#though I still prefer 3rd pov

[winterarmyy]

Plot Twist | Part I

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Run-through: I just need to get this out of my system. Most of arranged marriage mob/mafia!au I've read has a strong/bratty reader. And a really mean/asshole Bucky. Which is absolutely fine btw but its getting repetitive for me. I wanted to see a reader who's actually soft but fierce when she wants to be. And Bucky who is generally cold and seems to be married to his job but notices small things that the reader do, thus subconsciously started to care about her. They don’t hate each other, nor do they are infatuated. I don’t know if this exist, so I decided write it myself just in case. Enjoy!

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 1.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just fluffy and wholesome stuff here. Nothing graphic or explicit.

P/S: I like to write in 3rd pov btw. There's a few mentions of y/n sometimes too. Beware of the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. This might be 2-3 parts type of fic, so tell me what you think so far.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

“He's late.”

The soft clinking sounds of his rings colliding with each other and onto the dresser woke her up from her deep slumber. Though her body remained still, her mind continued to wonder,

“Late. Again.”  She thought.

The sound of fabrics rustling about hinted her of what was happening beyond her closed eyes. The shut of the bathroom door confirmed her speculations.

“So, what if he came back home late? Why does it concern you?” She questioned herself.

Only a fool would believe if she said that she didn't care at all about the whereabout and well-being of this man. He is her husband after all.

Six months ago, she stood on the alter with that man. They swore an oath. They sealed the kiss. He was hers and she was his.

James Buchanan Barnes; Bucky was what he preferred to called. He is what every man wants to become, and every woman wants to be with.

An Adonis of a man; impossibly tall, 6'5"; body armored with thick layer of muscles. Bucky is huge, that if he trapped her against the wall, she might just see the resemblance of him to a grizzly bear. His dark hair flowed just above his shoulder and his steel blue eyes were as cold as his personality.

Though she wouldn't compare him to a frozen blizzard during the winter, he was more like the first day of snow, when the white flakes started to fall.

Cold enough to make you shiver and warm enough to lure you out but most importantly, obscenely beautiful.

However, of course, the main reason of the marriage set up by her father was not because of how beautiful he is, but to fulfil his hunger for power. As if the territories that their family has wasn't enough, her father arranged this union to extend his reign.

Y/N protested at first but knew better than to fight against her father. Being raised in such family, at a very young age she learned to think always ahead; pass the emotions and intuitions. What's the rational and logical way to solve a problem.

Took her a week to wrap her head around the matter, research about Barnes and go through the agreement between her father and her then husband to be. Barnes had listed some main demands regarding the union and although most of them were about their business, but one particular demand had caught her attention.

“After marriage, the couple must be faithful to one another. Any romantic/sexual relationships prior must be severed/resolved immediately. Failed to do so will result to termination of the contract.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” She thought.

Not that she was in any relationship at the time, and all the research result to possibly positive outcome. So, in the end, she complied.

Which then explained why she was sleeping in Bucky's bed six months later.

“I know you're awake.” Bucky's gravel voice startled her internal thoughts. She could feel the indentation of the mattress on his side of the bed, the fresh and clean scent wafting from him. She nearly purred from a sniff of it.

She slowly opened her eyes as if she was trying to peep and god what a sight to see after a restless sleep; Bucky's idea of pajamas was basic pants and nothing above and Y/N didn’t know what to feel about that. Does she hate it? Absolutely not. Does she like it? Well, he is easy on the eye indeed.

The room was dimly lit, but she could see his slightly damp hair; it looked longer than it is dry. Her eyes followed the outline of his body leaning against the bed. The soft light reflected on his metal arm particularly follows the gold lines decorating the dark surface.

She often had intrusive thoughts of tracing the lines; what would it feel like against her fingertips. Does he feel anything? Is it cold? Will it feel good? 

“You do know that it’s a waste your time to wait for me, right?” He huffed a heavy breath. She could hear the fatigue in his sigh.

And how does Bucky know that she waited for him before admitting her defeat to the drowsiness? Somehow, Bucky always managed to know things, to the littlest matter, even when he’s million miles across the world.

Just like when she found a copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bed a few months ago. The day before she received it, her copy was drenched in coffee; a young woman bumped into her in front of the café she often visit. He was in Russia that time. “Was it Clint? Did he tell Bucky?” she wondered.

“Whoever said I was waiting for you?” She scoffed, yet if the room was well lit enough, Bucky would’ve seen how playful her expression was.

He hummed a deep voice, “Hmm.” there’s a hint of doubt in his tone.

Y/N quickly follow her previous sentence, “I was simply enjoying my reading, that I lost track of time.” She shifted to face him and tucked herself further into the blanket, hiding the lower half of her face as she looked up at him. She wondered if he could tell that she was smiling just from her eyes.

Bucky’s gaze remained still on her, as if he was trying to reach into her soul, before he leaned closer to peek on the book on the table. Pride and Prejudice written on it.

He chuckled, which was rare. At the least the real ones are.

Of course, she had seen him smile and laugh countless of time. Especially during those gala they often attend. But those were just another set of armor he wore on a daily basis.

Bucky tried to bite back a smile, sinking his teeth into his lower lip, “Lost track of time, huh?” Yet, somehow Y/N can hear the smile in his tone.

“A good read?” he asked as if he did not know why his wife brought up about the book. She never said anything about the gift; not a thank you or a complaint. 

She simply cherish it in her own way. He heard from Clint that she rearranged her whole bookshelf just to make space for the book he gave her. Maybe this was her way of saying thank you.

He had been giving her books every week, since.

She pulled the blanket away from her face, lips curled into a genuine smile, “Always.”

Bucky preened to her reply before suddenly, “Okay, enough chit chat. It’s late.” he said almost monotone sounded, as he made himself comfortable under the blanket.

Before she could overthink of what went wrong, why the sudden drop of chemistry; that was when she felt his hand roamed to find hers. Bucky brought her palm closer to his face, she could feel his hot breath against her cold skin. 

He leaned his lips on her palm, leaving a soft and tender kiss as he mumbled, “Goodnight, doll.”

Rush of red shades bloomed on her cheeks, before caving into the feeling of his stubble on her hand. She gently caresses the side of his cheeks, hoping it soothes him to sleep. 

The corners of her lips curved upwards into a smile, "See? Like, the first day of snow."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: It’s my first fic so... share your thoughts? ily 🤍

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Can't Loose You Too

Request: okay hear me out please 🤞 what if the reader got captured by the grounders and bellamy freaks out but their not like a thing yet so like friends to loverss(ish) and he gets them back and spills his feelings cause he’s scared he could lose them 🤷🏻‍♀️ if you don’t have time or just don’t wanna write this do not feel pressured to at all 💕💕 - @ravenmedows

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: So I wrote this to be set in between S1 and S2. I feel like it just fit the best because relationships were established. I also wrote in Bellamy's POV, to help show Bellamy's emotions and his side. Although it's more like a 3rd person view. I hope you enjoy reading!

You’re assigned to go patrol and hunt around Arkadia, even though it was your least favorite assignment. It was more bearable by the fact that you’d be doing it with your friends. While most of the adults didn’t want you guys to exactly pursue Clarke, you guys had used patroling as an excuse to get any information you could. 

You head to the garage to find and meet up with everyone,”Hey, where are we headed this time?” You ask walking up to Bellamy.

“Sector 7,” He responds.

“Again? We should try looking somewhere else,” You say, knowing that you’ve had no luck in that sector.

“Sector 7 is our best chance. Besides that’s where we were assigned,” Bellamy says sternly.

“Fine,” You respond and head outside.

“Where’s she going?” Monty asks as you walk off. You head towards the horse stables and find Octavia getting her horse ready to head out.

“Don’t wanna ride in the Rover?” Octavia asks as you head to tend to your horse, Archer.

“You know I prefer to ride on the back of a horse,” You chuckle. 

You gather everything else that you need, water, your knives, and a bow and arrows. You and Octavia head out and meet everyone else at the front of the garage. Once it looked like they were ready you all ride out to Sector 7. You all make it to the edge of the forest, you stop and tie Archer up to the Rover.

“Alright everyone, you know the drill. Stay in pairs, don’t stray too far from the group, and radio if you find anything suspicious,” Bellamy says. You stick with Octavia and all head into the forest.

It seemed pretty quiet for the first few moments, until you heard a hog in the distance. You signal Octavia to let her know where you were going. After a few feet you see the hog in your view. You prepare your arrow and aim. As soon as you release your arrow, you felt a stinging pain in the back of your thigh. You felt the area and it wasa knife lodge into your leg. Before you could process anything else, you feel yourself picked up by someone on a horse. At first you thought it was Octavia but as soon as you looked up, it was a grounder.  You scream out trying to warn your friends, knowing there was more grounders around.

~ Bellamy’s POV ~

As Bellamy was looking around for anything to hunt, he hears a scream in the distance. Somehow he immediately knew that it was Y/N. He and everyone else, ran towards the scream, not caring that there may be more danger in the area. Soon enough Y/N with a grounder on the back of a horse, came into view. He started to run faster towards them as a horn warning was blown. But he didn’t stop until Octavia started to pull him away.

“Stop struggling,” Octavia strains trying to keep a hold onto her brother.

“We have to help them,” Bellamy yells.

“We can’t help them if we’re dead,” Monty says, jumping in to help Octavia and pull Bellamy to safety. They weren’t sure what the horn was blown for, since the acid fog was disabled, but it couldn’t have been good.  Soon enough it sounded like there were even more grounders out in the forest.

~ Y/N’s POV ~

You started to fade from the loss of blood, but the sound of a horn woke you up again. The grounder starts to ride faster until you got to an enclosed cave. They dismounted their horse and set you on the ground. You stayed silent and still not knowing what would happen next.  They took you off of the horse and set you on the ground. Next, they took the knife out of your leg, wrapped the wound up and bounded your hands. You could hear what sounded like a thousand footsteps and hooves outside the cave.

A few hours went by and your were suddenly woken up by a group of grounders making their way into the cave. At first they were communicating in Trig only, where you could only pick out a few phrases. “Did Azgeda hear or see you?” You pick out from the conversation between the grounders. 

“What’s your name, sky person?” One of the grounders then asked, you stayed silent. They asked once more, but you stayed silent again. Frustrated they gag you and put a bag over your head. Your body is then lifted and put onto a horse. 

What feels like a couple hours go by and you finally slow down to a stop. You were picked up once more and plopped onto the ground. The bag was taken off your head and you were greeted by the bright sunlight and a metal door slamming. A few more grueling hours went by until someone finally came and brought you food. 

They shoved it under the door and pulled up a chair. You didn’t touch the food and the grounder took notice, “Eat,” He says. You refused to take food from them, didn’t want to risk  being poisened. “What’s your name?” He asks next.

You kept your mouth shut, not wanting to give them anything. You weren’t exactly sure why grounders would be aggressive towards you and your people again, it seemed like Clarke had made sure that they wouldn’t be a nuisance again.

~ Bellamy’s POV ~ 

The whole ride back to Arkadia was completely silent. Bellamy couldn’t help but think of how he lost Clarke but also you now. Once the rover had pulled into the garage, Bellmay immediately got out.

“Where are you going?” Monty asks. Bellamy doesn’t respond and keeps walking away. Octavia follows after her brother into the map room.

“Bell…Hey Bell?” Octavia asks trying to get her brothers attention. He ignores Octavia and looks at the map to see where Y/N could’ve possibly been taken. “Bellamy?!” Ocatavia says once more pulling the rolling board away from him.

“What?!” Bellamy responds angrily.

“Slow down,” Octavia tells her brother.

“I can’t. Not while Y/N is out there,” Bellamy says.

“You can for a moment. Y/N is strong they’ll be ok until we can find them. Let’s just rest and figure a game plan. Not rush into things,” Octavia logically explains to Bellamy.

“What other grounder clans were we close by?” Bellamy says completely ignoring his sister.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Octavia questions.

“Look Octavia. Clarke is out god knows where and now Y/N has been kidnapped by grounders.  I can’t just sit here and do nothing. We need to find them before anything bad happens,” Bellamy says walking back over to the map board. 

“I’m not saying we do nothing. I’m just saying that we slow down and figure out the best plan of action instead of rushing into things,” Octavia says.

“You’re right. I’m just– just worried about them,” Bellamy sighs.

“I am too. Let’s go get some food and chat with the others,” Octavia leads Bellamy to the mess hall.

~ Y/N’S POV ~

It’s day two since you’d been captured. You hadn’t eaten a thing or given up any information. In fact you hadn’t talked at all. They just kept asking for your name and what you knew about Wanheda. You had no clue who in the hell Wanheda was. 

“Eat,” The man says bringing you more food and taking the old food out. After a few minutes another man comes barreling in, he says something in Trig that you couldn’t understand before coming up to the bars.

“You’re not gonna talk, huh?” the man says before opening the door and yanks you out of the cell. You’re pulled over to a pole and have your hands bound around it.

“Where is Wanheda?” The man asks. You stay silent. Next thing you know you feel a punch to your stomach. The man asks the same question over and over again, with the same result, no words and some form punishment.

The man still received no answers from you by the time to sun set. They left you bound to the pole, you guess so that they can try to get answers out of you tomorrow. You still couldn’t imagine why they’d think you know something about someone named Wanheda.

~Bellamy’s POV~

It had been a long past two days inspecting the maps and going out to scout for Y/N. Bellamy has gotten barely any sleep. He’s at a loss of where Y/N could possibly be.

“Bellamy you need to sleep,” Octavia says.

“No,  I’m close. There’s only so many places left that Y/N could be,” Bellamy says, blinking his eyes to stay awake.

“I’ll sort the areas. Go get some sleep. If we want to find them, I need you at 100%,” Octavia scoots her brother out of his chair.

“Fine, but were going out first thing in the morning,” Bellamy says exiting the room.

The next morning Bellamy finds Octavia passed out at the desk, “Hey, how long were you up?” Bellamy asked his sister.

“Oh hey, uhhh I’m not sure. But I think I’ve figured out where Y/N might be,” Octavia says.

“Where?” Bellamy asks excitedly.

“Well, I remembered that Lincoln told me about this small village that was just outside of Trikru’s territory. They kind of outcasted themselves, not super friendly to outsiders,” Octavia explains.

“Let’s head out,” Bellamy says and goes to gather everyone. As everyone begins to head out they notice a group of people standing at the gate. Of course it was none other than Kane, Abby and a few other adults.

“Where are you going?” Kane asks the group.

“To find Y/N,” Bellamy answers.

“We think you’ve all spent enough time. I think it’s time we handle this before one of you is also taken or hurt,” Kane responds back.

“We know where they are, we can get them,” Bellamy fought back.

“Go back to your jobs,” Kane says in response. 

At first no one budged until Abby spoke up, “Now, unless you all want citations.”  

“Bellamy,” Kane stops him before he could get too far. “Show me where you think Y/N is,” Kane says walking with Bellamy to the map room.

About an hour went by and it had looked like the adults had taken a group out to find Y/N. After another hour or so, the group gathered and snuck out to really find Y/N. As Bellamy had directed Kane’s people in the opposite direction.

~ Y/N’s POV ~ 

The next day you were so weak front being forced to stand up. To your surprise you were woken up by someone tipping a cup of water to your mouth. Next they fed you some fruit, you tried to resist but they kept pressing the fruit to your mouth.

“You ready to give us some answers?” The man from yesterday asked. Again you kept your mouth shut. A few more hours of interrogation go by, but this time the man keeps his hands to himself. As if he was trying to give you a break.

“Someones here for you,” A woman says to the man after a few hours go by. The man reluctantly leaves the area to investigate. 

You stand there with weak legs trying to keep your body up. As you were about to pass out you feel gentle hands touch your cheeks. You flutter your eyes open and see a worried Octavia inspecting you. She quickly moves to unbound your hands, as soon as you’re unbound, your body just buckles underneath you. Before you hit the ground your body is lifted, you look up and see a just as worried Bellamy. 

“We need to get them back to camp quickly. They’ve lost a lot of blood and are weak,” Octavia says hastily. 

Ater a long trek back to Arkadia, you can see that you’re being greeted with a group of adults from inside the gates, “Told you we could find her,” Bellamy says walking past Abby and Kane.

“Take her to medical,” Abby says quickly noticing your condition. Bellamy gently walks you to medical and lays on top of a gurney. Abby comes to inspect your injuries, “Everyone out,” Abby orders your friends to leave. At first you could see they were reluctant before Abby begins to shuffle them out.

~ Bellamy’s POV ~

Bellamy waits anxiously from outside medical. After a few hours go by, he couldn’t wait any longer and decides to make his way into the ward. Abby greets him before he could make his way through the door.

“I figured you’d be anxious to see how she is,” Abby says stopping him.

“H–How is she?” He struggles to get out.

“They’ve sustained a lot of injuries, are dehydrated and lost quite a bit of blood. But they should be ok. But they can’t leave the ward for at least a day or two, I’d like to keep an eye on them. After that they should stay inside Arkadia,” Abby tells Bellamy. 

“Can I see them?” Bellamy asks.

“They’re asleep and needs to rest. Maybe tomorrow,” Abby tells Bellamy and points him to the exit. 

~ Y/N’s POV ~

You blink your eyes open and blinded by the brighter lights of the room. You lift your head and look around. Landing your eyes on a Bellamy sitting in a chair with his eyes closed. As you make a bit more noise by sitting up, Bellamy opens his eyes and moves to the cot. 

“Hey,” Bellamy speaks softly.

“Hey,” You say even quieter as if you had lost your voice. “How long was I asleep for?” You ask.

“About 10 hours,” Bellay answers, surprising you at the long length of time. “How are you doing?” Bellamy asks. 

Before you could respond, you see a mob of your friends approaching you. Each of them asking how you are and if you need anything. Soon enough Abby shuffles her way in, “Everyone out, she still needs to rest,” Abby says gently leading each of your friends out.

“How are you feeling?” Abby says approaching you as the last one leaves.

“Still tired and weak, but otherwise fine,” You say.

“Good, I’ll run some final tests and then you should be good to go,” Abby says. You spend the next hour with Abby inspecting your physical condition and asking you to do various tasks. “You’ve cleared all the tests. Although I still want you to take it easy, until you feel 100%. So that means no physically taxing work and staying inside Arkadia,” Abby tells you.

You were about to walk off until you realized that Abby wanted you to acknowledge her orders, “Ok,” you respond still trying to find your voice.

