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#even so i hope you enjoy my rusty attempt to get back into writing again!
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hello! it has been a long year but i’ve finally written something again! i hope it’s in character and my rustiness isn’t too evident but i’ll let you guys be the judge of that :p i hope you enjoy!
no less of a devil for that
Summary: 
“Actually, sweetheart-” and at the slow, careful tone his blood freezes. “I have something to tell you.”
“Oh.” His heart starts to race, panic ensuing. He runs through the checklist in his head. Jemma’s upstairs with the twins. Alya’s at school. Marnie’s at nursery. His mum is on the phone. She sounds strange but not hurt. It’s okay, he tells himself. It’s alright. Everyone is fine.
“It’s about your dad,” his mum says, and for a second Fitz thinks she’s talking about someone else. It takes him a second to make the title match the man. “I’ve seen him.”
There's the possibility for Fitz's father to make an unexpected return. Post-series featuring emotional conversations and four adorable Fitzsimmons children.
Read on Ao3  or taste the first little bit below!
Fitz’s stomach now rolls when his phone rings.
It’s involuntary, a sympathetic reaction to too many years of deception and separation. Ironic, really, that a simple device used for bringing people closer together inspires such a fear of being pulled away, but it’s just one of a long list of ironies in his life that he doesn’t think of it anymore. Besides, it’s been four years since he left SHIELD, and there’s only a very select few who have his number. Like a lot of things, he’s learned to live with it.
All the same, the nausea usually dissipates when he sees who it is, especially when, like now, he sees that it’s his mum. But today it doesn’t. In fact, it intensifies.
“Hello,” he answers, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he folds the washing. Now a father to four children, it seems to be never-ending.
“Hiya, sweetheart. You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, somewhat distractedly despite the ever-growing unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“That’s good, that’s good,” his mum says, though it sounds like she hasn’t really listened to him at all.
There’s a long pause. Fitz sighs in frustration. Alya’s red sock has somehow found its way into the whites load and now the twins have nice pale pink t-shirts and jumpers and hats and towels and… the list, like the washing, feels endless.
“Look, Mum, can I ring you back in a bit? It’s just I’m in the middle of-”
“Actually, sweetheart-” and at the slow, careful tone his blood freezes. “I have something to tell you.”
“Oh.” His heart starts to race, panic ensuing. He runs through the checklist in his head. Jemma’s upstairs with the twins. Alya’s at school. Marnie’s at nursery. His mum is on the phone. She sounds strange but not hurt. It’s okay, he tells himself. It’s alright. Everyone is fine.
“It’s about your dad,” his mum says, and for a second Fitz thinks she’s talking about someone else. It takes him a second to make the title match the man. “I’ve seen him.”
“Oh,” he says again, feeling his hand start to shake. He puts the washing back in the basket and lets his shoulder drop from his ear. His voice comes out strangled. “Where?”
“At my work.”
“Your wor… what, was he like a patient or something?” His head is spinning. He feels sick. All of a sudden he’s ten years old again and afraid of the dark.
“No, not like that. He… well he came to find me.”
Continue reading on Ao3!
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senanatheskenana · 8 months
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Hello! I loved your Sinclair post about their S/O leaving them. If you would like too could you please write a part 2 where the S/O comes back and the talk it out? Happy ending if at all possible only if you want too, I hope you have a great day!
I'm glad you enjoyed it :)
I hope this is ok, i tried my best but i've been a little bit rusty after my break from writing <3
Part two of this
The Sinclair Boys' S/O Comes home.
Bo Sinclair
Bo had exhausted nearly every option of where to find you.
He knew that even if the chance of getting you back was slim, he had to at least apologise- promise to be better. For once he needed to prove to someone that he was worth the fight.
Most of all, he needed to see you.
And he never admitted it, but a part of himself needed to see if you looked even a fraction of the way he did.
Bo turned up on your doorstep, hat in his hand, face covered in dirt, sweat, and who knows whatelse.
You had to admit he looked awful- worse than you'd seen him in months.
Even when Bo recognises he's done wrong, he doesn't always feel bad and her certainly never apologises for it.
Until now.
~~~~~
You stand there on the porch, staring expectantly at Bo as he struggled to find words. His throat was dry, and all of the things that he wished to say- the large speech he had spent days rehearsing and rewriting- melted into nothing at the back of his throat. He looked at you briefly before diverting his attention downward at his shoes.
"Beauregard, please say somethin'. I don't wanna stand in the cold all day," when he doesn't seem to respond, you more to shut the door on him. He panics and in a moment of adrenalin, sticks his hand in the doorframe to stop you from closing it. He doesn't so much feel it as he does hear the scraping crunch, letting out a hiss when you immediately reopen the door to let his trapped fingers go.
The next thing he knows, he's in your kitchen with a bag of ice wrapped around his hand. The lights in the kitchen are too bright for Bo, making everything but you seem hazy in the sleep deprived state hes in. You can see that hes not in a good state, but it worries you how he got here
"Bo, did you drive all the way by yourself?" you hope he says no, that Lester had driven four hours to get here. However, from looking into his truck, you know it was just him.
Bo looks at you like you're stupid. "I drove. Din't ya see the truck?"
"Don't make that face at me, Beauregard. Why are you here?"
He stares at you a little longer again, his resolve cracking further. It's been so long since he's seen you and now he can barely look at you out of shame.
"Sugar, you know i ain't the type to apologise for anythin'. An' i know you deserve someone who does..." but now he looks you in the eyes like a kicked dog, "I haven't be'n treatin' you like I shoulda."
"Bo-"
"No, please lemme say this cuz i wanna get the chance before you chuck me out." he sighs.
"I know I'm no good for you, and i know i dont deserve the time of day from you but i do love you... Sugar, i love you so much it hurts when you ain't around no more. It's like i'm continuously choking on smoke. Now I ain't trying to guilt you into comin' home- Ambrose. "
"Bo please just say it"
"I'M SORRY- I know that don't make up for how ive treated you- or anyone," Bo shifts and mores to grip your hand, "But i wanna be better for you, i wanna show you i love you, and make you feel loved"
You remain silent for a time and he feels his stomach sink slowly to his feat and he deflates, retracting his hand.
"I-I'm gon' head out soon, get outta your hair for good. I just wanted you to know i was sorry."
"No you're not, you're in no state to drive Bo. Stay the night here. We can head back together tomorrow" at that his face lights up. "You can have a shower before you get anywhere near me though," you tease.
He smirks and scampers up the staircase, "Yes, ma'am"
Vincent Sinclair
Vincent made no attempts to find you.
After all, why would he try to bring you back if you were only going to leave again.
He figured he may as well cut his losses and try to get over it.
So he tried.
For weeks.
Then for months.
But he just couldn't.
He saw you in everything he did.
He could swear that he saw you in his paintings or in visitors' cars.
Hell he thought he saw you getting out of Lester's truck right now.
Until he realised you actually were.
But something was different.
~~~~~
Through the glass he could see you hopping out of the cab of the truck, thick winter sweater consuming your figure. He's sure its one of his.
Vincent rushed through the house to the front door, swinging it open on its creaky hinges. You hardly get the chance to look at him before he's wrapping his arms around you tightly.
Lester stands to the side watching.
"Yer lucky i was drivin' west otherwise she might not've made it t'all"
Vincent turns away to sign to Lester but you dont catch it because he's moving his hands so fast.
"She's tryin' to get back to ya but ran outta gas before i found her"
He was shocked. You were trying to get back to him? Why, he was sure you wanted nothing to do with him this entire time.
He signs slower so you can understand,
'Why did you come back?'
You look at him sadly. In truth you felt bad for running away with no notice- leaving Vincent all alone with no explanation.
"I had to." you started, "Because i love you. And it wasn't fair to run away, i know, but i was scared of what you might think, or do"
Though you cant see, Vincent looks puzzled under his mask, you can tell. he signs again.
'Why did you leave- what were you afraid of me for?'
Your eyes water and you look down, arms wrapping around your torso.
"Vincent, I.." the words get stuck in your throat and he moves to cup your cheeks but you grab his hands before he can. You don't think you can say it. Your trembling hands guid his callused palms to your stomach. His eye widens when he feels the protrusion there.
There was no way. He stiffens and stays like that for what feels like forever until your shoulders start to shudder with sobs. Vincent snaps out of it and panics, trying to calm your cries. He moves to embrace you again before frantically signing to you.
'No please darling, don't cry. I'm not upset- i could never be upset with you'
You sniffle, "I'm sorry i left you. It was only meant to be for one day- to go to the clinic but then i found out i was pregnant and then i got scared that you wouldn't want it so i went to a hotel to try to think about what to do but i never manages to figure anything out."
Vincent feels his heart crack a little bit at your distress. He should've been more intuitive- maybe let you know that he'd care about you no matter what.
He gently puts his hands back on your tummy and looks at you. He doesn't even need to sign for you to know what he was trying to say.
'It'll be ok'
Lester Sinclair
Lester was a good guy, you knew that.
To you, he was perfect.
He never even raised his voice at you, and you're sure that if he even scratched you, he'd feel horrible for days.
And if you were honest, you still missed him.
You knew what he was doing was wrong but you still loved him.
Before you can stop yourself you're calling his mobile, waiting for the beeps.
He picks up after a single ring, like always.
~~~~~
"Heh-hey hun!" he tries his best but you can hear he's happy that you called him. "Is everythin' ok up there?"
You had to admit, it was sweet that even now, he cares about things like that.
"Hey, Les..." you don't really know what to say but he's patient, "Sorry im not really sure why i called."
"It's ok, please, i ain't gonna complain" you can almost hear his smile through the phone.
"I'm sorry about what i said-"
he cuts you off, "No, no you're right. What we was doin' was horrible, i know. But i- i wantcha to know that i told Bo that i ain't doing his dirty work anymore."
That surprised you. You know that Bo's a strong, stubborn character and Lester wants nothing than to impress his older brothers. This was big.
