFP fanfiction series…the three former villains, aka the Trinity. The third and the last one would be…the Beast of Vengeance, Maker of Widows, and the Mightiest Warrior, General Kai!

I love the idea of making him a widower. It surely adds a deeper lore on him. Like I said before, one of the things that I was disappointed in the third movie was the lack of depth in Kai's backstory(just like you also said!). And giving him a long-lost family was a great idea. So, what made you write this fabulous backstory?

One thing I was confused about while reading your story was…What exactly is Wugu's current status?More like...

-Is she the same as Kai's Jade amulet? If so, how can she talk and interact with him?

-Or is she a spirit? If so, shouldn't she be at the Spirit Realm? How can she appear in a mortal world?

-I noticed that Wugu both appeared in Kai's necklace and Xing's katana(Wugu's sword). Then… Is the necklace and the pendant some kind of anchor that Wugu's soul is in, and she can travel between the two objects

3. What is the backstory of Wugu? Since she is the sister(P.S: is she older or younger sister?) of the main villain Huoju, I think her story would be interesting too. like… -How, and why did she escape from Huoju? -How did Kai and Wugu meet each other? How did they fall in love and eventually get married?(I can't imagine Kai being 'romantic', haha) -Did Wugu know about Kai's corruption? If she did, how did she think about it? Umm you might have to answer this question by making an another post…

Alright, so that's it for our General, Gray! I will be waiting for your kind reply!

Alright, Righteous Flames! I can not deny that General Kai is my favorite one who is the least popular, unlike Shen and Tai Lung. The lore I did dig in a writing history on his recognition as the Maker of Widows presents him to be a husband killer, proving his vengeance by slaughtering enemies who are married - many wives watched their husbands die by the hooves of General Kai, became widows. This may contain spoilers from my series, The Mightiest Warriors, so if anyone hasn't read, avoid you can! I will answer as little as possible for our giant friend.

1A. Yes! I did mention the lack of depths for Kai's background story that needs to be expanded more. Oogway's story is there, and we need to hear Kai's story as well - we want to know why his brother betrayed him. What other titles did he achieve for and among the good and bad ones? With a hint of Maker of Widows title, I did expand his tragic event that caused the death of his beloved wife Wugu, making him a monster everyone feared of his wrath.

1B. The more I write for Kai's tale, the more I like to understand he had his family during the Great War events in the first place. Since writing The Trinity Book I, I created an idea for Kai to discover his lost memory of his own family member - one of his own who fought beside the warlords. A mystery warrior. What I see Kai's type, mostly everyone I hear, he's like a dad figure, so when I generated ideas to build the warlord's complex tale, after I watched Disney's Treasure Planet (Treasure Island) with Silver and Jim, the hidden symbolism of a father and son truly makes me want to write for Kai and one of my characters (The yak warlord was a father before in his past life, and promising himself to never lose another son, he will protect the important one until his last breath).

2A. (Is Wugu the same as Kai's amulet?)

Now, for my OC's current status, Wugu's essence rests in her amber amulet. Unlike Kai claiming chi from souls to enchance his strength and power, and using Oogway's amulet around his neck last time, her necklace is like a totem charm, her power of whispers she can communicate with her husband, including her defensive abilities to cast her spells against those who harm him, and her healing melody to relieve those around Wugu's proximity. (Her strength is limited.)

2B. (Wugu's appearance in her necklace and Chen Xing's sword)

As for the ancient weapon (Heaven's Wrath) from the falling stars, Wugu, among previous owners who grasped the katana from different times, used to carry her weapon across Great War battles with Generals. After her death, the weapon waits for its chosen wielder, and as part of the previous owner, Wugu can transfer her soul from her amber necklace to straight katana. Same ability to speak with a new wielder, but it is very defensive and lethal, unlike previous sword owners.

Wugu's Background Story

Okay. This appears to be more complicated than ever. Some of these are planning in the works, mostly in spoilers, so I'll share some lore under WIP.

3A. Wugu is a young sister of my main villain Prince Huoju, a few minutes younger than him (They were born as twin siblings, giving references of Luke and Leia Skywalker from Star Wars Original Trilogy, and Prince Nuada and Princess Nuala from Hellboy II: The Golden Army.)

Her background tale (what I'll be digging in this lore) appears to be tragic. What I meant tragic, was their father Emperor Khan became a stubborn leader who wished to erase histories of China and essentials of martial arts; he and his ally (mystery character) forced Huoju to march his army and destroy Qing Temple, where Oogway and his companions built Kung Fu, Wing Chun, and Tai Chi, all three into one essence of martial arts tranquility.

3B. After a recent tragedy event of the Desolation of Qing Temple, the siblings received their curse from Emperor Khan's ally. Wugu's failed attempt was for her convincing Huoju not to lay destruction across temples, but her brother needed to save his own fur from abandoning their legacy. The curse they received was immortality, immune from the mortal age. Realizing her father was much cruelty to despising his own daughter, giving his son the only opportunity to kill his own sister for being a worthless blood, Wugu fled and survived from her father and brother.

3C. (First encounter of Kai and Wugu) Shhhh. Our friend's tale is under progression and will prevail. Will be updating a marriage scene during the last fifteen years before the Great War's end. *Sighs* I really need to learn romance someday (friendship and family are what I am good at).

3D. (Did Wugu know about Kai's corruption?) Yes. She knew her soulmate went to a chi corruption when Kai discovered his ways to claim souls, craving for more to be stronger. Feared that Kai continued to claim masters and a few of worthy for collection (shut up, Grievous!), and fill with loathsomeness against Oogway for panda monks who opened his eyes for the change, Wugu had no magic to suppress his dark chi from an ancient enemy who claimed others like Kai.

That's the last one for the three baddies! Thank you for all the questions, Righteous Flames!

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goblinmatriarch · 2 years ago

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Chapter four is up on AO3! This excerpt is long because it was like the second scene I wrote for this fic, and I feel so tenderly toward Ginny in it that I couldn't bear to only post a part of it.

Albus finally down for the count, Harry staggered back downstairs to find Ginny sprawled out on the couch with a glass of wine from the bottle they’d opened at dinner to toast the new season. She nudged his glass with her toe, and Harry grabbed it gratefully and flopped down next to her.

They spoke about nothing for a while – the kids’ schedules, plans for the Harpies, Lily’s current phase of loudly and tunelessly singing all her activities – then subsided into silence.

Almost like a habit, Harry rolled his head toward her and sighed out her name. "Gin. What went wrong with us?"

Ginny was rolling her eyes before he even finished the question. "Two glasses of wine and it’s like we’re right back in therapy." But she ruffled his hair fondly and pretended to think.

"Let’s see, what was it?" She tapped her chin with one finger as though in deep thought. "You were too invested in saving the world and didn’t have time to focus on your own happiness. I felt trapped on a one-way path to becoming my mother, who is a very lovely person, but not the life I want for myself.”

She gave him a soft smile. "We just weren’t ready," she said firmly, confidently, as she had so many times before. "We were kids, and we had just been through a war, and we thought that meant we were grown up, but we still had more growing to do, and we didn’t do it in the same way."

Harry rolled his head back to look at the ceiling, nodding along, the words familiar and comfortable.

"We weren’t ready," he echoed. "We weren’t our whole selves yet, and then it turned out those whole selves weren’t…right for each other."

He grinned loosely up at the ceiling. "At least we did one thing right. Well," he amended, "three things."

Ginny was silent for a long moment. He glanced over at her to find her staring vacantly into the middle distance, twisting her wine glass slowly by its stem.

"Gin?"

She spoke reluctantly but as though she couldn’t stop herself, like it was exploding out of her.

"I don’t think I should have had children."

Harry blinked, startled, and Ginny immediately backpedalled.

