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cupidjyu · 1 year

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he's hopeless!

juyeon x reader

genre: nerdy-shy-loser juyeon, coffeeshop!au, attempt at humor (im not funny), fluff, teasing, flirting, hyunric cameos, juyeon is SUCH a loser notes: i absolutely suck at writing kids so im sorry i couldn't implement that in the ending TT, i hope you enjoy this it was very fun to write!!! <333333333 also pls ignore any typos because i make very embarrassing ones word count: 3.1k

having a bad day was the least desired thing on your bucket list, yet it seemed to have happened multiple times this week. at this point, you were losing hope in ever obtaining happiness.

“you’re being dramatic,” hyunjae, your coworker, would say. “you literally just spilled a drop of coffee.”

working at a small coffee shop, you were bound to have bad days. though you enjoyed your job, it could be a bit frustrating. first, you had to deal with an extremely rude customer. she was a middle-aged lady who yelled at you simply for getting her name wrong. you had clenched your jaw dealing with her. then, you spilled a whole cup of mocha and the towels had run out so you had to run across the whole place, just to clean up the mess, leaving you breathless.

“i mean,” you grumbled. “all i do is do my job. i want to have a normal day, is that so much to ask for?” you complained to hyunjae, angrily wiping at the counters as he stared at you with amusement. “this isn’t funny, jae.”

“i never said it wa-”

you were both interrupted by the sound of the bell, signaling a new customer. you didn’t bother to look up, but you felt your coworker nudge you by the shoulder.

“isn’t that your favorite regular?” he jerked his head to where there was a tall man approaching the counter. your eyes brightened and you practically threw the towel at hyunjae, making him scramble to catch it.

“maybe,” you smirked slightly. “my day just got ten times better.”

“good luck with that,” hyunjae jested as he left into the kitchen.

juyeon smiled at the sight of you as he walked over in a sort of awkward manner.

“hi,” he said, his voice deep yet usually quiet and calm. you loved the sound of it.

“hey, my favorite customer,” you smiled, leaning over the counter and tilting your head. “i missed you.”

he immediately blushed, his cheeks flushing red, which you couldn’t help but giggle at. he was wearing his usual sort of attire: a long, dark overcoat to accompany him in the cold weather and your favorite thing, which was the cutest thin-framed silver glasses, perched on his nose.

he was the epitome of your ideal type. the nerdy type, you liked to call it. you loved the awkward type of people who were kind, had glasses, tall, fluffy hair, and a pretty, cat-like face. your ideal type was juyeon.

“why weren't you here yesterday?” you asked, frowning slightly. you thought for a second and let out a dramatic gasp. “don’t tell me… you were sick!” his eyes widened and he immediately shook his head no but, you ignored him. “i would have tooken care of you, you know.”

he choked on air, blinking at you, “what? i’m sick!” he fumbled over his words. “i mean, i- i’m not sick. you don’t have to take care of me…” he mumbled, his ears red now. “i was actually… at a florist shop.”

“you sure?” you scrunched your nose at him, teasingly. but it was then that you noticed one arm which was always behind his back. you looked at him. “so what’re you holding?”

instead of answering, he just stood there frozen. you stared back at him with confusion. and then suddenly, a whole run-on sentence was being forced out of his mouth, his words fast and hard to comprehend.

“i was window shopping and i stopped at this florist shop and i got this rose since it reminded me of you so-” he was blushing even more, if that was possible, as he shoved it in your hands.

“oh-” you stuttered, trying to reply but he was already turning on his heels and hurrying out of the place. “juyeon!” but he was long gone. you peered at the rose in your hand. it was white and beautiful, shining in the afternoon light. you sighed, disappointed that you couldn’t thank him for it.

juyeon leaned against the wall, heart beating fast. he took a deep breath and pulled out his phone to text eric.

juyeon: i did it

eric: did you say anything after?

juyeon: …

eric: u ran away didnt u

juyeon: …….

eric: you’re hopeless

juyeon: i know

he set his head backward, slightly hitting his head against the brick wall, making him flinch. his heart was still thumping and it has been for a while. juyeon is, to put it simply, hopelessly in love with you. he thought that you were an angel when he first walked into that coffee shop and he couldn’t help but fall further when he met your kind, yet teasing personality. oh, juyeon was so in love with you.

he just hoped that anyone else won’t notice how bad he has it for you. he really hoped.

“he definitely likes you,” hyunjae stated, walking out of the kitchen. he must’ve been spying on the conversation this whole time. this was his sort of entertainment.

“i know,” you sighed, smiling as you twisted the rose between your fingers.

hyunjae looked at you, surprised. “wait, what? you know?”

you shrugged, “yeah, it’s kind of obvious, no?” you gently placed the rose down, making a mental note to bring it home and put it in a pretty vase.

“and you don’t do anything about it,” the taller man deadpanned, looking at you with interrogating eyes.

you groaned, peering out the windows in hopes that he would come back, “look, i’m figuring it out okay?”

the next day, for no particular reason, you decided to change up your outfit and hair, since where you worked didn’t require a certain uniform. you didn’t think too much of it. at most, it would be hyunjae’s annoying remark, “are you here to impress anyone?”

when juyeon walked in at the usual time, you noticed how wide his eyes were as he walked over to the counter to order.

“hey juyeon,” you waved, smiling sweetly. “want the usual? iced americano?”

he was frozen, again. his lips were parted but without speaking a single word.

“...juyeon?”

“hm?” he blinked. “yes, yes, sure. whatever you want-”

“this is your order,” you deadpanned, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“ah,” he laughed sheepishly, fumbling with his own fingers nervously. “right, you just… you look nice today.”

you paused, your hand floating in midair over the cash register. you started to feel your face get hot because frankly, he was never usually this bold.

“o-oh,” you smiled, cursing at yourself for stuttering. “thank you.”

“actually!” he blurted out, a bit too loud, making some customers turn their heads. he cringed and quieted down. “are you- are you… um- are you free this weeken-”

you were practically leaning over the counter, so excited to say yes to his offer of a date but then-

your phone rang with a text message. juyeon inhaled a sharp breath as he glanced at your lit-up phone nervously. you chose to ignore it and turned back to him, waiting expectedly for him to ask again.

but instead, he coughed awkwardly.

“you must be busy,” he pursed his lips, adjusting his glasses. “right, see you tomorrow!” and then he was running away again, just like before.

“wait!” you called out to him. people turned their heads again, making you duck your head in embarrassment. you frowned and looked at the text message. it was from hyunjae.

hyunjae: chocolate is on sale at this store. u want?

you slammed your phone down and cursed your beloved friend in your head. there goes your chance of going on a date with him.

you: i hate u

hyunjae: what the hell

eric: did you ask them?

juyeon sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

juyeon: i chickened out

eric: !!! 🤬🤬🤬🤬you really are hopeless

juyeon is hopeless, you concluded.

so, you decided to take matters into your own hands and actually do something about his horrible pining. you knew that if you didn’t, there would be absolutely no progress.

“he’s a loser,” hyunjae would tell you.

“a cute loser,” you would reply back.

the next day, in his coffee cup, you very neatly wrote your number along with a small, short message.

i’m not that oblivious ju, give me a call sometime <3

again, the tall and attractive man strolled in. this time, he wore once again, that same long overcoat that complemented his tall height.

“hey!” you greeted happily. “i got your order ready early.”

he looked at you surprised. you smiled, he really did look like an attentive cat.

“thank you,” he gently spoke. you always loved the way he spoke. it was soft and could make almost anyone relax just at the tone of it.

you were about to hand the cup to him before you quickly snatched it away. he let out a small bewildered noise as he looked at you with slight confusion.

“say juyeon…” you looked at him mischievously.

“hm?” he hummed, his voice wavering a bit at your intense eye contact.

“you like someone, don’t you?”

you could see all the color drain from his face. his face twitched with anxiousness as he struggled to keep eye contact with you. “me?”

“who else?” you giggled.

he was a nervous wreck, as he rapidly wiped his sweaty hands on his clothes. “liking anyone?” he adjusted his glasses again: a nervous quirk of his. “no- i- just… i uh- no i don’t.”

you smiled, “are you one hundred percent certain?” you handed him the cup without letting him answer. he gulped as he was about to turn around.

“juyeon.”

he whipped around.

“i’ll see you later?” you winked, making him flush red.

“tomorrow, right?” he asked. “since i’m a regular here.”

“no, no,” you shook your head. “perhaps… outside of this coffee shop for once?”

he blinked, not processing your words. but then it did after a few moments, his body going rigid.

“wait, what?” he squawked, his voice oddly high-pitched. but you had already left to prepare another order.

as he was walking out of the door, he went to take a sip of his drink. in the corner of his eye, he noticed some handwriting on the side of his cup in thick, black marker.

he read it.

and just like that, he was hopeless again. he dropped his coffee on the ground. but he didn’t care for that, as he fumbled for his phone. his hands were shaking too much, so he chose to call his friend instead of texting.

as soon as he picked up, juyeon rambled.

“eric, eric, eric, eric.”

“what?” eric whined. he must’ve been in the middle of something.

“i won the lottery,” juyeon spoke excitedly.

“wait, actually? how much money?”

juyeon didn’t bother to correct him.

“i got y/n’s number.”

a beep sounded through his phone. eric hung up.

sometime later on in the night, you were relaxing at home, watching some random show on the TV. the drama was just getting good but then, you suddenly got a call from an unknown number.

you didn’t usually pick up calls from unknown numbers but you had an inkling of who it was. so, taking the risk, you picked up the call, bringing the phone to your ear.

you chose not to talk first until you heard something.

“hello?” spoke a deep voice on the other line. you brightened, sitting up in bed. it was definitely a familiar voice.

…

“juyeon?”

immediately, a muffled scream sounded through your phone's speaker. you fell back onto the bed, kicking your legs with laughter. it took a while for juyeon to speak again as you could still hear him freaking out. you even heard a glass object fall to the ground, making you wince.

he took in a deep breath, “so, i saw your number on the ice cream–i mean—the coffee cup! and…”

“mmm?” you waited patiently.

“i thought that i’d give you a call because you’re really nice to me,” he rushed his words once again, his sentence almost incomprehensible.

“oh!” you smiled giddily to yourself. “of course.”

there was another scream.

when you were sure he was finally calm, you decided to rush things forward a bit. or actually, a lot.

“yes, juyeon,” you giggled. “i’d love to go out with you. make sure to text me the place and time.” without letting him give a reply, you hung up and laughed evilly to yourself.

meanwhile, juyeon simply stared at his phone. then, he let out an oddly pitched squeak as he threw his phone on the ground. then, he climbed into the sheets of his bed to kick his legs around, covering his blushing face with his large hands.

after a few more minutes of freaking out like an insane man, he jumped out of the bed, tripping over the blankets. he was almost about to land face-first on the ground if it weren’t for his hands catching them. he scrambled for his phone which he was very glad didn’t break after being thrown.

and no, he didn’t text the place and time just yet. instead, he called eric.

“whaaaat,” eric whined. “i’m in a game with sunwoo. can’t this wait?”

“we’re going on a date,” juyeon exclaimed, his heart thumping faster and faster.

“really?” juyeon could hear eric’s controller fall to the floor. “what? that’s amazing! where do you plan on going?”

“i know exactly,” juyeon replied with pride. “it’s at this beautiful restaurant.”

“that’s great, i wish you luck. just make sure that you dress wel- juyeon?”

juyeon was still rambling on and on, “...and our wedding! our wedding is going to be at-” the man was interrupted by yet another beeping noise.

eric hung up again.

sunwoo: where’d you go

eric let out a disappointed sigh, thumping his head on the keyboard, making it type a bunch of random letters.

eric: WLK@J#J$&%^

sunwoo: what

eric: juyeon’s such an odd guy i cant deal with him

sunwwo: why what happened

eric: love happened . hes already thinking bout marriage

you took a deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of your clothes with sweaty hands. you didn’t know why you felt so nervous all of a sudden. it was just juyeon, the guy who would come into the coffee shop with a bright smile each day. he’s the guy who would quirk his head when he was the slightest bit confused and he’s the guy who would blush adorably when you so much as complimented him. he’s the same guy who-

okay so maybe that’s why you were so nervous.

juyeon showed up right on time with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. he was dressed nicely, his hair actually styled, making him look so charming that you felt your legs go weak. he spotted you and smiled, giving a cute wave.

he handed you the flowers and even mumbled a quiet, “you look beautiful” so that only you could hear it. then, as the gentleman he was, he pulled out the chair for you to sit.

“these flowers also reminded me of you,” he explained with a sheepish smile.

you smiled softly, “thank you.”

the date went well. it went so well that you were sure that you would never have such an amazing one like this. you felt comfortable with juyeon and besides his shy personality, he was a very calming person to be with. though he still fumbled with his words cutely sometimes.

“can i try your glasses?” you leaned over the table with interest.

“oh?” he couldn’t help the smile growing on his lips. “sure.” he took them off, wiped the lens, and handed it to you. but instead of actually putting it on, you were frozen with disbelief as you peered at juyeon with a shocked face.

“y/n?”

“it’s crazy how you look good with or without glasses,” you gazed at him in awe.

he didn’t say anything, just blushed furiously as he shoved them in your hand.

“just… try it on already,” he muttered. and so you did.

“so?” you posed. “what do you think?”

“wow, you look great,” he said with a horribly obvious nonchalant tone of voice. you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. he was squinting, trying to look at you. ah. you mentally slapped yourself. he probably has bad eyesight.

“you can’t even see my face can you?”

“nope.”

after the date, you didn’t want to leave. you wanted to stay with him for the rest of the night, talking about whatever topic. but much to your dismay, the two of you were now stopped in front of your house.

he walked you to your front door as you clutched the flowers in your hand.

“this was so fun, ju,” you said with utter sincerity. you looked at him with a wide smile which he returned, his eyes soft on you.

“it was for me too,” he softly replied.

and then it was silent. with your heart thumping, something came over you as you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

his eyes widened and his mouth clamped shut to conceal the surprised sound escaping him. he gulped as he whipped his head to the side to avoid your teasing eyes.

“you…” he was at a loss for words as his ears turned red, this time not from the cold weather.

“bye, juyeon,” you giggled, pushing him playfully to turn around.

“w-wait,” he stammered. he swiftly turned around and leaned down. he paused just at your cheek before slowly pressing his lips to your skin. you couldn’t help but laugh at the feeling.

“see you tomorrow,” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his waist. his arms came around you, holding you tightly.

as he was walking back, he paused to wave at you with a lovesick smile. you waved back with the exact same grin. and then you witnessed him trip on the sidewalk. you winced.

you: you’re right he is a loser

hyunjae: told you so

you: i love him

“hey,” you plopped next to him on the couch as you immediately went to rest your head against his chest.

“hi my love,” he naturally said.

“oh?” you turned to him with a sly smile. “pet names now?”

he smiled shyly, “what about it?”

“remember when you couldn’t even have a conversation with me back then?” you poked his cheek.

his glared with an adorable pout, “look that was way before…”

“are you saying you’re not shy anymore?” you teased.

“yes,” he confidently said. and without a word, you leaned in and pulled him into a slow, passionate kiss. when you pulled away, you could see his cheeks were tinted pink once again as his breath stuttered against your lips.

“liar.”

#the boyz reactions #the boyz fluff #the boyz imagines #tbz fluff #tbz imagines #juyeon fluff #juyeon x reader #requests 💞#fics 💞

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witchersmistress · 1 year

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Heads You Lose

Hello my darlings!! here is part two to Tails you win. https://www.tumblr.com/witchersmistress/716840196299276288/tails-you-win?source=share

Ive linked part 1 for those who have missed it or havent read it.

Warning: Blood, violence, death and gun shot wounds.

Word count: 9.8k

my usual warning, you do not have my permission to copy or use my work in anyway, if you do ill haunt you for the rest of your days!!

Propbably gramatical errors and typos but i type to fast for my own good lol

Name pronounciatuion for the FMC : her given name is Saorise, Sheer-sha, in Irish-Gaelic means freedom

Her nickname, gifted to her at a young age by Syverson: Louhi, Lo-hee, Finnish origin, she is the goddess of Death and Disease.

“People like you and me don’t get to love…”

Those are the words that play on repeat inside my head as I stagger to my feet, blood seeping from the bullet wound just below my right shoulder and mixing with the drying blood already covering my body. I don’t feel the pain from it. On the contrary, I’m numb to everything bar Saoirse’s words. People like you and me…

Don’t get to love…

Don’t. Get. To. Love…

She’s right in a way, but not entirely. It’s true that the likes of us don’t get to love without fear. When you mix with the people we do, you gain enemies. Even the friends you think you have can turn against you on a penny if the price is right. Look at the King - he was ‘friends’ with Carter, but he took the opportunity to take him out the moment it was offered.

I took out my boss without a second thought.

Granted it was to protect the woman I love from her very own dad, but she doesn’t know that, and I can’t tell her.

Not yet, anyway. But one thing I do know with absolute certainty is that I do get to love. And I never thought that was possible for me. Yeah, it’s dangerous to love when it can be held against you, but it doesn’t make it any less true. If I know anything about myself, it’s this: I won’t give up on our love. I refuse to, because what the fuck kind of man would I be to turn my back on something so fundamental to my very existence? A fucking pussy, that’s what, and if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a pussy.

I won’t give up on our love. Not now, not ever.

Lifting my head, I meet Saoirse’s hard stare with that promise burning in my veins. But right now, no matter what I say, I know it won’t make a difference. Saoirse might love me, but Louhi has to make a stand. We both know that. Shooting me was her only choice given the circumstances. Closing herself off, shutting down, was her only option. I don’t fight it, I can’t fight it, but most importantly, I won’t. “Get. Out!” she snarls, the slightest flicker of regret in her eyes the only sign that beneath the pain, betrayal and disappointment, she still cares for me.

That Saoirse is still there inside of Louhi, who stands before me now. “I said, get the fuck out!” I ignore Rodriguez’s laugh. I ignore the King’s smirk. I ignore Dom asking Saoirse to reconsider. Instead, I lower my head in acquiesce. I raise my hand and place it over my heart, over the tattoo of her handprint embedded in my skin and vow to myself that I will find a way to protect her from afar, no matter what. With one last look at Saoirse that I hope conveys all the love and affection I feel for her, I twist on my feet and stagger towards the exit, my gaze falling to Dom as I reach the door.

“Take care of her,” I bite out through gritted teeth, fighting the darkness that’s threatening to drag me under. He nods. “You can count on me, Sy.”

*Hours later*

“Fuck me sideways!” Connall exclaims as I blink back the heavy fog of sleep and try to get my bearings. “Where am I?” I ask, groaning as I try to sit up. Bright white light pricks my eyes like a bullet straight to my brain, and I lift my hand to my head, feeling my scalp where Derby whacked me, hissing when I feel the tender skin and the stitches there.

“Joey’s place. He’s fixed you up. Got you on a drip as soon as we arrived and gave you a couple pints of blood. There was a moment I thought we’d lose you.” “I’m hard to lose,” I reply, giving him a weak smile. “But man, do I feel like shit.” “You look like shit too,” Joey says, stepping into his makeshift operating theater and giving me a toothy grin, antiseptic and the scent of car oil following him into the room. The amount of times I’ve been in the back of his garage getting fixed up is crazy, though to be fair, he keeps this room spotless. I mean, I haven’t died of my injuries or a nasty infection yet. That’s got to count for something, right? Thank god for old ranger buddies. “Thanks, old man,” I reply, easing myself upright on the gurney. It creaks under my weight, and I feel every single bit of pain now that the adrenaline has worn off.

Damn, I could up chuck. Swallowing back the queasiness, I wait for the room to stop spinning. “What’s the damage?” Connall asks, frowning as he stares at me. I have a vague recollection of calling him for help, but other than that I remember nothing after stepping outside of the club. He’s a good man, one I can count on.

The fucking best. “Couple broken ribs, lots of bruising,” Joey says, drawing some clear liquid from a vial into a needle. He pulls it free, presses the plunger to get rid of any air bubbles, then stabs me in the bicep with it, dispensing the liquid. “I fucking hope that’s painkillers,” I say, trying to laugh but failing. He nods, pulling the needle free before throwing it in the medical waste bin. “I got you, pal.” “What else?” Connall urges impatiently.

“The gash to his head was pretty fucking deep. I’ve sewn it up but you’ll need to keep an eye on him over the next few days. He was concussed pretty badly, and there’s always a danger of bleeding into the skull or swelling on the brain, but I think we’re good where that’s concerned.”

Connall swipes a hand through his hair. “You think?” “Well, short of getting Sy into the hospital for a CT scan, I can’t say any better than that.”

“No hospitals,” I say firmly. “Don’t need the law on my ass for offing Carter-fucking-Davidson.”

“You what?!” Connall exclaims, looking from me to Joey. “Did you know about this?” “First I’ve heard,” Joey says, casting a look my way. He knows I had my suspicions about Carter and his relationship with the King, so I imagine he’s putting two and two together and coming up with a pretty good assumption about what went down. “Jesus fuck, Syverson! What the hell happened last night?” “Last night?” I have a question. “How long have I been out?” “Ten hours, but stop avoiding the fucking question. Spill. I need to know so that I can give the family a head’s up. If a war is coming, they’ll want to back you.” “There’ll be no war. We’re leaving.”

“You and Louhi?” Joey asks, even though I’m pretty fucking sure it’s a trick question given she ain’t here and he’s not fucking stupid. “No.” I shake my head, ignoring the pain in my chest that isn’t coming from my bullet wound, but is most definitely coming from my heart. I look at Connall. “When I said we, I was kind of hoping you’d come with me.” “Me? Go where, exactly? And what about Louhi?” “Saoirse was the one who shot me,” I explained, leaning my head back against the gurney. Joey whistles and Connall’s mouth drops open in shock. “Wait, back the fuck up a minute,” he says scraping a hand over his face. “You killed Carter Davidson and Louhi shot you for it?”

“Pretty much,” I replied.

“But she’s in love with you,” he counters.

“He’s her dad, Connall.”

“And clearly a prick given you killed him. You don’t need to tell me what he’s done for me to know you’d only ever off your boss because he’s done something unforgivable. So, I’ll ask again. Why would Louhi shoot you when we all know that girl is head over heels in love with you?”

I heave out a sigh. “I wish I could say that was still true.” “Are you still in love with her?” Joey asks me pointedly.

“Yes.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph! She shot you, Logan. Are you gone in the head?” Connall yells, shaking his head in frustration. “You know what, don’t fucking answer that.” “So you’re running?” Joey asks, moving the conversation along. “It’s complicated.” “So UN-complicate it for us because as much as I like Louhi, I don’t like the fact she nearly killed you and you’re leaving like a beat-down dog.” “Number fucking one, I’m not a beat-down dog!

Number fucking two, if she wanted me dead, I’d be dead. We were five feet apart, there is no way she would’ve missed from that distance. No fucking way,” I say, pointing to my bandaged shoulder. “He’s right. Even if she wasn’t a trained markswoman, which I understand that she is, there’d be no missing. So do you want to tell us why you killed Carter?” Joey asks. “Because the cunt was going to use her to pay off his debts to the King.” “The fuck you say?!” Connall yells. “You heard me. Carter got into a lot of trouble fucking his way around the escorts at The Crib Club, not to mention racking up a substantial gambling debt. I found out about his plans and made the King a better offer.”

Drawing in a deep breath to fend off the queasiness, I continue, “I would kill Carter if he backed the fuck off from Saoirse. He agreed, providing I stay quiet about his involvement, and he could remain a silent partner in the club.”

“The conniving bastard. Why didn’t you just kill the cunt as well?” Connall asks. “Because, as you well know, he’s powerful. Much more powerful than me on my jack jones and far more powerful than one woman with a dead dad. She needs him… For now.” “And you’re okay with that?” Joey asks this time. “Of course I’m not, but equally she’s backed into a corner. The King has a forty-eight percent share in the club, he has a big army behind him and lots of fucking connections.

She can’t go up against him. This way she keeps his protection and a share in the club whilst she establishes herself, and we find a way out of this mess.” “And you believe he won’t go back on his word the minute you're gone, and take her for himself?” “I know he won’t. Saoirse shooting me proved she’s tough enough to run the club. Besides, the King doesn’t want a woman who’ll fucking shoot him when he tries to raise a hand to her. Saoirse is too much of a handful, and one he ain’t willing to mess with, thank fuck.”

“So let me get this straight,” Connall tries to rationalize, pacing up and down as he gets all the information straight in his head. “Carter was in debt so he goes to the King for a loan, the payment of which is his own fucking daughter and a share in the club.” “Yes,” I say, the pain in my head, shoulder and ribs easing a little now the medication is doing its job. Doesn’t stop the ache in my heart though, or the constant feeling of nausea when I’m reminded of how Saoirse had looked at me as though I’d broken her heart as surely as her banishing me had broken mine. She had to do it, I don’t fucking blame her for it, but it still fucking hurts.

“You find out and cut another deal with the King,” Connall continues, “You kill Carter and the King backs off from Louhi, acting as what, a silent partner in the club?” “Precisely, he’s also got connections with some of the best clubs in the world. He can bring in the fighters. She’s smart, she’ll grow the business, and won’t throw it down the drain alongside whisky and stripper cum like her dad did.” Connall raises his brow at that. We both know Carter wasn’t the type of man who cared about a woman’s pleasure over his own. “Turn of phrase,” I mumble.