"I'm glad, Lester. Just stay outta trouble." You tease him and he giggles.
"I'm tryin' my best out here." an uncomfortably long period of silence takes over the line before he speaks again. "Jonesy misses ya... she just sorta stares at the door at night, expectin' ya to come walk through it."
It sounds sort of sad when he says it like that, he realises. "Not that I'm tryin to trick ya into comin back, im jus' sayin' that maybe you'd like me to bring her up to you some time." It's a ploy so that he can see you again, he knows.
"Oh no, Lester don't go all the way out here to let me play with YOUR dog, thats unfair." you pout through the phone and he laughs again.
"I don't know- i'd get to see you again, so it seems like a good trade, hun."
You dont know what got into you.
"Lester, I miss you."
The line is quiet again for a few seconds before he replies, "Really?"
"I know you've done some horrible stuff, but i still love you, and i dont know, if you're tellin' the truth about leaving that stuff behind, then maybe we can make it work."
He fights back a squeal of delight when he hears that.
"You stay right there, Huneysuckle, I'll be coming to get you as soon as i can." you laugh at his enthusiasm, "I'm getting in the truck, ill see you soon!"
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loveesiren · 6 months
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𝖲𝗇𝗈𝗐𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 - 𝖢.𝖲.
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DISCLAIMER: This is my first Sturniolo fic and I have taken a longggg break from writing so I am very rusty. Sorry in advance that this most likely sucks. I'm also not great with fluff but I thought this was cute so I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think <3
Synopsis: In which Y/n finds the one person who brings joy to her life.
Warnings: Language, broken family (deceased father, alcoholic mother, troubled youth), fluff, cigarettes, very brief mention of drugs
Word Count: 2.4k+
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“I WISH I WASN’T EITHER!” You screamed at your mother before slamming the door and walking out into the cold winter night. You grabbed a cigarette from your coat pocket and placed it between your teeth as you searched for your lighter. You brought it to the tip of your cigarette, flicking it a few times until it finally lit. 
I wish you weren’t my daughter. The words echoed in your head as you made your way down the dimly lit street. Light snow fell from the sky and your neighborhood was silent, the fluffy white powder absorbing all sound. The space around you was liminal. It was nights like these that were perfect for clearing your head. 
Chris’s POV
I heard Y/n yelling and I immediately turned my attention to the window. I slipped my headphones off, completely ignoring Matt and Nick and abandoning the game. I watched as Y/n clicked her lighter to light up her cigarette before walking off down the street. She looked sad. That wasn’t unusual. Especially this time of year.
I’d grown up next to Y/n my whole life. I’d dare to even say she is my friend. Although maybe she doesn’t feel the same about me? She was confusing at times. She was often quiet and kept to herself at school. She was really kind. But I’d also seen her lay someone out before for disrespecting her. She was smart as hell but always managed to end up in detention and for some reason I found myself getting into situations to get detention just so I could hang out with her. 
Obviously, my parents didn’t love that but she was so intriguing. The whole neighborhood knew of her situation. Her mom definitely wasn’t the most pleasant neighbor. Y/n tried to escape that as much as she could but she was still viewed as the “troubled kid” growing up. Now we are 18 and on the verge of graduating. I was beginning to fear that she’d be gone soon. She’d told me before how she couldn’t wait to get out of this town, that there was nothing keeping her here. 
Where would you go? I texted her.
Idk. Maybe the Outer Banks? Learn to surf, search for treasure, live like a Pogue. Lol. She responded.
We didn’t always stay up late texting but when we did our conversations were always interesting. I was always excited to see my phone screen light up with her name. It wasn’t constant, but often enough that Matt and Nick began to notice.
“Who are you texting?” Nick asked one day.
“Yeah, you smile like a goof every time you look at your phone.” Matt added.
“No one,” I responded quickly. 
“That’s a fucking lie. Who is it?” Nick asked again. Matt quickly snatched my phone from my hands and ran away with it.
“Matt, what the fuck!” I yelled as I attempted to chase him. Matt tossed it over my head and Nick caught it at the perfect time for Y/n to text me back. My phone lit up with her name and photo and Nick's jaw dropped.
“Y/n?!”
“Ew, the weird bitch?” Matt added.
“She’s not fucking weird!” I snapped, grabbing my phone back. “Don’t fucking worry about it.” I stormed off to my room and since then they haven’t brought it up. Which was fine by me. They didn’t take the time to get to know her, no one did. She was actually cool as fuck.
I thought about texting her as I watched her walk further down the street. But it just didn’t feel right. I wanted to talk to her in person. 
“Dude! What are you doing?” Matt burst through my door. “You totally fucked me and Nick in the game!”
“I’m done playing for now.” I told him as I went to my closet to grab my coat and snow boots.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”
“Chris!”
I hated keeping things from my brothers but this was something I didn’t feel like discussing with them further. They made it clear they didn’t care about Y/n. The only time they ever made comments is when they noticed her and her mom fighting. They knew she was my friend and that’s all they needed to know. All I cared about was catching up with Y/n and making sure she was okay. It was absolutely freezing outside. 
I left out the backdoor without responding to Matt and made my way down the street.
Y/n’s POV
You let the tears fall freely from your eyes as you dragged your cigarette. One more semester until you graduate and then you could leave this god awful suburb for the rest of your life. After your dad died when you were just thirteen, your mom took all her anger out on you. The last five years had been miserable. You missed your dad. You missed when your mom didn’t drink. You missed when you were a regular family. Now you were just the girl everyone felt sorry for. The troubled one.
You made your way to the small pond near the end of your neighborhood. You were ready to sit and let the stillness of the water distract you until you heard footsteps behind you. Your body tensed, nervous for who would be out here at this hour. You reached in your pocket and grabbed your knife, quickly pulling it and turning it on the person walking your way.
“Whoa, whoa!” The dark figure said, stopping in his tracks with his hands up. “It’s me! Chris!”
“Chris?” You asked softly, lowering your knife. He stepped forward. It was indeed Chris Sturniolo. You took a deep breath at the sight of him. “You scared the fuck out of me!” You scolded.
“I’m sorry…” He said. Unsure if he should walk closer or not.
“It’s fine,” You chuckled. “What are you doing out here?”
“Oh, you know, just enjoying the freezing weather.” He said, smiling and stepping closer to you. 
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” You joke as your teeth chattered. 
“What are you doing out here, Y/n?” Chris asks, his voice more serious now.
“Just needed some air.” You told him. “I like this pond in the summer. There are lots of frogs. I wonder where they all go in the winter…” Your face fell as you pondered the thought.
“Y/n..”
You sniffled as you looked down at the pond. Chris always knew. “What.” You responded. It wasn’t a question.
“You have mascara running down your cheeks.”
Christopher Sturniolo might have been the only person to ever see you cry. He always knew and he was always there. It was a rare occasion but as you thought back on it, he always seemed to appear when you were sad and find a way to cheer you up. Whether it be walking home with you, trying to make you laugh, or even just sitting next to you silently so you wouldn’t be alone.
“She said she wishes I wasn’t her daughter.” You confessed, allowing your head to fall. Chris wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. Normally you hated being touched but you felt so comfortable with him. He wrapped one hand around your lower back and the other made its way to your hair as he towered just above you. 
“I’m sorry, Y/n. You deserve so much more.” He said softly.
You cried more at his words. In what world did you deserve more? In what world did you deserve Chris?
“Y/n, you’re freezing.” 
“Yeah, I know. I’ll call Billy-”
“No. Come to my house.” He cut you off.
You were taken aback for a moment. You hadn’t been to the Sturniolo’s since their 13th birthday party. The only reason you were invited was because your father died. You couldn’t imagine his parents or brothers actually liked you. 
“Chris, I can’t just intrude like that-”
“You’re not intruding. And I don’t want you at Billy’s.” He stated. You’d never heard the sweet Chris Sturniolo sound so serious about something. Billy definitely wasn’t the best guy but he always gave you a place to stay when you needed it. “I don’t trust him.”
Chris had no reason to trust him. Billy was a dick and often fucked people over. But having him as a connect meant a place to stay and drugs to do as long as you put out or helped him out. But to be invited to Chris’s house made you nervous. His parents were sweet. His brothers were protective. Chris bringing you home would be like bringing home a stray raccoon. 
“Chris, I can’t.” You sigh.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not a good look sneaking some degenerate into your home at midnight,”
“I will walk you through the front door proudly,” He says. “Besides, my parents are asleep and my brothers are too invested in their game. Just come over for a bit to warm up? We can listen to music in my room.”
You thought about it for a moment.
“If you hate it, you live right across the street,” He smiled hopefully at you, 
You couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Fine.” You say. “But just for a little bit! Once my mom is asleep I’m going home.”
“Deal.” Chris agreed, throwing his arm over your shoulder and guiding you back towards the street.
The two of you walked back to his house with minimal conversation. 
“Wanna catch snowflakes?” Chris asked before sticking his tongue out and letting the snow fall on it.
You giggled at him but followed his lead. The crisp flakes on your tongue felt nice. You were having fun jumping around in the snow with Chris. You even stopped at the park to make stupid snow angels and throw snowballs at each other. Before you knew it, the snow was getting heavier, almost blizzarding. 
“C’mon!” Chris yelled, grabbing your hand and running towards his house. 
You made it to his porch and he opened the door slowly. The kitchen was mostly dark aside from the microwave light being on and the light that shined underneath Nick’s door. You could hear him still awake, obviously yelling at a video game he was playing. 
Chris put a finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet as you both slipped out of your boots. He grabbed your hand and you both tiptoed through the dimly lit house and up to his room. You made your way down the hall and followed Chris into his bedroom. 
“Make yourself at home,” He said with a smile. He went to his computer and logged into his Spotify. You scanned his room, noticing all the posters of his favorite artists on his walls. You could tell he was passionate about music. 
“Who’s your favorite?” You ask. He looks at you and you gestured to all the posters.
“Skies, for sure!” He says. “What about you?”