"I love the kids so much," she said desperately. "I’m so glad they’re here; I would never unwish them from the world. But." She swallowed. "If I was going to do it again. If I could go back…" Her voice was thick with held-back tears.

"But," Harry said, baffled, "you– you’re great! You’re an excellent mother!"

Ginny ran a knuckle roughly under one eye and laughed shortly. "Of course I am; that’s not the issue."

Harry stared at her as she gathered her thoughts.

"I just mean…my life," Ginny said slowly. "I love the kids, I want them around, but I imagine what my life might be if I hadn’t had children – not the actual people but the way your life sort of…forms around them. Takes a certain shape, because it has to, because they need you." She looked at Harry, and there was a question in her words, like she was begging him to understand.

He turned the idea over in his mind. Of course he knew what she meant; it was impossible not to understand. His life, now, was as a parent first and foremost. Everything he did was as a parent: go to work, think about how he wanted to make the world better for his kids. Go to the market, wonder if they were all still eating beans or if someone would institute a surprise boycott. Read a good book, consider when the kids would be old enough to share recommendations.

Ginny seemed to be getting nervous in the face of his long silence. "I do love them," she insisted guiltily. "I guess I’ve just been thinking about the new season, how much I’ve been looking forward to it and to dropping the kids off with you and getting to just." She whooshed a hand into the air. "Go," she finished.

"The kids are like…an anchor," Harry said slowly. "Or maybe, like, a star. And I’m always orbiting it, and I’m always going to be orbiting it, even if I’m doing something else."

Ginny’s mouth quirked into a sad smile. "An anchor," she echoed. "Yes, that’s right. And I think," she paused, as though worried she’d offend, then continued all in one breath: "I think maybe you’ve always wanted to be anchored, and I spent most of my life struggling to break free."

Harry nodded. This was familiar ground once more. "Families," he announced grandly.

"Families," Ginny repeated quietly. Then she brightened, poked him in the side with her elbow. "You know that’s us, right?" She grinned, sadness banished to the far corners of her smile. "A family."

Harry slumped farther down on the couch so he could lean his head against her shoulder. He did love being anchored. He needed people to orbit around.

"I’m glad you’re still my family," he mumbled into her shoulder. Ginny brushed a hand over his hair for a moment, then laughed and shoved him off.

"I’m going to bed," she announced, standing up from the couch. "This is all getting a bit maudlin for my tastes."

Read the fic on AO3

#drarry #fanfic #drarry fic #the practice of everyday life #bamf ginny weasley #i love her so much #divorce

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theshadowsingersraven · 6 months ago

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Not sure how this ended up on my dashboard, but I'll give you a genuine answer.

Because their plot lines don't overlap, given Elain’s ties to Koschei, his lake, Vassa, Lucien, and the Autumn Court and Day Court by extension.

Azriel is tied to Ramiel, Illyria, the history of Enalius, Truth-Teller, the Prison via Nesta, and the Valkyries as well.

And because trying to squish both their development into one book while resolving all those plot lines sounds shitty. One of them would inevitably take a back seat. It makes sense that, like Nessian, one character in the pairing has done further healing and growth to help be an anchor for the other character. Cassian did have growth, but not as much as Nesta, so he was able to be her anchor. Elain and Azriel both need anchors, and they can not be that for one another. At least, not without making me shut the book and just read a summary.

I don't want a back seat for either of them. I want their full stories notably separate from one another and thus, without one outshining the other.

Enter...Lucien and Gwyn! Both tied to the individual plot divides, and with their own character growth progress notably different than Elain and Azriel’s.

What the real debate is how much CC3 will change the path forward. If Koschei remains the big bad, then it thematically makes sense for him to be the last issue to deal with, and be Elain’s villian, how Amarantha was to Feyre and Briallyn was to Nesta. And I've seen people mention it could be fitting for the series to start and end with an Archeron sister, and I'm inclined to agree. Thus, leaving Gwynriel as the penultimate book.

If Koschei does not remain the big bad, and instead it becomes the Asteri, it makes sense to eliminate the threat on Prythian first, then go out to inter-world travel and deal with the Asteri before they can descend on Prythian again. Enter Azriel, the Valkyries, probably Merril and Rhys for the final book, and Elucien for the penultimate.

And don't bring up Vassa or Vassien. There's no scenario where I will take Vassien seriously as anything other than a convenient way to get Lucien removed from the equation. You can tell me he's laughed or blushed with her and lives with her all you want, but all that shows to me is that Nezriel should be a more popular ship, since they meet all that romance criteria Vassien does, and would be a "forbidden romance", too. You can tell me the lord of fire and the firebird all you want, but the Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death didn't make Rhyscien endgame. You can bring up the Swan Lake retelling, but there's an Eastern European retelling of the Death of Koschei the Deathless where Ivan's three sisters marry three kings of the sun, moon, and the wind, a potentially clear parallel to Lucien, Rhys, and Cassian. Especially if Cassian becomes High Lord of Dusk alongside Nesta, and that ends up being a throughline to "Prince of Bastards" becoming the High Lord of Dusk, and the symmetry of all three sisters becoming the High Ladies of Night, Dusk, and Day.

TL;DR: An Elriel book sounds short-sighted for a relationship we believe to be shallow, undermining both world-building around mates as well as the clear divide in current issues to tackle, (similar to Empire of Storms and Tower of Dawn, the division of those necessary plot points requiring two full novels) which would lead to rushed and poor plot progression, which we think SJM can do better than.

There's your answer. ✌🏻

So if I'm understanding this correctly...

Gwynriels are making post after post insisting that Azriel will be the next MMC because he got the BC POV, and his recent cameo in HOFAS

Eluciens are making post after post insisting that Elain will be the next FMC because she's the last Archeron sister and she has more development than Gwyn so far....

And yet, when Elriels say "congrats, y'all are both right! It's Elain AND Azriel's book"

Suddenly... that is something that has "zero evidence and is delusional"?

How is it delusional if y'all are insisting both Azriel and Elain have enough development and groundwork to be setup as the next MMC and FMC??

#anti elriel #anti e/riel #antielriel #pro gwynriel #pro elucien

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ohpollenpowder · 2 years ago

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Finally I have finished Nilo's little set of information. So here he is! I'll work on Nicoletta once I return from a cousin's wedding. But I wouldn't expect it before the pride walk...

For the twins…their early story follows much of the given storylines. They got Logan's attention by attempting to disrupt Two-Blade Pete and his gang. And also save their friend, Quinn. Or in Nilo's case, his at-the-time boyfriend. So when you have to make the decision to rescue Quinn or stopping Doc Howler, the twins split up—he saved Quinn and Nicoletta stopped the poisoning. It made sense to them both to do so, and they both knew the other could handle it.

Born first by half an hour supposedly, he and his sister were left on the steps of a hospital when they were only two weeks old. The note left with them was almost like a serial killer's—cuttings of books, posters, and newspapers to mask the handwriting and leave a message. It was pinned to Nilo's blanket and simply stated that their parents' current situation wasn't safe for a newborn baby—let alone two of them. They were both loved and wanted, just not secure by their circumstances. Their parents would come back for them one day, hopefully soon, and verify the children by the unique birthmarks that they had. Nilo's birthmark was what looked like an axe under his left armpit; hilariously, he's left-handed.

Their foster mom was a patient lady, especially when their Mesmer abilities started to manifest; she'd go to grab an item or one of them only to have it/them burst into "butterflies." This was first evident when they had been separated—for just a few minutes, honestly, not that they let it happen—Nicoletta was in the doctor's office one moment and the next she was back in her crib with Nilo. They both had a similar burst effect for their abilities, for him, it was a bright pink flame with tinier, more dark pink flames. (Almost like the Fox Fire weapons.)

