#all the awkward tags apply here

[sebbys-mama]

I was walking Sebastian and a guy at a stoplight called my name. I looked over and didn't recognize him.

"Hi!" He said cheerfully.

I go into self-preservation mode:

"Hey! How are you?"

We exchange pleasantries, then, luckily, the light turned green.

I still don't know who he was.

This will haunt me forever.

#awkward moments #sebbys mama #so awkward #awkward af #all the awkward tags apply here

[alfheimr]

My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

#process #art tutorial #unsure what else to tag this as. if this does not post properly i will cry.

[positively-mine]

You’re a girl?!

how they find out & they're reaction

tags: slightly ooc, afab, female anatomy, slight favouritism..., grammatical and punctuation errors 😔

a/n: rewatched Saiki k and so I've been procrastinating lately BUT YEA I GET TO WRITE SAIKI K NOW

Series: ❤️ 🧡 🩵 💛 💜 💙 💚

Silver

Sleeping beauty over here didn’t know until one fateful afternoon nap. First situation is when he’s napping in an unconventional area and out of sight. He hears people talking (this school and their problem of talking too loudly 😒) and he overhears this price of information. Secondly, (he's sharp but doesn't show it) and straight forward asks you. Like he has his suspicions but just wanted to make sure in case he makes you uncomfortable.

Does get slightly protective of you. He knows that you can handle yourself just fine but in case you ever get put into a difficult situation he will wake up from his slumber and help you.

Sebek

I want to say that he barges into your room over a range of reasons. Could be because he wants to talk about how amazing malleus is, scolding you for not appreciating said amazingness, or simply just because he wants to spend some quality time with his "friend". Whatever the reason, it causes him to forget about his manners and slams your door wide open. "Human! Listen to w-" and before he can even finish his sentence he's screaming and slamming the door shut.

"Stupid Human!" as one of malleus's guard, its important that he has fast reaction speed to protect his liege. That also became useful when you find your friend half naked and that they're also now a girl (?) the fast reaction speed does not apply to his head at all for this part.

This silly fool will avoid you. please confront him and do something about it because he's not even keeping it discrete. If he sees you down the corridor while hes walking with malleus he may not know it but he shifts his body to hide behind him a bit. Things will get better, just talk to him 😭 Once that's settled he does say things like "ofc as malleus's guard it is my duty to help those weaker around me!" not straight forward with his intentions but it's there at least.

Lilia

i feel like he would know it from the start. It's his old man senses tingling. Many long years of exisiting makes you gain the ability to just suddenly know about such information as well. That or either when hes hanging around trees and overhears you talking about your dilemma with Grim. But doesn’t say anything about it. He’ll wait till when you’re ready to tell him.

In the meantime though, he treats you as per normal. Except those few times where he purposely puts you on the spot to try and get you to tell him faster. He can be a bit impatient and whether you tell him now or later, he will get it out of you eventually.

Malleus

Might be biased with this one but precious pookie pie over here didn't know. He has to have some miracle happen before he finds out. Or Lilia tells him. Like maybe he overhears from the Adeuce duo about your situation or your suspicious behavior around others. He may not know customs outside of his but he can tell when you're feeling awkward. Asks Lilia about it.

Well he's not sure why you're hiding it but in whatever case he will help you. You're his child of man after all. He knows others are intimidated by him and he'll make use of it. Save for a few select others...

#silver x reader #sebek x reader #lilia x reader #malleus x reader #sebek zigvolt #lilia vanrouge #mallues draconia #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #diasomnia #diasomnia x reader #twisted wonderland #afab reader #afab!reader x twst

[projecttreehouse]

how to write convincing dialogue

did you know that show, not tell applies to dialogue, too? while dialogue can be used to further your narrative, it can also be used to showcase your characters. here's how:

-what is your character hiding? most people don't say things at face value. they hide what they mean within their words and tone, but in writing, you can't verbally hear the character's tone. ways to convey non-verbal tone include: contradictions between words and actions, context behind the words (ie. the scenario, character's actions and feelings), syntax (ie. fragments, repetition, awkward phrasing). also consider who the character is hiding information from: is it the reader? the characters? both?

-favorite words or phrases. does your character use a certain phrase or word a lot? do they often put their prepositions at the beginning or the end of the sentence? these are questions to ask when you're arranging the syntax of the dialogue. everyone has a specific way of talking. make sure you give each character a distinguishable voice.

-personality. this is how you can create a distinguishable voice. is your character confident? are they shy or hesitant? do they repeat the phases of others because they have nothing to add to the conversation? are they confrontational or do they beat around the bush? ask questions like these. if your character is confident, they may make bold statements and appear sure of themselves unlike shy characters who use words such as "maybe" or "should" or "think." to boil it down, think active wordage versus passive.

-observe others. don't look solely at television or other books. sit at your local coffee shop and listen in on conversations, then try and break it down. are they hiding anything? do they frequently use any words or phrases? how would you describe their personality? the better you get at breaking down conversations, the better you can create convincing ones, whether shallow, deep, or as a narrative device, because even if you use your dialogue to move your narrative along, it should still be compulsively convincing.

one way to tell if you've ticked all these boxes is if you can tell who is speaking without any tags.

happy writing! if you have any questions about how to implement any of these tips, our ask box is always open.

#writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #dialogue #writing tips #writing advice #writers of tumblr #writing help #writing resources #nanowrimo #novel writing #story writing #screenplay #creative writing #writers #writing tools #write it #books and novels #fiction

[proxima-writes]

title: my tears ricochet | part i

pairing: husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: chapter - t; full work - explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 7k

summary: after moving from new york to texas with your fiance, you expect to jump right into wedding planning with his help. when he claims to be too busy, he suggests asking his best friend, joel miller, to help you instead.

you weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

author's note: this story is a three part fic inspired by the song "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift. this first part is reader's POV, part two will be joel's POV, and the third part will be dual POV. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

chapter tags: modern au, infidelity, emotional abuse, the fiance is shitty, no use of y/n, single POV (reader), wedding dress shopping and other wedding planning activities, angst, arguing, alcohol consumption/mention, kissing, no smut. please let me know if i've missed any!

major work tags: modern au, infidelity, explicit sexual content, character death

You stare out at the manicured yard, watching as guests move about the grounds and waiters in black uniforms carry trays of food and drinks through the crowd. Your boyfriend -- wait, no, fiancé -- Alex laughs boisterously with your father, a hand on his back in easy familiarity. You know you should be down there with him given that this is your engagement party, but you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the constant smiling and greeting strangers and showing off your shiny new engagement ring that you needed a break.

The door opens and a man you don't recognize steps into the room, pale blue dress shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and a pair of wrinkled dress pants. He runs a hand through his messy dark curls.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be in here," he says. As he looks you over, his brown eyes go wide with surprise. "Shit, you're the bride!"

You smile at him. "That's me," you reply. You hold a hand out towards him as you give him your name, his rough palm sliding against yours as he grips it firmly.

"I'm Joel Miller," he tells you. You know the name well, being that he's your fiancé's best friend. "Didn't mean to make our first time meetin' so awkward."

"No, no, it's not your fault. I've just been feeling a little overwhelmed with all the," you wave your hand towards the window, "festivities. It's great to finally meet you."

"I don't blame ya. They can get pretty stuffy down there. Congrats, by the way."

"Thank you." He lets go of your hand. "So, why are you hiding?"

He laughs, deep and full bellied. "Alex's mom doesn't like me much. I'm sure she was hopin' that we would stop bein' friends when he went to school on the other side of the country, but I’m like a stubborn tick."

"How could she not like you, Alex told me that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten!"

"There may have been a few mishaps in high school," he says. "You ever tried eggin' your principal's house?"

"Can't say that I have," you reply.

"Well, it doesn't end well if you get caught." He looks out the window with a smile on his face. "We got arrested. Alex's dad had to bail us out. Probably had to throw some hush money around so that it wouldn't show up on his record when he applied to school."

"He's never told me that!" You say, laughing hard enough around the words that your stomach hurts.

The door opens and this time, Alex himself steps into the room. His serious expression morphs into a smile when he sees you and Joel.

"There you are," he says, crossing the room to kiss your cheek. He greets Joel with a hug, patting his back roughly. "What are you two doing in here?"

"I just needed a minute alone," you tell him.

"And I crashed her minute alone. Told her about the time we got arrested in high school," Joel adds. Alex's jaw tenses, his smile tight as his eyes flick to you, like he's worried about your reaction. "She laughed. It's all good."

"Right. Well, I came to find you because its time for the toast and dinner," Alex says. "Let's get back down to our guests."

A hand at the small of your back urges you towards the door before you can reply.

"Alex, are you listening to me?" You ask. Your fiancé looks up from his phone.

"I'm sorry, baby, I was finishing an e-mail," he says. He sets his phone down on the table, dark screen facing up, and gives you his full attention. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to schedule the cake tasting. Do you have any free time this week?"

He grimaces. "I don't think I do, sweetheart. Your dad's got my schedule pretty packed."

"I can just ask him to--"

"No," he says sternly. "You know I have to make a good impression with the rest of the firm."

"But--"

"Babe, no. I can't do this week. Why don't you ask my mom? Or Joel?"

While your future mother-in-law is kind enough, you don't have much patience for the way she tries to take control of your wedding planning. Joel, however, might be a good idea. He knows Alex well enough to be a stand in for a decision like cake and icing flavors.

"Could you give me Joel's number?"

Alex smiles, seemingly pleased that he's off the hook as he takes his phone in hand and sends you his best friend's phone number.

You meet Joel at the bakery that week. To your surprise he's there before you, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt and he smiles brightly at you as you approach.

"Hey," he says. "Ready to eat some cake?"

"I think this will be my favorite part of planning this whole wedding," you reply. He laughs as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, following in behind you.

"Welcome to Buttercup Bakery! Can I help y'all with anything?" A young woman with a name tag reading BEVERLY asks from behind the counter, pink and white apron tied around her waist.

"I have a cake tasting appointment," you reply, giving her your name for the reservation.

"Excellent! If you want to go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like, I'll bring out the tasting options and we'll get you squared away in no time!"

She disappears through swinging doors as you and Joel take a seat at a pink acrylic table with matching chairs. He looks around the shop with interest.

"What made you pick this place?" He asks.

"Had the best reviews," you say with a shrug. His brow furrows.

"Alex didn't suggest it? He helpin' you at all with this weddin'?"

He says it with a laugh, but the question makes you dig your fingernails into your palm. "He's just really busy with work. I've been doing a lot of the planning."

“What about your uh, what are they called? Bridesmaids?”

“They’re all back in New York. It’s just me.”

“I thought your parents were here, too? Isn’t Alex workin’ with your dad now?”

“It’s just my dad, he’s back in New York. His partner opened a firm in Austin and Alex is working with that office. He’s hoping to make partner soon, too.”

Joel nods, eyes scanning your face but you keep your expression as neutral as possible. The swinging doors open and Beverly returns with a marble tray, bites of cake artfully arranged on the surface. She sets it on the table between you and Joel.

“Okay! These are our six most popular flavor combinations for you to start with and if there’s something more custom you have in mind, we can totally make that happen,” she says. “Starting at the top, we have classic vanilla with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate buttercream, our signature champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon cake with lavender buttercream, caramel cake with caramel mocha buttercream, and white chocolate cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate raspberry buttercream.”

Joel grins at you. “This might be the best thing anyone has ever asked me to help with.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Beverly says with a wink, walking back to the counter.

“I don’t know which to start with,” you say, eyes scanning the selections.

“That chocolate one is callin’ my name,” Joel replies, spearing one of the chocolate cake bites with a fork and taking a bite. He hums appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that one is a winner.”

You choose the vanilla to start, taking a bite of the moist cake with buttercream that tastes strongly of vanilla bean with a hint of cinnamon. The simplicity makes it good, but overall the flavor doesn't stand out to you. Joel continues to take bites seemingly at random while you opt to go around the tray in the order that Beverly introduced the flavors.

"Any of them stickin' out to you?" Joel asks when you've reached the half-way point.

"They're all delicious," you reply. "I think Alex would probably like the vanilla best, though."

"I didn't ask what Alex would like, I asked if there were any that you liked." He spears the remaining piece of white chocolate raspberry with his fork and holds it up to you. "Here, try this one next."

You eye the fork dubiously. "I don't think--"

Joel slips the bite of cake into your mouth despite your interrupted disagreement, smiling at you triumphantly. You chew the bite begrudgingly.

"I think that one and the chocolate one are my favorite," Joel says as you swallow.

Beverly returns at that moment, a notepad in hand as she pulls up a third chair to the tiny bistro table.

“So? What are your thoughts?”

“I think I’m going to get the vanilla,” you tell her. Joel’s jaw ticks, almost like he’s upset you’ve chosen the flavor that you said Alex would like. “But, could I get alternating tiers of the white chocolate raspberry, too?”

Joel’s lips quirk up in a small smile and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

Joel: Have you picked flowers yet?

Not yet.

Joel: I know a place. You busy today?

You stare the at the message in surprise. You weren’t expecting to hear from Joel again, but his name on your screen has you fighting back a smile.

I’m not busy. When did you want to go?

Joel: They open at noon. Here’s the address.

“Baby, have you seen my blue tie?” Alex calls from upstairs. You drop your phone to the counter like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Which one?” You reply, pressing a hand to your chest.

“The plaid one!”

“Should be in your tie drawer!”

“It’s not here!”

You pinch your nose, making your way to the stairs to join him in your shared bedroom. He’s standing in front of his tie drawer, hands on his hips as he stares at the contents. You peek over his shoulder and reach into the back, pulling out the neatly folded blue and green patterned tie.

He takes it from your hand. “That one should be towards the front. Can you remember that next time you put away dry cleaning?”

“Sure.” You bite your lip to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill. “You want me to tie it for you?”

“No, thanks, I need it to be perfect. Big meeting,” he says, his lips tilted in a smile that feels condescending. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you murmur, watching his back as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Joel is waiting outside of a dark green storefront when you arrive at the address he’d sent you. He smiles when he sees you, a true one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and it gives you this strange feeling of emptiness because you can’t remember the last time Alex smiled at you like that.

When you’re close enough, he pulls you into a hug that envelops you in strong arms and the scent of woods at nightfall with a hint of citrus. Your eyes flutter shut as you hug him back and breathe him in.

He releases you and immediately you feel a chill in losing his warmth despite the oppressive Texas heat. You look at the shop as he steps back, taking in the gorgeous floral arrangements in the window and cursive script painted on the glass that says PETAL TO THE METAL.

Joel opens the door to the shop, a brass bell ringing to announce your entrance. A man at the counter in the center of the store looks up and grins at you both.

“Joel! Nice to see you,” the man says. You watch as they shake hands with familiarity, the man behind the counter smiling kindly. “You must be the bride. I’m Frank.”

You give Joel a look of surprise before introducing yourself and shaking Frank’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”

“Joel’s an old friend of ours.”

“Ours?”

A back door bangs open, someone emerging with their arms so full of potted plants you can’t see their face. A deep voice let’s out a series of curses.

“This is my partner, Bill,” Frank says. “He’s not much of a people person. Great with plants, though.”

“A little help would be nice,” Bill grunts. Frank rolls his eyes but leaves the counter to take a couple pots from Bill’s hands, revealing a man with long brown hair and a grizzled expression hidden amongst a thick beard. Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.

“You need only ask,” Frank says. Bill’s cheeks turn pink beneath his thick facial hair. Despite the annoyed expression on his face, his eyes are soft as he watches Frank. “Let me grab you the event portfolio and we can talk about your wedding. Have a look around.”

As Frank leaves and Bill busies himself arranging the new plants, you and Joel wander the shop and take in aisles and shelves of different flowers with little gold name cards in their pots or on their buckets.

“So,” Joel says, “How are you liking Austin?”

“It’s…hot,” you reply. “Really, really hot.”

“That’s the south for ya, sweetheart.”

Your face grows hot at the endearment and how it seemed to just roll off his tongue. “Have you lived in Austin your whole life?”

“Texas born n’ bred,” he says proudly, puffing his chest out.

“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”

“I’ve always thought Wyoming sounded nice. A farm that I built, some sheep, no neighbors for miles,” he says wistfully. “Maybe someday.”

“Building a farm, huh? You good with your hands, Joel?”

He blinks at you. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m a contractor. I gotta be.”

“That’s impressive,” you tell him, biting your lip to hold back your laughter at his flustered response.