You unzip your coat to reveal the shirt you got at Grey Day last year. “$uicideboy$”
Chris smiles at you. “I’ve never really listened to them. What’s a good song?”
“A Death In The Ocean Would Be Beautiful,” You say as you slip off your coat and sit on his bed. 
Chris turns on his galaxy projector so that wave-like colors flow across his ceiling before he presses play and joins you on his bed. You both lay back and listen intently as you watch the lights. 
“They’re kind of depressing…” Chris admits after the song is over. 
You chuckle slightly. “Yeah, they can be. But they can be helpful. They get it, you know? What I’m going through.”
Chris turns on his side and you mirror his movements as if you were his natural reflection. “I hate hearing it every night.” He admits.
Your body curls into itself, you pull your sleeves further over your hands. “I’m sorry…”
“No, not like that,” He says, propping himself up on one arm and placing his other on your shoulder, gently tangling his fingers through the ends of your hair. “I just hate hearing you guys fight and seeing you walk out in the cold every night. You don’t deserve that.”
“Trust me, Chris. I’m no saint.” You say with a sad laugh. 
“Don’t have to be a saint to deserve basic respect, especially from your own family.” 
“I only have to deal with it for a few more months. When I graduate, I’m out of here.” You smiled at the thought. 
“You know…I’m really going to miss you…” Chris says softly. 
You look up to see his eyes already on you. You wanted to tell him you’d miss him too. You wanted to tell him to come with you, although you knew he’d never leave his brothers. You wanted to tell him he was the only good thing in your life and every time you were near him you felt happy and warm and like everything was going to be okay for once in your miserable fucking life. But with every single thought your brain contained about Chris Sturniolo, your mouth could only mutter three little words. 
“I love you…”
Chris’s lips parted slightly with shock as his eyes quickly scanned your features.
“Fuck! I’m sor-”
You were quickly cut off when he pressed his lips to yours. You were taken aback for a moment but quickly leaned in to deepen the kiss. He brought his hand up to cup your jaw and your fingers found their way to his hair. His lips were soft and sweet and you felt that fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 
He pulled away slightly and you frowned at the loss of contact. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long fucking time…” He said, his voice almost a whisper. 
“I-I didn’t know you liked me…” You said. “Why?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” You’re smart, you’re sweet, you know what you want, and pretty as hell.” He smiled. “Not to mention you’re like the strongest person I know. You deserve so much better than the cards you’ve been dealt.”
You felt tears welling in your eyes again but you couldn’t help but smile. You don’t know what you did to deserve the pretty boy who had his arms wrapped around you, but you hoped you never had to let him go. 
“Can I stay?” You asked shyly.
Chris smiled and pulled his comforter over both of you. “Please,” He said. 
You snuggled into him, resting your head on his chest while he played with your hair. 
“And Y/n?” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead.
“Mmm?”
“I love you, too.”
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Tagging a few mutuals! Let me know if you want to be added/removed from tag list :)
Tags: @strniohoeee @flowerxbunnie @christinarowie332 @kenzieiskoolaid @bluesturniolo333 @chrattnick @recklesssturniolo @soursturniolo @byechristopher @justangelheree @sturnimovies
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vxiphoid · 10 months
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MISTY COMPREHENSION
❨ summary ❩ genshin › second chance. (ft. cyno)
tags ✧ angst/comfort to fluff, modern au, crying, guilt, mentions of an argument, overthinking, a bit of a soft cyno, second chance trope, nb reader, happy ending dw!!
amanuensis’ message ⊹ KICKING, SCREAMING, CRYING, THIS WAS SO HARD TO WRITE. i was really thinking about this song actually. i listened to it over and over, it gave me second chance vibes and i have no idea why… i didn’t want it to be full angst though. im still a little rusty with my writing and just barely grasping the strings but i hope this is enjoyable😋
⌜ 1k ⌟
♫ karma - sarah kinsley
genshin masterlist
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CYNO
ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋᴇᴇᴘꜱ ��ᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴋᴀʀᴍᴀ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴ, ᴍʏ ɪɴᴛᴜɪᴛɪᴏɴ ꜱᴀʏꜱ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.
— its been about three months since you and cyno’s departure. the argument was loud, reckless, and honestly? both of you got some hurtful words in. yet when he got a text from you, asking for a bit of his time to accompany you to the newly opening cafe for brunch, who is he to refuse? he owes you that much and so much more after what he’s put you through.
what could he say? what was even is there to say? the tension was so thick you could slice it with a butterknife, tension so thick he could drown in it if he really tried. his mind ran wild, he couldn’t concentrate on anything but you. you sat on the other side of the private booth, your knee pressing just barely against his under the table. yet you sat calm, composed, enjoying the slice of cake you ordered, none the wiser to the swirling emotions webbing themselves on the insides of his head. no words were exchanged for the eight minutes you’ve sat with him yet you couldn’t have looked more relaxed meanwhile cyno is on the edge of his seat.
you fork some of your cake, gathering a dollop of frosting on the sweetened sponge before pointing your fork at him. he wouldn’t blame you if it was accusatory. “weren’t you busy?” you asked, waving your utensil expectantly.
“free for you.” cyno eyed it, gingerly taking the portion into his mouth. it was perfect, the rich sweetness dripping down his tongue to taste it all the way down to the core of his stomach. something flavory, something you would choose. leaning over the table, you swipe frosting from the corner of his lip, licking your thumb clean afterwards. “can’t say the same for others.” he says matter of factly.
your eyes widened a fraction at his response yet relaxed as quick as it came. your palm held your cheek as you let out an approving hum, the smallest of smiles gracing your lips. “you always did know what to say.” you say softly, your gaze falling to his lips. his throat felt dry, like sandpaper was scraping across it.
he swallows hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. “i know you well.”
with that your eyes darted back to your dessert, leaving the poor man to breath correctly again. your actions spoke that you were fine, the silence however, was anything but. this was far too familiar territory for cyno and it made his skin crawl in discomfort. not that he could blame you, it was him that caused the parting. yet somehow, despite everything you still planned this, despite everything he said. you wanted to at least attempt to fix things, that gave him some dim flame of hope. he wanted to be the first to say something, to atone.
“i’m sorr—“
you meet eyes. your expression softening and he can see the hurt in your eyes but it quickly dissipates, replaced with an emotionless facade. “you start first.” you insist, taking another bite of cake.
“right.” he murmurs, clearing his throat before speaking again, his tone firm but not unkind. “i’m sorry. for everything i’ve said because you surely didn’t deserve any of it. i was angry after i came back to you, and still took it out on you by screaming at you when you were only trying to help me. i promise you, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
the words he said to you were a blur from months but they still haunt him. they must’ve been horrible because the expression that sunk your being had his body run cold, like an ice cube dropped into steaming hot coco. and as the ice cube chipped and shattered so did his heart. work kept pulling and pulling and pulling him away from you until the last fatal string had snapped. the realization and guilt didn’t set in until you slammed the door. cyno remembers waiting by the front door, silently begging you to walk back in. praying that you didn’t leave him for good. he remembers the pain that flashed across your face and how you didn’t return to him. even after weeks passed without seeing you, he remembers how it tore him apart. how it drove him insane, left him restless and unable to breathe. and most importantly, how it nearly ripped you in two—
“cy,” you place a reassuring hand over his that was absentmindedly clenching over the table, snapping out of his revere. “its okay.” you continue, brushing away the stray tears that were yet to spill over his cheeks. “i understand. i was angry and confused too, we both were. i understand.”
“but i’m sorry.” he mutters all too desperately, something that your heart wasn’t used to seeing. “i don’t think i’ll ever be able to forgive myself for what i did to you.”
you could feel the pull of your eyebrows as you inhaled shakily, tears threatening your very being. you wanted to be strong, hoping that meant no tears that could make cyno doubt your honesty, not that he would. you’ve both spent so much time building and nurturing this relationship for it to come crumbling down like this. but you also knew you were also the one responsible, you were also the one who pushed cyno away; you didn’t know what he was going through or why he lashed out at you. and it broke your heart knowing that he thought that you blamed him. that you hated him for feeling. you’ve spent so much time and you sure as hell weren’t going to let it wither like this.
you stood, rounding the table to settle down on his side of the booth. your eyes never left his as you take his hand and intertwined your fingers. “and that’s completely valid. but i forgive you, and i’ll be there to help you forgive yourself if that’s what you really want. no more hiding shit. promise.” you say softly, your voice wavering in the middle. your eyes are full of emotion yet there was no judgement, no anger, nothing negative. just the same person who loved him through and through. enough to make his vision blur from tears, enough to make his chest ache. the amount of love you have for him makes him choke, his throat constricting almost painfully.
you wipe the tears from his eyes with the pad of your thumb before wrapping your arms around him yet he still beats you with the tightness of his embrace. his tears soiled your shoulder but that was the least of your worries as you bury your face in his snowy hair. oh, who knew. the man who is known for his stern attitude and dangerous gaze, sobbing so heavily against you.
a watery smile wobbles its way onto your face, your hand caressing the back of his head. “sorrows, sorrows, prayers.” you mope dramatically earning a jab in the stomach from cyno.
“shut up.” he says weakly but in the corner of your eye showed you a softened grin.
the two of you stayed like that, unmoving; a comforting touch to soothe the turmoil that plagued the both of you. it took some time for your own tears to subside, but when you finally did you leaned your forehead against cyno’s and closed your eyes. it was silent between the two of you, save for the occasional sniffle here and there.
“can i ask you something?” you hum in response to his question, “if i were to make a joke right now, how would you react?”
a small chuckle left your lips, “i would leave.”
“how could you say that? :(”
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sicjimin · 1 year
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— Jiminie Face Off —
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a.n : hii ! my first writing after so long .. tbh i feel so rusty, so i apologize if this story isn't any good and just meh. i lost touch to my writing hejsjdjks anyway you all must have know already that this based on jimin's last live. ( i hope he's feeling well already :(( ) anyway .. enjoy !