You head out of the ward and go to the mess hall, finding yourself very hungry after refusing food for several days. You try to find a quiet corner to eat but Monty had approached you. And you felt bad refusing to sit with him since you knew that your friends wanted to know you were ok. More of your friends slowly joined your table and soon enough it was a bit overwhelming. You get up and it seemed that everyone had noticed.

“Where are you going?” Jasper asks.

“I just wanted to go lay down for a bit,” You respond.

“Why don’t I walk you,” Jasper offers getting up from his seat.

“It’s ok. Thank though,” You say and walk off before anyone else could say anything.

The next day you went to go help out around Arkadia, sticking to the lowest impact type of work. Every few hours it seemed like one of your friends had something to say about resting or asking to help. It became to much and you didn’t like how they were trying to baby you. They knew that you know your limits, so you weren’t sure why they were being such helicopter friends. Once you were able to get away from your friends prying eyes, you head to the stables. You walk into Archer’s stable to see your horse for the first time since you were back. 

“Hey, I’m home, safe,” You say to comfort Archer.

You sat quietly with Archer until you hear soft footsteps approach, “I’m fine,” You say sternly as you hear the footsteps stop at the front of Archer’s stable, standing up as if you were about to leave. “Sorry,” You apologize looking up to see Bellamy. The one person who hasn’t been bothering you all day.

“It’s ok. I was just coming to check on Archer. But since you’re here, how are you feeling?” He asks walking into the stable.

“Fine,” you quickly answer.

“You sure?” He asks, clearly picking up on your attitude and moving closer to you.

You sigh heavily, “No. Everyone just keeps checking on me. I appreciate it but I’m feeling babied. I just want to rest and get back to 100% as soon as possible. They’re just stressing me out,” You admit.

“They just don’t want you to get hurt…anymore. Make sure that you’re recovering quickly, “ Bellamy advocates for your friends.

“I know but it just kinda feels suffocating,” You confess.

“I’ll let them know to back off a little,” Bellamy says, knowing that you’d appreciate that.

“Thanks, and for checking on Archer,” You say letting out a small smile.

A few hours later you were getting ready to sleep for the night. As you were just about to get in bed to relax, there’s a knock at your door. You open it and are greeted by Bellamy.

“Hey, what’s up?” You ask letting him in.

“I just wanted to check on you. I know what you said earlier, but I figured that I’d still make sure you were ok after your first full day back,” Bellamy says. You picked up the slightest quiver in his voice, leading you to believe that there was more.

“I'm feeling better. Thanks for talking to everyone,” You smile.

“Good,” Bellamy says awkwardly. He was about to walk out but stops himself, “Actually I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to earlier but I figured you needed your space,” Bellamy says referring to your hiding spot.

“What is it?” You ask curiously. 

“I’m sorry it took three days to find you. And that you went through all of that pain. I’m sorry that you were taken in the first place, it was my fault, I should’ve been more vigilant. And I’m sorry that I didn’t come see you sooner,” Bellamy lets out. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fact that he was blaming himself for what happened, blaming himself for the pain that was inflicted on you.

“Hey, hey, hey. None of this was your fault. You couldn’t have know that there were grounders there. You weren’t expected to know exactly where I was. What really matters is that you didn’t give up, you worked your ass off to find me, now I’m safe and home,” You say and find yourself swinging your arms over his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug. He seemed to have settled himself into your  body, as if he could finally relax. 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you too,” Bellamy confesses. 

You don’t respond to what Bellamy says, but pull out of your hug after a few minutes, finally taking a look at his face, “You look tired. Is it really true what Octavia told me? That you didn’t really sleep for the whole three days?” You ask as you can read how tired he is. He lightly nods his head, not wanting to admit it. 

You settle yourself into your bed, tired from standing so long, “ I just wanted to find you before anything bad happened,” Bellamy says, laying his body next to yours.

“That deosn’t mean that you had to put your own health at risk,” You say turning your body to face him. 

“I know, but I just needed you back. I missed you,” He softly speaks turning his head to face you.

“I missed you too,” You move to rest your head on his chest.

The next morning you wake up and turn over to find a peacefully sleeping Bellamy. You had almost forgotten that he never left. But you didn’t mind, it comforted you knowing that he stayed, “Morning,” You say softly after kissing his forehead to wake him up.

“Morning,” He says raspily with a smile forming.

[scribbledghost]

The Visitor - Part IV

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader (Vessel the character, not the real man behind the mask)

Rating: G

Word count: 1,738

Summary: Vessel and his visitor have a brief moment of respite.

Notes: 3rd person POV, use of she/her pronouns for reader. Fluff. Vessel fully leans into catching feelings. Part three can be found here.

Just as Vessel had expected, Sleep attempts to not only summon him as his visitor slept, but also attempts to invade her mind.

Vessel knows full well what Sleep's plan is - what its preferred modus operandi is. It will attempt to wear her down, forcing her to relive every painful moment of her life over and over again until she is desperate for any kind of relief. That is when Sleep will make her an offer; the same offer it made to Vessel himself, as well as the others: convert, and be renewed.

On the surface, it will seem crystalline. Genuine. An offer of help in such trying times. But it is nothing but a beautiful lie. Sleep will tell her that her visions will stop if she converts, but this could not be further from the truth. Vessel knows this first-hand.

So when he feels Sleep attempt to intrude on the woman's mind as she slumbers, he tightens his grip on her and uses every ounce of his power to force the entity away. He is soon engulfed by Sleep's visceral anger at his obstruction.

If you wish me to aid you in her conversion, she must trust me, he says sternly. I cannot earn her trust if she associates me with pain.

The rage he senses coming from his deity softens, but only slightly. In days past, he may have felt fear at earning such ire, but things are different now.

Circumstances have changed.

Vessel attempts to circumnavigate Sleep, swift in his arguments with the millennia-old pseudo-creature. He has been with Sleep for far too long, and as a result he knows when he can transgress boundaries and when he must acquiesce.

He always did have a silver tongue.

As the woman rests peacefully at his side, blissfully unaware of the tug-of-war happening next to her, Vessel does his best to convince Sleep that giving him complete freedom when it comes to her is necessary for her to convert.

She must still face her demons, he says, but you must allow me to aid her. If she views me as someone who will not harm her, it will be easier to ensure she becomes yours.

You act as though you have any say in the matter, Sleep responds coldly.

Your word is law, Vessel grovels, but I implore you to trust my judgement with this.

Sleep goes silent, though he knows it has not left him yet.

Have I ever broken my word before? Have I ever been anything but yours since my arrival?

Again, Sleep does not speak. But Vessel knows it is pondering its next words carefully.

And how do you plan on keeping your word this time, my vessel?

I will earn her trust, Vessel communes. Be kind to her. Help her when I can. I will be a light in the dark for her. Then, when the time comes for you to offer her a place amongst us, I will push her to agree.

So you will love her, Sleep corrects, then betray her.

Now it is Vessel's turn to retreat into silence. The first part of Sleep's accusation will be - and is - true. The latter portion, however, is not.

He guards his thoughts carefully, quietly hiding the bright flame of defiance stirring in the depths of him. If Sleep sees the slightest hint of a future deception, the deal will be off, and punishment will be swift. He shudders to think of what awful fate will befall his visitor should that happen.

Yes, Vessel says finally, doing everything in his power to seem convincing. If that is what it will take to ensure her safety, then that is what I will do.

Silence falls over the domain, an unsettling quiet blanketing the world. The only sound of life is the woman curled into Vessel's side quietly breathing in her sleep.

I will be watching.

It's all Sleep offers before Vessel no longer feels its presence.

Once he is certain Sleep has left him, he gently retreats into the mind of his visitor.

He finds her sitting alone atop a mountain, a sprawling landscape before her. Valleys and hills abound, interspersed with small lakes and rivers. A fine mist obscures much of the taller mountains, but the sun still shines across the realm despite it. The birdsong is gentle, and Vessel can almost feel the warmth of the sunshine.

Her own version of Eden, it seems.

She hears his approach, turning quickly to him. At first, she appears startled, but as soon as she lays eyes on him, her features melt into a smile.

"Vessel."

He has never heard his name sound so beautiful.

Vessel takes a seat on the grass next to her, wishing he could smell the crisp, clean air. He has not needed to breathe for many, many years now, but he still finds himself taking several deep, slow breaths.

He involuntarily tenses when he feels her shift closer to him. When she nearly backs away with apprehension, he reaches for her, laying a gentle hand on her back to hopefully draw her back in. Thankfully, she obliges, and Vessel once again tucks her against him.

"Can I ask you something?" she says quietly.

"Always."

"Do you... I mean... is your mask really just a mask? Or is it a part of you? I keep thinking I see the eyes blink sometimes, but I don't know if I'm just imagining things."

"It is... difficult to explain," Vessel begins. "It is indeed a mask, first of all. It is a sign of my devotion to Sleep. I can remove it at will, though I do not do so often. But it is also a part of me, connected to my body in a way I am unsure I could properly articulate. The eyes of my mask move with the eyes on my body - you were not imagining them blinking. And it stays connected to me without the aid of any sort of straps or fasteners. But I could not tell you how it does so."

"So, when did it become part of you?" she asks. "You've said before that you used to be human. Did the mask come when you... turned into a vessel? Or did it develop over time?"

"To be truthful, I am unsure," Vessel says, running a thumb along her upper arm. "It feels as though it has always been a part of me, though deep in my subconscious, I know that cannot be true. It has changed over the eons, and has not always looked like what you see now. But I cannot remember when it began to be something other than a simple mask."

She gives only a hum in response, falling quiet for a moment.

"I'm sorry," she says suddenly. "I know I'm asking a lot of questions."

She could continue to question him until the universe expands into infinity and Vessel would thank her for it.

"I will never disparage you for inquiring," Vessel says, gently leaning over to nudge her temple with his forehead before he can stop himself.

It's an almost intimate gesture, and he notices an almost imperceptible hitch in the woman's breath as he does so. He senses her heart rate increase, and vaguely he wonders how it would feel to replace his forehead with his lips against her.

But he does not. Instead, he pulls away, and immediately senses vague apprehension and confusion in his visitor.

"I apologize if I made you uncomfortable," he says. "I failed to consider if such an act would overstep."

"No," she blurts, then goes quiet again for a spell. "...No. You didn't overstep. It was... it was nice."

He smiles, then leans his head over to nudge her again.

The two of them stay there for some time, quietly soaking in each other's presence amongst the leaves of Eden.

"I'm scared to wake up," she admits softly.

"You have nothing to fear," Vessel says. "I will be by your side."

"...What happens when the visions come again?" she asks.

"I will be by your side for those as well."

"But you can't stop them," she says, pulling away and gazing up at him.

"No," he admits, "I cannot, though I deeply wish I could. I can attempt to transfer some of your anguish to me, but I can only do so when you are actively in pain."

He watches her carefully, his cold heart cracking in his chest as he sees tears well in her eyes.

"I wish I knew what it wants from me," she says.

Vessel tenderly thumbs away a tear that begins to track down her cheek, briefly contemplating telling her of Sleep's plan to break her down and offer conversion. But she cannot guard her thoughts like he can against Sleep, and he fears cluing her in on his plot to spare her would result in Sleep discovering it the next time it probes her mind.

"You will find out in time," Vessel soothes. "Every visitor to the domain does. And when you do, I will be there to help you achieve whatever it is Sleep asks of you."

Then, slowly, he tilts his head down and presses his forehead against hers. However, it does not take long for her to duck down and lurch into Vessel's chest, shoulders shaking as she wraps her arms around him.

He holds her as she cries, petting her hair and offering what he hopes are soothing words.

Vessel has a vague intuition of what his visitor is truly needing. The reason why she was chosen to be a prize for Vessel.

She is lonely. Just as he is.

He can sense it, though he cannot discern the specifics. But she is so desperate for connection, for care, for warmth. For love. Yet, she is afraid. She fears the hurt that can come with vulnerability.

Vessel understands implicitly. Perhaps with time, he will be able to not just erode her walls, but his own as well. Only the future will tell.

As she calms, he senses that she is near waking. After gently wiping away stray tears, he helps her to her feet and extends a hand to her.

"If you would like," he says, "I can introduce you to the other vessels."

She hesitates for a moment, the landscape around her fading back to monotone gray, then slots her hand into his.

[daisynik7]

The Takada-Chan Meet and Greet

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~3.1k

cw: explicit language, suggestive dialogue, switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Todo is in 3rd)

Summary: Your first Todo-free Takada-Chan event! Or so you think.

Author's Notes: Here’s Chapter 3! Thank you for supporting this series so far. In this story, Todo lives in Tokyo; he moved after graduating from Kyoto Jujutsu High School, in case you want some background info. Divider credit to @/saradika.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Todo hates being late to Takada-Chan events. Absolutely despises it. However, his duties as a Jujutsu Sorcerer always come first; that’s the vow he committed to. Being a grade 1 sorcerer involves responsibilities that even the pop idol can’t supersede, much to his dismay.

The Saturday of Takada-Chan’s Meet and Greet, he is assigned a mission to exorcise an unregistered special grade cursed spirit outside of Tokyo. He convinces his brother, Yuji, to team up with him to knock this out as soon as possible. They successfully eliminate it, but it ends up taking them the entire morning, leaving Todo to rush back home to get ready. He’s scratched up a bit; nothing that a hot shower, moisturizer, and deodorant won’t fix. Still, he’s exhausted. It doesn’t matter, though; he will push through the pain for Takada-Chan!

As he changes, he recalls the most recent Handshake event he attended. It somehow became the best Takada-Chan experience, all thanks to that girl, his rival. The chick who gets under his skin, always challenging him, and calling him an idiot. They only received special treatment because the pop idol assumed they were a couple. How ridiculous. As if Aoi Todo could ever be with anyone besides Takada-Chan.

However, he is still a man. There’s no denying that he checked this girl out while she stood in line in front of him. He always makes it a point to observe a person, especially women. It’s for scientific data, of course, or at least that’s what he tells himself to justify it. In all honestly, he finds her cute; she has a nice smile, even though it’s never directed at him. And sure, maybe his eyes have drifted further south, mostly out of curiosity. Even he can admit to himself that she has a nice butt. He can’t help but acknowledge a beautiful ass when he sees one.

Personality-wise, he can’t straight up say he hates her. She’s annoying for trying to compete with him to be Takada-Chan’s #1 fan. She’s his rival when it comes to that. But deep down, he respects how she doesn’t back down from him. She challenges him, which he doesn’t mind since he loves competition. It keeps things interesting. It’s amusing how fired up she gets over all the stupid shit he says. And he says a lot of stupid shit.

He doesn’t like how she calls him an idiot, considering he has the highest IQ possible. But he can’t completely blame her either, given what an asshole he’s been to her so far. She probably hates him. 

