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kaiser-author-san-iii · 1 year

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Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem)Creator!Reader

A/N: holy Tsarista, I did not think that it would be this popular. Thank you so much!! It's been a couple months since I got into Genshin, but I'm glad that the Harbinger trailer dropped cause otherwise, this probably wouldn't have existed lol. I apologize for the late update. I have been quite stumped in the plot and just taking a moment to come up with one. If I didn't tag everyone, I'm sorry! DM or reply to be added to the taglist! :3

Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially hard when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only a Fatui Skirmisher but a Fatui Harbinger?

Tags/warnings: female reader, God!reader, Cult AU,

Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora.

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Chapter 2: The Creator's Welcome

Silence.

What could be said while the entire palace and the surrounding area waited with bated breath for their Grace to awaken?

They were fervent - they waited to leave and search for the "meaner" that has done harm to their Beloved but that would leave their Previous Grace with only the Heir for company and guard.

The Precious Heir - they have heard of them only from what was written centuries ago. He was beautiful - he was innocent and was crying for their Grace to wake up all while the Harbingers stood by with the Tsarista finally making her appearance, rushing towards the bed that their Grace rested in, bending the knee and holding their hand.

"Your Grace. Your Excellency. Oh, my Beloved Creator. What has that Meaner done to you?"

Nugget never left your side as he clutched onto your waist, but being careful with your arms as he was told by the blue-haired man with the mask. He was a doctor and clearly knew what he was talking about so the little one made sure to listen well. The Doctor man and the others gave them a room which is what his Auntie expected and though he was focused more on taking care of you, it was nice to wander around the room all while the Harbin Gingers (It was some word that he had trouble saying) always came to check on him and his auntie and even gave him coloring books and sweets and fruits. It was all so good and he made sure to save you some whenever you were going to wake up.

But he especially loved the Tsarista and Columbia (Colombina)

They were very nice. They held him when you were still asleep and he couldn't be there for the operation.

For what seemed like forever, when it was only a matter of four days, the bed shifted as Nugget was reading the latest book that the guy with the funny hat gave him. He wanted to read it to you when you woke up and his wish was soon coming true as he felt movement and looked over to see your [E/c] eyes. He gasped and immediately snuggled into the sheets and wrapped his small arms around your waist.

"Auntie! You're awake! You're awake!"

Soft wet globs of tears started to stain your shirt as you looked down at the child who held you tightly and didn't want to let go. It would have been endearing if it wasn't for the fact that you had almost died from possible blood poisoning from ignoring your wounds. Your Nephew remembered seeing a lot of gold and despite still learning, he knew for a fact blood was red.

Carefully holding him up and ruffling his hair, you kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away.

"I'm sorry I made you worry, Nugget. I promise, I'll be sure to look after myself but my main concern was you."

That response earned a pout but your nephew thought it was good enough for now. If you weren't healthy and in one piece, how are you supposed to find a husband or a wife?!

"Just don't go to sleep anymore or at least for a long time. You made everyone worry!"

"Everyone?"

At the mention, your Nephew saw the clear confusion on your face and smiled brightly, but with a glint of mischievousness as he swiftly, with his small feet could go, hopped out of bed but careful to stay clear from your arms, rushed to the door and yelled out.

"Auntie [Y/n] is awake!" he said with a bright smile that was quite contagious, but it was last minute that you saw a figure by the door, or make it two figures. They had hoods over their head but it was the masks that covered their identities - the sheer happiness was clear from their body movements and one of them rushed out to who knows where while your nephew ran back to your side and started to share all the books he's read while you were recovering.

He's always had trouble reading so it was a feat itself to see him now reading at his supposed grade level. He still had trouble with certain words but nothing to worry about.

While trying to process all that was happening around you, you heard multiple footsteps before the door flew open, and in walked in about a dozen people.

Your face heated up at seeing all the gorgeous faces quickly surround you, pulling your nephew close to your side, weary of what else could happen. But you could have sworn that there was a hint of sadness in their eyes from your pull away from them.

"Don't be scared. They helped us! They helped you! Especially the Doctor man." Your nephew grinned as he held your hand and decided to make you sit up and face the group properly and pointed at the Doctor. The Doctor that he mentioned was practically preening from the praise like a peacock showing off its feathers.

The grip on his hand lessened as you looked at all twelve people one by one. It didn't take a rocket scientist to distinguish the power that they all radiated. Though at the time, you didn't know of the power you held yourself.

The elegant lady with long white hair, icy blue eyes, and who seemed to scream 'Ice Queen', slowly walked up to your bedside with a gentle smile as her hand moved to slowly hold yours. Now, you wouldn't have minded if it was your nephew or family, but this was a stranger. A stranger with a very firm grip despite how delicate it was.

"Now. How shall we punish the meaner that's done this to you?"

Eh?

-x-

It was... a change to have people cater to your every whim despite half of them being just jokes like bringing you the finest gem. The honor of bestowing such a gem was by none other than the 9th Harbinger, Pantalone.

Your nephew was having a great time, especially when he got to get along with a majority of the Harbingers and the Fatui, who took the mission of entertaining Nugget very seriously.

Once your arms were good as new, you asked for the group of Fatui soldiers that you and your nephew first encountered. At first, they were adamant about having you and Nugget leave the palace but you needed to get back to your car and get the rest of your things.

But funnily enough, you don't remember a palace or an organization going by the Fatui in your life...

Not to mention, these people seemed to recognize you and your nephew despite you two not knowing any of them.

If you thought of it more, a headache occurred and the Tsarista was adamant in asking you to save your energy and that it didn't matter if you recognized them. That all that mattered was that you and the Heir were fine.

While bedridden, your Nephew had the privilege to waltz around like he owned the place and even got you some books to read in the meantime. You saw mentions of a Divine Creator, a God-like figure that was first in creating the world around you and beyond, the one that made the stars and skies. A Divine Creator from the Beyond gave life to a speck in the skies and named it Teyvat and thus, its first child was born.

During a certain period when the Creator was roaming freely, they announced that their sister was with child and so, the Creator named the unborn babe the Heir to Teyvat.

The book was quite the read and wanting to know more about why the people around you and Nugget called you the Divine Creator and the Heir, you took it around with you.

"Your Grace, you must bundle up. Snezhnayan winters are quite brutal. People freeze to death here, quite literally in fact." announced a Fatui sniper, the one that first saw you and Nugget as he came behind you and placed a coat, courtesy of Pantalone of course, on your shoulders and your nephew too.

Stepping out to the brutal snow, instead of the harsh snow that you were expecting, it was a light snowfall that shocked the group of Fatui that decided to travel with you.

[Nephew's Name] stepped out from behind you and cheered happily as he rushed out to the snow and started to play, making snowmen and snow angels with, of course, the Fatui looking out and being won over by the child's heart-felt giggles.

They were all trying to make sense of why the snowfall was reduced to just light snow instead of the blizzards they're used to until they recalled that their Divine Grace and the Heir were right here with them. Teyvat was the Divine Creator's first child and as the loyal child it was, it could always sense where they were. Though Snezhnaya was the domain of the Tsarista, the Cryo Archon, the Divine Creator's word was Law.

Ehe.

Everything came to a slow stop as the world first heard the giggle from the Creator and with each step that you had taken, noticeable patches of green started to appear and grow more and more. The chilled winds of winter called down as the grey skies parted to make way for the rays of the sun.

The Tsarista felt the pause of winter, looking out that the frozen lands of her region have warmed up to what it had been long ago before her ascension.

Her Grace has given warmth back to the frozen tundras of Snezhnaya to the point that the flora and fauna basked in the sunlight. "Nugget. Be careful. The snow is melting."

And like that, the snow stopped melting just enough for your nephew to enjoy making snow angels.

'Welcome to Teyvat, Divine Creator!'

TAGLIST:

@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno , @anonclyde , @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir

@yunsblog030 , @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33

#genshin self aware #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #Harbingers x reader #Fatui harbingers #genshin cult au #sagau #Dottore x reader #Pantalone x reader #Scaramouche x reader #Childe x reader #Capitano x reader #Coloumbina x reader #Sandrone x reader #Pierro x reader #female reader #Signora x reader

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iamasaddie · 6 months

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if I'm still alive, my regrets are few

PIMP!Joel masterlist

paring: Joel Miller x fem!afab!Reader

rating: explicit

word count: 6k

summary: still scared of what's to come your brain comes up with an unexpected escape plan, that forses you to learn things about yourself

warnings (for the chapter): FonF 69 (thank you @milla-frenchy for the inspiration and prompt), oral m receiving, fingering, questionable sex positions but it works in my head; light praise kink; light dirty talk, Tess is a queen

a/n: wow, it's here, isn't it? i can't believe my eyes. un-betaed, finished at midnight, i will come back to edit if there are any magor mistakes i didn't see on my fifth reread. hope you enjoy it, don't forget to leave a comment!

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

“Fuckety fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The smell of the burning food hit your nose and you ran out of the bathroom, hands covered in soapy foam up to your elbows. When you left Joel last night, it was with the heavy burden of guilt. You knew you shouldn’t have done that, yet you did it anyway and now you faced the consequences. Joel had more than every right to be angry with you, but you felt that nagging pang, that someone was rightfully mad at you, that he was mad at you, and it made you feel sick to your stomach.

You've been tossing and turning all night, expecting for Joel to show his face like he did the first night, but it looked like sex made him less of a light sleeper. Unable to find calmness in unconsciousness, you got up, making up your mind.

Obviously, you couldn't take what you did back, and you'd already said you were sorry, but you thought you could go an extra step, do something nice for Joel. If not to mend your relationship, then to at least make sure he wouldn't give you five clients in one day.

You shuddered.

You made peace with yourself, praying, meditating, and just turning off your brain accepting that the day had finally come. You knew that you learned enough to be a decent birdie, even though your confidence was still lacking. Sometimes you thought that you had some kind of a know-at-all syndrome, like you needed to know everything and maybe more to finally walk with you head up. Shaking your head, you sighed, there was no way Joel would spend any more of his time on you, he made that clear, but at least you could part on good terms.

That was how you ended up flooding his small bathroom with foam caused by using too much detergent, and burning the eggs you decided to make for breakfast at the same time.

You hurried to take the smoking pan off the stove, but the handle was too hot so you ended up dropping it barely escaping your feet.

“What the hell's goin' on?” Joel's groggy voice was not a surprise, yet you hoped you'd have some time to clean up. Plastering the sweetest smile you could manage, you looked up at him.

“Good morning, Joel, I made breakfast!”

He looked at your feet where the pan was still smoking, eggs burned to a crispy black edge, and raised his eyebrows. “If that's a good mornin', I'm afraid to ask what a bad one looks like.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, you seem to say that a lot.” He clenched his jaw and brought his hands to his face, rubbing his cheeks and bringing some color to them. “Can you fix that? I'll go wash up. We’ve got a long day.”

You just nodded, squatting to get the pan. The burnt smell made your eyes water, and you hurried to drop it in the sink, throwing away the egg remnants and filling the pan with water.

Water.

“What the fuck happened in the bath?!”

Fuck.

You pushed reheated yesterday’s dinner around your plate, every piece of food sticking to your throat, making it almost impossible to swallow. Joel in front of you didn’t seem to have such a problem. When he finished shoveling down the last bits of breakfast - both of you kept the space around you drenched in silence - he moved the plate away and leaned back on the chair. He tilted his head to the side a little, scratching the spot where the hair was missing on his outgrown stubble.

“Nervous?” His voice startled you, and you dropped the fork on the table creating more irritating noise.

“Nah,” you tried to brush off, but he looked at you intently, and you gave up. “Yeah, a lot.”

Joel nodded like he wasn’t expecting any other answer, he dropped his hand from his face and placed both of them on the table, hands in fists but not tense. “Don’t be.” He said simply, and you wanted to laugh at his ignorance. Like it was him that was going to sell his body to strangers. “You’re a good girl, have a good cunt. You’ll be just fine.”

You choked on air hearing his compliment but still mumbled thanks, not really convinced by his words. Joel let out a long breath, patting his stomach with one hand with the other still on the table.

“What are you nervous about?”

It was the longest conversation you had in the last three days, and you felt kind of grateful. Even if he didn’t really show it, you knew he’d just leave you wallowing in terror if at least a tiny bit of him didn’t care about you. That made you feel warm inside. Perhaps a burnt breakfast and half washed laundry was a key to a man’s heart.

“I don’t think I know…” you started slowly, trying to find the right words inside your brain. “I don’t know everything I need to know. Like,” a couple dozens of examples ran through your mind but you landed on the least helpful one. “What was the weirdest thing a client asked?”

Joel raised his brows, dark brown pools hidden under them looked at you with wonder. Clearly, he didn’t expect that. He sat up straighter, while still trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

“We’re not some… fetish club. Everything that happens at ‘Eden’ is pretty classical. Maybe…”

He stopped himself, and that only grabbed your attention more. You leaned on the table, as if moving closer to Joel would make him speak. Your bones were trembling with all the ideas your brain provided. How bad was it? Did they hang people up with hooks? Could clients cut you for the right price? Were they allowed to shove stuff in your? Your pussy clenched in fear.

“What?” You heard your voice tremble, already wound up from your own thoughts.

“I dunno,” Joel shrugged his shoulders and swiped his thumb over his brow, making the hairs stick out a little. “Sometimes women come and ask for a girl. But I wouldn’t call it weird. It’s still sex.”

For a moment you felt the weight of the world dropping from your shoulders. If woman on woman was the weirdest thing happening in that place, it was far from Sodom and Gomorrah playing out in your head. But as soon as relief came it was washed away.

“Wait, women?”

Joel nodded simply. “What, you have a problem with that?”

“No, I…” Fuck. You had just learned what sex was like with a man, and here you were, going somewhere where you needed to be Devil’s favorite call girl, who knew the tricks and secrets. And it wasn’t the fact that there could be women in your bed that was making you nervous, it was the fear of being unable to give them pleasure. The thought of an exasperated sigh followed by a condescending ‘it’s okay, sweetie’ in a fake, almost synthetic female voice in your head made you shiver. “I don’t know.”

“You don't know if you’re okay with having sex with a woman?” You kept your silence, not even able to give the answer to yourself, let alone Joel. But he kept giving ideas, followed by bright even if blurred pictures in your mind. “What if there’s a threesome? A client, you and one of my other girls?”

Now it was just getting scarier and scarier. It was one thing to disappoint just one woman, but to have an audience?

“No, I mean… I think I’m okay with having sex with women, I just never did, so I don’t think I can…” You tried to explain yourself, failing miserably. “It’s easier with men, you’re pretty basic in your pleasure.”

Joel barked out a laugh and you couldn’t ignore the warm twitch of your heart. You liked it when he laughed, he had a very special rasp to it, and he did it so rarely that you learned to treasure it.

“Week ago you couldn’t speak about sex without flustering, and now you’re what, dick whisperer?”

“I don't mean..-”

“I know what you mean. It's okay, I won't send you girls, yet.”

“Or maybe…”

An idea punched you in the head like a bright light early in the morning. Here it was, your salvation. Or, at least, postponement. You didn’t let yourself dwell on it, scared that you’d back up immediately, but as if Joel read your mind he tugged the words out of you with a simple question.

“Yes?”

“If you're fine with that… Maybe you could invite one of your birds over? To… to practice? The more I know the more money you'll get, no?”

You were scared to raise your eyes to meet Joels, instead studying all the ways you could bend your fingers this and that way. That was until you heard Joel’s chair creaking, and he took the similar position as you, with his elbows on the table, his head leaning to you so close that you almost touched.

“What has gotten into you, hm?” He whispered incredulously, you heard amusement in his voice. “Are you becoming a little nympho?”

“A whompho?”

You raised your head, your eyes immediately caught in the honey trap of his. He studied you for a while, and then got out the table, the chair legs screeching against the wooden floor. You didn’t move, just followed him with your eyes as he got dressed and prepared to leave the apartment.

“Clean up in here, we're having a guest over tonight.”

Your arms and knees were sore when you finished cleaning up. Taking in the results of your work you smiled proudly, the floors were clean, the blankets were folded, and it even almost stopped smelling like burnt eggs. You wanted to stretch on the couch, but were afraid that you’d fall asleep again, so you opted for sitting at the table, counting the little cracks in the old wood. Time was passing torturously slowly and you jumped at every sound you heard. But amidst the lingering anxiety, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. You tried to imagine how your evening would go, thinking about who Joel would bring and if he’d participate himself, and instead of being terrified at the idea of another woman in your bed, you felt arousal painting your panties.

A woman, just like you. Soft, gentle, complicated. Beautiful. Your mouth salivated. What would it feel like to kiss lips that are so similar to yours, what would you experience if you dive into the wetness of someone else’s pussy, bringing them pleasure like you learned to bring it to yourself.

You never thought about this aspect of yourself. Never had an opportunity to fully explore your attractions, so you just went with something that was automatically given, but now, you were thrilled. This whole experience became something way more important for you than you expected in the first place, you didn’t know if you were happy or terrified.

You heard the key turning in the lock, two pairs of boots stepping inside the apartment followed by two voices: one you knew intimately, and the other you didn’t know at all. Your heart raced as you stood up, caught between anticipation and anxiety.

A woman walked in, her eyes landing on you immediately. You tried saying hello, but the words stuck in your throat and you just stared back. She was gorgeous. Easily older than you, her eyes bearing more intellect and experience than you thought you could gather your whole life. She gave you a once over, stopping at your bare legs, covered to the mid-thigh by the t-shirt you borrowed.

Joel followed her into the kitchen and as soon as he stepped inside, you felt like you could breathe. Like everything was under control now.

“So,” the woman in front of you didn’t look very interested in anything besides you, her eyes watching your every twitch and tremor. She was calm, her voice quiet but strong. “You’re the famous rabbit, huh?”