"Do we still have schedule after this?", Jimin asks as soon as he finished changing his clothes—throwing himself to the couch, closing his eyes, as his hand weakly move to remove his eyeshadow and eyeliner , at the same time still trying to catch his breath and calmed down the adrenaline that's rushing in his body after the recording. His head pounds rhytmically to his heartbeat.
"No .. we're done for today", The manager cleared it, gaining a hum from the artist. "Are you okay, Jimin-ssi?"
"Mhm", Jimin slowly pushed himself up, with a low groan, as his muscles starts to ache. He really pushed himself hard the last few days. Good thing today is the last schedule of his promotions. "Can we go home now?", he asked, blinking rapidly to refocused his sight.
Why is the room spinning a little?
"Yes yes, we can"
The manager stood up from his seat on the couch next to Jimin, holding out a hand for Jimin to take. It takes him few seconds before he finally takes it, standing up on his own two feet. The world was spinning again. He squeezed his eyes shut once more, leaning his forehead as he gently massaged it—can't help a low whimper escapes his mouth.
“Jimin-ssi .. what's wrong?”, the manager asked, concerned. Jimin shakes his head, pressing his lips together.
“No no .. it's fine, just stood up too fast“, he mumbled, not looking at the other man. The manager nods in understanding and guides them to the parking lot of the building.
Jimin leaned on his seat when the security opened the car door for him, immediately closing his eyes yet again—feeling exhaustion hits on him in a full blast. His body starting to hurts—as he plans to catch a good few minutes nap until he arrived to his apartment. It's an hour and half drive anyway, that's good enough to sleep.
He could feel a small headache starting to build at the back of his skull. He sighs deeply, bringing his hand to massage around his temple, feeling the car starts moving. He makes a mental note to take medicine as soon as he arrived—preventing it to become a full blown migraine that he should have seen it coming after working himself to exhaustion.
He has been on it for a month full, without a break if he thinks about it. Completing the album, prerecording then and there, photoshoots, etc etc. Truthfully speaking, it wasn't that hard. Just in some days like this, when everything is almost over, it dawned on him—like his body finally let it to get loose. And he knows he gonna fall sick sooner or later. It always been like that for him.
The manager didn't say much on their drive. It doesn't surprise Jimin in anyway. They were used to such silences between each other—the driver was just too focused on driving to really talk. Sometimes the silence will stretch, sometimes they'd be having some quiet conversations but mostly, it's just a silent ride. Jimin usually can't stand it—most of days he attempt to make few conversation, either it's about his schedule, or asking about his manager's children. Even it didn't last long, they still have talked. Anything. But now he's grateful at his manager silent demeanor. He's just exhausted, mentally and physically drained. He's not sure if he can let out anything other than groan or a whine.
Jimin had no idea where are they right now and how long it have been, when the familiar nausea creeps onto his stomach. He groans quietly, as his hands moves from his head to clutch at his stomach—his breathing getting shallow as he gulps the bile that starts rising in his throat. He tries to breathe evenly and slowly through his mouth—remembering his doctor instructions, while cursing himself to overestimated his motion sickness—hoping it'll keep it away. He didn't want to accept defeat and vomit right now. That would just be embarrassing.
"Hyung", He croaked out after taking 5 consecutive deep breaths, but get a futile results as saliva keeps filling his mouth. Making his tongue thicker and bland. It's uncomfortable.
He squints his eyes, as the light from the outside becomes too bright for him. "Yes? Do you need anything?", the manager said, turning around to look at him. Jimin blinked his eyes, "Do you have mint candy?", He tried to hide a grimace when another wave hit his guts, forcing him to bite his lower lip to keep his lunch in bay.
His manager—has been working too long for him— frowned. Knowing that the question usually meant nothing good. "Are you feeling sick?", he inquired, voice laced with worry as he rummages over his bag, and hands the artist few candies.
Jimin quickly plops one to his mouth, and taking a deep breath. Letting the fresh minty and sweet flavor filling his mouth to battle against the bland one. There was no point to lie, since the manager knew him that well anyway. "Just a bit", he muttered under his breath. "It's fine"
"Want water?", Jimin shook his head, the thought of drinking making his stomach swirls and bloated. "I will just sleep, wake me up if we're arrived", he whispered, and he heard the older sigh heavily. "Okay"
It didn't take long for him to fall asleep—but also didn't take long to stir awake as nausea looming again. Harder this time. He purses his lips, tried his best to sit up—but the motion made his head spin even more. He took a deep breath and try to ignore the painful throbbing behind his eyes as his heart started pounding erratically against his chest. He felt like he's going to throw up.
Jimin squeezed his eyes again as he pressed his fist against his lips. Trying his hardest to stay calm and collected, taking a few controlled deep breath. But the car isn't stopping yet and with his half awake state—his body reacts faster than his brain. Before he could hold it, a burp that he wants to let out, turns wetter than expected, followed by something burning his throat. He can feel the hot, sour liquid traveling up.
Jimin gasps, quickly tighten his hand around his mouth, as he sits up straight. A wave of nausea hit him when he tries to swallow the bitter taste. He sucked a deep breath.
It feels like he's locked in.
He is dizzy, nauseous, and his stomach clenching painfully. "Hyung?" His words came out muffled due to the grip around his mouth. His manager turned towards him, startled when he sees the younger. He didn't need anymore words, quickly rummaging the dashboard and fetch a plastic bag that they keep for time like this. He quietly swats it open and hands it to Jimin. Jimin shakily takes it, holding it against his mouth, trying his best to hold himself as his vision is already blurry from all the movement of the car.
"Do you want us to pull aside?", The latter speaks carefully. He didn't get an answer—but a quiet moan followed with a burp, and sounds of puke comes to the bag. He winces, then instructing the driver to pull aside as he could hear a new gag from the younger.
A tear ran down his face—"Jimin-ah"
Jimin feels awful. His stomach aches badly as the sickness continues climbing higher. He feels like throwing up over and over and sobs. He hates being sick—feeling the pain in his muscles and back from the long hours he put in adding to the cramps, as his stomach contracts again, sending more of his lunch up to the bag. Putting more weight of everything inside to the mix.
It's awful.
"Here", his manager says, handing a bottle of water which Jimin gratefully takes, taking a small hesitant sip as he could feel his stomach still upset on him actually. He barely aware the weight of the bag has gone from him when the manager quietly takes it. His head is too fuzzy to process anything. "Feel better?", the older asks again, taking the bottle as Jimin hands it to him, slumping over the seat.
He didn't even realized the car has stopped. He weakly lift his head, still hesitant to let go the bag as his manager open the door, letting the fresh air come rushing in. "You want to come out?"
Jimin is not sure if he can stand up right now, so he settles facing outside with still holding the bag tightly, as a new wave of vomit comes rushing up his throat. He coughed and gagged a couple of times before his inside calmed down.
"Yeah". Jimin murmurs, closing his eyes. "Thank you hyung". He feels the manager patting his back softly, before he ushered the younger in and hears his door close again.
When Jimin opened his eyes for the second time, the car has stopped. "Jimin-ah, we're arrived", the older informs, and Jimin hums, rubbing his eyes and yawns as the exhaustion hit him again. "Do you need my help?"
Jimin looks up at his manager with a small smile on his face, "No, thanks hyung. I got it. Go home. Have a good night", he said with a little tired voice.
"Alright", the manager replies with a small nod. "Call if you need anything"
Jimin gave him a small nod before pushing himself off the seat. "Thank you," he says, bowing a little, before the car drive off. He sighs, dragging his body up to his unit, still feeling dizzy as his eyes are a little clouded from sleep. He reaches his floor and enters the room, immediately collapsing on the couch. He falls into it, not bothering to take off his shoes, jacket, or even cleaning up before lying down. Closing his eyes.
He's not sleepy, but he's just too tired and worn out to care about anything. And the pain behind his head and the nausea hasn't gone too. Not even slightly.
He lays down like that for awhile, starting to feel his muscles relaxing, despite there's still cramps then and there. He looked at the clock, it's already 9—and he hasn't eat dinner. He's tempted to skip it and just go to his room to sleep. But there's this lingering hunger in him, as he already let out all of his lunch and maybe even breakfast earlier in the car. He needs to eat something. He huffs, can't help a loud whine that escapes his lips, as he pushes himself to clean up and find something to eat.
He finishes the food in no time, ditching the dishes for him to clean up in the morning, and retreats to his room. Throwing himself up to the bed with ease. He closes his eyes, and lets out a slow heavy breath.
There's only ramyeon. And some egg, that's enough as a complimentary. It wasn't a lot, but its food nonetheless. As he starts eating, he notices that his appetite hasn't gotten any better—even though he's hungry and doesn't have an option but to eat. But he can't really focus. His head feels heavy and he has never felt more tired.
He needs to sleep. No. He wants to sleep.
He's tired. Just...really tired. He feels his whole body slowly drifting off. Maybe sleep will come soon. His hand reaching his forehead, as he rubs at his temples. His entire body is sore and he can feel all the pains from the day weighing upon him. He curls himself small, tucking the blanket up high under his chin as he rests on his side and drifts to dreamland, feeling warmth seeping through his body.
***
Jimin know he's sick and fucked right then when he stirs awake in the middle of the night—if the darkness of his room is a right indicator—feeling a prickle burn all over his body, but his hands and feets are freezing cold as he curls it further up. He can barely breathe with his nose clogged up. His throat itch but coughing making him nauseous. His muscles aches especially around his neck areas, and his stomach .. the worst of it all—churns painfully. It feels like his guts lodged up around his diaphragm, in his middle, but also filling around it with gas that makes him feel bloated. Jimin whimpered softly.
He huffs when he suddenly feels like he'll vomit anytime soon, feeling a tightness in his chest and the knot tightening, as he feels his stomach twist and turn in protest. He coughs harshly once, trashing his arm to cover his mouth and nose. His dinner was making a jump to the back of his throat.