Frank approaches, lifting a heavy book in his hands. “You ready to pick some flowers?”

Joel holds the door open for you as the two of you leave the flower shop an hour later. He waves goodbye to Bill and Frank with a promise to visit them for dinner soon before following you down the sidewalk.

“You wanna get lunch?” Joel offers. “My treat.”

You pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages and finding none from Alex, you think to yourself, why not?

“Sure,” you agree.

That's how you find yourself sitting on a bench in the park with Joel Miller, your husband's best friend, talking to him about everything and nothing as you eat street tacos from a food truck nearby. He makes you laugh so hard you choke on birria, the sauce dripping down your chin. He reaches out, wiping the mess with a brown napkin while he smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame.

Later that night, while you're in bed, you can't help but think today was the best day you've had in a long time.

And you're not sure what that means.

You begin texting Joel regularly. You ask him for his opinion on things that Alex can’t be bothered with — the suit colors for the groomsmen (navy blue), the invitation stationary (the linen finish), and favors (miniature bottles of hot sauce - Joel assures you this will be a hit with the Texas crowd). In between those conversations, he sends you pictures from his construction sites or asks you how your day has been and whether you had gotten the chance to check out that show he recommended.

When you tell Alex about the wedding decisions you've made, leaving out the extent of Joel's help, he hums and nods at the appropriate intervals, feigning attentiveness while his thumb moves rapidly across his phone screen. It should bother you, you think, that your future husband is so uninvolved with planning his own wedding, but then your own phone lights up with Joel’s name and a goofy photo he sent from a construction site, his hard hat askew on his head and his eyes crossed, and your annoyance with Alex fades into background noise.

There’s one last item on your checklist that you’re more nervous to ask Joel for help with than the others — dress shopping. You could probably fly back to New York and be with your friends for the momentous occasion but you’re certain that Alex wouldn’t appreciate your absence for something he considers so frivolous.

Not that you say anything when he’s gone for his golfing trips.

You’re staring at Joel’s contact screen, working up the nerve to call him and ask him if he’d be willing to come dress shopping with you, when it lights up with an incoming call, his name at the top of the screen like just your thoughts summoned him. You answer on the third ring.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you tell him.

“So that’s why my ears were itchin’,” he laughs. “You need somethin’?”

You take a steadying breath. “I just have one more thing I need help with and then you won’t have to deal with me.”

“I don’t mind helpin’ you, sweetheart.” You stomach flutters at the nickname and he clears his throat to fill the loaded silence that follows his words. “Now, tell me what you need.”

“Could you come dress shopping with me?”

“That all? Just tell me where and when,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief, giving him the details of the appointment you made at a local boutique. He promises to meet you there this weekend before hanging up.

The word sweetheart in Joel’s deep voice echoes through your mind for the rest of the day.

Joel looks hilariously out of place on the pristine white couch located in the middle of the dress boutique, a dainty glass of champagne held in his large hand. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you watch the sales associate flit around the store, pulling hangers of dresses from the racks.

“That’s a lot of dresses,” Joel comments, taking a sip of champagne.

“You not up for the challenge?” You tease. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile.

“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge. We’re goin’ to find you the best damn weddin’ dress Texas has ever seen,” he promises.

“Alright, I’ve got some gorgeous choices here for you,” the associate announces, holding up a handful of ivory hangers draped in all types of fabric from satin to chiffon. “You wanna follow me and we’ll get started?”

You follow her to the fitting room and she sets the hangers on a rack, fanning out the dresses so that you can get a better look. There’s five of them in a variety of styles, including an impressive ball gown boasting layers of tulle that trails to the floor.

“I’ll try that one first,” you tell her, pointing to ball gown.

“What’s your fiancé’s name?” She asks as you undress, taking the gown from the hanger and arranging it on the floor for you to step into it.

“Alex,” you reply. She drags the bodice up and instructs you to hold it to your chest while she laces up the corset back.

“I think it’s sweet that you’ve brought him with you.”

“Oh, no. That’s Joel, he’s my husband’s best friend.”

“Really?” She asks, the strings tightening around your waist. “The way you two look at each other, I would have bet money he was the one marrying you." You're about to ask what she means when she finishes tying off the bodice and says, "Wow, this dress is stunning on you."

Her comment retreats to the back of your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror. The strapless white gown hugs your chest and waist, flaring out into a layered skirt with lace appliques. There's beading on the sweetheart neckline that trails down the bodice in intricate patterns that catch the light of the fitting room. The dress is stunning.

Marnie leads you back out to the showroom, helping you step up onto a raised platform in front of a trifold mirror that shows you your reflection from multiple angles. You twist and turn, taking in all the details of it before finally facing Joel.

"Damn," Joel says. "That sure is one hell of a dress."

"It's...a lot." You twist your hips from side to side, the heavy skirt swishing across the floor. "I feel like a cupcake and I don't know if I'll be able to dance in it."

"You wanna test it out?"

He's standing before you can respond, reaching a hand into yours to guide you down from the pedestal. When you're on the floor, he wraps an arm around your low back, pulling you close while swaying side to side.

The world around you goes a little blurry and the only thing in perfect clarity is Joel. The feel of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm at the small of your back, the clean smell of soap and citrus, everything is just....Joel.

"How's it feel?" He asks, voice low. You tilt your head back to look up at his face.

"Huh?"

"The dress...dancin'...how's it feel?"

The question drags you back to reality, where you're currently dancing around a bridal salon with a man who isn't your fiance. You pull away from him, returning to the pedestal as the bridal associate joins the two of you again.

"Uh...I don't think this is the dress for me. Can we try the next one?"

You try on two other dresses in quick succession, neither of them leaving a lasting impression. It's the fourth dress that really gives you pause as you look at yourself in the fitting room mirror.

"Honey," the associate says, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the dress, "This dress was made for you."

The scooped neckline highlights the lines and curves of your neck and shoulders, the corset bodice hugging your curves in satin folds. The skirt fans out from the waist, similar to the silhouette of the ball gown without all the additional weight and fabric and a thigh high slit allows for some extra movement.

She leads you back out into the showroom and helps you once more onto the pedestal. You grin at your reflection as she fixes the skirt into place.

"Well?" You ask, catching Joel's eye in the mirror. His mouth is set in a serious line, brows pinched together and his arms crossed over his chest. You own smile falters. "You don't like it? What's with the look?"

He shakes his head, his serious expression morphing into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You look..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Alex is a lucky son of a bitch."

You laugh, lifting the skirt so that you can step off the pedestal. Joel's eyes drop, his gaze fixing on the skirt as you walk towards him.

"You think so?" You ask quietly, stepping in close.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs. A single finger runs down your arm, goosebumps erupting over your skin in its wake. "I know so."

With the wedding plans finalized, your attention returns to your work as a web design consultant. Your client portfolio starts to build once more, keeping you busy in the months leading up to your big day. Alex remains focused on his work at the firm, working long days and longer nights that have him arriving home well after you've gone to bed, the two of you just ships passing in the dark. You would feel lonely, you think, if not for Joel.

The two of you still message each other frequently, though you don't see him again until a month before the wedding, when Alex invites him over for dinner one Saturday night.

The doorbell rings just as you put the chicken in the oven and you wipe your hands before going to answer it, your heart racing. Joel's sweet smile greets you when you open the door and seeing him across the threshold has the tension in your shoulders easing the slightest bit.

He steps across the threshold, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. Footsteps on the stairs have him releasing you far sooner than you would have liked.

"Joel, my man! Glad you could make it," Alex says as he reaches the first floor. "Honey, is the table set?"

"No, not yet," you reply.

"You need any help?" Joel asks. You open your mouth to respond, but Alex jumps in to say, "No, she's got this. Let me give you the tour."

You watch as Alex leads Joel upstairs, commanding his friend's attention. You swallow down the anger that rises in your throat at your fiancé's dismissal and return to the kitchen, gathering the place settings and arranging the table to his liking.

"It's a nice place," Joel says as the two men enter the living room, which opens to the kitchen and dining areas.

"All that work finally paying off," Alex comments. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to mention that you were the one who fronted the down payment for Alex's choice of home in Texas. The oven beeps and you pull out the chicken parmesan that had been baking.

"Smells good," Joel comments. You look up, catching his eye. A wordless understanding passes between you, a quiet appreciation that makes your blood run hot.

You plate the food while your fiancé uncorks a bottle of wine and pours it into the wine glasses at each place setting. Alex settles in at head of the table and Joel takes the seat to the left, leaving you with the seat to Alex's right, across from Joel.

The three of you make small talk between bites of dinner and sips of wine. Alex asks Joel about the contracting work he's been doing, Joel asks him about his work at the new office and how he's settling in, being back in his home state. It's halfway through dinner that Joel looks to you and asks, "Are you excited for the wedding next month?"

"Of course," you reply, fingers tangling in the cloth napkin resting across your lap. "Planning it was a labor of love."

"Right, thanks for helping her with the cake, man," Alex chimes in.

Joel chuckles. "Helped with a lot more than just the cake."

"What do you mean?" Alex asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Well, I helped get the flowers, the cake, pickin' out the stationary. Dress shoppin'," Joel clarifies. Your stomach drops as Alex's jaw grows tense, his brow pinched as he nods and pastes on a forced smile.

"Wow, I didn't realize you'd been so involved," Alex says. He removes the napkin from his lap, setting it on the table. "Would you excuse us for a second?"

Alex stands, looking down at you expectantly. You smile at him and Joel in turn, but the expression feels hollow and you taste bile in the back of your throat. As soon as you're on your feet, Alex has a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, urging you along behind him as he makes his way towards the stairs.

Once he's reached your shared bedroom, he turns to you, eyes filled with rage. “What the fuck is that about?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor.

“He helped you pick out your dress?” Alex paces the length of the bedroom like a caged animal and for the first time in your relationship with him, a frisson of fear courses through your veins. “You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “You told me to ask him for his help!”

“With the cake!” Alex shouts. “Not the entire goddamn wedding! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“You weren’t exactly offering much help, Alex!”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you would be perfectly capable of planning shit on your own, but I guess that was giving you too much credit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole right now?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, not Joel’s!” He steps in close, towering above you as he hisses, “Did you fuck him?”

“No!” You shout.

His eyes search yours and whatever he finds seems to extinguish his anger, his coiled muscles loosening. He grips your shoulders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you head back downstairs and I’ll stay up here for a minute to cool off, okay?”

The sudden switch leaves your head spinning but you manage to nod. Alex kisses your forehead and you take that as your cue to leave, escaping the confines of your room. In the hall, you grip the banister of the loft that overlooks the living room and take the first real breath in what feels like ages, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to calm your racing heart.

You return to the kitchen and Joel’s head snaps up when you enter. He rises from his seat at the table, rushing to your side.

“Are you okay?” He asks, low voice filled with concern, his brows pinched with worry. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” you murmur, pushing past him.

“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “Is he always like that?”

“Like what?” You sigh.

“An asshole. Yellin’ and threatenin’ you.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “He ever hit you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You take a deep breath, beating back the wave of tears pressing at the corners of your eyes. “He’s just got a lot going on with the move and work and the wedding.”

Joel is quiet, watching you with keen brown eyes that you, for once, wish weren’t focused on you. He steps close, voice low as he says, “Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you tell him. The lie claws at your throat and sends your stomach into a tailspin. “I promise.”

Footsteps echo on the stairs and you step away from Joel, busying yourself with loading the dishwasher, clearing the counters, anything to keep your hands occupied and stop their shaking. Alex enters the kitchen with a sharp smile.

“Hey, man, sorry about that,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “I think we’re ready to call it a night. Ain’t that right, honey?”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Alex as you smile and say, “Yeah, baby.”

“Let me walk you out, Joel,” Alex says. “Honey, say bye.”

“Goodbye, Joel.”

Joel: Hey

Joel: You having a good week?

Joel: Been a while. You doing okay?

Joel: You’ve been quiet

Joel: I need to know you’re okay.

Joel: Just let me know

Joel: Please

“Just two more days until you’re my wife,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiles at you and you mirror the expression as best you can.

“I can't wait,” you reply.

"I gotta get going," Alex says. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes where you're sitting at the bar. "Love you."

"Love you," you repeat, out of reflex more than affection.

The front door slams shut and quiet settles over the house. All you want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head in the hopes that it protects you from the way time continues to creep forward despite your uncertainties. Maybe, if you lay there long enough, time will move on without your involvement.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. You’re not sure who it could be — your dad is scheduled to fly into town in the late afternoon and your friends arrive early tomorrow morning and you’re fairly certain you don’t have any deliveries scheduled. Sliding from the bar stool, you leave the kitchen to answer the door.

Joel stands on the other side of the threshold, haloed by the morning sun. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask.

“Can I come in?” He replies, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need to talk to you.”

You step aside and allow him to enter the hallway, shutting the door behind him. You avoid his gaze as you return to the living room with him following behind you. The silence that settles between the two of you makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Why haven't you been talkin' to me?" Joel asks. He takes a step closer, brown eyes searching yours for an answer you try to keep hidden.

"I've been busy," you say.

"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, surprising you. "Is it because of what happened at dinner?"

"No," you reply. Joel must sense the brief hesitation, hear the weakness in your voice. His eyes go soft, full of pity, and you can't fucking stand it. "Don't look at me like that."

"Look, I've known Alex a long time, and all those years weren't exactly peachy," he says cryptically. "I love him like a brother but even family ain't without faults.” He steps in close, his hands cradling your face in a delicate grip. “Tell me this is what you want," he demands. "Tell me that you're happy with Alex. Tell me that there's nothin' here between us."

The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue, but nothing can bring them to life. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribcage, the rush of blood in your ears the only thing you can hear. He leans closer, eyes dropping to your lips and you know what's about to happen next but you can't bear the thought of stopping him as he closes the scant distance between your mouths.

For the briefest moment, you allow yourself the chance to just feel. No thoughts, no panic, no worry. Just Joel's warm lips moving against yours, the trace of his palm from you cheek to behind your head, pulling you closer even though you're already tightly pressed to him. It's slow and deep, like he's trying to convince you down to your marrow that this is where you're supposed to be.

But it's not.

You push him away and he doesn't fight you, but the look he gives you damn near shatters your resolve. His eyes are dark, jaw tense, hands flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back, damn the consequences. Your eyes and throat burn with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill.

"You need to leave," you whisper. "You can't do this, we can't do this. I'm getting married in two days, Joel!"

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on the strands in frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lay awake at night thinkin' what a fuckin' asshole I am for fallin' in love with my best friend's fiancé?!" He shouts.

"This isn't love, Joel--"

"Don't," he snaps. "Don't you lie to me. I know it, you know it, hell, the fuckin' lady at the dress shop knew it!" He takes a deep breath. "I'm showin' you my whole hand here and you won't even lay down a goddamn card!"

"There is no card!" You shout.

"You kissed me back!" He counters.

You stare at each other for a long moment, like two scared, wounded animals. Eventually, one of you has to back down, retreat, lick their wounds until they've healed in a messy pattern of scar tissue that will serve as a painful reminder of what could have been.

Joel sighs, another pass of his hand through his hair as he says, "You know what? Fine." He turns to leave, the line of his shoulder lower, his head low.

A glutton for punishment, you call out, "Joel?"

"Yeah?" He asks, weary. Bone tired. You feel it, too.

"Will you still be there tomorrow?" You ask, unsure of which answer would be worse.

Another sigh. "Yeah. I'll be there."

The door slams shut behind him.

Your rehearsal dinner is torture.

This should be one of the happiest events of your life but all your energy is being directed at avoiding Joel like the plague. He moves through the crowd comfortably, having known many people in attendance for most of his life, and you feel like an unmoored boat, hoping a wave doesn't crash over you.

Alex sits beside you, drinking from a glass of whiskey as he talks to one of his uncles that has been praising him for landing the opportunity to work with such a prestigious law firm right after college. A dizzying rotation of people approach you through the night - friends who chatter excitedly about the big day tomorrow, aunts who ask when you think you'll have children, uncles who tell you that they're proud of you for landing such a successful, promising young man. It's those last comments that have you hiding a frown in your champagne glass.

It drags on forever, this constant stream of polite conversation and forced smiles. When you finally return to the hotel that you're staying at for the night, you start to feel like you can breathe again. You have a suite separate from Alex's for getting ready early in the morning and he walks you to your room, hand on your low back, a smile on his face.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "My almost wife."