You saw Joel tense up, the knuckles of his clenched fists became wide, and he looked at the woman with something like warning, which she ignored plopping down on a chair and taking his untouched cup of coffee from the table, the only thing you were afraid to pour out knowing how attached the man was to his caffeine.

You didn’t know you were famous already. Did that mean Joel was advertising you or something? Your cheeks burned. The woman in front of you was intimidating. No more than Joel, but intimidating nonetheless. It sent an unexpected shiver downpour spine and straight to your core. There was something undeniably sexy about her, you didn’t even wonder why Joel chose her for what you were about to do. She was still looking at you like she was expecting an answer, even though it was quite obvious. You nodded your head, coming closer and sitting down next to her.

“Guess I am.” You put your hand on the table, and soon after saw the woman letting go of Joel’s cup and placing her still hot palm on top of your, gently brushing over your knuckles while still looking into your eyes.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Tess.”

Tess, the sound of her name was like a whisper, like a delicious hiss of meat on a hot pan, something that made your heart race, and your cunt clench.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Tess.” You loved tasting her name on your tongue, her hand soft and warm around yours. You didn’t lie, it really was nice to meet her.

“You seem a little frightened, little rabbit,” she tilted her head, finding your eyes and smiling at you. “Did this big old dog scare you?”

She didn’t need to point at Joel for you to know who she meant. You shook your head, embarrassment heating up your neck.

“Then what is it, baby? You can tell Tess, I swear I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

“I just never, I…” You looked at Joel, and Tess did the same.

“Joel, can you leave us for a moment?”

You looked at Joel, taking in his form. His brooding form was still as a constipated statue, his jaw tense, you could almost hear his teeth grinding. He didn’t look at you, instead staring Tess in the eyes, as if communicating wordlessly. She handled his look without batting an eye.

“Tess…”

There was warning in his voice. You’ve heard it before once, but you still got the shivers running down your spine. Tess, on the other hand, remained unaffected, waving him off.

“Us girls need to chat. We’ll meet you in the room.” She vaguely pointed towards where his room was, and gave him a little smile before whispering sultry, “get naked, Daddy.”

You furrowed your brows at the nickname she gave him, something pinching your insides, but you shook the feeling off, turning your attention back to Tess. You didn’t know how she did it, but Joel listened to her, barely nodding and retreating to his room.

“Men, right?” She huffed, taking one of your hands in both of hers and squeezing. “So, rabbit, why you tremblin’?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Somehow it was easier to admit that to her. Maybe because she was a woman, or because she looked at you with such warmth that you took a chance trusting her.

“Does anyone?” Tess leaned back on the chair, still keeping one of your hands between hers. The gesture made you at ease, like she was taking all the stress away with a gentle brush of her thumbs.

You smiled, lowering your head a little. She did not look like a stupid woman, but you still decided to elaborate. “No, I mean like in bed, I don’t know what I’m doing in bed.”

“Again, does anyone?” Tess shrugged her shoulders. "Baby, sex ain’t math, you can’t have a perfect algorithm to make every encounter you have a hundred percent success.”

Unbelievable. She was fucking unbelievable. The look in the woman’s eyes didn’t change a bit when you bared your insecurities to her. You were no-one to Tess, maybe you were even a pain in the ass since Joel clearly took her here to ‘work’, and yet there was nothing that gentle care and understanding falling from her lips. Like she was afraid to hurt you, to scare you off. Such a strong-looking, intimidating woman with a confident stride and a sharp wit, and yet she handled you with such delicacy.

“Look, yes, we obviously have pleasure spots, kinks, fetishes that get us off without a fail, but you can only learn that with a partner. Someone who’s either open and loud about everything, or someone that has been with you for a long time. There’s no shortcut to a perfect sexual experience.”

You admired her ability to effortlessly navigate the sensitive topic with grace and honesty. In that moment she reminded you of Joel. She was telling you everything you were dying to hear, and still the nagging itch of hesitance disturbed your feelings. “But what if I mess up? Men are so much easier, you stroke their dick and they cum, easy peasy.”

“Don’t tell that to Joel,” she laughed quietly as you continued.

“Women are…”

Tess didn’t let you finish, softly slapping one of her hands on top of yours. “You know what, let me take the lead today, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t exactly know how to take what she was offering.

“I mean,” Tess leaned into you, your lips almost touching, “I am going to bury my face in your gorgeous pussy and show you all the right moves, and then you can do the same to me, okay?”

“I..” You licked your lips, your breathing speeding up.

“I take that as a yes.”

Tess stood up, not letting your hand out, and tugged you closer to her. You felt the heady, raw smell of her, mixed with something woody, almost like Joel. She dragged you towards Joel’s room, her arm around your waist keeping you close.

You stopped right before she opened the door.

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Sure, baby.”

“Why are you… doing this?”

“That’s a story for another time, little one.” Her eyes gloomed over with something that contradicted her confident smile. You didn’t need her telling you the who’s and why’s to know that this was not her first choice. For the first time you felt sick from being right. You didn’t want to be right, not with her. Not with this woman that calmed you down with one flirty smile, that looked at you like you were worth something. Like you were worth a lot. She placed her warm palm on your cheek, brushing your cheekbone with her finger and making you look back at her. “But it’s not as bad as it might look. And Joel, he cares. He really does.”

She didn’t wait anymore, opening the door and dragging you with her.

You realized that nerves and anxiety got the best of you when Tess closed the door behind you both, and gently shoved you towards Joel, who was already sitting naked on the made up bed, stroking his half hard cock lazily. The look of his massive hand going up and down the intimately familiar to you shaft was the last thing you could remember before giving your body off to Tess to deal with it how she deemed worthy.

She was gentle with you, undressing you both piece by piece, and then guiding you on the bed and laying down, completely ignoring Joel with his back to you. You were quiet, both of you, letting your bodies do the work.

“Don’t be shy, baby, let yourself go,” Tess whispered, before claiming you trembling lips with hers, and placing your hands on her soft breasts, her hands on top of yours and squeezing.

Oh, what a new feeling it was. She was all tender flesh and soft moans as your bodies started grinding against each other. At one point she tugged you on top of her, making you straddle her hips as your wetness became one mixture of pleasure and excitement. There was no shame, there was no awkwardness, just raw desire to give. Give more, more, more, hear her moaning louder and sweeter in your ears. Tugging on the long silky strands of her hair as her fingers found your heat without question, letting you know what a woman could do to you. How unique and unforgettable her touch could be.

You felt hers coming up to your eyes, pleasure and gratitude overwhelming you as Tess plunged two of her fingers inside of your drenched pussy, but they couldn’t leave your eyes as she kissed them away. You swiped your nose along hers, closing your eyes and for the first time initiating the sweet kiss between you.

“It’s all good, but we aren’t making love here, birdies.”

Joel’s voice was loud as a slap in an empty room. With Tess under you, in you, you completely forgot that the man was in the room, and he seemed to notice that. You tried to turn your head and look at him, but Tess grabbed your cheeks, still sealing your lips together even if for a moment. She let you go with a wet swipe of her tongue on your lower lip, “your lips are delicious, baby, but let me taste that beautiful cunt. Turn around and sit on my face.”

"What?” You whispered back in shock, not sure if Joel should hear what you say or not.

"Do as I say, okay? Be a good girl for me.”

You nodded dumbly. At that moment you wanted to be everything Tess could ever want, so if she wanted you to be on her face, who you were to say no.

You fought the awkwardness you felt as you took the position as fast as you could, immediately ending up on the same level with the woman’s pussy. You felt weird, crowding her head with your thighs, not exactly sure what you were supposed to do next, but Tess took the lead, roping your legs with her arms and practically shoving your face in her pussy, making you almost lay on her with your whole weight.

She didn’t wait for a signal, or a command from Joel, diving in your wetness eagerly, like it was her second nature, and - oh fuck - maybe it was her first.

You could barely contain the sweet moans as Tess let her lips wander and nip at your soft folds, swiping her tongue deep inside you before pulling out and gently circling your clit. She was less hungry, but more determined, perfectly aware of every little spot that made you twitch and shake.

With her tangy smell invading your senses, you didn’t even need to make a decision before tentatively sliding your own tongue through her leaking core. Apparently, what you thought was awkward, felt absolutely different for Tess because you felt her moan deep inside you before you could hear it. “Go on, baby, just like that.” She said, before giving each of your thighs a small bite and returning her attention back on your pussy. You didn’t need to be told twice, as you returned to your caresses, trying to replicate everything Tess did to you. When she plunged her tongue deep in your entrance, you greedily gulped down her arousal, when she sucked on your clit, repeatedly swiping the tip of her tongue up and down over your bud, you made sure that you gave her the same attention.

Either you were less sensitive, or she was more turned on, but as you brought two of your hands beneath her asscheeks, squeezing them and trying to press her glistening cunt harder in your face, what you could swear looked like you were trying to eat her alive, Tess started shaking, her movements on your pussy coming to a halt as her back arched up, lifting you both up.

Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful sound it was, you thought to yourself, still trying to lick up every drop of her that she left on your lips.

You felt the bed dip, and then someone’s hand lifting your head up by your hair.

“Good job, now you get a treat.”

“What?” Of course it wasn’t just someone, it was Joel, the man of whose existence you completely forgot as every part of your mind and body was dedicated to make a woman beneath you feel as much pleasure as you could. But he was always there, standing as a shadow, leaning on a wall with his hands tight in his fists, and his cock furious with arousal and untouched.

Now that same cock was centimeters away from your puffy lips, still glistening with Tess’ cum.

"You worked Tess beautifully, so let’s play out a scenario when you also have a man in the room. You wanted to learn, right?"

You could barely understand what he was saying, but with the woman’s lips back on your pussy and working you up to your orgasm vigorously, nothing looked more attractive than Joel’s cock in your mouth. The thought of his cum mixing with her in your mouth made you let out another stream of arousal and Tess hummed in your entrance.

You placed your hands on Joel’s hips, changing your position a little, but still straddling the woman’s face as he guided his cock in your waiting mouth.

“Fu-uck,” he exhaled, as you tried to shove as much of him as you could inside your mouth and moaned as his salty taste complemented the one of Tess’. Almost on autopilot, you hollowed your cheeks, saliva and cum that coated your lips made the glide of your mouth easier, and you fell into a perfect dance, as Tess fucked your hole with her tongue, and Joel fucked your mouth with his cock.

It was deliciously heavy and throbbing on your tongue, filling up the limited space of your mouth and inching down to tease the back of your throat with the fat head.

"What a perfect little whore, just fucking - God, you’re so greedy for my cock, just my cock, nothing else matters, baby.” You were delusional, every cell of your body screaming and itching, every pore electrifying as you felt Joel grab your throat with his wide palm and taking all the control from you. His cock relentlessly fucked into your heat, his words slurred and understood only by him, like he was just unable to keep his mouth shut.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, baby, feel your little throat real good, I know how bad you want it, saw you salivating over me, fuck, fuck, take it, just take it, baby.” His movements became erratic as his cock burst deep inside your throat. Just as you predicted, his salty, slightly bitter taste was a perfect combination for Tess’ honey still clinging to your palette. You didn’t expect Joel to cum so fast, when you were still on the verge of orgasm yourself, but you couldn’t complain. The man was the solution to your pleasure, the discovery you still tried to ignore, and now it was just one little lick, one suck from those skillful lips, and you felt you would - -

“That’s enough.” Joel’s voice was barely loud enough to pierce through the moans that continued leaving your opened mouth, and the deafening rush of your blood as Tess continued sloppily slurping on your pussy, shoving her tongue in your sensitive hole just to make you beg and whimper. Joel’s hand grabbed your head that you lowered as soon as he slid his softening dick out, and he yanked it up, making you look at him. His eyes concentrated on a drop of his cum that managed to escape your lips. He swiped his thumb and shoved it inside your open mouth, not reacting when you bit at it with your teeth while also licking the last remnants of him off. “I fucking said stop, Tess.”

Surprisingly to you, she listened. Her mouth unlatched from your puffy, glistening cunt, and you heard her smack her lips, saying nothing.

“No-no-no,” you started whining, Joel’s finger pressing on your tongue made the words slurred. You were so close, you knew, a couple more licks from Tess and you’d spray her face with your cum. You looked at Joel with confusion and anger.

He ignored the daggers from you, released his finger from your mouth furrowing his brows when you grazed his skin with your top teeth too hard, and patted Tess in her thigh. “You can go, birdie.”

“What? But I didn’t get to..-” you were interrupted by Tess gently pushing you off herself and you fell in your ass, body still buzzing with the undelivered orgasm. Tess made a quick work of her clothes, the woman got dressed even faster than undressed, and the look of curiosity that painted her face when she looked at Joel didn’t escape your attention. As she finished buttoning up, she came back to the bed where you were still naked, silent, and confused. Her soft hand caressed your cheek, and she lowered herself to be in the same face level with you.

“Don’t worry, baby, you’re gonna be fine.” She sealed her words with a gentle kiss, that you could barely feel on your lips.

As soon as the door behind her closed, you turned to Joel, staring him dead in the eyes. Was it his way of torturing you? “Why didn’t you let me cum?”

“We talked about it already on your first night, sometimes the client won’t be able to make you cum. Most of the time they won’t. But you still need to enjoy the process, you know. At the end of the day what’s more important is that your client comes, and both of yours did.”

“But she could make me come, Joel. You just stopped her!” You felt the boiling frustration overwhelm your senses, your hands twitched with violent intentions. You wanted to slap him right across his smug face.

“Could, couldn’t. It doesn’t matter now. She’s gone.”

He shrugged his shoulders, absolutely comfortable in his nakedness, his dick soft but still impressing and glistening from your saliva.

“Fucking great, just absolutely fuckin’ royal shit.” You shuffled from the bed, ripping the sheets you tugged over yourself to cover your nakedness and stomping on the way out of the room.

“Where are you going?” You turned back to look at Joel, he still didn’t move, but he didn’t smile anymore, instead he looked almost… disappointed?

“I am going to shove whatever you have in your freezer up my pussy, because this,” you vaguely pointed at your lower region, “is just painful.”

“Don’t you want to come?”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Not yet.”

Fucking Joel, with his fucking riddles and his fucking confidence and that stupid fucking dimple when he smiles at you like that.

“What’s the point of this lesson if you let me come then?” You still didn’t hide neither anger nor frustration from your voice, but this time they were accompanied by curiosity.

“The lesson is pretty simple, if you don’t get to come with your client, you can always come to me,” Joel pointed at himself, and it should’ve looked ridiculous with his naked state, but it didn’t, and it pissed you off, but more so it turned you on. “And I’ll help you as soon as you ask.”

“Will you help me?” You took a few steps towards him, already feeling arousal wetting the skin between your thighs.

“Told ya, just need to ask me that’s all.”

His eyes were fixed on you, seeing every move, and you already knew the hunger inside them. You didn’t need to ask, he would still give it to you. But you still played his game.

“Please, Joel, ” you placed your hands on his naked chest, letting the sheet you held as a cover drop on the floor, and your thumbs stroked his nipples, “make me cum.”

Joel almost shoved you back to the bed, hovering above you, bracketing you with his arms and thighs. You took one look

“Just like the first time, baby,” he whispered in your ear, kissing the shell of it with his words, “you’re even more riled up now.” Two of his fingers teased your swollen, almost raw from all the abuse clit, and then slowly sank in your pulsing wet entrance. “Bet it’ll only take a couple of strokes.”

You both hated and loved that he was right. You were right there, and Joel’s thick fingers filling you up more than four of Tess’ could just made you wanton. Mad with desire and pleasure he so freely gave to you, you soon became bouncing on his fingers yourself, trying to shove them deeper, trying to feel that sting that ruined you the first time.

“Come on, baby, I feel her squeezing me, she’s so close, let her go, let her cum, she wants it so bad,” he whispered in your neck, tasting the sweat that already covered your body.

“Please, please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for, your mind foggy with pleasure, pain, need, every little thing overwhelming your senses. You felt a sharp, stinging bite on your neck and that served as the last button, pushing you over and soaking Joel’s hand along with his sheets. Your moans overflowed his soft praise, and you didn’t feel the barely-there kiss he let himself leave in the middle of the throbbing bite mark.

“Am I your birdie now?” You felt weird sensations laying in his bed together. The intimacy of staying so close, the mix of sweat from your bodies mixed on your skin, when you’re not actually having sex felt raw and you hurried to sprinkle it with reality.

“Nah,” Joel lifted himself up on one elbow and leaned over you to grab a dozen cigarettes tied together by a rubber and a pack of matches. He laid back down, tugged one cigarette out and lit it. The smoke came out from his lips in one steady stream, but he made an attempt of twisting his lips to the side, so he didn’t blow it in your face. Joel continued looking at the ceiling, the only contact left between you two were your sticky shoulders glued back together. “How can you be my birdie, if you’re a rabbit? Rabbits can’t fly.” He finally looked at you, grazing you with a proud smirk.

Something warm spread inside you when you heard him call you by your nickname. Another wave of excitement spread beneath your skin, like when he so brazenly left a kiss on your neck. But then your heart slowed down, remembrance of what’s to come washing over you. Your sad smile didn’t share his joy, so you quietly sighed, it was your turn to stare at the crumbling plaster above your head.

“So what? It’s not like any of your birds got wings.” You chuckled softly, the sound catching in your throat.

don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter 🐇🤍

#iamasaddie fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller x female reader #tess servopolous x reader #tess x reader #htbs #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel x female reader

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lilywastaken · 1 year

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First of all I hope this is the request section second of all love your writings you’ve done so far <3 now to my request, I’ve been seeing way to many edits about dream in mr beast Antartica video. What if fem/reader went along with them and slept with in dream,sapnap, jimmy tent. It would be a dream x reader, friends to lovers or already a couple your choice :). Can’t wait to read more from you <3

⇝ARTIC COLD.