“So the King gets to sit back and reap the benefits whilst you take the blame for killing Carter, am I close?” “I don’t know about that part. That all depends on what happens now, but I’m not sticking around to find out whether Saoirse grasses on me. Though I wouldn’t fucking blame her if she did.” “She won’t,” Joey says, sounding far more certain than I feel. “And you know how?” Connall asks. “As you well know, there are rules we all live by, unspoken ones, but ones we all obey. No fucking police. However Louhi chooses to deal with this is up to her, but that girl has grown up in this life and she won’t be pulling the police in unless they’re bent and she’s using them to cover her back.”

“Fair point,” Connall concedes, leaning back against the counter as he regards me. “And your big plan is to slope off with your tail between your legs, heart fucking broken, whilst there are a fuck load of snakes and sharks out there who are more than willing to take a bite out of your woman?”

“I’m not sloping off,” I growl, “And I’m not willing to let anyone do any such thing. I trust Dom to keep an eye on her, and I believe the King will have her back whilst it suits him. Right now keeping her safe, and more importantly the business safe, is in his best interests.”

“So what’s the plan, and why do you want me tagging along for the ride?” Connall asks. “For your charm and wit, of course,” I reply, deadly fucking serious. He laughs. I don’t. “Okay spill.” “I’m gonna find her an army of the best men and women money, charm and connections can buy, and you’re going to help me.” “Well, when you put it like that, how can a man say no?” Connalls replies, grinning. “And what do you need me to do?” Joey asks. “Keep your ear to the ground and let me know the second you hear anything about the King that should concern me. Better still, ingratiate yourself with Louhi. Get in on the business. She’ll need someone to fix up her men after they’ve been in the cage. Make sure that man is you.” Joey nods.

“You got it.” “So where to go first?” Connall asks me as my eyes begin to drift shut. “Italy. Romeo Ricci, remember that crazy bastard, he has some contacts out there I’d like to explore…” “Italy it is,” Connall replies, with a shake of his head as exhaustion and a heavy dose of painkiller pull me under.

*2 years later*

Sy’s POV

It’s been almost two years since I left. Two long motherfucking years where I’ve watched over Saoirse from afar. My Princess. My woman. My heart. She turns twenty in a week. And I’m back to tell her the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me fucking God.

I owe her an explanation, my apologies and my love. But more than that, I owe her my life. Saoirse isn’t a crap shot, and no one misses major organs when they’re firing a bullet from a few feet away without purposefully intending to miss. She shot me that night in the cage, banishing me from her life and sending out a message to the criminal underworld. No one fucks with Louhi. Not even the ones she loves. It was her saving grace, because when she pulled the trigger she proved herself a Davidson more than worthy of standing in Carter’s shoes, and she’s been proving herself ever since, building a business and an army that she can be proud of. Unofficially she’s been running the club from the moment Carter was murdered by yours truly, officially just a few short weeks since his will was read and her name replaced his as the owner of the club. Either way, she’s gained respect and a reputation.

According to Dom, who’s been my inside man this whole time, despite the King still having involvement in the club, he’s backed off and allowed her to make a name for herself whilst he reaped the benefits. It won’t be long before she buys him out, or better yet kills the cunt, but all in good time. For now, she’s running the most lucrative fight club in all of Europe. Two months after the refurbishment, the old club mysteriously burnt to the ground and she moved premises to a larger, more discrete site where the club has also become more commonly known as Louhi’s Fight Club. As it should be. She’s a badass, and I’m so fucking proud of her. Two weeks ago, Dom called me to let me know that Carter’s will had finally been read, after his funeral took place a couple weeks before that.

A funeral that, by all accounts, was attended by every fucking lowlife criminal you could think of. None of them were there for Carter, and even less to pay their respects to Saoirse. Like vultures around a rotting carcass, they wanted to see what they could get out of the situation because up until three months ago, Carter was deemed a missing person. And a missing person is still a threat, but a dead man? Not so much. What they hadn’t counted on was the woman they met at the funeral. A woman who, according to Dom, single-handedly laid out three men and shot a fourth in the kneecap for even trying to disrespect her. They also hadn’t counted on the soldiers she’s acquired or the loyalty of mercenaries with a big enough reputation to scare even the most hardened criminal off. Like I said, she’s been building an army. It’s also common knowledge that the remains of Carter’s skull was found in a shallow grave in Hampstead Heath, and that he was identified by his teeth.

It’s not common knowledge that the police were tipped-off with where to find Carter’s remains, or the fact that the rest of his body was fed to pigs who have long since been butchered too. Both calculated decisions that were made by Saoirse herself. Of course, speculation had been rife in the criminal underworld, and according to Dom, Saoirse endured weeks of police interrogations, interviews and accusations. But she never wavered from her story, and she never once ratted me out. Carter’s cause of death was deemed suspicious, but given there was very little left of Carter’s body and no other evidence to be found given the old club is now nothing but a pile of ash, the case ran cold.

Though I’m more than fucking positive that there was a handout to the police chief and a few people higher up the chain of command to nip any further investigations in the bud. Like I said, Saoirse has come into her own. Or should I say Louhi has come into her own, because there isn’t one person now who’ll call her Saoirse. She won’t allow it. The last person who tried was beaten by her men so badly that he can’t even remember his own name, let alone hers, or so I’m told. Saoirse has well and truly shredded her skin and stepped into the role of Louhi completely. It’s a heavy burden to know that I’m part of the reason for that.

That my actions, my half-truths and my lies to keep her safe, forced her into a persona she couldn’t escape from. Honestly, I’m not certain she would even want to now. But I’m not back to change her in any way, I’m back because I can’t stay away a moment longer. There’s so much I need to fix and I’m not self-centred enough to believe I’ll be successful, but I’ve got to fucking try. I blow out a steady breath, swiping at the mist covering the mirror from the shower I’ve just taken, and stare at my reflection. I look much the same as I did when I left.

I’m still a bulky fucker, probably bigger than I was given I’ve spent a lot of my time training in gyms around the world, but it didn’t matter where I was, there was no sunshine without her. My happiness wasn’t a focus, her safety was, still is. I haven’t been complacent in my time away. I’ve made alliances, acquaintances and friends with powerful men and women. And I’ve done it all for Saoirse, for Louhi. I’ve been standing by her side this whole fucking time we’ve been apart. I never stopped working to build her army. Never stopped loving her. Never stopped dreaming about her every fucking night, and thinking about her every minute of every day. I’m surprised my dick hasn’t dropped off from the amount of times I’ve abused it whilst thinking of her.

That night in her bedroom where she’d spread herself for me and finger-fucked herself so perfectly has been on repeat in my head for the last two years. Even now, after all this time, thoughts of her make me hard. That won’t ever change. Scraping a hand over my face, I mentally psych myself up, because if I was nervous about telling Saoirse about my feelings back in my tattoo shop two years ago, that’s nothing to how I’m feeling now. I ain’t shitting a brick. I’m shitting a goddamn mountain. Dom has made it perfectly clear that she’s not the same person I left behind, but then again neither am I. Truth be known, being away has changed me. I was never a spiritual man, and I won’t pretend that I am now, but a few months back I accompanied Connall on a trip to Ireland to visit his family and met a lad who has this uncanny ability to uncover a man’s secrets and capitalize on them. The little fucker got me talking about personal shit that I would never share with anyone. I can’t even blame my loose mouth on the pints of Guinness I knocked back, given I only had two. Pretty sure he pulled some voodoo shit on me. All I know is if anyone has the heart of a criminal, the soul of a thief and the mind of a genius, it’s Arden Dálaigh, and I have no doubts we’ll meet again when he’s grown a few more chest hairs. But that’s a concern for another day.

With a shake of my head, my gaze falls to Saoirse’s handprint tattooed on my chest, the outline of which is now completely filled with black ink. From there my eyes track across to the puckered scar that sits just beneath my right collar bone where Saoirse shot me. Both are a prominent reminder of the woman I love, and I will wear them with pride until the day I fucking die. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Connall asks, the second I slide into the passenger seat beside him. I gave him a look. “Not in the fucking slightest, but it’s time.” “She might actually kill you this time.” “She might, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I reply, drumming my fingers against my knee in agitation.

The fucker of course notices. He’s been a good friend to me and I owe him so much more than I could ever repay. Connall has been my right-hand man through all of my travels around the world. “Listen, mate, I love you, you know that right?” I laugh. “If you’re about to tell me to run away with you—”

“We’ve been there, done that already,” he cuts in with a smirk, breaking sharply and swearing at a kid that suddenly dashes out into the road in front of us. She slams her fist against the bonnet, before giving us the middle finger. Beneath her hood I can see bright blue hair and a scowl that would rival the many Saoirse has given me in the past. “Watch where you’re going, asswipe!” she yells, then pelts it across the street chucking a spray can at the car for good measure.

“The little fucker!” Connall exclaims as we both watch her leg it down the street and disappear down an alleyway a little further up. “That one’s gonna cause someone a heap of shit in a few years.” “Looks like she’s already causing a heap of shit,” I remark, as Connall puts the car in drive and moves on. We both laugh, the tension easing a little. Ten minutes later Connall pulls up outside a gated industrial estate, manned by a security guard who looks very familiar.

Mark.

The last time I saw him, he was in the crowd at the club whilst I was getting the shit kicked out of me by Derby. Connall gives me a look. “Is he gonna give us trouble?” “I guess you’d better roll your window down so we can find out.”

Mark steps out of the little hut he’s sitting in and strolls over to the car, ducking down to look through the now open window. It takes him less than a second to lock eyes with me. “Well, fuck! Dom said you were back, but I didn’t believe it. Syverson, as I live and breathe. How are you, mate?” Not quite the reception I was expecting, but okay. I grin. “I’m good, you?” “Head of security here these days,” he says with a wink, tapping on the walkie-talkie attached to his chest. “That uniform looks good on you,” Connall says, jerking his chin towards Mark’s outfit. He looks like a cross between a copper and a bouncer in his deep blue shirt and trousers.

The fact he’s got a handgun strapped to his hip and a knife slotted next to it just adds to the whole don’t fuck with me vibe he’s got going on. “Louhi likes her soldiers dressing smart. Things have changed around here since…” His voice trails off and neither of us fill in the silence. Mark was at the club the night I fought Derby, but he wasn’t there when I killed Carter. I found out later he was dragging a fuming Hudson Freed home.

Though he couldn’t keep him away according to Dom, who’s been my inside man this whole time. Hudson came back an hour after I left and is as deep in this pile of shit as the rest of us in attendance that night. Honestly, I expected to hear that Saoirse and him had got together after I’d gone, but to my surprise they’re still just friends and have remained close. I guess I owe him a thank you for looking out for my girl too, even if it pisses me off that he got to spend time with her and I didn’t. I should be grateful, I am grateful, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to beat the shit out of him for having her time and attention though.

Never thought I’d be a jealous man, but here we are. “Sy is here to see Louhi. Is that gonna be a problem?” Connall asks, before I’m able to even clear my head enough to do the same. For a beat Mark looks between us, his expression serious. We were friends once, and the thought of having to knock the fucker out so I can get inside the gates doesn’t sit well with me, but I’ll do it if I have to. “A few weeks back I would’ve seen you on your way,” he admits with a wry grin. “And today?” I ask, my stomach churning at the thought that just on the other side of this gate is the woman I love. “Today you’re allowed in.” Connall grins. “Excellent, want to get the gate open then?”

Mark’s smile drops. “Sorry, Connall. Sy goes in alone. Orders of the Boss.” Connall looks affronted, glancing at me. “Why is she pissed at me? I ain’t done nothing wrong. Surely, she has missed my Irish charm?” I laugh, and Mark grins. “Couldn’t tell you. All I’ve been told is if Logan turns up he comes in alone.” “Not a problem,” I say, unclipping my seat belt. “Follow me then,” Mark replies, bumping fists with a put-out Connall, before striding back to the gate. “Seriously, Sy, are you sure you wanna do this? We both know that Louhi has quite the reputation these days.” “I’m sure. Go home. I’ll call you later.” Connall nods, blowing out a breath.

“Well, don’t let me tell you I told you so when you end up in the coroner's office with a bullet in your brain.” “Pretty sure I’ll be incapable of listening or responding at that point,” I say with a laugh, before jumping out of the car and striding through the open gate.

Two minutes later I’m pushing open the door into the warehouse Mark pointed me towards, and stepping into a cornered off wire cage with wrap around curtains and a locked door opposite. In the corner of the space is a table and a sign that says:

Remove all weapons or entry will be denied.

I grin. Saoirse is way smarter than her father. Security is clearly a priority, as it should be. Glancing around the space, my attention is caught by a tiny red light flashing in the top right hand corner of the cage. I stare up at the camera and wait, a smile pulling up my lips. “Weapons on the table,” a familiar female voice barks through the intercom. It’s been a long time since I heard her voice and for a moment I’m taken aback. Struck fucking dumb, actually, though my dick doesn’t seem to have the same problem. It jerks at her voice, standing to fucking attention. “Jesus fuck,” I mutter. “Weapons on the table, Syverson. You’ll get them back when you leave.”

Syverson. Call me a fool, call me whatever the fuck you like, but the sheer fact she’s addressing me by my real name is a good fucking sign. I hear the sass buried deep beneath the coolness, and it fires my fucking blood like nothing else. Maybe there’s hope. “I have no weapons. I come in peace,” I reply, grinning, unable to help myself.

For long moments there’s just silence, then the intercom makes a clicking noise and her voice follows shortly after. “Prove it. Strip.” “Sure thing, Princess,” I reply without hesitation, more than happy to oblige. I hear the sound of the intercom clicking once more and wait, but there’s nothing but static. Maybe it’s too early to be calling her Princess again so I follow my reply up with a statement that I hope she takes as truthfully as it’s meant. “Ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” Her scoff comes through the intercom clear as fuck then. “Just get on with it.” I stare up at the camera and nod. If she wants me naked, then I’ll get naked.

She can see how my cock is growing for her too. I don’t fucking care. She can take her fill. Removing my jacket and boots first, I throw the former onto the table and kick the latter across the concrete floor. There isn’t one moment when my gaze isn’t focussed on the camera, and I’m hoping she can feel the intensity of my stare, because I sure as fuck can feel hers. Next, my t-shirt, jeans and socks come off and I stand in my boxers with a raging hard on that would rival any of those other fuckers that she might’ve invited into her bed. I sure hope I get the chance to erase any bastard cock that has had the pleasure of her attention these past couple years. It fucking kills

I know that someone else has taken what was always supposed to be mine, but I can’t blame her for it. I won’t do that. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking gut me though, or that I won’t off the fucker who took it from me. Just saying. “Do you need me to remove my boxers too, because you know I will, Princess,” I say unabashedly. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured our reunion, but I get the psychology behind it. She wants to show me who’s boss, what she doesn’t realize is that I never wanted to be hers.

Every action I took came from a place of love, and the need to protect her. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just glad to see me?” a familiar male voice says, followed by a burst of laughter that has my cock deflating quicker than you can say gonorrhea. Across the other side of the space the curtain surrounding the cage is pulled back and Dom is smiling at me. “Fucking hell, Syverson, I can see that cock of yours is still a lethal weapon.” I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “You prick!”

“Nope, you’re definitely the prick.”

“Good to see you, Dom,” I reply, my smile fading as I give him a look that I hope he interprets as gratefulness. Without him keeping an eye on Saoirse, and letting me know how she’s been doing, I would’ve been even more of a fucking mess. “Get dressed. Louie's waiting for you in her office,” he gives me a knowing look, then punches a number into a keypad on his side of the cage and pulls the door open. He waits for me to put my clothes back on, and with one last glance at the camera, I follow Dom into the lioness’s den.

Saoirse’s POV

I stare at the screen, at the man who stole my heart and made me an orphan. He looks the same as I remember and different in a way that’s difficult to pinpoint. There are lines around his eyes, and a tightness around his mouth that I have the sudden urge to soothe. He’s more muscular, if that’s even possible. His hair is a little longer on top and he’s clean shaven. If I weren’t already sitting down, I’d need to.

There’s no doubt that he’s grown even more handsome, and despite my head telling me not to get drawn in, my foolish heart is beating wildly. Don’t even ask me about my pussy because she’s already forgiven him and is about ready to throw herself at his cock and beg for oblivion. “Fuck!” I swear, my gaze roving over every inch of his face as he stares up at the camera.

This was a bad fucking idea. I can’t be weak for this man, I can’t. Flicking my gaze to my phone, I consider calling Mark to come get his arse and chuck him out, but I hesitate. My stomach churns with anxiety, and I grab my packet of cigarettes from the table, lighting one and dragging in a deep lungful. The tip sizzles, and when I blow out a stream of blue-grey smoke, some of the anxiety lifts. Narrowing my eyes at him I make a decision, then lean back in my chair and press the intercom button. “Weapons on the table,” I say, keeping my voice steady, cold. He stiffens, his muscles locking tight as he blinks back up at the camera. He wasn’t expecting to hear my voice. Good, let him feel as fucked in the head as I do. I take another drag of my cigarette, enjoying the power shift as he chews on his lip. There’s no doubt that he’s nervous. Well that makes two of us.

“Weapons on the table, Syverson. You’ll get them back when you leave.” I can’t help but grin at the surprise in his eyes when I call him by his real name. Before, when I used to call him Syverson, it was to wind him up, to get a rise out of him. Now, I just want to remind him that I can call him whatever the fuck I want and he can’t do a damn thing about it. It takes him a beat to reply, but when he does he gives me a grin that almost makes me forget what he did. Almost. “I have no weapons. I come in peace,” he says. I take another pull of my cigarette.

There’s nothing about his body language that tells me he’s being anything other than truthful, and despite everything, I believe he isn’t carrying. Not that it would matter if he was, because my soldiers would have him disarmed and on his knees with a gun cocked at his head before he could even blink. Syverson might be the best fighter in the cage, but he’s no match for the combined force of the mercenaries I’ve gathered over the two years since he’s been gone. Every single one of them walked into the club as a fighter and stayed as my soldier, and I took full advantage of the universe bringing them to me.

We eyeball each other through the screen, and deciding that he needs to be knocked down a peg, or five thousand, I test his willingness to follow my orders because there is no way I’ll even entertain talking to him if he thinks he can just waltz back in here and pick up where we left off. I don’t care how fucking sexy he is, or how much he still makes my legs go weak and my pussy wet. “Prove it. Strip,” I demand, smirking as I lean back in my chair and wait. I don’t have to wait for long. “Sure thing, Princess,” he replies then begins to remove his clothes. I press down on the intercom about ready to tell him to fuck off for calling me Princess, but then he says something else that stills my heart and immediately puts me back in the headspace of the girl who was utterly in love with him. “Ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” I blink at the screen, at his sincerity. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Swallowing hard and pushing those feelings deep down, I scoff, then say; “Just get on with it.”

Then I click off the intercom so that I don’t do something fucking stupid like ask him to do everything I’ve dreamed of in the privacy of my bedroom these past couple years since he’s been gone. Dragging in another hit of my cigarette, I watch him undress, my mouth dropping open as I stare at the screen, transfixed. He strips right down to his boxers and there’s no denying that his almost naked form is as stunningly attractive as it ever was, but it isn’t his defined muscles or his broad shoulders

and strong thighs that leave me breathless. It isn’t even the intimidating size of his erection. It’s my handprint that’s completely filled in and resting over his heart in a permanent tattoo that sucks all the oxygen from the room and has my own heart pounding so loud that I barely hear my phone ringing. “Shit! Fuck!” I exclaim, picking it up. “What?” I snap into the mouthpiece. “He’s about to take his fucking pants off. Are you still convinced he’s packing?” Dom asks me, undeniable laughter in his voice. He’s certainly packing, I think, my gaze trailing to his boxers and the bulge there.

“Bring him to me,” I ordered. “Sure thing… And boss?” “Yes?” “He’s a good guy.” I snort. “Tell that to Carter.” By the time Dom knocks on my door five minutes later, I’ve shrugged off the girl who was in love with Syverson and firmly stepped into the role of Louhi. I promised myself I would listen to him, and I will, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to take him back no matter what he has to say. “Come in,” I called out, arms folded across my chest in defense mode that I quickly uncrossed because letting him know I’m feeling out of sorts by his sudden appearance today isn’t what Louhi would do. She is strong, unfazed by anyone, and it’s her grit I funnel as Dom opens the door and Syverson steps past him into my office.

I glance at Syverson quickly, willing my heart to stop racing and ignoring the very real need to just go to him, then give a tight smile to Dom. “Need me to stay?” he asks. “No. Get home to Nancy. I’ll see you back here tomorrow night for Ziggy’s fight.” “Sure thing.” He nods once, flicks his gaze to the back of Syverson’s head and smirks, shutting the door behind him. “I should shoot you dead now,” I state, my fingers running over the Glock resting on my desk, internally wincing at the opposing emotions fucking with my head. I just want to go to him, wrap my arms around him, but I can’t. I fucking can’t. “I wouldn’t stop you,” he replies evenly. “Do you have a death wish?” I ask, genuinely interested, and trying hard to focus on being Louhi and not the girl who’s still in love with him. He holds his hands out, palms up. “The only wish I have is for the chance to talk. That’s it. That’s all.” We stare at each other for long moments, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t want to throw caution to the wind and forgive him instantly for everything. But I can’t do that.

I won’t do that. “Drink?” I ask instead, if only because I need something to do with my hands. Without waiting for him to reply, I push back from the table and stride over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room, pouring us both a three-fingered shot of bourbon. I take my time, letting him get his fill of my fitted shirt, tight leather skirt, bare legs, and stiletto ankle boots. I know for a fact my knee-length skirt hugs my arse, and the slit at the back gives glimpses of my thighs. He’s not the only one who’s kept themselves fit these past couple years. I spar three times a week with Dom and Mark and train with Cleveland, one of the mercenaries, twice a week too. I keep up with pole dancing as much as I can with Nancy and Matty as well. Exercise has helped to keep my mind focused, sharp. What no one knows is that on my nights off I indulge in copious amounts of junk food to ease the pain in my chest whilst sitting in my threadbare pyjamas, feeling lonely as fuck. There has to be balance, right? With his eyes on me, I grab the drinks and return to my seat, sliding one across the table to him. “Sit.” Syverson nods, watching me carefully as he pulls out the chair and takes a seat opposite me. I will my cheeks not to flush at the intense way he stares at me,but rather than looking away I stare right back, not willing to let him see how affected I am by him. Taking a sip of the bourbon, I wait.

“Saoirse…” Syverson begins, his Texan accent causing a sharp pang in my chest, “Louhi,” I retort firmly. “Louhi,” he corrects, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on the table, completely ignoring the glass of bourbon. My gaze trails over his thick fingers and the veins protruding on the back of his hands before I slowly lift my eyes to meet his. I’m pretty sure he was just checking out my tits too. Can’t say I blame him, they’ve filled out some since he left. I guess I’m what you call a late bloomer. “You’ve got five minutes. Speak,” I demand, so fucking grateful my voice remains steady. “You look good,” he remarks, the sound of lust in his voice like a wet dream come true. There’s no denying the need in his eyes and for a second I allow myself to bask in it. To let his words wash over me like a sweet caress. Then I pull my shit together.

“If you’re just here to compliment me on my looks then you can get your arse up out of that chair and fuck right off. I don’t need your compliments, Syverson. I get enough of them as it is.” His eyes flash with possession, and a whole dose of jealousy, but he shuts both down and nods, clearing his throat. “I’m sure you do.” We fall silent again, and I pick up another cigarette, lighting it. He looks surprised but instead of questioning why I’ve taken up smoking, he nods towards the cigarette packet. “May I?” “You may,” I say, inwardly smiling at the way he seems to shift uncomfortably in his seat. I wonder if he still has a boner. The sheer fact he got hard because he knew I was watching him strip makes me feel all kinds of ways.

Mostly horny, but also wanted, desired. Yeah, I’ve had plenty men want to fuck me, but the way Syverson is looking at me now, it’s different. It’s more. As he leans forward and reaches across the table, his loose fitting, v-neck shirt gapes a little, revealing the top of the handprint tattoo. Now it’s me who’s staring as I remember the day he took me to his tattoo shop and stole my breath with his actions and his promises.

“I like what you’ve done with the club,” he interrupts my reminiscing. I rip my gaze upwards and watch him place a cigarette between his lips before lighting it.

“You’ve been busy building quite an empire since I’ve been gone.”

“You sound surprised.”

“No. I never doubted you.”

Blue-grey smoke curls up out of his mouth as he speaks and I can’t help but notice the note of pride in his voice. I don’t need a man’s validation, but surprisingly getting this recognition from Syverson means more to me than it probably should. “Yeah, you’re right. I have been building an empire since I banished you,” I reply, forcing all those warm feelings I have no business entertaining deep into the pit of my stomach. Anger is by far a safer emotion right now, and I’m clinging onto it with everything I have. “I’ll rephrase that. You’ve been building quite an empire since you banished me.” There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes that warms a part of me that turned cold a long time ago, and it’s that feeling and not his flirty smile that has me reacting the way I do.

I. Can’t. Let. Him. In.

I Can’t.

“Get out!” I snap. Stubbing out my cigarette, I push up from my desk and stride towards the door. “Now!” He twists in his seat, frowning as he watches me yank open the door . “What?” “I said, get the fuck out!” My voice is low, dripping with fury. “Woah, Louhi,” he retorts, stubbing his own cigarette into the ashtray before getting to his feet.

“Calm down darlin.”

“Calm down? Calm-fucking-down! No. You don’t get to patronize me.”

“I wasn’t! Shit! Fuck, that’s not what I was doing!”

I bark out a laugh, feeling a lot less Louhi and way more Saoirse than I have in a very long time. Saoirse is the one who flies off the handle at the drop of a hat, who’s emotional. Louhi is nothing like that and a large part of me resents that he still has the ability to pull her out of me.