The sentiment has bile rising in your throat and as he turns to leave you're blurting the words, "I can't do this."

"Sweetheart, you're just nervous," he says, voice surprisingly calm. He squeezes your shoulders. "You just need to sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning."

"No," you tell him, shaking your head. "No, it won't be fine."

His smile drops, like a mask has just been removed. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine at the rehearsal."

"Everything was not fine at the rehearsal!"

Alex takes the room key from your hands, unlocked the door and ushering you inside. He flicks on the light to the sitting area and takes a seat on the couch.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, exasperation dripping from his words. "What do you mean the rehearsal wasn't fine? Did you not like the food or something?"

You stare at him incredulously. "The problem wasn't the food, Alex! The problem is us!"

"There's no problem with us," he says. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He stands, coming close. "Is this about Joel?"

"No!" You snap, perhaps too quickly. "This isn't about Joel."

"Then what is it? Because as far as I know, we're a perfectly happy couple."

"Perfectly happy? Alex, you didn't even help me plan this wedding. Not a single minute of it."

"Not this again," he groans. "Sweetheart, let it go. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear?"

Your jaw aches with how hard your teeth grind together as he dismisses you so easily. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth steadies you enough to say, "I'm not marrying you."

"Baby, please," Alex says. For the first time, he sounds panicked. "Don't make any rash decisions, alright? Whatever this is, we can work through it. If I lose you, I lose everything."

Maybe he's right. Maybe the stress of the last few months has just caught up to you.

"Okay," you whisper. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses another kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he says. "Everything will be okay after tomorrow. You'll see."

You don't say anything back, and he doesn't wait around for a response. He leaves your suite, the click of the door shutting loud in the late night silence. You stand there for who knows how long, wondering if he's right. Would everything be alright after tomorrow? Could you sweep those lingering feelings for Joel to the side in favor of the life you'd been building for the last few years?

You know what the safe choice is, but is it the right choice?

It's the morning of your wedding day and you've been poked and prodded with makeup brushes and your hair has been perfectly styled for the occasion. Flashbulbs have been going off on the cameras that are documenting your special day, capturing moments like your bridesmaids helping you into your dress and your dad's first look, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he smiled at you.

For the first time in hours, you're alone in your suite. The makeup artist and hair stylists have packed up and taken their leave and your friends are downstairs, waiting for the limousine. You told them you would be just a minute longer.

A soft knock at your door has you realizing that you may have taken too long and you shout an apology as you rush to answer it. But it's not one of your friends on the other side like you had expected.

It's Joel.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His hair is styled, curls smoothed and slicked back into submission. His white shirt is a stark contrast to his navy blue tuxedo, matching bow tie tight around his neck. His boutonnière is slightly crooked where it sits pinned to his jacket lapel. He looks you up and down with a small smile.

"You look beautiful," he says. He reaches for your hand, fingers tangling with yours. Never quite folding together, but never quite letting go, either.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Are you ready?" He asks. You wonder if he knows, if Alex told him or if he can just see it on your face.

"Yes."

It's a lie, one you've been repeating since your alarm went off this morning after a night of tossing and turning. His smile falters, but doesn't drop.

"Good, that's....good," he says. His hand leaves yours, and you feel like you've had an entire unspoken conversation that's left you both defeated. "Lets go get you married."

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

divider graphic by @saradika-graphics.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic

[writingwithcolor]

How do I respectfully discuss the topic of diversity with a co-author, as well as assigning a race to an “ambiguous” character?

Anonymous asked:

My co-author and I, for context, are both white and in highschool. For the main cast of our story, each of us ended up creating three characters. All three of her characters were white. Two of mine were white as well, alongside one character who is ambiguously brown-skinned. Do you have any advice on respectfully bringing up the subject of diversity to a co-author, even if it means potentially changing our established characters? Additionally, do you have any advice on retroactively assigning a race/culture to a character? I now understand after reading this blog that “ambiguously brown” characters should be avoided, but I did not when initially creating him. I worry that I could fall into stereotypes— while portrayed positively, he’s somewhat of a “nerd” archetype. But I don’t want to whitewash him either.

“Hey, why’d you think we made a mostly all-white cast?”

In other words: Just be normal about it. As you yourself note, you also didn’t exactly put a great deal of thought into the racial/ ethnic identity for your single brown character either, so it’s not just about your writing partner. This is about how you guys like to create as a team, and what sources of inspiration you both tend to gravitate towards. If a pair of high school students who write together can’t have a chill conversation about the races of the characters they are creating, then I’d worry more for their dynamic as a creative team. Discussions of race are only as weird and awkward as people decide to make them, and that’s often framed by the baggage each person is bringing into the conversation.

Whether or not you change the characters is up to you.

“Diversity is a marathon, not a sprint!”

Write diverse characters when and because you want to. I think the push for diversity is best when it’s self-motivated. Strangers on the internet telling you to do something is definitely not the reason to do it. I’ll note the same applies IRL. Otherwise, you’re changing your behavior for the sake of peer pressure. Writing groups on the internet like our blog do not exist to sit in judgment of your work. These are venues to discuss, critique and receive feedback, but the final choice always rests with you.

There’s not enough info for me to tell if the experience of whiteness is so intrinsic to your characters that changing their race will alter them greatly. I would argue the same for gender and sexual identity. Sometimes, changing dimensions of a character’s identity alters a lot about who they are. Other times, particularly if the character is not thoroughly fleshed out, changing their race only adds to their characterization. Only you can say which scenario applies here.

Other mods have written on how to handle your dilemma of “white as default” in an earlier post available here. Please explore our #POC Profiles for more inspiration. 

Your third paragraph can be answered by re-reading all 3 sections of the FAQ and exploring our archives using the tags. 

Marika.

#creator responsibility #white #white as default #characters #diversity #asks #representation #writeblr

[artemisgrayy]

Your Unlikely Hero (pt. 2) [Alastor x Reader]

Read Part 1 here

✨ Masterlist ✨

18+ - Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: Alastor x Reader, Fem!reader, more fluff than Angel Dust's chest, Ace Alastor, Awkward Alastor, Soft Alastor, trauma

[Artist source ^ ✨]

--

Flashes of chaos invade the darkness that envelopes you. Like a radio fighting to find a signal underground, the glimpses you’re awarded are muddled and fleeting.

“Will she be-”

Darkness.

“Quick grab the-”

Darkness.

“-re losing her.”

More darkness.

You hear screaming. Is it your scream? All you can focus on is the pain ripping through you like a tidal wave as if someone lit a whole stack of fireworks on your leg.

Another scream. You’re positive that one came from you. As soon you feel the pressure applied to the wound you instinctively thrash around.

The darkness swallows you whole.

***

You awake with a start.

The first thing you notice is the pain. While not as intense as before, you can still feel the aching pulse in your thigh with every minuscule movement. You lift the sheet and breathe a sigh of relief when you see your leg is still there, wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage. You reach out to touch it, wincing at even the slightest pressure. Releasing the sheet, you sink your aching head back into the pillow of what you realize is a guest room at the hotel.

The smell of disinfectants is almost suffocating, stinging your already heavy-lidded eyes as you look around. The room is dark, save for the segments of light cutting across the crimson carpet from the window. You notice the collection of pill bottles scattered on the nightstand beside you, the IV bag hooked into your arm to the right of it. Red wallpaper, delicately laced with apple-shaped gold detail covers the walls. Pillows are strewn across the floor, pools of blood surround and paint over them.

Everything is quiet. Dead quiet.

Your thoughts spin furiously as you attempt to recount the events that transpired. You feel your eyebrows furrow when you start with the closest memory. You remember Alastor displaying affection in a way you had never seen before. A way you never thought he was capable of.

Did you dream that? No, you distinctly remember the warmth of his forehead on yours and the feeling of his breath across your face. Your heart flip flops at the memory, and your cheeks burn, forcing a smile across your face. The movement of those muscles draws your attention to the ache around your throat. You wince instinctively and delicately brush your fingertips across the skin of your neck when you feel the raised hand-shaped mark.

Your stomach drops. The memory of their cause becomes clear as day.

You remember the look in Adam’s eye — the hungry, maniacal look of entitlement as his gaze swallowed you whole, moments before he planned to claim your body as his toy.

Your chest constricts, tears covering your eyes in a warm haze — the soul-crushing realization of what could have transpired sinking in. You almost lost everything. When the first tear escapes, the air around you suddenly goes ice cold. Thick blankets of shadow laced with the familiar emerald electrical storm ascend through the floor and take the shape of the Radio Demon.

The look of pure devastation soaked in Alastor’s eyes contrasts with his permanent, sinister smile. His eyebrows knit together, desolation soaks through the ruby-red glow of his eyes. Despite this, he doesn’t move. His body language suggests his urge to step forward, but he remains motionless.

You can’t stop the guttural sobs that follow when you’re enveloped in his presence. You’re reminded of the safety you felt cradled in his arms when your world nearly collapsed around you.

“I.. I thought,” You whimper through stuttered gasps, “he almost-”

Every sob that escapes your aching throat burns as if the grip that previously held it firm never released its hold. That was enough for Alastor to move, the shadows morphing into a trail leading to the spot beside you. He’s on his side, one hand supporting his head while the other awkwardly reaches out, his clawed fingers combing through your tangled hair as you crumble beneath his touch.

“I wanted to wrench his soul from his body with my bare hands,” begins the demon, disdain saturating his radio-filtered voice, “Nothing would have brought me more joy than to broadcast his terrified screams to all of Pentagram city for the appalling behaviour that disrespectful wretch displayed towards you, my doe.” Darkness invades his gaze, a terrifying murderous expression haunting his face.

“Why did you-” you begin hacking, the dryness of your throat preventing you from finishing your question. Searing pain fires through every nerve as your body convulses. Alastor’s demeanor snaps back to normal, concern taking over his features. He raises his hand, materializing a glass of water, and hands it to you. The coolness coats your throat as you furiously chug the liquid allowing you to steady your breathing. “Why did you come for me?” you finally manage to get out, turning your head towards Alastor. Your noses nearly touch and the familiar feeling of his breath skirts across your face.

“Well darling, you were in trouble.”

“A lot of people were in trouble. I could hear the screams from the roof of the hotel.”

He ponders that for a moment, his eyes narrowing while he chews over his words.

“The thought of losing you was one I couldn’t fathom.” Alastor finally spits out reluctantly, his eyes shifting away from yours, “and unfortunately I didn’t realize that until the moment you were almost taken from me.”

Silence follows as you watch him sink deep into his thoughts. The glow of his eyes dim, the saturation draining from them. You carefully reach out, ignoring the stinging caused by every movement you make. He recoils slightly, and you pause, carefully inspecting his body language before you push forward. You run your fingers through his crimson hair, gently brushing it away from his face, and his eyes find yours again.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, pushing your forehead against his.

You feel his claws wrap around the back of your head, clutching a fistful of hair as he pulls you into an embrace. His teeth gently graze against your neck and the smell of pine invades your senses as he holds you against him. A breath escapes your lips against his ear, your body suddenly craving him, and you suck your lip between your teeth.

“Careful darling,” Alastor whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending a flurry of goosebumps across your neck, “you may be alive, but you have quite the road to recovery ahead of you.”

He pulls away and looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, his sinful gaze lapping you up as you melt beneath his touch. Disregarding his warning you push your face forward, hopeful to get a taste of him, but the motion causes a painful reminder of the trauma to fire through your broken body. You cry out, tears misting your eyes.

He chuckles at your attempt, “Tasty.”

You scowl at his remark and collapse into your pillow groaning.

“I best be off, you need to rest, my doe. Don’t hesitate to summon me if you need anything.” he taps your nose before melting into his shadow form. “I’ll be remembering that promise of yours. You best keep it.”

Something has changed with him, and you find yourself overwhelmed with intrigue as he disappears through the floor of the room. His last words echo through your head:

“I’ll be remembering that promise of yours. You best keep it”

It wasn’t a request.

---

Gosh I love writing Alastor, and your prompts have been fueling me so thank you! Let me know what you think of this continuation 👀

Writing has been a bit more sporadic with real life stuff going on! I'm working through the requests as we speak 💖

--

✨ Master list ✨

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #alastor fanfiction #alastor is in hell for a reason #soft alastor #alastor x reader #alastor altruist #alastor & reader

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

+1 Chance | Short/Oneshot

In which some people get an extra life.

Tags/Warnings: pro Esports!Kook, Teenage crushes to ???, SFW, Short, Open ending, all around fluffy

Length: 2.2k Words

A/N: Yes I'm still writing on existing stuff dw. Just a random valentines day drabble. Not proofread.

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—

You met Jungkook in summer, many years ago, when the sun was hot and your friends turned out to be nothing but situationships.

You’d been seeing the hints of their friendship not being of honest nature for a while now- but as a young girl barely about to graduate a year later, you didn’t want to be alone during your allegedly best years of your life. So you ignored the warnings one after another, always found excuses as to why their behavior was totally justifiable and normal, even if deep down you knew that you were just trying to convince yourself of that.

And then, you met him- a guy showing you honest kindness for nothing asked in return.

It was hot, sun burning, and you’d tried to get out the pool- but your small strawberry floaty had kept slipping from underneath you, making it hard to find the strength to get out of the large pool in your ‘friend’s’ backyard by yourself- when suddenly, a hand had grabbed the red item to keep it still, so you could properly hold onto it for a moment.

“Here- let me help.” He’d said, black nail polish chipped. And you’d taken on the help, too tired to really care about the fact that your friend had told you to just ignore her brother’s ‘weirdo friends’- him clearly being one of them. “Want me to help you get out? The sun is pretty hot right now, you should get out soon.” He had worried a little, and you'd nodded, pushing yourself up on the ledge after having let go of the floaty, finally having been able to escape the pool with his help, as he made sure you wouldn’t slip or end up back inside because of your strength leaving you.

You weren’t sure back then where your friends even were at that point. But somehow, it was like a moment of realization- a clear sign you couldn’t ignore any longer. “your uh.. friends went to watch a movie upstairs now, in Kate’s room..” he says, watching you sit down in the shade, drying yourself with a towel you brought.

“..thanks.” you’d mumbled. “I.. Probably should go home now.” You’d shrugged, feeling ashamed and embarrassed to ever having trusted these people at all. All they did was use your kindness and clear need for just someone to talk to and befriend- and you’d willingly accepted that, blinded by the glimpses of happiness they’d made you feel every now and then.

They knew how to manipulate you- keep you happy and clingy enough with occasional treats never given too often.

“I mean.. I can drive you. It’s late.” Jungkook had offered you. “But we’re also missing a fourth player for mario-cart right now, down in Kate’s brother’s room.” He’d jokingly told you- something that had given you hope.

“..but won’t it be weird?” You’d worried. “They don’t know me.”

“Well, everyone’s a stranger when you first meet them.” Jungkook had laughed, as he gave you a towel from close by, both of you having slowly walked back into the house. “I’m Jungkook. Just in case you didn’t know. “ He’d introduced himself, smiling like he’s the sun itself.

And little did you know that on that day, as you gave him your name, you both also set the foundation for much more than just a friendship.

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—

“So you two have history?” Your friend asks, sitting across from you on your hotel room floor, both of you occupied with making sure your freshly applied nail polish dries well. You’re on a weekend trip for just the two of you, to take some time off the stressful life and to nourish your friendship a little.

“Not really.” You shrug. “I wouldn’t call it that. More so.. An awkward friendship when I was younger, before I moved away.” You answer, explaining your situation as to why Jeon Jungkook, one of the current top e-sports players had greeted you when you randomly ran into each other today in the hotel hallway.

“Oh, so he was the guy you had a crush on when you were younger?” She teases, never forgetting anything it seems like- not even a random confession during a childish game of never-have-I-ever. “I knew it. Damn, you were so close! Imagine your life if you’d bagged that guy.” She swoons, having made it known time and time again that she wouldn’t pass up any opportunity to ‘get her hands on those abs’ if she ever had the chance to do so. You know this is simply a joke, but still, her words do make you think.

How would your life have turned out if you got with him?

Would he have chosen to go against his parents’ advice to just keep his hobby as, well, a hobby, or would he have accepted their wishes to instead study something more steady, to earn a position in a stable company? You’ll never know- but despite that, its still interesting to just humor that idea for a moment.

“Hey, maybe there’s still tickets for the tournament!” Your friend chirps up, having noticed her nailpolish having dried by now, phone fetched and disconnected from the charger as she swipes and inputs her passcode to unlock it. “Or I’ll ask if we can have my brother’s tickets, since he didn’t go..” She mumbles, texting him most likely now.