Well, it doesn’t matter. The only woman for him is Takada-Chan. He doesn’t have to waste his time trying to get other women to like him. Especially her, his enemy. That’s all she’ll ever be to him anyways.

~~~

The morning of Takada-Chan’s Meet and Greet, you are busy helping Sara prepare for a private party at her family’s restaurant. As much as you would have preferred to arrive at the event early to secure a good spot in line, your best friend asked for help and you couldn’t deny her of that. She deals with plenty of your ridiculous requests, so offering her a hand is the least you could do. 

As you lay out new tablecloths, Sara asks, “So, think you’ll see that himbo again today?”

“Todo? I don’t know, I hope not,” you reply. 

She sets a centerpiece down in the middle of the table. “You might want to reconsider your stance on pretending you two are a couple. I know you said you wouldn’t go along with it again, but what if you keep getting special treatment? This might be your best option.”

You look at her, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not seriously suggesting that my best option is to pretend that egotistical gorilla is my boyfriend, are you?”

She shrugs. “What’s there to lose?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. My pride. My dignity. My self-respect!”

She snickers. “Oh honey, that went out the window as soon as you started screaming Love Gem at each other.”

You give her a playful shove as you move on to the other tables, not responding to her little jab. Smirking, she adds, “Yuji said that Todo is actually really nice once you get to know him.”

“I’ve met this guy twice already and he’s been everything but nice. And since when are you and his friend on a first name basis?”

“Oh, we’ve been texting ever since we exchanged numbers at the Handshake Event. He’s super funny,” she explains, nonchalant. “Anyways, my point is, maybe you should try to play nice with Todo. There might be some benefits you can get out of this odd relationship you two have. Also, he’s hot. Maybe you can have angry hate sex with each other. How great would that be?!”

“Sara!” you exclaim, scandalized.

She giggles, giving you a sly look. “Oh please, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it! He’s totally your type and you know it.”

You stay quiet because it’s true. It’s not like you’ve thought about doing it with him. But he is your type, there’s no denying it. Ripped, tall, that low gruff he has in his voice. That mysterious and alluring scar on his face. What’s the story behind that?

He has an awful personality, though. Just awful. Cocky, arrogant, overbearing, irritating. A straight up asshat.

Is it a tad bit cute how smitten he gets around Takada-Chan? Yeah, maybe. Just a tad. The tiniest morsel of cuteness. Other than that, there are no redeeming qualities about him. Zero, nada, zilch. And you’re convinced that there’s nothing he can do that will change your feelings about him. 

After helping at the restaurant, you board the bus to the familiar convention center. The Meet and Greet starts in an hour at 1 PM, so as expected, there are already hundreds of fans in line. Many are already inside, so the sheer volume of fanatics outside has you assuming the worst. Today is going to be a long day of waiting for your turn with Takada-Chan. You scan the line of people ahead of you to see any familiar face, specifically Todo. He’s probably first, gloating to whoever would listen about how he’s #1. Ugh. At least this will be the first Takada-Chan event uninterrupted by him. You’re not sure why you’re even thinking of him in the first place, you need to enjoy this moment of being Todo-free.

People continue to fall in line behind you. You chat with some fans next to you, sharing your favorite songs and iconic concert moments. From the corner of your eye, you notice a familiar figure approaching slowly from the across the street. To your surprise, it’s Todo. He’s walking with a small, but noticeable limp towards the front door of the convention center, hands in his pockets. He looks through the doors, then down the line of people wrapped around the building. His whole body heightens as he takes a deep sigh and makes his way to the back, looking defeated with his head down, staring at his feet, clearly frustrated. You can’t help but feel sorry for the guy.

Once he’s within earshot, you call out to him, “Hey Todo!”

He lifts his head to glance at you with a neutral expression, waiting for you to say something else.

You’re not even sure why you call out to him. What are you supposed to say? Do you want to be a little shit and boast? He would probably do the same to you, in fact you’re certain he would. But something about his expression in this moment is pitiful. You’re not that much of a cold-hearted bitch to kick him while he’s down, right?

“I guess we were both too busy today to claim our rightful spots. We’ll get it next time.” You give him a tight-lipped smile.

He lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, sure.” Then he drags his feet towards the end of the long line.

Why did you say something so unnecessary and useless? As if saying anything can make him feel better. And why do you care about making him feel better? This guy is nothing to you. It’s not like the two of you are friends.

You look back to see if you can still see him, but by now, he’s disappeared into the throng of people.

By 12:30 PM, the crowd is buzzing. Takada-Chan will be arriving any moment. There’s a chance that she will walk through the front entrance to greet her fans. Right on cue, a stretch limo appears on the street and the pop idol steps out, surrounded by security guards. She’s wearing an off-the-shoulder cropped blouse paired with a checkered mini skirt, strutting towards the fans in black platform heels, so stylish and cool as always. She starts near the rear, waving and smiling. Your heart races with excitement as she gets closer and closer to you. As she passes by, you wave enthusiastically. She smiles and continues, but then does a double take. “Hey! I recognize you! You were at my handshake event just a few weeks ago! One half of the couple! What’s your name again?”

Stuttering, you say your name. “Y-Y-Yes! That’s me!” You can’t believe that she recognizes you!

The idol gives you an adorable pout, asking, “Where is your other half?”

What should you do? You told yourself you wouldn’t continue along with this lie. You’re supposed to hate this man. He is your sworn enemy, arch-nemesis, your rival. On the other hand, Takada-Chan is standing right here, talking to you! Would you even be in this situation if it wasn’t for this huge misunderstanding? At the same time, you can’t get his sad face out of your mind. He’s probably still wallowing in self-pity. 

Thinking on your feet, you quickly blurt out, “He’s way in the back of the line! He had work earlier today, so he came late. He didn’t feel right getting in line with me since there were already so many other fans lined up, so he just went to the back, that’s why we aren’t together.” You manage to put on your most convincing frowny face, praying to the Idol gods that this little fib is convincing enough.

She nods, not saying anything at first. Then, she gives you a mischievous grin. “Well, we can’t have that can we? Let’s go get your boyfriend.” Your eyes widen as she holds your hand and drags you out of line towards the back. You’re at a complete loss for words, no idea what is happening. When you reach Todo, his sullen face instantly changes as soon as he sees Takada-Chan. He gives you a quick glance and his expression changes from delight to confusion.     

With a bright smile, the pop idol says, “Hello! Your girlfriend told me all about your situation. Follow me!” With her free hand, she grabs Todo’s wrist and leads the two of you into the convention center, security guards surrounding you. There are gasps and excited cheers from the others as you all make your way further into the building.

Todo, currently transfixed by her  grip on his wrist, manages to whisper to you, “What’s going on?”

As quietly as you can, you respond, “I’ll explain later, just play along.” He nods, continuing to focus on Takada-Chan’s grip, blushing the whole way.

She leads you past the Meet and Greet table, through a door in the back that turns into a hallway. Most of the guards stay behind, leaving you with just the pop idol and the same guard who handed you the posters at the Handshake Event. She releases her grips on both of you, facing you, still smiling brightly. Her hand rests on the doorknob as she announces, “Welcome to my dressing room!” The door swings open, like the pearly gates of heaven. You can’t believe you’re about to enter Takada-Chan’s dressing room! What’s more unbelievable is that Takada-Chan herself has invited you!

You and Todo gasp as you walk in, taking in this behind-the-scenes glimpse into the pop idol’s life. Takada plops down on the couch, twirling one of her pigtails with her fingers. “We still have a few minutes before the Meet and Greet starts. I wanted to give my favorite couple a very exclusive experience!” She pats the space next to her on the couch, motioning for you to sit down, specifically you. From your peripheral, you see Todo’s eyes widen, green with envy. Oh, how you wish you could take a picture of this and remember it forever. He’s so jealous of you. This is a feeling you can get used to.

For some reason, you don’t sit down. Instead, you smile at Todo, putting on this fake girlfriend act. “Todo, sweetie, you go ahead and sit. You’ve been working hard all morning.”

Why did you do this? You don’t owe this guy anything. Well, maybe you do. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even be here right now. And Todo is so in love with Takada-Chan, you feel bad taking this rare opportunity away from him. After all, he did look rough today. Maybe you have just a microscopic soft spot for him. Maybe.

His mouth opens in shock as Takada-Chan squeals and exclaims, “Oh my gosh, you two are soooooo cute! I can’t!” She scoots over to the edge of the couch to accommodate Todo’s very large body. He looks nervous, giddy, and baffled all at the same time.

Sensing that Todo is too thrilled to speak, you initiate conversation with Takada-Chan, thanking her first for this very intimate Meet and Greet, and asking her questions about being a pop idol, which she kindly answers. She asks you about your “relationship” with Todo, which you do a lot of quick thinking and lying to answer. Basically, the story is that you’ve been together for four years, first meeting at a university party. You were attracted to his huge muscles and “quiet” personality, he was attracted to your quick wit and charm. He got into Takada-Chan only because of you and often praises you for being her #1 fan. Now you both live in studio apartment together in Tokyo with a pet turtle named Nobu.

If you are going to lie your ass off, you might as well milk it for all it’s worth.

When it gets closer to 1 PM, Takada gets up and goes over to her dresser. She signs a poster with both yours and Todo’s name on it, and writes, “To my favorite couple! Can’t wait to see you both at the next event!” She finishes it with a giant heart and her signature.

“Let’s take a picture before you two leave!” Takada-Chan stands in the center as you and Todo squeeze on either side of her. She puts up a peace sign, to which you both follow. Todo, who hasn’t said a word this whole time, holds out his arm with his phone in hand and takes the picture. It turns out to be a very cute photo.

You say your goodbyes, Todo blushing and still unable to speak, then the security guard walks you out through the back exit. You lead him towards the same bench area you found at the last event and sit down, still buzzing with excitement. You just spent twenty minutes alone with Takada-Chan. It’s like a dream come true!

The sound of his voice startles you. “That was crazy.”

You giggle, turning to face him. “She knows our names.” You unravel the rolled-up poster that she signed and stare at the message she wrote. It’s so surreal!

You’re both quiet for a few moments until Todo clears his throat. “Thanks. For doing all that. I don’t know exactly what you said to her, but whatever it was, it worked.” He pauses before asking, “Why did you do that?”

You shrug your shoulders and reply, “She asked where my boyfriend was, and I just came up with something. I don’t think she would let me into her dressing room alone. Unfortunately, we’re a packaged deal now.”

He chuckles. “I guess so. I just can’t believe I sat next to her. Our knees touched!”

“Why didn’t you say anything? She was sitting right next to you; I feel like I did all the talking.”

“I was so nervous. I couldn’t believe we were in her dressing room. I didn’t know what to say. You really held it down for us.” He looks at you, smiling. It wasn’t the shit-eating grin or cocky smirk you’ve seen from him before. It’s a friendly smile. A genuine smile. 

It catches you off guard. This might be the first time you and Todo aren’t bickering with each other. The first time he’s not being a cocky asshole to you. You stare down at the poster in your hands, debating in your head. Deciding, you hand it over to him. He doesn’t take it, he only gives you a curious look and says, “What are you doing? You should keep it.”

“No, it’s okay. I shamelessly used you today. Doesn’t feel right to keep it.”

“I don’t mind if you use me,” he says in that low voice. And there’s that smirk again.

Rolling your eyes, you say, “Just take it, okay? I’ve already made up my mind.”

He continues to look at you oddly. “Seriously, why are you doing this?”

“Does it matter? Take the poster. It’s really not a big deal. Just send me that picture and we’ll call it even.”

“Fine, give me your number then.”

You recite your phone number to him. After a few seconds, you feel the vibration of your phone. There it is, the picture. And his phone number. For some reason, you feel nervous having his phone number. Like a line has been crossed. There’s a noticeable difference in the energy between you two now. It’s weirdly peaceful.

After a few moments of silence, Todo huffs and cross his arms in front of his chest. “This doesn’t change anything, just so you know. I’m still her #1 fan.”

Never mind. Hostile energy is back.

“Aww, and just when I thought we could be friends,” you retort, rolling your eyes.

He looks at you with an eyebrow raised and grins. In his low voice, he says, “I don’t think we’ll ever be friends.”

You watch him as he walks away, signed poster in hand. His words seem harsh, but you can’t help but feel like there is a hidden meaning behind what he just said.

[lemon-russ]

Today's parade of fleas comes with a complementary/ optional musical accompaniment

BABY SAID - Måneskin

Lots of this was written at 3am on my phone and deep in my Unwell (tm) brain land. I love putting them in situations.

Part 5/ ???

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 7.5 :: 8

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

(Cato POV 3rd person this time though)

CW: Talks about sex, Cato being a bully (verbally)

Summary: Cato does not want to talk about the events occurring from the discovery of the new emotion of horny

word count: 2,096

He couldn't even begin to explain to himself why he just did that. He sits on the floor of the cave, staring ahead with a blank, tense look, thinking about how sometimes, he does things, and sometimes, they have consequences. Like this awkward, confused silence.

The ambassador sits a few feet away, sharing a similar look. She was flushed still, hair a mess, dress barely holding on after the rock wall of the cave shredded the back of it. By the throne she looked good like this- No, stop that, doesn't he learn? This whole thing was insane and now he's going to have to live with it, and yet he's still sitting here daydreaming of how she'd look on her back and fully naked next time.

But there isn't going to be a next time, because that was a moment of insanity. They had been arguing, why did he kiss her? Okay, he knows why, but he doesn't want to actually think about that, because it's a stupid reason. She'd been insisting he didn't care about her- which is correct- but for some reason some sort of madness overcame him and he wanted her to think he did care. Okay, maybe he cared like, a little. Not anything weird, it's not sentimental to not actively wish death on someone. He'd go so far as to say it wasn't even overly familiar to wish someone does not die.

But that feels like a long leap between I'd be displeased if you perished and pinning her to a wall and fucking her mindless. Which he will admit, he did do. And he was excellent at it, of course. Cato Sicarius is the greatest at all feats of combat, and what is sex but really sticky awkward combat? He smirks to himself a bit. Another grand mastery to mark down, even if it was one he might prefer to keep to himself. But, unfortunately, unlike regular combat, your fighting partner here stays very much alive- hopefully- and can do things like ask you what was that about and what the actual fuck was that about Cato, no, seriously, what was that. He grimaces and takes a deep breath, letting it out tiredly. Not physically tired of course, he was superior in all things, including this, and was not so weak as to tire so fast- not that that matters, because, again, it won't happen again. But if it did, it could happen right now. Theoretically. Space marine stamina was second to none.

She glances over at him, expression mirroring his internal conflicts. “So….” She says softly, a small frown tugging the corners of her mouth. He clears his throat. “So.” He returns, frowning back. Emperor this was awkward. Truly a fitting punishment, to be forced to endure such banal things like talking about feelings after sex. He shudders to himself.

She frowns a bit deeper. “Are we going toooo…. Talk about that or….” She asks in a nervous voice.

Ah, excellent, she was giving him a choice. He sighs in relief, smiling genuinely for the first time in what feels like a week. “No, thank you.” He says politely, standing and brushing off his pants. What a weight off his mind, maybe he could do this sex thing more often-

“Cato.” She says, displeased. He frowns. He didn't know it was a trick question, but apparently he'd gotten it wrong. He groans. “Can't we just, pretend it didn't happen?” He pleads with an exasperated look. “What happens on dirt rock planet stays on dirt rock planet or something?” He grumbles, checking outside for the armies. Night had fallen, but he didn't see anything new at least.

“You seriously aren't going to explain what that was about?” She says, growing more frustrated. His eye twitches. This, this is why astartes are not supposed to take women to their beds. They can't move on from things and need to talk about unimportant drivel like motivations and futures and labels. Uhg. He rolls his eyes, giving her an annoyed look. “What's there to say? Your face when you got angry was attractive and I fell to baser reactions after a long and stressful day of saving you from perils.” He said dryly, crossing his arms and leaning against the cave wall, facing out and keeping watch.

She groans, “That's your excuse? You just, decided today was the day to grow a heart and feel human needs and you take it out on me?” She says tiredly.

He huffs out his nose, frowning over his shoulder at her. “I have two hearts, actually. Maybe you should read up more on the superior anatomy of an astartes and spend less time droning on about weather with nobles.” He frowns back out at the landscape. Was that a light…?

She growls in frustration. “Unbelievable. No, actually, very believable. It's my fault, really, for fucking you and thinking maybe you were having some sort of emotional breakthrough-” he hushes her, making her fluster in anger, but his eyes are trained on the light outside, and she catches the hint and just huffs out her nose a little. She quietly scootches over to see what he's looking at. Daft woman, a mortal's eyes can't see that far in the dark.

“I don't see anything…” she murmurs. No shit. Maybe he shook the last cobwebs of intelligence from her skull when he slammed her against that wall. He just hushes her again, making her pout. He glances at her annoyed little face and briefly considers repeating his misstep- no, focus Cato, there's enemies around. And he's pretty sure she can't take being fucked any dumber before she loses her ability to form speech. He smirks to himself at his little internal diss as he scans the landscape again.

He sees a search party now, combing the area back and forth in lines. Fuck. That is very, very bad for them. “Time to go” he says quietly, scooping her up onto his shoulder, making her squeak as air was knocked out of her a little. He frowns a little and glances at her kicking and annoyed little form. Well, maybe there was a few minutes before that party found them- no, no she cries like a banshee when she comes, they'd find them in minutes.

He sighs, moving her onto his shoulder upright. “hold onto my armor” he instructs, standing with her clinging to the neck of his armor, sitting on his power pack like he's giving her a piggy back ride. He puts his helmet on, “We're going to be running and calling for a pickup.” he says, ducking out of the cave and into the cold desert night. She shivers and he grimaces. Right, she barely has clothes on. Not that he cares if she's cold, but, it’s probably not great for their cover if her teeth chatter. He sighs and reluctantly tugs his cape off its holds on his back. “Here. Your ridiculous outfit choice once again forces me to do everything for you, wrap yourself in this.” He grumbles. She blinks at him, expression something he couldn't read, and takes the cape, using it like a blanket and tying it around herself. She smiles a little at him and he grimaces. “Stop that.” He demands. “Don't look at me like that. It freaks me out.”

She raises her brow and sighs. “Lets just get home.” She says, rubbing the bridge of her nose, mumbling something about mixed messages. That's stupid. His messages were very clear. He never mixes them. He huffs and starts heading away from the search party into open dark desert.

He moves at a light jog, and after a few minutes, she makes a sharp noise, making him stop and look up at her. Shes frowning, “ah- sorry, don't mind me, I'm just sore from… well… the power pack is a little hard to sit on right now.” She mumbles, glancing away awkwardly.

He sighs. “squishy, breakable mortal.” He says tiredly, pulling her off his back with a squeak. “Aren't you meant to push children out of there? How could I so damage you by doing what nature intended for it.” He grumbles as he moves to cradle her bridal style instead.

She's surprised a moment as he holds her, then frowns a bit. “I don't think astartes count as things nature intended to happen to it…” she grumbles, pink staining her cheeks as she glances away. He chuckles to himself as he starts jogging again, “Ah yes, nature could not predict the perfection of the space marine. Maybe we should create genetic enhancements for women, allowing them to not break the moment they are touched in any capacity.” He speculates to himself. “The basics, really, hardened bones, healing, sturdier flesh, some spare organs. Maybe increased pelvic capacity so an astartes lover doesn't rend you more useless than usual.” He says, smirking down at her behind his helmet. “Then I wouldn't have to work so hard this whole trip to just keep bullets out of you. It has been a huge trouble for me, you know.” He says with slight annoyance.

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously still doing this? You admitted to me already that you care about me and didn't like seeing me hurt.” She says with a tired scowl.

He nods, “Yes, which is also deeply disturbing. Now I have to keep you free of holes and breaks, because if I don't-” he stuttered in his gait, taking a small breath. He was thankful for the helmet, it was hard to school his expression right now, and it hid the terrified grimace that assaulted his face muscles at the thought of her becoming injured. He let out a tense sigh. “Well, it is quite annoying that for some reason I will be the one to suffer if great harm comes to you.” He grumbles a bit.

She blinks up at him- ah, there's that stupid puzzled look again. It'd be cute almost if it wasn't so agitating that she could apparently not comprehend simple thoughts at random. He sighed. “What is that face for? Shall I say it slower with smaller words?” He asks dryly.

She frowns and knits her brow, but was still looking at him like he'd grown another head like a chaos spawn. “You are possibly the most stubborn or most dense man I've ever met, and I can't decide which it is. Maybe both.” She says, shaking her head. The action makes some of her hair fluff around her face and he scolds himself when he thinks it's cute. “What in the Emperor's name are you on about now, you senseless creature?” He asks in exasperation.

She rolls her eyes. “I don't think I have the time or crayons to explain the entirety of the concept of interpersonal relationships and emotions to you right now, Cato.” She says tiredly, laying her head against his chest plate. He smiles at her cuddling to him- wait stop that she insulted you, do not smile- he forces a frown. “You do not need to explain these things to me. I know them well.” He huffs indignantly. “I am Cato Sicarius, master of many things, including psychology.” He says, pouting under his helmet. He already solved psychology this morning.

She chuckles for some warp damned reason, actually laughing at emperor knows what. He frowns down at her as she giggles herself into a fit. “I fear your mind may have sustained one too many hits, knocking what's left of your brain against the inside of your ceramite skull.” He says with a small scowl. “You seem to be losing more and more of your senses every passing moment. Perhaps it is good I did not actually render you unconscious to make you easier to handle. You probably wouldn't be able to speak again.” He says with an annoyed tone as he picks up the pace and voxes an SOS signal with their location up to the flagship.

She laughs more, snorting a little and shaking in his arms. It makes him crack a smile himself against his will. “You are mad, Woman.” He grumbles, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. That's what it all comes down to, he decides. Women are simply all completely mad. Boom, he solved women, the eternal enigma. He smiles to himself. He was on a roll today, but that's expected. He's Cato Sicarius, there is no mystery he cannot unravel.

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 1

Synopsis: The Doctor notices a student. She notices him.

a/n: thank u to the moots for sticking with me. Yall are the best. This is going to be a series. Somewhat of a dark!doctor ish fic maybe. I haven't planned this far. I have ideas. Will switch between a 3rd party but doctor centric POV and a 2nd party student centric POV.