“Did you honestly think you could waltz in here, flash me a smile, give me flirty fuck-me eyes and think I would fall at your feet like some lovesick teenager?”

“Well, I—” he smiles again in that infuriating way that makes my heart squeeze. “Don’t you dare!”

I hiss, slamming the door shut in anger instead of slamming my fist into his cocky face. “Don’t make this into a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, let me start again,” he begins, scraping a hand over his face.

“Fuck, I knew I’d balls this up.”

“I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not someone you can flirt with and charm, who begs for your attention. I won’t just roll over and forgive you for everything just because you’re back.”

“I don’t expect you to do any of that,” he replies earnestly as he steps towards me. “I misjudged the situation. I guess I thought—I hoped—that because you hadn’t already shot me dead that we were on better terms than we actually are. I was wrong. I apologize.”

“The only terms we’re on is me giving you a chance to shoot your shot before I decide whether to shoot you dead for good this time!” I bite back.

“That’s fair,” he replies, holding his hands aloft as he approaches me guardedly. “I’m just asking you to listen to what I have to say. Will you?”

“So now you want my obedience?” I shake my head. “Nothing’s changed there then.”

“You were never obedient,” he retorts, moving closer still. “As I recall, you did nothing but cause me shit. I’ve missed that.”

This time his smile isn’t flirty, it’s pitted with regret and the barely stitched together wounds in my chest rip open at that. He missed me. God, I missed him too. So fucking much. But I don’t admit it.

“And you were nothing but a tease and a heartbreaker!” I retort, hating the fact that I’m losing my cool so spectacularly, that somehow I’ve moved towards him instead of putting more space between us. “I’m sorry it felt that way.”

“Are you?”

“Saoirse,” he says, then slams his mouth shut when I give him a glare that ordinarily would end in someone getting kneecapped.

“Louhi,” he repeats, still stepping towards me.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did. And that girl you made an orphan? She’s gone now.”

“I understand,” he acknowledges, stopping a few inches from me.

“You don’t understand though,” I reply. “You don’t understand anything.”

“Then explain it to me. What’s going on in your head, Princess?”

I look up at him unable, or perhaps unwilling, to drag my gaze away. I don’t even pull him up for calling me Princess again because, fuck, I’ve missed him so much. I ache to step into his arms. It’s physically painful to keep this distance between us, but I have a reputation to uphold and letting him back in would ruin mine. No one knows for certain that he killed Carter, but speculation has been rife since his body, or what was left of it, was found. The fact Syverson disappeared the same night my dad did but has turned up alive and well two years later is a big fucking red flag.

Not to mention that he did actually kill my dad. It’s just as well I’ve got the police chief in my pocket, otherwise Sy would’ve been pulled in for questioning the second he stepped back in town. He knows that just as much as I do. “You lost the right to ask those kinds of questions two years ago, Syverson.”

“You’re right, I did, and it guts me to know that.” He sighs, tracing my features with his gaze. “There’s so much I need to say to you, but all I can think about right now is taking you in my arms and loving you until you understand that I’m sorry.”

“Syverson,” I warn, but he ignores me and brushes his knuckles against my cheek, and just for a moment I’m caught in his pull, in the chemistry and the attraction we’ve always shared. It’s as strong as it ever was. It’s intoxicating.

“Fuck, Louhi. Fuck,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my lips.

“Syverson,” I say, trying and failing not to lean into his hold as his palm presses against my cheek and his fingers massage the shaven hair behind my ear. I can feel myself giving in, feel my heart calling out to his whilst my brain screams at me to stop, to think, to step the fuck away from him. “We belong together, you and me,” he murmurs as I struggle internally, wanting to let him in, knowing that I shouldn’t.

He lowers his head slowly towards mine, and in the short time it takes for him to lean closer, Louhi comes back fighting. I shove at his chest, taking a step back and putting space between us. “I don’t belong to anyone, Syverson. I don’t need to be loved by you. I do just fine without that bullshit in my life!” I lie, my chest heaving as we stare at one another. “We both know that isn’t true, because this thing we have, this connection, it ain’t going away. We’re inevitable, you and me…” And he’s right. We are. A part of me, a desperately needy, lonely part that has missed him, has yearned for him, wants him to take charge and pull me into his arms and kiss me stupid. The other part sighs in relief when he backs up.

“But right now we can’t explore ourselves until you know the truth, and I’m here to give it to you.” “And what truth is that?” I ask, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand. The look in his eyes is enough to make me withdraw emotionally, locking my feelings down, hardening up. Whatever he’s about to say isn’t going to be good. “That I killed Carter not because he wanted me dead for loving you, although that’s reason enough in my book, but because he drew up a contract with the King selling you to that asshole in exchange for paying off his debts.”

Stunned doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling. I’m fucking stupified, a sudden ringing in my ear drowning out every other sound. It takes me a few moments to gather my thoughts and I have to blink back my shock. “What?” I eventually choke out, the floor tipping beneath my feet as I try to make sense of what he’s just said. “That’s a fucking lie!”

“I wish it was.” Sy blows out a sharp breath, my reaction to the truth hurting him as much as the truth hurts me. “I made a new deal with the King as soon as I found out what your dad had planned. I would kill Carter and the King would back off from you, remaining a silent partner in the club. I did it so that I could give you time to build an army so that one day, when the time was right, you could take out the motherfucker yourself.”

“He was going to sell me to the King?” I ask, disbelief quickly dissolving into rage that fires my blood and makes me wish Carter was still alive so that I could drive the motherfucking knife into his back, just like Sy did that night. “Yeah, he was,” Sy confirms, giving me a look of such deep sorrow that I almost, almost stepped into his arms. Instead, I tip up my chin, straighten my spine and funnel some Louhi energy. Maybe my dad had a hand in bringing her to life, but it was always Logan who fuelled her strength. “Tell me why I should believe you?” I ask, not because I don’t believe him—the truth is, I do—but because I need a moment to gather my thoughts. To figure out what the fuck I should do now.

“You don’t have to believe me, but if you want to corroborate my story you just need to check the accounts at The Crib Club,” Sy says. “And how do you propose I do that?” “You managed to shut down the case investigating Carter’s murder. I’m sure you’ll find a way,” he says, knowingly. “Yeah,” I retort, already knowing exactly who to go to for help in that department. “Carter was a bastard, and he deserved to die,” he continues, “And what’s more, I’d do it all again to keep you safe.”

I swallow hard, trying to form the words that just won’t come, because even though I believe him, I have to know for sure he’s telling the truth. When I don’t respond, he swipes a hand through his hair then says: “The only mistake I made was not telling you everything at the time. You weren’t wrong when you said that you didn’t need a man to make decisions for you. I can see just how capable you are, have always been. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of what you’ve built and I’m truly sorry for not giving you the respect you deserved and coming to you with what I found out.” My chest swells with conflicting emotions and it takes a great deal of strength not to fucking buckle, but I stand my ground and remain calm on the surface, even though beneath it all I’m struggling to make sense of everything. I stare at him for a long long time, my throat dry, my pulse racing, my stomach churning and my heart trying its very best to punch a hole through my chest. But I have to keep my head. First I need to check out his story, and then I need to decide what I do with that information. Eventually, I swallow hard and nod.

“I appreciate you coming here and telling me.” “It’s the least you deserve.” “I have a lot to think about,” I admit. “Yeah, I imagine you do,” he acknowledges. “What are you going to do about the King?” “I don’t know yet.” “Well, when you figure that out, I’ve got your back, no strings attached,” he says, giving me a tight smile before heading towards the door and pulling it open. “Syverson!” I call out before I can stop myself, swallowing back the fucking neediness in my voice. He stills, glancing over his shoulder at me, his eyes flickering with hope.

“Yeah?” “Are you still fighting?” “Not since I fought against Derby, why?” “Next weekend I’m holding a contest at the club to celebrate my birthday. Anyone can fight.” “Is that an invitation?” “The winner gets to become one of my soldiers. Are you still a beast, Syverson?” I ask, picking up the glass of bourbon I poured for him and knocking it back in one gulp, relishing the burn. We both know that this is a test, but it’s also an olive branch. The question is, will he take it? “I’ll be here,” he replies, then steps out into the hallway and leaves.

#henry cavill imagine #henry cavill #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #henry cavill thirst #henrycavill smut

48 notes · View notes

hillarysss · 3 years

Text

blunt astro notes shit post

did this on a whim, not professional of me if you feel attacked sorry.. if you’re sensitive scroll

do not repost my shit without my permission.

libra suns we get it you have daddy issues...

cancers mars be switching up so quickkk once they see the cute side of someone, weren’t you just talking shit? “they’re good now🥺”

aquarius moons we get it you can pull both genders cause you’re hot asf

neptune in 3rd y’all make too many typos it’s like you’re not even seeing your keyboard

gemini moons stop crying cause you got mad that the website wouldn’t load in 5 secs, y’all have anger issues

aries moons yall always have headaches and have to sleep 24/7 to fix them

scorpio mercuries, not everyone is out to get you sometimes people just wanna say hi

leo venuses y’all love talking shit it’s your favorite thing, but will cry if your individuality complex isn’t being boosted in a simple conversation

sagittarius mars take the trash out and stop watching anime and do your homework

pisces risings, y’all are very intuitive but will ignore it cause you like somebody... y’all are the type to ask for guidance but you know the answer?? like ur psychic??

mars in 4th.. i’m sorry y’all already have it hard enough

sun-chiron how does it feel to be able to mask up your emotions so easily and no one knows your in pain

cancer placements/ scorpio placements... where are you truly gonna open up to your therapist? ITS NOT BEING USED AGAISNT U💀

aquarius mars y’all are the type to say the weirdest yet most truthful thing in arguements💀💀

sagittarius moons, we GET it.. you’d rather live / be somewhere all the time. “i’d rather be in california rn” “i’d rather be in dunkin’ donuts rn” we get it 💀💀 you have to be doing something in order to feel alive

sagittarius mars we get it you have a bunch of ideas but you can’t seem to write them down and when you do it’s all scattered, y’all have to do little drafts before it’s profesional

uranus in 3rd you all be saying the most random shit and catchphrases😭😭 if you’re taking something seriously, the person has your soft spot for real

uranus in 1st, we GET IT you’re unique and different.. 😭 yet y’all lack common sense but have the most intelligent random ideas??

sun square mars.. we get it💀💀 your father messed up your self esteem..

pisces moons...do y’all like ever get tell anyone your life story..? y’all so secretive 💀

scorpio risings it’s okay to tell someone what you ate today... it will not be used against you..

aquarius risings... how does it feel for everyone to be jealous of you, because you do your own shit and are still hella admired?

gemini venuses.. memes isn’t a love language 😔

sag moon / venus tells me once you find “the one” you’ll take them everywhere like a dog💀💀 “oh guess what honey I bought us tickets to canada.. we’re leaving tomorrow...”

saturn in 8th we get it you feel like no one appreciates your work when you put your whole soul into it

moon in 4th.. it’s okay to let go of your old childhood clothes.. the memories will stay with you

moon in 4th is like having old toys because it means something to you 💀

aquarius venuses we get it you like giving your loved ones unique nicknames that only you know of

leo moons.. we get it your mother takes you shopping every day.. but you also have to hand in those assignments quick though

scorpio moons your friends don’t hate you

taurus moon culture is not using your new car because you don’t wanna ruin it, you want it to look “pretty” forever

taurus moons culture is either gatekeeping your money or spending it right away

moon in 4th / pisces moons.. WE GET IT.. you’re the mother of the friend group and will protect their kids at all costs

scorpio moons we get it.. you love that black nail polish

mercury in 5th.. y’all don’t have to make your texts so aesthetic 24/7

mars in gemini.. WE GET IT you were the quickest typer in your class, and the only reason you win at arguments is because you type hella fast or speak hella fast.. you won’t even let the other person say shit

scorpio placements.. yall say you are bad bitches but can’t handle being wrong.. y’all will bring up anything to win agaisnt somebody 💀

gemini + scorpio in a chart if underdeveloped is a master manipulator. extremely sneaky and quick.. no one can win agaisnt people with these in their chart.. no one

scorpio risings we get it.. you cling on to that one person once you trust them and won’t let them go ever 💀

cancer venuses.... LET GO OF THEM.. THEY SCREWED YOU UP

Sagittarius moon and placement cultures is falling in love with your hot bully because you lowkey like being teased a bit

Venus in 8th.. we get it.. you fantasize about having sex with ur crush 24/7

venus in 7th.. we get it everyone lowkey wants to date you but you’re so insecure to see it

scorpio / virgo placement culture is checking if your door is locked 24/7 or if there is any demons under your bed

mercuries in 8th.. we get it you can mentally see and draw spirits / the evil.. but no one believes you because you can’t physically see them

cancer risings... maybe stop falling in love with anyone who nurtures you and fills in the motherly loving role you never got? ⁉️

mercury in 8th stop writing / reading sex stories

scorpio mercuries / lilith in 8th.. we get it you can talk your way out of a literal crime

Jupiter in 10th is having everyone like you and having your fans / followers give you money because they love you so much

Venus in 10th is being the hot bitch out the friend group

moon square / opposition mars.. we get it.. your mother playfully bullies you as a way of showing love😔

virgo placements be the kid that never talks in real life but talks hella shit on their phone with their friends💀. they lowkey be judging everybody

Sun in 6th was the one kid who everyone asked the homework for..

Sun in 7th was that person who was in the middle of the drama cause they couldn’t decided a side and wanted to keep the peace 💀

Saturn in 11th.. WE GET IT all your friends are older

virgo mercury culture is getting pissed you can’t edit a text after making a grammar error a “serious text”

leo risings./ placements we get it.. you write in all capitals / bold letters to make sure your text isn’t being ignored

saturn in 3rd probably were the oldest one in their classes ⁉️

pisces risings.. we get it.. the only compliment you get is from your eyes..

mars opposition / square pluto.. be careful of your words... y’all scar people 💀.. y’all have anger issues too

pisces placement culture is having to put 1000 alarms because your sleepy ass can’t wake upcan’t even see the snooze button 💀

leo venus culture is being loyal asf but loving attention too much

capricorn culture is making / wanting to make bank since they were 10.

2K notes · View notes

teklarn · 3 years

Note

I NEED A PART TWO FOR BAUKGOU’S AWKWARD CONFESSION!!

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓽. 2

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

a/n: k the first one kinda blew up and i've been on tumblr for like a week and it made me rly happy receiving the requests ty <33 thank u for all the reblogs too !! this is a bit later than i hoped it would come out b/c half of the original fic was deleted by accident, but i’m on summer break until sept 5 so hopefully i’ll still update frequently.

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you.

genre: lil angsty, fluffy at the end

warnings: cursing, one-sided pining, gave reader a quirk, the fighting scene is bs i cannot write action scenes at all im so sorry lol, second hand embarrassment for our dearest dynamight :(

word count: 2507

pls don't mind any typos! i try to edit to the best of my ability but i tend to type fast and i might miss a few or a lot of things.

- - -

read part one here my loves !!

you found yourself bored, cheeks puffing out as you swirled around the drink in your glass cup, sitting across from midoriya. he was muttering again, which you’d always found cute, however you weren’t listening this time at all.

part of the reason you’d rejected bakugou was due to the fact midoriya had requested your attention first, and not as friends. if you’d told bakugou that, it would just wound his delicate ego on top of the fact that you truly had no interest in him whatsoever.

at the moment, though, he was the only thing on your mind. there was no sudden spark of attraction you’d felt when he’d confessed. of course, anyone would find it flattering that the katsuki bakugou found you attractive. his standards were higher than the clouds.

at the moment, it felt like something was blocking your chest from feeling something for him, however you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“—it was amazing, right, y/n? y/n?”

your eyes flickered up to meet the emerald, wide-eyed eyes of your friend. you contemplated lying, but it was no use. shaking your head softly and pursing your lips, you set your drink down. “i’m sorry, midoriya. i’m just kind of...out of it, i guess you could say?”

he cocked his head to the side. “’out of it’?” he repeated.

“yeah,” you sighed, head pounding.

“is everything alright? maybe today isn’t the best time for this.”

“yeah,” you agreed. “maybe.”

“do you want to go back to the dorms?”

you nodded, massaging your temples. “yeah, yeah let’s go home.”

midoriya let out a soft chuckle through his nose, smiling. “alright.” he offered his hand, and you gladly let him heave you up.

“i’m sorry about this. honestly, midoriya, i enjoy your company, i really do. but i never assumed you’d catch feelings for me too—”

“too?” he blinked. the two of you continued on your way back to Heights Alliance.

you gulped. “yeah, there’s—”

“are you saying you caught feelings for me, as well?”

your eyes fell blank, lips parting in question. “no, uh. you know what? never mind.” you giggled gently in hopes the two of you would laugh it off without another thought. perhaps you should keep you and bakugou’s quiet interaction to yourself. midoriya and bakugou were already rivals enough.

the following week was agonizing in many ways. sitting beside bakugou guaranteed that you would get strange, judgmental looks. it never guaranteed his stolen glances. when you’d catch him staring, his cheeks would flare up, and you swore he had smoke puffing out his ears.

each time, he looked as if he would explode. what can you expect from a guy like him?

it was easy to assume you’d just pissed him off, though. you weren’t the type of person to tell everyone you’d been asked out, but you needed to speak to someone about it. the thought had been nagging you, stuck at the back of your mind but just on the tip of your tongue.

you even found that you were distancing yourself from midoriya, who, after asking you out, had insisted you begin calling him izuku. over everyone else, you’d choose him to speak to about the matter, but ever since you’d discovered he had feelings all along, it was strange being around him.

you viewed him differently. he shot you glimmering smiles and blushed softly when you said his first name.

“y/n?”

you twisted around to see mina rocking on her heels behind you. “yes?”

“are you okay? you seem...how do i put this.” she tapped a pink finger against her lips. “off. you seem off. is everything alright?”

your brows raised. “oh, yeah. i’m good. thanks for checking in.”

“is there anything you want to talk about?” she adjusted her hero costume. you and the rest of the girls were currently changing for another training exercise.

yaoyorozu fixed her hero costume. “i don’t mean to impose on anything, but i have to agree with mina, y/n. of course, there’s no pressure to tell us anything. you’re under no obligation to unless you need and want to talk to someone, but we’re here if you need us, okay?”

you nodded, smiling softly. “thanks you guys.”

it was the same training as before, however you were able to select a partner of your own. being that there were 21 students in the class, there was always ought to be a group of three, or one person left out. you’d come into yuuei out of pure luck, as some like to put it.

you’d found it offensive they’d assumed it was that and not your own pure skill. it’d taken a while to re-convince yourself that you were worthy of being in the class, even if you were usually the odd one out.

most students had already bonded by the time you arrived here, so finding a partner wasn’t always easy. once you and midoriya had gotten close, you two did most things together, however at the moment, you weren’t quite feeling it.

surprisingly, your eyes caught bakugou standing alone, eyes scanning the room for a partner. kirishima must have partnered up with another friend, then. it was always them together.

unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough to avoid either of them. bakugou was already trotting up to you, eyes locked on your figure just as midoriya began jogging to your side.

in perfect unison, they asked, “be my partner?” (in two very different tones, of course.)

you blinked between them, about to answer when aizawa came up behind you three.

“are you guys in the group of three?” your teacher deadpanned.

your shoulders slumped. “yeah, i guess so.”

“get to work. you’ve already wasted five minutes standing around.”

you nodded politely. “yes, sensei.”

you swallowed. bakugou’s crimson gaze was pinning you in your spot, and midoriya’s lips thinned with a lack of enthusiasm when bakugou looked back at him.

“get to work, you three,” aizawa repeated, walking away.

“i can take on both of you.” bakugou cracked his knuckles.

you clenched your fists. “we already know you’re at the top of the class, bakugou. there’s no need to rub it in our faces.”

he averted his eyes, cheeks flushing red. it was like a sad, silly way of letting you know you won this fight.

“i’ll go against you two,” you said, adjusting your hero costume.

midoriya’s eyes widened. “what? y/n, but—”

“but i’m not strong enough?” you finished for him. you knew where they ranked in strength, and while yours was just as powerful, if you let one thing slip, your arrows would disappear and you’d be dust. “that’s exactly my point, you two are practically at the top of the class with your quirks.”

“tch, don’t hold back,” bakugou said, readying himself.

“don’t go easy on me,” you mocked.

“y/n, do you really think this is a good idea—” before izuku could finish, you and bakugou launched yourselves at one another.

you charged forwards. an arrow flew from your hand, twisting its way right through the smoke of an explosion. when it cleared, bakugou was nowhere to be seen.

a gasp fell from your lips as you turned around just a little too late. your ears rang terribly as your back collided with the ground.

izuku cried out. green lightning flashed, and he was at your side in a moment. “kacchan!”

you groaned, sitting up. bakugou cut through the smoke with an arm. “fight me, damned nerd. there aren’t any pauses in a real fight.”

you wriggled yourself away from midoriya. “midoriya, you’re my enemy in this.”

“bu—”

“no buts. fight me. and don’t hold back.”

midoriya noted the determination in your eyes and stood, giving you a sure nod. you were back on your feet in a second. bakugou flew in the air and came crashing down just as fast as he conjured a blast in his right hand.

attacking wasn’t your best option right now. you were smart enough to know that. an arrow appeared flat at your back and pulled you from where bakugou was targeting.

cement flew into the air.

that blast could have wounded you badly. possibly killed you, if he’d hit the right spots.

in the air, you examined their zealous features. midoriya’s brows were furrowed in that determined smolder.

bakugou, as always, looked angry. as expected, he charged first, shooting himself into the air. his foot nearly collided with your face, missing my barely an inch. you took your shot, revealing the arrow you’d hidden behind your back. the tip collided with his chest.

you left the arrow to complete its command and stick your blonde opponent to the wall and trap him there while you went after midoriya.

while he bested you in strength, you did the same to him when it came to speed. you dodged his punches like they were weak attempts at hitting a ball in a park.

you grinned. in a battle of strength and speed, whoever landed the first hit would win. there was no question.

twisting in the air, you allowed the ball of your foot to shove midoriya to the ground. he cried out as his face was crushed into the cement.

it was perfect timing, as bakugou ripped free of your hold, the arrow keeping him in one spot dissolving into air as soon as its purpose was lost.

your head whipped around to see him charging for you.

your fingers curled. the headache pounding at your temples was beginning to get hard to ignore.

bakugou launched himself at you, spinning in the air like a missile. he really wasn’t going to howitzer you...right?

when he didn’t slow down, you threw your body to the right, the attack just barely missing your leg. it scorched a bit of your thigh. a groan fell from your lips as you cupped the area around the burn, shuddering with pain.

bakugou’s chest was puffed proudly as he marched up to you, hands cracking with excited explosions.

he pulled back his right arm, ready to spark up another fight as midoriya recollected himself. you bit your lip to hide the fact you were quivering.

it was sudden, but bakugou paused when he saw your hand fly up.

“give me a minute...” you gasped out, skin still sizzling.

“y/n! are you alright?”

you didn’t respond. midoriya smacked his friend’s arm. “kacchan! what’re you thinking?”

“midoriya, i’m fine. don’t stress over it.” you limped to your feet, rejecting the extended hand from your green-haired friend. “i’ll just go see recovery girl.”

“do you need—”

you smacked midoriya’s hand away, a little bit more rude than you intended it to be. “i’ll be...fine.” you offered a weak smile to hopefully make up for your tiny outburst.

although you could see in his eyes he wanted to help, midoriya nodded and stood by, hand falling back to his side. you clutched around the patch of burned skin. the sting had faded a bit, however there was a soreness to the wound that felt like a constant stabbing to your leg.

you swallowed the pain down, marching towards the exit with determination and a bit of a limp.

you looked back to see midoriya had gone off to tell mr. aizawa what was going on. your teacher nodded, understandingly.

there were a few worried glances and offers for help in the hall, but you’d neglected them all and found yourself relieved to see recovery girl in her office, typing away.

she turned as the door opened. “please knock beforehand next time—oh, dear. y/n? are you alright?”

you gave a tense nod. “mhm. just got a bit banged up in training today.”

the old woman pursed her lips, smile lines becoming evident. “i see.” she led you to the small cot reserved for patients such as yourself and directed you to sit down.

she examined the bruise. “it’s fairly bad. what happened?”

you made a gesture to the door. “i was brawling with bakugou and things got...intense.”

“that boy has quite an extreme side to him, as i’ve come to notice.”

“mhm,” you agreed.

“unfortunately, y/n, i have no ointments to be able to treat this properly.”

you nodded sheepishly before the old woman smooched your cheek. a soft green glow radiated around you.

when she pulled back, she said, “now, your body will be trying to catch up on the healing process. that’s what my quirk does. speed up recoveries. since it’s sped up, you’ll require some rest, preferably sleep. i’ll make sure your teachers know you’re excused for the rest of the day, sound good?”

“yes, thank you recovery girl.”

she pushed herself out of her rolling chair and left the room, smiling at you.

your eyes fluttered shut not long after that.

the sun was gone when you woke up, the hallway light flickering off.

“good, you’re awake.”

you looked to the left. you cried out, gathering the white sheets around yourself despite being completely clothed. “bakugou! what the hell? you stalker! you creep!”

bakugou took the slap you gave him on his arm. it was light, and didn’t do much damage.

“what...what do you want?”

even in the dark, you could tell bakugou’s cheeks were burning red. “about...about the other day. i wanted to talk to you about it.”

your chest fluttered in unwanted hope. “there’s nothing to talk about.”

“dammit, y/n, i wish there wasn’t anything to talk about. you’re insufferable and annoying and i can’t stand being around you because no matter what’s going on, you make my chest feel all funny. it’s stupid, and i can’t take my eyes off of you.”

heat rushed to your cheeks. “i’m flattered, really. but i-”

“i’m not asking you to reciprocate my shitty feelings. if anything, it’s better if you don’t.”