“It’s.. I don’t know, we wanted to go out for dinner though.” You mumble, checking your polish for any imperfections. “You don’t even like gaming that much.” You also add, teasingly so. She rolls her eyes.

“Just cause I don’t play them, doesn’t mean I cant enjoy watching someone play them instead.” She argues. “Also, you can watch the game- I'll watch the pretty boy.” She winks, making you laugh with her, when she receives a text, phone falling out of her hand for a second before she can pick it up again. “Oh- he said we can have them!” She chirps up, clearly excited. “As far as I know they’re free seating- so if we’re early, we get to choose where we wanna sit and watch.” She explains, texting him some more while you contemplate.

This is dumb. He probably has a girlfriend, a life of his own, hell- you have a life of your own now, far away from him. There’s no reason for you to try and test your luck like this, but you’re also a fan of the game he’s competing at. So, maybe..

Yeah. You’re totally not doing it for him. You’re just going to watch the gameplay.

What’s the worst that can happen?

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—

It’s not even the next day yet, but you already see him again.

On your way down to the reception desk, mission clear in your head to muster up the courage to ask for another pillow instead of sleeping uncomfortably like this, you’ve barely exited your room when your eyes meet again in the hallway.

He says your name. His voice has gotten deeper after all those years, you notice. You nod, and he smiles, the turn of the corner of his mouth pulling your attention to the twin piercing he has placed there, silver rings piercing right through his skin. “It’s been a while.” He offers, hands in the pockets of his pants. He must’ve been out with his teammates, smell of faint cigarette smoke clinging to him as you walk a bit closer.

You nod. You feel awkward, all dressed down like this, having gotten reader for bed hours before, trying to find sleep without the extra comfort another pillow would bring you. “how are you?” He asks, and again, you nod.

You hate this. You’re still terrible at talking to people. “I’m good.. and you?” You answer, avoiding eye contact. Of course he’s obviously doing good- great even, about to bag thousands of prize money tomorrow when he’ll surely win the tournament.

“Good. Great even, now that I.. anyways, do.. What’re you doing here?” He wonders, clearly happy to initiate smalltalk. “vacation or work?”

“vacation. With.. a friend of mine.” You tell him, toes digging onto the fluffy slippers you brought on this trip for yourself. “like.. a girl’s weekend.” You explain, and he nods.

“Yeah.. guess you gotta leave the men at home sometimes to unwind.” He jokes.

“hmhm. Well, she had to- I don’t, you know, have anyone, so I’m flexible.” You tell him, and that seems to make his eyes sparkle almost like you’ve challenged him. Which you didn’t- so why does he look so energized now.

“Cool! I mean.. yeah.” He nods to himself, before he seems to realize something. “Oh hey, if I interrupted you or I’m holding you in a conversation, don’t mind me! You look like you were on your way somewhere-“ he starts, pointing down the gall to the elevator. “But uh.. if you wanna go down, there’s a bunch of drunks down in the lobby, just a warning.” He offers, making you deflate.

“Oh.” You hum, defeated. Well, maybe you cal roll up your sweater or something.

“If you.. I can go with you, if you’d like.” He offers. "I’m still pretty fit. Still boxing. So.. I can be your meat-shield basically.” He jokes, making you giggle, his eyes brightening up at the sound and sight.

“I.. that would be nice, actually.” You accept, and he happily walks next to you into the elevator at that, faint music drowning our the heavy buzzing of the mechanics.

“so uh.. how’s your family?” He wonders. “is your dad still making your mom’s life harder every day?” He jokes, but you shake your head, smiling fondly.

“No, they surprisingly settled these days. They’re.. on a trip themselves. For valentines day and all.” You explain, and Jungkook nods.

“romantic.” He teases, and you giggle, nodding along.

“they.. ask about you a lot. It’s kind of funny.” You tell him. “I can only ever tell them what I see online though.” You shrug.

“You.. know what I do?” he wonders, and your eyes widen as you look at him.

“are you kidding me? You’re the top player at my favorite game.” You say, making his expression moron into one of both wonder- and slightly bashful.

“I uh.. didn’t know. Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He laughs it off. “I.. have a tournament actually, tomorrow.”

“I know.” You nod, elevator doors opening. “I’ll be there. With my friend.” You say.

“Oh wow.” He chuckles. “I better win, in that case.” He.. flirts? As he walks towards the reception desk with you- drunk group of friends luckily only being loud, but not aggressive. “where will you sit?”

“its.. free seating, so I’m not sure.” You mumble, before you ask the lady at the desk for another pillow for your room number.

“I could probably reserve some good seats.” He says, and you smile.

“You really don’t have to.” You reassure him, when he suddenly asks the lady for something else as well- a flower from the last bouquet left over from the hotel’s valentines sale for the guests. She happily gives it to him, free of charge, before she tells you that housekeeping will bring you the pillow shortly, before she resumes her own work again, letting you and Jungkook walk back into the elevator.

You’re not sure what you think of this- but junkook has liked flowers back then, so why wouldn’t he still like flowers now. Or, maybe he’s staying here with his girlfriend, and he’s just wanting to gift her something on his way back to her- it’s valentines day, after all.

“I’ll.. can I have your number? To text you where you’ll sit tomorrow.” He asks, and you nod, walking into your room to fetch your phone, showing your number for him to type into his own, screen cracked a little in one corner. “awesome. Now then, the only thing I gotta do is..-“ he starts, slipping the phone in the pocket of his pants. “-ask you to be my valentine?” He wonders, holding the flower out to you. "Don’t have to say yes. I’m a big boy, I can take rejection.” He jokes.

“Can I.. ask why?” You wonder, and he grins, shrugging.

“I feel like, maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.” He simply answers. “..giving me a second chance, to ask you out for real this time.”

“wait.. you mean-“ you stammer, and he nods.

“I had.. kind of a huge crush on you back then. And, seeing you again.. it all just.. flared up again. Exactly the same way.” He confesses. “I’m not.. asking for something big. Just one date- and we’ll go from there.” He asks, and you slowly take the flower from him, smile on your lips as you think about his words. Fate, huh? A universe’s second chance? What are the chances?

You decide you don’t care.

“okay.” You answer him,-

And his eyes sparkle brightly, while he smiles at you like you’re the sun.

—--——--——--——--——--🩷--——--——--——--——--—i

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine

[justmystyles]

NEED YOU TO WRITE A JEALOUS/Angsty one for the picture of whoever is applying moisturiser to Harry. Your angst is soooooo good

PS: I’m OBSESSED with your work

Business or Pleasure?

read my other works here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you return to Love on Tour after an extended break, but after your last interaction, you come back to an awkward situation with Harry.

a/n: first of all, thank you so much for sending in this request, and for your kind words! when i first saw it, i wasn't really sure how to make angst out of it, but i think i figured it out pretty well.

i did take some artistic liberties with timelines here, i know the outfits and tour dates don't line up, but i had to suspend disbelief a little to make the story work out. sorry, don't come for me!

**Hey, so let's try this again! The first time I posted it was answering the wrong ask. That one will still be done snd posted. I promise!**

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

As your car traveled through the streets of Glasgow, you were unable to really take in the stunning scenery around you. You were too busy worrying about what the day had in store for you, panicking about being face to face with him again. 

Love on Tour had been on break since November, so you hadn’t seen Harry in nearly seven months. And the last time you did see him, things got complicated. After the last show, Harry had rented out a local bar to throw what he deemed the ‘Love on Tour holiday party’. Since everyone would be going their separate ways for a bit, he wanted to give this family he had formed a chance to celebrate together. 

As with most holiday parties, the alcohol was flowing rather freely, and everyone was getting loose and having a good time. You noticed that as the night went on, Harry was by your side more and more, his jokes getting slightly more flirty and his touches lingering just a little longer than they usually would. You two had developed a pretty flirty relationship, but he was like that with everyone, so you didn’t think much of it.

Until you found yourselves in a secluded corner of the bar with his tongue down your throat. 

Sure, it was something you had thought about for a while. Harry was one of the most gorgeous people you had ever seen, and to top it off he was so kind, and funny. He was technically your boss, but you would never know it. He treated you like his equal, his friend. Developing a crush on him was inevitable. But you had never expected anything to happen. Then it did, and you hadn’t heard from him since. 

At some point, Harry had gotten pulled away from you to do shots with the band, and you had an early flight the next morning. So you decided to slip out while he was distracted, it would allow you to put off the awkward conversation, at least for a little while. 

You had expected a call or text, anything from him the next day, but you didn’t. You hadn’t heard from him once since that night. You had seen him making appearances and doing interviews, which meant that he had hired someone else for his glam during the break, that hurt. He had regretted that night so much that he didn’t even want to work with you. 

You were contracted for the entirety of his tour, so you knew you would have to go back. When you signed on for the tour, you were excited to see the world, but now you were dreading every second you had to spend with Harry pretending that nothing had happened between the two of you. Pretending that you weren’t heartbroken. 

“Miss?” The driver’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you realized that you had arrived.

You thanked the driver as he handed you your bags and made your way through the backstage area. As you walked down the hall, you stopped to say hi and caught up quickly with people you’d run into, sharing quick stories about your break and promising to catch up soon. You found your way to the glam room, and took your time setting everything, partially because of how particular you were, but more than that, you wanted to kill as much time as you could so you didn’t have to go out to the common areas and socialize. You knew he’d be there, and you didn’t want to face him. 

Once things were set up, you killed time alone in your space, scrolling through your phone. You heard voices coming down the hallway, one of them was unmistakable. You put your phone down and took a deep breath to prepare yourself. As he walked through the door, you plastered your best fake smile on. 

Harry saw you, and you noticed his expression falter slightly, but he quickly corrected it. “Hey Y/N, welcome back.” He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into a quick side hug. It was significantly shorter than your past hugs, but it was long enough for his scent to overtake your senses. 

“Thanks,” you mumble as you step back, signaling for him to take a seat. You and Jeff say your hellos, and you make your way to your kit. The sooner you got started, the sooner you’d be finished, and you’d be able to get some distance from Harry. 

Jeff stayed by Harry’s side while he was in your chair. No doubt a calculated measure by Harry to make sure you weren’t left alone. As grateful as you were for that, you were also annoyed. He was the one that kissed you, and he wasn’t even man enough to reject you and apologize. 

“You’re all set.” You said once you were finished. You noticed Harry flinch slightly at your tone. You didn’t mean for your words to come out so stern, but you would only be able to hold back your emotions for so much longer. 

“Oh… okay, thanks Y/N.” Harry said cautiously as he got out of the chair, walking out of the room with Jeff. 

Once they were gone, you sat down into the chair Harry had just been in and dropped your face into your hands. The rest of this tour was going to be a nightmare. 

“Y/N, we need you backstage real quick.” Jeff sticks his head in the door only a couple of minutes before showtime. “And grab that lotion.” 

You furrow your brow, but comply. Grabbing the bottle and following Jeff down the hall. You find Harry standing shirtless amongst the hustle and bustle of pre-show preparations. 

“Um…” You got Harry’s attention and held up the bottle. “Jeff asked for this?” 

“Oh, right. I um… well…” He gestures to his bare torso. “I can do it if–”

“No no,” you interrupt him. “It’s fine, it’s my job.” You pump some lotion into your hand and set the bottle down. You rub your hands together and step up to Harry, taking a deep breath to center yourself before placing your hands on his chest and rubbing the lotion in. 

As your hands run along his body, your mind flashes back to that night. Your hands on his, his on you, your tongues entwined. You shake off the thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, you look up to meet his concerned, almost sad gaze. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. Your eyes remain locked on each other, Harry opens his mouth to say something. 

“The internet is going to go nuts for this!” You both snap your attention over to Lloyd, who was snapping pictures of your interaction. 

You feel your face heat up and look down, trying to hide your blush from Harry. You hurry to finish applying the lotion. “All set,” you finally say, unable to look up at him. He thanks you as you’re scurrying away, rushing back to your area. 

All you wanted to do was go back to the hotel and hide, but you knew you’d need to stay for a few touch ups before the encore. So you spent the entirety of the show sitting alone in the hair and makeup area lost in your thoughts, wondering how you were going to make it through. 

You kept an eye on the show through the monitor, making your way to the backstage area as he was finishing up his final song before the encore. He rushed over to you, breathing heavy, and adrenaline running high. You made some quick adjustments to his hair, and handed him a towel so he could wipe down a bit before going back out there, avoiding his gaze the whole time. 

He thanks you quietly before he returns to the stage, and you return to your space. While he’s finishing the show, you pack your things, hoping to get out of there and back to the hotel before he’s off stage. As you're closing up your case, you’re startled by a knock at the door. You look up and silently curse yourself for not moving faster when you see Harry standing in front of you. His chest rising and falling rapidly, still catching his breath, his body glistening, a combination of sweat and the lotion you had applied earlier. He was the last person you wanted to see, but you couldn’t look away. 

“Hi,” he breaks the silence. “Can we talk for a minute?” 

“I can’t, my car is waiting. I’ve gotta get back to the hotel.” You pick up your case and move closer to him, but he refuses to move from the doorway. 

“Please,” he pleads with you. You look up and see determination in his eyes. He’s not going to let you go without talking. You relent, dropping your case by the door and signaling for him to come in. “You’re not going to pull some fancy footwork and run past me if I move away from the door?”

You shake your head, you know he’s making a joke, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh. You move further into the room, hopping up to take a seat on the counter. “I’m here.” 

Harry takes a seat, running a hand through his hair as he tries to form the words. “I think I owe you an apology for the last time I saw you.” You remain silent, hoping he continues. “I was drunk, I crossed a line that I shouldn’t have, it wasn’t professional.” 

“It’s okay, we were both drunk.” You say, your feet swinging back and forth. 

“The last thing I wanted to do was screw up what we had,” he confessed.

“It’s fine, like you said, you were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.” 

Harry looked up at you, his brows furrowed. “I said I was drunk Y/N, not that it didn’t mean anything.” 

Your eyes went wide at his words. “I… what?” Before he could continue. “I just assumed it was a dunk fling or whatever.” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘drunken words are sober thoughts’?” You nod, trying to put the puzzle together. “Well in this case, it’s drunken actions.” He stood from his seat, stepping closer to you. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a long time. I had liquid courage running through me that night, I knew I wasn’t going to see you for a while, and you looked so beautiful, and you smiled at me like that, and I just couldn’t help myself.” 

“Oh,” you said softly, it was the only thing you could manage to get out. 

“After the guys pulled me away, I tried to find you. I wanted to lay everything out, tell you how I felt, but you left.” He looked down, but you could see the pain in his eyes before they dropped. “We had kissed, it was this amazing kiss, and then you just left without saying goodbye. I realized I had fucked up.” 

“I didn’t, that’s not why I left, I…” You were about to apologize for leaving, but he could have just as easily called you. “Why didn’t you just call? Text? Anything?” 

“I felt so bad. I didn’t know what to say. The more time had passed, the harder it got. And before I knew it, it had been seven months.” He saw the tears welling in your eyes, and his heart sank. “I missed you so much during the break, but I miss you more now. You’re right in front of me, but it feels like you’re a million miles away.”

“I’m right here, Harry.” 

“You’re not though, we’ve barely said anything to each other, and there’s this awkwardness between us. I hate it.” His voice starts raising, frustration growing in his tone. “It was one of the best kisses of my life, but if I could go back in time and stop it from happening so that we could be us again, I would.” 

“Harry?” He looks up at you and you see a vulnerability in his eyes that you’d never seen before. “I wanted that kiss too. It meant so much to me.” 

“But… but you just left…”

“I had an early flight, and I didn’t want to pull you away because you felt like you needed to let me down easy. I just assumed I’d hear from you the next day, hungover and apologize. But I never did.” 

Harry stepped in between your legs, his hand coming up and brushing across your cheek. “You’ve wanted to kiss me too?” Your breath hitched from how close he was, all you could do was nod. He smirked at your nerves, relief washing over him. “You know, when you were putting that lotion on earlier, when your hands were all over me,” his face moved closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. “You were driving me crazy.” 

You couldn’t contain yourself, his husky tone, his breath against your face, you closed the distance and kissed him. He groaned against your lips as his hands rested on your thighs, squeezing gently. This kiss was different than the last, that first kiss was sloppy, desperate. This time, it was slower, more deliberate. 