It feels like he's in the car all over again. Like someone shaking his bed, swaying it left and right, and spins it as nausea batted at him wave by wave. He keeps on rubbing and control his breathing—the thought of waking up and search for something, medicines, or even just candy ; slips through his mind, but he's too dizzy and weak to actualized it— hoping that this simple act could subside the waves of nausea that crash inside him.
He tries to turn to his back, but finds the sudden movement is causing more discomfort and make the headache worse. With a gasp and a low groan, he tries to relax against his pillows. It's awful.
He shifts again, while trying his best to keeping his stomach in bay. He sneaks his cold ice hands under his shirts, and bites the urge to curse as he feels it gurgle beneath his palm. With a wince, he moves his palms in circle motion, careful to not give too much pressure as he's currently trying not to throw up all over his own sheets.
He's tired. Tired enough to finally give in to sleep and allow himself to drift off to unconsciousness for a little while.
And it does. It takes time but it does.
After few harsh wave that sending him gagging all over his palm—threatening ramyeon he just ate to come up. Slowly but surely, the nausea disappears. He stops shifting, letting his hand rest on his stomach—which still feels heavy and tight, but now less painful.
***
The second time he stirs awake, Jimin assumed he already got enough sleep—if again, the faint sounds of bird and a dimness in his room is anything to go by. But he didn't get to ponder over what time is it or even think where his phone is like he usually did if he wake up, as he already got his mouth full and his hand gripping tightly around it. Brain screaming at him to run run and run, as he tries to untangles himself from the blanket, almost hitting the floor in the process as his dizziness hasn't easing up and standing up too fast is not helping his case.
He barely register anything when he throws himself over the toilet, and hear a splash of mouthful of sick hitting the bowl. He blinks. Taking a deep breath before curled over the toilet with gag, trickles of his dinner flowing freely from his mouth. He shuddered as it burns with the taste of spice. But he didn't get to whine when he burps, then the floodgates opening as a thick stream of undigested noodles plops into the toilet.
Jimin grimaces, squeezing his eyes as tears prickling over it with the horrible sensation filling all his senses. He pants, spitting the thick saliva that dangles over his lower lips, before caught on a deep belch, and a bigger stream coming up and splattering all over the rim of the bowl. He pulls his hand away, coughing hard afterwards and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, wiping away the tears running down his cheeks, the stench of sickness wafting through the bathroom.
He groans, shifting on his heels to get more comfortable as he knows this gonna be a long one. He drag himself to sit straighter before his breath hitched with a sour burp, that continued with deep, strong heaves—pushing all his dinner to come out, mouthful after mouthful, until his stomach was painfully empty and only discolored liquid gurgled up his throat.
Sighing, he drags himself up, ignoring the way his muscles burn and complaint with each movement he makes. He takes two steps towards the sink, turning on the tap before swirling some water into his bitter taste mouth, and throwing it away. He turns off the faucet and looks at himself in the mirror. His face still wet with sweat and red from the fever that still burning on his skin. His hair is sticking to his forehead and his eyelids. His whole person looks terrible as he stares back at his reflection.
By the time he's done, he barely have any energy to flush the mess and clean up himself as he feels weak. He sniffles.
Everything hurts.
With the last remaining energy he had, he curled himself back into the blanket—know well that his fever spikes up yet another notch. He shuts his eyes, and lets himself fall back to sleep.
***
Jimin grunts loudly, as there's a loud ringing—that he knows coming from his phone— that wokes him up. His room is no longer dim, but full of brightness as sunrays seeping through the curtain. He squints his eyes, the bright light piercing them as he tries his best to open them wider. There's an ache in his head too, probably caused by how his body kept tossing and turning throughout his sleep. He groans again, rolling to his side. His body aches, protesting as he tries to move. He pats his bed blindly, wanting to navigate where his phone is.
The ringing doesn't stop and he opens his mouth as his voice comes out hoarse and scratchy, sounding as rough as the sand in an hourglass after being thrown against a stone and repeatedly hit. "What."
"Oh my god, you're finally awake!" Hoseok's cheerful voice filters through the speaker.
"Mhm", Jimin hums, his brain coming empty with the response.
"Let's go out for lunch! Hyung will pay. There's this restaurant that hyung want to try—", Jimin tunes out as his hyung loud voice continues on, talking about food.
His eyes slowly adjust to the light that streams in through his curtains. "Hyung .. i can't", Jimin mumbles weakly when Hoseok stops on the other side.
"Why? Do you have any promotions left?"
" 'm sick", Jimin replies simply, wincing as his voice cracks from dehydration.
"What?!"
All Jimin remembers were Hoseok's loud gasps, he hang up the phone, and he fall asleep again.
He awakes to a banging sound of his apartment door along with the buzzing of his phone. Jimin's eyes flicker open, adjusting themselves to the bright light streaming in. He blinks rapidly, trying to adjust to the sunlight. His vision is blurry. He blinks again.
Everything is fuzzy. Too blurry. But there's someone that waiting at the door, and he should open it to make the banging stop.
He tries to push himself to sitting position, but his body immediately gives up on him; collapsing on the bed as everything swirls around his mind. He groaned, closing his eyes as he tries to focus his gaze somewhere else. It took him another few minutes before he could stand on his wobbly feet, and slowly tracing the walls to keep himself steady as he walks to the door.
"Hobi hyung?", Jimin croaked, his throat scratchy and dry and raw. He cleared it roughly, making it hurt.
"Why—", he's interrupted by a familiar shriek. And the next thing he knows, there are arms around him, and then palms all over his flushed cheeks and forehead as the older fusses over him. "Oh my .. Jiminie .. you're really sick", Hoseok mumbles, worry laced with panic in every words. He holds him close, his palms still pressed onto Jimin's cheeks as Jimin leans against him, and closes his eyes again. It felt warm. It's safe. And he's warm. "I know"
Hoseok shrieks, chattering as he guides him and the younger inside, "How long have you been sick? Have you eat anything? Why don't you call hyung?"
Jimin gulps at the concern. He presses his fingers faintly to his lips as liquid creeping up—"Hyung", Jimin mumbles, tugging the older sleeves to slow down his pace as he halts on his. Hoseok stops his rants about what he's going to make and to do to take care of the younger. "Yeah?"
"Bathroom", Jimin whispers. Feeling nausea licking the back of his throat, and he's pretty sure its bile.
A look of understanding flashes across Hoseok's face, "I'll take you." He grabs Jimin's arm, gently leading him towards the bathroom—and rub his back along with massaging the younger tense nape as he jerks out tons of water the moment they stepped into the bathroom. When he's finished, Jimin slump against Hoseok's chest, breathing heavily as he's still shaken up from the previous bout of nausea. "Here," the older says, placing the small bottle of water on his chest, "Drink up."
Jimin scrunched his face, "I will throw it out again"
Hoseok nudges the bottle toward him, "Take a small sips, Jiminie, slowly. You're dehydrated", he coaxed quietly, rubbing the younger's shoulder. "And let's rest on the couch? Or do you want to go to your room? I will make something for you to eat. I bring medicine too"
Jimin huffs, nodding along. His brain is too fuzzy to argue or make any comment. He just know the feeling of relief that flood his body—that his ex-roommate is here. And he's not alone.
"Hyung ..", Jimin calls out as he curls on the couch, listening to the clattering of pan and plates from the kitchen. "Hm?", Hoseok hums a bit loud. "Are you okay, Jimin-ah?"
"Mhm .. hyung .. you're staying, right?"
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autumnalsteahouse · 1 year
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I just want to say thank you so so so much to my beta @bestlifesofar for literally reading out loud and taking my abrupt interrupts so well. You’ve helped me make this fic the best version it could be,, i love u so much .. ps- my goal was to get this fic out while it’s still winter… the spring equinox is on the 21st so :) I met my goal. I hope you guys enjoy my first fic since last year !!
pairing: Jack Frost!Gojo Satoru x gn!reader
word count: 3.8k+
trope: magical wintery friends to lovers
cw: reader has a scar, hurt/comfort, gojo is 200 years older than you <3 (he literally IS Jack Frost), extreme tension, gojo saves you from death :) , vague backstory, slight angst ++ happy ending, lowkey kinda cheesy … my writing is a bit rusty
• • • <3
It’s the same reaction every time— why bother with an attempt at a real explanation? How do you stomach it every time? The same question over and over and over again?
It’s a miracle you’re still alive. No one was there to witness what happened and in all honesty, it would have been more bearable if the only gash was in a place your winter coat could hide.
Instead, a good slice across the cupid's bow scaling down the bottom of your lip to the outside of your chin was the accessory of your survival from the incident all those years ago; slightly faded but ever so visible, seeing as it had misshapen your lips– and he never lets you forget that.
Every year when the temperature drops and the sun seems like it's just out for a peak before going back to sleep, it's become second nature to be on your toes. He could be around any and every corner.
With winter being the way it was, you're questioning why you hadn’t worn a scarf out— granted the trip to the bakery just down the street wasn't a long one, but at the same time, it’s a scarf. A quick wrap around might’ve possibly saved you from the death grip of the cradling position you’d put your upper body into.
Once inside the quaint shop, the warmth hugged your body, but not your mind. The only thought after stepping in was how it was only going to feel colder once you leave the shop, especially since you’ll be carrying things; arms unguarded and at your side.
Maybe you should just tell your friends to meet you here instead of the apartment— a fleeting thought— as you go up to the memorized array of pastries behind the curved glass.
Savory and sweet, you decided. It was only a few friends but unfortunately, indecisiveness is a common denominator between the bunch.
˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚
It took only three minutes before you were confronted with the fact that you had to go outside again. It took only five seconds before the frigid winter air rendered you defenseless.
Your sweater did absolutely nothing… and you were not above ridiculously speed-walking back;
Determination driven by desperation for warmth was what got the pace going.
But only about a quarter of the way in, there was an all too familiar whooshing sound– as if someone had skated by you that began to deter your motivation.