“bakugou, i wasn’t...” you paused.

“you what?” he snapped, voice soft despite his tone.

“i was going to say that ever since you...ever since you asked me out, i’ve been conflicted about my own feelings.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“i’m not sure if i like you back or not, bakugou. but hearing you say all this...makes me want to give it a shot. sort of. also, why the hell are you watching me sleep?”

bakugou swept hair from his eyes. “don’t go and try to change the subject on me, dumbass.”

you gulped.

“so what’re you saying?”

“i’m saying,” you started, “i’m saying that maybe i want to go out on that date with you.”

“say it again.”

“what?” you looked up, his eyes boring into yours.

“i said i want you to say it again. tell me you want to go out on a date with me.”

it startled you how sure he was when he knew what you wanted, too. this was unlike the last attempt to ask you out.

“katsuki bakugou, i want to go on a date with you.”

he grinned. “where to?”

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studythenight-away · 4 years

Text

Hello! As finals season (aka 5-research-papers-due-in-a-week season) dawns on many of you, I thought I would share the process I used to write papers in college. This made writing long research papers much less daunting (but can also work on shorter papers). I really hope this helps some of you who feel stuck. Especially during these ridiculous times, when you're stuck at home and might have other uncontrollable factors affecting your mental health, a clear framework of what to do could be helpful. Good luck, my friends! You got this.

About me

I graduated college in 2018 with degrees in Political Science + International Studies and will be starting law school this fall. I wrote nearly 20 15 to 25-page papers, never earning below an A. I loved researching about my topics but hated writing. It's tedious, takes so much time, and everything I write sounds bad at first. Plus, I was a terrible procrastinator so most of these essays were written in under a week. Talk about stress.

Over time I found a process that worked for me, one that made churning out a paper seem straightforward, like going through a factory line rather than this terrifying concept of writing 10,000 words. It kept me sane without decreasing the quality of my work (or more importantly, how much I learned!)

I'm thinking about making a short video to show this in action… let me know if that could be helpful!

Step 1: Research

How you organize your research is a key step in keeping you sane. Usually I'll have a pile of 20 books in my dorm along with dozens of JSTOR tabs open on my laptop, and that can get overwhelming very fast. Right now just focus on collecting ideas, not developing an argument or even an outline! As with most research papers, you could be starting with little to no background information on the topic, so it is still too early to be thinking about an argument.

Put all your research in one document

Open up a new doc: this will be the heart of everything. For a 15-page paper I usually end up with around 14-18 pages of typed research, 10 pt font, single spaced, tiny margins. This seems like a lot, but essentially all I do is type up anything I read that seems relevant to my topic, so luckily this step does not require that much brain power. Just type type type!

Use the table of contents

Find the chapter(s) that are actually relevant instead of skimming through the whole book. Time is of the essence here!

Use Zotero, cite right away

You can also use easybib or whatever you're used to, but keep track of your sources. I like Zotero because I can keep a log of all of my sources and copy the footnote or bibliography version whenever needed. Before you even begin reading, cite the source and copy it into your research doc. This will save you so much time later when you have to put in your citations in the actual paper.

Here is an example of what my research doc looks like:

Full citation is my heading for each source just so it’s crystal clear

I ignore all typos (I don’t think there are any in this part though, go me!) because my head is buried in the book just trying to get all the info down

I always start with the page number so I know what to cite when I go back

Create a shorthand

While typing up research, you might think of something that the author didn't talk about that you'll want to write in your paper. Or perhaps a few sentences already start to form. Put them all in one place, with your research, so you know what source you'll have to cite to then lead into your idea. I type "!@#" before anything that is strictly my own idea so I'm never confused. It's fast and stands out.

This is an example: the two bullet points above are evidence from my source, which made me think of this argument I could make, which I noted with “!@#”

Step 2: Read Your Research

Now that you have all your information, go back and read through it all. Every time you read about a new theme/person/event, write it down somewhere. You may come up with a list of 20+ different ideas in your research. No matter how small, as long as there is something about it, write it down. Each of these mini themes is going to end up being a paragraph in your paper or combined with another mini theme.

Once you’ve made your list, look for larger overarching themes. In the paper I’ve shown you, I had mini categories like “political party x” “religion” “labor groups” “little organization” and “hierarchy.” When I looked back I though, hey these are all groups and how groups are working together, so they each became their own mini paragraph under the subsection of “Alliances.”

As with most research paper structures, I try to find three general themes/subsections (like an extended version of that 5-paragraph essay we wrote in middle school). It makes the paper less messy and also makes sure I’m not covering things that are beyond a reasonable scope.

During this step, you are also searching for your thesis. It won’t be your final version. As you fill in your outline in the next step you may make slight changes. But this is definitely when you start thinking about it.

Step 3: Outline

We’re ready to outline! Once I’ve collected all my different themes and organized all my subsections and paragraphs, it’s time to fill in that outline. I start a new doc just for the outline and take advantage of google doc’s headings function to make a clear document outline.

Here comes the fun part, I read through my research one more time, this time copy and pasting all my research into each section of the outline. The document outline in google docs makes this easy because I can just click on each subheading to get me there (super helpful when you’re dealing with 15+ pages of research).

Here is what it looks like:

Let’s say I need to add something to my outline about labor groups. Boom, labor groups. Also, the typos are really abound here haha

Step 4: Write the Paper

Okay, I get it, easier said than done. BUT! You already have everything set up. Your outline is essentially just a list of your paragraphs and all you have to do is paraphrase, cite, and create a topic sentence. And that’s how you should think about this: you’re essentially transforming bullet points into sentences and adding footnotes.

In high school my English teacher introduced us to Sh*tty First Drafts for creative writing, but honestly the same applies to research papers. Sometimes I’ll even have phrases like “wait no that’s not what I meant but basically...” and when I go back to edit, I realize that what came after “but basically...” is fine! And I keep it. So just start typing.

How do you cite while you write? Because we’re trying to get a constant stream of writing going, inserting proper footnotes after each sentence you type is too bothersome. I usually split screen with my outline and my paper so I just copy and paste a few words from my bullet point into my footnote, like so:

(This is from a different paper about cluster munitions.)

Step 5: Edit the Paper

I work best when I print out my first draft and make all edits in red pen. I feel more productive and can visually see where I want to move sentences and what I need to change. The more red there is the better I can feel the paper getting. (Whether or not that’s true doesn’t matter. We’re trying to stay motivated here!) When it’s all digital I don’t really see the progress. Plus, once I finish all the red, I get another moment of passive brain work, where all I’m doing is transferring edits rather than thinking. And at this point in the process, that kind of relief is much welcomed.

The good thing about this process is there’s not usually a need to cut entire paragraphs or pages because the paper you end up with is just a formalized version of your outline. Because you started with such a detailed outline, the cutting and editing now is just to refine your word choices and get rid of the “but basically”s. You’re almost there!

Step 6: Replace your citations

Now it’s time to go back and replace your footnotes with actual citations. Zotero makes this easy because in Word you can just insert and add the page number, and it’ll automatically do “Ibid.” for you when needed. Ctrl+f in the original research doc to quickly find the source.

Step 7: One More Read-Through and Submit!

Congratulations!! You’ve got a fully-researched and well-backed paper! Of course, even though the process is straightforward, it’s still a lot of work. In ideal situations I would start researching two weeks before the deadline, but if need be, I believe I’ve done this all in three miserable panic-filled days as well.

Please message me if you have any questions at all! I really hope some of you find this helpful! Good luck!

#studyblr #college #university #writing #essay #study tips #studytna #original #research #research paper #study #student #school #you can do it!

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

Of Deadlines and Drama

For @jontim-week Day Three: Late

Rating: T

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Jon’s has trouble with his expenses. Tim helps out.

“Late again? Really, Jon?”

“I know, I know!” Jon types as fast as his shaking hands will allow, but it’s no use. It’s Wednesday and its half past twelve, meaning Rosie will not be accepting his expense report under any circumstances. She’s a stickler for deadlines- at least, when it comes to Jon. They’ve never been on the best of terms, but ever since what Jon has deemed ‘The Incident,’ she’s been downright unpleasant.

“I thought you set an alarm this time!” Tim says, coming over to lean against his desk. Tim has an alarm for everything - waking up, eating, exercising, going to bed. Jon doesn't know how he stands it. “I didn’t hear anything go off.”

“I might have told you I set one,” he winces, avoiding Tim’s eyes. “And then forgot to.”

“Jon, Jon, Jon…”

“Don’t triple Jon me!” he snaps, attempting to focus on the meaningless numbers in front of him. “I’m stressed enough as is. God, Elias is going to kill me…”

“Why are you trying to impress him?” Tim plops down in the chair beside him and props his feet up on Jon’s desk, raising an eyebrow. He looks infuriatingly handsome in his button up and sweater, a look that Jon has tried to emulate, only to achieve ‘overworked librarian.’ “The only person you should be trying to impress is me. Your boyfriend. The light of your life, the reason you get up in the morning-”

“The reason these are going to be even later than usual,” Jon snaps and knocks Tim’s feet off of the desk with a sharp elbow. Tim yelps and throws Jon a hurt look that he tries and fails to ignore. “I’m sorry. You did tell me to set an alarm. It’s just...these things get away from me.”

“I know.” Tim’s face softens as he scooches his chair over and leans forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “How can I help?”

“You can convince Rosie to accept these. You’re very persuasive.” He turns and gives Tim his best doe-eyed look, though he already knows the answer.

“I am persuasive, aren’t I?” Jon ignores his preening. “But that’s not going to work. You know as soon as she sees your name…”

Jon sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “Yes, I know.”

“What did you do to her, Jon? Run over her dog? I know they scare you, but still...”

“They don’t scare me,” Jon lies, pointedly looking away. “I just...would rather not have them near my person. And you know I can’t drive.”

“What then?” Jon says nothing, focusing instead on chipping away at a small scratch in the wood of his desk. The whole thing’s rather embarrassing, and he’s gone this long without telling anyone. Tim moves his chair even closer, nudging it against Jon’s and squishing him into his desk. He’s effectively trapped.

“C’mon. Pleeease?”

Jon sighs at the wheedling tone. “I...may have snapped at her.”

“You do that with everyone, though. Unless you said something especially heinous...” Another nudge to his chair.

“And then... stumbled.”

“...okay?”

Jon closes his eyes. “And spilled my tea all over Elias’s mail.”

Tim guffaws, as expected, and Jon can feel his face warm. It certainly wasn’t his proudest moment, he can still hear Rosie’s screeching and his own stammered apologies. “That’ll do it! God, I wish I’d seen that.”

“It was incredibly embarrassing, and I’m glad you didn’t. Elias wasn’t in, thank god.”

“You could’ve gotten it all over one of those posh suits he wears.” Jon shudders at the thought. Elias is fastidious about his appearance, he would’ve been fired on the spot. Starting to feel claustrophobic, Jon pushes back against Tim’s chair to give himself breathing room and tries to refocus. He’s dawdled long enough.

Tim hums. “Hmm, maybe…”

“Maybe what?” He tucks his head over Jon’s shoulder, probably eying the obvious errors in his report. Jon’s never been good with numbers.

“Rosie doesn’t accept expenses after twelve, that’s true. But…” Tim trails off, definitely relishing in the small twitch in Jon’s eye when he does it. He enjoys riling him up, and he’s very good at it. Jon contains the urge to elbow him in the stomach.

“But what?” He’s starting to sound like a broken record.

“But she doesn’t actually give them to Elias until three or four.” Tim smirks at his affronted gasp. Jon’s never been that late, but Rosie’s always going on about ‘deadlines being very important to Mr. Bouchard’ and ‘I’m sorry I just can’t accept these so late, I’ve already given him the pile.’ Jon’s wallet has paid the price for this on more than one occasion- he counts on those reimbursements, and it often leaves him short on cash for the rest of the week. Tim will pick up the check on those days, waving off Jon’s protests and trying to assuage his guilt. Before he can start raging about the newly-discovered arbitrary deadline, Tim cuts in.

“But if I distract her, you can slip them in her little pile and she’ll be none the wiser!” Tim gives him a cheeky grin. It’s...not a bad plan, but Jon’s hesitant at the thought of pulling one over on his boss’s secretary.

“Or I could just wait until she goes to the bathroom and do it then.” Tim’s face falls at the suggestion.

“Or I could distract her.”

Ah. So that’s what this is about. They haven’t been on an investigation in weeks, and he always gets restless when they’re cooped up in the institute. And a bored Tim is a dangerous Tim.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! This way we can control the scenario, make sure you have enough time to get in and out.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “And what if she sees through your antics?”

Tim gives a dramatic gasp, rearing back in his seat and just barely missing a passing librarian. “Are you doubting my acting skills? I’ll have you know you aren’t the only theater kid in this place. And I didn’t want to bring it up, but...you owe me.”

Jon’s heart drops. Of course. Jon can’t coast along on his boyfriend’s paychecks, that’s asking too much. It’s his fault he’s in this predicament, and honestly, he should be thanking Tim for even offering.

“For bailing on that stakeout.”

Jon pauses, and promptly dismisses his guilt. “I was sick! From a cold you gave me, might I add-”

“Technicalities.” Tim waves a dismissive hand. “C’mon. Do me a favor. Let your boyfriend save the day. Please?” He does his best impression of a kicked puppy, and Jon’s almost afraid he’ll go down on his knees to complete the look.

“Fine,” he sighs, ignoring the answering cheer. “If you must. But how are you going to-”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” Tim winks, jumping up from his seat and throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Leave it to me. Finish those up, and I’ll be back before you know it.” He’s already halfway through the door before Jon can say thank you, and only pauses to call back “Have Sasha check for typos! Love you!”

Jon scowls at the snickers that follow this statement, and turns back to his screen. The numbers blurred together, and he’s pretty sure he’s subtracted when he should’ve added. It’s a wonder he ever gets these done at all.

“Sasha? Can you look at this for me?”

_________

Tim promptly comes back with coffee (which Jon knows he hates) and cronuts, dropping one off at Jon’s desk. “She won’t be able to resist,” he promises with a peck to Jon’s cheek. “When you see us in the hallway, that’s your cue!”

In spite of himself, he starts to feel a little excited. Tim’s exuberance is contagious, and while not as thrilling as an investigation, Jon’s not above a bit of petty revenge. Not even revenge, really, more justice for the pain and suffering of his bank account. And not ten minutes later, Tim and Rosie are chatting amicably as they walk past the library, cronuts in hand. He feels the slightest bit of envy at how easily Tim can make friends, but tamps it down as he tiptoes up the stairs and over to Rosie’s desk. Elias’s door is thankfully closed.

And her desk is...empty. Immaculate. Nothing but a tiny notepad and her usual knickknacks, not a paper in sight. Fuck. Had she already given them to Elias? Is Jon too late? Did Tim waste money on coffee and cronuts for nothing? Calm down, he tells himself, willing his heart to slow. Just...have a look around.

He tries not to feel too guilty as he rummages through her mail trays and under her place mat. There’s nothing too personal, though he averts his eyes at a list entitled New Year, New Intentions. It’s when he finally turns to the drawers that he sees it- the corner of a file folder, sticking out of the bottom drawer. Please be it, please be it. He tugs it out, wincing at the small tear it causes and aha! He’s found it. A pile of neatly clipped expense reports is nestled inside, and all he needs to do is stick his in the middle where she can’t see and he’ll be fine-

“Jon?”

The voice startles him so badly he lets out a little yelp, the folder flying from his hands and papers littering the floor around him. He puts a hand on his chest to calm his racing heart and turns around to find Elias, who’s just caught him snooping through his secretary’s desk like a little thief. Jon didn’t even hear the door open. Oh god. I’m fucked. I’m fired.

“I-um, h-hello! Elias.” He gives an awkward little wave and immediately curses himself for doing it. It’s like he’s suddenly forgotten what normal people do with their hands. “I was just...looking for a pen. T-To write Rosie. A note.”

“A note.” Elias raises one eyebrow, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe a word coming out of Jon’s mouth. To be fair, Jon wouldn’t either. When put on the spot, Jon can’t lie to save his life. “And this file…?” He bends down to pick up the folder clearly marked ‘Expenses’ in bold, black print. Jon winces.

“It...fell out?”

“Oh, Jon.” Elias tuts, and Jon refrains from full body flinching. He has a particular hatred of being scolded, and especially by Elias, of all people. The man he’s desperate to impress, who holds his job in his hands. “There’s no need for the ruse. Deadlines aren’t exactly your strong suit, are they?”

“No,” he mumbles, the words barely audible as he struggles to meet Elias’s eyes. He loves having his flaws pointed out to him. Loves it. “I’m sorry.”

“However, you do fine work.” Jon blinks and there it is- a rare, indulgent smile. It’s incongruous with those strange, cold eyes, but it makes Jon feel better all the same. “You’re one of our best researchers. But if you want to move up in the world, timeliness is of the utmost importance, yes?”

“Y-Yes,” Jon stammers, nodding his head up and down like a puppet. Move up in the world? Jon’s never considered himself ‘promotion material,’ but the thought that Elias thinks it possible fills him with excitement. You do fine work, he said. Fine work! “I’ll do my best.”

“Of course.” Elias offers the folder to Jon’s trembling hands, and gives him a conspiratorial smile. “This, however, can be our little secret, hm? I believe I saw Rosie and Mr. Stoker in the break room, but I think they’ll be back any minute. Best to tidy up before she notices.”

Jon can’t help the beam that spreads across his face. “T-Thank you, Elias. Really. It won’t happen again-”

“I know it won’t.” Elias gives him a brisk nod, suddenly all business, and turns back to his office, shutting the door briskly behind him without another word. Jon takes that as his cue to scurry across the floor, grabbing up the papers as frantically as possible while taking care not to crumple them further. It takes him a few moments, but he manages to get them in order and tucks his own into the pile. He places it carefully in the drawer he found it in, corner sticking out just as before. No Rosie in sight. Thank god.

With that, he bolted. Best not to be spotted anywhere near the scene of the crime.

______

“Did it work?” Tim rushes into the library, talking entirely too loudly and plopping down on Jon’s desk, sending pens flying. Jon chooses to ignore this. “I brought Rosie her favorites, gave up my choicest gossip to get her out of that seat. Told her if Elias overheard he’d go mental.” Tim pauses to consider this. “Actually, that might’ve been true. It involves a copier and a certain someone-”

“It worked,” Jon quickly cuts him off. He doesn’t need any more info on whatever...that was. “Thank you. But Elias caught me.” Tim looks at him incredulously, as if surprised he survived the encounter. “And he was...okay with it? I mean, he told me it couldn't happen again, but he said ’it’s our little secret.”

Tim blanches at the words. “What?”

“He also said I did fine work,” Jon admits shyly. “I didn’t know he paid attention to me, but-”

“Hang on, ‘our little secret’? Fine work!?” Tim shrieks and Jon hurriedly shushes him, looking anxiously around the library. No one pays attention, used to their antics by now. “What’s that supposed to be, a euphemism?”

“A euphemism? What on earth could that be a euphemism for?”

“I don’t know!” Tim waves a hand around dramatically, and he actually looks a bit put out. Is he...jealous? Jon can’t help the small smirk and Tim notices it right away. “Don’t give me that! I don’t like the way he looks at you. Sasha’s noticed too. It’s downright creepy.”

“The grey is a bit disconcerting, I’ll give you that.”

“It doesn’t match his face! Weird, right?”

“Anyway,” Jon says, eager to cut off yet another tangent. “Your plan worked.”

“Not really.” Tim pouts, kicking his feet out like a toddler and turning away with his arms crossed. Only Tim can manage to make the petulant look work on a twenty-eight year old man.

“Yes, really!” Tim doesn’t turn around and Jon internally rolls his eyes, albeit fondly. “Look, I’ll get my check next Friday with everyone else. And then I’ll take you out to dinner. How does that sound?”

That did it. Tim tilts his head towards him, gives him a playful smile. “Gonna romance me, Sims? Pull out all the stops?”

Jon returns it. “All the second-rate sushi you want.”

“You’re a prince among men.” Tim hops off his desk and gives his forehead a kiss. Jon’s partial to those kisses and he can feel himself melting at the touch, even as his smile turns wicked.

“I could ask Elias if he’s free as well-”

He doesn’t manage to dodge the pen that flies his way, but he doesn’t mind. Jealousy’s not a bad look on Tim.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103509

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #jontimweek #precanon #established relationship #is this ridiculous and dumb? sure #do i care? no!#we need some low stakes alright #this podcast stresses me out enough #no warnings here i believe

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silvia7272 · 3 years

Text

Miraculess Ladybug Salt AU: You Always Liked To Play With Fire ~ The Prologue

Hey everyone, this is a new story I wanted to introduce to you all.

I’ve been putting everything in a massive word doc because I had so many ideas and finally settled on putting it out today because it's my birthday. 29th, I may have updated it late.

Yay.

So as a special treat, here’s a new series with a few original characters, ones you know or have been changed ever so slightly to fit, in a Miraculess world. (haha, you see what I did there? No… I’ll leave)

Also for anyone new, I’m a multi-shipper so I ship my characters with a bunch of other people, as I like Lukanette (Fandom Version), Daminette (Fandom Version), Felinette (PV Fandom Version), Marichat (Fandom Version) and I guess Rosannette. What’s Rosannette? Well, I guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you? (also no that’s not a typo, it is Rosannette)

Also, I guess this will just have the usual salt, maybe more, I don’t know. I kinda want it to just be about these two.

Word Count: 3912

Note: I haven’t tagged anyone just in case, this is a different series from my other, I just got really excited and wanted to write it. If you still wish to be tagged for this story please say and specify.

Also: This is a salt story, it will have OOC moments from everyone so it will be classed as an AU. If you don’t want to read that’s fine, and have a nice day.

Well, I hope you’ll enjoy it.

This is for all the people that might prefer Rosinette (like from the songfic) instead, I don’t mind but it won’t be in my main series, so I hope this will satisfy you.

(Word of warning, I believe this will be an AU where the Miraculous don’t exist, and non-canon to my official story and I believe mentions of a panic attack might be lightly mentioned, don’t know if it is, but if someone could check and I’ll make the warning clearer that would be nice)

Summary:

(Fire doesn't exactly have anything to do with this story I just really liked the title)

Note: This book contains OOC scenes of Miraculous Ladybug as well as a ton of salt, so if you don't like that stuff you may scroll past and have a nice day.

In a world with no Miraculous, no Hawkmoth and no Ladybug, how does our little heroine do?

Well, it usually would be hanging out with her friends, as any other teenager would do...

But, of course, this wasn't normal.

This was reality. It was cold, hard and definitely not welcome.

So, when this girl wishes to have some kind of adventure in her boring, mundane life...

How long does it take for her to regret it?

***

Memories, it's such a simple word yet it holds so much meaning. One could either wish to forget everything from their life, and simply move forward so they could pursue their dreams. Or, simply relish in the past when they remembered how great it was, all the friends they had made, all the moments they had which were too good to let go.

But, I guess sometimes, you did have to let go. But let go of what exactly? Let go of all the happiness once you knew how it would end? No that would be too harsh and you’d turn bitter. Let go of all the sadness? But, wasn’t it an important life lesson to learn, sometimes, you just have to be sad because of the situation at hand. No amount of croissants or macarons would be able to lift your spirits back.

Or maybe that was too much of a specific example.

That was what Marinette had thought, staring at an empty glass so intently the man behind made himself disperse from the amount of time the unblinking woman just stared and never flinched.

She guessed it hadn’t all been bad, she at least had some form of happiness before it was violently ripped away, but part of her wondered, what would’ve happened if she never felt that type of happiness before? Would she have felt like she had for so long, was it the fact that she knew what being happy was like before worse? Because, as depressing as it sounded, if she hadn’t been as happy, would she have been as upset?

She would never know, she couldn’t go back in time since that was impossible, but the thought always came and went whenever she was alone with her thoughts.

So… Maybe it was for the best, that she was able to remember what real happiness felt like.

The tight feeling in your chest, butterflies in your stomach, face being so red anyone would worry if the bluenette had caught a cold instead-

Wait- this was an oddly specific kind of happiness she felt, surely she must’ve gotten mixed up with some other felling right?

Right!?

So, how come she was feeling this- incredibly bright heat from her cheeks when she felt a hand on her shoulder?

We may need to go back several years.

***

In a classroom in Collège Françoise Dupont, a young pigtailed girl sat at the back, tears silently falling onto her knees and bawled up fists. She didn’t see any use of wiping them away, since they would just come back anyway, and it would be useless to just repeat that endless cycle. She hadn’t looked around to see anyone else’s faces, they would either just ignore her, or taunt her for just crying, for just being human.

Now you may be wondering why she was so upset? What possibly could’ve happened to make our very cheerful and sunshiny girl become so hunched over she was practically crying her eyes out? Well, the answer lies on the one girl at the front. The one girl sitting in an all too familiar place. The one girl who just ruined all of her newfound friendships.

Lila Rossi.

And boy had she hated that name.

She couldn’t stand that smirk, that thief, that scandal!

And what exactly did she do?

She lied.

Now you may be thinking that may not have been all that bad, but it was.

Every time she opened her mouth, everyone would fawn around her, even Alix, the one who seriously couldn’t care about anything to do with glamourous celebrities, was hanging on the edge of her seat to hear one of Lila’s so-called stories. She just had to guess Lila held up a treat over her head to keep her being obedient enough.

She hated Lila so much because she was just using everyone to get an easy life at school, the fastest way towards popularity she guessed, but why she thought this was the fastest way was beyond her.