CC! DreamWasTaken x FEM!Reader.

SUMMARY: Spending 50 hours in Antarctica wasn't on your list of things to do this month, but neither was sharing a sleeping bag with your crush.

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of blood, illness (Dream's ill the whole time ☠️.), a lot of swearing!

A/N: My first request!! Thank you so much for it! <3 I chose the friends to lovers route with it, and kind of got carried away cause I love this idea (as you'll see)!! I'm actually really proud of this one, it might be my favourite piece of writing yet LMAO. Requests are still open!! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the post, it helps a lot!! Thank you all for the support! <33

WORD COUNT: 5.8K

MASTERLIST.

Also on ao3!

You were used to travelling at this point.

Living with some of the biggest content creators of the year and creating content yourself meant that you were always being invited to places, whether it be conventions or get-togethers with internet friends.

And although you were well acquainted with Karl and knew who he worked for, you had never expected to be invited to be part of one of Mr Beast's survival challenges alongside your roommates and his crew, and you would've been crazy to even imagine you'd be invited to travel to Antarctica of all places.

After living for half a year in one of the warmer states in the U.S., you didn't know how you were meant to survive below 0 degrees when all you had to wear were tank tops and the occasional long sleeved shirt.

Which meant you were stuck borrowing your roommates' big chunky jackets and sweaters that they had brought alongside them for the trip.

It wasn't as if you weren't used to borrowing clothes from them, hell, you were pretty sure most of your closet consisted of Dream's clothes that were too small to fit him anymore.

But that didn't make it any less embarrassing.

"You look like a penguin."

George snorted as soon as you stumbled out of the jet's tiny bathroom, sporting one of the many jackets you were required to wear before exiting the aircraft and stepping onto Antarctica.

"Go fuck yourself." You sneered back, zipping your coat up to your chin and shoving your hands into the pockets, somehow already feeling the chill from the outside despite not having landed yet. "I'm afraid I won't be able to look as stylish as you wish me to during our stay in fucking Antarctica."

"I think you look stylish enough." Clay teased cheekily as he walked up from behind you, large hands landing on your shoulders to manoeuvre you out of his way, causing you to roll your eyes long enough to cause a headache at the cockiness he was exhibiting simply because you had chosen to wear his clothes instead of anyone else's.

"You're just saying that because it's your jacket she's wearing." Nolan commented as Karl helped him zip up the last of the many coats he was wearing, a teasing tone in his voice.

"And she looks good in it, what's the issue?" Dream didn't seem to want to back down from their back and forth, as usually happened with those. When Nolan didn't respond, the blond turned his head around and shot you a grin along with a thumbs up, his silent way of boasting after one of his so-called wins.

"You're such an idiot." You muttered under your breath as Sapnap handed you one of the many scarves that were littered across the floor, and you for one were glad that you had something to cover your face, not wanting anyone to notice the warmth that had risen to your cheeks after your small interaction with Dream.

Despite you living with him for almost a full year, he had somehow never gotten the memo about your true feelings towards him, unlike both Sapnap and George and half of the goddamn internet, who were full-on convinced that you were head over heels for the previously faceless YouTuber, and to be fair, they weren't far off.

He'd been the first one to reach out after lurking around in your streams, the first one to invite you into their server and make an effort to include you into the ongoing lore, to add you to streams with his internet friends and therefore introduce you to the people who you now considered to be your best friends.

It was inevitable, really. After countless hours spent listening to each other's voices through your speakers and being one of the first people to see his face despite his initial fear of rejection, how could you not fall in love with him? He was perfect, from the way his nose crinkled when he smiled to the countless moles adorning his body, he was perfect.

It was stupid, really, how hard you'd fallen for someone who had started out as a simple stranger on the internet who happened to also play Minecraft to one of the people you loved the most.

And you were going to make sure that he'd never know how much you truly loved him, the chances of your confession ruining the friendship you both had built too high to even consider.

"Why are you guys just standing around, we're about to land!" Jimmy came out of the cockpit, clapping his hands together and ushering everyone towards their luggage in an effort to get you to get ready quicker. "Come on! I don't want any of you catching frostbite and dying on me!"

"Wait, that's possible!?"

Despite all the layers of clothing Dream was currently sporting, he somehow managed to feel your hand wrap around his elbow, shuffling closer to his taller build as you readied to exit the aircraft.

"You okay?" He pulled his ski mask down below his lips so he could send you a reassuring smile, his juniper eyes obscured by the ski goggles that sat snuggly on his face.

"Yep. Totally okay. Totally not freaking out because we're about to spend 50 hours in the coldest place on earth. Totally fine, Clay." Your words came out of your mouth almost at the speed of light as your gloved hands fumbled with the scarf around your neck, receiving a laugh from the blond in response.

"Calm down. I doubt Jimmy will actually let us die, okay?" He moved your hands away from your face and fixed your problem himself, the smile on his lips only growing as his fingers brushed against your warming cheeks, a huge contrast to the cold air swirling outside.

"And if you do, just make sure to tell everyone to like and subscribe, okay?" A small 'oof!' left you as Chandler slammed his hands on your shoulders from behind, getting a slightly angered glare from Dream and a few giggles from the others at his action.

"Fuck you, man." You smiled, the sweet yet very brief encouragement you'd received lifting your spirits almost immediately.

But they were swiftly dampened as the doors opened, and holy fucking shit, you'd underestimated how cold it was going to be.

The sun was shining onto your small group, but not a single trace of warmth was felt on your skin, and oh god what you'd give to be back home curled underneath your bed covers holding Patches in your arms.

Jimmy didn't spare a single second to start the challenge, already heading over to the spot he'd claimed would be perfect for the makeshift camp that would be your home for the next two days.

Luckily, you'd been tasked with carrying one of the lighter pieces of luggage, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't almost busted a lung laughing whenever you saw one of the boys slip or trip and fall flat on their faces, but you did stop every time Dream stopped to cough, knowing he had caught a chill right before boarding the plane and the freezing temperatures you were being forced to travel through would likely do him no good.

After surviving a surprise blizzard and almost slipping a few times, you finally reached the spot Jimmy had marked in his mental map. You were almost ready to collapse into the soft looking snow, but of course, you were forced to put up the tents you'd be staying in, which proved even more difficult than propping up a normal tent in the woods, thanks to the never ending wind and slippy snow.

But as soon as you were allowed into the safety of the main tent, you curled into a ball in the corner and fought with your gloves to turn on your phone, which barely worked due to the cold.

"What the fuck are you trying to do with that?" Sapnap groaned as he fell to the ground in front of you, spying at the device in your hands as if he were some sort of prehistoric man and this was his first contact with fire. "You're an actual imbecile if you think there's going to be even a sliver of reception here."

You stuck your tongue out to him and moved to kick his side with your snow boots, snickering in victory as he finally moved away from you, leaving an empty spot at your side as Jimmy started to take out the strange contraptions that were required to make food in such extreme weather, but you were too tired to listen in to his explanation.

"Made you something." You visibly cringed at the sound of Dream's groggy voice before he came into view, ski mask and goggles abandoned so you could see clearly how red and runny his nose was, gloves off so he could hand you the warm packet of food he claimed to have made.

"Didn't know you were a Rudolph cosplayer.", You commented on his appearance with a sly smile, almost dropping the food as you felt him curl into your side, head falling onto your shoulder with a shaky moan of pain, clearly not amused by your attempt at a joke. "You okay?"

"No. Not okay." He whined, his warm breath hitting your neck from where his head was situated and causing goosebumps to form, your body still not used to this much proximity with him. "I feel like shit. Like… worse than shit."

You'd normally roll your eyes at such a statement, but you knew now that he was telling the truth, you'd seen the blood he coughed up the day before during your stay in Chile, and you knew that a cold could quickly turn into something way worse given the time.

You were ready to offer him help with whatever he needed, but you were cut off before you could even begin as you saw his mouth open wide from the corner of your eye.

"Wh-"

"Feed me." He attempted to say without closing his mouth, soft eyes looking up at you through his long eyelashes with a pleasing look. "C'mon. Hungry."

You tried to ignore the head creeping up your neck as you reached into the bag with the plastic spoon to scoop up some of the now lukewarm food out and into his mouth, watching as he closed his mouth around the spoon and gulped, moaning softly at the taste.

"Holy shit that might actually be the best thing I've ever tasted." He opened his mouth again, waiting for you to shovel a bit more food into his mouth.

"Oh, so what you said about my pesto was a lie?" You said, pouting in mock sadness as you repeated your action, shoving the spoon into his mouth a bit too hard and making him choke, but before you could apologise, he shook his head, answering your previous accusation.

"Okay, second best. Your cooking skills put this delicious cold goop to shame." He joked between a few chews, nudging you slightly with his shoulder. "You know that."

"Ah, so you're comparing my food to this?" You raised the bag in question and shook it a bit to further your point, trying your best to not burst out laughing at how panicked he looked as he tried to explain himself; a frown etching onto his face as you finally broke and let out a soft giggle.

"You're making fun of me." He finally seemed to realise as you nodded in response, about to shove some snow in your face if it weren't for the spoon that was shoved into his mouth and the puppy eyes you shot in his direction.

"Truce?"

The gulp he made was enough of a response for you.

Once the spoon you had used for Dream was well disposed of (you didn't want to risk getting ill yourself), you started eating some of the food yourself, Dream's head still snugly resting on your shoulder as he watched your every movement, making small talk every now and then and joining in on the conversations the others were having.

"Okay, it's like… almost midnight." Jimmy commented as he stared down at his watch, everyone staring back at him with the same bewildered expression, since the sun was still shining down onto your small camp. "We gotta get to bed."

"But it's still sunny outside!" Karl whined, pulling back the entrance slap to stare outside for a split moment, everyone immediately shouting at him for letting the cold in.

"And it's going to stay like that! Did the American school system fail you this badly!? Haven't you lot learnt about Antarctica? The sun is always up here!" George exclaimed in frustration, already zipping up his jacket, urging everyone else to abandon their food and do the same.

"Exactly! So let's get into our tents and try to get some rest, okay?" Jimmy encouraged, trying his best to keep everyone's morale up, picking up his sleeping bag and waiting for everyone to be ready before opening the tent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You heard Sapnap curse as he followed his group into the tent with their sleeping bags, your own pressed to your chest for extra warmth until you reached the tent you'd be staying in, quickly making yourself at home on the right side.

"Dibs!" You didn't even try to hide the amusement in your voice as you slammed your bag and belongings onto the plastic ground, immediately starting to zip down the giant coat you'd been wearing.

"Yeah, yeah." Jimmy rolled his eyes with a smile as he and Nolan claimed the left side, leaving Dream standing at the entrance in confusion, staring at the empty spot beside your sleeping bag as if it was an abomination of nature.

His brain hadn't seemed to comprehend that he'd be sleeping next to you when you confessed you'd feel safer sleeping in the same tent as him, he had simply assumed you'd be sleeping next to Nolan or Jimmy, not him.

"You okay, dude? You're letting in all the cold." Your voice snapped him out of the daze he had been in, rapidly nodding instead of answering since he really didn't trust his voice to work right then.

Once the tent was zipped up tight, he awkwardly shuffled towards you, watching intently as you pushed your jackets off, which left you in the tight shirt all of you wore beneath the heaps of coats.

His hands shook as he undid his sleeping bag, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or because of how close to you he was going to be in a few minutes.

And he didn't know why this was affecting him so much, he'd been cuddled up into your side less than an hour ago, and he wouldn't be able to count the times you'd crawled into his bed back home after a nightmare or if you were being too lazy to make the few steps that it took from his room to yours. He'd had you in his arms, hell, he'd felt the warm skin of your waist beneath his open palms that one time he helped you decorate the Christmas tree, so why was this different?

Maybe he was deluded.

That's probably right, his cold had gotten so bad that it was affecting his senses, which meant he was now super fucking awkward around you and wanted nothing more than to hide his face in the crook of your neck and feel once again your warm skin bene-

What?

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

He froze in his tracks as he stopped his train of thought from going any further, his face heating up as he reviewed the thoughts about you that seemed to have infiltrated his mind.

Well…. it wasn't like he hadn't ever thought about you like that, it was sort of inevitable. You were one of his closest friends, (maybe his closest, but don't tell George that.) and yeah, maybe once in a while he had thought about kissing you, about threading his fingers through your hair and tracing every feature on your pretty face while you laid in his arms.

And… and maybe he had told himself that all those times you had come to him at night for comfort or had stayed in his arms while watching a movie, were nothing but platonic, that you would probably do the same with Sapnap or George (despite the absolute fucking jealousy he felt brewing inside of him at the thought of you lying in their arms instead of his.) and the moments you spent talking about everything and anything at the same time weren't reminiscent to all of his past relationships, because this wasn't a relationship! He was your best friend! Not some creep that was in love with the girl who trusted him the most! Nope! No way.

He nodded to himself in confirmation as he finally finished setting up his sleeping bag, flopping down onto it with an angered huff, ignoring the amused look you sent in his direction.

"You're going to sleep like that?" You questioned, poking his side teasingly, causing him to yelp and move away from your touch as if it was poison as quickly as he could, snapping his head down to look at his outfit.

His cheeks went even redder (if humanly possible) as he realised he had been this close to falling asleep in full Antarctica tactical gear, quickly shoving all of his layers off so he was in the tight shirt your two other tent-mates were also wearing.

"You're so stupid." You snorted at him with a fond smile, turning around on top of your makeshift bed to pick up your phone and some earphones you'd been smart enough to bring. "Downloaded some anime Karl recommended, you want to watch an episode before we sleep?" You offered, making sure your voice was low enough that it didn't disturb Jimmy or Nolan, who were busy talking to the cameraman; lifting an earbud in one hand and waving it around enticingly.

"Y-Yeah, why not?" He smiled back at you, awkwardly shuffling towards you and keeping his distance because he was your friend who respected your boundaries and definitely did not like you.

He sputtered out a whine as you rolled your eyes and pulled his sleeping bag flush against yours, forcing him to sit right next to you, arm to arm, leg to leg and foot to foot. He raised a shaking hand to pop in the earbud you handed to him and tried his best to focus on the screen and not on how fucking warm your skin felt against his, how cute you sounded when you let out a short snort or a low giggle, how pretty you looked from the side with the glow of your phone reflecting your features.

Fuck.

You, for one, were actually enjoying the show at hand (despite only having one earbud, but that didn't matter.), and not focusing on how close Dream was to you, something you were learning to do after all the times you'd spent curled into his side at his bed back home.

You hadn't really thought about how the sleeping arrangements would work back on the plane, you were more concerned about the plastic device Jimmy had shoved into your hand and tried his best to explain how it was supposed to help you use the restroom.

But now that you were given the time to breathe, you finally realised how close you'd be to him, the thought enough to make you want to shove your face into a pillow and scream into it like a schoolgirl, just like every time you ended up in his arms.

Before the episode could finish, the cameraman left after filming a bit of Jimmy and Nolan, the latter escorting him out and turning back around, his gaze flicking down to your sleeping bag.

"Ah, shit, your bag's ripped."

"What?" You let your phone fall onto your lap and leaned over your legs to grab at the end of what would've been your bed if it weren't for the giant gash that had split the bottom in half, exposing your socks to the outside. "Fuck! Jimmy!"

The man in question popped his head up from where he was lying down, surveying the damage before biting the inside of his cheek in thought, scratching his chin.

"Uh… I don't think we've got any spares. Are… Are you okay with sharing or something? I mean, you know Karl, he'll probably be up all night so you can probably take his or share…?"

Dream didn't want to admit how horrible the thought of you leaving his tent to share with Karl was and how disgusting he felt as the jealousy grew in a pit of his stomach as he kept on thinking about it.

"Uh-" You looked down at the threads hanging out of the tear, shrugging your shoulders as you silently agreed. "I mean… as long as Karl's okay with it…? I don't mind."

"Great! Here, let me hel-"

"You can just share with me."

Dream's groggy voice cut off Jimmy's enthusiastic one, causing all of the tent to snap their head into his direction, as if you had forgotten he was there.

"That's fine, right?"

"Yeah!" You cried out a bit too eager, quickly coughing and changing your tone of voice to a more mellow one. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Oookay! That's actually better. A lot of people huddle close for heat here so let's see if you help Dream with that cold of his, eh?" Jimmy nodded, slipping his sleep mask back down his face and lying down, leaving you and Dream wide awake and staring at each other, Nolan having slipped into his bag during your awkward conversation.

"Here." Dream got up and tried his best to pull the sleeping bag open to make more space, waiting patiently for you to unzip your snow boots and put on some fuzzy socks you'd manage to snag in Chile before taking the plane.

"Thanks," You mumbled quietly, awkwardly moving to a side of the bag so Dream would be able to fit in next to you. "For holding it open. And uhm, for offering. I really didn't want to leave the tent, plus, with Karl, Sapnap and George I doubt I'd get any sleep."

Dream snorted in affirmation, aware of how dangerous they were when put together, and he couldn't even imagine how powerful they'd be when contained in such a small space. It was his turn to throw off his boots (not even bothering to unzip them first), and quickly shove himself into the bag next to you in hopes of keeping the warmth his feet had previously been in.

After a bit of shifting and moving limbs, you finally got into a comfortable position, your body draped over his side to preserve warmth with an arm wrapped around you waist with the other tracing random shapes into the arm that was sprawled across his chest, something he subconsciously did every time you were in his arms in such a position.

"This is nice." He mumbled, half joking, half serious.

"Mhm." You hummed, not trusting yourself enough to form proper sentences, carefully resting your head onto his shoulder and tickling his cheek with your hair.

A few moments passed in the same position, Dream's warm hand rubbing circles onto your waist in an attempt to soothe your nerves, knowing how stressed you probably felt without having to ask. You almost melted in his touch as he moved his head to rub his nose into your hair, closing his eyes with a sigh.