When they found out their parents were originally Shining Blade, the letter they'd been left with made a lot of sense. For a hot moment, they both entertained the idea of doing as their parents did—joining the Shining Blade. But Logan had…other ideas for them, introducing them to the Orders and pushing them to do more than just help the kingdom. Ideally, they would have been in opposite Orders than what they chose. But Nicoletta had gotten really skeezy vibes from Josir and refused to work with the man. And Nilo could always sneak her in or bring books to her—their ability to portal to one another as the anchor is unparalleled.

They were inseparable when they were younger, with Nicoletta clinging longer than he but not unreasonably so. The knowledge of what happened to their parents, knowing who they were, helped give them strength as well as comfort. At the meet-up Nilo was immediately taken with Emrys' style—it helped get the ball rolling. Not to mention they both found skill information to share. Oiba seemed painfully shy, reminding him of Nicoletta when they were younger. Izar had the brooding atmosphere down pat, very intimidating. (Only lol not terribly so.) And Tarsicia seemed, at first, a little high and mighty, but the longer he watched her during this meeting, the more he thought her just bored.

Nilo kind of had to worm his way in with Oiba, Sieran became the catalyst (lol) for that, one of her usual silly antics… Once the door was opened, Nilo was determined it stayed open, he knew how easily and quickly it could close again. Hunting for the odd invention or spell to improve 1-AID most times. Or finding recipes for food/snacks for her constant pet companions. Tarsicia and he often egged each other on, silly dares and what-not. Never anything that would get either one or others hurt.

Izar…was complicated—at least, that's what he'd tell Nicoletta when she asked. At first, it was just to try and get the broodingly handsome Norn out of his self-imposed shell. But soon the teasing became earnest, Nilo having his own little crush on him. But…it also didn't stop him (at first) at having a little fling with Emrys. They got along like cats in cream and neither one was serious about it. It did cement, in Nilo's mind, that he definitely had something for the big, burly types.

It was Nicoletta who carried Oiba and dragged him out by the arm when it came to Claw Island. Once shock had worn off…he saw how bad his partner was, and he fell into mother-henning Oiba. At least into taking care of herself as he struggled to do the same. Part of him pretends that Claw Island never happened that way. That Sieran and the other mentors were off on some hair-brained journey she was dying to tell them about when she returned.

Trahearne…he disliked. Respected, but wasn't a fan of being around the guy. Maybe it was the way he kinda just scooped them all up in the middle of their mourning and thrust this insane responsibility on them, even though he knew they had no time to mourn. Zhaitan had shown that it wasn't going to give them that space.

Even still, once they defeated the Elder Dragon, it didn't feel like he could mourn yet. And the other dragons were the perfect excuse to delay that further. Dealt with the same sort of sickness that the others experienced, Nilo found himself with a touch more of a connection with technology. Like Oiba had crammed some of her knowledge in his head, but it came to him naturally. But only with small things at first, more would come later with more magic—for the moment, it was think the thought at the machine, and it did it, or he knew how to fix it.

#nilo liberti #gw2 human #gw2 mesmer #guild: the five commanders

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bullet-prooflove · 2 years ago

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Creative Process

The lovely @mariamariquinha asked about my creative process so here it is! This is a long ass post by the way.

Sidebar:

When it comes to developing characters, even reader ones I usually add a little something in there to make more individualised and it kind of creates an anchor point in my head so it’s easy to slip into them. I also think it brings an additional layer to the character and makes them more realistic.

A few examples of this:

- Joe Velasco’s reader usually has at least one tattoo, a lotus on the back of their neck and one on their wrist. I kind of envision them a little spiritual and I feel the lotus flower kind of plays into that. (To be clear I don’t have this as a tattoo)

- Horacio Carrillo’s reader usually has a scar on her throat close to the jugular from clashing with Quica. This serves a few purposes, it shows she is also on the front lines, it reminds Horacio of how close he was too losing her, and I feel it’s realistic that you would have some scars if you were in that type of job. (I also don’t have this scar)

Sometimes I do include tiny details from my life, like experiences or things I’ve encountered, like the way someone’s scent clings to a scarf if they lend it to you and stuff like that. I feel like it helps to add more realism to the work and it’s something readers can identify with.

Back to my creative process, it kinda goes like this:

I get an idea – Usually from a prompt, or a song, or just a random thought I wake up with. I usually have my best ideas in the shower.

One way it works is:

I write the first draft on Google Notes if I am out and about or on Word if I am at the laptop. When studying for my Masters we learned the importance of leaving the first draft for a little while so that you can come back to it with fresh eyes. While I am doing that I am usually working on first drafts for other ideas so by the time I write up the original piece I have fresh eyes.

All of my rough drafts are colour coded by character as you can see, so it’s easy for me to tell what or who I am working with when I am in certain moods.

If I am writing a series, I try to write it up in one big go so I have a good idea of where it’s heading.

On the flipside:

Sometimes when I write a first draft on my laptop it’s really vivid and is almost perfect because I have had a really clear vision of where I want to go and what the piece is about. All it takes is a final flourish and read through and it’s ready to go. (This is pretty rare)

Once I’ve written a rough draft or had an idea, I haven’t had a chance to work on I pop it on my Ideas Trello board:

Each idea has a Gif or image attached to it so I can see which char it relates to as well as a working title and a colour coded banner with the fics current status. This also helps me keep track of where I am when I am writing a series as you can see.

Initially I had the goal of publishing one fic a week so there wasn’t much pressure when I was getting back into Tumblr. So, when I finished one, I would just schedule it for the next week. However, since I was getting the bus more because my job role changed I had more time to write rough drafts so I ended up stepping up my productivity and started posting more regularly. Now I am scheduling content daily for weeks in advance.

I keep track of what is going out and when by making a schedule board on Trello. This also allows me to make sure that there isn’t too much of the same character booked around the same time. I try to space it out a bit more.

I also have inspo boards, so when I see something for a certain char like a GIF or a song, I add it to the boards:

I know this whole thing probably looks like I have no life at all, but the organisation actually really helps me keep on top of things!

I’m a busy person who works 4 days a week and runs their own social media business on the side. I’m married and go on dates with my husband, I also have boxing and sewing classes once a week as well as family obligations.

I have had to slow down over the past few weeks because I have developed prolonged COVID.

The key for me is not to feel guilty if I don’t write. I’m pretty self-reflective and know when I am over encumbered myself so sometimes, I take a step back and just rest for a few days. Taking that time really helps to refresh my mind and I always come back better for it.

I know this works for me and won’t work for everybody but if you have any qs feel free to drop me a line.

#writing process #ask #wow this is a long one #wriiting #writing #writer

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cloudninetonine · 2 years ago

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*awkwardly walks in, waves, downs coffee like a shot, leaves without elaborating after dropping a note*

Hey, nothing too big this time as I've had a rough week and I'm currently dogsitting a dog that ain't mine so my brain power is more or less incoherent and shot, just passing on by to wish you a Merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate) and to thank you for all your work in the fandom!

First of all, I've only know of Mess Au existing for like an hour and a half but I already adore the life out of it, Rip Player and their sanity due to the Evil Chain running around but I am thriving on their content with the Ganons. And, there's a discord? *Confused guitar sounds from a Musician*

Also I'd die for Pastuzo, just saying, if dangerous wild animal then why friend and hug shaped? I've only know him for a day and a half but if anything happened to him I'd murder everyone in the Yigah Clan and then myself, Player is lucky if it was me there with Nat I'd immediately pat, bless that guy (also Rip Nature and his food, I hope he knows that my version of Fia/Seraph is cackling at his misery, just straight up rolling on the floor), and the entire section with Eve? Perfection, outstanding, showstopping, honestly given I'm a reader myself I'd probably chill with him, and I hope Player gets to introduce books from their world to him because something tells me he'd love a wider selection, I am thriving so much with this thank you for the food of Ganon-Player Found Family. *Bows* Also, I kind of want the Ganons to meet Og Chain now, it would be funny.