She hated Lila because she had spread so many lies, so many rumours, all about her. All so out of the realm it was such a surprise they all believed her without a shred of evidence.

It had happened so fast, one day, they were all friends, smiling and laughing like there was no tomorrow, the next, she was surrounded by those faces, those faces of disgust and hatred. As if she had committed even the worst of crimes, more so than Chloé, speaking of, who was absolutely enjoying this show.

But undoubtedly. What she hated about Lila the most.

Was that technically, she didn’t have to do that much.

After so many sessions of crying, and just not believing that they could possibly leave her, a friend, like that, she started to reason with herself, that maybe it wasn’t just Lila that pushed them all away.

She thought back to before.

Before they were friends, before Alya even came to Collège, she had been alone. Chloé had always gone out of her way to relentlessly bully her, and no one wanted to be friends with her with Chloé around. So she accepted it, just hoping one day, karma would seek justice and she’d be put in her place.

So she waited.

And waited.

And-

Gave up.

She accepted defeat after all the years. After the meaningless conversations with teachers that she should try and be the bigger person and rise above all of her hatred for her. Simply because they couldn’t do anything. They had no power over the mayor's Daughter. So they just let her continue her reign over the school.

She didn’t have any powers to stop her.

But then, a light of hope came.

The new girl, with ombre brown and red hair, glasses and hazel eyes. A striped t-shirt and an undeniable Aura that reeked of confidence.

As Marinette was being targeted by Chloé yet again, she came in, and for once, stood up to her. Chloé! No fear in her eyes as she, Alya, grabbed her, Marinette’s, hand and walked off to the desk at the front.

She couldn’t believe it, someone stood up to Chloé! She thought it had only been a myth, a legend, but that right there, it was real.

They became friends faster than the speed of sound.

And soon, she too was able to stand up for herself. Reclaiming her original seat back, and citing a quote her new friend had said… Then everyone had wanted to become friends… And, she felt ecstatic.

Finally. It finally came. The day she had prayed for had come. She felt nothing but pure joy.

And she didn’t want that feeling to go away.

She was terrified that the feeling would go away.

So, she thought of making sure that feeling wouldn’t go away.

That’s why she made so many ‘spare’ macaroons to give away, she didn’t spend her free nights staying up and making them, no way.

That’s why she provided so many free gifts to her friends. What? Her hand has a plaster, no she just tripped and hit herself, it had nothing to do with the gifts. Don’t worry, try your gloves on, do they fit?

That’s why she was late for class. Huh, no I’m fine, I’m not tired… But I might just rest my eyes for a bit, wake me up when something important happens.

That’s why she was so happy to realise Adrien wasn’t as bad as Chloé, the small gentle soul that he had, to graciously provide her with his own umbrella, how selfless.

And that’s why she held onto the idea of Adrien so much. The idea that he was perfect. The idea that she was in love with him.

So, she held onto it.

No, she clung to that idea because she didn’t want any chance to let go. So, she may have gone a bit overboard, with the whole, schedule thing, and the phone… And the schemes. But she believed it was harmless. No one else seemed to have any problems with it, so she believed she was in the clear.

Until she wasn’t.

And Lila used that to her advantage.

She remembered that day so vividly, just like all those other memories. The day she came. The day she would find herself in the same predicament from before, it hadn’t been that long since she had been friends with everyone in fact. She was still getting used to it, and her feelings grew as each day passed by.

She remembered when Lila introduced herself to the whole class, and at first glance, anyone would just think she was an innocent little girl. But behind that smile, behind those eyes, held a sinister intention.

She, in less than an hour, had everyone wrapped around her little finger.

Even her.

She’d been on a private jet?

Had a song written about her?

And saved Jagged Stone’s cat?

There was no way Adrien would fall for her now.

…So maybe she had been jealous of that girl before she had done anything. But she had every reason to. She, Lila, was pressed against Adrien who was happily talking to her. The love of her life! She had to do something, even if Alya had given her a disappointed look she just had to stop them from confessing their love to each other, it was inevitable now, so she followed after them to the park. If they even got too close, she was sure she could just conveniently interrupt, she just had to wait for the perfect moment, she only had a couple of hours before they would fall in love, get married, have three kids and a hamster named-

“Wow Adrien, you’re so nice to me. Y’know I really thought moving here would be just like all the other times. But you’ve really made me enjoy my first day Adrien.” She smiled so sickly sweet Marinette wanted to hurl, how dare she just hold onto his arm like that, so affectionately!

“Its no problem Lila, that’s what friends are for.” She smiled, hugging him so fast they almost lost their balance from sitting on the bench, before seemingly giving him a quick peck on his cheek, only for Adrien to turn his head towards her.

And they kissed.

However, it wasn’t a simple quick kiss, by all means, Adrien should’ve realised his mistake and pulled away.

But he didn’t, what felt like forever lasted a minute. One minute to realise that it should’ve been an accident. But they stayed like that.

It- it was over, wasn’t it? This wasn’t her being melodramatic, she just knew how it would turn out. They were going to fall in love so soon, she wouldn’t have a chance.

If only she had seen the look Lila gave, spotting her retreated form from behind a small trash can, the smirk would’ve given her shivers.

***

Getting back to Collège had taken longer than expected. Maybe it was the small amount of dread knowing she may have lost her love for good. Sure, there might have been Kagami as well, she had tried to sabotage her chances with Adrien too, but it always worked out in the end, Adrien always smiling as Kagami’s cheeks burned with redness. But to say they were friends afterwards.

Marinette would cringe at the fact she always felt so relieved afterwards reflecting years later at her choices. But she had always believed she would still have a chance.

Until today.

Lila came, and took him away, within hours.

And she couldn’t stop it.

Walking along the stairs to her class she had to keep her head held high, if she showed weakness, that would mean she was sad, she wasn’t sad, she couldn’t be sad. She still had all of her friends after all.

Maybe now, they could do more activities, after crying and eating a ton of ice cream of course with cheesy movies to brighten her mood up.

But, this would only be the beginning of that negative feeling.

Opening the door, she would be fully aware of something terribly wrong. At the front of the classroom, a crowd had formed, and a crowd that would soon become a routine in this classroom.

But a crowd formed around a girl, the new girl, Lila. She had seemed to be covering her eyes, water dripping down her eyes, no wait they were tears. What had happened?

She didn’t realise she had spoken those few words before heads turned around, looking- no glaring at her, why were they-? What had she done?

“Marinette I knew you could be a tad jealous but to actually do something like that” Huh? Oh no, Lila must’ve noticed she followed them, how embarrassing, and definitely not the best first impression she could’ve made.

Before she could apologise, before she could explain she really didn’t mean any harm. She didn’t have time to.

“To threaten her to never talk to Adrien again because she likes him. Well, I never thought you’d put your jealousy out like this.”

What!?-

No- she didn’t- she, just saw them kiss.

She didn’t even speak with her.

Why would she say this?

Why didn’t she say anything?

Why wasn’t she defending herself?

Why was she letting them believe that so easily?

Why

Why.

Why was it so hard to breathe?

Running out of the classroom was easier than looking at all of those faces. Those accusatory faces. She hated it, she couldn’t do- defend- explain.

She- just-

She-

She was in a room?

The bathroom.

It didn’t matter why, as long as she was alone, she could cry to her heart's content.

The fear seeped over her just like that first time, knowing Chloé had won and would never stop, she had lost and lost everything.

Everything she had worked so hard to obtain.

Everything she had worked so hard to keep.

To make sure she didn’t have to let go.

And now it had gone.

Because it was then Marinette realised. That girl, those tears hadn’t been real, there she saw her eyes hadn’t been red or puffy, the tears’ dried up rather quickly, and the inconsistent wails made it very likely she was only doing them for effect and sympathy.

That girl. Was lying!

That must’ve been it.

No way could she be telling the truth. And no way could ‘I saw her around me and Adrien’ be translated to ‘she threatened me, I’m so scared of her’

Maybe, maybe with that, there was hope.

If she could just simply convince her friends that she was lying, then everything would be all sorted.

And maybe she and Adrien-

Wait, she was getting a little ahead of herself there.

Wiping her tears away she proudly opened the door, ready to face her fears.

Too bad her fears were much much stronger.

No matter how many times she would try to prove her innocence, it became worse.

When she tried going to the teachers, they bat an eye with her responses. Obviously not taking her seriously, and just believing it to be some teenage drama, she was pushed out of the classroom and told to try and just be nicer and make friends with her.

That was harsh but expected.

She tried talking with Alya, she turned away from her. Not wanting to hear anything come out of a crazy stalkers mouth.

That had hurt.

She tried talking with any of her other friends, y’know, the ones who ‘always’ had her back.

They too turned from her. Believing Lila without a doubt, I mean, they knew how jealous Marinette could get, it wasn’t that much of a stretch to think she would jump to that, considering the situation.

That felt like a punch to her gut.

She tried talking with Adrien, even if she did stutter and always lose her words around him. But this was more important, than a silly crush.

She wasn’t used to saying that.

But, the way he looked at her, it felt like- pity.

He told her he already knew.

He already knew? Wait- then why didn’t he say anything?

Because, as the naïve little boy stood so tall and ‘innocent’ he simply wanted to help her through his own way.

“She was only lying for attention,” He said.

“Once she finally makes some real friends, she’ll stop,” He said!

“In the meantime, you should really drop this, it would be just awful if you were to hurt Lila again. After all, she hasn’t hurt anyone, she doesn’t mean any harm”

She stood in shock.

This was the boy she had fell for?

This spineless- foolish- Son of a-

“So please Marinette, don’t cause too many problems for her, you shouldn’t be so harsh on her. If you really value our friendship, you’ll do it.” He smiled before walking off, leaving her to her thoughts.

That felt like someone had walked over to her, ripped out her heart and squashed it in the palm of her hands, all while grinning.

Why, why wasn’t she able to see before? Did her heart want to deceive her by falsifying all of his qualities? Was she just blind to bear witness to him not being as perfect as she made him out to be? Was it because she just couldn’t entertain the thought of letting go?

She didn’t know, she just hated this negative feeling. It felt so familiar. She wanted it to go away.

Unfortunately, that feeling would only grow for months.

And it was about to be worse.

“Huh? Marinette? Why are you crying? If this is about what happened this morning, don’t worry, I’ll forgive you” She was crying? Huh, when did that happen?

Whatever, more importantly.

“W-What, no you don’t have to forgive me because I did nothing wrong” Lila’s worried expression faltered for a bit before she grew ‘scared’

“H-Hey, I didn’t realise you felt like that. Oh, you poor thing” Her eyebrow snapped, she seriously didn’t like being called a thing.

“Save it, I can’t prove it but I know you’re just lying to everyone here. And you need to stop, you’re going to hurt everyone when they find out. You need to confess” Her face faltered again, but it never recovered, her once innocent eyes hardened as she smirked, a look that seemed almost natural, as if she had perfected it by looking into a mirror countless times.

“Oh, so you’ve finally figured it out? Figures, I was told you were the smartest one, and it seems like I wasn’t wrong”

“What?” Lila sighed, maybe she had put too much faith in her being the smartest.

“Ugh, you’re so young Marinette. I haven’t told the truth all my life, why the hell should I start now?” Marinette was stunned, why, why was she telling her this?

“Honestly, and I thought Adrien was naïve. Look, I’m not here to play games, I have this whole routine wrapped up. So just sit back, stay out of my way and I might consider making another lie that would benefit you.” It was an offer any reasonable person wouldn’t refuse.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t want a reasonable offer.

Marinette stared, she was- she was fully aware of what she was doing?

“B-But you’re going to end up hurting everyone, you need to stop, please!” She begged.

Lila frowned.

She was just like all the rest.

“I don’t care”

Huh?

“I said I don’t care, seriously don’t you get it yet? I’m here to win by all means necessary. You were in the way so I took you out. They are just little trophies to remind you of my victory. You had your chance”

She stood still, this situation felt so familiar, but she had to stay strong, she couldn’t give up now. If reasoning with her won’t work, then maybe understanding might, and she could work with that.

“Why are you doing this, do you really not care about when you get caught? About how everyone will feel when they know you promised nothing in the end?” She hoped she would see some sense. They were good people, they shouldn’t be manipulated into this, she was sure they would’ve been friends regardless of what she had promised.

“It’s because I can”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean, dear sweet Marinette, is that because I am able to, I can. I’ve had years of practice with this, and the result always has me at the top, all that oppose me either stay at the bottom or beg for mercy from moi. It's always a delight to see their hope diminish. To realise they would do anything but to be alone.”

Alone- that word, that word stuck with her so much.

She didn’t want that- but she didn’t want her friends to be tricked either.

“Besides, you made it so easy for me, in reality. You only have yourself to blame”

“What- I didn’t even-” A finger was wagged in front of her face.

“Ah ah ah. You really should know better than that. A calendar full of Adrien’s schedule? A box full of presents for Adrien? Sabotaging dates? You’d think I’d have made it all up, it only made the end result so much greater. Seriously Marinette, I don’t even know if I’m the bad guy here, what you’ve done really isn’t appropriate behaviour. But I do know of a great therapist, they helped me through such a hard time” Lila continued to talk as Marinette zoned out. She was the bad guy? No- no that couldn’t be, that was just a harmless crush, that was just what normal teenaged girls did.

But- if it was. Then why didn’t anyone tell her it was wrong, she didn’t mean for it to be wrong. She just didn’t want them to leave, she just didn’t want to be abandoned again.

Why didn’t they say? Why didn’t she realise?

Why did she know?

Lila must’ve seen the shock as she giggled, not at all innocent.

“It was so easy manipulating all of them into telling me about this ‘crush’, once they realised just how crazy it actually was, they had no problem seeing you for the crazy stalker you are.” Lila flicked her hair up away, only for it to come back, but it didn’t matter, she made her point.

Not having the energy to look up, she would’ve noticed Lila had left her behind, laughing too, because no one had been there to overhear their absolutely private conversation. Her overall plan would not be undiscovered today, tomorrow, or the next. It wouldn’t be discovered ever.

Because she was in control.

Marinette, wasn’t in control.

Just like before, that hollow feeling from before, it was back.

And so much worse.

She hated Lila, because she made her realise, she was right. All along. And she just had to accept it.

And gave up trying.

She reverted back to how she was at the beginning of the year.

The quiet girl that no one paid attention to, alone, in the back, with nothing but her sketchbook.

Gone were the childish pigtails, it was for the better, no one said anything about then anymore.

Because she realised.

She wasn’t a child anymore.

She couldn’t be, not after this.

***

Hey, so I guess this was more like another prologue, so I’ll have to apologise if it seems just like the other one, but the premise is still the same so yeah.

And I think I might like the idea of a non-Miraculous world; it seems interesting since I feel like Marinette wouldn’t have as much of a confidence boost since she wouldn’t be Ladybug, please tell me that would make sense.

I think it’s interesting for how much would change and stay the same, and my OC will be making an entrance next time, however, here they are all like 13-14. The next chapter will have a time skip of 3 years, oh and Lila came in late, like around Season 3 late ok? So they already know about Kagami and Luka.

Also if you’re confused about anything feel free to ask any questions.

Cya next time.

Note: Please tell me if I should add anything else to the card, there will be one of these cards for all 15 chapters, however, because I have uni work all updates will be slower because I really need to focus on the uni stuff, then I might be able to upload quicker.

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star-whores-a-new-hoe · 4 years

Text

One Shot: Break the Ice//Anakin X Reader

Summary: After you’ve been particularly cold towards Anakin during a senatorial party, he decides to remind you who’s in charge.

Warnings: Some sensory shit cause Anakin uses ice on the reader, can’t stress this enough READER IS TEASED WITH ICE, dom/sub, soft dom Ani, some begging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, typos and bad writing, I’m tired y’all!

A/N: I wrote this based of an Anakin gif and Britney Spears song in about two days so sorry if it’s crap! Love y'all and hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2.2K

You sat impatiently near a few other senators, the room filled with the Lively sounds of shallow conversation and the clinking of glasses. You drummed your fingers lightly against your knee, trying not to let your utter boredom show in your expression. With a sigh, you turned your gaze to the clock, counting down the minutes till you could flee back to the refuge of your apartment and the arms of your Anakin.

“Greetings senator.” Said a familiar voice from behind you. Before you even acknowledged his presence, you scanned the room for signs of any watchful Jedi, any senators that would be on the lookout for gossip, any droids that might repeat snippets of conversations. Any threats.

“Hello general Skywalker.” You replied, a coolness creeping its way into your voice. You turned in your seat to face your lover, attempting to appear as disinterested as possible. His eyes meet yours, searching for an answer to your strange behavior.

“Enjoying the party?”

“Oh immensely.” You lied.

“Really? Because you seem a little…” He paused, trying to find the right words.

You lowered your voice slightly so as to not run the risk of being overheard. “Well there are just so many people here. I’d hate for anyone to see a senator talking to a Jedi and get the wrong impression.” He looked at you with a bemused expression, eyebrows slightly raised and a cocky smile gracing his lips.

“I see.” The two of you fell silent, letting the sounds of the party fill the tension.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat as you stood. “I must be going.” You picked up your drink and started to move across the room.

“Senator.” Anakin said quietly in a way of farewell, watching as you walked away.

“General.”

***

You pushed yourself through the door of the apartment with an exhausted groan. Closing your eyes, you rested your back against the doorway as you slipped off your shoes.

“Hello?” Anakin’s voice echoed through the hallway as he came to greet you. He appeared before you, looking so enticing and safe, you practically sighed at the sight of him.

“Hi baby.” You walked towards him and wrapped yourself in his embrace, reveling in it after such a long day.

“Oh I’m ‘baby’ now? I thought it was ‘General Skywalker’?” You rested your forehead on his shoulder, mentally cursing your earlier dismissiveness.

“I’m sorry about that Ani, there were just so many people there, I didt want to look suspicious so I thought it was best to act slightly-“

“Cold?” He suggested. You nodded into his shoulder.

“Yeah, cold.” You nuzzled your nose into the warm skin of his neck. “ I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok sweetheart,” He said as he placed his chin on top of your head. “I understand.” You let out an exhale of relief that you didn’t even realize you’d been holding in. “Although,” He added “I’m not sure that you’ve 100% learned your lesson.” You pulled back from him with a puzzled expression.

“My lesson?” He nodded as he stroked your cheek with his gloved hand, sweeping it across the smooth skin with the lightest of touches. Anakin looked down at you with powerful, lust filled eyes that sent shivers of anticipation throughout your body, the scar across his eye further heightening his effect on you.

“I need to grab something real quick, I’m going to come back in a minute and I want to see you waiting for me on the bed.” He pulled away from you, leaving you feeling slightly empty. As he turned his back from you and walked away he called over his shoulder. “And clothes off!”

With a newly lit excitement coursing through your veins, you practically ran to the bedroom. Quickly, you stripped yourself of your tiresome senatorial wear and under garments before jumping onto the bed, sprawling yourself out among the pillows while you awaited Anakin’s return.

Anakin entered the room, a glass full of ice cubes rested in his hand. He looked down at you as he walked around the bed, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed body. He placed the cup down before seating himself on the edge of the bed. He absentmindedly grabbed an ice cube from the cup, rubbing it between two of his flesh fingers, letting it begin to melt, the cool water dripping down his hand.

“What, um, do you have in mind exactly?” You asked, although you were almost certain of his plans.

“Well,” He said as he thought of all the things he could do to you. “Since you decided to be so cold towards me today, I thought that the punishment should fit the crime.” With that, he delicately placed the ice cube on the side of your neck, you squirmed away from the biting cold.

“Ani!” You yelped.

“Who?”

“General Skywalker,” You whined. “it’s so cold!”

“Well that’s the whole point! It wouldn’t be much of a lesson otherwise.” With his gloved hand he once again cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “Now hold still and take it like a good girl.”

With a small whimper, you complied. He slowly trailed the ice cube down your hot pulse point and across your collarbone, leaving a shining trail atop your skin in its wake. You bit your lip, trying hard to keep in your complaints of the nipping cold, but despite the uncomfortableness of it all, you began to feel a different type of wetness pool between your legs.

Your breathing became heavy as Anakin traced the underside of your breast with his cold crystal. With impatient eyes you watched his hands work, drifting over your tits. You let out a high pitched whine as he brushed over your nipples.

“I know baby, you're doing good for me.” He said soothingly, teasing your breasts till your nipples were stiff peaks and your skin felt down right frozen. When Anakin was satisfied and your tits all but soaked from the cube, he drifted lower, swiping the almost melted ice across your stomach. The cube finally liquified, The melted ice and your sweat combining to cover your body in a sparkling sheen. “You look so pretty like that baby.” He told you, leaning over to grab another ice cube from the cup.

“Please An-General.” You corrected yourself. “I’ve learned my lesson, I promise.” You looked up at him with pleading, desperate eyes, unsure of how long you could endure his torture.

Without a word, he pushed your legs apart before taking the new ice cube swirling it over the soft flesh of your inner thighs. “No.”

You cried out in frustration, the cold being so intense that it was almost hot. Between your begging and pleading you watched as Ani brought the nipping cold closer and closer to your warm, dripping center.

“General, please! I’ve been such a good girl for you! Please!” But he was deaf to your pleas as he placed the ice cube directly on your aching clit. You opened your mouth in a silent scream. Your body was beginning to shake slightly with shivers from the cold. The ice sitting atop your cunt felt like it was relentlessly biting into your hot flesh. The melted ice dripped off your body, soaking the sheets beneath you as you squirmed away from Ani’s touch. The contrast between the warmth of your pussy and the cool ice was maddening.

“Oh stars, what if I get hypothermia or something?”

Ani laughed down at you. “You’ll be alright sweetheart, it’s almost melted anyways.”

You turned your head to look him up and down. You took in the way his hair had fallen into his face, how his jedi robes clung to his toned body, and the very prominent tent forming between his legs.

As the last bit of the cube melted away, relief flooded your senses. Anakin rubbed his hands up and down your sides as you shivered, a feeble attempt to expel the icy cold from your skin. He moved so that he was over top of you and began to press warm kisses down the path the ice had traveled meer moments before.

“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He murmured against you. With timid hands, you tangled your fingers in his soft locks.

“Ok, ok, I think I learned my lesson, force I’m freezing!”

“Don’t worry baby,” You could feel his smirk against you. “I’ll warm you up.” With that, he pulled himself away from you, stripping himself of clothing as fast as humanly possible. You sat up and helped him discard his attire, running your hands over the broad expanse of his chest before bribing them down to massage his growing bulge.

He brought his face down to yours, crashing his lips into you with fierce passion. Your mouths moved together in a devilish dance of tongue and teeth, desperate to taste each other. You pulled away from him reluctantly when the need for air grew too much.

“Make me warm General skywalker.” He let out a lust filled groan before crashing his lips back into yours as he reached a hand down between your legs, tracing his fingers through your dripping folds. You moaned at his touches, his warm fingers against your still slightly cold cunt had your head spinning.

“You like that sweetheart?” He asked as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, the drag against your inner walls extracting all sorts of noises from you. “Won’t be ignoring me again any time soon, hmm?”

“N-no I won’t,” You reassured him. “please General, I need you, need your big cock inside of me!” You cried out in pleasure as he curled his fingers inside of your, hitting that toe curling spot of yours. On impulse, you yanked on his soft curls where your fingers rested, extracting a deep groan from your jedi.

“You want my cock baby?” He asked. You nodded frantically, feeling heat finally begin to rise up to your face. “Well,” He said with a chuckle. “How could I say no to that face?” Anakin moved to be in between your legs, running his hands up and down over your goosebumps on your arms in a soothing manner. He brought his hand down to place himself at your entrance, swirling his tip over your sensitive clit, teasing you cruelly. Slowly, he began to enter you, the two of your groaning in unison at the sensation. He was torturously slow, letting you feel every inch of his dick pleasurably stretch you out.

“Ani.” You whimpered when he was completely submerged in your soaking pussy. In a heartbeat, he pulled out, leaving just his tip inside of you.

“I thought we went over this?”

“General! Please, please fuck me!” With that he set a relentless pace, pounding into you, taking your breath away with every thrust. Your head grew fuzzy as he fucked you, the fast, brutal pace and the drag of his dick building up an indescribable pleasure in your core, your pussy starting to clench around his length. You wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to be as close to him as you possibly could. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, letting it drive him into a lust led frenzy.

As you felt your inpending orgasam grow closer and closer, you snaked your hand inbetween your bodys to massage your swollen clit.

“You close sweetheart? Can feel that sweet little pussy clenching around my cock.” You moan unabashedly at his words. You grew closer and closer to the edge, a tight coil of hot pleasure threatening to explode within you, his grunts and groans in your ear only spurring you on.

“P-please I’m so close!”

Anakin could feel himself growing closer to the edge as well, knowing that all he needed was your undoing to finally send him over the edge. “Cum for me sweetheart, come all over my cock.”

You fell with a scream into a body shaking, back arching off the bed, breath taking orgasm. It was all you could do to cling to Anakin as pleasure enveloped your body every inch of your body, your vision going dim from the intensity. Anakin continued to fuck you through, chasing his own high as you recovered your breath.

His cock was twitching inside you, his thrusts becoming harsh and sloppy, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. “Wh-where do you want it?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Inside!” You cried out. with that he spilled his hot seed inside you, coating your inner walls with a guttural moan. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, basking in the glow of each other as you steadied your breathing. Anakin attempted to remove himself from you to go clean the two of you up but you quickly pulled him back down on top of you. “I’m still a little chilly.” You murmured with your face squished against his strong bicep. He let out a deep laugh that made your heart flutter. “Think I’m just gonna use you as a human blanket for a while.”