When you finally separated, you were both breathless, silly grins plastered on your faces. “So, what now?” You ask, unsure about where this leaves you. 

“Well,” Harry sighs, his thumbs running back and forth over your thighs. “We definitely still have stuff to talk about, but I’m hoping it leads to a lot more of that.” He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. 

“I have a feeling it will.” You smirk, pulling him in for another kiss. 

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles angst #harry's house #love on tour #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic

[cryptidcorners]

Suit & Tie - Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader [ 100 Follower Special ]

Description: You've been stood up on a blind date you were deathly excited for. Miserable and smeared with disappointment, you decide to visit Mike to cool your frustrations—though, it looks like you aren't the only one having a hard night.

Media: FNaF!Movie

Character: Mike Schmidt

Tags: 100 Follower Special, Hopeless Romantic!Reader, Rough Night, Fluff, Romantic, Friends to Lovers, Confessions, Lots of Kissing, Sweet Talk, Flirting, Shy/Awkward + Tease!Mike, Slice of Life, Domestic, Mike being a Sweetheart.

No Warnings.

read my TOS + Mike Schmidt Masterlist

It was one of the worst nights of your life.

You had fixed yourself a wispy, rich fit for your blind date. As well as saving up enough to pay and have some leftovers to indulge in last-minute activities. Blinded by excitement, you had prepared too much for your own good, and ended up waiting in your booth until after hours. Wrecked with frustration, you began to march outside to hook a taxi driver to drive you home silently. Only to realize a storm you hadn't expected muddied up the roads and made it almost impossible for someone to risk their time for a hopeless romantic like yourself.

So, now you were straying along the lines streets lightly flooded with blankets of darkened rainwater that were filling your shoes and weighting your fabrics. Disaster unveiled within your already distressed twister of a mind, as well as regret and heartbreak. You felt like an oblivious character thrown into the spotlight with a single to be humiliated and ragdolled. You couldn't believe your date had done that. All those bubbly giggles across the phone line, smooth walks in the park. You hugged yourself in an attempt to warm your frosted skin, as well as applying some solo comfort. Hot breaths tunneled out of your throat desperately to challenge your aches, blowing on your timid hands didn't give you a lick of justice. Nor hope.

How badly you wanted to go home and sink into a mindless of blue-screened entertainment from your glitching television to forget everything. To just pass away after all this cruel effort and embarrassment.

Had you really felt so connected to your date? To somebody you'd talk to over a table dressed with scarlet and a vased batch of yellow tulips within the center? Did you think it would work? To click with somebody—it felt so foreign, so alien, so unreal. You hardly knew them, but you still made the glorious effort to fall into available arms at any chance. To be cradled lovingly, to be covered in soft kisses, to be cared for. Would you ever find that?

Your eyes narrowed as tears mixed in with the shower above the black sky. Would you?

As silence crept into your conscience, you heard a voice thorned into your attention. You jolted up, eyes flickering like some startled deer. You wondered if you had imagined it, and your energy halted. 

“—Hey! What are you doing outside?” Your eyes veered towards a tall house, drenched in shadow and fog. It was Mike, calling your name. Suddenly, you felt your heart throb intensely, from not only the sight of him, but from embarrassment. You chewed your lip at the thought of Mike strolling past his dripping windows and seeing your figure, head down getting soaked by the rain. You could draw him being incredibly startled in your head. 

“Hey?” Mike echoed. “You’re soaked! Come—Get over here!” Now knowing you couldn’t ignore his signals to warm hospitality, you sailed across the street. Almost limping as you felt incredibly uncomfortable at the feel of mushy socks growing heavy in your pooled shoes. You huffed, scrambling up the steps to meet Mike’s gaze. His wear was surprisingly lacking that cozy picture you had seen so many times. Instead, he was sharp. Ruffled curls now backed and silky, face lightly shaved and his wear neatly ironed. Your face flushed nervously, “Hey. Hey, how are you?” You sheepishly smiled. It was a pathetic attempt to look grounded, but you couldn’t help yourself. Feeling vulnerable in front of him tugged you in a way you couldn’t explain, as if you had to impress him somehow.

Yet, despite his golden appearance, he looked defeated, and heartbreakingly exhausted. You desperately wanted to kiss his pain away, or see his face light up with that infectious grin you could never mentally shut up about. Mike stepped aside, inviting you inside. “Don’t worry about me just yet. Come inside,” he said and once you entered, Mike unleashed a concern lurking in his mind, “weren’t you supposed to be on a date? A—what’s it called? A blind date?” 

“A blind date.” You confirmed, eyes awkwardly flicked on the mud and storm you were dragging on his hardwood. Mike noticed and stammered quickly, “I can get you a towel, or something. Coffee?” He scrambled quickly to his kitchen, flicking on the light after holding onto your gaze for much longer than he wanted. Before you could speak, you could already hear the flicker of the stove. Mike called over, gripping a bag of coffee beans that was light from great useage. You wanted to deny, but you were too broken to push aside such an offer. With a slim exhale, you answered shyly, “That’d be nice, thank you.” 

As the smell of brew calmed your senses, you relaxed on one of the dining room chairs. Mike turned back to you, smiling, “Right, so. What happened? I thought you wouldn’t be here until midnight?” His gaze hung to the bubbling coffee in the pot, opening up the cabinets to prepare a decorated cup. “Was the date early? Oh, traffic?” 

“No, oh God, no.” You huffed, “I got stood up.” you said casually, and you heard something clatter from the surprise. Mike immediately turned to you, shocked. Without the context, you would probably laugh at his dumbfounded expression. You cleared your throat, “It’s—fine, really. We didn’t even know each other that well,” 

Mike poured the coffee with his eyes occasionally flickering towards you. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” 

“No, really.” Mike approached, “Here–,” and you whispered your thanks. “I just didn’t expect you to get up like that, you know? And you had to walk home? I could drive you back after you get dried up, you know it’s never a problem for me.”

You breathed heavily, “Thanks, Mike. But, I think I’ll be walking home. You’ve already made me coffee.” you humored. “I think I’ll be fine.” Despite the feel your cup resembling cinder against your fingertips, you still swallowed and cringed at the heat. Though, it pumped some warmth through your veins despite lightly damaging your throat.

Then, you felt your skin grow hot as he leaned close to you. “I insist.” Typically, Mike getting close to you wasn't all that rare, it was just something he did. Though, tonight felt different. “I’ve had a rough night too, and me helping you could make us both feel better.” He explained, “Of course, you don’t––you don’t have to. I’m just, suggesting.” Mike pulled away.

You were fond of his quick rambling, so this question was plastered with a smile, “So, what happened to you, handsome?”

“Fired.” He stated.

“What?” You coughed, regretting your playful tone in a flash. “Mike, that’s horrible!” That explained why he looked like that. His gaze washed, “I know, but, I have a lot of other numbers in my cabinet. I could look, they seem to pay well.”

He sat next to you, “It’s not as bad as what happened to you, though. I haven’t even told Abby yet.” Mike sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Mike,” you were shocked. “Don’t compare what went down tonight for you, that’s—terrible, I can’t even grasp how sorry I am for you.” You cleaned your coffee-stained lips. Mike’s eyes had been particularly hyper focused on your expressions, your body language, your lips. Just to name a few. Mike shrugged as you leaned forward slightly, “I guess we didn’t get what we wanted.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” Mike suggested. You were immediately confused, “What do you mean?” you hadn’t realized how quiet everything had gotten. Even the rain pitter patting against the window had no affect, it was only you and Mike. Paired up with your warm breathing. Mike’s eyes, for once, were maintaining contact. “I mean, I can still tell you how I feel. Like, how pretty you are. And how much I wish I could give your date a piece of my mind right now.” His laugh had always enchanted you. There was something so healthy and wonderful about it. It sounded as if nothing terrible happened to him, that he was content. Mike’s face flushed, “I’m sorry, am I going too far?” he asked breathlessly. As if he weren't tearing you to shreds right here and there. If he knew he was such a tease you doubt you'd be the victim of so many oblivious moments where you swore you were going to faint due to Mike's antics.

You whispered as your tone grew intimate, "No. It looks like you have more to say,"

"Well, I can say whatever you want me to." Mike's voice mirrored yours, and he dragged his chair. Your legs were touching, yet you pretended not to notice. You knew you were so lovesick, and that you could possibly be romantically interested in your best friend. The man that had always been there for you. His attitude was a flux, and Mike was raising his head with a sluggish grin as if he were surprised he uttered such a line. Which somehow made him more desirable in your world.

"I won't tell you anything. You need to tell me honestly." You toyed, "I know you're holding back."

Mike exhaled, "You know you're opening a door you can't close, right?"

"Maybe I want the risk." You tried to stay stable, "Who said I was scared?"

"Nobody."

"You looked like you were implying it, Mike."

He answered with a low chuckle, "So, you aren't going to run away?" Mike's face was dangerously close now. You could taste his breath, his skin was fresh with cheap cologne and lavender soap. Paired up with his lazy gaze and tired voice. It was enough to drive you to the edge, and you could barely muster a reply. "No."

He was so desperate for your approval, the moment you shook your head and opened your mouth, Mike was already smothering you gently. You melted into the kiss, your wet clothes and skin dimming onto his neat fit. Mike's hands were secure around you, obviously testing the waters and going slow. Meanwhile, you were needy. And desperate. And a little new. Both of you were, but that was the magic wasn't it? You had always prayed Mike would be the first person you would kiss. Even if it didn't cradle romantic context. You just wanted him. His giggles, his kisses, his kindness, his love. You wanted his love more than anything it hurt your heart how much, your passion burning in your gut.

You were both growing tired of sitting, so you stood up, growing handsy and messy. It wasn't until Mike found your neck, you folded. Before you could sink into pure joy in the moment, Mike pulled away, gasping. "I'm sorry, you're just standing. Are you okay?"

"More than okay,"

"Well, good, because I—" you cut him off, dragging him by only his tie and your lips to his couch. Passion stirred within the air as you began to unveil his collar and pepper his throat. Where, surprisingly, he was most ticklish. Mike was giggling the whole time, while also growing antsy. You had no concept of how long you two were making out for. Maybe a couple minutes? An hour? You didn't care, even if it hurt your lips, you wanted to be with him. With Mike. Somebody who understood. Your eyes grew glossy as he pulled away, catching his breath while pathetically mumbling a: "I love you, so much. So, so, so much." Then, he brought you back into his eclipse of pleasure. Everything was blurring and the only way to detect a number was by counting all the red marks on his skin because of you. It was all because of you.

You were growing crazy, humming and chuckling as your mouth grew tired of sharing oxygen with him. Once it was finally over, Mike rested his ruffled up curls against your forehead. You were more or less the same. There was silence, until you delivered: "I'm in love with you too." And it had circled, all over again. His lips and hands were on yours, just like you wanted.

Then, you both really stopped. Mike was drinking up the air robbed away from him. He giggled, face bleeding from blush from his flustered expression. "I'm sorry just—give me a second, Lord. I'm gonna pass out."

"Take it easy." You joked and you rested his head on your chest. Your skin was still radiating from your fling, and you couldn't help but blush like a teenager when he gazed up at you, eyes dark with an obvious love for you. He felt the need to repeat, "I love you."

"God, love can't even top what I feel for you." You cupped his face, "But that being said, I'll always love you more."

#💤 mike schmidt #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson #fnaf movie #fnaf #writers on tumblr #writing #🫢 100 followers

[nexysworld]

Guardian Angel 🖤 Part 1 🖤

Read on AO3 - Requests are Open - Masterlist

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | 4.1 | 4.2| 4.3

Summary: Leon was your regular friendly neighbor, always helping you out. He’s just a nice friendly guy. Simple as that… or so you thought. As his obsession with you increases you'll soon learn just what type of man your seemingly friendly neighbor truly is.

🖤Pairing: Yandere!Leon/Fem!Reader 

🖤Tags (not all apply to all chapters): NSFW, Masturbation, Dubcon, Sex, Gaslighting, canon typical horror and gore descriptions, probably eventual kidnapping or kidnapping like behavior, use of pet names like bunny. Will add more tags as the story goes on

@hxllfiredoll Gave me Yandere!Leon brainrot, so here we go! I picture at least RE4R Leon in this. Let’s a gooooooo! 

Leon had changed since the events of Raccoon City. He was no longer the bright eyed rookie cop who had the whole world ahead of him. Now he was in a much darker place, he’d seen the worst the world had to offer and he was not impressed. This world was no place for someone as perfect as you.

He felt like you were his flower trapped in a glass à la Beauty and the Beast, and without him there the glass would be removed by the world, each petal plucked from you until soon there’d be nothing left of his flower. You needed him obviously. What would you do without him? 

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

You didn’t know much about Leon, he was your neighbor and kept to himself mostly. You knew he worked for the government, but didn’t know what that entailed. You knew he was beyond handsome, but awkward as hell, at least from what you observed. You remembered coming up the stairs to your shared apartment building and the girl from apartment 202 had cornered him. Despite her best efforts and subtly hitting on him, she was met with a solid, “ok.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone escape behind a door faster than watching his honey blonde hair bounce with the speed of his movements. The next time you saw him you ran straight into him because you weren’t paying attention, dropping all of your grocery bags.. “Oh god I’m so sorry.” You said, reeling from how knocking into him was like hitting a wall with how built he was. “Hey, it's ok, I should’ve been watching where I was going.” He said. “Here let me help you with that.” Effortlessly he managed to pick up all of your bags and carry them to your apartment for you. “Thanks Leon.” “Don’t worry about it.” He gave you a quick smile before leaving. Really you thought Leon was just a naturally caring guy. I mean not all guys who are ridiculously good looking are assholes, right? That’s just a stereotype, and Leon would prove that to you often. It seemed like Leon was always somehow there to help you, with friendly neighborly gestures. Out of sugar? Sure you can borrow his. Laptop not working? Don’t worry he’s good with electronics. Furniture needs moving? Well it’s a good thing he’s strong. Really Leon was one of the nicest guys you’ve ever met. He just exudes a sense of friendly trustworthiness that you couldn’t explain. Maybe it was his soothing voice, or those steely blue eyes that you tried not to get lost in when you’d speak with him. Sometimes you’d find yourself inventing problems in order to speak with him and ask for help. You chalked it up to a little crush, nothing more than that. You wouldn’t allow it to be so, you had a boyfriend already, plans for the future. You weren’t the type of girl who’d throw that all away for some hot guy. Besides, Leon didn’t like you like that anyway, if he did you're sure you would know. He’s just a nice friendly guy. Simple as that. 

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

Leon thought about you a lot. When you’d leave he’d work his brain to remember the lingering scent of your floral perfume, the way you shyly tucked your hair out of your face when you talked with him. Most importantly that adorably sweet voice that ran like honey through his ears. He couldn’t believe such a little bunny like you lived right next to him. So sweet. So cute. So needy. Always knocking on his door for one thing or another. Under normal circumstances he would find himself irritated with the outside intrusion. When Leon wasn’t at work he liked to disassociate from life, what else was the point? Fight the bad guys. Go home. More pop up. Repeat. The world wasn’t kind, it wasn't fair. There was no point in anything else. But then you moved in. The girl next door. You became the point, the pinnacle of his future. His salvation. His new purpose. 

Slowly Leon began to notice that you needed his help more than you even realized. How did you even survive before meeting him? He began to follow you home from work, just to make sure you were safe of course. You were just a little hazard to yourself honestly. You didn’t look both ways before crossing the empty roads. You kept your social security card in your purse (don’t ask how he knows that.) You were too much of a people pleaser to avoid the strangers who’d stop to talk to you. Too dumb to know better than to wear such short little skirts out in public. 

Even worse was your home defense, I mean it took almost nothing for Leon to get into your apartment while you were away, and you certainly didn’t notice the little changes he made. Like the tiny cameras seated within your potted plants, the eye of the teddy bear you kept on your nightstand. You left your laptop open right on the kitchen counter! He didn’t even need to use his government equipment to get into your stuff. One hour of his time and all of a sudden all your texts and emails were popping up on his own secondary phone, your social media, everything.

 Stupid, stupid little bunny. The only thing worse than your ability to protect yourself was that hoity-toity upperclass hipster you called a boyfriend. Leon simply couldn’t fathom how some saucy fuck boy like that could work his way into your pure heart. He’d spent hours going through all your DM’s and texts with this man. He simply could not see the appeal. He treated you like you were too stupid to understand his profound pretentious thoughts and opinions. You were too good for scum like him. You needed a real man, you deserved a real man. 