"It's impossible to sleep." He finally broke the silence with the muttered sentence, making you giggle and hide your face further into his shoulder.

"Don't you have an eye mask?" You mumbled from your spot, voice muffled by his shirt, feeling him shift beneath you until his hands left you to pull what you assumed was the eye mask down to his face.

"Forgot about it." He grumbled, warm hands finding their spot back onto your body and continuing their ministrations on your skin, lulling you quickly to sleep, feeling as if your head had been stuffed with cotton, tired enough to ignore everything around you, especially the quiet confession that came from Dream's lips and the soft kiss that was pressed to your forehead, leaving it to be a secret of the night.

You were woken up rather abruptly, the tent opening and Karl's high pitched laugh coming in along with the cold air, making everyone in the tent groan in discomfort and move beneath the covers to preserve the warmth, including you two, who during the night seemed to have moved into a different position, your face pressed right into Dream's chest with his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands cupping the pudge of your thighs as they wrapped around his waist, thumb rubbing in circles like he had done last night with your waist, quickly soothing you back to sleep.

"I'm going to kill you, Karl!" Nolan shouted from his bag as the boy rolled into the tent, Sapnap following close behind with a disposable camera, not trusting his phone enough in such a weather.

"You got it?"

"Yep."

Sapnap made sure the flash was off, not wanting either of you to fully wake up and ruin the moment, before snapping a few pictures of Dream and you cuddled beneath the top layer of his sleeping bag, keeping their giggles and snickers to a low before leaving the tent with a nice reminder of what had happened beneath you.

"Told you it was smart to bring a knife." Sapnap pointed to your discarded sleeping bag with a grin before fully exiting the tent, not without letting in a gust of cold wind.

That seemed to finally snap you out of your sleep, groaning softly as you wriggled in Dream's arms, stopping in your tracks as he let out an incoherent grumble and brought you closer into his arms, as if you were a simple teddy bear and not his best friend who had totally overstepped a line by actually fucking wrapping her legs around his waist as if he were your boyfriend!

"Clay." You whispered as you faced him, moving a hand to push a few of his curls out of the way of his closed eyes and observe the freckles splattered across his skin like stars in the night sky, your finger tracing the short invisible lines between all of them. "Wake up…"

"Hmng…" His hold on you tightened for a moment before returning back to normal, his way of pleading for you to give up and slip back into his arms.

"Claaayy~" you said a bit louder, pressing your finger into the tip of his nose in hopes of getting him to wake faster. "Come on, we've still got a whole day left."

"Do you think I'm actually well enough to do something?" He finally spoke, and you almost jumped at how much worse his voice sounded than last night, but that was a given due to the cold and the mix between his already muzzy voice and the deep tone his morning voice normally took. "Just stay here with me for a while…"

"But I'm well enough to do something, Clay." You mumbled, letting your arm fall by your side and attempting once again to escape his grip, smiling softly as he didn't fight this time and let you slip out easily.

You didn't make any further effort to wake him up again, giving him the luxury of sleeping in a bit longer and getting yourself ready to leave the tent, despite how warm his hold had been and how you truly wanted nothing more than to slip right into his hold and wrap your arms around him.

But you fought the urge to, exiting the warmth of your tent and rushing towards where Karl and George were building a snowman (although it wasn't much of a snowman due to Karl slipping and falling onto it every few minutes.), and offering to assist them.

Ignoring the cold and the fact you didn't have anything to decorate the so-called snowmen with, you actually had fun with them, having said goodbye to Nolan and Jimmy before they left to "claim a mountain" a few hours ago; and you were now left with four snowmen without features, so they really couldn't be called snowmen at all.

"I think it looks pretty good!" Karl hummed as he finished rolling one of the bigger parts of his snowman.

"It's just three balls of snow on top of each other, Karl." George deadpanned as he moved his goggles to see the abominations you three had made.

"I think it looks a bit like you." You stuck your tongue out at George, who returned the gesture before the both of you realised how cold it was to be doing it and quickly returned your tongues back into your mouths.

After making some food and welcoming Jimmy and Nolan back, you spent some time with Dream outside (despite how much your body was screaming at you to get somewhere warm.), and threw a few snowballs at each other, last night's events never discussed or mentioned during your conversations.

You finally realised how much time you had spent outside when Chandler announced the plane would be here in almost two hours, the fact you'd spent almost a day in the freezing snow enough to frighten you into getting frostbite.

"If my fingers fall off I want you to have them, Dream." You confessed to him as you both worked on taking down your tent, giddiness filling you at the loud laugh he let out, nodding his head with a smile beneath his ski mask.

"Yes ma'am, I'll make sure to cherish them until I die." He teased back, shoving whatever remained of the tent into a bag and wrapping some of the rope around it, letting you admire for a moment how strong he truly was before Sapnap called you over to help him with the rubbish.

You didn't have much time to talk as Jimmy hurried you all back to where you had started, where the plane was waiting in all its glory, and holy shit you couldn't wait to be back inside.

You almost tripped on the stairs from how desperate you were to get inside if it weren't for Dream's hands holding you up from behind, knowing how excited you were to get back into the warm safety of the aircraft.

You collapsed into one of the window seats with a loud dramatic exhale, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth of the leather chairs and the exaggerated smell of the air freshener that was wafting along the main cabin.

"Fucking finally, right?" Dream laughed after shoving both your luggage into the upper compartments, knowing you'd probably be too exhausted to do it yourself after barely catching any sleep in the last 24 hours, and falling into the empty seat next to you.

"I never thought I'd say this, but…" you turned to look at him dramatically, his heart beating rapidly at your serious expression and words until you spoke. "I actually miss Florida."

He breathed out a sigh of relief along with a laugh, nodding his head in agreement as he moved his hand to wrap around yours, heart fluttering as you didn't even stop him from doing so.

"I can't wait to wear some shorts and a tank top and still be hot." You mumbled with a smile, turning your head to a side to make eye contact with him. "Although it'll probably be a bit too cold for that."

"Yeah, you never know with Floridan winters." He snorted, interlacing your fingers with his and moving to look out the window. "As long as I'm out of this coat, I'll be fine."

It was your turn to laugh, nodding your head in affirmation, and shifting on the seat to rest your head on his shoulder, much like he had done when you had first entered the tent.

Silence filled your little corner of the plane until he finally spoke, turning to you completely and making you lose the balance you previously had.

"You uh… did you hear what I said? Last… uh, last last night?"

You cocked your head to a side like a confused puppy would, shaking your head, a no.

"Uh… well… Shit I'm really going to regret this." He breathed out as a laugh, raising his free hand to pull off his ski mask and ruffle up his curls. "I… I kind of, well… kissed your forehead. And said I- I love you."

Your brain short circuited at his words, blankly staring into his eyes as if your body had stopped just so your mind could make any sense of what he was saying.

"In a non-platonic way."

"In a non-platonic way." You parroted, blinking like a fool as you watched him panic underneath your gaze.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Silence once again filled your little corner, both of your hands still intertwined and both your gazes locked together, Dream's whole body ready to give out if you didn't give him an answer soon.

"Please say somet-"

"I love you too." Your confession cut him off, his mouth hanging open with unsaid words ready to come out, looking something akin to a fish out of water gasping for air.

"O-Oh!" He breathed out, his body finally catching up to his brain as he nodded at your confession, cheeks pink from both embarrassment and illness. "Holy shit."

"Holy shit." You echoed once again, although this time you ended it with a small breathless giggle, raising your free hand to cup his cheek, stubble pricking your palm and cold skin meeting warm.

"I really want to kiss you right now." He confessed, half closed eyes searching for your gaze as his hand came up to cover yours over his cheek. "But I don't want to get you sick."

You smiled at his pout, shrugging your shoulders as you nodded down towards your fingers. "There's no way I'm not getting sick after that, Clay. It's fine. I want to kiss you too."

He nodded faster than the speed of light as you started to pull him down, pressing your lips to his for a moment that felt like eternity, and oh god, it was better than you imagined. It felt as if fireworks were going off in your head, sending shivers down your spine and lighting every nerve within you on fire, his breath against your lips as he pulled back from them almost burning your skin from how much you wanted to press them back onto his.

"Holy shit."

And by the sounds of it, you hadn't been the only one affected ridiculously by the kiss.

"Can we do that more often?" Dream basically vibrated in his seat at the prospect of being able to repeat that experience, his smile only growing when you nodded your head, a matching one pulling at your lips.

"Yes. Yes please."

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binkszamsstuff · 1 year

Text

Girl of my dreams

Arranged marriage au/ Mob au

Angst, cheating,smut, fluff, breeding kink, pregnancy, others but I'm tired and lazy also not edited/ proof read💀😬 18+,

Many times she thought of leaving, many ways to never look back. But the walls forbid it and so did her husband. Being married to a Mafia man was hard but there were harder things in life then to watch him cheat. An arranged marriage was what her parents thought would bloom into love only for heartbreak.

They never really loved, but they did fight constantly. He said she took away his freedom to fuck, she said he took away her freedom to love. Both were right, both were wrong. Until one night changed the two -almost as if sight had smacked them on their heads.

She walked into his office a red haired woman sat on his lap, she was dressed in fine clothes obviously a payment from him for her late night work. He had his reading glasses perched on his nose reading something on his computer, his left hand rubbing the woman's hip.

They didn't move an inch when y/n walked in, they didn't care who saw them together everyone knew they didn't want to be married, so what's the harm knowing he was in love with another woman.

"I'm leaving tonight, I have a gala. I'm taking Steve and the Mercedes goodbye" his wife said then walked out dismissively.

James had one job and that was to provide y/n with protection and to keep her married to him. James' father and hers only made this marriage for beneficial things, like money.

So y/n was required to take a bodyguard everywhere she went. James had just looked up from his computer to get the last glimpse of his wife in her tight fitting classy dress. Her hair blown out with volume and bounce, the dress she wore shaped her bottom perfectly. His eyes followed her out, his lips slightly parting,

"yes alright" was all he said.

The woman who sat on his lap was growing impatient. "Thank God she's gone! When will you finally get rid of her?" The woman asked.

"Never. You know this" he spoke illy towards her.

The woman scoffed. "But you love me, so why can't this be done? It's been three years and I'm tired of being the side piece. The villain, well people pity her. I'm the one who doesn't get the life she wants! I'm the one living, having to watch you be married to someone else."

"Natasha stop! I don't love her, I don't kiss her, or fuck her. I barely speak to the woman and when I do all we do is argue so please don't pull that on me." James was now rubbing his fingers on his forehead trying to relax the headache.

When the night was over, y/n and Steve came home giggling at the mischief they caused. James sat on the couch, his dark eyebrows drawn in a grim frown on his face.

"What are you two laughing about?" James spoke.

"n-nothing just something funny that happened at the gala" Steve brushed off.

"Was it y/n, that funny?" James spoke once again, his tone sounding hard, aggressive.

"yes it was"

"goodnight y/n, it was lovely spending time with you" Steve said kissing her check.

She blushed saying a shy "thank you Stevie"

Steve left leaving her and her husband alone.

"I'm going to bed, sweet dreams James" she spoke softly to him. She might not be his love but once at the beginning of their marriage she did love him. She tried to make it work but one day she had walked in the house after shopping for their one year anniversary only to be met with James and Natasha naked in front of the fire place having a romantic time.

Tears streamed down her face and all James did when he saw her was smirk. He hated her then, truly couldn't stand to be near her, that was two years ago now he almost wishes she was around more often. Now she was cold distant towards him, she only seemed to be the giddy, sweet, caring, and lovable girl she once was with Steve. She used to be that way with him.

That night James stayed up, sitting in his California king bed. Alone. The cold air seeped into the room from the open windows. He sat leaned up against the headboard, his journal in hand. Before James was forced into the mob by his father he dreamed of writing. As a young man, he would write stories of love, he was a hopeless romantic. He dreamt; of becoming a writer, finding the love of his life. But at the age of 21 his dreams were shot down.

Ever since he married his y/n, James' writings were surrounded by her. The love stories, no longer about the red haired woman -natasha. Every fantasy about what his life could have been was still filled with his wife.

Tonight he seemed to only be able to write her name. Endlessly.

Y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, Y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n -the woman who holds the embers of my heart. My wife.

The following week james watched y/n and Steve dance around the kitchen with old songs. How he purposely left his study door open so he could hear her; sing, talk to herself, laugh. It always brought a smile on his face. Things were changing in him.

James was not the only one to notice, Natasha did too. Whenever she came over James would hardly touch her, speak to her. Always bored 'wow's' 'oh's' and 'okay'.

To say she was mad was an under statement.

Natasha walked into the house with her keys in hand. Y/n was in her comfy home clothes doodling in her notebook, she sat perched in the kitchen window seat. Natasha rolled her eyes walking furiously towards James' study.

Natasha said with anger "What the hell is wrong with you?"

James did nothing, not even looking up from his computer.

"Natasha, please I'm working." He huffed out a sigh. Natasha was really making him lose his creative wind.

"No! You have barely talked to me! Touched me! What the hell is going on?" She demanded.

James stood up in a swift motion. His blue eyes now are hard and cold. Unforgiving.

"That's it! I can not do this nat! I loved you for a very long time natasha...but now I don't." Natasha gasped taking a step back.

"Nat I'm so sorry but we aren't good for each other anymore. You want to marry, I don't. You don't want children, I do. We fight more than we do anything else. I don't want to remember you like this so I'm asking you to leave. Please give me your key to my wife's and i's home." James now had a solemn expression on his face.

"This is about her uh? You told me you would never love her! It was supposed to be me!"

"Natasha I hope you find someone who will love forever, and I...was wrong..I think I've loved her since the first time I saw her." Natasha through her key at him and ran out of the house.

James was so stupid, If he could have realized that he did love y/n since he first saw her walking down the aisle. and to not let the betrayal for his father blind him so much he could hurt the woman he's loved since first sight. She was the woman he dreamed of all his life. Is it too late for him to wake up and fix his mess?

Y/n sat at the breakfast table alone watching out the window, her peaceful morning was dull until the chair in front of her scaped against the floor. Then groaning as James sat in it. A confused look came a upon her face he never sat with her at breakfast, she didn't even see him in the mornings.

"What are you doing?" She asked him quietly almost as if she was whispering to keep a secret.

"I'm having breakfast at my table, can I not do that?" He sassed back at her.

"y-yes you can, but I'm here." This time she spoke a little louder.

"so? Your my wife"

Y/n almost laughed outwards at him. "So? You hate me!" She chuckled while shaking her head.

"I don't hate you, y/n" she almost froze she had never really heard him say her name, he almost always referred her as 'she', 'her' and occasionally 'bitch'. The two are in silence, but not awkward, comfort. The pair really didn't know what to do with themselves, do they make small talk? No their married no married couple uses small talk, well they weren't in love, do they talk business? No y/n didn't work in the Mafia, do they argue? No nether wanted to end the softness. No they sat in slience. Until James remembered why he came to sit with her.

"your birthday is coming up, in what a week?" James said flatly.

"You know my birthday?" She said again in disbelief for the second time that morning.

James rolled his eyes "yes, of Crouse I do, what do you want?"

"Um ahh, you don't have to get me anything you haven't any of the other years it's alright" she said, she didn't mean to make him feel guilty but the way she said it's so nonchalantly, so casual. She was used to being nothing in his life.

"I want to give you something" he said still acting like this wasn't the most kindest he's ever been to her through out the three years of marriage.

"we'll make-up, or shoes," she said shyly.

"Your turning 21, what no booze?" He said amused.

"No I don't drink, even when I turn of age." He didn't know the reason why, and that bothered her.

"A-alright then shoes and make-up" he got up putting his plate away, James awkwardly straighted his suit jacket.

"goodbye y/n"

"goodbye James"

The next couple of days y/n and James would eat breakfast together, just sitting in comfortable silence.

The two would peak glances at each other.

The week past was a fun blur, between hanging out with friends, family, planning the party, y/n didn't have time to notice that Natasha was coming over less and less. She used to come over everyday, key and everything acting as if y/n's home was hers.

But now for the last month y/n was seeing none of her.

Y/n walked down the stairs her dress flowing down, fit for her like a glove. Everyone gasped, 'ohhed', and ahhhed' at her. James in particular was breathless, he hadn't ever felt this way towards her or any other woman.

Y/n said her hellos to her guests, family, friends, she made her way to the bar asking for a soda when a calloused hand splayed itself on her lower back.

"Y/n will you come with me?" James spoke lowly in her ear. She turned around shocked at how he was holding her so close.

"Why?' she asked flustered.

"because I need to speak to my wife" he said with a smug smirk.

He lead her to one of the bathroom on the main floor of their house. Once inside he closed the door behind him locking it.

"Why are we in here?" She asked curiously.

James said nothing only stepping towards her in one stride, his left hand snaking it's way around her waist the other holding the back of her neck/lower head. Her body pressed against his.

"I want you, i-im sorry I didn't treat you right when I got the first chance." James whispered to her, his lips hovering over hers. She wanted to beg him to kiss her, to take her, make their marriage more then an inconvenient. To finally reciprocate her love, for him to choose her.

"I want you to, but I'm not that easy. James Barnes we've been married for almost four years, I was 18 when we married and I wanted you so bad, I loved you more then anything but you chose her! You need to make it up, you've wasted a lot of time"

"I will, I promise but I can't keep watching you like you mean nothing. One kiss and I won't ask again until your ready please babydoll"

She smashed her lips Into his, she didn't do it for him begging (well a little bit) she did it for herself one taste then he had to prove himself. The kiss was soft, pleasing, longing, underlying love no longer hidden beneath the anger.

"I'll make it to you, doll and I will never hurt you again"

one year later....

"Oh good girl baby. Yeah you like when I fill you up?" James said as he pounded into her cunt. The two wrapped up in their soft bed sheets, y/n's legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands holding onto his upper arm.