“Did you miss me?” you heard his smirk before you could see it, even before you could feel the chill of his presence.
A sigh escaped your body, out of a twisted type of relief or maybe it was a reaction to the man who was always colder than cold– after all this time— you're not sure which , before turning around and glancing upwards to meet his crooked smile pausing at his eyes. Those irises… the same ones that you could only describe as the frozen lake that he saved you from. Long and delicate snow white lashes bat from the bottom of his brow to kiss his bottom lashes.
“Satoru.”
His name was spoken like a hushed hope with wide eyes and an deceivingly innocent tilt of the head.
Before a vocal response could leave his perfectly blushed lips, that sinful smirk eased into a relaxed smile. His pale hand reached out to cup your jaw while the freezing swipe of his thumb lightly traced your scar, capturing your doe-like gaze with his for what felt like a little too long to be appropriate before nipping your nose between his thumb and pointer.
Such a childish act seemed to snap whatever transe the man had put you in, an unwarranted chill passed through you and the feeling of freeze burning your nose and cheeks became a bit too much to be playful.
“I'm not a teenager anymore, frost. Please don’t treat me like one.” you muttered, realizing you’d already wasted too much time on him and going around him, back on route.
Two can play that game.
“Oh, don't be like that.” he groaned, floating over to catch up before you heard the soles of his shoes hit the ground.
“I will not be speaking to you right now. We are in public.”
“You aren’t the only one who can see me right now, y’know.” he smirked, nodding his head across the street to the two bundled boys waiting by a parked car, ice skates in hand, and jaws on the floor.
“Gojo… show them something before they lose their minds.” you groaned, pace slightly slower than you’d like it to be. You didn't even need to turn your head to confirm he heard you. He was going to do it anyways— he loves kids. Always has.
The excited shrilled giggles that came from the boy’s direction tempted you, you cast a discreet glance.
A flurry of snow was wisping around the two who now had their tongues extended, catching the icy white flakes before they drifted down to the ground.
A smile threatened to break your cold facade; the joy of satoru’s magic always had that effect on anyone who was lucky enough to see it.
˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚
He was surprisingly silent the rest of the way, even when the two of you got to the door of your place.
This was unusual– granted, the way things were left off last year were not ideal. His usual wit was nowhere to be seen.
Stepping into your place, you nearly moaned. The warmth encased you in such a way that you were tempted to toss the baked goods onto the counter, jump onto your couch, and bury yourself in the soft and coziness of your cushions. But you didn't.
You were being watched.
Instead, you set your pastries down and reached for dishes to display, still not daring to throw the man so much as a glance. He was still in the doorway, his usual chill hadn’t followed you to the kitchen yet.
Grabbing the kettle, filling it, and sparking up a flame on the stove, you get two mugs out.
30 minutes, your friends will be here in 30 minutes– that's enough time for tea.
“Your chai? Or did you want something different this time?”
The peak over your shoulder only confirmed that he hadn’t moved at all. He wasn't going to leave the shelter of the door frame, not without a little prompting.
“Green, actually. If you have any.”
A stillness filled the room and suddenly your heart took a violently steep drop.
Green was for serious things, things that required something strong and steady with a lighter tone to lift up any bad news that could have left you feeling heavy.
“And if I don't?” you falsy taunt, knowing you had a full canister waiting for moments like this.
The desire to hear his voice– even if it was for just a few more sentences– outweighed the dread of finally confronting this.
His next response came from right behind you, “Then the chai will work just fine.”
An out, he was giving you a choice to put it behind you, like it had never happened.
It's easy to feel the way he watches you reach for the recognizable tin and bring it back to the counter.
“Go to the couch, I'll only be two more minutes.” you say with a calm that could only be drawn out in times of pure panic.
It wasn't an exaggeration. You only took two minutes to get everything prepared before you carefully walked over to your couch and sat beside the man people have come to nickname “jack frost”.
“The only green tea I have is Jasmine… I hope that’s fine,” you murmured as you put the scalding mug on the coffee table in front of him.
He makes no move to pick it up, his eyes are still trained on you. Watching as you take a sip of the warm liquid, his gaze drifting to your throat as you swallow.
“Satoru…”
His eyes are now glued to where your pulsebeats.
Seeing as your first attempt to grab his attention failed, you try to casually rub the back of your neck in hopes to lure him out of his trance.
That seemed to do the trick, his crystal blues drift over your lips, before snapping back up to your eyes.
“Yes?” he smoothed over, as if the cautious energy he’d been exuding wasn't there– but it had already seeped into your bones, a weighted puddle of anxiety pooled at the bottom of your stomach.
The collected expression he was attempting to portray wasn't meeting his eyes.
“Stop acting like this and talk to me. I can’t— I won’t sit here and act like everything is okay, every time I close my eyes, I’m reliving the last few seconds before you disappeared on me. You may be okay with erasing what happened but I’m not. Gojo, either say something or leave. ”
You said it steadily, as if you ever had control of the situation. But as soon as you saw his eyes shift to a dark look of muddled despair, you felt your newfound backbone falter.
He readjusted his jaw, jutting it out to the side as his tongue goes to press against the inside of his molars before clamping his teeth together, brows furrowing with a heavy exhale, “do you know how difficult this is? To look at your face and not see that horrified look that you gave me when I let myself believe it was okay to kiss you last year?”
“Gojo wait—“
“You've brought me so much joy in this cursed life– and what did I do? Huh?”
he didn't even give you a chance to speak before spiraling further.
“I ruin it all by being selfish. That's what I was and that is all I will ever be. I didn't know how to properly handle my feelings for you so I take. I take and take and take. everything that you are– your kindness, your beauty, your loyalty, and your patience– and I assumed it was mine for the taking because I love you and I’ve protected you ever since the incident.”
Blank. Overwhelmed with feelings and racing thoughts, you’re rendered speechless. Gojo takes your slack jaw as a nonsensical cue to continue, “And the most sickening part? I wouldn't change the fact that I did it. I can’t look at your lips and not know what they feel like against mine anymore. How your scar feels against my tongue. Your pounding heart against my chest. The gasp you made… I still hear it. It's on a tempting loop whenever you're near.”
The pounding in your ears was no doubt the sped up rhythmic beat of your heart. Your eyes felt too big for their sockets, widening with the imagery he’s set.
Gojo was desperately seeking anything that would give him any sort of tell into what you were thinking… What were you thinking?
His irises were jotting back and forth and all you could focus on was how whiny he sounded. The desperation was like smoke clouding all judgment.
“what are you saying?” was the only thing that your brain and your mouth synced up with before the dam broke. “… that because you kissed me without context and I was rightfully at a loss for words— that gave you the right to disappear on me?… YOU disappeared on ME.”
Your voice never went above a shout, but you felt so lightheaded looking at the man next to you; you picked up your tea to take a sip.
“I thought I made a mistake,” he whispered.
It took you a moment to put down the mug and turning towards him, you were met with his pale profile.
“I was scared. I hadn't felt that uncertain since I first laid eyes on the moon after my death.”
The memory of him sitting you down on a plush cushion across from him on a frost-bitten day four winter’s ago resurfaces, the pang of heartbreak sat against your chest at the thought. He had made two cups of green tea and lightheartedly joked that you “might have to sit down for this one”– and he wasn't wrong.
“I thought I ruined the one connection that I have. That I trust. Yes I left; I saw something in your eyes that I had never seen before and it scared me. I didn't know what to do– and I didnt want to stick around to find out…” he paused for a moment to look at you before shaking his head and dropping his gaze back to your floor, ''I stayed out of your sight but you were always in mine.”
Anger flared up in your chest, but before you could open your mouth to spew your fire, he continued, “I hated that I had caused your disconnect to the world. You always looked like you were so happy just to be alive, but after what I had done, your eyes weren’t the same anymore. They became dull, like the warm flame behind your eyes had burnt down to it’s last ember. And I just kept thinking to myself, “I’m the reason your flame gave out.” I was having all these contradicting thoughts about how i had fucked up by acting upon my urges to make my feelings known and yet i couldn't stop thinking about how you felt against me. What could have happen… what i wanted to happen.”
Gojo took a breath and faced you– something, you acknowledged, he’d been too scared to do.
“What I'm feeling is insatiable. I want you… endlessly. I am so completely and utterly in love with you. I was scared to admit that because of how we first met. I witnessed you on your deathbed. I could see the life leave a young stranger's eyes. If I hadn't known how to treat your wound, it would have left completely.”
“And that’s why you stayed away?” You whimpered.
“I CAN'T DIE,” he all but screamed, his voice breaking at the mention of death, “but you can.”
Gojo ended in a whisper so quiet but his immortality ricocheted off the walls of your mind.
To say that you hadn’t thought about it would be a lie, but it was never at the forefront of your mind. There were times where you’d feel stuck when looking at him— like he was a painting you could stare at for hours, but it never occurred to you to think about how he saw you. Gojo Satoru saw you age and fluctuate while he is the one that is cemented— suspended in time.
It was a struggle to find the words; now that you were looking at him, looking at the way he was looking at you, the thump in your chest felt hollow, empty, but with an urgency to be filled. A deep craving that swept right out from under you to be close to him. So close you couldn’t let go.
“Sato—“
Anxiety swallowed your stomach whole as you heard the cheery knock wrap at the door.
Ah, right. Afternoon tea. The plans you had made weeks ago with your friends since everyone has been too busy to get together. The one you were preparing for this morning. Before Gojo.
In a panic, you look over to him, the urge to cry resting at the base of your throat at the thought of him leaving.
He was already looking at you with a smile that could only be described as weak.
Your Jack Frost gently patted his thighs as a departing symbol, punctuated by a tortured, “I’ll be around,” before his long legs carried him over to the window.
Nothing was said as he left your fire escape. With his departure, your words softly floated back down your throat and all the way to the pit of your stomach where your anxiety yearned for more. More things to think about, more outcomes to possibly happen. More time for the knocking on your door to get louder until you heard your phone chime.
Are you okay?
˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚
The tea time helped. Your friends always know how to help, whether they know the problem or not. In fact, one of your friends made an unassuming joke about how cold it was in your apartment.
“Man, did Jack Frost pay you a visit before we got here? It’s freezing! ”
Your laugh came out a bit watery, topped with a sniffle. The irony of the “joke” definitely made it a lot funnier than it was supposed to be.
Tea was poured, pastries were nibbled until only crumbs littered your plates; it was nice listening to your friends laugh and catch up on the details of the month that the group had been apart.
When the attention was brought to you, one of your friends interrupted with an apology and asked about the extra cup full of cold green tea that sat on the coffee table. you simply shrugged, remembering the joke from earlier, “I thought it might be rude to not offer Jack a cup.”
They all give lighthearted laughs but you know they’re going to text in the group chat later to make sure you’re okay— which is fine. Maybe a little bit of space will help with the back to back interactions.
˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚
After the group left with all the hugs and warmth they brought into your home, you were left with silence, an emptiness in the center of your chest. For a minute, your head matched the quietness you were left with. Not a thought passed through your mind. You didn’t know what to do with yourself.
There were dishes in the sink. Maybe you could do those? You did insist that your friends could just leave their mugs and plates in the sink.
The warmth of the water wetting your hands ran a chill down your spine. It really was cold in your place.
Dish after dish, you slowly began to feel the loneliness creep back in. Alone. Always alone.
By the time the task was done, you’d come to the conclusion that maybe a nap would be the best way to recover from the events of the afternoon— but first, the apartment could not continue to be this cold.
Cranking up the small space heater in your living room, you sighed before moving to close all of your opened windows. First, the two in the living room, then the one in the bathroom and finally, the one in your room.
You had your door closed in an attempt to shield your friends away from the tornado that swept through your room— from the sprawled out papery that littered your desk, to the intimates that were scattered on your floor, following your unmade bed— but when you opened it, everything was… sorted.
Your window was closed with the space heater on, already gearing to warm up the place.
Your bed was made neatly, your fluffy white comforter looked as soft as a cloud and so did your pillows.
Your desk didn’t have its usual mess of pencils lying around and the papers sat in a neat pile near the corner.
Your underwear that had been on the floor was nowhere to be seen.
“I uh-“
A scream ripped out of your throat faster than you could process.
There was Gojo, sitting in your reading chair, looking almost sheepish as he waited for your recognition to kick in.
“Satoru– what–”
“Okay wait–”
“No! Fuck, I thought you were gone! Like you weren't coming back–”
“I said that i'll be around!” he argued, standing up from the chair but not making any moves to get close.
“And my room? You just decided to come in, uninvited and clean?”
He looked confused, granted, so were you. Why were you yelling at him? Why were you close to crying? The state of your room had nothing to do with it.
“Darling…”
When his icy hands first touched your skin, you flinched— something he was not expecting and took the wrong way. His eyes widened, his hands recoiling while he glared at them… as if he was disgusted by himself. Your body moved before your brain could come up with a reason not to; you took his hands before they could meet his hips and cupped your cheek, nuzzling into the embrace. His thumb lightly brushed over your lips and you followed the urge to kiss it.
You maintained eye contact with him, trying to ingrain the subtle shock in his bright eyes; you wanted to remember every detail of this moment.
Your lips parted, mouth open and welcoming the gentle prodding of the pad of his thumb against the slick muscle of your tongue.
The initial surprise in his eyes turned darker, becoming more aware of what's happening and where it could lead.
With the heater going, the increasing heat of the room felt like a contradiction with Gojo in such close proximity; the warmth licking your back while your front was basking in his cold attention. With his thumb venturing inside your mouth, you closed your lips around the digit and looked up with wide pleading eyes.
His breath shuddered— it seemed like the both of you were in a trance.
You came to your senses when Gojo whispered in a tenderness you’ve never heard from him before, your lips loosened— barely waiting for him to move his hand before you pushed up on your toes until your lips pressed against his.
You've thought long and hard about how his lips had felt against your own. For the first few months, that's all you could feel, a lingering chill against your lips, but as time passed, no matter how hard you clung to that feeling, you'd forgotten.
In this moment, you swear to remember the cool silk-like lips against yours. The kiss was quick, though it still had your heart pounding like it was ready to burst from your chest. A little peck was all it was… until it wasn’t.
Gojo seemed to be a statue, frozen in place until you started to pull away, slowly redistributing your weight from the tips of your feet to the rest. Your balance wasn't sound come the following seconds; Satoru’s free arm slipped behind your waist pulling you closer to where your bodies seemingly molded into one. He cradled your face in the palm of his hand while his fingers kept you in place, leading a kiss that felt like it had been taken out of a movie scene. It was dramatic, passionate, and just a little bit clumsy– but there was a hidden emotion tangled in between your lips that didn't need to be verbally expressed, but explored as the kiss deepened.
The tip of his nose was cold as it met yours when he pulled back to pant into your mouth, to which your lips clumsily curved upward into a warbly smile.
“I’ve missed you. So much.”
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princessjungeun · 2 years
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3:21~ yunjin x reader
a/n: i haven’t posted in a while but here’s something small. i hope it’s not that bad as im trying to get back into the swing of writing…im a bit rusty but yeah you all enjoy!
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outside your window the rain fell in white sheets and thunder shook your apartment complex every few minutes. you sat on your couch with a ball of yarn on your lap and a crochet hook in your hand. across from you yunjin scrolled through her phone, occasionally stealing glances at you when you weren’t looking. your feet rested on her lap as you laid back into the pillow behind you.
a clap of thunder rattled the floor and flickered the lights abruptly making you jump and subconsciously let out a small whine. without looking up from her phone yunjin rested her hand atop your socked foot, rubbing up to your ankle softly. she mumbled as if it was an automatic response, “it’s okay.” you smiled at the small action and went back to making your scarf.
minutes passed and yet another clap of thunder startled you, this time making you wince and shrink into yourself as the light went out completely. you sucked in a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut, wiggling your toes anxiously, and hoping they’d come back on when you opened your eyes.
with a soft and gentle tone yunjin squeezed your ankle, “it’s okay, remember the blinds are open. and my flashlight is on.” right as you were about to open your eyes, another clap of thunder shook the building, making you cover your ears and shake your head rapidly.
yunjin knew that you were sensitive to loud noises and that your fear of the dark ran deep into your childhood. she always did what she could to help you, but sometimes she didn’t know what to do or nothing worked for you. all she could do was wait it out beside you even though she hated seeing you upset.
her hand rubbed along your shin down to the top of your foot rhythmically as she let you calm yourself down. it took ten minutes but eventually you removed your hands from your ears and opened your eyes. she asked gently, “you okay?” you nodded without saying anything which rang arm bells in your girlfriend’s mind. with a worried tone she asked, “are you sure? i can go get your headphones if you want? or i can-” you cut her off, “i said im okay, jen. i just needed a minute.” she took an breathe of relief and nodded in reply.
the lights flickered back on and you mumbled, “finally…those generators are being put to use.” you grabbed your yarn and crochet hook and picked back up where you left off, your glasses sliding down your nose every now and again. across from you, you could feel yunjin staring at you but she didn’t say a word.
your gaze met hers and you asked, “what?” she didn’t say anything she just watched you with a fond smile on her face. you rolled your eyes playfully and went back to crocheting when she mused, “how do you do that?” you looked up and motioned to the scarf you were making, “this?” she nodded and you moved your feet from her lap, “i’ll show you.”
when you said you’d show her, she didn’t think you meant you’d teach her…or attempt to for that matter. you handed her a skein of lavender yarn and a hook. you tied her slip knot knowing it would take twenty minutes for her to do if you tried to teacher her that part alone.
“okay so you just take this yarn here and you loop it around the hook like this- and pull this up and over. see?” you demonstrated slowly to your girlfriend and she looked down at the hook and yarn in her lap then said with a complete lack of confidence, “okay sure?”
she tried for herself and after five minutes she figured out how to make one stitch. you told her with a grin, “ok now do 10 more of those” you watched in amusement as she tried to make a chain. her brows furrowed in concentration with her hands very close to her face so she could see everything she was doing.
after an hour you’d managed to reach her the beginning steps of a pouch and she was on her own until she reached a certain part which would take her probably a day. you giggled to yourself as you heard her mumbling a string of cuss words and complaints at how it was the yarn and hook that was doing things wrong not her. she let out a groan then asked, “why did you tell me this was relaxing? this is more stressful than training while being in high school.” you waved her off and teased, “you’re just being dramatic, it is relaxing.”
yunjin continued trying her best to follow the steps you gave her but found that her eyes were slowly starting to droop. after a while she ended up dozing off, hook and yarn in hand as she slept soundly. her head fell onto your shoulder but she didn’t wake up or even move in response to it. instead of moving her, you let her rest against you as you finished up the scarf you’d been making for the past three days. you looked at her and thought to yourself, not relaxing my ass…
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starlessskies94 · 1 year
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Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)
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Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?
Pairing: Joel Miller x OC
Notes: HEYYYYY Guess who's back??!! It me!! I just want to say a HUGE thank you to all you lovely readers; the support for this story has been unreal and I'm eternally grateful for it; I literally couldn't even put it into words. I'm doing a lot better now and I'm in a much better head space and ready get back into the wonderful world of this story. I have slightly changed a sentence in chapter 11 (The flashback of winter) just to include Ada's medical knowledge because it was bugging me that I missed it the first time. It's just a little change and it doesn't really change the chapter in any. It was just something I needed to change from a writers POV if that makes sense. Anyway thank you for sticking with me for so long; you incredible people make my day with your support/comments etc… its readers like you that really keep me motivated to continue writing so thank you for that.