Luckily for you, Leon was a real man. And now he found his new purpose in life was to keep you safe, keep your petals attached. You were so lucky Leon found you, he was going to give you everything you’d ever need. You’d never have to worry or think again. 

Leon had intended to do things the right way too, take things slowly. Really he did. He didn’t want you afraid of him, no he was going to be your prince, your knight in shining armor. He spent countless nights thinking of all the ways he could rid your boyfriend from existence so he could slip inside your heart and clean up the mess that was left. 

He thought of your gorgeous face, the cute little blushes you try to hide when you’re around him, how red your face would be if he finally took the plunge and asked you out. Or maybe he’d be more dramatic, going directly in for a kiss, running his tongue over your bottom lip, teasing you. Oh how precious his little bunny was.

Despite it taking every ounce of self control, Leon was determined to take things slowly, well he was trying anyway, you weren’t making this very easy, especially with the noises he was hearing from his computer. He lifted the laptop up so he could set it on the nightstand next to him. He clicked on the thumbnail of your room to blow up the image, and there you were splayed out putting on a show just for him - not that you knew that of course. 

There you were in all your glory, back arched into the mattress as you worked the toy in and out of your sopping hole with one hand while the other danced around your clit at a steady pace. Your face was flushed, lip bitten and eyes closed as you generated your pleasure. You looked so serene and ethereal, like a goddess of pleasure that he could worship. Leon felt his cock harden in his boxers, he pulled himself out and lazily stroked himself while he watched you. This was nothing new, something he’d done many times…that was until he heard your voice. “Nnng Leon…” He blinked at the screen for a moment, frozen as you softly chanted his name like a prayer. That, that was new. He knew you liked him, but he’d never seen you get off to him before. You were always such a good little girl, devoted to your future ex-boyfriend. The sound caught him so off guard he almost finished by your voice alone. He released his cock from his hand so he could grab the pair of panties of yours he kept in his nightstand, he wrapped them around his cock and continued to jerk himself while he watched you, jerking himself in rhythm with the way you toyed with yourself. He sped up when it looked like you were close, aiming to finish when you did. The second you let out a final scream of his name he felt the pleasure burst from his cock as hot ropes of cum spilled onto the laptop screen and his leg. “Don’t worry baby.” He said to the screen. “I won’t make you wait much longer for the real thing. My sweet little bunny shouldn’t have to work so hard to feel good.”

With that little scene before him, his resolve crumbled. Clearly going slow was a mistake, you needed him so badly in more ways than one. He was going to show you just how safe you are with him, how good he’ll be able to make you feel.

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

“Hey Derek, are you okay?” You asked as your boyfriend doubled over in the middle of the alleyway. “Yeah, just drank too much I think.” He said as the rest of his dinner came up along with what looked like blood. Under the dim lamplight you noticed that his skin was shining with sweat and there were spiderwebs of veins that looked pure black as they creeped along his skin. “D-derek…I really think we should get you to a hospital.” You said worriedly, putting your hand on his back. He spun around in a fury. “Don’t fucking touch me, I said I’m fine!” His eyes were a deep red and almost looked like they were glowing in the night. You backed away a few steps nervously. This was like a scene from a horror movie, surely it wasn’t real right? Maybe it was a prank? You gently reached out with a shaky arm to him. “H-hey, it’s gonna be alright.” He grabbed your wrist and yanked you harder than you thought possible before slamming you against the brick wall of the alley. He snarled in a way you’d never seen a human do before. “Stop, this isn’t funny.” You pleaded with him, but they fell on deaf ears. Desperately you fished around in your pocket until you found the pocket knife you kept in there. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll have to use it.” You threatened as your hand shook with tremors. The black veins had reached all over his face now, he snarled again leaning in with an open mouth indicating his intention to bite the flesh from your skin. In a scared panic you jammed the knife directly into his neck, he dropped to the ground and you ran to the end of the alley, tears welling in your eyes.

You stood staring at his body as it layed there on the ground twitching. You fished for your phone to call 911, but remembered you had forgotten it at home before your date. Fuck. You thought to yourself as you tried to ponder your next steps. Your thoughts were cut short though when you heard a disgusting sound, like flesh being torn apart, bones breaking. You looked over and saw something beginning to protrude from his face and neck. Worms? Tentacles? You weren’t sure. Surely you must be hallucinating right now, having a psychotic break. There was no other explanation for this.

You took one step forward, then another, and another until you were back in front of his body. Within seconds your face was splattered with blood as whatever it was bursted out entirely from his neck. You could see all the deformed features of his face while they danced in a mix of tentacles that were waving before you. You felt sick. You felt frozen. A gunshot rang out, and your boyfriend’s body slumped back to the ground, tentacles and all. The world became dizzy, the alley turning upside down, a voice you couldn’t make out. Someone stood over you, but you couldn’t see who as your head rattled. The next thing you knew you were out, slipping into the black void of unconsciousness. 

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

Leon had worked out the fastest plan to get rid of your future ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t hard for him to get a sample of the Plagas virus that the lab had been storing and it was even less difficult to inject it into the man. Of course the cleanup was a bit of a pain, blaming a DSO researcher who lived nearby, framing it on them. But when you want something done right, you gotta put a little effort in, ya know? Anything for his little bunny. Leon kept a close eye on you, closer than usual. His goal was only to frighten his little rabbit, not let her get killed or hurt more than was required. He saw the virus taking effect instantly, and noticed the odd ticks that would occur during your dinner date. Your own future ex-boyfriend and you didn’t even notice a change in his behavior until it became so obvious. He trailed you to the alleyway, hiding behind the dumpster as the scene played out. It hurt him to see you so scared. Truly it did, but you needed this. He couldn’t believe you actually walked back over to the body. See little bunny? That’s exactly why you needed Leon. The second Derek’s corpse was back on his feet, Leon drew his gun before sending a single, and final, lethal shot sending the Plagas back to the ground. He walked forward and caught you just as your body went slack. “Don’t worry sweetheart. I got you.” He said tossing you over his shoulder and into his car. His timing was perfect. He’d arrived back at the apartments just in time for the outside lights to be turned off both in the parking garage and external hallways. Carrying you to your apartment without being seen was a cakewalk. You made it even easier by staying unconscious the whole time Leon washed you up and tucked you into bed. He made sure to hide all evidence of your bloodied clothes, and of your now dead ex-boyfriend. Of course the DSO wouldn’t want the public to know that any kind of outbreak occurred, no matter how small, which meant that Derek had to disappear entirely. The government would take care of his family and friends, but you, you were all Leon’s to handle. He was nothing if not thorough to be sure, deleting any social media post, text, call log, anything at all that involved the man you once knew. Before he left your apartment, he leaned over and placed a small kiss on your forehead before slipping back over to his own apartment before the crack of dawn. Leon waited patiently for hours. Excruciating hours while you remained in your unconscious state. He knew you were about to wake though when he saw your face scrunch up on the camera, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. 

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

You shot up in a panic. “Derek? Derek!” You shouted as your head pounded, your heart beat was so loud it resounded in your ears. You were more confused when your bedroom came into view and someone was sitting on the end of your bed. . . Leon? “What the —” “Hey sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said softly, moving towards you arm out like he was approaching a scared animal. “I heard you screaming and you didn’t answer the door so I let myself in just to make sure you were okay.” It took a few moments to process his words before you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Oh god, I’m sorry if I woke you up. I was just having a bad dream.” “Sounds like it.” He said softly, and there they were those endless blue eyes, instantly instilling comfort in you. “You sure you’re okay?” “Yeah I just…it was a nightmare that Derek died and…” She shuddered again. “Derek? Who’s that?” Leon asked, tilting his head. “A family member?” You gave him a confused look. Leon knew who your boyfriend was, they’d even met in passing once when he dropped you off at home. “No, Derek, you know him, my boyfriend?” “Derek? I don’t know anyone by that name, I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.” He said with a soft laugh. Your eyebrows knitted together in a v-shape, more confused than ever. Maybe Leon just forgot? Maybe he was just joking with you? You reached over and grabbed your phone from the nightstand. You thought maybe giving him a call would help ease your mind, and maybe showcase to Leon you did in fact have a boyfriend. You swiped through your messages but didn’t see the text thread. You tried your snapchat, nothing. Instagram DMs, nothing. None of your threads or his accounts showed up at all. “What the fuck.” You said to yourself, hands beginning to tremble. “Is everything okay?” Leon asked softly. “Yeah I just…” You furiously swiped through your contacts and Derek wasn’t there. You tried calling his number. “Sorry the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or no longer in service.” Something felt very wrong. You launched out of bed to your closet and dug through your old shoe boxes like a madwoman, ripping the lid off to dig through your polaroids that you had. Every single one with Derek, gone. You turned to face Leon, new tears streaming down your face. “What the fuck is going on.” You asked mostly to yourself. Leon walked over to you and ran a thumb over your cheek soothingly. “Hey, hey, calm down. Calm down. What’s wrong?” He asked softly. “What do you mean what’s wrong? Derek’s gone, everything is gone!? I was with him in the street and he died and now…now he’s just gone the pictures are gone…” You weren’t making a lot of sense trying to explain to Leon what you were talking about. Were you having a psychotic break? No way, the memories you had were real, how can you just imagine a decade of memories!?

~♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡🖤♡~

His plan was working. Not even moments after you woke up you were already connecting your thoughts and memories to a person who no longer existed. He knew the more you pushed about this, the more lost you’d become. He wasn’t usually one for gaslighting, but he’d use any tool at his disposal for you. Don’t worry little bunny, the pain wouldn’t last long. Leon was here for you. He walked over and wrapped his strong arms around you in the tightest hug he could give you. He shushed you and rubbed your back while you sobbed. “Hey, hey it’ll be okay. It will be okay, why don’t we get you back to bed.”

He led you back to the mattress, running his fingers through your hair while you laid down. “Shhhh. Shhh.” He cooed, tucking you in tightly. When he turned to leave your arm shot out to his. “W-wait. If you don’t mind, can you stay the night? I just.. Something feels wrong. I don't want to be alone.” Of course he would stay the night with you. He nodded and sunk down on the bed next to you, above the blanket, not wanting to push his affections too far just yet. He played with your hair while you fell asleep again. Don’t worry little bunny, you were safe with him. You’ll always be safe with him. 

#leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon kennedy #Female reader #resident evil #fanfiction #reader insert #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #yandere! leon kennedy #re4r #re4r leon #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil 4

[jinkookspencil]

i got you | ksj

back from his service, jin tests out his strength and a theory of his

tags/note: jin x chubby / plus size / curvy reader (f) / fluff + suggestive / established relationship (they're engaged!) / low-key seokjin has soft-dom loving energy here but it doesn't get that steamy

wc: ~1.3k words

description/note: just domestic fluff in the kitchen / spoiler alert for jin's theory: he's sure he can carry his fiance and wants to try it out / no mentions of insecurity on yn's part, she just doubts jin can actually do it / intended with a plus sized woman in mind, but i think you can read and relate even if that doesn't apply to you? as long as you have any doubts that jin can carry you lol / no mentions of idol life, this jin can be whatever you want him to be / they're in the kitchen and jin had been cooking but no other mention of food / i actually wrote a jk version of this first but i will post that second - very soon, it's basically done! i have such a thing for fics based around jin's return i miss him yall / i shared an update post recently detailing where i've been and how i'll be with this blog moving forward! /also, happy valentine's day, here's a lil love from me and jin to my fellow chubby/curvy/plus-sized beauties!! <3 again, jk version coming very sooooooon! / update: jk version available to read here!

The clang of pots and pangs echoing through your apartment warmed your heart. It was an irritating sound when heard regularly, of course, but considering how long it’s been since you’d had your fiance messing about in the kitchen… it was more than welcome. Following the noise, you find Seokjin with his back turned to you, cleaning his used kitchenware and cutlery in the sink and quietly humming a tune. You cursed yourself for not peeking in earlier just to see the man in action - it always was a turn-on seeing Seokjin’s dedicated, sweaty, albeit chaotic cooking. This still did something, though. Hopping onto the freshly cleaned marble-topped kitchen island, you take it all in: the faint smell of something delicious in the oven, the sound of the gushing tap water, more clangs of metal on metal, but you really focus on the man that stood before you. Your man. His adorable growing hair was too short to be long, too awkward to be short. His broad shoulders and new muscles now pressed through his tee instead of his bones. His silver singing voice, even as a gentle whisper, which you hadn’t realized abruptly stopped.

“Drink it in. I’m enjoying this just as much as you are.”

You wonder what gave it away. The sound of your footsteps, the ruffle of your pajama fabric, or perhaps an admiring sigh you hadn’t noticed escaped you. It didn’t matter. You were enjoying the view, surely, but it was even better now when he turned to face you, a shy smile on his face.

“Missed cooking that much?”

“Cooking, yes, I missed being in the kitchen. I don't need to tell you how much I fucking missed your bratty ass, but what I meant was that I am enjoying you. I’m elated I finally have my girl and soon-to-be wife ogling me instead of the men at the base.” He chuckles, turning away and hiding a sudden shyness while drying his hands with a kitchen towel.

“And I'm elated just to be with her... Now that that’s done…” he whispers, undoubtedly ready for what you were with his hands and eyes on your plush thighs, his fingertips toying with the hem of your pajama shorts.

“It’s like you read my mind,” you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to pull him in for a kiss, only for him to pull away.

That was a first. Since Seokjin was back, at least. The two of you barely kept your hands off of one another….

“Or not…” you ask curiously, cupping his face in your hands. “Seokjin?”

Your fiance silently continues tracing the skin of your plush thighs, squeezing the flesh in his hands. He exhales before doing it once again and finally looking up at you.

You jump from the counter and face him, trying to look into his eyes, but he’s lost in thought. You pull his hand to lead him to the bedroom, but he doesn’t budge.

“Seokjin…?” you ask once again.

“Jump back on the counter for me, love.”

You do.

“Wrap your legs around me, honey.”

“Well, I was going to anyways,” you say, following his orders. “In there…”

“I’ll take you there.”

“What? No!” you shriek, unwrapping your legs from his body.

“Yes, come on, honey,” he says, his voice steady yet soft as he reaches for your leg.

“Seokjin, you cannot carry me,” you say, now pushing him away while he tries to tug you closer.

“Yes, I can,” he insists with a sternness to his voice that reminds you where he’d spent the past 18 months.

“Just because you’re all buff now doesn’t mean you can carry me, stupid. I’m still big, you know?”

“Well, guess who’s also big now? I mean, I always was, of course,” he says with a giggle and a flushed face as he raises his brow and tilts his head downwards, reminding you that he’s still your Seokjin. You promptly roll your eyes with a smile, pinching his arm. He regains his composure in mere seconds, a hand brushing your hair and tilting your face up towards his.

“I will admit that I probably wouldn’t have been able to do it before enlisting, but… I can now, honey. I can.”

“I don’t want you to,” you pout, unable to meet his gaze no matter how intense you knew it was, so knew it was best to shut it down as quickly as possible. Seokjin never forced you to do something you didn’t want to do…

“You.. why not?”

“Because in the case that you try to carry me but then realize you cannot, we could drop to the floor and one or both of us will get hurt. You could get hurt physically since I have padding and you don’t. I’d get hurt mentally, and I’ll be so fucking embarrassed that it was because of my weight.”

“The number of things wrong with that…,” Seokjin tsks, cupping your face and forcing you to look him in the eye. “First of all, I can carry you. Second, muscles are a form of padding, too, idiot.” He pokes your forehead and puts your hand on his shoulders to feel how strong he’d gotten while he takes your soft thigh in his hand. “I can take it, sweetie - all this tells me is I haven’t told you just how much work I did in the service. Third, it’s not because of your weight - nothing ever was. It’d be because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Seokjin… I don’t know.”

“And you have nothing to be embarrassed about, my love. Ever. I mean… it’s me. I’ve seen and touched you in the most ungodly ways possible, and this would be what would embarrass you? Falling? When I-?”

You shake your head and interrupt him with shushes - nothing he could’ve said would have helped his case. “Can’t we at least put a mattress down or something? In case we fall?”

“Babe, this isn’t Jungkook’s apartment. We don't have an excess of mattresses here…”

The comment makes you giggle.

The way Seokjin rubbed your skin calmed your racing mind.

The kiss he plants on your lips reminds you that this is home.

This is safety.

This is love.

“Just trust me,” he whispers.