“I’ve got you baby, I won’t be going anywhere.”

You let out a content sigh at the feeling of being in his arms. “I love you, General.”

“I love you too, Senator.”

Tagging: @anakinswhore @princessxkenobi @basicanti-socialb-tch @paigeskywalker

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gojomaki · 3 years

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infatuated [fem!readerxgojo]

warning: unedited; typos and gramatical error (eng is not my first language) cringe

genre: angst thingy?¿? fluff

note: i just srsly typed this at 3 am so idk, my first post here and im still not use in using third POV, anyways

“you're really just infatuated," mei mei rolled her eyes at you while you two are walking back to the newly built dorm where the tokyo and the kyoto teachers camp in to rest, after exorcising two first grade curses. a bit tired and hurt, because they turned out to be o par to special grades. you have many bruises and you’re a mess with your torn clothes and bloody skin.

"well unfortunately, im not." you heaved a breath walking a little more slow, you don’t even know why you love that man so much even tho you two are clearly not compatible.

"come on lover girl, get on your feet and walk fast! damn it, they gave us an unreliable source and they even have the audacity to make us walk!" she complained walking too fast as if she’s not tired, and tha’ts when a car came rushing from your backs.

"oh mei mei you're walking!" a very familiar voice said, because you're a little too tired and walked very slow, you are not seen from where they stopped, so you also stopped walking and tried to remove your presence.

you lifted your head only to see that gojo dragged mei mei into the car and as usual they are arguing and mei mei totally forgot you are with her because of gojo's teasing, the car left. they left you, he left you. you bet your life that he knows you are there but didn’t bothered getting you. because that’s how the things between you worked; you ignore him and he ignore you too.

you couldn’t blame him, you were just transferred here in japan after staying overseas exorcising curses and you two are just seeing each other when needed; meetings and emergencies, no time to get to know each other, not that you want to talk to him one on one.

you stared deeply on the road they took, feeling your chest ache and hot tears beginning to form in your eyes, you turned back, forgetting your tiredness you left the lonely road and took the way towards the little apartment that you bought that is not too far away, not bothering to come to the dorm and report because you know mei mei will do that as she is assigned one to do that.

"took you faster than i expected." your eyes widened when you saw gojo seating comfortably in your couch watching some cartoons in you tv, "why are you just standing there? come here and join me," he said with eyes not leaving the whatever is playing in the tv.

who will be able to move and speak a word if you are already crying too much; not only because of the pain you are feeling in your chest but now also from the wounds you got.

"i hate y-you, i h-hate you, i hate you, " you repeatedly chanted before you felt him wrapping his arms around you after he closed the door you left open, "jerk, i hate you, you're such a jerk leaving me there even though you already saw me tired and covered in bruises, i hate you, i hate—" you stopped talking when you felt his lips against yours, his tongue swiping between your dry lips, and after a few seconds he let go of your lips, satisfied by how your lips turned glossy.

"hmm, so you know how to talk, how about talking to me whenever you see me and not ignoring me? you always ignore me to the point that you didn’t noticed how much i like you too? and please sugar, blame mei mei—"

"WHY ME!?" you were startled when you heard mei mei,you turned to the direction of her voice; now seeing her sitting on your kitchen top.

"hey! you’re the one who suggested this even though i told you she looks tired!" gojo hugged you bringing his face to the crook of your neck, and that is when you felt yourself back.

"wait, what’s happening, why are you here too? and why.. why are you here gojo?"

"hmm, like what i said sugar," he removed his face from your neck before wiping your eyes.

"i like— no i love you and i’m here because mei mei made this up, blame her, and please stop crying...." he kissed your eyes before carrying you towards your room, “i think you need to clean up,”

"wait gojo! wait!" you shrieked but he already secured you in his arms.

"cringey lovers, kissing and flirting infront me," mei mei complained but smiled when she heard you crying again,

"crybaby."

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsukaisen #gojosatoru #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #anime

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byamylaurens · 3 years

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On Structuring Plot: A List Of Useful Resources + My Recent Process

I was asked on Instagram last week how I go about structuring my stories, whether there’s a set way I like to do it, or if it’s different for every story, or what. I promised an answer last week, and that didn’t happen, but hey! It is this week and now I can answer! 😀

The truth of the matter is, I feel very self-conscious about plot structure. It’s the area of writing I’m least comfortable with, and so my attempts either end up with me just writing and ignoring structure entirely (A Fox Of Storms And Starlight), or else plotting everything else in meticulous detail, usually with the help of Liana Brooks (How Not To Acquire A Castle, as evidenced in our epic plotting video).

And then there is everything else, which tends to fall in the middle. Honestly, it depends on the book, and the mood, and how much of a concrete, specific handle I need on the story before going in.

Because that varies widely, too. When Worlds Collide, the final book in the Sanctuary trilogy that won Best Children’s Book 2019 in my state? You’re reading the first draft, prettied up with some proofreading for typos. The first book in the series, on the other hand? That’s the …eighth, I think, draft? And again, everything else falls somewhere in the middle, though generally speaking I plan my novels more than my short stories, and things that feel “fast paced” more than things that luxuriate more in the prose. Though even that’s not entirely true. And it overlaps with the length tendencies.

SO. Rather than continuing to ramble about my actual processes (variable), I thought I’d share with you a range of resources that you might find useful (if you’re a writer) or simply interesting (if you’re not, or even if you are I guess).

1. Liana Brooks’ Outlining Sheet

Liana, who you probably know is my writer-buddy and co-conspirator with regards to Inkprint Press, is excellent at plot. She does developmental edits for a really reasonable rate, and is absolutely stellar at what she does. So it’s without shame that I recommend first up her outline sheet, which is a take on the Lester Dent Plot Formula (google it).

2. Beat Sheets.

For when a general outline with key touch points isn’t detailed enough, there are beat sheets. The best ones I’ve found came from Jami Gold, and you can download them here. I’ve also converted them to word docs with scenes numbered for a 40-scene/chapter book and a 20 scene-chapter book, and you can grab those here (word docx download).

3. MICE Structure.

I posted this video on Friday, but Mary Robinette Kowal’s MICE theory has been hands down THE most useful plotting resource I’ve encountered for me personally. I’ll elaborate on this a little more below, where I’ll talk specifically about a project I’m working on right now.

4. Brandon Sanderson’s Plot Lectures.

I listened to these nearly a year ago, then relistened recently and was interested to discover I’d done something similar with Moon Shot, the project I’m currently plotting. Definitely worth a listen. It’s a little more general in scope than the preceding resources, but very necessary for a sound understanding of what your plot should be DOING.

You can also check out the posts I wrote on plot structure years ago, starting here.

Okay, now to the specifics. On Tuesday, I posted the following to Instagram, which is what precipitated the question that resulted in this post:

This is me working on Moon Shot, and it’s the first time I really used the MICE process on a longer work very deliberately, and I LOVED IT.

So I thought I’d quickly delineate for you here exactly what I did. (ETA: Quickly, ha.)

Worldbuilding. I had a giant conversation with Liana about the worldbuilding for the world, and how the main sci fi element works. She took notes and emailed them to me.

Brain Dump. I did a stream-of-consciousness dump into my notes just rambling through things roughly sequentially, and stopping to research the sciencey stuff I needed.

List Of Questions. From this, I listed out on my small whiteboard (A4-ish size) all the questions that would be asked and answered in this book. Will they escape? Why can’t they go to Earth? Who are the kidnappers? Etc.

MICE. I then colour-coded each question according to it’s MICE category: milieu, inquiry, character, event. If that doesn’t make sense, go watch Kowal’s video first (resource 3 above).

General Plotting. I broke out the bigger whiteboard (A2 size?), separated it roughly into quarters across the ‘page’, and added every question to the board. Some questions are asked right at the start of the story, so that’s where their coloured line started, then I estimated roughly when the question would be answered in-plot, and ended their coloured line there. This was hands-down the most useful part of plotting, because it let me see a bunch of things in macro: I’d overloaded the third quarter with too many answers, and there wasn’t enough in the second quarter. Certain questions COULDN’T be asked until other ones were answered, and if I left the answering too late, the next arc would be too squished before the end of the book. And so forth. So I played around, adjusting arcs until I got a fairly even spread of questions and answers across the book, with little clusters at the 1/4, 1/2 and 3/4 marks. I also looked to make sure that I had enough strong questions asked in the beginning that weren’t answered until the very end.

Specific Plotting. For each arc, I now knew WHEN in the book it had to be. So I grabbed three A3 pages, taped them together in a long line, divided the page into 25 columns (see point 8 for why), and wrote headings with the basic beats of a story. Call to action, midpoint, final puzzle piece, act 2 antagonist, and so forth. See resource 2 above. Then I took my MICE arcs and started filling things in: this scene needs to answer this question and raise the next one. This scene needs to answer this question. That sort of thing. Not the specifics of what the characters are doing, but the underlying bones of what the SCENE needs to be doing.

Conflict! Once the beginnings and ends of each MICE arc were in place, I referred back to the MICE principle to figure out what kinds of conflict I needed to add. For example, one of the opening MICE arcs is a milieu question: How did the kids escape? Knowing that this is a milieu, I know I need to add points throughout the story where they run into dead ends in their attempts to escape, all the way until they actually make it out. Another MICE arc revolves around a mystery, so I knew I needed to throw red herrings and misleading information in there to influence the decisions the characters are making. I used different coloured highlighter to mark the main long-running arcs to make sure I was sprinkling them evenly throughout the book, and not accidentally ignoring one for too long.

Point Of View. I now had a really good idea of what was happening in each scene, so on to POV. Most books wouldn’t need this step necessarily, but part of the POINT of this book is that it has POV scenes from all 25 of my Year 8 students from a couple of years ago (you have not LIVED until you’ve tried this, oy, my head). AND on top of that, every character has one of eight different superpowers. So I wrote out all the character names on sticky notes, colour coded according to superpower. Then I played around. Which superpower would be useful in this scene? Which would lend an interesting lens to the events? Post-its meant I could test things and swap them around easily, until I got an order I was happy with, with the superpowers kind of evenly sprinkled throughout the book (as much as possible; they’re based on Myer-Briggs personality type, which, yes, most of the students were kind enough to do the test for me so I could allocate their powers accurately, HA, but it means some superpowers are more common than others).

Text Type. One of the only ways I could think of making this book hang together cohesively was to tell it via epistolary, which means including a bunch of other text types as well as narration (or instead of). So there are story bits, but also emails, letters, maps, interviews, transcripts and more. So once I had everything else in place, I figured out which scenes were going to be which text types so that again, there was a balance of them throughout.

PHEW. What a process. Still, overall it only took me about three hours, and it was SUPER FUN AND SATISFYING to do. I’ll DEFINITELY be doing at least steps 1 – 7 for a couple of future books, because it was just a really inherently enjoyable process for me, and makes me confident going into the book that the scenes will do what they need to do.

Here’s a sneaky peek at what some of the final outline looks like… 😀

On Structuring Plot: A List Of Useful Resources + My Recent Process was originally published on Amy Laurens

#Amy Laurens #Australian author Amy #beat sheets for writers #before you write #Brandon Sanderson #Canberra writer Amy #how to plot a novel #How to Write #Jami Gold&039;s beat sheets #Mary Robinette Kowal #plot plot plot the book #plotting masterclass #structuring stories with story structure like a well-structured story with structure #writing #writing resource #writing workshop #you too can write a story woo

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harritudur · 3 years

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rpf • amita suman/freddy carter • 1220 words • rating g

notes: the following words are for fun and these are all lies. i own nothing and no one. it’s a real person fic, and if it is not your cup of tea, that’s fine! FEEL FREE TO IGNORE ME OR TO BLOCK ME —and i’m not english sepaker, sorry for any typo/misspelling ♡

•

(february 2020)

This weekend, they had the two days off.

No filming, no rehearsals, no production meeting, nothing, just holed up in their hotel in Budapest, cable box, TV, and a ton of junk food. Half of the cast decided to go to some jazz Club in the Hungarian capital for this Sunday night, the other half staying at the hotel to have their 8 hours of rest, and this was when Freddy suggested watching Lawrence of Arabia.

Jessie gives up after one hour and goes to her room. Sujaya does the same ten minutes after. Now, in front of the screen, Amita and Freddy are the only remaining awakened souls: Amita, for she shamefully admitted to have never watched the so-called masterpiece, and Freddy, for the simple fact this is one of his favourite movies ever.

“You know what?,” Amita says without taking her eyes off Omar Shariff, “after two hours, I notice I didn’t hear the voice of one single woman in this movie.”

Freddy snorts because she’s right. “Yeah, yeah, I mean the homoerotic subtext is clear.”

She laughs and he enjoys being the reason of it.

The rest of the watching goes on in silence. They are both sitting on a couch, in simple clothes, t-shirts and sweatpants, barefoot, the remote and a six pack of beers with a torn open box of choco Jacob’s biscuits between them. And it’s comfortable and nice, despite Amita making fun every scene of the bad makeup or bad stunts, and Freddy almost throws a pillow at her for her lack of respect for the great Peter O’Toole —or despite the time Freddy burps (oddly elegantly) as he lifts the beer bottle to his lips and takes a swig with a wink, and Amita grunts as typing something on her phone.

“Okay, the music is nice but, can you change the channel now?”

“No. I like this movie.”

“It’s a stupid movie, Freddy.”

The actor rolls his eyes. “No it’s not. So now, please, can you be quiet? Here comes my favourite moment.”

He takes another swig of his second beer before putting the bottle down, and at the exact same moment, Amita reaches over the remote… yet, she doesn’t have her character’s celerity. Freddy bats her hand away quickly, but she ignores the move as fast and decides to grab the remote again with her two hands this time. In vain.

“Stop it!” Freddy shouts with an unconvinced tone of complaint in his voice.

The remote now in his right hand out of reach, the actor tries to block all Amita’s attacks with his left one, and after ten seconds of uneven combat, she almost succeeds to win —but Freddy’s hand connects through her t-shirt with her ribs, fingertips sliding down the length of her side in an attempt of escape, a light and quick touch, and—

“Did you just giggle?”

She blinks, dead serious. “No.”

Slowly, Freddy’s mouth twitches like he’s going to laugh, or mock, or something wicked —and in the span of a second, he starts to grin and pushes Amita back on the couch.

“ ‘the fuck, Freddy!” she smacks him on the shoulder and instead of it turning into an all out slapping fight, Freddy’s fingers begin wiggling. Before they know it, they’re having a damn tickling fight of all things.

He is taller and stronger, and Amita is quickly losing herself in her cackles. He somehow manages to keep her at a safe distance with one hand, his other one brushing her ribs and making her giggle even more. She never stands a chance.

“Do you surrender?” Freddy asks, and he’s laughing like a friggin’ jackass. Amita follows with an even bigger laugh, half trapped beneath him.

“Never!” she grunts between shallow breaths.

Freddy watches in amusement as she is contorting on herself protecting her left side, but there is another undefended one… Amita gasps out and flails inelegantly, laughing spilling from her lips like a waterfall the moment his hand finds her right ribs once more.

The sound is light, graceful, eerie and contagious, and Freddy loves it. Beautiful, he thinks.

She takes a deep breath between fits of laughter, mouth working independently of her brain, and tries to clamp it shut without giggling, because uh, she is no more a teen —she is a grown woman in a production of several millions that’s not having a tickle fight with her (charming) co-star —bloody hell!

Grabbing her two hands, Freddy presses them by her head into the couch. During a few more seconds Amita chuckles, fighting to maintain her composure, trying to get her hands free, but eventually ceases to move when she realizes his wiggling fingers are now locked and still around her wrists.

She looks up through tears of laughter and finds two piercing blue eyes observing her. Freddy has a fond, bright smile on his face, messy strands of dark hair all around, cheeks pinked because of the loss of air and the two beers he drank, and the young woman is stunned by how close his body is to hers.

Too close, a tiny part of her mind says.

Not close enough, says a bigger part.

“Fred…” she starts, softly, and something lights up in Freddy’s eyes at the nickname. “Huh, my hands please?”

His faint scent of soap and beer wafts around them and his hands squeeze her wrists tighter for a microsecond before letting go.

“Sorry,” Freddy says and immediately moves to sit back on his previous spot.

“It’s okay! I mean… I should be the one to apologize,” Amita starts, straightening herself on the couch, and tilts her head in her colleague’s direction. “I made you miss your favorite moment and the credits are already rolling. Peter and Omar kiss at some point, right?”

The fact that she is able to make a joke so quickly after what just -almost?- happened makes a tense part of Freddy relax completely. He snorts a laugh and turns his face to look at her and her wide grin. It’s all resolved it seems, yet his mind is still a blur (for the beers, of course! —definitely not for her smile).

“C’mon. Let’s grab some food,” she suggests and stands up. “We drank enough. Now time to eat!”

Tomorrow, the whole cast will be back on set and Freddy realizes that it could be the last time he has Amita just to himself. He mutters something unintelligible and looks up at the actress from his spot: she is pulling a vest over her t-shirt that immediately makes her look chic and elegant. And beautiful.

“Sure, why not?” he says as he puts on a pair of old sneakers. “I saw London Fish & Chips on their menu. It could be very fun to try it and to criticise how bad the Hungarian version tastes!”

Amita laughs once more and Freddy is again proud of making her do so.

“Brilliant idea. Fish & Chips at 1:00 am is one of my favourite hobbies!”

After putting a semblance of order in his hair and checking his phone, Freddy joins Amita’s side to offer his arm, which she takes without hesitation. They make their way to the door and leave the room to join the elevator, the restaurant being on the ground floor.

A great movie. Beers and dinner. Pleasant company for the night… and none would admit it, but it had been a very long time since any of them had laughed like that. Like two kids, without inhibition.

They exchange a look as the elevator doors open, and blue meets black.

Yes, this is a nice weekend.

•

end

•

#amita suman #freddy carter #shadow and bone #PLEASE DON'T GET MAD #IT IS CUTE AND NOTHING MORE #JUST IGNORE ME P L E A S E #there won't be sequel #..........i think???#rpf #real person fiction #(( i need a tag for them #and by them i mean amita & freddy ))

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falsegoodnight · 3 years

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hi! not sure if you’ve ever talked about this before, but do you have a specific writing process you follow when you write fics?? i’d love to hear about it if you do :)) love your fics so much!!! (p.s. feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to/don’t feel comfortable talking about it!)

hiiii! first of all, i’m really glad you like my fics! thank you for reading them :) and for my writing process: i think i have talked about it a couple times but i do plan on making a thorough and detailed post describing my writing process but i’m lazy so it keeps getting put off! for now, i’m copy & posting what i said for an old ask where i split it into stages and described how long each one took (+ new notes!!)

(under the cut because i ramble)

1) idea/brainstorm

i tend to get ideas from other subject matter such as books, tv shows, movies, music, etcetera just like most people but i also get a lot of fic ideas in dreams. those actually tend to be the best ones, in my opinion. and once i get an idea and it won’t leave my brain for a bit, i open up a notebook page or my notes app and write down everything i can about it (the general gist, anything specific i dreamt/wanted, etc). sometimes i’ll even write out a scene if i can’t stop thinking about it. in fact, i’ve based an entire fic around one written scene more than once in the past.

if i’m super excited, i usually end up blurting out the idea to a friend and there’s just something about explaining an idea to someone else that has you fleshing it out and building upon it and then suddenly you’re even more excited than before--

2) outlining

this actually tends to be a relatively quick stage for me! for the most part, once i get an idea and i get inspired, the story just comes together! there may be gaps but i don’t worry about them yet - i just start my character profiles and a scene list! my outlines tend to be pretty detailed but they can range from around 1k to up to 5k depending on the complexity of the story, characters, and whether any worldbuilding needs to be done. and every story is different - some i just have fleshed out in my head already so i don’t need to work it out on paper (or, on screen, i guess) and others i need to plan out every last detail or else my brain gets too muddled trying to sort everything out. and in my experience: the longer the outline, the longer the fic.

i’d say typically this takes around a couple hours (for the basic outline) but i always come back to my outline frequently even when drafting, changing and tweaking things or adding/cutting things. outlines are fluid! they’re meant to change and alter with new ideas and different directions :)

[edit: i’m just quickly going to add a:

3.5) research

this isn’t for every fic but sometimes a story i want to write involves something i don’t have a lot of knowledge/experience for and so i always make sure to research the topic as best as i can in order to portray it as accurately as possible. of course, this is fanfiction and no one is going to grade you on how credible everything is (and they shouldn’t!! this is all for fun!!) but i personally really enjoy the research aspect of writing and getting to learn about things i normally wouldn’t ever get the chance to. i’m currently writing a fic that’s required so much research (i have pages of notes; it’s ridiculous) and i’ve been having a lot of fun with it!! i also want to make a post about this but the main thing i try to do is find experts, whether that be from expert sources or from experts themselves on platforms such as youtube, specific websites, or even reddit and quora. the best way to learn is to learn from someone else who knows it well]

3) drafting

as expected, this stage definitely takes the longest. i’d say my average for writing days (as in, only counting days where i write) is around 2-3k or maybe 4k. on a really good day, i can write 6-8k (edit: haven’t done that in a hot second haha). the biggest streak i’ve had was when i wrote 40k in 4 days (ie: before we knew, which i posted the same day i finished, of course) but that is very uncommon, obviously.

so it all depends on the length of the fic and the type of story for how long drafting takes but i’d say majority of my fics were written either in a week (these are the shorter ones, just to clarify) or in a few weeks depending on length. one of my 50k+ fics was written in exactly 25 days (that sounds a bit like Nanawrimo but it was october) and then on the other hand, a fic that ended up at 30k-ish took me months to write - part of that was just that i wasn’t prioritizing it, but i also just struggled a lot with it.

(edit: so just to elaborate a bit more with challenges that are typically faced in this stage - there’ll be times where i get stuck on a scene or lose motivation and then i typically jump around and move to a different scene that i feel more excited about. that’s what’s so helpful with outlines: they let me switch between different points of the story without getting everything jumbled or creating hordes of plot holes and inconsistencies. for more on things i do to help me write more, i answered this ask a while ago. also if i get stuck plot-wise, then i often consult a fellow writing friend or go back to my outline to work it out)

4) beta stage

i have two very lovely people who beta for me: @soldouthaz and my friend chelsea who does not have a tumblr :( (edit: she does now!! @kittenlouis :D) i’d say they’re both pretty fast, finishing in a couple days when i need them to! but again, it depends on the fic/length/other circumstances. they’re really good at catching my embarrassing typos and giving me feedback when i ask (edit: i tend to leave questions in the form of comments on google docs if i want specific input or feedback and it’s really helpful)

honestly i really don’t reread/revise my own work (i actually sort of did for my second blff though since i had the extra time so we’ll see if it pays off!) (edit: i think it did!) but when i go through the edits from sarah and chelsea, i do typically end up skimming scenes and making changes that i deem necessary. i do highly suggest self-editing to anyone else though because it only ever makes the story better, never hurts it. i need to get better at it myself.

i hope this gives you some sort of idea of my writing process even though it’s sort of a mess. feel free to ask more questions if you want me to extrapolate/elaborate anything. i wish you all the best!

#asks #writing advice #my writing tips #writing

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chaotically-cas · 3 years

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Tombstone spoilers

- - -

Oh my god. This is my raw reaction (I’m posting in the morning) to finishing Tombstone at 3:30 am. I finished it less than a minute ago. I’m in shock. I’m still crying oh my god. Literally crying.

I did not expect to enjoy a western cowboy movie that fucking much???? But I did??? I don’t even know where to start. I’m not sure if the acting from Wyatt Earp’s actor was good or bad. I genuinely can’t tell. But I thought that Val Kilmer fucking carried that movie dear lord is he so beyond talented oh my god. He is so good in these kinds of roles (Jim Morrison) I swear I literally got goosebumps so so many times. I think he is an incredibly underrated actor & that movie is excited why. Jesus fuck he was incredible it felt so real. It was one of the best performances I’ve seen on that type of role from anyone I can’t. The acting overall was for the most part down right magnificent.

The absolute heart wrenching showing of tuberculosis too omg. Especially in lines as small as ‘forgive me if I don’t shake hands’ to his beautifully the makeup department & Val did with showing how physical the disease was. I’m not sure what else to complement besides the fact that ‘the dying man’ is such a common character but I don’t think you can really do much better at all in this case. Top marks.

& the way it was filmed & the shots were so beautiful. It was so timely & cinematic oh my god I can’t describe it. They used close up shots & far away shots both so beautifully & in such a meaningful way I wanna give the director I high five man.

Jesus even Johnny Ringo’s character was absolutely perfect. I don’t remember the actors name off the top of my head but he is absolutely brilliant as well as the rest of the cast. Including Russell who practically directed the entire thing. Jeez I think he was incredible in that role. Even Ike was a fantastic character I’m sorry but I can’t lie.

I could talk about the scene where Johnny Ringo & Doc Holliday first met forever I think. Not only did they but probably two of the best actors in the movie the same room together. But it’s probably one of the most well known scenes too. Just the belligerence & the absolute wit between the both of them, especially Holliday, is mesmerizing. I love the way he turns to his girlfriend & talks to himself over whether the fact he should hate him or not. & he ends up deciding to hate him because he reminds him of himself. Which is again brought up so fucking incredibly later on in the movie. I think it’s amazing they didn’t let that aspect of their characters fall though. I think that scene is just magnificent. The way Doc is so sly & coy with a simple shot glass. Just the way the own shots are mocking themselves as well as the characters in a way is just. God. It’s unmatched. & the way they bring back the ‘he’s drunk’ later in the movie too as such a juxtaposition is just. Shit man. It’s beyond brilliant.