The sun drew itself in on the cold day, light filtering through large windows in the lecture hall. It caught and reflected the motes of light swirling around. First day of the Spring term. Lots of new students trickled in and found their respective seats. Of course, the syllabus was now online and such. But the Doctor still preferred to give a paper one. He felt it helped students focus if they had it real and tangible…unable to forget.

Just like he forgot so much. A lingering pain….

He started up his usual dazzling spiel. Enough to keep them from dropping out, but not enough to rile them to madness. He learned that lesson early on in this particular charade he was distracting himself with. All he had to really do was keep Missy in the Vault and attempt to rehabilitate her. Humans were such a delicate group to keep balanced. Too much stimulation and they would self destruct. Not enough? The same but in a reverse spiral.

Or just fall asleep.

He preferred it if a few actually did fall asleep.

Allowed him to build a reputation as a teacher. Keep the act up.

He didn’t notice the young woman intently staring, writing down the key phrases from his opening statements. He was enraptured in the normal routine he has become familiar with.

The hour came to a close, and he did a bow. He was to visit Missy again some time soon. Just a cursory check. See if she’d calmed down from her last temper tantrum, where she demanded a saxophone and stated that Billy Clinton was also a war criminal, but made some sweet jazz.

He could hardly agree. She already was a mediocre piano player. And the drum set she demanded earlier lay in tatters in her cupboard.

Being her keeper and therapist was rotten work, but it warmed him. Gave him a gram of hope that she may get better and he may have his friend back once more.

Though, he knew in both is hearts, hope could be a fragile thing for a man to hold onto.

But, especially in this body, he believed in redemption and change. They both had forever to change. They had forever.

A few weeks had passed, and he noticed that keen eyes were burning the back of his neck as he scrawled on the chalkboard. It felt different than the usual glazed-over focus of people trying to write or type out his valid points. It was hot and felt more personal. Less trying to pass a class.

He paused his sentence and raked his eyes over. It was a student with large gold hoops and a few tangled gold necklaces. The Doctor recognized two or three of the symbols used on some of them from his travels through Earth’s history. She was chewing hard on her pen. He could see flecks of her tinted chap stick clinging onto the sides of it. Her eyes were squinted slightly and a slight patch of blush rested on her checks. He couldn’t tell if it was a make up look or some feverish feature of her human body. Perhaps she was in the first phases of getting sick!

He went back to his lecture. Some misfocused student was the least of his concern.

But he still felt her eyes bore into him. Intent on something. He trudged on.

He came to a close, reminded everyone of their upcoming projects and let the day start to rest. The Doctor announced that his office hours were changing to represent the spring coming soon and to “Allow you all to feel the sun on your faces, you don’t know how long you’ll have. Humans usually only live once!”

He scanned the audience and saw her shoving her notebook and that well-gnawed on pen into her bag. Big purse with a rhinestone buckle. Resembled something that Rose or Jackie would have had, he mused.

She slung that and a tote bag that seemed overstuffed and ripe for the breaking over her shoulder. She audibly groaned under the weight. He pitied her. The stressed look she had on her face was oddly enchanting in the light just starting to sink.

He knew she was struggling in the class. She did good work, yes. When he opened up questions and debate, she usually had such pointed takes that verged on mind-racing. Sometimes others would bristle against what she said on the more provocative topics he offered up. Essays and tests? Not so much. She floundered.

She had accommodations for some diagnosis or whatever. He could tell her mind was making connections in a far more tangential way than the other’s either couldn’t or wouldn’t make. And for that he did like her. Enjoyed what she brought to the table. Although, even his brains had difficulty making some of the leaps her brain did.

But why was she staring at him like that today? It was almost reverent. Very off putting.

She came forward to his desk and clicked open her notes app .

“Erm…Professor.” She cleared her throat and started up. “Uh, I was wondering if I could see you sooner rather than later. For office hours. I’m sorry for my late essay last week. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I can’t focus and I feel like I’m losing my mind half the time lately. May I have some insight or whatever you want on how I could do better. I know I’m doing…like, so bad.” She confessed and exhaled on the final note of her punctuation.

She turned a new type of stare towards him. Less intense and personal and more of a thousand-yard death grip.

Her entire demeanor in this moment was very lamb like. A confused air of innocent need to do well, to pass her classes, clouded her.

A weaker man would have felt more predatory, he noted.

She wasn’t unattractive for a human, not like past companions he worshiped the ground of. Of course. He was drawn to them for their natures, often ignoring their faces wholesale.

She started to chew and rip at her pinky nail and lower lip simultaneously…

“Of course,” He said. “I have to go help a friend with something, so I have to talk and walk.”

She nodded eagerly and gave such an appreciative smile. “Thanks!” The words came out so quickly, almost breathlessly.

She trotted along side him.

Once outside, they started discussing her options. She had to work nights, she stated, she said so they were arranging a time to work in a little extra help and tutoring.

He genuinely enjoyed her company and led her to a bench.

“What about your friend?” She asked.

“Oh, Nardole can handle himself.” He smiled. “He’ll not miss me for an extra four or five minutes.”

She laughed a bit.

She plunged her hand into her purse and started rifling around. It was a chaotic sight.

She produced a pack of cigarettes and a tiny green plastic lighter.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to quit, but it’s been hell lately.” She grimaced.

He shook his head, no, he didn’t mind. It wouldn’t affect him. Her, yes. But one little luxury, especially if she was trying to quit.

“So long as it’s your last for a while.” He took the teacherly route.

She lit up and took a huge drag. Closing her eyes he noticed that deep look of exhaustion had given her dark purple and almost black under eye circles. She had apparently tried to cover them up with some make up products and some mascara and smudged eyeliner. She held that breath in for a few seconds. It was almost beautiful.

She exhaled and fluttered them open. The smoke wisped and flew away quickly in the gentle breeze.

“Yeah, thanks. People get so weird about smoking. But they’ll vape? Like, indoors. All the time.” She rolled her eyes at that mildly hypocrisy.

They planned for her to meet up with him in his office on Monday just before the lunch hour. Then turned the conversation to some topics in debate that another student, a male who irked her with his constant urge to play Devil’s Advocate. She had some very often-overlooked viewpoints and a very bizarre way of describing things. It was enchanting.

“Thanks.” She ignored a boundary and squeezed his hand. He felt a holy jolt of electricity go up his arm from the small touch. “I gotta go…you’ve got a friend. Works been slow and I have some…appointments. So I have to make sure I’m perfect.” She elaborated with an almost tic-like shake of her head.

“Yes, my friend is probably going insane dealing with our little issue.” He responded in kind. Missy had probably caused Nardole to melt down or malfunction.

He watched her leave towards the bus stop. Her bags hitting her back as she rushed. Her coat barely covering her bottom and the belt caught in the hem of it. He felt himself feeling almost physically unable to leave the bench. Something tugging at his gut was preventing him from doing so. It felt akin to what River and Clara evoked in him but different.

River and Clara were strong and capable, avant-garde. Self-confident. Cocky. But this student was seemingly the inverse. Very vulnerable and nervous to the point of a near imperceptible, even to him with his keen Time Lord senses, shake and a heart that was audibly racing in its cage. Coupled with her addiction to cigarettes and minor tendency towards self mutilation via near-constant picking and chewing…

Something dark, but heartwarming rushed through his core and took root.

He felt himself deeply looking forward to Monday.

[v--143]

Coukd you do a lee!minho and ler!chan?

YES OMG I have no idea if I’ve done this duo before but if I haven’t then thank you SO much for requesting it I’m literally in love with their relationship

❕Trying something new❕This is a first-person pov fic!! It’s not long and is more of a tester than anything :) after finishing I realized, at least for my preference in reading, that 3rd person imo is better, but if you like this style more lmk! Keep in mind this is very much a *drabble* so there wasn’t much editing ^^

< Humiliated >

[Lee! Lee Know]

[Ler! Bangchan]

———————————————————————————

I finished off with a smirk at the crowd of Stays in the distance. That solo stage was one of the more intense ones during the concerts, but it wasn’t anything impossible for me to handle. Lightsticks flew up across the crowd and the cheering made my ears fall deaf. It was a beautiful sight to see.. to which I boasted to the members about (obviously).

“Minho!! We love you Minho!! You’re so hot Lino!!” I whisper-screamed into Changbin’s ear. He shoved me to one side as he told me Stays were screaming for everyone, not just me. As if he thought I didn’t know my performance was the best one!

“Yeah pssch but did you see the cheering for meeee? They were going insane! Lee Know! Lee Know!” I giggled as I was once again shoved to the other side of the couch as his hand was placed onto my ribcage.

Nope, none of that.

I quickly rolled off the couch and walked away before being embarrassed. If I’m tickled in front of anyone and it’s found out I’m one of the most ticklish members of the group… no. Not me. That’s too vulnerable, it’s too embarrassing for others to know.

I jogged over to my room and ran into Chan on the way.

“Hi” I said (cutely, of course).

He smiled as he shook his head.

“So you can act all cool on stage, tease Stay with your smirk, and practice your dances for hours until perfection… yet you can’t remember to give me back my favorite sweater.”

Shit, I forgot. And I have it on. Double shit.

“Ahhh I will now! Sorry Hyung I forgot again” I mean, I did forget. I was being sincere, but..

“Oohoh no this is like the fourth time you’ve forgotten. Imagine if- wha- is that a stain?! Lee Know!!!”

I didn’t stain it did I?! I looked down at the spot he was staring at and-

A big orangeish-pink splotch of what I’m assuming was my soup from earlier today looked back up at me. It was right on my ribs, how did I not see it before?!

“Come here.” Chan grabbed me by the arm and walked with me down to the kitchen. He looked pissed. Not actually pissed, of course, but as annoyed as can be. I had other things to do though! And I didn’t want him humiliating me in front of everyone else. I told him I’d have it clean by the end of the day, but he wasn’t having it.

“No, I want it now. And clean.”

“Well I can’t really do that now.. sorry hyung just wait a little bit-“ he didn’t let me finish as he began grabbing an array of cleaning supplies like Clorox wipes, a soft scrubbing tool, a rag, and some

“Yes you can do it now,” he said as he walked towards me, “I’ll help you”

I didn’t even have time to protest before he wrapped an arm around my waist and threw me onto the living room couch. He placed all other items on the floor and placed me on my side. I didn’t like where this was going, I didn’t even understand what was happening yet!

“This is the stain, right?” Chan asked as he pointed to the big splotch on the sweater, which sat above my ribs.

“Obviously dumbass” I replied. Snarky, I know, but I’m confused.

“Okay. Then stay still as I clean it.” With that, Chan grabbed a damp cloth, poured a few drops of soap on it, held my hip with one hand, and began to rub the cloth on the sweater with his other hand.

I don’t think I’ve yelled so loud in my life.

“FUhuhuck wait wahait!!” I yelled out. It’s too intense!!

“Nope, I’ve waited long enough”

What an ass!

“Careful hyung you might get kicked” Hyunjin intruded. I just shot him a glare and tried to cover my side.

“Oh no no no, hands up” Chan said.

I just stared at him (probably definitely blushing). Did he seriously expect me to keep my arms raised, here in the living room, in front of everyone, and not lower them?! He’s a madma-

“He’s too weak for that, hold on” I heard Changbin say. Who was he to help Chan and not me?!

“Ya don’t make this into a big deheheal!! Just let me go wash it and I’ll give it back-” I was cut off by Changbin forcefully grabbing my wrists and holding them barely above my chin, as if to taunt me by making me be so close to covering my sides but unable to do so.

“You clearly need some help figuring out how to keep things clean.. be ready to cover his mouth, Bin.” Chan said.

I had nowhere to go and nothing I could do except kick my legs out until Chan sat on them and began to harshly drag the rag up and down my ribs, digging in the entire way.

“AHAHehahahehaAHA WAhahit!! HahaHAHAE WhaHAHAIT!!” I laughed out loudly as he purposefully dug the rag into my side.

“This stain is a tough one..” he said.

“Noho it’s nOHOT!! AHAHAHA” I screamed as he kept going, “STOP! STOHOhohaHAHA”.

My face flushed red as I saw Chan and Bin simply watching me and laugh. I saw the other members, too, smiling over at me. I felt relieved humiliated.

I’ve never been one to beg anyone for anything. Ever. But..

“PLEHEASE! STOHOP PLease plehehease!! PlehahaHAHAHEA AAHHHHAHA” I yelled out as fast as I could until Chan began to slow down the pace.

“I think it’s mostly off now.. it’ll do.”

I was let go and immediately slammed my hands down to cover my sides, one wet from the soapy cloth. Chan giggled down at me as I quickly stood up and went to find another sweater. Idiot.

I changed quickly and threw Chan’s into the washer, not without a glare at him beforehand though.

[mothzarellaman]

The Life Series and Eyes (A Headcanon Rambling)

hello traffiblr! Y'all voted to have me rant about the life series and my personal headcanons regarding eyes, so. Here we go!

Overview

So let me hit you guys with a quick overview.

here's a quick reference. While these all depend on the individual, and the series, I'll explain what each general eye color means.

4+ Lives

People with 4+ lives fall into this category. Their eyes are a dark green, bordering on teal. I think it would be interesting if A. eyes act as a sort of weak gradient in terms of 4-1 lives. So, there's a bit more blue. 2. Personal headcanons regarding speakers, and their colors. 3. A sort of parallel to the Boogey eyes. both are very dark. So its harder to tell if they have 4+ lives somehow, or if they're boogey.

3 Lives

A classic. A nice, simple green. While the exact hue varies depending on the person (because of either violent or peaceful behavior/simply what looks good with them), greens have generally bright green eyes.

2 Lives

Similarly to 3, the exact hue depends on behavior of the individual. Someone who's more violent would be closer to an amber, while peace loving players lean towards more of a yellow-green. The eyes are always clearly yellow, though.

1 Life

While the others would go towards a color dependent on behavior, all bets are called off for reds. The hue is purely aesthetic. It is no longer a clue towards general behavior. There's rarely any allowance for personal preferences in reds. All they can see is violence and conquest.

Boogey

Basically, I reject the idea of boogies having purple eyes or glints for symbolism with watchers. It's far more threatening to me if their normally bright colored eyes are chips of the void. Obviously, characters still have pupils, I just don't include them in my style. I can't decide if Boogies have pure black eyes, or if their eyes are a dried-blood color so dark it only seems reddish in light.

0 Lives / Dead

And finally, we have grey eyes. When it comes to deaths before the final death, the bodies disappear quickly, as soon as the person respawns, I'd wager. But after that final death, their body remains. Their eyes quickly lose all color, and end up as grey. This was chosen just out of design choice, the lifeless look, and also, by incident, Scar's red-life skin. It makes him completely greyscale, so a similar logic applies here.

Character Specific Colors

Here's a quick guide to character specific colors. Again, everyone has a unique one. Do note that most of these are simply what looks good, as I've only had the time to watch Grian's pov, and not anyone elses.

Ik they don't really... look good and may not fit, but hey, I'm here to rant about design ideas, not actual colors lol. And you will not believe how hard it is to make 16 different palletes unique and at least kinda match the character while having the same main 4 colors. I will address Grian, dw. Boogey and dead eyes are the same color, regardless of character.

3rd Life

Alright, so, from the base rules, nothing changes. It uses the same logic mentioned up above. Green, yellow, red, and grey. There's no real special mentions here that are exclusive to 3L.

Last Life

Similarly to 3L, LL lacks any specific changes to eyes. The only addition are the new eye colors for boogey and 4+.

Double Life

Here, characters share eye colors. What do I mean by this? I mean, their signature eye colors are at a gradient with their soulmate's. So, for example, Pearl and Scott's Green eyes are mixed as a gradient with both are on green. This applies for every life, and every soulbond. It gives people slight clues as to who exactly their soulmate is, but its hard to tell. When scar showed up boasting purple eyes, everyone was confused, to say the least lmao.

Limited Life

ok i'm definitely the happiest with this one. The idea is that everyone's eyes are functionally, like a clock. I illustrated it really badly, but the idea is cool ok. The idea is that like, idk, every 1/8 of someone's eye represents an hour. Every hour lost from the 'benchmark' turns to the next color. For example, if someone has 24 hours, their eyes are pure green. If they have, say, 18, they only have 1/4 (2/8) of green left, the rest of their eye being green. If they have only an hour left, they only have an 1/8 of an eye red, the rest being grey. The color of their current life slowly recedes in an almost spiral pattern as time goes on. If someone somehow had 24+ hours, same rule would apply to their 4+ life, so to speak. they'd only have a sliver of the dark green, with most of their eye being their 'normal' green.

Grian

okay, I know for sure people are questioning why Grian's eyes are neon purple. The reason why is on the simpler side. Watcher. He's the only one out of the players to be an actual watcher. Some people (like Pearl and BigB) definitely have some ties to them, but Grian's the only full blown watcher. (Martyn is tied to the listeners, who are green to me, so his colors are greener despite being prone to violence lmao. And Scott is tied more to the Speakers, who are blueish/cyan to me. Pearl, as Scott's soulmate in DL, has that bluish tint to a degree. )

But, you might ask, how do people not notice??? Well, its because of my Grian design.

This is old and it doesn't quite show my idea well, but alas.

I've already made reference images for this and I can't find the motive to draw a Grian headshot lmao. The idea is taking the Watcher's face plate. You know the one. The mask. And taking that, and instead of having the Evo symbol, no, it has, guess what. Grian's weird freaking eyes. Yep. Whether this was his attempt at camouflaging himself among non-watchers, or if it was his basically middle finger towards them, refusing to show obvious alliance with them, idk. All I know is he basically vandalized his Watcher mask. Still, you might say, that doesn't explain why is eye color is purple. Well, if you take away his mask, it's either basically a void with purple eyes inside, or probably some sort of void looking crack through his face, as if it isn't actually flesh. He can choose to have 'normal' eyes, but they always remain that Alexandria's Genesis purple, and it messes with his sight. Basically he sees too much. (I'd elaborate in my Watcher/Listener/Speaker post if people wanted 👀)

[waveridden]

okay I'll bite. what's the deal with the life series. what's the lore. what's your favorite thing about it. I wanna understand the Posts

huge win for the me community let's go. okay. idk your minecraft knowledge level so i am going to explain as though it's zero bc mine was basically zero when i started watching.

so. the life series (also known as 3rd life, bc that's the first season) is a minecraft survival multiplayer series, which essentially means it's a server where you can die. in fact, it is a death game! everyone on the server has three lives; if you die three times, you're out of the series. your goal is to be the last one standing. additionally, when you're down to your last life, you are expected and honor-bound to engage in pvp and ruin your alliances. your goal is Murder.

there are five seasons out right now with different gimmicks, each one has the same core cast with some changes - essentially it's a bunch of friends who will take any excuse to kill each other, but with increasingly weird and complex political factions and interpersonal dynamics. people are out here swearing fealty. there are betrayals. there are team banners. there's a season where they build a complex net of paths in the sky and drop tnt on one another.

it's one of those things where there is some lore/plot and you can take it as seriously or not-seriously as you want! yay! i for one love to go the "let's take this to its logical horrifying conclusion" route but some people are here for the sillies and that's good too. the fanart game is insane, people are making renaissance paintings and stuff.

anyways, this explanation is a mess, so i will go on to reccing povs, because there are ~15 people in each season and they're all posting videos and that can get overwhelming! there's not really a "right" order but when i started, @charaznablescanontoyota gave me the excellent advice of "start with the winner of each season and then whenever you're curious about something watch that next" - if you like that route and don't mind knowing who wins,

er4df444444444444 sorry that's my cat. he's been watching along with me. he has a lot of opinions.

anyways here's the list of winners, the wiki is a pretty good reference to have on hand. HOWEVER. i will also add that everyone has a different style! some people edit things very short, some people do long videos, some people are builders and some are very into the roleplay - i bounced pretty hard off the first pov i watched but switching to someone else worked for me, so in a way having so many options is great bc it means you can shop around, so to speak.

and i will close this out with a few of my personal favorite seasons! just for funsies.

inthelittlewood 3rd life (s1) - probably my personal fave. in which an early game alliance becomes an intensely charged king/knight relationship that they both take WAY too seriously (honorific)

smallishbeans last life (s2) - have you ever wanted to watch someone do a very, very bad job at murdering a lot of people?

pearlescentmoon double life (s3) - in a season where everyone has canonical soulmates, pearl ends up the odd woman out because her soulmate doesn't want to be with her. it is an insane and compelling character arc

ldshadowlady secret life (s5) - diversity win! this woman is so so bad at "what if minecraft were taskmaster"

and as a side note i tend to prefer the tightly edited stuff, so if you know that you Do Not prefer that, i would point you towards ethoslab secret life or grian 3rd life! or tbh still towards pearl double life.

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Still beating

What - dealing with grief as the dust finally starts to settle. Dealing with grief regarding one specific character's death in particular. You know the one.

Genre - heavier, but we get devoted husband/father Daryl out of the mix. And we don't end the chapter on a bummer, never fear. This ain't a French movie, slowpokes

Relationships - wife Reader and husband Daryl as well as your baby. Familial affection with Rick, and that balance between friend and clergy for Father Gabriel.

Perspective - 3rd POV Daryl, and 2nd POV You

Pronouns - she/her

When - time jump! we've briefly hopped to post season 8, pre season 9 (but before The best kind of damn weird). This chapter takes place during the earlier phases of recovery and rebuilding after the war. The previous chapter, Scary as a sleepy kitten, took place during season 2.

TWs - grief, PTSD (including after SA), depression, self-loathing, and some cussing. This chapter is also kinda lengthy, friends, and had to have exposition. (Might should've sliced the chapter in half, but then we'd have another two-parter on our hands :P)

But how long though? - ...20 minutes or so?

Story references and Masterlist link? - under the cut

And is there a pic at the end as a prize for finishing? - yes :D

Have fun and happy reading!

References to other chapters - what we learned in The Interview. There is also grieving/anger as seen in The first Christmas 'without' Part 2 and its conclusion in I don't hate you, a happy reference to Happy 8th of July!, reference to those lovely tugging strings as found in Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 (Part 2 I reckon is still glitched and showing as labeled mature, the poor thing's been cleared about 7ish times via help ticket XD ).

There are a lot more details you might recognize, pop on by to the Official Masterlist here, or for those who prefer linear over non-linear, the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here

-----------------------

Still beating

She was doing real bad. The past few days had been especially bad. Grief has nasty ways of settling in and rearing its ugly head.

He didn’t know too much about what to do to help her, he’d never been good at that stuff. And there was no fixing all that happened, especially not when the last thing that happened was the worst thing that could’ve.

Just like if TJ or Judith died, it was the worst thing. And part of his wife died right alongside Carl.

Hell, she’d been the one to wait after Carl died, then turned, to pull the trigger.

Now, she felt dead, too.

Gabe had to suggest that she check her pulse when it got bad enough.