You nod, allowing Seokjin to wrap one of your legs around his torso and then the other. His hands sneak their way between your thighs and the marble countertop, digging into your plush skin already. You’d expected Jin to start a countdown, ease you into it at least… but before you knew it, his head was nestled in your chest, and you were off the counter, held up high in his arms.

A loud shriek escapes you, making your fiancee giggle beneath you.

“See, love? I got you...”

He was holding onto you securely, with no sign of any struggle on his part…. If he had been struggling with the weight of you, he hid it well…

“The view’s nice up here,” you smile, resting your head atop Seokjin’s when he finally looks away from you and buries his face in your flesh, kissing and biting you there.

“Seokjin, I can’t smell your shampoo anymore. When was the last time you showered?”

“Mm,” he says against your skin. “Fuck, that’s… that’s a perfect idea, honey,” he says, wide-eyed and excited, though he misunderstands. “It’ll be like a movie scene. But first…”

Seokjin dashes towards the bedroom with you still in his arms, shrieking until he plops you down onto your shared mattress.

“Safe?” he teases, pretending to check your body for any bruises before you pull him towards you until he’s leaning over you, his face a centimeter away from yours, with his hands already all over your soft body.

“Safe,” you say happily.

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[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Three: Bad Timing

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: It's that time of the month and some new innocent boisterous visitors to the house don't make it any easier, in addition to you still being muddled over Robert's behavior.

Word Count: ~5,128

Warnings: Descriptions of menstruation, period stereotypical gender roles, some angst, nightmares, infidelity hints, age gap, slight daddy kink (sorry not sorry)

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy (especially this chapter as the children and their mother are my made-up characters), and this is essentially AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer.

Part One

Part Two

Tag list: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman @uniquetacofun

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know.

It happened midmorning, the familiar feeling of a bloom of crimson staining your panties as you were in the process of pouring out a full bottle of wine in the sink since you decided to purge all bottles of it from the house. Robert wouldn't be that upset; he was not extremely fond of wine and you couldn't trust it to make you feel happily drunk, for it seemed to have the opposite affect and you refused to succumb to the negativity, plus being compared to Katherine didn't help matters.

You left the bottle in the sink for the time being and hurried off to the bathroom, uncomfortably aware of the leaking blood and you pulled down your skirt and panties, frantically searching for the box of sanitary napkins tucked under the sink and once you retrieved a fresh pair of underwear from the closet, you affixed one in and groaned at the incoming cramping beginning to pulsate through your lower abdomen. You were glad Robert was not around to witness, although he had always been supportive and understanding, men in general tended to be peculiar about menstruation and sometimes you couldn't blame them; it was an intimately awkward pain in the ass.

You popped in a painkiller pill from the medicine cabinet and went back to the kitchen sink, staring down at the vibrant red splash of wine; a parallel to what just began for you. So maybe last night had not been just you overreacting from alcohol after all... As you uncorked the second bottle, it then occurred to you that this was an awful waste and you stopped, setting the wine on the counter and sighing. Maybe keeping a few around wouldn't hurt, especially when company came over... You'd just have to practice self control, that's all.

Around midday (lunchtime for most people), Robert dropped by, but he certainly wasn't interested in eating and only came to retrieve his hat and a briefcase, casting a quick cautious smile your way as you were sitting at the kitchen table, intent with studying for your nursing degree. At least that took your mind off your bleeding and the cramps had numbed from the painkiller, making the day bearable.

But around two o'clock, you heard a loud unexpected knock at the front door and startled, pushing aside papers and an anatomy book to go greet whomever it could be.

The mother, Mrs. Thompson, whom you'd discussed babysitting her two young boys on the first day here was there with them standing on the front step. Her children Duncan and Douglas were close in age, around three and four respectively and nearly twins; strikingly similar in appearance with their matching towheaded short hair and big brown eyes set in cherub faces.

You hadn't expected them so soon and it must have shown on your face because she was instantly apologetic, speaking hurriedly.

"I'm sorry if this is an inconvenient time, but I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to watch my little boys for a few hours as we talked about?"

"Oh, sure, I did promise to after all," you replied courteously.

"I'd be appreciative. It's my tentative first half day on the job and they don't have the daycare in operation yet, so it's been rather hectic and of course my husband works at the lab, so he can't babysit."

"Of course. Now what time do you think you'll be able to come pick them up?"

"Six o'clock, but we usually eat at five for supper and they tend to get so cranky and peckish, so-"

"I'll feed them, don't worry," you offered and her eyebrows shot up.

"Are you sure? I'd be so grateful if you could. Oh, and if you tend to have trouble telling them apart, just remember this: Douglas is the older one with more vocabulary and about two inches taller."

She touched the tops of their heads and bent to peck each one's cheek quickly before straightening up, giving them directives.

"Boys, please behave for Mrs. Oppenheimer and Dougie, look after your brother. Mommy will come back soon, okay?"

They nodded distractedly and then bolted off into the house curiously, already taking in this new environment and starting to chase each other around the living room. Mrs. Thompson shrugged with an exhausted laugh.

"Well, as you can see they are the opposite of timid. They can entertain themselves for hours, but that's just the problem; they just give each other endless energy!"

"I'll do my best to keep them in line and safe," you told her assuredly before bidding goodbye and closing the door, taking a deep breath and moving to sit down on a chair in the lounge, where the boys had stopped racing and were quietly exploring the space, peeking on tiptoes at the bookshelves and out the windows. You watched them bemusedly, not accustomed to children very much and they almost reminded you humorously of puppies as they wandered about and began to chase each other, a game of tag it looked to be with Douglas tapping his little brother on the back and then racing off to the other side of the room with a laugh.

"Be careful," you called out as Duncan bolted after him, bumping into the furniture along the way. It took a few minutes for you to relax and adjust to their energy, and while they were busy tagging each other back and forth, you went to retrieve the papers and books from the kitchen to continue studying, but unfortunately your headache was coming back stronger with fatigue and you really had to use the bathroom, but worried if you left them unsupervised, would they get into mischief or accidentally ruin anything? Your head kept throbbing and so you leaned back to rest your eyes just for a moment... Until a shattering crush made you gasp and you saw a guilty faced Duncan standing at the foot of a smashed vase on the floor. His older brother quickly apologized and sat down to pick at the pieces, but you rushed to take over so he wouldn't hurt his hands on the sharp shards of pottery, telling both of them to go sit down now. They obeyed, clamoring up onto a chair and swinging their legs, pouting.

"Alright you two, this is your first warning. If you break something else, I'll have to tell your mother about it," you warned, but they only gave you doe eyed innocence that made you feel a little better. You plowed through for a couple hours, taking one bathroom break and then helping Duncan with his own potty break before there was a noise at the front door at four-thirty. The boys perked up and ran to it, presumably thinking it to be their mother even though she wasn't supposed to be back until six. You heard Robert's surprised voice and entered the hall just in time to see little Duncan run straight into his legs, bouncing off and appearing confused as he staggered backwards.

"Daddy?" he asked, craning his neck upward and face falling when he saw a different man.

"Oh dear, I certainly hope not," Robert chuckled with wide eyes as he gently maneuvered around the little boy and you walked to meet him with a smirk.

"Daddy, hmm?"

He nearly flushed and glanced away as you looked down, allowing Duncan and Douglas to go play outside in the yard for awhile.

"Just stay on the grass and by the window where I can see you both," you instructed firmly and Douglas nodded, taking Duncan's hand and dashing out the open door as you looked back to Robert, still smiling.

"I kind of like the sound of 'Daddy' for you."

His eyebrows twitched in perplexion and he held up a finger, speaking with uncertainty.

"I thought we agreed to hold off on raising any children - of our own that is - until later? Or have you changed tunes already?"

You reached for his tie, giving it a teasing tug and cocking your head, playing up to his confusion.

"That's not what I meant, darling. I think you do something to me when referred to as that... Don't you think daddy has a nice ring to it when spoken in my voice, though?"

He gave you a strange look, but smiled amicably.

"I, well, I suppose it's... interesting. You continue to surprise me and nourish my expanding knowledge of various feminine desires, so I thank you for that, my love." He walked away towards the living room and you trailed behind, unsure of quite what to think of that response.

"How long have they been here, the children?" Robert asked while setting his briefcase down to the floor and you causally glanced at your wristwatch.

"About a couple hours, Mrs. Thompson dropped them off at after two o'clock."

"Well, you must have your hands full," he remarked.

"It's been easy," you half lied, knowing that broken vase was very minor loss but you weren't completely sure of what you were doing, not being an expert babysitter, and you still had to make a somewhat kid friendly dinner.

He just nodded, walking over to the large window panes and staring out at the yard, where the boys were chasing each other around a pine tree and then Douglas crouched down, pretending to shoot at his brother with a little finger gun and Duncan copied him, dodging invisible bullets. You joined Robert's side and observed unsmiling as you considered how males have such an inherent tendency towards violence, even during mock play. It spoke volumes about the tragic times you were living in and how it all was filtered down to children.

"I'm sick of all the fighting, Robert," you commented sadly and he made no expression.

"We live in a volatile planet," he replied flatly and you pursed your lips, turning away.

"That doesn't mean I have to embrace it."

"You don't; it just takes you instead, a pacifist as prisoner."

"I'm about to start dinner, would you like to help for once?" you changed the subject with a snap and he clenched his jaw, following you to the kitchen where you fumbled with pots and pans, gathering ingredients for a simple chicken with mashed potatoes and side vegetables dinner. Robert pulled out the cans of peas and carrots from the cupboard and took his time with the can opener, muttering under his breath about explosive versus implosive and you side eyed him, asking him if everything was alright.

"Yes, fine. Only conversing with myself," he answered with a thin grin and you shrugged, beginning to cook and deciding to leave out ample amounts of spices on the chicken because of the children's likely tender taste buds.

The boys came in a few minutes later and you noticed dirt and dust all over Duncan's front and Douglas had filthy hands as well.

"How did you two get so dirty? I told you to stay on the grass," you exclaimed exasperatedly and they ignored this, distracted by the dinner preparation and you had to shoo them away from the stove.

"Can we have porridge?" Douglas asked hopefully and you stared, amazed at how children's thought processes work.

"No, that's for breakfast only. It's dinnertime."

"Cereal?" Duncan added hopefully, licking his upper lip and you shook your head, looking to Robert who wasn't paying much attention and fixated on spooning out the canned vegetables into a saucepan.

"Mac 'n cheese!" Duncan suddenly shouted, beginning to hop up and down while his brother added to this impromptu guessing game.

"Hotdogs? Momma makes us hotdogs, they're my favorite!" he exclaimed as you walked over and took their small arms, marching them out to the bathroom to clean up. You can't do much about Duncan's soiled shirt other than a wipe down, for there were no clothes in the house that would remotely fit him and you hoped his mother won't be upset.

When you came back to check on the cooking and having sent the boys back to the living room with a stack of blank papers to draw on with pens from Robert's study, you smell smoke - and not the usual odor from cigarettes. The pan of chicken is burning and Robert is nowhere in sight.

"Dammit!" you cried, furious at him for carelessly and bizarrely abandoning the hot stove, and you rushed to pour a cup of water on the pan, creating a loud hiss and puff of smoke and vapor. The chicken was too blackened for consumption, so you tossed it out bitterly before going to mash up the potatoes. You felt a tug on your skirt and you glanced down, seeing Douglas looking up at you, his tiny chubby hand clutching the hem of your skirt.

"I need to go potty," he declared, hopping from foot to foot and you sighed in frustration, taking his hand and leading him down the hall once again to the bathroom and making sure he could go by himself before returning back to the kitchen, where now the vegetables were becoming overcooked mush.

"Fuck," you muttered, hurriedly removing them and dumping forkfuls onto plates. You jumped at the sound of Robert behind you and you glared at him as he looked visibly distracted.

"Thanks for nothing! We almost had a kitchen fire because you went off to who-knows-where while I was cleaning the boys up in the bathroom," you chastised and he closed his eyes briefly, stressed and guilty.

"I'm sorry, I had to run through a calculation and I thought it would be fine to leave it for a minute as long as you were coming back," he explained and you scoffed, thinking that as no excuse.

"You should know better than to leave a stove unattended, even for a few moments. And you know, this is absurd. When are they coming to finish the kitchen? If we're going to host, we'll need a bigger space."

"Don't worry, they'll be working on it and I'll fix this." He moved to take the saucepan from you and ladle out the rest of the soggy veggies. You took a seat at the table, plunging your sore head into your palms just as Douglas came wandering back in, whining.

"I'm hunnngry, Mrs. Oppen-hemmer..."

"Oppen-heimer," Robert corrected over his shoulder with a smile and you rubbed your face, standing up.

"It'll be just a minute, how about you please have a seat to wait, alright? And where is your brother at?"

"Potty," Douglas replied and you gave Robert a glance.

"Can you go fetch him and leave the food to me?"

He gave a curt nod and left the room while you took the last chicken breast left and placed it in the pan to sizzle. Thankfully it didn't take too long and you were grateful your husband was dealing with one child while the other waited, watching you curiously and kept asking if he could have ketchup, presumably for the chicken.

"Just about ready?" Robert's voice made you turn to see him with Duncan toddling in, hanging onto the cuff of Robert's sleeve.

"Did he wash his hands?" you asked and Robert nodded again in affirmative, helping the kid onto a chair. You set out their plates and once everyone was seated, the boys dug in clumsily (Duncan was definitely the messier one and you tried to help him with cutting up the chicken), but in all considered, they were fairly civilized; their mother taught them well for their age.

Robert meanwhile was quiet, neglecting a smoke as he actually ate most of the food on his plate instead and you wondered if you should have young guests over more often if they influenced him to make a better impression of an appetite.

"So how do you all like it? Good?" you asked them towards the end of the meal.

"Yummy," Duncan said while Douglas vigorously nodded with a closed stuffed mouthful and Robert smirked, gently nudging your ankle under the table with his foot.

"It's delicious as is anything you put your culinary talents to is."

"Even though it burned initially and these vegetables are a tad overdone?"

"Perhaps we should try barbeques then," he suggested, the tip of his shoe suggestively tickling your stockings and you twitched in your chair, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"I'm glad you all are satisfied."

When the boys finished, you took their plates to wash out at the sink and Robert told them to go to the living room to play. He came close, grazing your shoulder and feeling around your skirt, but you flinched away from his touch and he frowned, taken aback.

"Not now," you murmured and he backed away, retreating from the kitchen as you finished the dishes, joining the others in the main room a while later, and immediately noticing Duncan posing in front of the fireplace with Robert's tobacco pipe sticking out from his mouth. You quickly swiped it out from him while your husband only laughed as he was seated on a chair in front of the boy, clearly entertained.

"That's for grown-ups only, young man," you chided seriously (with a scoff at Robert for encouraging this) and he giggled sheepishly before getting distracted by his older brother tackling him from behind. They wrestled on the rug before getting up and Duncan attempted a handstand which ended with him falling back down with a flump to his bottom. Douglas giggled and you could only shake your head in amusement as you sat down on the sofa, Robert abandoning his chair to join you with a sigh, tucking an arm around your body as he watched the boys, displaying a pondering expression.

"I don't recall Frank and I ever being that rambunctiously cheerful at their size," he remarked softly.

"Well, from what I've heard, you were a rather unique child."

"I was sickly often; these boys are as healthy as horses."

"Well, besides that. I doubt those two will be giving a formal presentation to the New York Mineralogical Club on geology at age twelve, although you never know."

"True, but look at them; they have such modes of sensory perception and imaginations that are lost on us adults. What if they could solve the most complex problems with simplicity?"

You leaned your head tiredly onto his shoulder as he rubbed your forearm, the cramps returning and you had the thought that you wouldn't entirely mind skipping periods for pregnancy... but child rearing full time was daunting and you weren't ready for it even though the mere thought of such breeding such domesticity with Robert made you a bit weepy... or maybe it was just the period swinging your hormonal emotions about. But there is still a bright flash of reality; wasn't this how modern life, the human experience, was meant to be and what awaited you in the future if you had Robert's children?

You glanced at him, trying to read his contemplative expression. Was he thinking similar family thoughts and reflective of his own childhood, or was he only pondering his work, scientific equations, the war, or even... Jean Tatlock? You hoped not on the latter. He could be difficult to read most times, on a different wavelength from the rest of humanity and you considered yourself one of the few people in his life that felt only a minor alienation from his brilliance and knew to leave him there in his mind, for it was his true home until he orbited back to the present with everyone else.