"Yes daddy, I do! Please I want your cum!' she begged through the tears of pleasure.

"I'm gonna put a baby in you, fuck your gonna be the hotest mommy baby" his thrusts getting more sloppy as he neares him climax.

"I'm gonna cum James! Please I want your babies!" Y/n pleaded, James started to place kisses on her neck and shoulder.

"Oh yeah, cum all over daddies cock babydoll. Fuck I love you!' he growled into her shoulder as his white warm cum shot into her wet tight pussy.

'i love you too Jamie" y/n said dozing off, now James held her in his arms. He stared at her, how soft and delicate she looked. He loves her, her little giggles, the way she cuddles into him, how she cries and tries to beg him to let her adopt animal when the arms of the angel commercial comes on and now that she's pregnant she always ends up In tears.

James Buchanan Barnes loves y/n Barnes and nothing will change that. And their soon to be born daughter.

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshots #natasha marvel #mob au #mob!bucky #mafia bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #james barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #beefy bucky #bucky x you smut #marvel au

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mrzombielover · 1 year

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Hi! Idk if you take requests or even like, emergency requests but, it's obviously Christmas time and I'm feeling really down bc I'm spending it alone. I was wondering if you could write something with Ghost and König's friend calling them and asking them if they could spend the holiday together? Up to you if you wanna make it friends to lovers kinda thing but honestly anything fluff and sweet is more than enough. Thank you so much, and Merry Christmas!

hii i normally don’t take emergency requests (cause i’m not good at themsbahhd) but this prompt is cute. hope headcanon format is okay, that’s the fastest way i could get this out

sorry if this sucks, i wrote it really quickly and didn’t edit it lol

hope your christmas gets better anon :,(

most people are thrilled to get time off for christmas. it’s heartwarming to see dads reunite with their kids during the season, when the majority of people get time off. ordinarily, around this time of year, you’d drown yourself in work and missions to try and take your mind off it, but captain price insisted you guys get this time off to go home and relax. honestly though, you were dreading going back home. it just depresses you.

at the airport, boarding was about to begin, and you found yourself fighting tears. everyone around you seemed to be waiting anxiously, wanting nothing more than to get to your destination. as the minutes went on, you were filled with more and more dread.

at the very last minute, just as they were about to call your group, you found yourself running away from the gate, phone in hand, thinking of anyone to call so last minute.

- simon “ghost” riley

ghost was similar to you in that he also dislikes the holiday season. he’s got no one to celebrate with and nothing but bad memories of it.

when he picked up your call, he told you he hadn’t left the base, and didn’t really plan to soon.

at first he was apprehensive, but he quickly found that he really likes having you on base with him. there were some christmas decorations, but the base was almost entirely empty.

for the first time, ghost was enjoying his holiday break, and quickly got used to your presence.

you guys binge movies in the rec room to pass the time, make a ton of food from whatever’s left in the kitchen, and once you’ve exhausted everything else, you even get a little work and cleaning done.

it’s been a really nice distraction having eachother around. you don’t need to explain anything to eachother, simon will silently accept and comfort you.

the cold pushes you guys together, you’ll cheekily ask to stay in his room to “warm up”, and spoon all night. cuddling while watching movies and forcing him to try your hot cocoa.

some days pass, and even though you didn’t really talk about christmas with him, he got you a gift anyway. it would be something small but sentimental, probably from a mission you were both on or the country where you met. a souvenir or piece of jewelry, or something useful, like a watch. he thinks he isn’t great at giving gifts, but it’s the thought he puts into them that makes it special.

just a few days until you’ve got to go back to work, and you’ve enjoyed an actual relaxing winter holiday. before you go, he’ll catch up to say goodbye, before realizing you’re under the mistletoe. he’ll plant a gentle, almost cautious kiss to your soft lips, letting his hands cup your face, as if begging you not to go. the two of you agree to do this every year.

- könig

(his family life is p much all my headcanon btw)

whenever he has the chance, könig goes back to austria over breaks. he becomes incredibly homesick, especially around the holidays, and when you called, he was ecstatic to show you his beautiful home and share traditions with you.

it made him so happy when you asked to spend time with him, and he was so glad you felt comfortable enough to open up to him about how hard the holidays are for you. he silently vowed to change that for you.

he immediately showed you all his favorite local restaurants and cafes, food he’d been craving so bad during the months he was deployed. you guys did typical touristy stuff along with local traditions and experiences.

he insisted you have dinner at his parents house for christmas, and helped you pick out last minute gifts. horrible at wrapping presents though, that was all you.

his parents are so nice, especially his mom, even though she teased könig about finally bringing a partner home. you made biscuits with her, but she wouldn’t let you help clean, insisting that you were a guest.

after you thank him for making this your best christmas, he’ll tell you how great it was to have you here, and comment on how you should make it a tradition. with christmas lights in the background and snow flurrying around you, you’ll finally make it official.

#guys please read my rules lol #!asks #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #tuck how do i tag this #könig x reader #konig x reader #call of duty #cod x reader #könig #simon riley #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #!my stuff #my little meow meow

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basiliskonline · 9 months

Text

I just finished a Court of Fey and Flowers by @dimension20official, it was absolutely amazing, hands down the best AP I have ever seen, or imagine I might see.

You can find it here.

As someone that is strongly anti-D&D 5E and Anti Wizards of the Coast, it took me a long time to give dimension 20 a chance, and I will strongly suggest that anyone in that same position give it a shot.

I am gonna talk about it below the cut here, cause this will likely be long, this will be things I both liked and didn't like.

So i'm gonna talk abit about my feelings and experience with games and APs, because we're all different, we all like different things in a TV Show and by extension those variable preferences would also expand to APs. So I want to give you a little bit of information about where I stand as I explain my thoughts. Sorry if this gets very SEO Recipe lmao.

If you don't care about all that, skip to the next bold line, however if you are gonna comment or argue or whatever, at least read the context first and then probably don't do that.

I've been gaming for 30+ years, I started very early, and i've played definately dozens, probably hundreds of different games. D&D doesnt even rank in that list, I didn't like it much as a kid, when i grew up and it was 3/3,5 I hated both it and pathfinder with a passion. I played 5E for a bit but its lackluster and very poor design led to a game of boring mechanical options and choices that quickly grew old. And if I was gonna play a narrative game, i wouldn't be playing D&D in the first place. 4E is the only edition of D&D I've actively enjoyed.

I was an immense Critter during Campaign 1 and partway through Campaign 2. Like... "my wife and I have Critical Role quotes engraved on our wedding bands" critters.

But I quickly fell away from both Critters and Critical Role, by and large Critters is the worst fandom ive been apart of (and I was a SuperWhoLock back in the day) and the CR cast talks a lot of nice ideals and backs them up with absolutely nothing but lip service. I am now, tbh, somewhat uncomfortable when I see any of them on my timeline.

Dimension 20 is the first AP my wife and I have tried to watch since CR (we find most APs to be unwatchtable in most situations, just our own preference), My wife was curious about seeing Brendan as a DM after watching him on Game Changer, so we watched Mice and Murder (it was fun, and good, but has NOTHING on aCoFaF), and then on a suggestion moved to watch aCoFaF).

Last piece of the puzzle, WotC is a fucking nightmare company that has harbored some of the worst pieces of trash imaginable (though tbf that is not unique to them, its a major "large/old ttrpg company issue". And I quite frankly would love to never have to hear or see about anything wotc ever does ever again, preferably because they burned down and everything they ever made goes with them (this sadly means I would lose 4E but sacrifices must be made).

Things I like about a Court of Fey and Flowers

The first thing I love about it, is its a very role play heavy AP, and it centers on matters of Political fey intrigue, and that is done so masterfully by every single player and by the GM. (I absolutely avoided D20 because of the DnD/WOTC connection, but I in retrospect absolutely understand the whole "Season of Aabria" that was going around now).

The characters were thrilling, dramatic, sneaky, nuanced and hilarious, and the storyline was gorgeous and beautifully made, allowing the players to make their own messes and their own relationships and romances. So much romances.

I absolutely loved that I didn't have to see dnd 5e be played most of the time. This is something, and one of the only somethings, you'll see me talk about in the "don't like" section, so it is strangely enough both. The system was changed and mostly ignored that I almost never had to see dnd played, the AP is so heavily social and rp and during the state of the AP only had two very very short combats that were more priority on the social implications of the combats than the combat itself. Overall it could have used any system and done what they did, but mostly I didn't have to see 5E played and that made it pretty solid, despite "being 5E".

I also love Brennan Lee Mulligan's Captain KP Hob, a very good bab and the first and only Bugbear PC ive seen in an AP (and I love me some Bugbear)

Thing's I didn't like about a Court of Fey and Flowers

This is gonna stay light, because really there wasn't much. The only thing really is that the system, while ostensibly "5E" the system was so lightly applied, used or stuck to that the game could have used almost literally any other system to better affect and I absolutely hate that they still gave 5E and WOTC some sort of props/bandwidth by barely using the system but still selling it as DnD.

#Dimension 20 #a court of fey and flowers #dnd hate tag #actual play #mine #ttrpg

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 6 months

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Breaking down the comics: Doing good (Issue 34)

Moon Knight, Issue # 34: Primal Scream

Written by Tony Isabella and drawn by Bo Hampton.

And Bonus short: The Vault of Knight

Written by Tony Isabella and drawn by Richard Howell.

Let's stop for a second. Take a little comic history lesson tour.

This is not written by the usual Moon Knight team.

Let's get into a little Moench history here and why he left.

He did not really get along well with the then Marvel Chief editor James Shooter. Understandable. Here’s why:

James Shooter got his start writing for DC then moved to Marvel. During the 70s and 80s, Marvel was experiencing a huge boom in content and new titles (like Moon Knight!)

Further more, Stan Lee stepped away from monitoring comics to heading the animation works in LA right when Shooter became the cheif, leaving him fully in charge.

Many felt that Shooter ran the place like a dictator, but there had been a huge influx of missed deadlines and Shooter put a stop to that.

Despite keeping things running and overseeing a lot of new and important titles, he also alienated a LOT of long-time Marvel creators.

Many of the long-time creators, like Moench, left Marvel to join with DC, who had a new editor. (He got to write for Batman!)

NOTE: Shooter also enforced a policy forbidding the portrayal of Gay Characters in the Marvel Universe. In fact, the ONLY and first portrayal of a gay themed comic was of gay men attempting to rape Bruce Banner in the YMCA (which Shooter himself wrote), thus making Marvel to be widely considered Homophobic throughout Shooter's reign. (You should look into the history of LGBTQ+ in comics. It's a ride.)

I would like to point out that Moench's last issue during this time was about a reporter that was obsessed with making her deadlines and who wrote shitty pieces that were praised but awful and caused harm and eventual death in one character she wrote about. HMMMMM.

When did he leave? Sources say the end of 1982, but those that understand the publishing timeline will note comic publish dates don't match the date they reach the shelves.

So what is the official last Moon Knight Comic Moench worked on?

Let me put it this way... We aren't going to see Moench anymore for the 1980s run.

He DOES come back for a bit later on, but it's short lived for a couple of limited run editions.

(And this is all new knowledge for me, who thought he originally finished the 1980s run and now I'm looking at an earlier review I did out of order because I'm an idiot and realize I've made a grave mistake.... Oh joy.)

Farewell my sweet writer Doug Moench. Hats off to you.

Now! That out of the way, let’s take a look at the first step we truly take away from Mr. Moench.

For some reason, any time a guest writer sits in for early Moon Knight, they feel the need to over explain the character and introduce his past. Almost as if they were trying to explain who they are writing or getting a grasp on it for themselves.

This is also a special double large edition. Another cause for writers to try to over explain characters as Marvel expects a bigger issue to draw in new fans.

However, this is an odd story to push on the hopes of new fans.

Let’s get into it!

Yep. We open with a fast recap on who these characters are.

It leaves me wondering what happened when Moench left. Did he have a script written out? Did he have to give notice and they knew he was leaving and this writer was already on the backburner? Or was this done in a hurry to get a planned comic deadline out on time?

I would ALSO like to point out that when Bill left, he got a send off. Moench did not get a send off. He just disappears from the credits. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

"He was born Marc Spector and Spector wasn't a very nice man...Not so much evil as callous...A mercenary whose concern was reserved solely for himself and his Bankbook.

That man could never have come to this deserted industrial wasteland on a mission made of equal parts mercy and vengeance."

I disagree. Marc would be all over vengeance in a deserted wasteland.

"Steven Grant could have. You've read about Grant... The committed millionaire about town...A pretty defendable guy as the upper crust goes. Still...

Grant couldn't have found this place without Jake Lockley. Jake is the eyes and ears of Grant and Spector...A cabbie whose heart pulses to the beat of the city."

Putting a bit on Steven, but he'd want to do good. But a gritty back alley is not really his style.

"Ready for the kicker? Spector, Grant, and Lockley are all the same man...A man you know better as..."

(A side note... We see Moon Knight running through a warehouse complaining it smells like a sewer. HE WOULD KNOW. And then he's startled by a cat. This is hilarious to me for so many reasons.)

And that leads us to the title page where a young man is leaking off the crates above to tackle Moon Knight.

"Frank? Hate to do this to a hopped-up kid, but the quicker I put him down...the less chance of his getting hurt! Though when I think of what he did to Gena..."

He tosses Frank across the warehouse.

Moon Knight again alludes to the damage this kid did to Gena's diner after getting high on some new 'junk'.

Moon Knight is about to call in to Frenchie to get the medics out to take care of the hopped-up kid when the kid takes off.

He isn't worried. The fight has been knocked out of him and the police shouldn't have an issue.

Now we head back to the diner where we find Jake having a cuppa wihth Gena and Crawley.

Crawley is talking about "The Raiders" which is a young men's social club (read 'Gang'). They are known to be brutal and even the police are afraid of them.

Gena mentions about how she never raised her boys to run in gangs. Out back, we see Frank leading a group of gang members up to the back door of the diner.

The gang busts in and attacks the patrons, demanding food.

Jake isn't about to lay down and let it slide.

He clocks one of the kids and worries about his friends.

"Gotta get over to Crawley and Gena fast! They're not used to this kind of action!"

Jake's heart is made of gold.

One of the kids jumps Jake, growling and snarling.

"A for effort, punko, but I've seen a real werewolf up close--And all you've got in common with him are lousy table manners!" And Jake flips the man off.

Frank jumps on Genna while Jake is preoccupied. He cries out that he's hungry and he bites into her arm.

Her cries distract Jake and someone bashes him on the back of the head, knocking him out.

On waking up, Jake immediately asks how Gena is. He finds Gena loading up into an ambulance.

"His name is Frank... So much for my perfect record. Find him before the police do, Jake."

"I...Understand. I'll make sure the boy isn't harmed."

"You don't understand! I want that ungrateful little maggot harmed! I want him harmed so badly he won't ever be able to walk upright again! I treated that boy like family! He treated me like today's hot lunch special! Get him for me, Jake! Bring me his stinkin' head on a platter!"

Jake's pretty irked about Gena getting hurt, but...

"But that's not what Moon Knight stands for, is it? I'm the agent of vengeance, not vengeance itself."

That’s an interesting thought for Jake to have. Jake who so often slips out to let the others handle the Moon Knight mission. He trusts that they can handle things. But what is the difference between being an agent of vengeance and vengeance itself? Perhaps, looking to another comic is where we see that line and the difference between Moon Knight and the Punisher.

He sets out to find Frank and his gang. He hopes having Frank brought in will help Gena.

"Because I never want to look into the eyes of someone I care for and see so much hatred and despair there. I've seen it too many times before... Within myself."

So this issue I’m just going to be crying over Jake the whole time. Okay. Good to know.

Back at the diner, Gena is out of the hospital and facing her fears.

Moon Knight is searching the hideout of the Raiders. He fllows the smell till he comes across a delirious woman with some sort of chemical burn blotches all over her.

Looking around, he realizes, Steven Grant has been here before. An old factory he had been trying to save to create jobs has fallen into ruin.

The factory is left to rot and all the chemicals inside are left there as well.

He radios to Frenchie to make sure medical is on standby. These kids have been living in the toxic waste too long.

He asks if the police got anything out of Frank when they grabbed him.

Yeah... they didn't get him. He got away.

And he's still looking for food from Gena.

Back at the diner, we see Gena trying to clean up on her own.

She is skittish as she cleans but tries to tell herself that no one's coming for her.

"Besides, I'm not gonna let anybody or anything chase me away from what's mine!"

And that's when Frank breaks back into Genas’.

Moon Knight finds one of the kids conscious enough to talk. Alcaide, their leader, didn't let them leave the hideout. He found drums full of a top secret toxic waste that drove people wild and crazy.

Moon Knight recalls that Grant had learned that the factory used to work for the government.

"Grant saw that in their public records. But the Spector part of me can't help but wonder if they didn't also do some more discreet research for the feds."

Bingo bango. He finds the drums, filled with "Primal Project" chemicals.

Oh! time for a Marc Spector flashback!

"Spector was working for the feds at the time, escorting a man named Wenzel through a south American jungle..."

They were heading to meet up with a professor in Manaus (that’s in Brazil!) to shut down the Primal Project.

"It was supposed to slow a man's thinking process...Make him docile...Easy to handle. Something went wrong." Wenzel talks about the project.

Marc stops them in their tracks. He hears something stalking them from the trees above.

A creature leaps at them and Marc fires his gun.

The beast is hit and lays dead. Deformed and animalistic.

Marc asks if this is the work of the professor they're heading to see.

"Spector...That IS the professor."

They reach the campsite to find men dead across the site and more creatures running around.

They are attacked adn have to fend off the beasts. They ended up blowing up the site to get rid of the beasts and the remaining chemicals.