Also, Player's Aid Au where everything is the same but the reason why Legend dislikes Players is that the only time he remembers with his Guide is in Koholint so that's why he's so Claude Frollo when it comes to them, the trauma is making him suspicious. Or alternatively, where Player is actually a Witch but like A Wadanohara Sea Witch rather than the standard type, like instead of a broom they have a staff with an anchor at the end they use to fight and fly (as well as several other anchors and fish hooks on their design), an Ocarina for healing spells, some control over water and basically does what the Links do but with a twist: protects the ocean and people's dreams, no one in the Chain would ever have a nightmare while they're around, bonus points if we give them a seagull familiar that can turn human, or that it's just straight up Marin, or if because Mipha is a Zora and Zora are sea creatures if they make her a familiar she can also join the Chain or heck even Nayru idk haven't thought that far ahead.

Legend: They're a Witch!

Sea Witch Player, feeding seagulls with Aryll: ... Yes? I did go to witch school in the witch world, and? Do you want to see my certificate and PhD in witchcraft or something?

One thing for sure is that if Sea Witch ever saw the Wind Fish fhey just straight up roll up their sleeves, go "Hold my staff and anchor earrings Rulie/Wild/Wind/Nat/Grandpa Tides" and just try to fistfight it, no magic involved, that or they'd be yelling expletives at it with at least one Chain or Passel/Singular (a group of hogs/boars) member holding them back from fighting it, bonus points if they do the same for Dark Link if they went through the same trauma Wada did or have moon trauma like Time too.

... Now I'm thinking about how the Chain or Ganons would react to Indie games, hm... Eh, maybe in another ask, Tides and Time would mentally adopt Niko from One Shot, or any child protagonists so fast I can literally see it, Time would literally feel smacked by Hello Charlotte and Undertale, and Legend would have a love-hate thing for both Omori, Yume Nikki and Dreamfarer and Hyrule would get so much trauma from Mad Father, gotta think of any other ones for another ask.

Anyway, happy holidays and hope you're having a better existence than I am currently!

-A Very Awkward and Tired Summertime Musician.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS SUMMER!

Also I'm so glad you're enjoying the Mess au right now it's literally all i can think about! Yes, Pastuzo is the pride and joy on the whole au now.

Also we gotta love witches, especially Sea Witch Player and all I'm saying is sharks are pretty great so Player having two familiars and once is a shark (more importantly whale shark because I love them)

Tbh, Tide I feel is an Animal Crossing lover (I know it's not an indie game but still), he enjoys the calmer life.

Also, don't worry! They will be meeting the Chain real soon :)

#cloud answers

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valiantsword · 2 years ago

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the fork in his hand is doing less stabbing and more pushing things around the plate. a piece of brat or two has managed to make it into his mouth since they’d gotten out of the shower but, overall, arthur was being much slower attacking the food than astoria. considering everything that transpired over the evening, though, he supposes he expended much less energy than she. what exactly happened when he came back to life? was that energy? should he be more hungry than he was? odd questions he had considering how long he’d been doing this. but, then, questions wouldn’t really get him anywhere since even andy didn’t have answers to any of the ones she’d considered in her much longer lifespan.

such a strange concept she has. another piece of his meal finally makes it past his lips when astoria calls him a storm. as he chews his hand goes out, fingers splaying to the sides as if he might be able to see the waves within. was that it? growing up by the sea. “ my mother used to call me a tempest. mostly when i was angry. of all of us i was the most even-keeled but no one considered myrddin. nothing phased him. always too deep in his head being several steps out. “ arthur shakes his head and feels wet strands tickle against the sides of his neck. it grounds him back down as he listens further.

sadness wells in him at the idea she’d never felt safe. everyone should have at least one person who made them feel that way. he’d been blessed with three. although, that safety felt different with each of them it was there nonetheless. for some reason he can’t help but wonder of her guardians, then. disappeared. also the exile from ireland. arthur can’t help but wonder if they’re related. both subjects feel a fraction too personal to ask about even if they both wanted to be open about secrets. he could ask but instinct tells him to let it alone. it comes up when it comes up and he hardly thinks he’s going to bite him in the ass while they’re looking for an old book. maybe at her farm, then, while they’re dancing naked under the stars and he’s chopping down wood to keep them warm while they do it.

rude as it felt, the mental image makes him grin. the fork makes a few last efforts to provide him with nourishment before he decides to abandon the plate altogether. he’s really not as hungry as he should be.

“ that sounds like a good compromise, then. “ i like that i sleep better with you than i ever have alone. he’s not sure why the words hit him again but, they do. thinking about sharing a space with someone else for the first time in as long as he can remember because that is most definitely not the same thing as occupying the same safe house with the rest of the guard. am image of lancelot strikes through his heart like an arrow. crawling in to bed while gwen is off in the kitchens. was it somewhere else? he can’t remember now where she’d been off to but he remembers, vividly, being exhausted down to his soul. lancelot held out his arms like an awaiting angel and arthur slid right in as if their bodies were made to click perfectly.

tell me, the other said simply. no demand. no expectation. just an invitation to unload the current weight of the world without judgment. at first he hadn’t planned to. all arthur remembers wanting is sleep. the warmth of his lover’s skin a balm to whatever had been bothering him. but they also had a pact of honesty between them with the reasoning it would be the only way a balance of three lives could work. so, arthur rolled over in lancelot’s arms to put his head on the knight’s chest and unloaded whatever emotional weight had been an anchor. a fight with his sister? or maybe a lament on how their youngest brother had absolutely no ambition for a god damn thing. seemed silly in the present but at the time arthur remembered worrying about what would happen after his passing.

“ boots, i have, “ the blonde winks. his head nods over towards the pair on his side of the bed. more were stashed all over the world but for the sake of traveling there was only ever one pair. that could - should - probably change if he planned on being stationary for a while. a flutter tickles his chest. a home? a real god’s honest home for the first time in centuries? possibly even beyond that. if arthur were very serious with himself he’d say paris never felt like home. being with michel only marginally so. buying that apartment building was all about guilt and in no way about the preservation of emotion. the dancer had been a beautiful blooming flower until the immortal swooped in and trampled all over his life like a soldier running to war. this? astoria? felt indescribably different. the love in him was calm and steady. confident. maybe it’s the waves at the edge of the beach she hears in the storm; a calm rhythm guided by a moon which very well may be her.

“ gods no, “ arthur reaches for the nearby water to take a sip. with the decision made to leave the food he stands, stretches up to the ceiling as far as he possibly can, then plops down right beside her. sheets puff up around him, settling back down. the arm closest to her maintains touch with her thigh while the other folds beneath his head. “ mordred was my son, first off. he was never my nephew. his name was duran nor was he old enough to be the one to betray me when it all happened. “ blue eyes flicker across patterns in the ceiling as a point of focus. “ she tried to kill me. did, i guess? technically? bastard assassin stabbed me in the kidney then slit my throat. then i….got back up. “ the bent arm shrugs. “ the round table spawned from one of gwen’s ideas and included her own batch of knights. gods, she was smart. made a better king than i did most days. everything i’m known for is because of her one way or another. i’ve spent all this time thinking there was no magic but seeing you makes me wonder a lot about both nimue and myrddin. the original sword, actually, had protective runes inscribed into it. i wonder if that’s what you feel? residual of some kind. there has to be some fraction of the original blade in there somewhere despite the several times it’s been remade. “

the next question gives him pause. whatever mindless pattern his finger made against her thigh stops while he thinks, then whispers, “ why would anyone take care of a king? “ the smile is meant to indicate a rhetorical question. he’d been alone. simple as that. none was there to take care of him. “ i really don’t know. not letting you isn’t a conscious decision. i’ve just…been alone. even back in my original life i was the eldest child. leader. taking care of myself is automatic. “