Just at that moment, as Daryl was worrying and worrying, TJ started to wriggle and hum in an attempt to root at Daryl's bicep, which pulled him out of his own head for a second.

Gently, he began to bounce to try and keep his baby lulled. He knows Y/N wanted to breastfeed only to get her production up (and so TJ’s suckle could get stronger after the surgery), but Y/N was finally asleep.

Beginning with when Denise was killed, Y/N hadn’t been making as much as she first had. Then, the Saviors stopped the RV and surrounded them, and Negan did what he did. Then Daryl himself got taken away, then there was all the fighting.

And then Carl died.

Getting her milk to come back had been proving damned hard.

A handful of not-very-good times, they’d supplemented what milk she did make with watered-down formula and/or watered-down goat's milk.

One very bad time, they’d used sugar water to fill the babies’ bellies until Jesus got back with goat's milk. Just the one time they had to use sugar water, everybody made damn sure of that.

For now, Daryl could crack into what was still left of the goat's milk in the cooler, right? The two women in the Kingdom who had little guys had sent over actual breast milk with Carol a few days ago, but it was used up yesterday. That stuff had been a God-send, he couldn’t thank the ladies enough.

Between the two babies in Alexandria, TJ and Gracie, everyone had to be smart about using what (non-expired) formula was left. And given that the power got cut, keeping the goat's milk fresh was another problem, hence the cooler. The panels and power were back on, but it was spotty and he didn't want to risk the milk spoiling.

There was still a shit ton of clean-up had since the Saviors nabbed Alexandria’s storage, then firebombed the town. To make things worse, those assholes had their own compound destroyed, and Hilltop and the Kingdom got screwed, too. Even the beach women took another beating. Hell, and them junkyard people were literally all fucking gone except their leader chick.

So, Y/N breastfed the two babies as much she was physically able, all while working as the only other doc left standing in all five communities; she was running herself into the ground.

And with Carl gone…

It ain’t fair that she couldn’t make enough — it was Negan’s goddamned fault.

Which leads to what just went on: so Mich had told him, Y/N’d lashed out at Negan and the new doctor kid with the facial hair, what was his name, Sidney?

Daryl hadn’t been at the infirmary when it happened, but, according to Mich, she’d had to pull her out of the room. Once out, Y/N asked her about TJ, Judith, and Gracie to make sure they were safe, then disappeared after Mich had turned around. Straight up and bolted.

Daryl had checked the escape-closet first, but she wasn’t in there or the attic it connected to, wasn't on the roof that lead to.

He’d then checked the burned church. She’d been there, he recognized her boot prints, but she'd moved on. From there, he was able to follow her sooty tracks in the direction of the place he should’ve known to check first.

Sure enough, Y/N'd been at Carl’s grave.

His wife could barely look at him when he approached. He'd simply kissed her on the head and quietly walked her back home. Once home, he'd cleaned and bandaged her hand while she, again, tried to pump enough for the little guys.

Mich had told Daryl she’d get Rick for her, so he’d be here soon.

Daryl wracked his brain, he even prayed to learn what do to try to help carry Y/N through this shit.

At first, Y/N’d been pacing around the room, crying but trying not to, arms wrapped around her picture frame with a photo of Carl in it as if it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He'd been able to persuade her to lay down, and ended up laying in bed with her and holding her tight, their baby next to them in little bassinet.

Initially, him holding her and pressing kisses to her neck had made her feel worse. More guilty, that is. A handful of days ago, something got into her head that she needed to give him a damn "annulment."

Nah, for real, she’d even said (to Gabe) that the two of them not having ever done the deed yet was "grounds" to give him one. “Grounds to free him,” were her exact words. It was a whole thing, and the couple of failed attempts at trying to do the deed after getting hitched some months back probably made her feel guilty, as if not having sex yet would make him not love her, or?

Father Gabriel had Daryl's back the whole time during the conversation, though, decent dude.

And no, Daryl wasn’t angry or even real hurt that she’d thought she had to ‘free him’ and shit, he knows it was the grief and physical exhaustion that got her to that point. His woman had full-on blacked out and hurt herself that day, which is why he'd brought her to Gabe in the first place.

But the, um, the walls were thinner than Daryl had expected, which is how he overheard from the person that he was gonna love and stay with and stay faithful to until he dropped dead softly confess that she was “selfish” to keep him “stuck” with a “batshit m-mess” like her and “a baby that ain’t his.”

The fact that Y/N kept maintaining how much she loved him and how she didn’t want no annulment helped it hurt less when she’d sounded just about convinced that it was “loyalty to me ’cause we’re close, loyalty to Rick,” and because of “he’s got so much shame. He feels responsible for what the Claimers did,” that made him marry her those months ago. "He loves our ch—my child, and might love me, but it's not fair to him. He deserves better, h-he needs better, the man's been trapped all his life. I-I don't want him trapped, I want him happy!"

Gabe never played into her fears. He been no nonsense about all of it, told Y/N that she needed a damn rest, and asked her to tell him what she thought about it when she woke up.

The good thing was that after a 5 hour period of uninterrupted sleep (during which they used some of the goat's milk for TJ and Gracie), she woke up in a daze at why she’d thought an annulment was something Daryl needed or wanted.

The bad thing was, she was then socked in the gut with more unearned guilt for it, then with worry that she was too far gone, or crazy, all that.

Been a bad, bad few days.

Been a lot of Daryl showing her love that she felt not worth being shown. So that she fell asleep in his arms today was such a damn win!

After getting up to take a leak and finding that Y/N was miraculously still asleep, he thanked whoever was up there, then tried to figure out what else he could do to help her get through today…and right at that moment, TJ started to rouse, so he got his answer: keep their baby comforted. More shut-eye could only do his woman well.

Deftly lifting the little bundle into his arms, he'd kissed the scar above the baby’s upper lip and tiptoed out to the hall, where he was now.

Lightly he bounced, softly he shushed. He held TJ like a football and moved back and forth, back and forth. Babies smell so damn good, and make the cutest noises, goddamn.

After a couple minutes, through the open door, he peeked at his Y/N.

Shit. She was already sitting up and blinking off the sleep.

Whatever it was she did and said today, she felt low as hell about it, that much was clear. Without looking, she grabbed the now-broken picture frame and clutched it to her middle.

"You're supposed to be asleep, slowpoke," he tried to tease.

Her clothes had ashes from where it looked like she’d knelt down then sat down in the burned church. There was some dirt on them, too, from when she’d been at Carl’s grave. Daryl made a note to shake the sheets out later and pick the tissues up off the floor.

That's when the front door opened downstairs.

Was that Ri—good, that was Rick’s voice, he was finally there. There was a second voice, too, was that Father Gabriel’s? It was soft like Gabe's voice was.

Daryl looked downstairs.

Yup, it was Rick with the rev.

He waved them upstairs, but it must’ve been the clunking of the Gabriel’s new cane that got Y/N stumbling out of the room.

“Rev! I would’ve come to you, y-you need to be takin’ it easy.” She hugged the picture frame in one hand, gripped the banister in the other and started to go downstairs, asking Gabe how he felt, urging him to sit down, had his vision worsened, all that stuff.

“Y/N, more rest won’t stop me from losing sight in this eye,” Gabriel responded in his quiet way, remaining on the second step, not going up or down the stairs. He smiled. “You could say I’m the one making a house call to a patient this time."

She held back a sob and bowed her head. Then, she subtly slipped two fingers around the inside of her wrist…

Rick stepped the rest of the way up the stairs and put his hands on her shoulders. “What's going on, weirdo?”

“Ricky, I'm s-sorry."

He leaned closer and took her in for a hug. “Heart still beating?” he murmured.

Her inhale was shaky. “Mmhm. Yours?”

“Beating strong.”

TJ perked up and began to whimper upon hearing her voice. Y/N unzipped her hoodie to—she still had a gun on her?

Okay, that'd been stealth as fuck, it hadn't even been printing. It was the mini one she'd kept on her when they first got here, when Deanna insisted on keeping the weapons locked up. Still, he'd been literally holding her, how in the hell had he not noticed?

Daryl shared a glance with Gabe. Minus her screwdriver, she'd turned in her weapons after what happened the other day.

Y/N handed the small gun to Rick, who looked wary, but accepted it without question. She hesitated before reaching into her boot to hand over her screwdriver, too.

Daryl slid his hand around his wife’s waist to guide her back to the room. Without looking him in the eyes, she cupped his cheek and told him he was a good father. Then, frame still gripped under one arm, she took the baby into the other.

“Let’s try havin’ a snack before I go with Uncle Ricky awhile, okay, chickpea?” she murmured, then unbuttoned the top of her shirt.

Daryl took off his vest to give her some more coverage, then helped her with her top buttons. When he draped the vest around her, she'd turned her head to kiss his hand. He felt his cheeks warm when she did that.

Walking into the room again, she softly told Daryl that he and Rick could sit on the beds. First, she placed the picture frame on one of the mattresses. Next, with their baby latched on and suckling, she went to the end table at the window to sit down on the floor beside it. The way she sat, it was kinda as if she were using it as a shield.

“Rev, please take the chair,” she mumbled to Gabriel with a glance at the only piece of furniture in the room at the time, other than the bassinet, a nightstand, and the end table. Negan had specifically left the rocking chair as a 'gift' for her. The piece of shit...

Anyway, Daryl had got them their two twin mattresses back (hey, squish them together and you get a big-ass bed) the first trip to and from the Savior’s compound after the war ended, once the folk from Alexandria had begun to move back from the Hilltop. Only, no bed frames yet.

“And sweetheart, I’ll-I’ll take the pumps with me for while I’m in there. Wanna make sure you and Aaron have enough for them,” she said to him, voice still raw. Y/N turned to him and gave him a wobbly smile. “Sorry I used up so much of the tissue supply,” she tried making light, but got close to tears again, so stumbled through asking “Can I, um, Rick, m-might can I bring my pillow? Is that okay?”

Go with Rick where, and take the breast pumps and her pillow, why? He made eye contact with Gabriel, who looked just as puzzled. So, he turned to Rick.

Rick lowered his eyebrows as if he didn’t know what she meant, either. He squatted to sit down on the mattress beside Daryl, and looked at his sister. “Y/N, where are we headed?”

Glancing up from the baby to him then to Daryl, she adjusted TJ’s position on her breast while she figured out how to answer, by the looks of it. Another glance at her husband as if she were worried about his reaction...

“Rick, I thought you was here to…escort me?”

?

Daryl had no clear idea what she meant, it was the rev who understood first.

“No,” Father Gabriel told her gently. “Y/N, you aren’t under arrest.”

Under arrest? Daryl fought between the urge to get angry or dead-ass laugh. 'Under arrest??'

It was for real, though. His wife’s tears started flowing again as she turned her attention to Rick and began to stress, “There can’t be no special treatment—”

“—Is this why you handed me your weapons? Why would you be under arrest?” Rick cut her off to question.

She stared as if he’d grown antlers. “I s-struck a patient, and, and—”

“—And I slit his throat open, which is why that 'patient' is in there in the first place,” he cut her off again, firm.

Thankfully, TJ let out a wail the same time she wailed, “Ricky, y-you weren’t his medic!” pausing any further arguing.

Y/N gulped, pressed down on one breast, then the other. “I know there’s not much in ’em, Teddy-bear, but it-it’ll get better. It’ll come back,” she shushed, lifting him up and tucking herself back in. With a few kisses, she shushed, “You’ve gotten so much faster at drinkin', babycakes.”

Daryl got on the floor with her and took TJ back.

She avoided eye-contact again, and her lip wobbled again as she pulled the top of her shirt higher. That told him there’d been not much milk in there. And he could see all over her face that it was switching her on the legs with more false-ass, unearned guilt.

The familiar string in his chest suddenly tugged in her direction—next thing, he was resting his forehead on hers. “Hey. You’re makin’ more every day, angel,” he whispered in her ear. "And you're a damn good ma." Then, he started to help her button back up.

The way her expression softened and her body relaxed toward his felt better than fireworks going off on the Fourth 8th of July.

And as if he were back in that Georgia-in-July heat, Daryl just about melted right there on the floor when he saw his TJ, neck lifted high, making a face-scrunching, gummy smile at him. "Look how strong your neck is getting, ’lil badass, you’re rockin’ it!”

Shit, their kid was the best damn thing.

Y/N leaned against him and reached to lightly fluff their baby’s hair and rub their baby's teeny feet.

Gabriel sat in the rocking chair quietly, hands resting on his cane. He caught eyes with Daryl and nodded his head toward Y/N, glad to see her no longer convinced she needed to ‘free’ her husband.

Absorbed in the photo, Rick exhaled, then spoke up. “Y/N, how about we start from the beginning? What happened at the infirmary?”

She pressed tighter against Daryl as a pained noise left her throat. “Did you talk to Siddiq yet?” sounded very small.

“I want to talk to both of you.”

“And Michonne?”

He nodded. “She told me some.”

The big watch she’d kept from Dale tick-tick-ticked on her wrist. Then came the sound of light metallic clinking. Daryl didn’t have to look to see that she must’ve pulled out her brother’s necklace and was tugging on it.

“What I did ain’t excusable,” came out raspy and thick.

“It is," Rick answered.

“It’s not, especially not what I said to Sid—” a sob choked her response. She used Daryl's leather vest to hide her face before hugging it around herself like a blanket.

“Walk me through what happened first, kiddo, before you hit Negan with this?” Rick subtly gestured to the broken picture frame.

So she had smacked Negan in the face? Hot damn, Daryl was more in love with her already.

Y/N swallowed and shook her head. “They’d been lookin’ at it, the both of 'em.”

“At the picture?”

A tiny nod. “I’d left the room, and when I got back, they was looking at it. Siddiq brought it over to him. Tried to make like Negan was sad, too. Fuck that!”

TJ started rooting on his bicep again, but Daryl was on it. “Sorry, pipsqueak, I don’t got the right parts for that.” He started to massage the baby’s belly, and TJ quieted.

“It’s okay to let ’em cry a little, it-it helps restock these,” his wife tried joking, nodding down at her chest.

“Y/N.” Rick was delicate about coaxing her for more details. “You got back into the room, Siddiq and Negan were looking at the picture.”

“Negan’s filthy hands were on it,” she grit. "Lookin' at Carl and me, you with Shaney." The sounds of the pendant being pulled across the chain filled the room along with TJ’s soft cooing.

“Is that when you hit him with the frame?” Rick asked.

“No. I told him not to look at it again or touch it, and if he did, I’d hurt him.”

“Angel, slow your breathin’,” Daryl interjected at the same time that he figured out why those words sounded familiar: it was similar to how she'd warned the last Claimer fuckhead, the one who’d had Carl pinned down and was gon——Daryl shut down this brain for a sec, it was best not to think about that night.

He turned his head to see Rick, red-eyed, tracing his thumb along the photo of Carl, Y/N, Shane and him. Seems as if Rick had recognized her words, too.

“And when was it that you did hurt him?” Rick pressed on.

Y/N swallowed. “About half a minute later when he tried to act like it wasn’t his fault.”

Rick’s composure staggered and collapsed. His voice was hoarse when he managed to say, “It’s not his fault.”

But Y/N was fast to shut it down. “Don’t for one more second make like it’s yours, Ricky, you get that monkey off your back,” she comforted and somehow scolded both at once. “Negan was doing what Negan does when he, when he told you that. It was manipulation, nothin’ real. How C-Carl—” another choked-down sob, more tears.

Daryl noticed her press her fingertips to the spot under her chin, beside her jaw, checking her pulse to prove it was still beating.

“Negan had nothing to do with how Carl got bit,” Rick whispered. “You know it’s true, kiddo.”

“No—our boy wouldna ended up out there, w-with-with Siddiq, if it hadn’t been for Negan.” Her tone got louder and angry, her stress stutter became more noticeable, the way she tugged the necklace turned rougher. “He and his followers was why we weren’t able to trust no n-newcomers like Sid, which is why Sid was still out there alone, and, and, and why Carl went to him! It, it was because of Negan and his, and his, his-his cult!”

TJ seemed freaked out by the louder voice, the baby’s dark, blue-black eyes grown big.

Daryl spoke Y/N’s name to try and bring her back to herself, but she seemed to have very suddenly calmed.

She was blinking at her hand.

Daryl looked, and then saw the two halves of her brother Shane’s chain, broken.

“How many times did Carol warn me that this would happen when I tugged it,” she muttered to herself. "Good thing I didn't decide to tug on the rosary, huh?"

Inhaling, she leaned her head against the wall behind her, staring into space, fingers to her wrist to check her pulse again.

From beside her, he covered her hand in his. Then, pressing his lips to her fist, Daryl took the necklace from it. He could fix it.

“I lost my temper again, I’m sorry,” she spoke to all in the room, her hand cupping Daryl's cheek a moment. Then, more quietly, she looked at Rick. “How many days’ll I be in there?”

Which sent Daryl straight back to disbelief he was hearing those words, what absolute bullshit. “Y/N, you ain’t going nowhere.”

“You’re not going to a cell, Y/N,” Rick echoed.

“No special treatment,” she softly repeated. “If I were anybody else—”

Rick interrupted her “—It’s not about who you are.”

Father Gabriel had gotten up and was making his way to Y/N by then.

Y/N shook her head at the conversation, tired. “If I were anybody else or had any other role, and if he were anybody else,” she caught her breath, “there’d be reper-re-rep—” a few more tries, and she had to choose a different word, “consequences. Assault and battery on an un-unarmed person—a patient—from their medical provider, that’s serious.” Her hand was back to covering her face. She sat pressed against the wall, knees at her chest.

“You and Siddiq are the only doctors left. We couldn’t just put you in a cell even if you had earned it.”

“I ain't a doctor, at best, I’m a medic,” she grunted. “And I did earn it, just ask him and Michonne. As for my,” she made a shaky inhale, “my duties, I can be escorted out.”

“And TJ? Gracie?” Daryl put out there, hoping to guilt her out of insisting she get jail time, like, what the fuck. What kind of conversation was this?

Screw this, he couldn't even sit. He stood, shaking his head and pacing around the room, still holding TJ.

The expression on Y/N's face should’ve been enough to calm him down, along the defeated, quiet way she reasoned, “I’ll pump and y’all will visit. It’s—no, sweetheart—it’s only for a few days,” when he started to dead-ass leave. As if her being in there ‘only for a few days’ would help this bullshit make sense.

But that’s when he ended up snapping, “This is goddamn bullshit! You bopped a sick fuck on the nose with a picture frame, who in the hell will care? Rick, why you even entertainin' this shit?” and he regretted doing so as soon as he barked it out.

The old, invisible knee rammed him in the nards harder when Rick cautioned, "Brother," and Gabe finally opened his mouth, and louder than Daryl had ever heard him speak. “She cares, Daryl. So do I.”

And to make it all worse, their baby had given a start in fear when he’d shouted, and now the poor kid was screaming—and TJ doesn’t scream, shit, shit, he blew up while holding his child?

“M’sorry! M’sorry," he hushed to his baby, "I love you so much, kid, I’m so sorry I scared ya. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” With a kiss on TJ’s wild head of hair, he murmured, “Pipsqueak, your old man is an idiot.”

Y/N rushed over when TJ screamed, but she didn’t take the baby away from Daryl. Instead, she caressed her husband’s forearm and triceps and spoke to their child. “Your daddy’s got you safe,” she soothed.

He knew she was trying to look him in the eyes, but he couldn’t return it. He’d just scared an infant because he couldn’t check his temper. Their infant.

His wife’s quiet assurance cut through the rushing in his head. “Daryl? TJ ain’t hurt, sugar, and you’re not a bad father. Do some skin to skin, okay?” She pecked a kiss on his cheek. “And that's a dollar for cussing, pay up later.”

She then sat back down on the floor next to where the rev had made his new seat. Daryl took the now-empty rocking chair, unbuttoned his and TJ’s shirts, then nestled the kid on his chest.

Y/N then told the room the rest of what happened, how after Negan croaked out with what voice he had left, saying it 'wasn’t his fault Carl was dead', that she’d turned around and whacked him across the face with the frame.

Siddiq had reacted by grabbing her shoulders from behind to pull her away from Negan — so she had shoved back and kneed him in the dick plus rammed her head against his, dropping the frame in the process. The frame broke as a result—and when it broke, she'd lost her cool, said some shit, and threw some shit. Mich heard the hubbub and intervened, then Y/N hid herself away cause she 'knew' she was 'gone crazy.'

As far as Daryl was concerned, the new doc was lucky all he got was a shove, a knee to jewels, a clunk on the head, and some words and maybe a clipboard thrown at him, because Y/N could fight damned well. She'd had it drilled into her how and when to do it. Freely taught others moves, too.

When she’d showed Carol some techniques, way back, it was one of the things that sent him falling for her.

And…Y/N might’ve not said it out loud, but when she described how Siddiq grabbed her from behind to pull her away, everyone in that room got why it caused her to react strong.

What she described herself as doing would’ve been instinct.

Siddiq wouldn’t know why. Negan might, the fucker had watched the tape of her Deanna interview.

“See?” Y/N blew her nose again, sniffed, and stared at the floorboards. “It’s not right to Sid or the community to, to have what I did go unchecked. And what I said to Siddiq was so cruel. What’s worse is I meant it. Fuck, I still do.”

What she'd said was basically that she wished he’d gotten bit instead of Carl, and that it was just as much Siddiq's fault that the boy was dead as it was Negan’s. That 'he should be dead.'

She grimaced, then caressed the watch on her wrist. Must’ve been thinking of Dale. “Ain’t fair to…Negan, neither. If there’s anything Carl wanted us to understand, it’s that,” she whispered.

Rick lifted the frame to kiss his son’s picture, wiped a couple tears away. “When I talked with Sid, he was…alarmed. Worried. He thought it was off-character.”

Y/N went rigid where she sat. “Siddiq wasn’t there two years ago.”

Daryl lifted the baby higher on his chest and snuggled closer.

Rick shook his head. “You wishing someone dead, or, dead instead of another, is very off-character, it’s not you. No—don’t shake your head, Y/N.” Her brother maintained, “Even back then, after what happened, you didn’t wish me dead. You wished that Shane was still alive, not that I was dead instead. Even if you did say those things, it wouldn't have been the truth, just the hurt speaking.”

“I attacked you and told you I would kill you. And I-I meant it at the time, you know that.”

“And for a couple days, you left, because you didn’t actually want that. You knew it was wrong.”

“Which is why I need to get put away for a couple days. I decided to hurt a patient and his doctor, my own fr—” She wasn’t able to say what was probably the word ‘friend.’ Y/N bit her lip, and continued, “Then hurled words at him what nobody should get hurled at them.” She swallowed a cuss and grabbed another tissue.

“You’re exhausted, Siddiq knows that.” Rick pointed out. “We’re not ourselves when we’re—”

Y/N wasn’t having it. Probably too exhausted, to tell the truth.

“We’re all exhausted. C’mon, man, you just lost your son!” A sob left her and she tried to breathe through her nose. Checked her pulse again.

“You were also reacting to how he yanked you back, kiddo. That's not nothing.”

Daryl gave Rick a warning glance.

Rick saw, nodded, and held up a hand, which made Y/N turn to see what Daryl was doing. But Daryl simply kissed TJ on the head, not saying nothing.

She wasn’t fooled. When Y/N looked back at Rick after giving her husband a look of it’s okay, Daryl gave Rick another warning glare, then a nod.

“You didn’t react like that without reason, Y/N. There’s no shame to admit it was a trigger.”

She grumbled at the word. “Trauma ain’t an excuse to traumatize others.” After exhaling, she ran her hands over her face and took a moment. Hardly louder than a whisper, she challenged, “Ricky, not all my problems stem from the rapes. I’ve always been too hot-headed.”

At that moment, Daryl wanted to scoop her and TJ up and drive them away from everything, keep the two of them safe and unbothered for a month or two or four.

“Getting grabbed like that m-might, y’know, might could’ve reminded me of it—when they—" She ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, it did get me going. But, I,” she paused. “It wasn’t that I saw red or blacked out, I chose to keep goin’ once I’d started. I threw stuff because I was raging, I didn't want to stop because I thought he deserved it.”