Apparently not all the chemical was destroyed.

Now, Alcaide, the gang leader, approaches, fully a beast now.

Back in the diner, Gena fights for her life.

The cops have arrived at the factory and the paramedics are working on the gang.

Moon Knight still battles the crazed beast and so does Gena.

The next day, Jake stops in to see Gena.

Most of the kids will make a recovery and their lawyers claim they were unter the influence of the Primal toxin.

Gena is still shaken deeply.

"I trusted Frank like he was one of my own, Jake...And every time I come in here all the pain comes back. Maybe it wasn't all his fault, but nobody forced him to join that gang. And is it right that I can't walk into my own diner without getting sick?"

Jake tries to comfort her. Or perhaps, he reaches out to her in a way that he wishes he could with himself and with Marc. Because he knows that it does eat them up. It eats Marc up every day. He isn’t sure if it will ever stop eating them up.

"No. But you're too good a lady to let this eat you up forever."

"Yeah... I'll work it out."

Poor Gena.

She shoos them away. She needs to lock up for the night.

This story is beautiful. This one time special guest writer, Tony Isabella and artist Bo Hampton really did a beautiful job here.

They manage to keep the usual Moon Knight pace and story feel. We have Jake trying to protect his people. We have Gena facing a kid she helped to raise up, despite him not being her own, joining a violent gang and hurting her, we have Governmental neglect to clean up their mess and doing experimental biochemical weapons on unsuspecting people (a thing that really did happen in ‘Nam), we have economic failure for the factory that lead to the failure to clean up the toxic chemicals, and then we go back to Gena who is now facing trauma.

No one in this story won. No one goes home feeling good about the day. They just have to pick themselves up again and move on. And they shouldn’t have to. Yet here they are, facing it all alone.

This moves us to the short story afterwards. "The Vault of Knight."

This is a weird one. Stranger still is that the short is written by the same person who wrote the main line. That’s pretty rare. Usually the short is done as a commission to be filler or bonus issues.

Weirder still is the way it’s presented. A commentary on the main storyline! I've seen it done before. It's sort of like the Watcher to the audience.

We have a strange looking character that addresses the audience. He's dressed like a baseball catcher with a Cubs cap on. Fitting.

He calls himself "The Score-Keeper".

And this... Let me tell you....

"Aloha, Adventure-addicts! Was twenty-four pages of gratuitous Do-Gooding enough for you...Or does your Hero-Habit demand even more of (yawn) Moon Knight's exciting escapades? I'm your sinister statistician, The Score-Keeper, and what I wanna know is...

What is this Turkey in his cowled skivvies accomplishing? Does he really make a difference? Let's add it up. You can't lie to a Scorecard!"

Interesting. A common question that pops up in Moon Knight comics.

"Take last story for example. Sure he put ONE gang of teen terrors out of commission, but what's he doing about the rest of the anti-social adolescents in this city?"

We see Moon Knight on a stakeout, waiting where someone's been hitting the same place for a week.

The someone is two punks that dress up like werewolves and rob the shops in the area. In fact, they've hit five places in the past week alone!

They hit a store where an old man cowers in fear....Until Moon Knight swoops in and knocks the thugs out.

"You...You're that Moon Mensch fella! And you came into MY shop to save me from those Gonifs."

"It's sort of my job." Moon Knight pauses.

"Nu? To you, it's maybe a job. To me, if my store gets robbed, maybe I don't eat that night. So I thank you a lot, you and your job."

"Friend, it was a mechaieh."

Oh boy oh boy oh boy you have no idea how happy I am to hear Moon Knight say THAT.

Back to the score-keeper, he's not impressed. "Why can't these heroes ever save Bloomingdales?"

And the score-keeper starts talking about Gena and the previous issue.

"What about Gena? One of Moon Knight's own team and he couldn't prevent what happened to her in this issue's other story. I don't think she's over it yet."

We see Gena's boys Ray and Ricky head into the diner.

"What did you want to talk to us about?"

"I...I was talkin' to your uncle Rollie today, the one with the big restaurant out in Houston and he...Well, he kinda offered...I mean..."

Score-Keeper scoffs.

"Way to go M.K. While you're brushin' up on your Yiddish, one of your closest friends is bookin' this urban paradise. Maybe we should ask the rest of your little outfit what they think of you..."

And this cracks me up because we get Frenchie, Marlene, and Crawley. Each one speaks of a different altar. And Frenchie is just SO pissy about it and so protective of Marc... He calls him his friend. Marc could always count on Frenchie back in the day.

I’m…Not going to get into the “Faces of Eve” thing. It’s… A lot. But it was the big DID story and eventual movie that came out around this time that somewhat inspired a loose input into the creation of Moon Knight having DID.

"You ask me, you care more about these guys than you care about Moon Knight."

A misnomer. These people are what makes Moon Knight and keeps him going. In his adventures, helping him, and even when he fails them, they stay with him.

Score guy jabs at it, noting that Moon Knight hasn't protected any of them.

Frenchie's girlfriend, Marlene's brother, Crawley's son...

He moves on to Detective Flint.

Flint waits for him in a back alley.

"Something happened --Didn't want you to read about it in the papers first. That Alaide kid you brought in was found dead in his cell an hour ago."

"Yeah, that would've ruined my Breakfast all right."

(Honestly, Jake is the one that reads the morning paper and eats breakfast. Jake would have been upset.)

"Wasn't anybody's fault, guy. You know how crazed the kid was --He strangled himself before anyone could get to him."

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

"No...This is. It's the room number of the officer that was injured that night."

Moon Knight pays the officer a visit. The officer is surprised to see him, thinking that he might not come.

"Flint tells me that storage drum busted three ribs. I'm sorry. Maybe if I'd moved a little faster..."

"It's all part of the job. But I don't have to tell you that...

You know, I figure you're pretty much a regular guy under that mask. Weird clothes, but no special 'powers'. I'll be honest... This job scares me a lot, like all the time. I was shaking when I went into that warehouse."

Sometimes he doesn't see the good he does.

Sometimes all he can see is the pain he leaves behind. Blaming himself for the pain of his friends.

Maybe he doesn't really understand why this Daniels is thankful for him. But maybe in this moment he thinks it might be worth it. It might be why he is still trying.

Back to Score-Keeper. It's time to add up the score.

"Is Moon Knight doing any good or is he just swinging against the wind?"

He looks at the results and seems surprised. Ripping up the scorecard, he tells us to figure it out for ourselves and leaves.

A weird story, but I'm not mad at it. It ties into the main story line, shows the aftermath of what happened, and still shows their friends standing by them.

It also lets Moon Knight take a moment to feel appreciated.

And it does ask a question that Moon Knight has asked time and time again. “Am I doing good?”

Is he causing the harm or is he just shouldering the blame because of his past traumas? The question remains over the years as things become more and more broken for them, and the answer has always been there. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard for them to see it… or accept it.

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight comics #Analyzing the comics #Marc Spector #Steven Grant #Jake Lockley #Pleasantly surprised

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ilreleonewikia13 · 11 months

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Before you read, I wrote the first draft of this post in October, then I resumed it in April, but then in May I decided to heavily re-edit it when I noticed the massive grammatical errors that I left. So the version you will read is quite changed from its original form. Starting with the decision to split it into more chapters and not in a single piece as I did before. I even tried to add more characterization to some events as I noticed that maybe I rushed up some important things, cause when I wrote this "fanfic that is not a fanfic" I didn't have a clear vision of the events in their complexity. Some parts were very detailed and explained well, while other parts are only briefly mentioned. As I re-edit it I tried to make everything more cohesive and pleasing to read. For this reason, unlike the first version, this post will only be about the disclaimers and the introduction of my "fanfiction not fanfiction", as the whole "story" will be published on AO3. As I'm writing this I've already posted 2 of the 5 parts, and right now I'm working on the editing of the 3th chapter.

The Doom in Our Blood Comes Back - the Fanfic of a Fanfic

INTRODUCTION TO THE MANUSCRIPT: THE CHRONICLES OF TWO DRAGONS

TRIUMPHS AND DEFEAT

THE CONQUEST OF DORNE

RUBIES AND IRON

When do you start to realize that a fanfiction stops being just a fanfiction and becomes a real work of entertainment?

For me it's when reading it makes you want to theorize about it as if it were a real book and even before it is finished: this is what happened to me with "The Blacks and the Greens" by @sweetestpopcorn a fanfiction (which almost every fan who started watching the series has read if like me you went looking for Daemyra fanfics on AO3 as soon as it started) that tells the story of the Dance of Dragons starting with the idea that Daemon and Rhaenyra got married as soon as their "affair" was discovered, thus an AU of the original plot leading to a completely different scale of events from the original plot of the series/book.

This story, still in progress (at the exact moment I’m writing this post it arrived “just” at its 170th chapter) has gripped me so much this past month that my brain convinced me that this was the real canon story and made me completely forget about the existence of the TV series: so if you are interested to read this AU I suggest you read the original fic, even if it’s a little bit long cause it’s totally worth it.

I thought about writing an actual story about these ideas I had but then changed my mind. It didn't make sense to write about one idea when I already had a bigger story planned that wasn't finished yet.

As I said before, the story from where I take inspiration is only halfway done and things might change a lot in the upcoming chapters as I write this post. This means that the characters I'll talk about in this headcanon might have died to are going to because I don't control the story, the author does.

As I write this post, my idea for "this story" went in a totally different direction than what the original author intended. It became its own separate version of the Blacks and the Greens, with a different set of rules and logic.

I am a big fan of the Black side in the civil war and like happy endings. I wanted Helaena to be happy with her kids and for Rhaenyra to rule the Seven Kingdoms with her husband and raise her five children. In my imagination, the Greens give up quickly and Rhaenyra becomes the Queen without any fighting. She brings both sides together and makes the dynasty stronger.

This means that in this universe almost all of the Targaryen family is still alive and because the war didn't last too much the finance of the kingdom is not significantly damaged making the reign of the Black Queen very prosperous and full of innovations, technically and artistically speaking, making for them more effortless to conquest Dorn and made Westeros finally United.

The first idea for this story was to talk about Rhaenyra and Daemon's five children and their fun experiences instead of just focusing on Rhaenyra and Daemon's relationship, which is already the main focus of The Blacks and The Greens.

When I was reading the fanfic for the first time, I knew that liked Baela the most because of her personality: plus in my head, she's like a female version of Daemon for this reason, I decided to use her as the main character in my story.

She, in my mind, had the right characteristic to be our main POV, being, in my head, the “middle child” of the group - so the one who is between Aegon and Viserys (the boys) and Rhaena and Visenya (the girls) - and that belong to both of the two worlds, the feminine and the masculine, and have both these sides with her. She, in my fantasy, will spend a lot of time with her two brothers, with whom she will share a very strong bond as a very strong rivalry for the attention of their father; with the girls too she will have a special relationship. Especially with Rhaena who is her twin, who is, in some way, her opposite and her complementary, especially in the way they decide to express their femininity over the years. I think that in the Book-canon, Baela looks more masculine than what it was depicted in The Blacks and the Greens, and because this headcanon is heavily inspired by that fanfic, I decided to follow this vision more than the canon one.

In this universe, she dresses like a combination of Queen Visenya, whom Baela really likes, and Queen Rhaenys. Baela is both strong and sensual like her mother Rhaenyra. She wears bright colors like red and loves jewelry.

I thought about what clothes would look good on her at the court. I imagined she would like dresses that were fun and sexy, with low necklines and tight bodices. These dresses would be like armor to her and would have lots of beads on them. I got ideas from the outfits worn by Anne Boleyn in the show The Tudors, which I really like.

She likes to show she is comfortable with her sexuality, without feeling ashamed for having fun with men as she thinks that both women and men should be able to act in the same way. Besides her regular clothes, I also see her wearing softer and masculine tunics as she trains, showing how much she loves the culture of the East continents. Even though she doesn't like to study, Baela enjoys reading High Valyrian poems and listening to Lysene music, as she prefers to sing over playing it. I can imagine her spending time flying and staying with her dragon more than her siblings. She will become very fond of her dragon, Moondancer. She will also train with her brothers with the sword and be very good at it.

Because Baela became a such strong and intense character in my mind, I started to think that she needed an equally strong and enigmatic counterpart that matched it, but at the same time opposed it and gave it a hard time: or in reality the opposite, that is someone she could challenge and confront, someone equally crazy and reckless, but by the opposite and darker energy.

And so that at any moment this post headcanon "The Blacks and the Greens" has become somehow a story focused on Baela and Aemond, or at least with a particular focus on the relationship and the clashes between these two.

Let me make it clear that the choice to "pair" these two characters were not based on a double interpretation of the original story, which clearly shows a strong dislike for Aemond and the Greens in general. The decision to highlight Aemond's character was solely influenced by the irresistible charm of Ewan Mitchell, the actor who played the role in the television adaption, which unfortunately clouded my judgment. To be absolutely clear, I have never felt any form of empathy towards him during my entire fanfiction journey, except for some mere pity.

There were multiple factors that led me to spare the lives of Aemond and Aegon, as I believed it would be more gratifying to let them suffer as they experienced the consequences of all the actions that they made thought the first half of The Blacks and the Greens and the accompanying disgrace of their defeat, rather than simply executing them on the spot.

In this headcanon, Aemond will undergo significant transformations, causing a profound shift in his mentality and character due to experiencing a series of intense and traumatic events. As a result, this version of Aemond will differ significantly from both the Bookcanon and the Blacks and the Greens. The decision was serendipitously influenced by reading a particular sentence in the fanfic where the detestable Aemond ridicules Daemon for allowing Rhaenyra to mistreat him and become submissive to his sister, referring to him as a "slut." Aemond expresses his reluctance to ever allow a woman to control him as his uncle did.

Well, these two simple sentences made me decide that I need to create my own headcanon where Aemond would become the exact thing that he always derided his uncle for: a "loser" who would be bossed around by all the women in his life. And not only command but as a great misogynistic bastard who was, after touching the bottom of the funds, it would be a woman to save him and put him on track, making him feel indebted to her.

So this is how this literary experiment was born.

A simple and very banal enemies-to-lovers story with A LOT of drama and a bunch of dragons, but that needs the perfect setting to work, for this reason, most of the work I did was on figuring out how to set the side character and the background events in a way that could serve my goal.

As I specified many times in this exaggeratedly verbose disclaimer and in the tags this is not actual fanfic, I will not so use a prostatic style like many other stories in this platform, still, I want my readers to have a pleasing experience while reading this work, the result of a very elaborate mental wank and my pressing need to take my mind off my real duties, so I decided to write the whole thing as if it were a cross between historical writing and the introduction to a Greek tragedy.

Imagine, just like in Fire and Blood, that an obviously bored scholar set out to write the memoirs of Rhaenyra and her deeds; as I tried to make up this story I even tried to figure out the timeline of our characters' birth, some of them are the canon ones used in the books, while the others are the ones I tried to calculate trying to use some mathematics and the information that the writer give us on her fic. This means that it's not very precise, but I hope it's remotely accurate.

Aemond= 110

Daeron =114

Addam=114

Alyn=115

Larra= 115

Aegon III = 118

Viserys = 119

Daenaera = 120

Baela and Rhaena =121

Visenya= 125

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera = 123

Maelor = 127

Baelor = 130

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sibyl-of-space · 11 days

Text

It's almost midnight I spent literally my entire day working on ghost trick romhacking and I feel like I have Nothing to show for it. I fixed the approach issues from last time and spent So Many Hours painstakingly testing the chapter.xml.lz file and I am now 900% more knowledgeable about that file's structure than I was before, I know exactly which hex codes to edit to make it try to load a different stage than the one it's supposed to (in fact there are two different ways I can do this that have slightly different results and one of them sometimes causes crashes), but some things are breaking in ways that I simply cannot explain. And unfortunately everything that I did successfully learn has inevitably brought me to the conclusion: the data that I want is not here. I can change everything that there is in the code to change about a particular chapter, and it does not appear to impact how the progression for that chapter is loaded. It impacts everything else but that. I think that the progression data might just be pulled from a save file.

(on the plus side, I did SO much testing of the chapter file that I could probably publish a document on it, which I might do eventually. I spent literally an entire day on it so even though it's useless for my purposes I might as well put that out there.)

I am running out of places in this entire game's code for the data I'm looking for to be. Where the fuck is it. This shit is going to drive me insane.

I do think, however, that there is a good chance these last two Things may be considered part of the UI and not rendered at all like normal talk sprites despite looking the same. I have many reasons for thinking this.

- still present when the text files associated with them are removed (for all other talksprites in the game, the text and the sprite are defined at the same time in the same place)

- so far, basically none of the changes that I've made have impacted the overall game UI, so if this is a UI thing that would explain why I haven't found where it's modified yet

- one of the remaining sprites is animated which is not true for any other talksprite in the game so it's not hard to imagine that even though it looks like a talksprite, in terms of implementation it might look very different

- one thing I've been testing for the database and system files is replacing the English ones with French ones just to see what gets translated in the game when I do that. And I haven't found where the UI gets translated yet. This translates database entries and text bubbles but it does not translate the text on buttons, the menu categories, and such - if I can figure out what file translates those UI elements maybe I can figure out this final extremely infuriating piece of the puzzle I've been stuck on for so much longer than I have wanted to be.

There were at least four different things I tried today that I was like "this might legitimately solve the problem and if it does I'm going to be mad (because it's something I overlooked early on) but at least it'll be done"... and then none of those things panned out. I hate romhacking never let anyone tell you that it's a fun hobby they're lying

#leo tries modding ghost trick #just had an ADHD moment today where I was like I'm going to just spend my entire day doing nothing but this in super mega focus mode #which is great when that pans out and it sucks when it doesn't

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greypetrel · 1 year

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WIP (almost) Wednesday!