He avoids the topic of time and she knows him well enough, even so soon, to know it's deliberate. The question of death and mortality is one to come back to another day, when he's had a bit of time to get used to her knowing everything. He doesn't ask about the exile, either, and she files that away for later as well, though she'll be happy to tell him if he asks. They are, she thinks, beyond secrets now. (—disgrace to your parents. Disgrace to your coven. A search for such longevity, bordering on immortality, it's selfishness of the highest order, as is keeping that secret, and hoarding power. Had you shown even a hint of remorse perhaps we could have healed this wound but you have made it abundantly clear that you are not ashamed of your wrongdoings—)

Astoria's lips quirk up and she reaches forward, brushes a finger across the back of his hand, curled around his coffee cup. "You learn how to live," she says finally, softly. "It's easier when you're not doing it alone." Her finger slips to the underside of his wrist, settles over his pulse. Somehow, she thinks this is the most intimate they've been—her wearing his clothes, separated even temporarily by the room service cart and still finding ways to reach for each other. "You know, you sound like a storm?" She taps her finger lightly against his wrist. "It's the water in your blood. I hear it all the time. It's the same song as the last rain before a snowfall. I wish I knew another way to describe it. And at the risk of sounding as unbelievably lost over you as I am—like there's really any doubt at this point," she adds with a little snort of laughter, "—it's one of my favorite sounds in the world. I think if I listened, I could pick you out of a crowd of thousands.

"Truth is that I don't really know how to do this. I don't often feel safe with people." She's sure he understands that much. "And it's not that I think I'll get hurt. Hurt's a natural part of being alive. I just—I don't know how capable I am of it. Being honest with someone, caring about someone, it scares the shit out of me. I usually cut and run. And I'm not scared of you, of what we're doing, or what this means. I like that I know what your blood sounds like. I like that I sleep better with you than I ever have alone. I think that whatever else there is that we have to worry about, we're better together."

She's halfway to doodling their initials in the margins of her notebooks. Withdrawing her hand takes more effort than she thinks it should, and she sets her fork down in favor of curling both hands around her own cup and savoring the warmth. "Country-adjacent," she confirms with a smile. "Nineteenth-century farmhouse on nine acres of land. The last person to live there for more than a month was the woman whose husband built it. He died when she was about fifty and she stayed there another forty years. Everyone in town thought she was a witch. She absolutely was. She still haunts it—it's why I'm the first person to stay there this long. There's this gorgeous wraparound porch and it's surrounded by trees, and you can only get there by this old cobblestone road no one uses unless they're coming to see me. It's quiet. Not too far from the city, so when I need some noise I can reach it without fuss."

It's a sanctuary; she's had family visit, and a few clients of a more sensitive nature have come by to ask for her help, but by and large it's just her and the cats. She's never brought home a one night stand, never had a casual lover drop by. Even as she wonders if the house will like him, she knows it will. "We'll get you in flannel," she says with a little laugh. "Good, sturdy boots, too. Most of the land is undeveloped woodland—great for dancing naked under the moon and all that—and it's peaceful." Lonely, when it's just her. "And as long as you want to be there, it's yours. When the time comes to relocate, we can leave the states. I'm more attached to the company than the location, but you should know I'm a cat person, and I don't really see that changing." Her grin widens, and she wrinkles her nose. "Everything besides cats? I can be flexible."

There are a million more things she wants to say. She wants to tell him about what remains of her family, and that they'd love him. She wants to tell him that home will only be home if he's there, at this point, because it may have been a blink of an eye since they met but he's written himself into her bones, carved too deeply to ever extract. And she wants to thank him again for telling her, to try and make him understand that they'll find a way to deal with immortality. They should talk about the book, too, and how they plan to get it, and a thousand other things, but the last thing Astoria wants to do is get back to business when this is hanging over them. When she finishes eating and she downs the last of her coffee she scoots back on the bed and holds a hand out for him to take, so she can tug him closer. Even such a small distance between them feels unbearable.

"So." And the gravity of everything is beginning to occur to her, now, and she lets a delighted shiver shoot through her. "King Arthur, huh? Explains why your sword feels so—" She falls silent for a moment, searching for the right word. "—unique. Have any of the stories ever gotten it right?" She doesn't ask about Guinevere or Lancelot, though it strikes her suddenly that that's who they've spoken about, that Merlin was the tactician. Every conversation they've shared until now suddenly gains another layer, and she wonders how long it'll take for her to get used to it. "Should I start using a title? I feel like we should sort out just how much teasing is allowed. And for what it's worth—" Her smile widens, somehow. "—I do love being told what to do. I love a bit of authority."

It makes sense, though, that he's taken on such responsibility for so long. "Next question is," she says, voice gentle, "when was the last time you let somebody take care of you? And how much are you planning to let me do just that?"

#softersinned #✭ ㅤ interaction ㅤ ››› ㅤ for those who kiss the ring ㅤ .#✭ ㅤ main verse ㅤ ››› ㅤ we’re not meant to be alone ㅤ .

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todoscript · 4 years ago

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lilies & lilacs pt. i

SUMMARY: A dilemma with his grand charity gala brings Todoroki Shouto, CEO of Todoroki Enterprises, at your humble flower shop’s doorstep.

pairing: ceo!todoroki shouto x florist!reader

genre: eventual smut. fluff. slow burn. no quirks au.

word count: 5.6k+

warnings: none in this part, but expect sexual content in the future.

author’s note: this has been rotting in my wips for a couple of months now, but i finally decided to post it with the decision of progressing the story into parts. thank you to the lovely rosie aka @shoutogepi for initially betareading this and keeping the hype up for the fic in our chats together (love you <333)! feedback is welcomed and before you ask, im opening a taglist for the next 2 parts so just ask if you wish to be included

The uneasy padding of her boss’ dress shoes across the floor of his office made the secretary restless. She knew the bad news she delivered would cause some displeasure to stir within him, but never would she expect his tough bearings to falter, his troubles conveyed in hasty steps and frayed skin skewing those handsome features.

During the past two years she’s worked for him, she always thought his expression was nearly unreadable. When it came to his high position, her boss was forward and direct at conducting business—calm, stoic, and a perfect representation of efficiency and strong work ethic in his field. So while she witnessed the man’s uncharacteristic distress before her eyes, she wasn’t sure how this could end well for her.

Sweat began beading her forehead at the tension creeping between each tap of his feet against the hardwood below, coming to an unnerving halt behind his desk. When her eyes found his, all she could gather in those gray and turquoise clouds was annoyance toward their current predicament.

“What do you mean we don’t have a florist booked yet?” he repeated the dilemma she relayed to him merely moments ago. Hearing the agitation in his voice caused a nervous gulp to drop in her throat. She clutched her clipboard firmly in her arms to keep herself anchored in the wake of her boss’ growing frustration. However, she was still unsure how to continue as the words remained sealed in her mouth.

“Well?” Noticing his secretary’s lack of response, he pushed forward, hands leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk. The woman urged herself to endure the obstacles by first breathing through her nose before swallowing the lump in her throat, responding quickly.

“Um, Mr. Todoroki, sir, it seems all the florists on our list have all been booked for other events for the rest of the month,” she said, but mentally scolded herself when she heard herself sputter in such an unprofessional manner. Despite that, she prayed the explanation was enough to sate even a fraction of her boss’ inner turmoil.

Shouto approached her answer with silence before that foreseeable sigh left his lips, spilling with exasperation. He turned, his back facing the secretary, gaze lined to the windows gracing him with sunlight behind his desk. Stuck in contemplation, he pinched the bridge of his nose, mouth pursed in a firm line.

Where am I going to find a florist in time for this damn charity gala? He internally griped, closing his eyes as if that would help him uncover the solution to this untimely mess.