Y/N fiddled with Dale’s watch, and turned to Father Gabriel beside her and almost smiled at him, close to the way she used to smile at Glenn, as if he were in on a joke. “Here I’d hoped I was re-domesticated by now.”

“Let us give thanks that you’re still housebroken,” he responded, taking Daryl by surprise. "You're...still housebroken, are you not?"

The way Y/N then cracked up and grinned woke up the butterflies in his stomach.

“Y/N, you’ve come miles since I first met you,” Gabriel told her softly, smiling back.

“All the way from Georgia,” she joked back, then grew more serious. “You’ve grown a whole lot, too.” She wiped her eyes, and Gabe closed his.

“And Y/N,” he shook his head. “You aren’t losing your humanity. I know you’re frightened of that, after what you told me happened to your other brother.”

It hadn’t even registered in Daryl’s mind that Shane’s memory would be scaring her. She loved her brother like hell, but she was always terrified of going down the same path he did.

He looked to Rick to see what his reaction was. His reaction was tear-rimmed eyes and a nod of his head toward TJ, silently asking if he could hold the baby awhile. Daryl nodded, Rick stood, and returned Y/N the frame as he walked by to pick up the little one.

Hands empty, Daryl took out his army knife and the broken chain from his pocket so he could fix his woman’s necklace. Wasn’t gonna be hard.

He heard Y/N whisper, “Hey, punk," to Carl in the photo. "Miss you. Miss you, too, loser,” she said to her brother's photo. He let his eyes travel to where she sat under the window, and watched her kiss the picture and well up. It was the old one of her and preschool-age Carl photo-bombing Rick and Shane, after one of them got some kind of cop award.

Clutching the frame once more to her belly, she and Father Gabriel then started to talk in low voices with one another.

“The red haze in your right sclera is so close to bein' clear. Did you talk to Rosie today? She’s been seeming less depressed.”

“I thought this was me visiting my patient, not the other way around,” Gabe gently hinted. “Y/N, please talk to me.”

Daryl heard her sniffle. “Rev, but I don’t want to have meant those words. I’ve been workin’ on it. It-it might be his fault, but I know he’s innocent, he’s humane—Sid even counts walkers like I do, man, yet still, I—” her breathing shuddered. “After whatever this mess is kicked in, every time I see him now, I hate him. Why do I hate a decent person?”

“Grief,” he offered simply. He gave her another shrug and small smile. “Keep doing what you have been. It will get easier every day, the same way your, um,” he was careful about his wording regarding her tits, “that you have more for the little ones every day.”

She huffed but didn’t raise her voice again, she stayed quiet as could be. “It don’t feel like none of that’s happening.”

“Our perception of things doesn’t always equal the truth, Y/N.” Gabe seemed to take a moment. Maybe he was praying.

Y/N’s fingers found her pulse again.

“We are all healing,” Gabriel next said, and smiled again. “Your heart is still beating, is it not?”

Y/N stared for a few moments, caught in the act. Eyes meeting Daryl’s for a moment, she removed her fingers from her neck, and inclined her head at the reverend. “What about yours?” she asked softly.

“Still beating. And that’s the proof,” he assured her just as softly. “Y/N, as for the way you understand your actions and your emotions toward him as not being right, I would like you to take it as a comforting sign. And, you just handed over a weapon you plainly wanted to keep concealed, you didn’t use said weapon to hurt Negan, either,” he pointed out, for which Daryl was grateful. “Perhaps, if you begin to make excuses, begin to feel no sense of having done wrong when you have, I will worry.”

Weirdly enough, he next grinned up at the ceiling. “But I am not, because you are simply broken and in need of healing. You’ll get there, as will I,” he held his hand out to the room. “As will your brother, your husband. All of us.” He sighed. “So long as our hearts are still beating.”

Daryl looked back at his wife in time to see her bit her wobbling lip and nod. Her gaze turned to Rick with the baby. He was kissing TJ’s scrawny little feet.

Her face softened seeing them, and as Daryl’s stomach fluttered again, she turned to look at him. His stomach full-on did a happy flip (and, yeah, he lost his grip on the necklace’s broken link and dropped it).

Y/N said to Rick, “Well, we still need to show ’em that Alexandria—that you—are accountable and fair. How many nights will do, you think?”

Rick shook his head. “Zero. But, because you have a point and won't take 'zero' as an answer,” he quickly added, “how about one?”

“For a piggy, you’re actin’ awful chicken.”

He was unmoved by the cop joke. “Bawk, bawk.”

And Y/N laughed, for what it was worth. And it was worth everything, hot damn was that laugh the best sound.

Daryl figured he might as well check, “What about bail, that still a thing?”

“Not with you owing a whole dollar. That’ll take weeks to pay off,” she said, back to doing her best to lighten up things. He loved her so fucking much, goddamn.

“Supervision when outside the cell,” she stated to Rick.

He shook his head again. “I have a better sentence in mind. When I saw you wearing Lori’s belt earlier today, it reminded me of it. See, and you left this at the infirmary.” He reached into his jacket pocket.

Recognition swept across her face when he held it out. “Do you think he’ll feel safe?”

“The headphone cord is too thin to choke him with, it’d snap.”

“Ricky, that joke was very dark,” she lightly chided.

He squinted, kissing TJ’s feet one more time first. “I hereby sentence you to one night—”

“—Three.”

“One in lock-up,” he spoke over her, then was fast to tack on, “with Daryl and this one as guards.” He motioned to the baby.

"Women shouldn't have male guards," she dryly droned.

"Overruled. You'll also get supervised outings for your duties tomorrow and the day after, including the trip to the Hilltop for Maggie’s prenatal visit. And,” he held up the music player, “you’ll need to listen to music with Siddiq on this. We know it works.” He cocked his head. “Let’s start with 20 minutes per day, like you and I had.”

Some tears slipped out even though she was smiling. She mouthed I love you to him, then asked out loud, “How many days?”

Rick squinted. “Fourteen.”

---------------------------

You

“You pick the songs. Whatever you like,” you told him, staring at the photo and rubbing the ‘22’ pendant over your lips. Daryl fixed the chain for you shortly after you’d broken it. You really love him.

Sid accepted the mp3 player out of your hand.

You and he each had one earbud in, one apple beside you, and Michonne sat nearby with Judith. Supervision was your stipulation, yet being proactive about ensuring it had done nothing for how humiliating it was.

Still, you took an objective look and figured Siddiq should know that his safety mattered, that your people were fair and held themselves to standards.

Just looking around the place, it looked as if standards were a given here. That Alexandria’s power grid and some panels were already repaired within two weeks of Negan’s razing was almost unbelievable.

Sucks for the Saviors that cult that the Alexandria community had been built to withstand up to magnitude 4.1 earthquakes and be fairly fire-safe as part of its self-sustaining (and for-politicians) model, so in the least, a good number of the homes were still standing.

Carl's gazebo was another story, as were other similar structures, like the church, but the ash had been washed off by the rain, and the communities' walls were back up.

Next to you, Siddiq asked you how to work the mp3, citing, “Carl had been the one to…”

Had been the one to work it when he borrowed it to visit you out there, in order to show you some kindness. Before he got himself bit because of you.

The words festered inside of you. Whatever. Let them fester, you felt dead anyway.

As you went to point to show him, the picture hung from your outstretched, bandaged hand. The pic you'd chosen this time was another older one from the before-times, not one of the newer polaroids. You'd been the one to take it, actually, using a disposable camera about five and a half, maybe six years ago.

It was blurry, Lori and Carl had been being silly and stopped posing, Rick was mid-comment. You loved this one.

It felt so unreal now, felt fake.

Felt dead.

You checked your pulse. Still beating.

“The, um, just use-use those two buttons there for up and down to search,” you mumbled, tucking the photograph into your shirt pocket. “That one is for back, that one for options. Press down on the middle to click.”

He went huh. “Here’s the Indian music playlist,” he chuckled. Appears he’d found the Desi Party! playlist. Carl told you he’d played it for him.

Before he’d gotten fucking bitten.

How could your heart rage and ache so much if you were dead?

“It’s got all sorts on it,” you replied blankly to Siddiq. Remembering your oldest sister who’d made all the playlists before handing her mp3 down to you, it felt like she was made up. All your siblings except Shane felt made up. Your own mother, the foster siblings over the years, they felt made up, too.

Felt like everyone before was made up.

Fake.

Dead.

“My mother was a big filmi fan,” Siddiq shared.

But you simply repeated, “Pick whatever you like, you’re in charge of the songs.”

There was no emotion in your voice. You didn’t want to chat with him, didn’t want to nerd out about Bollywood music, and also didn’t want to face him after saying such awful things to him early today.

Hating him felt right. It felt "deserved," which is a word you'd learned to not use, thanks to Dale.

Granted, hating Siddiq felt wrong, too, which invited shame to take a seat on your lap.

So, you followed the rev’s advice and took comfort in the shame because it meant your conscience was still ordered in a good direction. It meant you weren’t fully dead yet.

You checked your pulse again to remind yourself that it was still beating. Life was still going. You even have a child that fills you with such an intense, aching, healing love.

Father Gabriel also told you that feeling dead didn’t make you a bad mother or a bad wife or bad person, it simply meant you were broken and grieving.

“Y/N?”

“What?” you growled — and immediately wished it hadn’t come out that way. In your head, you told Carl you were sorry, you’d do better next time. Then, you prayed to stop hating the sight of Siddiq, the sound of his voice. Wished Dale or Hershel or Glenn or T-Dog or Deanna or Denise or Sasha were there for, for—advice, support, you don’t know…

And because the rev has enough on his plate and needs to rest, maybe later you’d risk everyone’s ire and sneak away to visit Mr. Jones at the junkyard. At least he wasn’t dead yet, too. Maybe visiting him would convince him to move back to Alexandria.

“I never apologized for pulling you backward like that,” Siddiq said to you, a little short. Couldn’t blame him.

In truth, you had done all you were going to do to Negan after smacking him the once, but Sid wouldn’t have known that. Wouldn’t have known how grabbing you like that would flip an alarm, either.

No use moping, if your positions were reversed, you’d have wrangled him back, too.

And yet, you just caught yourself licking your teeth and sneering in response to his apology.

But it wasn’t out of anger or hatred so much as…you still aren’t certain what the emotion was. Grief, depression, shame, all three. You supposed it didn’t make a difference. Didn’t feel like much of anything.

Briefly, you put two fingers to your neck to check your pulse again. Still beating. Still alive.

Alive, and needing to eat some crow, as it were.

“Don’t apologize, you were protectin’ our patient. What I did was wrong,” you recited. “I-I threatened a patient and then whacked him across the face.” Your conscience then prompted you to apologize again for what you’d said to him. “And, just—Siddiq, what I said to you was bullshit and lies and m'sorry I said it. Cruel bullshit, naught else. Don’t go believing a word of it.”

He wasn’t clicking through the playlists and songs anymore.

Appearing uncomfortable, he peeked at you before he put his attention back on the mp3. “Michonne said pulling you like that was a trigger, which is why you, um…I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t know.”

First, you relaxed your jaw. “Ain’t your job to know. It’s mine to learn past it.” Next, you spackled on something of a smile and added quietly, “It’s good that you, that you stepped in. Thank you.” You did mean it, for what it was worth.

How many minutes until the twenty was up, you wondered, and tried to not be obvious about checking the time on your wrist. Eyeing Michonne, she seemed more preoccupied with Judith than with being punctual regarding your penance/sentence.

“PTSD is serious. That’s why I’m sorry, I, um,” Siddiq faltered. He went back to clicking through the music choices.

“We all have at least a little PTSD, bud.” With a light nudge to try and convey camaraderie or something, you attempted to tease, “C'mon, you chosen at least one song, yet?”

“Sorry, let me just, uh…” and with a few more clicks, the first song started. It was Bohemian Rhapsody.

“You chose the playlist ‘Songs Everyone Likes.’”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, figured I couldn’t go wrong with that one.”

The memory of belting out this song with Carl, Glenn, Beth, and Maggie before your group even found the prison whooshed back and you started to smile—until you remembered that Carl was gone now. He was dead.

You’d forgotten all of that for hot second, but your Carl was dead. So was Glenn. So was Beth. So was Lori, who'd joined, so was T-Dog, so was...

Maybe you were dead, too. You felt dead—so, you pressed your fingers to your neck to feel for a pulse.

Still beating.

The lyrics of the song began to register. You know, the early parts like ‘I don’t wanna die,’ and ‘carry on, as if nothing really matters.’ Sounded a little too personal, tell you the truth.

And just like that, the song was skipped. You glanced at Siddiq.

He shook his head. “Not the right mood for it.”

“Mm.”

The intro to the next song in the shuffle was very bouncy, and ‘Dance to the Music’ started to jive through the earbuds. You didn’t sway along like you naturally would have. No urge to.

The song played, finished.

“First time I heard this was in Shrek,” Siddiq made small talk while munching on his apple. “Love that movie.”

You might’ve hummed in acknowledgment, you aren’t sure. He handed your apple to you, you took it. Held it.

The next song started, ‘Young Hearts Run Free.’

The song played, finished.

Siddiq made more small talk. “I remember that one in Romeo + Juliet, the one with, um, Claire Danes? We watched that version in high school after we finished reading it.”

You hummed again. Pressed your fingers to your wrist, just in case. But no, your heart was still beating.

The next song started, ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash.’

“A lot of oldies,” he commented once the singing began. He took the final nibble off his apple.

“But goodies,” you responded, willing yourself to sound less stiff and monotone. “Modern stuff is on this playlist, too, don’t worry.”

The song played. Finished.

The next song started. ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’ Siddiq promptly skipped it once the refrain started and the lyrics sank in.

“Good call,” you grunted.

The next song started. ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.’

“Oh n—please skip this one, too." You loved that one, but you’d queued it up for Glenn at his and Maggie’s wedding, and it was not the time to go reminiscing. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Checked your pulse. Still beating. "Please skip 'Thunderstruck' if it comes on, too?”

The mp3 player clicked as Siddiq skipped the song. Next on the shuffle was ‘Under Pressure.’

He adjusted his seat and coughed. “This one fits.”

A combination sigh/groan was your contribution, because he was right. The two of you were the only doctors major medical personnel left standing.

The song played. Siddiq’s knees and wrists bounced to the rhythm where he sat beside you. You stared at your boots. Where’d all the soot and dirt on them and your clothes come from, you couldn’t remember…

…

It was when a strong gust of cold wind blew that you noticed that the music had stopped, your earbud was out, and the sky wasn’t as cloudy anymore.

When did that happen?

You sat up and blinked a few times, your apple still in one hand, Shane’s necklace in the other.

“Hey,” you heard Siddiq call.

What, why were your cheeks wet? “S-sorry, I,” you dropped the necklace, wiped your eyes with your sleeve, and put the apple down, “must’ve, um, checked out.”

“I’m not sure how long it was after it began when I noticed the change,” he let you know. “Is…this what happened earlier?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Earlier was somethin’ else. This was just—” ‘Dissociation,’ was a misunderstood word, so Denise taught you. And you didn’t want to use the word for that reason.

You really wanted to keep a shred of dignity for yourself in the eyes of that guy. He didn’t even know that you’d hurt yourself when you’d ‘blacked out’ the other day…so, you decided upon a white lie highly euphemistic layman's term. “I spaced out.”

He nodded, but his brows sunk, as if he weren’t buying it.

And when he did that thing where someone slightly opens their mouth because they’ve put together a response, you changed the subject. “Listen to anythin’ good while I was in space?”

Siddiq wasn’t swayed. “Do you still feel detached?”

“A little,” you answered truthfully, inhaling deep and checking your watch to try gauging how long you’d been out. Except, you had no recollection of what time it had been earlier, so it was a bust. God save you, you were a mess.

“Sid. I’m sorry you’re trapped dealin’ with this shit, it ain’t fair to you. If, if you wanna bounce early, don’t feel obligated to stay, and, and—like, if you don’t wanna do this whole music thing, it’s fine. W-we don’t want you feelin’ unsafe.”

“Unsafe? Y/N, I…” he paused. “I forgive you for what you said earlier. And I’m not scared of you. Hitting Negan wasn’t okay, but…” another pause. “Compared to the way most others are baying for his blood and how you defended saving his life, I mean—you helped me save him, Y/N—” He lifted his hands, palms to the sky. “You’re my friend, we work together, it’s not like I can’t see that you’re drowning.”

Nothing prepared you to hear that.

He was calling you a friend and was still trying to be understanding, after all that…

You wanted to slam your head on a hard, rough surface and cry from the shame and simultaneous relief. You also didn’t want to accept it, and so pushed back: “You were alone out there too long. Friends d-don’t tell friends they wish they were dead.” And mean it, you did not confess.

But of all things, he merely raised one shoulder and snorted. “I’m a really good friend?”

Tears spilled at the same time that you almost laughed.

No, it's true, you almost laughed. Things felt a little unreal again, but in not a bad way. The most you could do right then was send up thanks for the mercy that came out of the mess. You pinched your wrist first, then felt for your pulse.

“Compared to a few minutes ago, do you feel more like yourself now?” Siddiq made sure.

Huh. You used to ask Shane a very similar question, when he was forgetting his goodness.

You kept feeling the small beats at your wrist, reminding you that you were indeed alive, therefore capable of healing and growth.

“Heart’s still beating,” you sniffled, making yourself smile at him. The hatred and disgust you’d felt earlier seemed to you less like a fact and more like a bad dream.

Then, from the far right of the oak tree, you heard Aaron’s voice saying, “Not yet, man, they’ve got four minutes left.”

Aaron and Daryl then came into view. They waved to you as they walked by with the babies, another reminder that you that you weren’t fully dead inside. Gracie was in a stroller, TJ was bundled in Daryl’s arms. Your husband lingered behind, eyes on you as he absently pecked a kiss to your baby’s covered head.

Something stirred, and your chest fluttered and tugged in their direction, reminding you again that your heart was still beating. So was Maggie’s, so was her and Glenn’s baby’s, so was Rick’s, so was Aaron’s. Life was still going. You had a child, a husband; lifelines. Their hearts were still beating, too.

The unexpected wink and the way Daryl’s gaze softened as he looked at you made you feel as if you’d been freezing and someone just handed you a cup of cocoa with mini marshmallows. The way he next moved his lips to pronounce ‘troublemaker,’ however, you ought to have seen coming a mile away.

The heaviness in your body eased a bit. A smile started prodding the corners of your mouth. Shyly, you returned the wave and mouthed ‘mangy hick,’ your wrist bumping against the photograph sticking from your shirt pocket.

Aaron noticed him acting like a dope lagging and gestured for him to keep up. “Four more minutes and we’ll come back to get her.”

Daryl called out "slowpoke," and waved your baby’s little arm to the two of you as they walked away. He kept peeking behind him, too, it warmed you. When they reached far enough, you once again took the photograph out from your pocket.

With a final peek at Carl’s picture, you sent up a prayer and reaffirmed the promise that you’d made to him. That you’d live for him, do him proud.

So long as your heart was still beating, you’d try to do him proud. “Seems you and I got four more minutes, Sid. What’ll we pick?”

-------------------------

> Masterlist link here

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---------------------------

And here's the picture prize for getting through the long chapter!

[itsmiyamore]

Collaboration Project! Looking for Ushiten + Kuroken writer(s)

About

Hi guys so while I was digging through my old works I found an abandoned project from years ago (2021?) and I kind of want to pick it back up

It's for Haikyuu pairings based on different songs from the Trying Season 2 Apple TV Soundtrack and I'm looking for someone who would be interested in writing Neck of the Woods for Ushiten and someone who could write Helicopter for Kuroken! I'm just not sure I can do these pairings justice :)

Guidelines

✿ SFW only ✿ No angst ending (in the middle is fine, the ending must only be fluff or hurt/comfort) ✿ Minimum 1k word count ✿ To sign up, send an ask specifying which pairing you're interested in, or sign up for both! Even if you sign up for both, I may only select you for one so please specify if you have a preference :) ✿ I plan on posting these to AO3; if you don't have an AO3 account I would prefer you make your own, but if you don't want to I will post it for you and credit/link your Tumblr account ✿ If you have an AO3, you can post it to your own account while adding me as a co-author so I can still add it to the series! ✿ I did start to write a little and/or had ideas of where to take it, you can choose to work off of what I have or rewrite it entirely! I do ask you to discuss your general ideas with me though :) ✿ PLEASE DON'T DISCUSS THE DETAILS OF YOUR FIC WITH ANYONE OUTSIDE THE PROJECT!! If you need a beta reader, I will happily do that for you (I don't bite, I promise), and if there's another writer for the other fic then you can totally talk to them about it too! ✿ Ushiten Specific: Preferably from Tendou's POV

Deadlines

Ushiten: Preferably by mid-August but no worries if it's not ready. However, since I want to post these fics in the same order as the album tracklist, I do have to post this one first :) Kuroken: As mentioned above, I want to post these in order and Kuroken is 4th in the list. I'm writing the 2nd and 3rd works, so your deadline will depend on how quickly I can get those done; I'll assign a more concrete deadline after the 2nd work is uploaded!

Applications will close at the end of the day on August 7th (CST).

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[chredded-cheese]

Jasico Royal AU Fluff Oneshot

Hi! Anon requested a Jasico Royal AU Fluff Oneshot so here you go :3 Prince!Nico + Knight!Jason

this was made with the help of @multifandom-asexual who came up with Jason's dialogue and like half the plot

Word Count: 1430

Genre: Fluff

Characters: Nico Di Angelo/Jason Grace

Pov: Nico, 3rd person

He’s walking through the castle halls, late at night, unable to sleep. He hears footsteps down the hall and Sir Grace appears around the corner. 

“Oh, uhm, hey Nico!” he says with an awkward wave. 

“Hi Jason,” he replies.

“So, why are you not in bed, mister? A prince like you needs his beauty sleep,” Jason scolds.

He shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. I’ll go to sleep if you’re with me though. Preferably with cuddles…” 

Jason blushes, and Nico grins. “H-heh?! Oh, um, sure!” Jason chuckles awkwardly. 

“Alright,” he says. “Come with me.”

“Lead the way, my prince,” Jason says with a bow. 

“No need for formalities, Jason. Follow me.”

“Yes sir,” Jason grins. Nico rolls his eyes but as he turns down the corridor he grins lightly. When he stops at the door to his room, Jason opens it for him. 

“Thank you, my knight,” he says with a smile. Jason nods and smiles back. Nico loves his smile. He flops down on his bed, Jason still standing awkwardly by the door. “Are you gonna join me or what? I was promised cuddles,” he says with a flirtatious grin. 

Jason blushes. “Are you sure that’s okay?” he says anxiously. 

“Yes,” Nico grins. 

“I- uh- okay,” Jason says and sits gently on the edge of his bed.

“This is not cuddling. C’mere!” he says and pulls Jason to him.

“Neeks-”

“Mhm! Cuddles…” he sighs as he snuggles into Jason's chest. Jason starts playing with Nico’s hair, and he can feel that he’s still tense. “You don’t seem very relaxed,” he says and looks up at Jason.

“Well, uh, what if we get caught?” 

Nico laughs. “I’m the prince, Jason. Nobody can do anything to me, and I will always make sure that nothing happens to you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Jason smiles. Nico feels himself getting tired as he snuggles deeper into Jason’s embrace. 

“Nico? Sir?” 

“Yes?” 

Jason leans closer to him, then suddenly their lips meet in a gentle kiss. Jason breaks quickly, bringing his hand to his lips.

“Shoot. I am so sorry- I don’t know why I did that-” Jason sits up, causing Nico to fall out of his arms.

“Oh! Uhmm,” he sputters and turns away, laying on his back. “Uh, I think that was okay, actually…” 

“C-can I do it again?” Jason stutters as he pulls Nico back to him.

“Y-yeah,” he turns his head to look up at Jason, and their lips meet again.

“Was that okay? I mean, I can leave if you want-” Jason says hurriedly and starts to get up. 

“No! Please don’t leave,” he says and grabs Jason’s wrist. Jason stops and looks back at Nico, anxiety painted across his face. “It’s okay.” 

Jason’s face softens and he lets himself be pulled back into bed. He snuggles back into Jason’s chest and falls asleep sooner than he ever has. 