Tagged by @shivunin (thank you! <3), I could wait a hour to post it and make it a WIP Wednesday but I'm bound from here to finish another prompt, SO.

Tagging @melisusthewee (beating you on time for once) and @star--nymph. Again, don't worry if you want to ignore this! And if you're not tagged but would love to: say Friends and enter (and consider yourself tagged).

So, it's been a hectic week work-wise and I don't have much new to show, so I'll go for the list as well...

Dragon Age:

- Home Was Never on the Ground: AKA the Monster Fic. I'm slowly making my way up Chapter 26, I'm being slower because this is following an idea that got discarded by the writers but that I found cool. I just need to cause an explosion and convince Aisling to please wait before pestering Solas with much overdued questions, and maybe I could edit and post it.

- DadWolf AU: I'm writing here and there, but I'm containing myself if not for prompts. I would really like to make this more structured than not Monster fic, and before starting I want to have the full picture outlined. The thing that I'm still mulling over is the villain: I'd love to just... Keep Corypheus away and make it more a "Mages vs Non-Mages" thing as in DA2. I just need to settle all the pieces of the puzzles together and it's where we're getting quite different from the game. Solas is in the open with people close to him (Varric knows he's the DreadWolf, Aisling and Dorian got told when they got big enough, Malcolm knew as well and I suppose the other Hawkes too), the main issue will be the Venatori trying to get their hands on Fen'Harel Orb. Again, I still need to pin point some things but we're getting there, I have a rough outline.

- DA2: I've been pondering over whether to make an anthological AO3 collection of DA2 ficlets. Which may even bring me to write more about it without prompts, but take this with a grain of salt. I add below a stamp of a WIP I've been working on and I am stressing over. Following @ndostairlyrium (tag! You're it! AH!) suggestions over colouring and trying to put it into practice. Picture me screaming internally and I may or may not have done the shading twice. (and using too many levels forgive me Ali for my colouring loco)

Originals:

- The Last Bacchae: It's been THE YEAR since September, but I'm finally -hopefully- getting my shit together and going forward with Chapter 6. It's an urban fantasy, main character Seren litterally stumbled over Dionysos (THE Dionysos) and got a contract as an intern Bacchae. Her family may not be entirely happy about it. Chapter 6: we're camping at Hephaistos' house, he's of course extremely happy to have 4 of his siblings around and 2 mortal teens there (he's the only one who cooks, go figure). Right now Seren is making friends with him on being two grumpy introverts, good at their passions enough to result annoying for all the family. You could read it here if you're curious: @thelastbacchae

- Till Queendom Come: I blocked myself writing a chapter which was honestly more than I could chew. I have primary sources I'm following, but between the crippling doubt over whether I'm reading them good and the extreme unpleasantness of this particular bunch of research... I'm kinda blocked. I'm slowly making my way up and I miss 5 pages to end this chapter. Still I'm quite tearing my hair off over it and crying because half of the time I feel like I'm the wrong person to write this story, the other half I'm quite in love with it and want to go on. Busy period doesn't help. I'll get there... Slowly.

#wip wednesday #wip #greypetrel #dragon age #tagged #till queendom come webcomic

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callofdooty · 1 year

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5-4-3-2-1 Tag Game!!

Tagged by @alidravana ! Thank you so much for the tag! :D

top 5 works i’m proudest of (not in any particular order):

Since I only have two actual works, I'll just put them both LOL:

Just Us - Keegan and Merrick havea moment after the events of the game

My Bed Is A Pool And The Walls Are On Fire - Keegan being delirious for 1000 Words

top 4 current wips i’m excited about:

Mostly all Whumpuary works since they've got my full attention rn LOL

Woken Up Like An Animal - Fill for the prompt Nightmares. Logan makes friends with Mouse after he accidentally kicks her across a room. Title is a line from Human by Daughter (aka one of the best Logan songs to exist LOL)

Keegan's Hypothermia fic - Prompt fill for Hypothermia and "Stay With Me" - Trying to play into the found family as much as I can because I am a SUCKER for it) Pending title ^^

My Heroes Are Dead (They Died In My Head) - Prompt fill for Betrayal. Bitter stream of consciousness, takes place after Struck Down, from Keegan's perspective (but Ajax's fate will be left ambiguous so he might be dead, might be canon divergence that lets him live) Title is a line from Diluted by Slipknot

I Won't Give Up On You (So Don't Give Up On Me) - Prompt fill for "Don't Do This" and Blurry Vision. Not entirely sure what this will entail but it will probably center around Hesh and Logan :) I love :) Angst :) I'm just hella into the title and the prompts as a combination. Title is a line from The Sadness Will Never End by Bring Me The Horizon

top 3 improvements in my writing:

Actually rewriting drafts. A lot of the time, I don't typically rewrite drafts, but for some of the Ghosts ficxs, I've actually got multiple different versions of fics LOL

Uhh I'd say I've definitely developed a stylised way of writing? Which, is actually pretty much just the way I write normally AHA - a lot pauses in strange places, and of course the angsty internal monologuing. I also like messing with structure when I can (Unfortunate House of Leaves simp over here)

Catching when my tenses slip. I don't know why, it might be due to roleplaying, but I find that I often flip between past and present tense in the middle of writing (where it wouldn't make sense to) But I've been able to catch it, lately. Makes editing fics a bitch LOL

top 2 writing resolutions:

Just posting more honestly. Last fandom I wrote fics for got a grand total of three fics because I didn't get to finish the others LOL, and then I kind of drifted off to other things (it's still some of my best angst work, so hopefully I can bring that energy to the Ghosts. The character I fixated on actually might have some similarities to Logan ssooo 👁 👁)

Maybe trying to branch out more? My two modes of writing are Hurt/No Comfort (hilarious, because I hate reading Hurt/No Comfort) and Whump so maybe I can try smth else? Maybe romance? Definitely not something I'm familiar with writing, but it feels like something I could try. (The real issue is finding ships I wanna write about /hj)

number 1 favourite line:

Hmm, this is hard, so I'm going to make up for all the other ones I can't fill by giving a few LOL

From Just Us, I'm quite fond of this line:

Shame stirs in his stomach, making him nauseous before working its way up, gripping his heart and then balling up to cause a lump in his throat that he tries his best to swallow around. "I miss him." The shame ignites like a gasoline trail, flaring quickly into anger (whether it's at himself or Rorke... it's hard to tell with all the smoke) that only makes him feel more sick. "God damn it, I miss that piece of shit."

From the Nightmares fic I'm working on (almost done with it!):

Her eyes did more than enough talking on that front, strangely expressive for how closed off she otherwise seemed. They told a thousand stories; all indecipherable, written in a language that no one could speak of, but could understand all the same. The mind's exact tales of suffering were locked away, hidden, but their effect still seemed to shine from the soul's very own fractured looking glass. A hint of resignation acted as dust upon the reflection's surface; a house haunted by time more than any other phantom.

and then this giant excerpt from a WIP abt Hesh :)

Occasionally, a glimpse will come to Hesh’s mind. Sometimes it’s intrusive, lightning flashing against a canopy of dark clouds, shaking the foundations of his mind with a deafening roar. Sudden, brief and violent in nature. Other times it’s… slow. Easy and gentle, like ocean waves crawling their way up the beach; soft, hushed. Almost comforting, if not for the deep grief that the tide often brought with it, the wind brushing by carrying the faint echoes of laughter and excited voices.

On days like this, the wind only seems to carry his own distant screams. The tide now feels lonelier than it ever did. That one set of footprints trailing in the sand was just that; a single set. The second set of imprints settled in his own stride now gone.

Instead, the ghost of his shadow is embedded yards away, a trench dug out by desperately grasping hands, reaching for anything. Reaching for him.

It’s still the gentle ease of a memory washing over him, sea foam gathering, swaying and receding slowly, but that’s perhaps what makes it worse. The slowness. The time he has to sit there and dismantle himself from the inside out, while his own head taunts him with things he no longer has, can no longer reach out for. Even the ebb and flow of water can wear down cliffs with enough time, steady and persistent in its movements.

Imagery galore! LOL

tagging... @bubble-dream-inc , @goorehound and @neon-amnesia (If y'all want to, don't feel pressured to! ^^)

Basic Template:

top 5 works i’m proudest of (not in any particular order):

top 4 current wips i’m excited about:

top 3 improvements in my writing:

top 2 writing resolutions:

number 1 favourite line:

#54321 game #tag game #call of duty ghosts #doot does things #long post

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sidhewrites · 6 months

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Lucky number 13! In the middle of writing this chapter, I decided that Renfield is actually going to be Kaz's cat, instead of Lucy. If there's any confusion in this draft about it, then that's just how it goes until I get to editing.

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The three of us place our hands on the planchette, Lucy being careful not to let her fingers touch ours. I feel stupid. This is the type of thing I mock people for. The kind of thing that causes my attention to drop in horror movies. Ouija boards are a patented toy created to make money and sell the spiritualism movement, not a legitimate method of contacting the dead.

I know Josie thinks something happened that night.

I know that some dead haven't moved on. I know that now.

But it still feels stupid as hell.

"Hello," Josie begins. "I'm looking for the person who spoke to the Haunted Archivists a month ago. Are you here?"

We wait for the planchette to move. Lucy looks up, glancing around, but doesn't seem to find what she's looking for.

"Hello?" Josie tries again. "If you're here, give us a sign. Move the piece, or touch one of us. Anything."

We wait. I get antsy after only a few seconds, but manage to hold out until almost a minute before asking, "Is anything happening?"

"Give it time. Maybe we're doing it wrong, or something's out of place, or...?"

"We were standing by the tree," Lucy suggests, but when we try that, nothing else happens. If anything, it feels less successful, and I feel completely useless, watching Josie try to contact the dead on her own, kneeling in the grass. I hope she isn't getting too much mud on her pants.

We try again with all three of us sitting around the board. If nothing else, it makes me feel less useless, but to no avail. Josie frowns, sitting back when yet another round of questioning goes unanswered. "Maybe we need the rest of the supplies they had. The teddy bear, or an electromagnetic sensor, or..." We're grasping at straws here. It hurts to see.

A man's voice cuts through the night. "Are you done?"

All three of us snap our heads towards the source of the voice. Renfield sits up in his bed, eyes focused on our little circle. Something about him looks -- older. Aware, and unhappy.

"Uh..." I point uselessly. "Did he just talk?"

"Did he just talk?" Renfield mocks me, raising the pitch of his voice into a girlish falsetto. "Yes. He did. And he's getting tired of this -- though, admittedly, it was fun watching you girls struggle for a time there."

"The cat is talking," Lucy says.

"Yes, the cat is talking. The cat is using his mouth to make words. Let me know when you've finally grasped reality so we can move on." His voice is gruff. Makes me think of an old business man or a miner from the 1800s.

"The cat can see you," I say.

"Renfield...?" Josie asks, brows furrowed.

"Not quite."

"What--"

"Oh, stop talking for one second, would you?" He sighs heavily -- an old man's sigh. It's nothing he's ever done before. Renfield begins to circle us, still uncertain on his legs, but there's a distinct grace to him he hasn't had for years. Maybe never had it at all. "That's the problem with this world. Nobody ever shuts up for a minute and listen to their elders."

It's my turn to ask, "What?"

"Every year, it seems, the world gets louder. Machines move in and get turned on, and they make a massive racket for years, worse and worse until they finally give out and get turned off. Then you bring in more machines to take them apart and replace them with something else. And children!"

"Is he lecturing us?" Lucy asks.

"Oh, god, the children. The way you girls are raised nowadays. And the boys are no better, make no mistake. But it's the world. It's the world now, isn't it?" He scoffs. "Endless noise, so you don't have to suffer with any one of your difficult little thoughts. Nothing but noise. Nothing."

He comes to a stop, sitting on the Ouija board and somehow staring us all down.

"Renfield...?" I try one last time.

"No, stupid child, weren't you listening?" He all but spits on me. "My name is Magnus. And I lived here once. Long before you. Long before your telephones and radios and noise. And I'll be here to see it return to that silence again." Renfield -- or Magnus, I suppose -- chuckles, and stands. He turns to level us all with a single, malicious glare, and makes to step off the ouija board.

And then he falls.

He still doesn't know how to walk with four legs.

When RenfieldMagnus sits up again, he doesn't speak, or clear his throat, or anything. He meeps.

I bolt to his side, and scoop him up, cooing and comforting him before looking him over, and then looking out into the night.

"Uh..." I say, always the font of wisdom. "Did anyone else see what just happened?"

"Renfield's possessed," Josie says, short and simple if entirely incredulous.

"What? No, that's -- I stammer. That's stupid."

Apparently, so am I, based off of the look Josie gives me. "Okay. Sure. It's stupid. But he also literally just spoke to us with a whole monologue about how he hates the world, so."

"But--"

"She's right," Lucy says, frowning at the pile of fluff in my hands. "He couldn't make himself seen in this world, but he could slip in unnoticed amid all of little Renfield's fear that night."

"What, like -- like he's got fleas?"

"Well -- no, not exactly."

[Transition. But first, her coworker's shift is about to start so she has to get out of there before she's spotted.]

Lucy follows me to the front gate, though she makes a point of clearing her throat when we reach the [fountain/courtyard] separating it from the green.

I pull up short with an apology. “I’m gonna be honest, I already might have half forgotten you’re…”

“One foot into the aether?” She offers, but there’s a tinge of weariness under her helpful, chipper tone. I imagine she’s as tired as the rest of us, in her own way.

Actually I should probably ask instead of jumping to conclusions like normal. It’s something I’d gotten good at over the years — making excuses for people. Letting them say things and fitting in my own explanations. Sure maybe I was stood up by a date, or maybe she got into a car accident, or had personal trouble, or maybe she just couldn’t find her keys.

It was easy to guess Lucy didn’t eat due to diet restrictions. Maybe she didn’t like physical touch. My cousin hated to be touched and only let you tap your foot against his on special occasions. It was easy to give people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes I was right, sometimes I never found out. They didn’t owe me an explanation. I didn’t need to know everything…

Or maybe I just don’t know anything and never had.

It’s a fight not to sigh, even as the exhaustion of the night starts to sink in. Ghosts. Seances. Talking possessed cats. It’s been three weeks, and I didn’t even notice my new kind of girlfriend wasn’t human? Or — alive? I’m not even sure what the right terminology is here, and the uncertainty and oncoming existential crisis is giving me a headache. “Sorry. You’ve gotta be tired.”

“Some, yes. But I’m rather more irritated that our walk stops here.”

“Really? You can’t even follow me across the street?” I point. "My apartment is that one right there."

“The barrier of my world is often flexible, but I can feel the limit before I’ve reached it.”

“Huh.” I run a hand through my hair. My roots are showing through, dark brown against the bleach and faded pink, but I have time before it gets too visible. “What’s it feel like?”

She looks at me for a moment, a small crease between her eyebrows. When she finds the words, she says, “Like the air is heavier. Something unseen pushes me back, heavier and harder until I can barely breathe. I broke through it once, after nearly feeling like I’d died all over again, and…” She looks away, wringing her hands and failing to suppress a frown.

“Hey.” I step forward, about to reach out and take her hand, but stopping an inch short as I remember. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. Especially if it hurts.”

Lucy looks back at me then, and her face is so soft and full of emotion that it hurts not to reach out and kiss her then and there. I forget myself and close the distance between our hands — and flinch back. An icy jolt shoots up my arm and down my spine, and I can’t help but shiver in dread.

“My apologies,” she says, but her voice is lighter, and I see a spark of delight in her eyes, like she enjoyed that.

“No, I’m sorry, I should have…” I wave dismissively instead of trying to figure out what it was I should have done better. “Actually, I have to ask… how long, exactly, were you going to go without telling me what you are?”

She smiles openly now, mischievous despite clearly trying to appear apologetic. “I was going to, I promise. But I thought you’d figure it out first. I wasn’t exactly subtle at times…”

True, admittedly.

“But then, well, you didn’t. And so I was curious to see how long it would go on before you realized the truth.”

“Hm.”

“I'm not insulting you!” She rushes to add. “It was sweet in a way. I enjoyed being treated like a modern woman. I think I’d have quite liked it if I’d been alive today.”

“You mean you liked a brainless lesbian thinking you were hot shit, right?”

“No, that’s—“ she begins, but now I’m smiling right back, and she relaxes into a laugh. “I do like that you think I’m hot shit, yes. I like it very much.”

Oh damn it. Now my face is getting hot, and I can’t help but let out a stupid little laugh. And the way she delights in teasing me — it’s awful. I have no way of resisting that smile of hers, or the mischief it hides.

I get the feeling miss Lucille Blue has never been quite as innocent as her delicate features might suggest, least of all after almost 200 years. The idea of her life span (un-life-span?) hits me again, and I try to shove it back to worry about until I’m home again and able to properly collapse onto my bed and deal with this existential crisis.

For now, dawn is breaking. I have to say goodbye to my ghost girlfriend, and get my cat home.

This time, when I put Renfield's carrier down and open the door, he behaves normally. He steps out, looks around, and trots over to his food bowl to snack before curling up next to the window and proceeding to snore.

I stare as he goes, following his every move, trying to find signs of intelligence or ghostliness, but it seems to be gone.

Josie's voice echoes in my head: Magnus used up his strength last night. He can't manifest for a while, so Renfield's just going to act normal for a bit.

Which is stupid. That's all stupid, and impossible, because my cat isn't possessed.

Except...

Renfield begins to snore as I sit down across from him, resting my head on my hands and forcibly reminding myself to breathe.

It's impossible, except ghosts are real. And ouija boards work. And Renfield talked last night in a man's voice and delivered a veritable monologue worthy of a cartoon villain.

Ghosts are real, and I think my cat has a bad case of possession.