His esteemed company, Todoroki Enterprises, had arranged a plan to hold a widely anticipated charity gala by the end of this month. The event was conducted to raise funds for all manners of different charities that would vary in the level of grandeur on display. And given that the organizing for the event would be under his very name, Shouto had the critical responsibility of ensuring nothing but peak quality to those that would attend.

His staff had long procured the venue and were managing the layout of the gala. They sought out some suitable entertainment, booked catering, and scheduled for the charity auctions and raffles to take place throughout the night. What was still needed were the decorations, and right now that was where they hit their deadend with no florist currently reserved.

And here’s the real kicker: the gala was two weeks away.

Two. Weeks.

How he allowed for such errors to occur was beyond him at this point. All that really mattered was that he found a way to correct those mistakes and fast.

As much as Shouto figured he could skip past the flowers and substitute them with some other kind of flashy decorations, he already had a clear idea of how he wanted the gala to look. The floral arrangements would compliment the theme of the event exceedingly well. Turning back on the plan would be an insult to everyone’s prepared attire for the evening, with the dress code already sent out to all the distinguished guests invited to this grandiose ball. No doubt in his mind, he needed that florist, and needed them stat.

Sure on his resolution, he finally shifted to face his secretary. The anxious expression plastered on her face greeted him, and at that, Shouto bit his lip. His guilt surfaced for allowing his emotions to affect his workspace. He knew better than to take out his frivolous thoughts on his staff, who very well had no control over the situation. So he eased the atmosphere, attempting to lift the tension surrounding his office in the dreary gray of his temper.

“Nishiyama, I’m sorry for my behavior just now,” he apologized. The secretary, in turn, was taken aback, eyes widened. Her anxiety slowly whittled away as she scampered to return his kind gesture.

“Oh no, sir, it’s fine! I’m sure you were just feeling stressed hearing the news. I surely would be if I were in your shoes.”

“No, it’s not. I was acting childish despite how much you and everyone have done so far for the event,” Shouto said, “I should be thankful for your time, considering you also have a family to take care of at home.”

While the woman stared at him, abashed by his sincerity, Shouto swiveled his chair around to take a seat. A much-needed seat to be entirely honest. His secretary was not kidding about how the bad news seemed to harrow some stress in his body. But, being accustomed to having this weight pushed on his shoulders from the very moment he was announced the head of the company many years ago, he more than anticipated the stress to come with the job.

Shouto spared his secretary one last glance before his eyes darted down between the important papers sprawled on his desk. “If that’s all the news we needed to address today then you’re dismissed, Nishiyama. Carry on with the rest of the organizing as planned,” he ordered. Nishiyama lowered her clipboard to her hip.

“R-Right. Thank you, sir.” She parted his presence with a curt bow. Shouto picked up on her heels clicking toward his office door until they suddenly stopped altogether, looking back at the man midway. “What about the florist, sir?” she asked, concerned at the unresolved predicament lingering in the air. Her question wasn’t met with an immediate reply, but Shouto eventually gave her an answer he deemed adequate of a response. His words were coated with as much reassurance as he could muster in this situation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it myself.”

The task was easier said than done.

Usually, when it came to booking a florist for special occasions like this, you’d want to contact them months ahead of the scheduled date to ensure maximum efficiency and work out any problems that should arise. But there were only two weeks left until the awaited charity gala.

Shouto was certainly pushing his luck at this point and to a dangerous degree. If he didn’t find someone to arrange the flowers for the ball soon, the venue might be absent of all life and mood, essentially flopping from missing such a key element. Shouto could not allow for that to happen.

Given his word, he took it in his hands to rectify this mistake. For the entirety of the day, he sifted through the aforementioned list of florists his secretary had provided him—extended thanks to his team’s desperate search for more options.

All he had to do was narrow down the lineup. Unfortunately, those efforts may as well have been all for naught.

“Hello, is this Himawari’s Garden? I’d like to speak with the head florist there about arranging the flowers for a gala my company has been planning—”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we’re currently busy preparing for a big wedding coming up next week. If you’d like, I can try and book our services for you toward the next month or so when we’ll be available?”

Shouto’s brows tightened during the exchange—a gesture he’d been repeating as of late while he dwindled the line of florists. If he kept it up, those wrinkles might be embedded into his skin permanently. He was at least grateful he managed to thwart the heavy breath of air that threatened to leave his lips and reveal his frustration to the woman on the phone.

“No, that’s fine. Thank you for your time.” With that, he hung up.

Shouto leaned back in his seat in exasperation, his weight pressed into the cushions as his eyes situated themselves toward the ceiling. The consistent taps of his fingers on his mahogany desk were all he heard amidst his deep contemplation. His eyes lidded shut in an attempt to seek a moment of refuge from the stress, but his conscience began eating at him.

Of course, what was he thinking? The beginnings of spring to late autumns were the mark of wedding season—the time where florists and other businesses specializing in decorative arrangements thrived and busied themselves with eager clients. Not only that, but it was also the month of June. The sixth month of the year was undoubtedly the most popular month among couples to hold their weddings, and he had witnessed this fact firsthand through his myriad of fruitless phone calls.

Shouto had thoroughly wrung through his rope and teetered on the edge of complete defeat. He sealed down his most recent loss at the hand of another busy floral business by striking a line across Himawari’s Garden on his list. At that, the total tallied to thirty whole flower shops. Thirty unsuccessful attempts.

That sigh he contained during the phone call found its way out of his throat in dramatic waves of displeasure

“You alright, sir?”

His administrative assistant, Midoriya Izuku, heard his huffs when he entered the threshold of Shouto’s office. He noted his boss’ hunched posture and the rare crease crinkled between his nose bridge, pressed against his hands that were clenched together above his desk.

“I’m guessing the new list of florists was also a no-go?”

Shouto didn’t offer any words, instead sliding said list—now fully crossed out—toward his assistant as his reply. Craning his head for a better look, Midoriya feigned a smile, not wanting to let the man’s defeat consume the mood entirely.

“Well... I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised… Wedding season is upon us after all.”

Oh yes, Midoriya. Shouto knew that very well. So much so that he sunk further into his desk at the reminder, head practically drooped with a gloomy rain cloud hovering atop him. The green-haired assistant fervently shook his head back-and-forth upon realizing his remark had thrown salt into his wound. “Oh, I-I mean... Don’t worry, sir! I’m sure we’ll still be able to sort out this problem in time before the gala!” he sputtered to help alleviate the despair that crept in, but it came to no avail according to his boss’ silent sulky demeanor. That was when Midoriya remembered the two cups of hot coffee held in each of his hands.

“Ah, right, I made you some coffee! I figured you could use one considering you’ve been cooped up in your office all day.” Setting one in front of him, Shouto perked up at the nutty aroma that slowly slipped into his senses. He eyed the fresh cup of coffee tentatively, the steam flitting above it in wisps.

Lifting the cup, the rich smell wafted further into his nostrils, imbuing him with that familiar peace he usually reveled in. On any ordinary day, he’d be accompanied by his classic roasted blend perched on his desk, with no problems threatening to disturb his peaceful routine. Not anything like today. Not anything like this dilemma of a desperate time crunch for a florist.

Perhaps that was what he needed. A filter of caffeine to wash away the ordeal like it was a bad morning plaguing him with baggy under-eyes and fatigue from a previous day of hard work. Though he’s sure not even caffeine could erase the headaches he developed throughout his day so far. If anything, indulgence would just make those headaches worse.

Nonetheless, he welcomed the smooth blend of flavors that ebbed down his throat through modest sips, rejuvenation quickly oozing in his veins. Headaches or not, the stimulation from the caffeine was essential if he wanted to combat the rest of the day with some drive.

“Thanks, Midoriya. I needed that,” Shouto acknowledged. He nodded at his assistant, who rubbed the back of his head modestly, saying how it was no problem at all, but the way his boss suddenly got up from his seat interrupted his words.