The scene where they all were at a draw & then Doc just winks. & you can see the other actors face go from fear to anger. & then wyatt realizes. Good it’s just a greatly filmed & directed scene everything about it is perfect from the reactions to the shots.

Now. Here is where I might be getting a bit controversial. This movie is gay. It’s fucking gay.

It’s a love story between Earp & Holliday. I said it. From the very very beginning when they first see each other again I could tell that Holliday was pining, he was crushing. & Wyatt was too except he didn’t know it. It was in the ways he cared for his well being & if he needed anything. They both just supported each other & were such good friends throughout it all even in the small things. But the big gestures is where it gets me.

The first being the multiple times Holliday stood up & actually took a deadly fight for Earp. All whole literally dying himself. He was literally willing to do fucking anything for him he was in love idc. & the second being the scene where he is saying goodbye oh my god. & Earp gives him the fucking book ‘my friend Doc Holliday’ oh my god. That’s when I started crying. Cause it was Doc saying that if Wyatt really loved him he would have to let him go & be happy. & then he died clutching the little book his best friend gave him omg. I cried. & of course Wyatt had to fulfill his best friends last wish. That killed me.

There was even a deleted scene between Doc & his girl where she is asking him why he is leaving again. & she is like ‘it’s Wyatt, isn’t it? It’s always Wyatt’ or something to that effect. & dear god I wish that scene was included because it only further shows how close they were. Both did & his girl also went to the lengths of pushing at the fact that he could & wouldn’t mind dying from him. I just think that’s interesting. He literally would do anything for his friend & his girl knows it (as she called herself.)

But what strikes me most is both times Wyatt was walking away from Doc, thinking he would never see him again, he give him something. Like pretty important too. Idk it really got me in my feels & I’m kind of glad it was so subtextual as well as implied through the clearly more than friendly gestures. I don’t think they could have portrayed the fact that they were so sadly in love any better. In my opinion. God I cannot it’s so sad. & the fact that they stayed by each other. The. Whole. Time. Through literally everything. I can’t describe it. They deserved better but at the same time it was so perfectly heartbreaking.

The way he looked down at his feet at the end & laughs right before he died breaks my fucking heard. Because he thought he would be dying down the road or honestly anywhere else. With his boots on. With his friends. I can’t it just kills me. It’s such a small & missable detail but holy shit if you notice it it hurts like a bitch.

I just. I can’t. I really loved this movie. I didn’t expect to like it a bit. I expected to be bored. But the action sequences were amazing. Everything was beautifully filmed. The dialogue was amazing (see quotes below) & just. Overall it was a great movie. I can see why it’s so a-claimed. I understand Dean Winchester so naturally I have to watch the tombstone supernatural episode again. Ah.

I strongly suggest the movie. Obviously with consideration of heavy gun violence & death. But yea it was incredible. Val Kilmer is god I’m pretty sure. I will most definitely be watching this again & sobbing.

- - -

“There’s no normal life. Wyatt. Theres just life. Now get on with it.”

“Don’t know how.”

“Sure you do. Say goodbye to me.”

- - -

“Live Wyatt. Live for me. Wyatt if you were ever my friend. If you ever had the slightest feelin for me. Leave now. Please.”

- - -

“What does he need?”

“Revenge”

“For what?”

“Being born.”

- - -

“I was just foolin’ about.”

“I wasn’t.”

- - -

“Apparently Mr. Ringo is an educated man. Now I really hate him.”

- -

“You’re so drunk, in fact, you’re probably seeing double”

“I have two Guns. One for each of ya”

- - -

“Maybe pokers just not your game, Ike. I know. Let’s have a spelling contest.”

- - -

“You’re no daisy. You’re no daisy at all. Pour soul. You were just too high strung.”

- - -

“You’re a daisy if you do.”

- - -

“What you doing this for anyway?”

“Wyatt Earp is my friend”

“Hell, I got lots of friends.”

“I don’t.”

- - -

“I’m your huckleberry”

- - -

“Not me. I’m in my prime.”

- - -

God I could quote this whole movie.

But lastly y’all when they were playing cards on his death bed & Doc was like ‘I don’t wanna play anymore’. Yeah. That broke my heart. That scene is 10x more sad imo than Jack’s death in titanic.

& just the fact that his very very last moments alive were spent thinking about his friends future just shows how much they cared for each other. My heart hurts. Such a beautiful portrayal.

& yes I’m going on again about Val’s acting in this because he deserved a fucking Oscar. God. His sophisticated sarcastic & overall ugh everything of the role was absolutely perfection. It’s most definitely my favorite performance by him & maybe actually one of my top ever performances. He is so talented I cannot stress this enough.

I was tying fast. Ignore any typos.

#tombstone #cas spams #Cas talks about movies #pos #tw cursing

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greywindys · 4 years

Text

I had a fic I was working on for 2Doc week, but it betrayed me and turned angsty when I wanted something softer. So instead, I thought I could share a fic I never published, and I believe the first fic I ever wrote (dated in Google as complete on June 17th, 2016. Holy moly!)

It fits into day 3′s prompt of firsts - the first night the spent together on good terms. The beginning of the bond, I guess. It could also be considered the first head massage (lmao), as I like to think 2D is good with his hands in various scenarios 😉. (I adapted the head massage into scenes in later fics, but this was the first time I worked with it as a concept.)

If there are any “M” or “D” I apologize! When I was starting out, I was too self-conscious to write their entire names (lmao @ me). Oh, how things have changed. Hopefully, I corrected them all, along with most of the typos...

The rating here is T. Essentially, Murdoc encounters 2D late at night when he can’t sleep, and ends up watching a movie with him. They begin to form a tentative bond, head massages are had as much needed sleep. Takes place during P1.

Also happy bday again, Murdoc 😭

For Murdoc, sleeping is a daunting game of chance. First, there are the good nights, when he drinks enough to remain in a complete stupor until daylight. Then, there are the bad nights when his body’s need for genuine slumber catches up with him. On these nights, he dreams. More often than not, they come to him in the form of nightmares ranging from painfully specific to vague and unsettling. Like a flood, all of the emotions and thoughts he had intended to leave behind in Stoke return.

Tonight is one of those nights.

This one, in particular, is the reason he’s left the grimy safety of his Winne, head still aching. He intends to rummage through the studio mini-fridge for the half-consumed bottle of rum he started that morning. (after all, his anxiety wasn’t going to fix itself). Instead, he's thrilled to discover the fridge has been restocked, and he's about to grab an unopened bottle of rum when he's interrupted by a crash coming from the direction of the lobby.

The noise is coming towards the kitchen now in slow, shuffling steps. Murdoc presumes it could either be one of the wayward demons he summoned the other day, or it could be another one of the building's many intruders looking for a blank wall to vandalize. Nothing he wants to deal with now in his anxious state. Murdoc considers making a run for his Winnebago but decides against it. ‘You’re Murdoc Niccals” he thinks to himself, ‘Bass god and creative genius. You're not ten anymore and you don't get scared.' With that, he braces himself and he turns to face the unknown figure that was now in the doorway.

“Oh...Hi, Murdoc.”

It’s 2D.

“I've got half a mind to lob you through another car window,” he says trying to mask his surprise. “What the hell are you doing walking around with the lights off in the middle of the night?” That must have been the source of the noise. Typical. It’s as if 2D is intentionally searching for a way to get injured.

2D scratches his head. “No need to get so steamed up about it. I, uh, well, I guess I was trying to keep to the ambiance and all that. I didn’t think anyone else would be awake right now.”

“I don’t know what’s so unexpected. I get more done in a night that you would in a year,” Murdoc replies. He takes a sip of one of the bottles of rum he’s assembled on the counter. “So long as there are still songs to write, the siestas can wait.”

“Not sleeping well then?” 2D asks blithely. Murdoc can’t tell if the singer has seen right through him or failed to comprehend a word of what he just said. He finds him very unreadable at times, and in the most infuriating way.

“No. I was working. Being productive. You ought to try it once in a while,” Murdoc grumbles in response. “Anyways. What’s all this about the ‘ambiance’?” As if 2D is that deep. “And why here?”

“That new zombie movie, you know the one I was telling you about? Well, it arrived today,” 2D says with a grin. “And now I’m watching it. It’s a lot scarier when you do it the dark.”

“Well you have a TV, no, THREE TVs in your room,” Murdoc retorts, exasperated. “Just go away and watch it there.”

“Yeah, uh, l thought about that, but the special effects in this one are supposed to be wicked good and the screen in the lobby has a clearer picture than the screens in my room. I would have watched it this afternoon, but Russel said Noodle shouldn’t be watching all the blood and guts, so I waited until now. It’s better watching scary movies late at night anyway, you know?” 2D is looking at Murdoc now, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice. “A couple blokes on this forum I was reading were describing it like a Romero meets Raimi type film, really over the top.”

“Sounds like a real Oscar winner you have there,” the sarcasm in Murdoc’s voice is palpable.

“Actually, it was a straight to video release, but you should check it out,” 2D says. “I’m only about ten minutes in now...if you have...time,” he trails off awkwardly.

The band had faced many inexplicable and absurd situations, but it is 2D’s consistent attempts to be friends that confounded Murdoc the most. His first inclination to tell the singer to fuck off. Yet the thought of the solitary journey back through the car park gives him pause. He isn't sure he can handle being alone right now. He needs an immediate distraction, a mood lifter, and making fun of 2D has the potential to be a two in one solution. At the very least, it was a safer gamble than going back and running the risk of falling asleep again.

Murdoc makes 2D wait for an answer in uncomfortable silence before replying. “Fine,” he says, “This better be entertaining.”

2D brightens at his response. “Just let me grab some snacks and then we can go back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, and this time turn on the damn lights.”

With some newly acquired light and a bag of crackers in hand, 2D leads Murdoc to the lobby. A collection of pillows and blankets litter the floor. All the while, and to Murdoc’s annoyance, he takes the time to tell him every detail of the conception of his setup. He had been in the lobby for the past four hours watching movies. According to 2D, doing so in such an open area was much scarier than in his room or even in the building’s cinema. He was also sorry because they would have to turn the lights off again when the film starts. “Because well, you know, Muds. The ambiance.”

“Just start the bloody movie will you,” Murdoc replies from his spot on the floor. The size of Kong is intimidating at night, and it’s not helping him calm down. He hates how much his dreams still affect him. Physically, he had left all the bad energy behind ages ago, but mentally it follows him like a low-hanging mist, threatening to completely engulf him daily. He couldn't seem to make it go away, but he could control how much he thought about it. Alcohol was typically his mainstay but right now, that job belonged to an unwitting 2D. If he didn’t start the movie soon, Murdoc was going to set his entire movie collection on fire.

“It’s the little triangle that does the trick, right?” 2D asks as he studies the remote. “Never mind. I think I have it. There we go.”

The scene starts with a group of young adults in their twenties hiking through the woods as night falls. Occasionally, the camera switches angles. It shows the group from alternate perspectives such as the bushes or the tops of trees.

“The director wanted to flip the whole slow zombie portrayal on its head,” 2D explains. “There’s already been talk of fast zombies in the indie horror community, but he wants to take that one step further. In an interview, he said that not only were his zombies going to be fast, but they were also going to fly.”

“That’s stupid. And you thought this was worth the twenty or so quid you blew on it?”

“He’s ahead of his time. You’ll see. Look,” 2D says through a mouthful of crackers. He points to the current scene. One of the protagonists had wandered away from his group in search of a good place to set up camp. “See what he does with the camera there? We’re watching the main character from the perspective of a flying zombie. The director wanted to make a movie about an outbreak that emerges in the wilderness, not because of some virus. It's meant to add to the impossibility of the situation. How do we fight against something not man-made? Watching the film through the eyes of the monster emphasizes how alone and insignificant we are in the face of well, everything. Man versus nature, nature versus man.”

Murdoc grabs the bag of crackers from 2D. “Oh please. This is hardly cutting edge. We all know they’ll all be dead in the end because nature is bigger than man. Duh.” He takes a handful for himself and continues watching.

2D ignores him and continues his reflection. “It makes me wonder whether it would be better to be a zombie at the end, rather than survive. Not sure I would want the loneliness that comes with it.”

Murdoc is beginning to realize that 2D is in one of his chatty, philosophical moods. He attempts to tune out the singer’s blathering with another drink from the bottle of rum he brought with him from the kitchen. He came here to watch a ridiculous movie. Instead, he's stuck listening to banal musings about the true nature of humanity from someone with a half-functioning brain.

“Well if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse here, I’ll be sure to let them eat you first if you’re so eager. You’re already halfway there anyway, and certainly no better off than these divs on screen.”

“Thanks, Muds. If I ever get infected, I’ll make sure not to bite you...unless you want me too,” 2D replies.

This time, it’s Murdoc's turn to ignore him. “Anyways, as far as I’m concerned, anyone who’s too pathetic to fight against a zombie apocalypse deserves whatever is coming to them.” He gets a twisted sense of comfort from blaming.

“I dunno...I don’t see any shame in being afraid of a monster bigger than you. That’s what makes these movies so scary. We all have our own monsters that seem impossible to overcome,” 2D says sagely. “It’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just how it is.”

Murdoc scowls. “Does watching movies at this hour always turn you into a half-braindead Socrates? Or Plato? Hippocrates? He's just naming names now. He fidgets.

On-screen, another character screams as one of the zombies bites her arm.

“Are you alright there, Muds?” Why did 2D have to pick up on everything? “Movie too scary for ya?”

“No!” Murdoc snaps. “It’s not that… It’s just...” Neither 2D nor the rum he grabbed from the fridge earlier had done anything to dull his current bout of nerves. Instead, all the tension has been gathering at the base of his neck. The throbbing in his head from before is even worse. He groans in frustration.

“You just seem a little on edge, that’s all.”

“...It’s my head.”

“Oh, you have a headache,” 2D says, seemingly pleased that it’s an issue well within the breadth of his expertise. “Do you need any help with it? I was talking with my mum about mine just last week; she gave me something good.”

Murdoc perks up. He could count on one hand the number of scenarios where he would place his trust in 2D. Pain medicine was one of them. A strong painkiller could change everything. “Do you happen to any of those buggers with you now?”

“Sure,” 2D says, smiling as he moves closer to where Murdoc is sitting.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m um, well for this to work I’m actually going to have to touch your head.”

Immediately, Murdoc jerks away. “You what?!”

2D shrinks back in response. “It’s just a head massage, Muds. My mum’s worried about the number of prescriptions I have so we cut one of the stronger ones out and replaced it with this. We wanted to see if it made a difference. I’ve been going to a massage therapist for the past two weeks or so. It doesn’t quite do the trick but it works well enough, I picked up some technique myself, uh, I think.”

“You can take all that geeky zen rubbish and sod off,” Murdoc mutters.

“Okay, Muds...alright.”

They continue watching the screen as victim after victim gets infected. 2D continues to interject with overlong descriptions about symbolism, zombie lore, and film technique. Murdoc weighs his options. If he’s being honest, he’s at a point where he would accept anything that might make him feel better. But why did it have to be 2D? On the other hand, the singer wouldn’t stop talking. Considering it was just the two of them, and no one else would ever have to find out, Murdoc makes his decision. Allowing 2D to touch his head in this scenario was justified. Interrupting yet another explanation about the folly of man, he asks, “Hey uh...2D? You know that massage you were talking about? Will giving me one make you shut up for more than ten minutes?”

“Oh..uh,” 2D sounds surprised. “Yeah. Yeah, we can give it a try.” Hesitantly, he moves behind Murdoc and begins.

2D’s fingers send tiny sparks along Murdoc’s scalp as he kneads the muscles in his forehead, moving downwards along his hairline. He dwells on how amazing it feels but pushes that thought to the side with haste. He keeps his eyes locked on the screen and the excessive depictions of gore and chaos. It’s an apt representation of turmoil he is currently feeling inside. What he finds so maddening about 2D, even more than his inscrutability and empty-headedness, was his willingness to be kind to Murdoc. Murdoc had spent the past twenty or so years convincing himself that kindness was not meant to be a part of his life. There was something inherent to his existence that repelled it from him. And he had come to accept that until 2D had to come along and mess it all up. It had to be because he was just too stupid, there was no other answer. Murdoc wasn’t sure he would be able to handle any other answer.

As 2D moves his hands to the back of Murdoc’s head, he begins softly humming. He begins following along to the soundtrack of the movie but soon trails off on his own. Evidently, watching the movie without any sort of verbalization was not going to happen. However, the melody he’s come up with is wistful and soothing. Murdoc makes a mental note to ask him about it in the morning to see if it would fit with some lyrics he had drafting. Slowly, and a bit self-consciously, Murdoc feels himself begin to relax.

“How does it feel so far? Is it working?” 2D asks.

Oh, it was working. More than that, Murdoc realizes a significant amount of his tension had abated. The darkness of the lobby no longer looks so menacing, the unpleasant memories that were hovering over him seem to have floated away. He's never been able to settle himself down from a bad night without copious amounts of alcohol. It’s an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation.

“I think the movie is almost over. Didn’t quite live up to the hype but it was still pretty entertaining after all. How about you?” 2D asks, still looking for a response.

Murdoc yawns. “I’ll give this director you were so excited about some credit. He knows his way around a good death scene. I don’t think I’ve ever seen fake blood used that way before.”

“The fake blood actually cause a lot of controversies because some of it was real animal blood. I almost didn’t buy it myself.”

“Ah. A man after my own heart.” 2D’s hands are still kneading the back of his head when Murdoc moves to lie down on his stomach.

“Oh, are you going to sleep now?” 2D asks.

“No. Keep going.” He would have never considered it earlier in the night but, as the singer's fingers continue to run through his hair, Murdoc muses that sleep may not sound so bad after all. Even though it was just 2D, it’s comforting to have him there.

“So I guess it’s been helping then? My mum will glad to hear,” 2D says. “But you might want to run a comb through your hair a bit more often, it’s all greasy...also a bit tangled in the back.”

“Just...shut up.”

So he does, returning to the reflective melody he had been humming just minutes ago. It’s the singer’s soft croon that sticks in Murdoc's mind as he finally drifts off completely.

-------

When his eyes open, the first thing Murdoc notices is the half-empty bottle of rum he had left by his side. The next thing he notices is that he's still in the lobby, surrounded by blankets. He must have slept there the entire night.

“Oh, morning, Muds,” comes a familiar voice just to the right of him. “You’re awake.”

Turning quickly in the direction of the voice, Murdoc finds himself face to face with 2D. “What the hell are you still doing here?” M demands, mortified, “Why didn’t you go back to your own room?”

“Well, I was going to do that, but once you laid down, I wanted to lay down too, and you rolled over on my arm and wouldn’t budge. I tried to tell you, but all you did was try and elbow me. You missed though,” 2D mumbles. It sounds like he’s still half asleep. “Then I guess I just nodded off.”

Murdoc feels his embarrassment beginning to morph into anger but decides to ignore it. He's pretty comfortable right where he is. “You’re lucky you’re my lead singer.” 2D was also lucky that he gave good head massages. “Because otherwise, you would be on some really thin ice right now.”

“We’ll be lucky to see any ice at all this winter what with all the warm weather.”

Usually, an obtuse response from 2D would have earned him a string of insults or a swat on the head. Today was not going to be one of those days. Murdoc turns again so that he’s facing away from the singer, pulling the blanket over his head to block out the light. He was going to savor the moment a bit longer. Despite 2D being 2D, it’s rare that he’s ever felt so at peace.

“Hey, Murdoc? Wait,” 2D says, “You never gave me my arm back.”

“Too bad. I’ll check back in a couple hours,” Murdoc grins beneath the blanket. He still couldn’t pass up a chance to inconvenience the singer at every opportunity. It was too much fun.

“Don’t be such a wanker,” 2D says as he attempts to jerk his arm out from underneath the bassist. “I was nice to you!”

He was right. And he was probably nicer than he deserved, given their history. For that reason, Murdoc would roll off his arm soon enough. He still wanted to talk to him about that song he had been humming.

The singer had surprised him last night. Murdoc knew that 2D had an uncanny ability to figure out how to annoy him to maximum effect, but he never would have expected him to also know what to do to put him at ease. Underneath the covers, he ponders what exactly this realization means to him. He isn’t sure, but he knows it means something. It wasn’t going to eliminate the underlying resentment he still clung to, nor was it going to solve his infinite list of issues. But at the very least, he could rest assured knowing that he wasn’t completely alone.

#ficpost #2doc week 2020 #it's interesting to reflect on what's changed #anyhow! just a little thing to close out the week

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marinaaniseed · 4 years

Text

Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt. 11

Summary: It’s the day after the stuffing chapter. New Asgard decides which system of government it wants. Not much smut, an awful lot of politics.

Length: 6.9k. A more sensible person than me might try to edit this down, but honestly, I feel like you’d all be horribly disappointed if I didn’t write all the words.

Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics, body shaming, intrusive media, social media shittiness, uncomfortable family relationships, mentions of starting a family, mentions of dead characters, smutty pictures, some ridiculously long speeches that might give you feels. I think that’s it.

Notes: This chapter, quite literally, took months to write. Apologies, therefore, if it’s a bit disjointed or I contradict myself. This bad boy is now over 50k in total (!) It took a while, because I couldn’t quite decide how I wanted it to go. Also, writing a story a day for the entire year is quite time consuming and a really fucking terrible idea. Typos and errors are all my own but please alert me to anything spectacularly bad so I can fix. I’ve not given this any distance, so I am hella word-blind.

Also, one of you gets a mention :P

Need a reminder of what’s happened? Pt. 10 & the masterlist.

If you like what I do, please let me know.

It wasn’t the cockerels crowing that woke you, but the dogs excitedly greeting someone.

“Whuh time issit?” you mumbled into Thor’s hair, your hand resting on his still full tummy as you spooned the sleepy Thunder God.

“Too early.”

He wasn’t wrong. Groggily you pulled yourself away, rummaging around for something to throw on so you could investigate who your visitor was.

Opening the bedroom door, you spied the Valkyrie crouched down by the settee, rubbing Geri’s tummy.

“Why?” you asked, not really awake enough to form a proper question.

“Why what?” Valkyrie responded, continuing to fuss the dog at her feet.

“Why are you here? Now? At this godforsaken time?”

“Has Thor forsaken this time in particular?”

Your glare said it all.

“I jest, sorry. Have you been online? Checked your phone? Seen or heard the news?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brunnhilde,” you said, startling the dogs and finally rousing Thor, “I’ve literally just gotten up. Because of you. When would I have done any of that? And why does it matter?”

“I’ll make the coffee, you go get Thor.”

You’d barely turned and taken a step, when you collided with the solid mass that was your lover.

“What’s wrong? Why is the Valkyrie here?” he asked, holding you to his stomach.

“Not a fucking clue.”

You weren’t exactly a morning person. Even less so after a few cocktails, and when your awakening had been rude. Not the good kind of rude, either. Thor knew, from prior experience, that waking you unexpectedly was like deciding to disturb a wasp’s nest. Nothing good would come of it and it wasn’t something you’d likely repeat in a hurry. You were a surly, venomous grump, sure to sting whatever had disturbed you.

Either Brunnhilde was more foolhardy than he thought, or something was seriously wrong.

Brunnhilde returned to find you slouched on the settee, buried in Thor’s hoodie with the hood pulled up and over, almost to the point of covering your eyes, in a vain attempt at ignoring the world. The steaming mug of caffeine placed on the table next to you was met with a snort of derision, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Thor sat next to you, before pulling you onto his lap. Maybe whatever had brought the Valkyrie would concern only him, and you could doze off against his chest.

“Did you enjoy your pizza last night?” Brunnhilde asked, breaking the frosty silence.

“Yes,” Thor smiled at the memory. “How did you know we had pizza?”

“That’s what brought me here. I’m sorry it’s so early.”

Why would pizza have brought her here, Thor wondered. Did she need a recipe? Did she have some left over? Was she planning to open a pizza place in New Asgard?

“Someone… someone, erm, they snapped some pictures of you. The two of you. In the restaurant. They must’ve recognised you.”

“So?” Thor queried softly, hoping that you had begun to return to sleep in his arms.

“Well, they sold them to some media people. You’re, erm, trending on Twitter. I wanted to tell you before you saw for yourselves, some of the reporting is… unflattering.”

Yeah. Thor could already picture it. Being fat and in the public eye was just a magnet for the worst kind of people.

“If they’ve worked out who Y/N is, it’s not been published yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Brunnhilde continued.

“Ah, balls,” you said, finally joining the conversation.

“Indeed. A few months back, I asked some friends to do some digging on you. Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to be prepared for the time when it eventually emerged that you and Thor were together. I didn’t find anything to be worried about in what they found on you, but I understand that there may be things that you’d prefer to stay private. The silence of those involved can be arranged, if you wish.”

There were certainly things in your past that you weren’t exactly proud of. You probably should’ve realised that you couldn’t stay under the radar forever.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t waste your resources, or those of your friends. I’ve been alive long enough to know that if the tabloid press thinks there’s a story, they’ll dig it up somehow. Or just make one up. I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s the end of that. Anyone commenting on my life probably has stuff they’d rather keep secret,” you answered with a sigh.

“Very well. Do you want to read the dossier?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s very thorough and accurate. Thor, do you want to read it?”

“Anything you wish to tell me about your past, you can tell me about yourself,” he answered, running his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you have done, it’s of no consequence. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Some youthful follies could not reverse my love for you.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest hair to hide the tears you could feel beginning to sting your eyes.

“Is that all, Brunnhilde? May we return to bed?” Thor said.

“Yes, of course. Apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted you to hear it from a friend before you heard it elsewhere.”