Tag List

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

#writeblr #writers #writers on tumblr #nano #nanowrimo #nano 2023 #nano wip #wip #writing #mystuff #wlw #wlw fiction #supernatural romance #supernatural comedy #original fiction #graveyard lesbians

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chaostheatre · 8 months

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(This is a response to the post from August 13th… finally. I went through all the stages of grief while writing this; even if I’m cringe, at least I am free. If some parts are poorly edited, I'm sorry, I'm already very tired)

Oh well, I didn`t thought it could be interesting… In this case I should probably put all the pieces together for you, `cause only God knows when I'm going to write a separate post about this for my blog.

Very important thing before I start: everything that will be described below is based on an analysis of the thematic literature and is not an expert opinion or a description of the experience I went through myself.

First of all, I should say that my interpretation of Gideon`s behavior in relationships is closely related to the state of counter-dependency. The reasons for this state lie in deep self-doubt and fear of abandonment. However, usually people with counter-dependency do not realize this, instead, thoughts of strong attachment make them feel vague apprehension, as if they are trapped. I suggest turning to the scene with the memory cam: Ramona points out to Gideon that while they were in a relationship, he seemed rather cold and detached, showing real interest only when she left him. Directly on camera we also see that Gideon perceives Ramona's expression of deep sympathy as something unhealthy and obsessive.

The situation is that people with counter-dependency on the stage of flirting and feeling slightly in love may seem almost perfect: involved, interested, not rushing things (because at this moment they are really serious about their partner). However, as soon as they`re sure that their sympathy is mutual and another person is ready for a long-term relationship, they lose interest. Such people love those they can't get, and those they are sure of quickly lose all attractiveness in their eyes. Back to the moment with the memory cam, the open expression of devotion and love on the part of a partner scares counter-dependent people, because it causes them a feeling of support, pleasant emotions, but at the same time a sense of too strong attachment to another person, fear that they will go too far, that at last the loss of partner will become like death to them (and the partner, of course, has countless reasons to leave; just another couple of weeks, months, years, and they will certainly understand).

This doesn`t mean that counter-dependent people don`t have the long-term relationships, but they do everything to destroy them, most of the time unconsciously. Often their partners suffer from indifference; such people use a variety of methods to establish distance in a relationship. In Gideon's case, it's obviously a job. Not like he hides behind it in an attempt to avoid intimacy, as it sometimes happens, he is rather obsessed with work, because, as I have already mentioned in my headcanons post, his sense of self-importance is almost entirely built on career success. And this is very well coinciding with his need to distance himself from the partner. Gideon has the power in relationships, it is he who determines when he wants to be with a partner and when he does not.

Although parting with a partner can really turn out to be like death for people with a counter-dependency, after a while feeling of oppressive commitment and anxiety finally leaves them. Counter-dependent person feels free, and sometimes realizes that the relationship itself wasn`t so bad, because they no longer feel trapped. This can lead to the cycle of resumptions and breakups. And I suppose that's the reason why Gideon was genuinely surprised by Ramona's accusations.

Okay, I think we done here, now to the main topic. What will be described next, in my mind, take place about seven years after the end of the last volume.

A long time ago, distancing oneself from the physical shell, from one's own body, became a blessing. Only he and his thoughts exist, and everything else is not true. It's all good. Now he is ready to rape himself in the most sophisticated way to break out of his own consciousness. He would like to be stupefied, condescend to an animal in order to achieve absolute ringing silence, absolute calm. The only way to escape is deliberate physicality. She puts on heels and underwear that he bought her. She does what he orders. Her every movement, every action individually does not matter, her main and only goal is to become comprehensive; for an hour, half an hour, fifteen minutes turn into a collective image of a woman who looks like everyone at once, and does not look like anyone at all, to be a body that will allow him to gain his own physicality, power over himself and over the whole world. She says what is happening allows her to concentrate entirely on the current moment, to feel alive, and he gets a shiver from the old, old memories. There is pain that is stronger than thought.

It's almost strange how much he hates parties, being the owner of the most famous nightclub in New York. The dance music feels disgustingly loud, even in the darkest corner he's chosen. Red lights flicker before his eyes, flashing on an endless array of chains and other trinkets, heaving along with the bodies of people twitching on the dance floor. His pal, jingling rings disgustingly, fussing and tries to work out non-existent objections: “I know it`s not your kind of thing and all, but, listen, The Man I’m talking about… you have no idea what he gets up with people.” Sometimes it seems to Gideon that anyone who looks into his face will be able to see nothing but utter devastation and despair. It's nice to think that others are still able to assume that such trifles can bewilder him. He accepts a business card from a ringed hand, and ten minutes later finds himself in the leather interior of a car on his way home.

He can't remember the last time he had sex for pleasure. Each time he feels himself losing control, trying to get rid of the obsessive tearing thoughts about his total insignificance; each time the impulsive act of possession becomes the way to regain control. It gets funnier as the years go by. All of Gideon's days are scheduled to the minute, which is the only reason why he still has a sense of time. Today is the third day of his vacation; it would be worth flying to the islands, or at least to California. He lies on the bed and stares at the ceiling. How long will it last? He is almost forty, and every day he feels the need to confirm his importance in his own eyes. Name, status, money, compulsive sexual behavior, it will never be enough. All his self-image, all self-confidence is a house of glass, covered with thin cracks, which he diligently tries to close up with duct tape. And if thoughts about his own insignificance do not leave him, why should they turn out to be false? Why run from what haunts you if it's true? Today he is ready to plunge into the pool of piercing fear and acrimony to choke. The dark blue card with an elegant monogram "W.W." lies in the bedside table, its corners are already pretty wrinkled. It's four in the morning, and he calls The Man who gets up incredible things, with a laconic request to flog him until he can't think straight.

He had let his personal driver go on the time of vacation, and now the taxi, with a man who kept looking at him strangely through the rearview window at the wheel, stopped the car near a low red brick building. Gideon paid and walked out onto the sidewalk. Everything seemed unreal. He hadn't slept for almost two days, and looked damn good for a man who had spent all that time in bed without closing his eyes. Obviously, he had a set of cosmetic tools in his bathroom, thanks to which people could get the impression that he was fresh and merry, and did not want to shoot himself before leaving the apartment. He smeared everything on himself. And put on a black tie for some reason. The whole thing looked like he was going to his own funeral. Gideon couldn't stand it and laughed nervously. Yes, now not a single soul will have any doubts that he is all right.

The door quietly, almost silently, opened. The Man stepped out on the threshold: a navy-blue shirt is three-button open and tucked into classic trousers with arrows, the sleeves are neatly rolled up, a dainty metal watch strap wraps around the wrist. Strictly, but at the same time quite relaxed, nothing superfluous. Sly, squinted eyes sparkled, thin lips stretched into a smile: "Mr. Graves, what a pleasant surprise." He led Gideon into the living room, cheerfully continuing, “You are very lucky that I'm strongly fucking up on deadlines before the managing editor, and it turned out you have some specific information that could be very useful to me. You see, your acquaintance style is quite… unconventional”.

The room had a light gray walls, minimum of furniture, the main accent on a big picture windows overlooking the opposite house. Not a single excess detail, everything in its place. A slightly muffled voice come from the kitchen: “Would you like something? Tea, coffee, something stronger?“. Gideon has very little idea of what's going on. Ten minutes ago, he seemed to be pursuing a very specific goal. Now he's just sitting in someone else's living room. What did he expected? To be dragged into the basement, lit by a single bare bulb hanging over the ceiling, brought to his knees so that they would bruise, deprived of the slightest opportunity to move, to see, to hear, so that the only thing left for him would be the awareness of his absolute insignificance and helplessness? Maybe that was exactly what he wanted when he came here. But now his state was close to catatonic in the absence of any direct impact, and still he felt a strange calmness. The snap of fingers is heard above his ear. The scent of lily, white musk and cleanness. Gideon focused, a smirk on the lips of his vis-a-vis became more and more pronounced.

The question "what do you want to feel?" put Gideon into a stupor. The only thing he wanted to feel is pain, pain stronger than thought, pain that will allow him to achieve complete absolute silence. The Man hides the thin line of a smile behind a glass of wine: “I get it already. What do you want to feel on the emotional level? What kind of condition to be in?".

Mortification. The light of streetlamps penetrates through the curtains, falling in a thin, faded strip on the carpet. It was dawning. Gideon knows he won't get what he wants tonight, but it doesn't matter. Today he pulled out a small hammer from the inside pocket of his jacket, and passed it into the hands of his vis-a-vis when put into words what he had been trying to obsessively drown out for years. And if he wants to see the shards of glass everywhere, let them scatter with a slight wave of the hand, which wrist is entwined with an elegant watch chain.

Okay, yeah, I think you already guessed it's Wallace. However, I like to use "The Man" in relation to him in the context of this sketch, as well as use "She". The image of Wallace in Gideon's life is somewhat less vague than the image of the women he had sex with, just as "The Man" is a less impersonal concept than "She", nevertheless, although Gideon was attached to him quite strongly due to his counter-dependence, perception features and because of what Wallace was able to give him, their relationship is rather utilitarian. But more on that later (I`ll just take a minute to say I adore what In English you have an article, that indicates we’re talking about a specific thing/person, sometimes it sounds very mysterious, can't resist using it). In general, there are a lot of parallels in the course of the text, I'm not sure it looks like parallels, and not like very strange random details… anyway.

I am convinced that journalism is one area in which Wallace simply has no chance of failing; with his skills he will quickly settle in New York and take a good position in some significant magazine (but before that, he will be certainly writing gossipy articles for a not-so-significant magazine under an alias). I also like to think that there are a lot of rumors and hoaxes around his personality, because technically he is not a public person and does not particularly shine anywhere, except for themed clubs, and in activities related to commercial sessions, he signs only with a monogram.

It may not be quite the dynamic you're expecting, because this relationship will certainly be traumatic for Gideon, but primarily because of his counter-dependency, as well as his general morale. The situation is as follows: Wallace has many men, quite a lot of clients, fleeting connections, Gideon has no one but Wallace. He could start other relationships too, but the sense of instability, the awareness that someone he needs does not belong and will never belong to him, makes him feel even more painful desire and fixate on this particular person. I don't think it's appropriate to talk about the feeling of love on either side here, but Gideon really needs him, because with Wallace he feels the least anxious, gaining that very silence of consciousness, albeit for a short time. Not like Wallace needs him, but he has a high level of empathy and insight, in which it is impossible not to understand what is going on with a person. He does his work very well, but he never had a rescuer complex, and he will be the one who ends this relationship when he realizes that Gideon will not mind at all if he strangles him with his own hands.

I'll explain, it is clear from the comic that almost nothing is known about Gideon's personal life. Wallace realized that things were bad literally from the very first call, but due to his own circumstances, he nevertheless agreed to meet with the caller. And when… you know, Gideon Gordon Graves indie-producer-of-the-millennium turns up on your doorstep at four in the morning after such a call, it is extremely difficult not to be interested. In a certain sense, Wallace is surely turned on by the fact that only the two of them have knowledge of this relationship and the fact that he is Gideon's first man. Ultimately, they will converge on certain aspects of their personalities (I-want-to-strangle-this-bitch-she-annoys me and I-am-so-fucking-exhausted-FOR-GOD'S-SAKE aspects of their personalities) and become useful to each other in solving some work issues.

So, when I talked about the playlist, I meant that in my head they are just doing bitchy business together, and the playlist sobered me, because the lyrics of literally all the songs that I put together for it contained a masochistic appeal for violence against oneself, and I remembered what these relationships are basically built on. The ultimate song for them is Discipline by Nine Inch Nails. And... actually, quite a large part of my Chaos Theatre playlist is dedicated to Gidsmona, and it's pretty toxic, I guess, so... (there are a few songs referring to Envy and his other women, but I think you'll figure out what's what).

I've never really thought about combining these two lines before (where is Gideon with Wallace and where is Gideon with Ramona), but now a silly thought has occurred to me… I actually like to think that Wallace is still in contact with Ramona, and after her breakup with Scott, they began to communicate even closer, so Wallace has a very good idea of what is going on with her… and he'll be the one who will eventually bring them together with Gideon. I willingly believe that he's like oh well, it's either going to make things a lot better, or bring them to the grave completely, worth a try. And we're going to have this stupid trope where he's booking a table for two at a restaurant, texting both of them to meet up, and then he just doesn't show up.

Oh… I think it's all for now. I've been writing this post for almost five days in a row; my English skills will surely get better after what we're doing here xd (I'm sorry if I messed up in the process of translating, you'll never know anyway... and neither will I any time soon). I'm a weak woman, I couldn't resist making a pun with "thinking straight". And I must say that I was close to tears, reading the post you managed to put up while I was writing all of this (the one from August 14th)… I don't know how I got here with my secure attachment style, lack of traumatic experience in relationships and complete neurotypicality (and I'm very worried about I can write a bunch of utter nonsense in posts like this, because I have never encountered such experience; hope it's not awful). I just like villainous men, obviously... You can thank the lady of my heart for being introduced me to this movie and comics, because I'm very far from the geek culture and would never get to something like this with my range of interests including German expressionism, the Soviet/Russian avant-garde hangout and gothic literature. Oh yes, it's worth introducing myself after all. My name is Sofi (Sofia). Going to relax and just make Gidsmona aesthetic now, `cause deep inside I wanted to die during these five days; both love and can't stand to talk about my specific ideas, connected with the characters and ships…

Just a random thing at the end, I think a lot about the fact that allowing another person to take off your glasses before blindfolding is a big act of trust (I'm sure Gideon initially took them off himself). That's the kind of ship we have here....

"Directly on camera we also see that Gideon perceives Ramona's expression of deep sympathy as something unhealthy and obsessive."

THIS IS AN INCREDIBLY INTERESTING TAKE. I always read it as confusion, but him being almost disturbed about how much she cared for him? narrative excellence. brilliant. also fits in extremely well with how he reacted to her naming her cat after him. he was definitely freaked out

(also very attached to the idea that gideon was the first and possibly only person ramona was really ready to spend her life with but shhhhhh)

2. everything else:

first of all, this story taking place so long after the conclusion of the final book makes things make a lot of sense. at lot can change in seven years.

I can imagine how this would affect gideon. he never really gets over how things ended with ramona, and for years, he lets the feelings of shame and anger fester within him until he can't physically feel them anymore. his rage eventually turns to sadness and loneliness, and long nights where he wonders what could've been if he was someone different. long nights where he's tempted to visit her mind again and see what's happening, but refrains from doing so out of a fear of how it would affect his already frail state.

to this day, I still believe that gideon's deepest, most intrinsic desire is to be understood. he avoids commitment and love but I know that sometimes, his pathetic ass just wants to cry and be cradled like a baby so bad it hurts. he wants to look at a person and recognize his own humanity through them, and I think ramona made him feel like a person. which was scary, but also, insanely addictive. and I think the fact that she rejected him forced him to retreat back into his shell even further than before.

he's much older now. he's much lonelier. this is very self-indulgent of me to say, but I've always believed that ramona was the only person he'd ever loved, even after all she put him through. and this relationship is much different, because he's already so weak and fragile after everything, that he just doesn't care anymore. there's no love between them, but it gives gideon something to do and something to keep his mind busy, and off of his own misery.

it is so... not ramona. she was willing to give him her all and he wouldn't accept it, and then he gets put in a place with a person who doesn't care. for a while, it's freeing, it feels safe, because it keeps gideon right in his comfort zone- hidden away from the minefield of other's emotions. the weight of commitment is off his shoulders, but it couldn't possibly last without destroying him.

I see wallace as someone who's not so much into gideon for any reason besides him being somewhat interesting. I mean... gideon is not a fun person. as you said, he dislikes parties. he only gets drunk in his own home, and preferably alone. he spends most of his time working. he can be incredibly irritable and cross with other people. wallace really isn't any of those things. he's a social butterfly, he thrives off of attention and admiration from multiple people, he dislikes working, he loves being the center of attention, and he is endlessly patient, even with the idiots in his life. very extroverted.

neither of them would have any intentions of anything beyond physical pleasure and light conversation. no talk of committing, no boundaries, no worries. gideon doesn't see anyone else because for the time being, this is enough. when he realizes that he doesn't even care that wallace is with multiple other people, it hits him that this can't last. but, he ignores it, because he sees no real future for himself at this point. he's living in the moment entirely.

I also imagine there would be a lot of tension between them about the scott problem, because, well... wallace doesn't have a reason to dislike scott. he actually still likes him, and they talk from time to time (not frequently, but they do). but gideon can only see scott as the man who essentially ruined his life, and it's still a sore spot even after all those years. so there's this huge unspoken rule between them where they can't bring him up under any circumstances, because they have and will argue about him for hours.

and as you said, wallace is a very empathetic person. he can read people well. and I'm sure even before all the arguing, wallace had some idea that gideon had never grown past ramona. not that it hurt him because as you said, wallace never really cared for gideon beyond the thrill.

and again, as you said, wallace would eventually figure out that this thing was just too terrible to survive, even with the distance between them to begin with. so he did the mature thing and cut him off. it also continues the trend of gideon always being the one to get dumped, not the one to dump. all of his past lovers left him first.

there has been some buzz, especially on ao3, about gideon and wallace, and I'll be the first to admit that I could never see it working.

if anything, it would encourage gideon to be worse, to indulge in his worst, most harmful bad habits, and as we know, wallace is not one for monogamous commitment in general.

you, however, have written a very realistic and grounded look at what that kind of dynamic would be, how it would affect both of them, and then of course won me over with the ending. it just makes perfect sense for wallace, who was never attached to gideon as anything more than a person of interest, to decide that he could put to rest that part of his life by reconnecting gideon and ramona, who I'm sure has been painfully lonely since her own breakup.

every time I write a post-series au, I never seem to think of a way gidsmona would cross paths again. this fits PERFECTLY and actually checks out so much.

your english was good. thank you for your service

I'm very tempted to write an account of ramona's life during this time

#long post #analysis

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