Shouto already felt the strong coffee going to work as his steps picked up in long strides around his desk that had the assistant’s brows knitting together, confused. “Where are you going, sir?” Midoriya asked, his voice sounding more distant to Shouto, who continued his way past him and toward the door.

“A quick drive,” was the blatant answer he gave. He downed the last of the cup before tossing it in the trash bin near the exit of his office. “Something to clear my head a bit. I’ll be back soon, but until then, keep reaching out to any businesses that could potentially be available to help us.”

“Yes, of course, sir! You can count on me!” Midoriya was prompt in replying. As expected, being Shouto’s right-hand man at the company.

With that, Shouto took to the parking lot below his building, twirling his keys over his index finger before hopping into his Mercedes and driving off.

The withering sunlight cast its glare over his car during his ride through the city. By now, the skies splayed vibrant red as the sun gandered above the horizon. He drove down the narrow and busy streets that kept the place bustling at these hours. It was likely the time when people finished up their workday and were eager to arrive home for much-needed rest.

During a particularly long wait at a red traffic light, he pondered over his predicament again. His thumb rapped against the steering wheel while he bit his bottom lip, that ugly feeling of regret seeping into his thoughts.

Maybe he placed too much faith in these flowers after all. Sure, he mentioned the vital role they played in aligning with the theme and complimenting the guests’ attires. But was it worth all the trouble he put his team through, searching through a throng of businesses already busy with their own events to organize? In a way, this could’ve been sorted out had he recognized the current times and planned accordingly to avoid the mess. But now they were trapped in this bind, crunching for anyone that could help them within only fourteen short days.

Just as he weighed the idea of calling Midoriya over the bluetooth in his car to drop the floral arrangements altogether, something caught his eye at the last second.

Shouto peered through his window, squinting at the corner, where he spotted a cart of flowers in front of a shop of some sort. His grip tightened around the leather of his steering wheel as he leaned in for a better look. Some kind of spark in him roused his anticipation the more he shifted forward in his seat, like the hope that was slowly fading inside was igniting once again.

Another inch further and he attained a better look of the shop. Its sign came into view just below the small boundary of his window—letters brushed in calligraphy on a long board of canvas with lilies painted on the edges that seamed together into a bouquet.

N… Neigh… Neighborhood Lily.

He deciphered the words, but didn’t give them much thought. All that enveloped his mind afterward was the fact the name wasn’t any of the list of thirty shops he phoned today. So the very moment the light overhead flickered to green, Shouto’s hold on the wheel tightened. His foot gradually stepped on the pedal with much more purpose.

He decided to take a brief detour from this casual little drive of his.

It was about six o’clock when you waved off your latest customer, who was leaving the shop with a basket of vibrant tulips swinging on their arm. The smile on their face was an adamant indication they were more than happy with their time here, something you always delighted in, being very passionate about your job as a florist.

“Thank you, and please come again!” The bell overhead gave a gracious chime at the customer’s departure.

With them gone, you drew your attention back to the flowers laid out on the small wooden table in the corner of the shop. Before the customer came in, you were at work arranging and crafting the blossoms you purchased from the flower market that morning into bouquets.

You’d be closing in about an hour and thirty minutes or so, but for now, you basked in the silence and the calming aroma of the flowers that surrounded you while you continued your work. A modest hum naturally sang past your lips and soothed its way into the shop that was devoid of all souls except yourself.

“Hm, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” You made some small talk with the rose in your hand. It was a habit of yours to spill a few words out within your own little world, imagining the flowers were keeping you company whenever you were alone.

“And there, now you all look even prettier.” An adoring smile embellished your lips as you finished off another bouquet by tying it with a silk ribbon. Looking over the bundle one more time, you thoroughly admired the shades of pinks and reds that complimented each other in the ensemble.

Then two more bouquets down, and you already made a good amount of progress. You figured that if you kept up the pace, you’d likely finish the rest of the batch and have them ready for display tomorrow. But just as you clasped three more flowers in your hand, the bell atop the door chimed, alerting you to a new patron.

You nicked off a thorn from one of the stems before turning around and giving your attention to the visitor. When your eyes found their way to the shop’s entrance, you were surprised to meet a man of slicked white and red hair. The few strands that found their way out of the gel must have been tussled from a long day of work considering the fatigue plain on his handsome face.

Despite the few wrinkles here and there, his attire was still surprisingly pristine. He wore a simple yet compelling suit, the fit seeming tailored to the contours of his body that rendered you a tad speechless at how good he looked just standing there. The sight almost made you feel underdressed.

You hadn’t realized you were staring for longer than you deemed appropriate. You couldn’t help it, being that the stranger was a stark contrast to the regular customers you were used to. The fanciest you’ve encountered since you opened your shop were the young boys that rushed in with nicely fitted tops and jeans, frantically inquiring about what kinds of flowers were right to give to a girl for a date they had later that day. Not anything like attractive businessmen in immaculate suits and shining silver wristwatches that surely cost more than all the flowers you tended here.

Noticing you were gawking, you blinked thrice to knock yourself out of your trance and properly greet the man.

“H-Hello, welcome to Neighborhood Lily,” you said, mustering the politest tone you could give to make up for the awkward moment of wordless eye contact. You must have kept your eyes on him for what felt like a good five minutes at least. The man, in turn, acknowledged you with a small grin, much to your relief.

“How may I help you this evening?”

“I’m…” he hesitated, seeming wary of how he wanted to go about his next choice of words, “just looking for now,” he decided.

Not paying much mind to his hesitation, you nodded. “Oh, well, if you have any questions or need any help on anything, please let me know. I’ll just be around the corner!”

Allowing him to go about his business, you returned to your table of flowers and oversaw the blossoms again. However, it was difficult for you to busy yourself with the task at hand. The mere thought of the other presence in the shop was enough to hammer you out of your concentration.

He was already a compelling figure on his own, what with his good-looks accompanied by his classy ensemble that felt more than out of place here. But what you were especially curious about was what business he had at a humble flower shop like yours during this hour.

That curiosity led your eyes straying to the side, where you peeped the man walking through the small aisle of flowers. He examined the bouquets and vases on display, even showing interest in the more decorative pieces hung in pots from the ceiling.

You tried to determine what his motives were. He was showing some considerable intrigue at your arrangements, though perhaps it was pure admiration for your work, and you were letting your self-consciousness get to you.

Well, spying would just get you nowhere, you thought. One way or another, he’d answer your curiosity by either coming to you directly or leave the shop altogether. You had to admit you hoped more for the former.

Until then, you tore your gaze away and resumed gathering flowers in your hands. You assessed their compatibility with one another while you fiddled around with their placement in the bouquet. The white lilies and the blue lilacs went very well, along with another set of light violet lilacs you couldn’t help but string into the bundle. As a result, the beautiful balance of cool tones made for an exceptional well-made bouquet. You finished the piece with a matching white satin ribbon and then let the arranged flowers thrive inside a glass vase.

“Those are very pretty.”

Startled at the voice, you whipped your head around, hands braced behind you against the edge of the wooden table. Your untimely lack of words were a result from realizing the owner of the voice was closer than you anticipated.

The businessman went from lingering around the aisle of flowers in the middle of the shop, to appearing in your proximity.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked, wondering if you heard correctly to which he pointed at the bouquets laid finished on the table. “In fact, all the flowers here are exceptionally beautiful.” He gestured to the entirety of the shop. His eyes quickly roamed across all the decorative flourishes before they came back to you.

“You do excellent work here in your shop.”

Words coming from a man like him made you bashful. You subconsciously played with the hem of your apron, eyes drifting to anywhere but his face at the compliment. However, the sliver of heat fluttering to your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, um, thank you. It’s nothing really, I’ve been arranging flowers for quite some time while at the last floristry I worked for so I have a fair amount of experience.”