~~~

Jason’s already awake when Nico wakes up and yawns sleepily. It’s still dark outside his window. 

“Woah,” Jason says.

“What?” Nico asks, still half asleep.

“You’re really really cute.”

Nico can feel himself blush, but can’t resist saying the same. “You’re really really pretty.” 

“No you, my moonlight.”

“No you, my star shine.” 

Jason blushes and hides his face in the pillow. Nico smiles lovingly at him, and Jason peeks from his pillow-submerged fate. Nico grins and cuddles up to Jason again, falling back into slumber. 

~~

When he wakes up again, Jason is gone. Nico gets worried and decides to roam the halls and find him. 

He exits his room slowly, just to find Jason coming around the corner. 

“My prince, you’re not supposed to be up this late,” Jason scolds. 

“I came to find you, my knight. I got worried when I woke up without you by my side,” Nico says playfully. 

Jason blushes. “O-oh. Uhm. I had to patrol the halls, I do this every night.” 

“Well, as long as you’re keeping me safe, my knight,” he says and with a surge of confidence, gives Jason a kiss before dashing into his room. He locks the door behind him and leans against it, blushing. 

“Nico?” Jason’s muffled voice comes through the door.

“I-um thought you were supposed to be patrolling the halls,” he stutters. 

“Well now I want more kisses, my prince,” Jason teases. 

“You should get back to work Sir Grace. Keeping the castle safe and all.”

“The castle can wait, little prince.”

Nico sighs and unlocks his door. 

“Hi Nico,” Jason says and grabs his wrist, dragging him down the hall. “Jason! Where are we going?!” 

“My room. My bed’s comfier.”

“Jason, I’m the prince. My bed is one of the finest in the castle.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Come on.”

Nico gets dragged along begrudgingly, then notices they’re not going to Jason’s room. 

“Jason, this is not the way to your room. Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see, my moonlight.” 

Nico blushes, flustered. “Okay.” Jason pulls him into a kiss then continues dragging Nico along. He blushes more, then realizes where they’re going. “The roof! I love the roof!” He says, a smile blooming on his face. 

“I knew you’d like it, my moonlight,” Jason croons and brings them to the room. 

“The stars are my favorite,” Nico sighs “they remind me of you, my star shine.”

Jason blushes. “I like the moon…”

Nico gazes at him lovingly, then pulls him into a firm kiss. He whispers very quietly, knowing Jason won’t hear. “I love you…”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, uhm, nothing.”

Jason grins. “Your lips are really soft.”

Nico blushes. “Shut up. Do you wanna dance?”

“Ah. Well, uh- I… don’t really know how to dance?” 

“Then this is the perfect time to learn darling.” 

“Y-yes sir.”

Nico smiles widely, gazing at Jason. “Ok, so uhm, you’ll put your hands here…” he instructs, placing Jason’s hands around his waist “and I’ll put mine around your neck, okay?”

Jason blushes, but nods. “Uh-huh…”

Slowly, Jason seems to get the hang of it as they spin around the roof. Nico starts to hum a tune as they sway together under the moonlight. 

“You’re so handsome, my knight. My star shine.” Nico says lovingly. 

“You, my prince. Not me.”