You were fast asleep again by the time Thor gently laid you back on the bed. You must’ve been warm in his hoodie, the early rays of sunshine beginning to seep into the bedroom, but he didn’t want to disturb you. His mind was all over the place, so he decided to check the news on your tablet while you were tucked into his side.

Thor’s Hammered!

King of Ass-gard

Pizza Gut - Avenger destroys pizza buffet

Thor quickly put the tablet back down. It stung to read the words they wrote about him, but even worse was what they wrote about you. They didn’t know you, why did they get to judge you, speculate about who you were and why you were with him? You were just another name on the long list of loved ones he wasn’t able to protect.

Gingerly removing himself from your side, relieved when he didn’t wake you, Thor decided to sit back on the settee, letting Loki slither over him. The snake wasn’t as helpful as his brother, but he found it calming anyway.

15 minutes later, the sound of a message being received made him jump. Unlocking his old phone, he saw it was a message from Brunnhilde.

I know you said you didn’t want to know about Y/N’s past, but I think you might find this interesting…

There were several links at the bottom of the message. Thor didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was that important that Brunnhilde had felt the need to send him a link.

Moving as quietly as he could, he returned to the bedroom to grab the tablet, before settling back down to see what had been sent.

Typing the address was a torturous process, his fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to easily manipulate Midgardian devices, although he was becoming more careful with them. Still, he nearly dropped the tablet when he saw where the link took him to.

It was a gallery of pictures. Pictures of you, to be exact. You weren’t naked but it was obvious that these weren’t the kind of pictures you shared with friends or family. He’d heard about these kinds of sites, adult sites they were called. The model had a different name, but it was definitely you. No doubt about it.

Pictures of you in corsets that pushed up your breasts and cinched in your waist. Pictures of you with chokers around your throat. Some pictures where you wore clothing made of a strange material that seemed to fit you like a second skin. Some more where you wore beautiful lingerie in vibrant colours, brilliant blues and vivid violets.

The pictures on the next link were a little different. Leather gloves, ball gags, handcuffs. Fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots. Why had he never seen any of these outfits? Carefully gripping the tablet with one hand, he moved the other inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing at the head of his excited cock.

For a split second, he considered what Brunnhilde had thought of these pictures. Had she shown them to Sif? What if they’d both enjoyed them?

His cock grew harder at the thought.

And he knew he should feel a little ashamed. You hadn’t mentioned these pictures, so it probably wasn’t something you were proud of, but he couldn’t help but look, hope that others had looked, and seen just how sexy you were.

He didn’t really understand the third link. That seemed to be a niche site. You were barely visible, clad in rain gear, and wrapped in heavy duty tape to secure you to a post.

But, Brunnhilde really had saved the best until last.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded. Eyes wide in another as you looked at the woman stroking your hair as you sat tied to the chair. If he had to be king, he’d insist on having a throne, just so he could recreate that image with you. Only, in his version, you’d be wearing a lot less clothes, his face between your thighs, eating you out until the only thing keeping you upright were the ropes that held you in your place.

It was funny. He’d not really enjoyed being in chains, in a cage, when he’d encountered Surtur. But the thought of you being bound, held captive while he pleasured you in all the different ways he knew how. Now, that was something he liked the idea of.

Freeing his cock, he began to stroke in earnest, the images he’d just seen and images of what he’d like to do to you fuelling his desire. The harder he thought of them, the harder he got, and the harder he pumped his fist.

His orgasm was explosive, and Loki hissed at him angrily. Geri and Freki perked up their ears to see what the fuss was about. He knew he should move and clean himself but he was comfy, he was relaxed, he could rest here for a moment or two.

***

Evidently it was more than a moment or two when he awoke to the sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen him, and there’s no way he could pretend it was anything else. He’d fallen asleep with his cock out, the evidence crusted onto his tummy.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he approached the kitchen with caution.

“Good morning, my love,” he tried.

“Good afternoon,” you corrected. “Dare I ask?” you said, looking at his gut pointedly.

Nothing good would come of lying, so he tried his best to explain the truth.

“Ah, well, what happened was, you see, Brunnhilde sent me an electronic letter with some links on my phone. So I looked at them on the tablet,” he explained.

“Brunnhilde sent you porn?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean maybe? The links were to pictures of you.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “Brunnhilde’s friends found those.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them. I enjoyed doing them.”

Thor doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t press you, doesn’t tell you about his fantasies. You’ll tell him when you want to, if you want to. He’ll tell you when you’re not trying to cook avocado eggs Benedict.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before walking off to the bathroom. He’s glad that you’re not angry or upset, but he’s still embarrassed that you caught him in that position.

The shower is cold, but not cold enough to cool him down from his thoughts. Thoughts of those photos, thoughts of last night, and thoughts of what he’d like to do with you in the future. He could probably roll around on Jötunheimr and still feel too hot.

He’s quiet during brunch, but you don’t press him. You just hold his hand, silently telling him that everything will be alright.

You’d briefly checked your phone before Thor had woken up. There were so many notifications, you were afraid it might crash, and you’d put it back down again. Today was an historic day for New Asgard, you didn’t want to overshadow it by worrying about what Twitter trolls had to say about you. It keeps buzzing on the table next to you, and you continue ignoring it.

“Are you going to check that?” Thor asked. “It might be something important.”

“I don’t really want to, I’m afraid of what I might see,” you said.

“I understand, but the longer you leave it, the worse it will be. Maybe just check if there is anything from your family. You don’t want it playing on your mind throughout the day.”

Thor’s right, and so with a resigned sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at your notifications, dismissing anything that wasn’t important.

A message from Sam on Skype that read I knew you had a thing for older men, didn’t realise you liked them THAT old ;-) now I know where you are, let me know when I can visit. Ignore the haters, they’re just jealous.

There was also an entire chain of emails from your mum, without a subject. She’d never quite gotten the hang of email.

Is this you/??>????? And then a link to a news website.

It is, isn’t it.

WHy didn’t you tell us. Where you were????

Your father is looking at flights.

He’s found some cheap ones with Ryanair, we’re coming over in a fortnight. Flying to Oslo. Charlie is coming too.

He can’t find anywhere to stay in New Asgard, are there no hotels????

Answer me.

“Ah, fuck,” you said, staring at down at your phone.

“What’s the matter?” Thor asked, worried that you’d seen something critical of you.

“My family knows where I am now, they’re coming to visit,” you mumbled. “In two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet them,” Thor said, kissing your hand.

“Yeah,” you said doubtfully. You loved your family, but they could be tricky at times. They were hurt, of course, by your vagueness on the subject of your whereabouts. You already knew they were going to make some unintentionally hurtful comments, either about Thor, or about Alex, or both. They were also likely to do the same about you.

“Two weeks,” Thor mused, still enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting your family. “I think that gives me sufficient time to build a place for them to stay.”

It was lovely that he was excited by the prospect, but you groaned internally. Something told you that Thor was not going to have time for much if the vote went the way you thought it would.

“I’ll tell them we can accommodate them somewhere,” you said, firing off a quick email. “Now, let’s forget about this and focus on the task at hand. Brunnhilde wanted us there no later than two, that only gives us an hour.”

***

At 2:10 you arrived at the mead hall, Thor in his full regalia, you in the dress he’d gifted you for the May Day feast. Geri and Freki loping along behind you. You went to add the one remaining cake to the long table of food, while Brunnhilde intercepted Thor.

“Is everything alright, after this morning?” she asked him.

“Yes, I think so. Y/N is strong, although her family have elected to visit. That seems to have shaken her,” Thor sighed.

“It must be hard to face someone you thought was dead, even if you love them, once you’ve been through the grieving process,” Brunnhilde noted.

“It is.” Thor knows it’s hard, he went through it enough times with Loki, but he’d do anything to have his brother back. Or his mother, father.

There are flowers everywhere. Bouquets on tables, bunting hanging from the rafters, and people everywhere with flower crowns on their heads. Thor’s pleased with how well they’ve turned out. He makes a note to thank everyone involved, as well as to the plants for blooming so abundantly for him. There was something very satisfying about growing things and tending to them, becoming one with nature.

He’s not surprised when you return with a flower crown, plus one each around the dog’s necks. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, which is why he’d made sure to cultivate flowers that wouldn’t make the dogs sick when they inevitably tried to eat them. Thor particularly likes how you look with your flower crown. He’s seen you wear one before, of course, but they really do suit you. He hopes that if he has to be king, then perhaps one day you’ll wear a different kind of crown.

“Hello, Brunnhilde. Apologies for our lateness. I didn’t grab a crown for you but if Thor doesn’t want this one, I’m sure you can have it,” you offered, holding out the wreath.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really one for crowns,” Valkyrie answered with a small shake of her head. “I’ll leave you two to mingle, just don’t be late for the vote announcement.”

“We won’t,” Thor assured her, knowing full well that they won’t start without him. “I fear this may not be the only crown I accept today,” he continues, taking the flowers from you and placing them on his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll support you, no matter the outcome.”

Thor knows this, and he’s glad of it. He’s still not comfortable with being in charge, quite content with his life, building things, tending to the plants, and playing with his animals. But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. After Loki died, he was so very alone. Korg and Miek were great, but there was something missing in his life, a much closer form of companionship that he’d finally found again.

“Let us mingle, I’m sure there are many children who will be glad to pet the dogs,” Thor said, looping his arm with yours at the elbow.

*** By the time it gets to the hour of the announcement, Geri and Freki have had their bellies rubbed by seemingly every child in New Asgard, much to their delight.

A little boy had brought you a small posy of flowers, and was extra pleased when Thor held him in his strong arms and let the child place the flowers in Thor’s beard. It’s very haphazard, and a little one-sided but Thor’s pleased with the end result, when you show him in your pocket mirror.

It makes him ache desperately to have a child - well, children - of his own. He thinks about what kind of uncle Loki would’ve been.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have stabbed them.

It’s too hot in the mead hall. Thor’s been trying to drink slowly, aware that he’s drinking out of nerves more than anything.

Dutch courage, you’d called it. Allegedly, Dutch soldiers had drunk jenever before going into battle. Thor considered that a little risky. Drinking was best done after battle, being clumsy while handling a weapon didn’t strike him as the best strategy. Then again, it seemed to work fine for Brunnhilde. It didn’t really happen to him, but supposed many people got nervous before a fight.

Thor knew you had a Dutch friend, a teacher. He wondered if they might bring jenever with them if they ever came to visit?

Bruce came over, crowds of Asgardians parting easily for his bulky frame.

“Hey buddy,” he said, hugging Thor. “Are you ready?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Thor answered. A few years ago, he’d thought he was ready. Had almost been crowned king.

He never thanked Loki for royally screwing that up. It was only now, with hindsight, that he could appreciate the favour his brother had inadvertently done him.

“It’s time,” Bruce told Thor, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thor looks back at you, but you shake your head. This is an Asgardian matter. Your place is at the back with Geri and Freki, not onstage with Asgard’s elite.

“Do you know?” Thor asked Bruce, desperately.

“No Thor. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Bruce noted. “Whatever happens, you have people that care about you. It won’t be like it was before.”

Thor joins Valkyrie, Sif and several others onstage. Bruce waves his hands, dampening down the crowd that buzzes like a hornet’s nest. Despite all the assurances, this is still a volatile situation and Bruce says a silent prayer that everything works out for the best.

“Thank you all,” Bruce addressed the crowd. “Thank you for trusting in the process and for allowing us, as outside observers, to count all of your votes. No system will be perfect, but we hope that you will all respect the outcome, whatever it may be. It took three rounds of voting for an option to gain over 50% of the vote. I’ll now hand over to Captain America, who has the results.”

Bruce steps down, stands to the right hand side of the stage as Sam steps forward. Anticipation builds around the room, like static during a storm. Sif holds hands with both Thor and Valkyrie, holding in a breath as she waits to see which of the people she cares about most will draw the short straw of heading Asgard.

She fervently hopes that the people will have chosen another option, but she doubts it. Most Asgardians fell on one side of the divide or the other - traditionalists who wanted to continue the existing royal family, and those who felt that Brunnhilde was the best leader amongst those left.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, grateful that someone the Asgardians were familiar with had addressed them first. “The result is very close, but let me assure you, it is accurate. We counted every single ballot ten times, just to ensure there was no discrepancy. With 50.8% of the vote, the people of Asgard have chosen the option of an octarchy.”

The room erupted with people cheering, complaining, or otherwise chatting with people about what it all meant. Sam waited for the commotion to die down before continuing.”

“Furthermore, the proposed solution, as outlined within the election materials is that Thor, son of Odin.” Sam paused, Thor’s full title sounding odd coming out of his mouth, but that was what the piece of paper he was holding said. “Thor, son of Odin, shall rule as king, and head of state.”

Thor paled visibly and your heart went out to him, glad that Sif was holding his hand.

“Succession will be a matter of blood, as it has always been, unless Thor shall have no issue. In that event, the people of Asgard will once again convene to decide how they wish to be governed. Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall serve as his second in command. She will rule in his absence or if he is incapacitated, if Thor does not have an heir of legal age.”

Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Bucky write the speech, he should’ve known his metal-armed partner would try to stitch him up with flowery Asgardian language. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky smirking, standing next to Bruce. Sam makes a mental note to put on his suit later, pick Bucky up, and drop him in the North Sea.

“The other six members of the council will be chosen as follows. Thor, son of Odin, and Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall each choose one. Two more shall be elected by the people of Asgard. The final two shall be selected at random in a lottery of all citizens who have come of age. These positions shall be reviewed every ten years, unless circumstances, or the will of the people dictate otherwise.”

The place descends into chaos, even the dogs start barking at all the noise, and it only stops when the valkyrie gets to the front of the stage and lets out an ear-piercing screech. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, wincing.

“Settle down everyone, settle down,” she shouted. “I respect this result, just as I said I would, and I pledge to serve both Asgard and its king to the best of my ability, as long as I am able to do so. I would like to thank you for your trust and patience during the time in which I served as Asgard’s caretaker. I know that not all of you were happy with the situation, but I hope I served you well. There is one among us, who I would like to nominate for inclusion on the council. However, I am aware that some of you may feel it is a conflict of interests. As many of you are aware, the Lady Sif and I are in love. She is my nomination if you will accept her.”

Raucous applause erupts. Sif is well liked, and most people are pleased to have her helping to steer Asgard’s course, even if she’s a little too eager to head into battle at times.

“Very well, I thank you all for your trust,” the valkyrie continued. “While I have the floor, there is one more thing I wish to do. I was going to do it later, but I think now is best, to declare my love in front of all those I serve.”

This time it’s Sif’s turn to go pale, as the Valkyrie sinks to her knees, turning back to Sif.

“Lady Sif,” Brunnhilde began. “I have lived long and travelled far, and there is no beauty that can compare to yours. Your love shines brighter than any star, and I am a better person for you sharing it with me. I have no title or riches to give you. This is but a small trinket, for I have already given you the greatest gift I have to give, which is my heart. I would be honoured if you would accept this ring as a token of my love, as is the custom on much of Midgard, and agree to be my wife.”

Sif is openly sobbing, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry before. Scores more around the room wipe away tears as Sif slowly moves forward, allowing the Valkyrie to slip the ring onto her finger. Once it’s in place, Sif takes Brunnhilde’s hands and pulls her up, embracing her tightly and kissing her fiercely to a chorus of cheers.

It’s a wonderful sight, and you’re glad that there’s something for Asgard to celebrate, even if the vote didn’t go everyone’s way. Your throat goes dry as Thor nervously makes his way to the front of the stage to speak.

“Hello everyone. Apologies if I seem nervous, it has been many years since I last addressed so many,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his cloak. It’s far too hot to be wearing it, but he’d insisted that this was an important occasion and that he should dress accordingly.

“My congratulations to the Lady Sif and the Lady Brunnhilde. Theirs is an excellent union, and I wish them an eternity of happiness together.”

Thor waits until the cheering dies down before continuing.

“I, too, respect and honour the results of this vote. No man can outrun his destiny, and it seems mine will always be to rule Asgard as its king, even though I feel ill-equipped to do so. Fate apparently wills it so. I have not led Asgard well these last few years, and I apologise for that from the bottom of my heart. I have been remiss in my duties. I know that some of you do not trust that I have changed, but I give you my solemn word that I have. That I will act for the good of Asgard, and the other eight realms, as long as there is life in my breast.”

The entire room draws a collective gasp as Thor sinks to one knee. Panic sets in. This can’t be happening. Surely he’s not about to propose as well?

“I kneel before you, as your humble servant,” Thor continued, and you sighed in relief. “Too long, the people of Asgard have knelt before the throne. No more. I kneel before you all, and ask for your forgiveness. I am not the man I was, but I hope with time, that I will become someone better, someone worthy of the position that I find myself in.

“Asgard is not a place, it is a people. My father told me that, and I see now how true it is. I thank each and every one of you for trusting and believing in Asgard, in each other, when I did not trust or believe in myself. Together, you have created something strong and beautiful. I thank you for sharing it with me. You have rebuilt, you have shown incredible strength and fortitude.

“I am sorry for abandoning you. It is the most dishonourable and cowardly thing I have ever done. I asked the Valkyrie to rule in my stead, because I felt she was the best person for the job. I am truly sorry for abandoning Asgard in her hour of need. Thank you, all of you. Thank you for preserving our traditions and stories. Thank you for building a new home for us all. Thank you to everyone who has helped today. Baking delicacies, creating flower crowns, playing music. All that you do, on this day and every day, to ensure that we survive, that our culture survives, is appreciated by me.

“I hope to be able to thank you all individually, but please understand, it may take me some time. I kneel before you, as your king, humbled by the faith you still place in me. I shall work to rule as a king of the people, not above them. The throne should not be an untouchable pedestal on which I am put.

“Although I do not have a crown, I kneel before you, ready to serve Asgard, completely and unreservedly.”

“About your crown,” a voice called from the stunned crowd, as all eyes turned to look at Lorelei. She walked slowly through them, people parting for her, before she stopped in front of the stage, directly in front of Thor.

“When Hela attacked, many of us realised that Asgard was in peril. As we fled the city, some of us gathered up important artefacts. I apologise for keeping this from you, your majesty, but there never seemed to be an opportune moment…” she trailed off, reaching into a leather satchel, slung low against her hip.

Several people fainted, as with trembling hands, she pulled a crown from it.

“My-my father’s crown,” Thor mumbled, stunned.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lorelei explained. “I apologise again for keeping it secret, but you had already lost so much, I did not wish to remind you of your father. I have kept it safe, all these years. I believed that one day, you would be restored to the throne. I believed that day would be today.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out the crown as Thor lowered his head. Tears were running down his face, into his beard, for everyone to see as he sat back up, slowly rising to his feet.

A collective sense of shock reverberated around the room, and you anxiously stroked your two dogs, who sat flanked you on either side.

“Thank you, good Lady Lorelei. This truly is an extraordinary gift. I thought I would never see this again, let alone wear it. I do wonder, now, what else was saved from Asgard, but that is a matter for another time,” Thor advised. “I have but one more matter to discuss, before it is time to feast. There is much to celebrate this day, and I hope it is one that will long be remembered.”

Thor paused, taking a moment to look around the hall. His friends, his people looking up at him. It filled him with a tiny spark of confidence that everything would work out fine this time, unlike when he had told Loki it would, all those years ago, after Asgard was destroyed.

“Like the Lady Brunnhilde, I too have someone I wish to nominate to the council. Like her, this person is one who is very dear to me,” he noted, looking across the heads of everyone to look you in the eye.

Thousands of heads turned to face you as you froze, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

“I wish to nominate the Lady Y/N. She has done so much for Asgard, though her time with us has been short so far,” Thor admitted. “As an outsider, I believe she has much knowledge and wisdom to offer us about Midgard, its people, and their customs. Her counsel is invaluable to me, and I would like to offer her a place at this table, if there are no objections.”

Deathly silence descends, everyone waiting for someone to say something.

“A wise appointment, your majesty,” Leifr spoke up, and a chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

“It is settled then,” Thor exclaimed happily. “The other four positions shall be determined in due time, but now I say it is time to eat, drink, and dance our fill. There is much to celebrate as we enter into a proud new chapter in Asgard’s history.”

Everything was a blur for several hours as you try to process exactly what’s happened. Thor being king again was something you expected, and he seems to be taking it well. His speech was genuinely moving and you could see many Asgardians visibly softening to him as he spoke.

But appointing you to be one of Asgard’s eight rulers?

No. No no no. This could not be happening. You didn’t belong here, didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Judging by the way people keep congratulating you, it definitely is happening. You barely have an appetite, pushing your food around, eating small amounts whenever Thor prompts you to try this dish or that.

It had been a productive few hours for the other three newly instated rulers. Between them, they’d managed to hash out a plan for getting the other council members appointed. They’d even found time to draft a press release with Pepper, covering the events of the day. The world media would be taken aback. New Asgard had never released any information before. Along with the details of the election, Pepper had made sure to note that the new rulers would be willing to engage with journalists going forward to ensure transparency about what the kingdom was doing, but that they would not interact with any outlet that did not respect Asgardian privacy or engaged in hurtful gossip about them.

Apparently, the prince of another country, and his wife, had done something similar a few years prior.

You sit completely zoned out, a zombie. Utterly alone while surrounded by people. Geri and Freki lie protectively at your feet, aware that something is wrong.

Even Thor can sense that something is amiss. You’re paying no attention to him eating increasingly absurd portions. He even mentioned that he was getting full and you just nodded politely, a slightly vacant smile plastered to your face. You didn’t even try to touch his stomach, where it sat pressed up against the table.

Eventually, Sam manages to make his way over, whispering in Thor’s ear. You’re dimly aware that they’re talking about you, by the way Thor keeps glancing nervously in your direction.

“Let us go for a walk,” he said, standing up and tugging at your elbow. “Young Sam said that you look like you could do with some fresh air.”

Moving on autopilot you follow him, Geri and Freki loping along behind you. He leads you down to the beach, the sun setting in the distance as Thor gently maneuvers you into sitting down on a driftwood log.

“Are you quite alright?” Thor asked, running his fingers up your bare arms as he crouched awkwardly in front of you. “You seem distant, distracted.”

“This is all just very overwhelming,” you said, looking at your hands where they rested in your lap.

“I agree, much has happened today. We can return home, if you wish?”

“Why did you appoint me to the council?” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’ll still be here in ten years. What if we split up? I don’t belong here, I’m not Asgardian. I don’t want this responsibility, I’m not qualified, I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s heart sank and he let out a sad sigh, finally sitting on the soft sand, his hefty stomach making it hard to keep his balance while he crouched. He’d done it again. He’d thought only of what he wanted and hadn’t consulted you. He’d upset you, ruining your evening.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tipping your chin up to make you look at him. “That was thoughtless and selfish of me, I should have consulted you before announcing my plan. Today has been trying for you, and you were already anxious and upset. I’m truly sorry for burdening you further.”

“I know you didn’t mean to Thor, but I’m so scared and sad.”

“Oh my love, no. I really am such an oaf,” Thor said sadly, pulling you into the small amount of lap he had left. If he kept on like this, he was going to really struggle to hold you like this soon.

He wants to kiss your lips, to kiss away all the hurt and worry he sees in your eyes, to kiss it better like his mother used to kiss his and Loki's scrapes and grazes. But he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. All he can do is cuddle you while you cry, chest heaving against his, while he rubs little circles onto your back, mumbling apologies all the while.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you, to make you scared or anxious. I can see that I was mistaken, even though I only meant it as a good thing, as a compliment to your character and your intelligence. I truly know of no other in the whole of Asgard more capable than you, not even Brunnhilde,” Thor explained. “You are wise for one so young, and far more learned than any of us when it comes to this land we find ourselves in. Please, allow me to apologise unreservedly for the hurt I’ve caused. Allow me to make it right, allow me to pick another to serve in your place.”

You're so silent, shaking in his arms. It hurts Thor in a way he’s not felt since his father banished him. What if he's finally gone too far? What if this is the thing that pushes you away from him?

It scares him more than the thought of Thanos returning once more.

“A trial,” you said softly, as you raise your head.

“Pardon?” Thor asked.

“Until the end of the year, I will serve for a trial period. But if at the end of that time, I still don’t want to do it, then you must replace me, without any reservations.”

“Of course, of course. Are you absolutely sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I am willing to try. I trust you. I trust you not to force me into anything I can’t handle. I’m humbled that you and your people have accepted me, and are prepared to give me this chance. I know it’s a great honour. So I will try to repay that trust that you have, I will try to serve Asgard, even if it doesn’t come easily to me.”

“No one who seeks power or has it come easily to them should ever be allowed to wield it,” Thor noted, rubbing his nose against yours. “Thank you, my love for agreeing to try this. I will honour your request should you change your mind at any point. I admit, I was scared that I had lost you, that my foolishness had driven you away.”

“You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed wetly, wiping your face on the back of your hand.

“That’s good news, although I hope never to test that theory,” Thor told you, relieved. “Do you wish to return to the hall? I’m sure you could persuade me to have some more wine and sweet treats. As you can see, I am not quite at capacity,” Thor teased, moving your hands under his tunic to touch his taut tummy.

“I think I would like to head home. I’m emotionally exhausted and I just want to faceplant into your tummy and go to sleep.”

“Also an excellent plan,” Thor admitted, standing up with your still in his arms.

“I’m not too tired to walk,” you tried to insist, looking down at your bemused dogs as they trailed alongside the gentle giant carrying you.

“I know that, I just wanted to hold onto you some more.”

Thor’s going to be extra affectionate for the next little while, still reeling from the feeling of almost losing you. Now he finally has something to lose again, he’s resolutely determined not to let it happen.

@innerpaperexpertcloud @morganhoran1671

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