After another second of fiddling with the fabric, your hands ended up falling to your sides. You sauntered toward one of the flower vases that were already set on display, dawdling around the conversation. His eyes followed you, watching you nurture the blossoms. “I opened this flower shop of mine just recently actually. Been getting a decent amount of business here and there, but I’m just glad that the people who’ve visited so far like my work,” you told him, twirling a strand of your hair. The pads of your other hand brushed against the soft, abundant petals of a yellow chrysanthemum.

The man observed your actions, analyzing your face. He distinguished the devotion hidden in your eyes as you looked upon the flower with a luster. Despite your humble character, it was more than clear to him you were very passionate about what you did, relishing in the ambiance and admiring the modest appearance of this little shop of yours, covered in the wonderful aroma of flowers.

You didn’t detect that deep breath of air he earnestly drew in as he stepped closer. So close that his proximity broke your stupor to meet his rigid expression.

“How would you feel about an… opportunity to let more of your work be known?”

“An opportunity?” you echoed. “Wait… do you maybe have a wed—”

“No,” he interjected, so abruptly that you couldn’t help but quirk a brow. Catching himself, he took a moment to clear his throat, mindful of his behavior. “I mean, it’s not a wedding. Rather, a charity gala that my company has been planning for some time.”

“A gala?” Your mouth worked faster than your mind, accidentally blurting out your thoughts. The astonishment was evident in your tone; it made the man question your reaction by leaning in.

“Yes, a gala,” he said again like you didn’t just hear his words from a foot away, without even realizing the lengths behind his baffling offer. “Is there something wrong about that?”

“N-No. It just wasn’t the kind of opportunity I expected it to be is all… A gala…” Your voice hushed around the utter of “gala”.

What the man presented so blatantly was unexpected to your ears. Galas meant a pompous party full of people decked in lavish attires, drinking quality champagne from tulip glasses. Sizing up the man again, you could only imagine this gala would only include the most important and wealthiest people in attendance.

You had to ask something, “Um, about this gala... How many people will be there?”

“Maybe about... five hundred or so? I’ll have to check in with my assistant to confirm the full count again.” He shrugged nonchalantly and yet on your end, hearing the number almost reduced your head to a dizzy mess.

Five hundred guests? It was a number you couldn’t fathom. You hadn’t even been booked for an occasion as ordinary as a baby shower, but this man wanted you to arrange flowers for his big charity gala?

As oddly enticing of a job it was to you, there had to be anyone else more experienced and capable for this.

“Sir, I’m not su—”

“The pay, of course, will be more than generous, and I’ll even provide you funding for any necessary materials for this project,” he chimed in before you could voice your protest. It was then that you began to distinguish something laced in his voice and exhibited on his face.

Desperation.

This man seemed desperate for some reason.

“May I ask when the event will take place?” Your arms crossed against your chest. A gulp formed in his throat at the question, unsure if he wanted to unveil the news or risk scaring you off. Either way, if you were working for him, you’d learn eventually. A sigh came out.

“Two weeks,” he answered.

Oh yeah, that explained it. It also answered any questions you had over the tension rigid in his shoulders. At this point, you were bound to join him in his stress because, goddamn, organizing a whole assembly of flowers for a grand ball within fourteen days? The idea was beyond daunting.

While you reflected on the intimidating pieces of information, he was gauging your reaction. Would you say yes? No? Laugh at the idea that he thought he could find a florist to work for him at such late notice? There were a slew of uncertainties twisting in his head—an act unbecoming of him, but you were his last hope. Whatever you responded with next would either be the nail in his coffin or the wings that made him soar.

You would be treading on uncharted waters at a chance like this, having never sailed anywhere beyond your little island of floristry where people came and went with your humble little arrangements. But you also thought of this as a daring opportunity to find new land. See what the world had in store for you outside of selling the general bouquets and vases you had on display. Plus, when would a chance like this ever come up again?

Though it meant encountering difficulties along the way, taking on such a big challenge right off the bat, you figured you’d be able to keep your boat afloat. You were also sure the journey toward bigger regions would be worth the struggle in the end.

“So do you have your answer?” he pressed forward when your silence became unbearable to his nerves. He thanked the fact that his voice managed to sound steady enough not to give himself away. Your arms remained crossed in front of you, your hand coming beneath your chin the only sign that you were taking his offer to heart. It kept the flickering flames of hope blazing inside him.

“I just want to ask you something,” you replied. He nodded, allowing you to continue.

“I know you’re under pressure with this gala coming up in only two weeks,” you began. Your arms unraveled, and your fingers ran to your apron again. You formed the next bit of words with uncertainty, “but are you sure I’m the right person for this job? I mean, I don’t have much to offer you in terms of skill other than what I have here.” You nudged at the range of your shop, plain as can be though with a generous amount of flourishes on display. Yet nothing you thought special enough to be graced by him and his grand proposal that evening.

“I just don’t want you to regret your decision.”

There was a pause of silence after that. The man seemed to give your words some thought—a quick reflection on the situation. You couldn’t decipher much in his face, but you happened to take some time to admire how pretty his eyes were. The individual blue and gray shades were mesmerizing to you, resembling glaciers glittering beneath the moon high in the north. Another detail you jotted in his long list of attractive features. Before you could marvel at them any further, he whisked your thoughts back to earth with his response.

“It’s true that I’m coming to you because I’m in need,” he admitted, hands slowly closing into fists like he was reluctant to confess this, “but from what I can see, I genuinely think you’re more than capable for this job. So yes, I’m very sure I won’t regret this decision.”

It was clear to you that he was sure on his stance. But to reinforce his statement, he bent his head low into a bow, weight added to his next words.

“Please be the florist for our gala.”

The gesture briefly overwhelmed you, not something you were expecting, but you managed to acknowledge it by returning the bow.

“I’ll be in your care then.”

With all things said, you were soon tidying up the exchange and trading business cards. Yours was a standard card with your number, name, and business attached with a picture of a lily printed across the paper. His, a premium slip of stainless steel engraved with his information and then some, the fancy card reflecting off the lights hanging from the ceiling. You read the name etched in ebony black over the gray material.

Todoroki Shouto — CEO

“You’ll likely receive a call from either one of my assistants or me within the next day or so about when to meet up to plan for the arrangements.” Shouto’s voice brought your head up from the card, where you watched him glide toward the door.

“R-Right, I’ll leave my cell on,” you stuttered. The fact that this whole exchange had just transpired was still kicking in for you.

Shouto nodded, extending a wave out that you mirrored while he opened the door to the shop, the bell chiming above him.

“I’ll see you then.”

After that, the resonating tinkles of the bell were the last you heard.

You stared at the entrance aimlessly, mouth gradually gaping open at the mere prospect that you were really about to arrange your flowers for a grand charity gala in two weeks!

A mixture of elation and jitters erupted in your body all at once, uncontained as you whipped your head around and strode across your shop in giddy steps. Your eyes lit up at the steel card gripped between your fingers, clenched so tightly like you were worried the card would turn to dust when you woke up from this dream. But at the wide smile that bloomed on your lips, you knew that this was reality. This man, Todoroki Shouto, was giving you the opportunity to have your true potential shown at this big gala.

Meanwhile, on his way back to his Mercedes, Shouto was clicking open his phone. The screen beamed at him in the low light of the evening turning to night while he punched a number from his contacts list. It took only the cusp of the second ring for the person on the other line to pick up his call.

“Midoriya, call off the search,” Shouto commanded into his phone. He rested his back on the door of his car, leaning against it with his phone still attached to his ear. His gaze found its way back to the flower shop he had just departed, eyeing the light emitting from the windows to the sign hanging above them. Grinning, he took in the sight of the flowers dancing in the wind around the shop’s vicinity before finding your silhouette standing in the benevolent light inside.

“We have our florist.”

#bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha imagine #todoroki shouto x reader #mha x reader #bnha fic #todoroki fic #todoroki imagine

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