“Don’t ruin the moment, darling. You’re very pretty… now let's just dance, okay?”

“I actually meant for us to stargaze…” Jason trails off, looking at the sky. 

“That’s probably a better idea. You’ve stepped on my feet at least twelve times,” Nico teases. 

“My bad-”

“It’s alright darling,” Nico says and lays down at the roof, admiring the clear night sky. Jason lays down next to him, pulling him closer to his chest. “Can I tell you something?” Nico asks tentatively.

“Go ahead.” 

“I think, I uhm, love you…” he says, his face blotchy with blush. 

“Oh!” Jason says, his face starting to match Nico’s.

Nico starts to overthink, thoughts racing. “Sorry, uhm was that too much too soon? I can just go…” he says and starts to get up. Before he can leave, however, Jason pulls him back down. 

“Would this ease your worries, pretty boy?” Jason says, kissing him. Nico kisses him back gently, still hesitant. 

“Kinda.”

Jason frowns and kisses him again with more force and confidence. Nico kisses back with a bit more confidence, but still light. Jason smiles into the kiss, and Nico breaks away, gazing at Jason.

“Hi pretty boy,” Jason flirts. 

“Hi my star shine,” he replies. “Do you see any constellations, my love?” 

“No, but I see you. My moon.” 

Nico grins. 

“Nico?” Jason asks.

“Yes, Jason?”

“Follow me, my pretty boy,” Jason says and takes Nico’s hand, leading him back into the castle.

“Where are you taking me now, my knight?”

“My room. I’m sleepy. Want cuddles.” 

Nico smiles lovingly, squeezing Jason’s hand gently.  “Okay my love. Of course we can cuddle.” Jason smiles back. They arrive at Jason’s room, and Nico is eager. “It’s cuddle time Sir Grace!”

“Yes Sir,” Jason says with a bow. Nico grins. “I’m surprised you aren’t telling me off for being formal.”

“Hmm. Fair enough. Just tired I guess.”

Jason climbs into his twin-sized bed, making a grabby motion. “C’mere.” 

Nico squeezes in next to him and snuggles into his arms. 

“My pretty prince,” Jason says, kissing the top of Nico’s head. “Goodnight my moonlight.”

“Goodnight, star shine.”

Jason starts playing with Nico’s hair as he holds him. He gives Jason a quick kiss before snuggling back into him and drifting to sleep. 

“How are you so cute?” Jason whispers and holds Nico’s face in his hands.

“Jason, I am trying to sleep. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.” 

[notalotjust4ever]

Welcome to my blog! 🎀

REQUESTS

WHAT I WILL WRITE FOR

No x Reader im sorry lovelies</3

TWILIGHT

Jasper Hale X Alice Cullen (ROMANTIC ONLY)

Bella Swan X Edward Cullen (PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC)

Rosalie Hale X Emmet Cullen (ROMANTIC ONLY)

Carlisle Cullen X Esme Cullen (ROMANTIC ONLY)

Renesmee + Any of the Cullens/ EX: Renesmee + Rosalie (PLATONIC ONLY)

Any of the Cullens + Any of the Cullens/ EX: Jasper + Rosalie (PLATONIC ONLY)

Any of the Cullen’s + Bella/ EX: Bella + Emmet (PLATONIC ONLY)

SPIDERMAN (RAIMIVERSE)

Harry Osborn X Peter Parker (PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC)

Mary Jane X Harry Osborn (PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC)

Mary Jane X Harry Osborn X Peter Parker (PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC)

⋰˚☆ ⋰˚☆ ⋰˚☆ ⋰˚☆ ⋰˚☆ ⋰˚☆ ⋰˚

A GUIDE TO MY ASKS

WHAT I WILL 🚫NOT WRITE

Bathroom kInks (Pi$$/ Vomit/ Sc@t/ EprOctO/ EructO)🚫

KInks I am personally not into (Foot kInk, Feeder!sm/ WG kInk, vOre, InflatiOn)🚫

Necro🚫

Sexualized age regression🚫

!ncest/ !ncest play🚫

Su!cide/ Self-Harm, I will write suicidal thoughts or a character in recovery from self-harm but not somebody in the process of doing harm to their body or taking their life!!

R@pe, Non-Con, Dub-Con, or Consented Non-Con🚫

NSFW about any character under 18+ (Renesmee) 🚫

Anything I deem too toxic or aggressive, abuse, extreme yandere, violent NSFW🚫

Extremely violent and detailed murd3r, body horror, gor3🚫

Kn!fes in the bedroom🚫

Threat RP🚫

Any text that encourages an ED, I will write characters suffering from an ED/in recovery from an ED, but no pro-@na/ED propaganda🚫

Major character death🚫

Extreme angst🚫

Racism🚫

Any other POV than 3rd person (just a personal preference!) 🚫

Character X Reader (also personal preference!)🚫

WHAT I ✅WILL ✅WRITE

Characters with a disability or chronic illness! I'm actually so happy to write these, as a person with a chronic illness I believe representation is important in all forms (yes even fan-fiction). These requests might take a bit longer though just because I would like to do my research so I can portray the disability/ chronic illness correctly.✅

Neurodivergent Characters! (Written by neurodivergent author:D) ✅

Characters who you head canon as not cis! I also have my personal headcannons and not all of them line up with the canon so of course will be happy to write any character as trans (MTF/FTM), Non-binary, or gender fluid:) gender is beautiful folks!✅

Mild yandere behavior✅

Slightly suggestive works (WILL HAVE A WARNING) ✅

Smut (WILL HAVE A WARNING) ✅

K!nk (this changes in a case to case bases but chances are I will say yes more than I say no EXCEPT if it is one of the k!nks in the no-no area (WILL HAVE A WARNING) ✅

A character struggling with bullying or ableism✅

•Fluff✅

•Hurt Comfort (PLEASE PLEEK I LOVE HURT COMFORT ITS MY BABA)✅

Light angst✅

Active ED recovery!✅

Headcannons✅

GENERAL RULES AND TIPS FOR ASKS

Please do not interact with my NSFW posts if you are not 18+, it is more comfortable for both of us.

Don’t be afraid to talk to me! Ask me about my day, what I had for lunch, headcannons, whether I think Jasper would still love Alice if she was a worm LITTERALLY WHATEVA🎀 I’m here to talk to y’all and share my silly thoughts!

Please be specific with your requests! I don’t want to get something wrong plus it just makes for a better story!

I will not write your request or answer if you are being rude/ impatient, I have a life outside of Tumblr too<3

Please don’t ask me any personal questions that will risk my safety or security, I will not reply.

Please remember I am not perfect, I might not get to your request right away, I might get something wrong, be forgiving with me.

Please don’t fill my ask box with character hate.

If I refuse an ask just remember it’s not anything personal, I just didn’t feel comfortable writing what you requested.

Have fun! This is a safe space where you will find there is no place for judgement or haters!

RP

WHO I WILL RP FOR⋆.*ೃ✧

DM’s are always open for RP

୭̥°⋰˚ ALICE CULLEN ୭̥°⋰˚

✦°．• JAPSER HALE ✦°．•

•ू♡ HARRY OSBORN •ू♡

ೃ•୭ ೃ•୭ ೃ•୭ ೃ•୭ ೃ•୭ ೃ•୭ ೃ•୭

GENERAL RULES AND TIPS FOR ASKS

Please do not reach out unless you are 18+, I’m sorry I’m just not comfortable doing an RP with a minor.

The rules for RP are the same as my writing rules as it goes for do’s and don’ts so check it out above!

I only RP in advanced literate style. Check out the RP styles here⬇️

Please be understanding, I will probably not reply right any especially not on a week day as I have a job and hobbies🎀

If I refuse an RP please remember it’s not anything personal, I just didn’t feel comfortable doing the RP you purposed.

Please do not vent to me in my DM’s, I will not reply to keep my own peace.

THIS INTRO IS TEMPORARY UNTIL I GET THINGS MORE ORGANIZED ON THIS BLOG WITH MASTERLISTS🩰

Thank you🎀

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hey there dear ♥ I have a problem that I see happen to me often, my main character is usually a regular Joe/Jane, and their gf/bf/best friend is THE MOST AWESOME PERSON IN THE UNIVERSE with the weirdest and most complicated backstory EVER. So, even though the side character is usually the interesting one, my brain still tells me that my MC should be the MC. I write in 3rd person limited, following the MC, always. I still struggle with different POVs, and even though I’m trying to get better at it, I really really enjoy the single POV narrative. I’ve been toning down my SCs and trying to hype my MCs but I still feel like they lack something. I’ve been using a chart you posted somewhere about internal conflict, and I’m doing my best to keep them at least equal. And even though the people that read my stories told me they didn’t feel my MCs are boring, they did prefer the SC. And I still, as the writer, see my MCs as plain and way too simple. Is it normal for writers to feel their characters are boring? Am I thinking too much into this? Is there a secret to make my MCs shine just a little bit more? Thanks! ♥

Main Character Overwhelmed by Secondary Character

Your MC isn't the MC because they're the most interesting person in the story or because you think they should be the MC...

Your MC is the MC because they're the protagonist. They're the character who is primarily responsible for moving the story forward and resolving the story's conflict, whether that's their own internal conflict (in a character-driven story) or an external conflict (in a story that is plot-driven or both plot and character-driven.)

So, to determine which of these characters should be the MC, you have to start by looking at the conflict of your story. What is the major internal or external conflict that must be resolved by the end of the story? Which character's goal is essential to attaining this resolution? That's your MC/protagonist.

As far as making your protagonist more interesting when they're overshadowed by a secondary character, here are some things you can do:

-- Make sure your story has a conflict that the MC/protagonist is trying to resolve by the end of the story. -- Make sure your protagonist has a stake in resolving the conflict. In other words, something important they'll lose if the conflict isn't resolved. -- Make sure your protagonist has either a bigger stake in resolving the conflict than the other characters, or their stake in resolving the conflict is the central focus.

-- Make sure your protagonist has a believable, fleshed out motivation for wanting to resolve the conflict. Their stakes are what they'll lose if they don't, their motivation is why those stakes matter to them. -- Make sure your protagonist has believable flaws that impede their progress in resolving the conflict, but also some positive traits that make the reader want to root for them. -- Give your character traits and a background that readers can identify with. This helps them bond with the character and feel like they have something in common with them. I hope that helps! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

Learn more about WQA

Visit my Master List of Top Posts

Go to ko-fi.com/wqa to buy me coffee or see my commissions

[ae-neon]

Reading Throne of Glass (1-3)

TW: mentions of slavery and suicide

Disclaimer;

I'm gonna be nitpicky but it won't reflect my overall enjoyment. Besides the racist Nehemia plotline (which I don't like at all) I don't mind the general vibe or story of ToG. Also because it's so popular I have been spoiled for the overall big points of the story like endgame ships and character death but I don't know anything about the world, the magic, the character personalities, histories etc

Chapter 1

I instantly prefer the 3rd person POV.

SJM loves using slavery - and like, the worst type of slavery - as trauma porn.

Notorious Assassin - are you not then just bad at your job? Why does everyone know it was you?

SJM knows how to write her protagonists being observant, it's maybe her best trait.

WAIT. WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING??

If they're escorting her and trying to confuse her or even just to treat her like a prisoner - why isn't she blindfolded?? Why not put a bag over her head?? Like SHE CAN SEE WHERE SHE'S GOING?????

Okay I know Chaol is gonna be important and a love interest at some point so he has to have a serious position despite probably being 17/18 - but CAPTAIN of the royal guard?? The whole royal guard?? Be fr. Just have him be the Prince's right hand or personal knight or something.

The Captain of the Royal Guard would be an interesting opponent. Maybe even worthy of some effort on her part.

She was scared of him 5 sentences ago:

...Chaol Westfall, Captain of the Royal Guard, and suddenly, the sky loomed, the mountains pushed from behind, and even the earth swelled toward her knees. She hadn’t tasted fear in a while—hadn’t let herself taste fear.

"How lovely it was to hear a voice like her own—cool and articulate—even if he was a nasty brute!" Sorry the slaves weren't well spoken and there aren't any political prisoners to keep intellectual company with

The only thing all the intended disorientation had accomplished was to familiarize her with the building. Idiots.

Yea, I agree, they are idiots - they should have blindfolded you

Why is this big manor?hall?thing? by the slave mines? Like so close it's literally next door to where they sleep

The world building is pretty good so far

"...the opulence felt like a slap to the face." sjm don't lie

Chapter 2

close-cropped chestnut hair >>>> team Chaol already

I might consider Celaena an icon for not bowing to the Prince, if I didn't know she ends the series as queen. What a waste.

I'll probably like Dorian but his words mean nothing. If he had a problem with people being forced to bow, he would have said something earlier.

Duke Perrington came from Rifthold to see the treasurer?? The treasurer doesn't live at court? Or at least in the capital?

(Gold crown+)...black doublet, an emblazoned gold rendering of the royal wyvern occupied the entirety of the chest. His red cloak fell gracefully around him and his throne.

Dorian's first outfit eating up all of Rhysand's 3 black on black outfits.

Black hair blue eyes, he was definitely the first endgame love interest. A YA classic.

Princes are not supposed to be handsome! They’re sniveling, stupid, repulsive creatures! This one . . . this . . . How unfair of him to be royal and beautiful.

This. And some other sentences (that also end with exclamations) come off as weirdly childish in their tone and don't fit with the rest of the writing. Eg

What a miserable state for a girl of former beauty!

Like stop. The vibe is she thinks she's gonna die and she's being humiliated by her enslavers. This is off

I won't rag on SJM's writing too much because she was young and it's her first novel but this:

At a passing glance, one might think her eyes blue or gray, perhaps even green, depending on the color of her clothing. Up close, though, these warring hues were offset by the brilliant ring of gold around her pupils. But it was her golden hair that caught the attention of most, hair that still maintained a glimmer of its glory. In short, Celaena Sardothien was blessed with a handful of attractive features that compensated for the majority of average ones; and, by early adolescence, she’d discovered that with the help of cosmetics, these average features could easily match the extraordinary assets.

"But now, standing before Dorian Havilliard as little more than a gutter rat!" Girl, stfu

Acotar ellipses >>> ToG exclamations

I like Dorian and I like the story of Celaena's escape attempt. BUT. It would have been better if Dorian and Chaol had heard the story and used it as their reason to recruit her - a hectic story that proved Celaena was not only all that her reputation said but also that the mines hadn't broke her.

Then later, when they have more of a connection, have Celaena reveal it was essentially a suicide attempt.

Secret business? The Crown Prince, the Captain of the Guard, a Duke and like a dozen + royal guards isn't exactly low profile. In fact, it's the highest fucking profile, Sarah

Chapter 3

Dorian 🤝 Cassian; ogling starved women's bodies.

"My father has gotten it into his head that he needs a Champion." Even Celaena knows the Champion is supposed to be a knight or a lord or a holy warrior or something, not an assassin and definitely not an enemy of the crown. If you need an assassin just hire her as one

No one gets hired in an sjm book without being offered a "considerable salary" I think she doesn't understand much about money irl

She barely heard his last few words. A competition! Against some nobody men from the-gods-knew-where! And assassins! “What other assassins?” she demanded.

“None that I’ve heard of. None as famous as you...

The exclamations... Also those assassins are better by simple virtue of not being famous

They're acting like she's weakened but honestly shouldn't she be absolutely shredded? Shouldn't her arm strength be crazy from a year in a mine?

...but could only recall a solitary line from the mournful bellowing of the Eyllwe work songs, deep and slow like honey poured from a jar: “And go home at last . . .”

SJM is actually so vile because I know this isn't gonna really matter in a way that centres these enslaved people.

-

Overall not bad. I like these 3 characters and I much prefer 3rd person POV.

Celaena is a little erratic in her moods and thoughts but whatever.

Some nice hints of worldbuilding but also standard "sjm doesn't really understand the concept she's included"

[mythicamagic]

GUIDELINES

Payment will be through paypal only, via invoice.

ONE-SHOT COMMISSIONS ONLY!!

I can write in 1st, 2nd Person (You) or 3rd Person (He/She/They) POV. I prefer 3rd person.

Canon Universe or AUs are OKAY!!

If you know I’m into a series and you don’t see it on the list – contact me. The series listed below are the ones I’m much more apt to write (preferred, since I feel comfortable writing the characters) but I will consider others.

OKAY with doing NSFW (though this is obviously a broad spectrum so if you want more details of what I won’t write just ask), Canon/OC and Reader Inserts are okay but I specialise in certain fanon or canon couples, which if you’ve followed my blog for a while, you’ll know what they are. (However, you have to give me as many details about your OC as possible. If the info isn’t enough to get an idea of how to write them I may refuse to - I don’t want to mess up a portrayal of them so please be clear.)

NOT OKAY with Incest, Pedophila. I have the right to refuse anything I’m not comfortable with.

When commissioning, please provide any specific details you would like.

SERIES LIST

Genshin Impact

Ikemen Prince, Ikemen Vampire and Ikemen Sengoku (with the exception of Rio, Luke and Charles)

Most Otome games you can find on the Switch and Steam

Inuyasha

Diabolik Lovers (with the exception of Kino and the Tsukinamis)

Fruits Basket

Couples I’ll write for not on the list: Ulquihime, Zutara, Dramione, Kacchako, Tododeku

PRICING

All prices are in Pounds Sterling

The minimum commission price I’ll go to is £5, which = 500 words!

£1 per additional 100 words ie:

£8 = 800 words

£10 = 1,000 words

PROCESS:

-We discuss your idea.

-I’ll write either an outline, a few rough paragraphs, or both, to check and see if it’s what you wanted.

-This is the point where I invoice you!! The price is based upon the word count (If I happen to go over, I will not charge you extra).

-I work on the oneshot! If you want progress updates, ask for them! I’ll happily provide updated text. I’ll do my best to keep you updated, and you may still message me with any concerns, so long as you keep in mind that I work and have other commitments. I’ll aim to have your commission done within a month from when you first asked for it depending on the word count.

Once the fic is completed, I’ll email it to you via google docs. I’ll make any adjustments you want too.

If everything is confirmed, with your approval, I will upload the fic to my AO3, fanfiction account or my tumblr. If you have an AO3 account, please tell me so I can tag you accordingly. If you don’t, I’ll link your preferred media account, or mention you by name or pen name!

If you want to keep it private, that’s perfectly fine too

CONTACT

Please PM me here on tumblr

Find me at these locations: fanfiction.net, Ao3, Dokuga and Deviantart by the same name.

If you want examples of my writing then you can find them at the locations above or here on tumblr on my blog under fanfictions/asks.