Duncan climbed up onto the sofa, yawning widely and his brother joined a second later, scooting to your side and his chestnut orbs looked up at you with a hint of longing.

"I miss Momma," he whispered and you glanced at the clock on the wall that showed a quarter to six.

"She'll be here soon," you told him comfortingly and sure enough, not five minutes past six o'clock, there was a rap at the door. Robert stood up as you urged Douglas off the sofa and went to awkwardly scoop up his sleepy tuckered out little brother in your arms, carrying him to the door. Mrs. Thompson was relieved and so were you as you handed her youngest son off into her arms (he was heavier than he looked!) and Douglas hugged her legs happily. She thankfully didn't seem to notice or care that they weren't spotlessly clean.

"You two are so gracious, I can't thank you enough."

"No need to, we are glad to be of assistance," Robert told her sincerely and as he invited her and husband for the soonest party, you were reminded of something.

"Hold on, I have something for you before you go," you announced to her and dashed off to the kitchen to snatch up the neck of a wine bottle off the counter from your earlier attempts of purging. You presented it to her as a gift, causing her to light up in surprised elation.

"Oh, this is a delight!"

"Take it as a token of friendship," you told her as Douglas pulled impatiently at her pant leg.

"Wanna go home," he moaned and she thanked you and Robert again before slinging Duncan over her shoulder and clutching the wine in her free hand.

"Goodnight," you and Robert both called out, and you gave Douglas a little wave as they walked down the pathway and to the road. You slowly closed the door and Robert turned to you, brushing a strand of hair back towards your ear and you almost thought he might lean in for a kiss, but then he moved away, occupying himself with lighting a cigarette instead.

Later that night when you both are laying awake in bed, he seemed to sense something was up as you were curled with your back to him, riding the waves of aching pain shooting through your lower abdomen and back, waiting for the second painkiller pill to kick in while feeling mildly depressed. His hand warily made contact with your shoulder and you stirred, rolling over to face his concern.

"What is so wrong? Is it because of those boys? It was very considerate of you, but we don't have to have them over again for awhile."

"No, not at all, it's not their fault. I've been dealing with my cycle that began this morning and it's been rather... difficult on top of whatever is happening with our relationship."

Realization dawned on him and he adjusted the sheets, cocooning you and him closer together.

"I suppose tonight isn't an appropriate night for any activity then?" he asked knowingly and you shook your head, but moved into his body, fingers needlingly grasping his night shirt and he put a hand to your hip, stroking your butt and crotch soothingly.

"Cramps?" he asked in a hushed voice and you only nodded, closing your eyes.

"Let me help," he offered and you shifted to allow his hands to massage into your lower stomach and thighs, making you squirm at the kneading pressure.

"Just let Daddy take care of you, alright?" he whispered huskily into your hair and the blush inflamed your cheeks, making you twist your neck to meet his seductive eyes.

"You understand it?"

He only shrugged, nonchalant.

"It's unusual and I feel a bit perverted for using such a term for romantic purposes, but I suppose there is psychology behind it."

You stayed quiet, letting him do rhythmic circles into your skin and if you didn't feel so raw and achy, you'd be wholly aroused to high heaven.

"Were there any calls today?" you asked curiously in a casual tone, testing if he'd tense, but his fingers remained steady and relaxed as they gently rubbed into the folds of your skin.

"There won't be any for a while," he answered and now you were the one ending up tense.

"A while? What does that mean?"

Robert exhaled heavily, blowing his warm smoky breath to your forehead.

"I can't guarantee there will never be further word during the duration of our stay here. Two, three years can feel like eternity and she may still love me."

"Then she'll just have to move on. You need to get your head straight and devote your energies here to work, to life with me, not back in Berkeley."

"I intend to and I will, but Jean knew me like no other and she sees me as an incomparable love. She hasn't seen any other man since me."

"That's not what you should ever tell your wife," you muttered bitterly, hating that he was making this sound as if this was all her fault.

"Every affection I have for various women is different. You happen to be my life partner, an equal for the long journey, and I would never replace that. But Jean doesn't have what I do and one never forgets their first brightest flame."

"Must be nice to have a list of lovers to pull from. I don't care what she thinks, I care about what you feel. What is Jean to you alone?"

He didn't answer for a long while and finally you tilted your head to gaze at him with a frown.

"Answer me, Robert."

He licked his lips and spoke very softly, fondly.

"She was a possibility and then I found you and my world was altered. I knew I had to marry you instead and I did, didn't I?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No, never. There is only one Aphrodite in my universe and that is you, my love. No one else compares."

You bit your lip, refusing to tell him about the information you were given from his own secretary yesterday. Besides, you had no solid proof of that note anymore, just hearsay that he could deny, and as much as it pained you to shove this issue under the rug, you had to in order to protect your husband.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"For...?"

"All the bad timing and for being a mess through it, I suppose."

"You can't control it."

"I know, but..."

"But what?" he asked pressingly.

"What's happening to us? It's this place, I think there is just something about living here, it feels..." you trailed off, unable to dress up your emotions with words that would be tailored enough to fit the frustrated mood.

"Los álamos, the poplars," he stated abruptly and you blinked.

"Okay, what of that?"

"On the banks of the Acheron river of the Underworld, they were resurrected pillars of death-"

"You're citing Greek mythology again, aren't you?" you interrupted and he suppressed a chuckle.

"Yes, I am. Do you suppose we are living in our own version of the underworld here at Los Alamos? We have departed from the living in some fraction, rowing down such a proverbial river to Hades, outcast by the great Zeus..." he trailed off, sounding nearly emotional at his own metaphors.

"I'm not sure about that, but I do know only you could take such natural beauty and see it doomed."

Robert was silent for a while and then he sat up, tossing the sheets off and swinging his legs out of bed and you raised eyebrows, watching as he walked out of the room to return a moment later with a journal in his hands and climb back into bed. You scooted down to rest your head in between his legs, letting him place the journal in his lap as he flipped it open, ruffling pages and you had a feeling of what he was perusing.

"I've never heard your poems read aloud before," you murmured with your eyes half shut and he shifted self consciously, hesitant.

"I'm an inferior poet, it really isn't meant or fit for oratory sharing..." he protested.

"If it's legible, read it," you ordered and he sighed, beginning to read quietly and slowly, savoring every word.

"It... It was evening when we came to the river with a low moon over the desert that we had lost in the mountains, forgotten, what with the cold and the sweating and the ranges barring the sky..."

His voice gradually lulled you to a sleepy state and as he read the last line - "We didn't look back at the mountains" - you dozed off to muddle through dreams that were of strange visions of white pine trees extending into skeletal fingers scratching at the cobalt sky, shadows dancing down darkened corners in hallways as you ran, running towards the haunting sounds of children crying, but you never could get there to comfort them... and then you wondered if you were not aching to get to them, but far away. Glancing down, you saw a pair of shoes but no feet filling them, and you realized were as empty as a ghost; no body propelling anything forward as though there was no sense in motion at all. You opened your mouth to scream, but of course there was no existing voice in your throat...

You abruptly woke up with a jolt sometime in the witching hour of the early morning tinged in a sticky sweat and saw that Robert was out cold on his back, his journal having slipped from his clutch to lay facedown on his stomach and you very carefully picked it up to place it on the bedside table before exiting to the bathroom to change out your pad and fill a hot water bottle, and then you grabbed a thin blanket and sat down in a chair, straddling the warm rubber in between your thighs and wrapping the blanket around your chilled frame, watching the moonlight track ever so slowly across the wood floor as a hour gradually ticked by. You lit a cigarette and took a long drag, ruminating on Robert's poem (which now you barely remembered from the lack of consciousness) but that one last line lingered on your tongue.

"We didn't look back at the mountains."

It seemed symbolic to how you felt about the past with his ex-lovers and wishing he would learn to face forward in the saddle with you and focus on the horizon instead of taking trips back into old forays. Or maybe you had to be the one to move on from all the doubts and let this go because surely a marriage couldn't survive on such strings of sad suspicion, of done summits. Besides, he had more important mountains to conquer here, whether this location be just an expansive landscape in the American Southwest originally belonging to the Indians, or a version of the infamous "Underworld" that was imitating Robert's love of such old folklore.

Hell, this was only the beginning.

Thanks for reading, this one was interesting to write especially with adding the children in and they may come back later on. Next chapter though will definitely be more smut focused ❤️

#j robert oppenheimer x you #j robert oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer au #oppenheimer x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #oppenheimer 2023 #cillian murphy #oppie #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy smut #oppenheimer smut #robert oppenheimer x y/n #oppenheimer film #oppenheimer x y/n #oppenheimer fanfiction #part of a series #part 3 #my writing #winnie's writing #don't like don't read #don't like don't interact

[kyupidos]

02/29/24’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

my <3 turned around and i felll T-Tヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘cringe alert cringe alert. cater tripped, hurt his knee, now you’re helping him.’

characters. heartslabyul : cater diamond ( separate ) ;; romantic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader may or may not be yuu ( up to the reader ), pre-relationship, uhhh scraped knee nd blood, bit of an open ending cuz i’m not writing allat, romantic fluff

📡 _a/n. cater diamond you will be missed… ( he’s not dead i just barely write for him LMAO )

c. diamond

— eeek, embarrassing..he just tripped in front of his crush didn’t he? now cater’s gone and scraped his knee and’s looking like an absolute idiot in front of you. he’d totally make a rant post about it all on his private magicam account if it weren’t for the fact that he’s currently in the present time, sat in the nurse’s office and being tended to by a rightfully concerned you. i mean it was only five steps before he finished walking down the staircase, and yet here you and he were..loser moment!

— he’s forced to take a deep breath in, hitching when you carefully apply some rubbing alcohol on his knee since he’s rolled up his pant leg, where there’s only just a bit of blood around the area; but it hurts nonetheless. “uh, sorry cater, i tried to apply it as light as possible..guess that didn’t work out, huh?” you tried to joke, and thankfully cater’s up for that as he awkwardly laughs, not at you but at himself for being so obvious with the way he jolted his leg at the touch.

— “well, at least we’ll get to skip the last class of the day, right?” cater tried, and you couldn’t help but snort at that. “yeah, that’s totally the reason i went ahead and brought you to the nurse’s office.” finally there was a lesser awkward tension in the air as you got up from where you were crouched when you tended to his leg, looking around for some bandages—you’re pretty sure you’ve seen some around here..

— meanwhile cater’s staring at his scraped up knee, and he can’t help but feel twistedly flustered at the way his little injury was what led to something like this. not like he’d do this again, obviously; 0/10 injury, 9/10 hurt factor. he turned his attention to you, who with a little searching around managed to get hold of the ever so elusive..bandages. and, he gets even more flustered as he’s left to watch as you tenderly wrap the bandages around his knee.

— but with one particular wrap around the knee, it seems you must’ve done so a little too tightly, because cater ended up sucking in a deep breath again, trying not to make it too audible this time around—but of course you ended up hearing, huh? you smiled apologetically up at him in your crouch before looking back down at his knee, “haha, my bad..” and in a split second moment of silence you teased, “do ya want me to kiss it better?”

— no, nevermind. cater will in fact be missed, cause of death: his crush teasingly asking if he wants them to kiss his knee better. but he needs to be quick, right?! he needs to respond!! damn it cater diamond, think of something, think of something—

— “heheh, i wouldn’t mind it~!”

#🦢 swan signed ! #kyupidos #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twst x gender neutral reader #twst hcs #twst headcanons #twst fluff #book 1 #twst book 1 #heartslabyul #twst heartslabyul #cater x reader #cater x gn reader #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond x gn reader

[wolfspurr]

So, I might have lost my mind and decided that being in four teams for this year's @sterekreversechallenges Reverse Bang was a good idea. I wasn't planning on writing two fics, but I saw the art and immediately knew that me and @sugareey-makes-stuff had to work together and the rest, as they say, was history! We pushed it to the wire with the last chance deadline (sorry, and thank you mods!), but somehow (despite a lot of interference from life) managed to get this done, and I'm really proud of what we achieved. We definitely worked for it!

So, here's my final offering for the Sterek Reverse Bang 2023. I hope you all enjoy it <3.

Molten (27896 words) by sugareey, Wolfspurr Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Sterek Reverse Bang 2023, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Kidnapping, Magical Accidents, Accidental Bonding, Spark Stiles Stilinski, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Pack Beta Derek Hale, Idiots in Love, Some Humor, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Sharing a Bed, Meddling, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Frustration, Hand Jobs, Shower Sex, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Awkward Conversations, Kissing, Feelings Realization, POV Stiles Stilinski, Digital Art, Illustrations

Summary: "Stiles, is that you?" He recognizes that voice. He doesn’t know why he’s hearing it here though, in whatever cold, dark cave he’s found himself in. The owner of that voice is supposed to be miles away, back home in Beacon Hills. Unless Stiles is the one that’s ended up further from home than he could possibly have predicted. "Derek?!"

Read it Here

#derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek #sterek fic #sterek art #teen wolf #my writing #my fic #eternal sterek #fic #sterek fanfic #fanfic #sterek reverse bang #stiles stilinski x derek hale #stiles x derek #sterek is eternal

[epickiya722]

Okay, I ranted about it in my tags of another post, but I'll say it here. And I know some of you ain't gonna like it.

The amount of hate Mei Mei gets is an example of how people can't actually handle complex and/or evil female characters.

Now before anyone says anything, I'm not saying you should like Mei Mei or you shouldn't hate her. Just really think about what I'm about to say next.

Do you hate Mei Mei because of her character (how she treats people, her personality, etc,)? Or do you hate her because she's a woman?

If it's the former, think about this and see if your answer changes.

Think about all the male characters you like that are complex and/or evil and why you like them. Did your answer change? In fact, do you like a male character worse than Mei Mei?

Now, here's the thing.

It's really odd to me that people will be like "we need more complex female characters" and yet when we get those female characters, the fandom acts like they shouldn't exist.

"Oh, she's a bitch."

"She should die."

"She deserves all the pain and suffering."

And yet, male characters who are just as bad or worse easily can get people glazing the hell out of them and dropping panties. Where is that same hating ass energy? Don't you want the male character to die, too?

That's an issue. Do you see the issue?

Still using Mei Mei as an example.

I doubt, I do, that Gege intends for people to like Mei Mei. Quite the opposite. The way her scenes are written and drawn makes me feel like the mangaka wants us to feel intimidated by her in a bad way. We're supposed to feel uncomfortable by her relationship with Ui Ui. We should feel some hate towards her.

However, not because she's a woman. It's because of her character. She's not written to be a good person.

This is going to sound awkward, but if you hate Mei Mei because she makes you uncomfortable gender be damned, then you're hating her right.

You hate her now just as you would if she was a man.

I'll use Sukuna for example for comparison. He does has his fans (as does Mei Mei), but he does have his haters.

However, it's not because he's a man. People don't hate him because he's a man.

It's because he's downright damn evil. He murders, he tortures, he uses and abuses, he doesn't care who you are he'll cut you down. The only person we know Sukuna actually never wants to kill and never shown any sort of annoyance to is Uraume. People say Gege is glazing Sukuna and are mad because it seems he keeps winning, but has no one stop to think THAT'S THE POINT?!

You're supposed to be frustrated that Sukuna is still around. Gege keeps throwing Sukuna in our faces to make the audience mad. Not to troll. It's how stories work. You should feel different emotions. Especially with bad people like Sukuna.

If Gege wanted us to sympathize with Sukuna, Sukuna would have been gotten his sad backstory. But no, when there was a chance for that (fight with Hajime), we get a line of Sukuna saying he was unwanted or whatever and him just brushing it off. That right there is a sign of an explicitly evil, unsympathetic villain. (We might get a sad backstory later, you knows, but I kinda doubt it.)

Now apply all that I just said about Sukuna to Mei Mei and rethink over this.

Do you hate Mei Mei because she's a woman or because she's a bad person?

To end, can you actually handle complex female characters? Can you hate a female character who is evil or ambiguously evil and/or complex because that's how the author may intended (or she just isn't your kind of character) and not because she's female?

#that's all I really gotta say #we need more complex female characters #we get them and still act fucking nuts and continue to act thirsty for the male characters who are just as bad or worse #i like a complex character regardless of gender #like curious from bnha #i don't care what anybody says she was the best pla character #re destro is just... ugh to me as the other guys #but her? CURIOUS WAS GREAT #just kiya's thoughts #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #jjk manga spoilers #mei mei #mei mei jjk