I hope you enjoy this chapter and it doesn't disappoint as it's taken me a while to get back into the swing of things so hopefully I'm not too rusty and it's not a let down. Love yous lots hope you enjoy the chapter ❤️
Chapter Fifteen
They’d been driving for what felt like hours and they were running out of road. Tommy had managed to follow Joel’s tracks from the gate, although at times it had been difficult with the rain washing most of them away. Eventually they followed their way out towards the ski lift outpost; only to be greeted with disappointment when they found the place empty. There were signs of life however; muddy boot and hoof prints dried to the floor from the storm that had now passed. The crumbs of half eaten carrots litter the ground and open cans of stew left scattered along one of the tables near the recently lit fire pit. Dina moved to inspect it; taking a hold of the spoon left in the pan, both stuck together by the burnt remains of the leftover stew sticking to the bottom of it.  
“Well; at least we know he was definitely here.” Dina joked awkwardly trying to lighten the mood a little. But Tommy didn’t see the funny side; his nostrils flaring in frustrated anger as he stomped forward kicking at the table, sending the empty cans sputtering across the floor. 
“Goddamn it!” He yelled. The sound echoing through the dead quiet. Ada and Dina both flinched at the outburst. The older woman moved towards him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder in a feeble attempt to calm him. 
“Taking it easy Tommy.” She tried but he threw his shoulder aggressively, shrugging her away as he whipped around on his heel to face her. “Easy?!” He barked. “We keep just missing him, how the fuck are we supposed to find to him when he had a two day head start?!” 
Ada signed deeply trying to ignore the sting of Tommy’s spurn. She knew he didn’t mean it. He was tired. They all were. And frustrated and worried about Joel. It was hard not to lose your temper at the situation; especially one that was more of less of their own making. She and Tommy blamed themselves for basically driving Joel away from Jackson in the first place. Even now Ada was rerunning their last conversation over and over again in her head. Her guilt twisting in both her stomach and tightening within her chest at all the things she could’ve said instead. But that kind of thought would get her nowhere now. She needed to focus on the here and now. And the only thing that mattered was bringing Joel home. 
She took another breath; her eyes searching the room for any more signs that Joel may have left behind. “We just have to be smart about this.” She wondered aloud as she continued looking. “When we move on, we have to be certain we’re headed in the right direction.”
“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?! Huh?” Tommy scoffed bitterly, throwing his hands up in defeat. “We don’t even know where Joel’s going!”
She turned back towards her brother in law; her mind scrambling desperately for an idea or a lead. Her eyes staring down intensely at the floor before glancing back up at Tommy. “Well maybe he’s going back to Boston? You talked about your time in the QZ right?” She offered hopefully. Tommy’s lip curled in disdain at her idea; pacing back and forth. 
“I told him but that don’t mean he listened.” He dismissed. “And I doubt he’d head back home to Texas… he knows there’s nothing there anymore. I’ve been, I’ve seen it. The house is wrecked and it’s been picked clean.” 
The room fell silent at Tommy’s condescending tone as Ada bit her lip to keep from saying anything that might just aggravate the situation. Her eyes glancing across towards Dina who was looking around the back of the room; obviously trying to keep out of the way. Ellie had stayed by the door at first but now was kneeled down behind the remains of the cafe bar; pulling through the drawers and cabinets. Throwing away any junk that didn’t aid in her search for Joel. Her heart ached as she watched her. The teen hadn’t uttered a word since leaving Jackson. It was clear even now that she blamed herself for everything, she was so tired of this. The Fireflies had caused them nothing but grief and anger ever since she’d met them. Even years later, after the fuckers had disbanded they were still tearing apart her family and she despised them for it. 
The thought made her pause for a moment. Wait…the Fireflies…Joel's letter; her stomach dropped at the realization.
“Then he’s going after the Fireflies!” Dina announced, speaking her thoughts before she could voice them herself. Ada offered the girl a broken smile in spite of herself, a wave of relief that at least someone was on the same page as her.  But once again…Tommy only scoffed bitterly at the suggestion. 
“And why the hell would he go after the people that tried to kill him?!” He spat, pulling a face at Dina as she backed down to sit on the one the couches. Her head hung in shame like a child that had just been scolded. Ada’s blood was beginning to boil now at his attitude. She stomped over towards her brother in law; standing toe to toe with the man. Her dark eyes staring him down as her patience was beginning to wear thin. 
“Think about it, everything goes back to them for him.” She explained trying to keep herself calm. “I told him what happened and what he did to save Ellie. But he still couldn’t get his head around exactly who the fireflies were and what they meant.” She took a breath clenching her fists by her side, almost daring Tommy to shoot her down again. But the man just scoffed in her face and damn if she wasn’t tempted to punch the condescending bastard in the nose all over again!
 “Great! That’s just fucking great! He’s going after the Fireflies which means he could be anywhere by now! We don’t know where the fireflies were even headed!” 
“Yes we do! You said you got word they were in Seattle.”
“Rumors, Ada, I heard rumors. Nothing concrete. And it don’t matter anyway, that was between me and a few of the boys on lookout. I never even told Joel about it!”
Okay, now Ada was getting pissed with him. She trembled with anger; her eyes wide and nostrils flared as she once again stood toe to toe with Tommy. Her fist somehow managed to unclench as she instead pointed her sharp finger into his chest; her voice quivering. “Well I don’t see you coming up with any ideas!” She yelled into his face.” You just keep shooting down everyone else’s!”
“Because I’m trying to make sure that we know where we’re headed. We can’t go running in any damn direction, just hoping we stumble into Joel by accident.” They were practically nose to nose now; almost growling at each other like challenging wolves about to snap at each other throats for the kill. Eyes blazing with anger and frustration that had no outlet except aimed at the person in front of them. 
“She didn’t say we should!” Dina said defensively as she tried to pull them apart. It was a futile attempt however, both were stubborn and both were angrily still glaring at the other. Until Ellie slammed one of the chairs against the floor to grab their attention. 
“For fucks sake enough! God this arguing is getting us nowhere! Everyone just shut the fuck up okay?!” She growled. The room grew quiet again. The tension dissipating as Ellie glared at the both of them, until eventually they backed away from the other. Both awkwardly cowering like wounded animals. Clearly embarrassed of their childish behavior. They glance at one another with an apologetic look in their eyes. They knew  she was right. They were the adults and they were acting like moody teenagers. While the actual teenagers seemed to be the only ones with their heads on straight. Ellie took a breath as everyone turned to look at her. She sighed once again as she gestured to the record book that was left open on the table in front of her. Ellie didn’t know why, she just knew it was Joel who’d left it there. Her eyes running across the writing from happier times. She glanced back at others with tears welling in her eyes. “I know where Joel’s going… he’s heading back to Salt Lake City.” She said with unshakeable certainty. 
“What? You mean back to the hospital? Why the hell would he be going there? The Fireflies quit that place years ago.” Tommy pointed out gently. But Ellie was in no mood to argue anymore; shaking her head defiantly. 
“Put yourself in his place…Joel’s trying to remember things. He wants to get his memory back; if you were him where else would you start?” She explained and in that moment everything clicked into place. 
“Holy shit you’re right. He’s trying to retrace his steps! Ellie you’re a fucking genius!” He beamed, a broken laugh of disbelief leaving him as his eyes lit up.  “Everyone back in the truck, we move now we might be able to catch him up.” 
No one wasted a second as they scrambled to their feet; all four rushing back towards the door and out into the truck. She didn’t know how she knew but she was positive that was where Joel was heading. After all, it was exactly where she had gone for answers herself and it was also the place where mournfully she had lost him all those years ago; perhaps now it would be the place where she finally got Joel back again.
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narrators-journal · 2 months
Note
persona 4 and 5
Kanji x ann and rise
Kinks: cuckquean, netorare(is considered If the cheated person knows?), blowjob, love Bites and scratchings, impregnation and Mating press.
After a sucessiful moddeling job and creating the clothes, kanji is rewarded by his hard Work How? By recording a breeding fuck session with his wife's best friend and co-worker ann takamaki. All set-up by his wife rise
Hello Man your Works are Very impressive i Hope you stay safe and be a even better writter. 🍷
This might be a bit eh, as I am a little rusty with the longer set-ups. But! I’m proud of this one! I like the set up, and I think I got all of your requests! At least, on the kinks. I often tend to just, run with my own ideas as I often forget the suggested ones lol. Plus! This is more fun! It’s like a lottery, what set up will you get lololol.
I don’t often write Kanji, so if he’s kinda eh, that’s why. As for Ann, I try to keep her to the characterization of having grown confident in herself and her sexuality in her adulthood? And I hope I’m not disrespectful with the character in these smuts hehe. Either way though! Hope you enjoy!
CW: A crumb of dubcon/coersion and impregnation. A bit o’ masochism, maybe a bit of exhibitionism/semi-public sex? Considering where this is? A new kink as well! Netorare! I had to look that one up, lol. It’s at least there in spirit, as well as Rise being a cuckquean. “Okay everybody! That’s a wrap, take ten and we’ll start on our next collection!” the photographer called as if it were a movie set rather than a rented out pool for his small group of helpers and their model for the day, a shapely blonde woman at the edge of the water.
And, as the photographer, lighting, makeup, and P.A’s scattered like rats for their own reasons, Ann Takamaki simply sighed and stayed by the pool to enjoy the cool water. At least, until an expected voice drew her attention, “Uh, hey there, Takamaki! Rise said you needed some of her makeup to show one of your people?” Kanji Tatsumi said, let into the set by one of the P.As like Ann had told them to. “Oh! Hey there, Kanji, yeah! Thanks a lot for bringing it, sorry if you had to, like, leave work or anything.” She chirped, finally getting to her feet to greet the man in the valentines-red bikini she wore with no shame. Though, Kanji seemed to have a different opinion.
Not that Ann could blame him, she could admit she’d grown into quite the attractive woman. With full breasts, breeding-ready hips, and supple thighs, her body was eye catching. And that wasn’t even to mention how her honey blonde hair was perfectly styled and her makeup was done up to make her as hot as humanly possible. And, after all of her experiences as a phantom thief, she had the comfort to take a bit of pride in how she could fluster men so easily.
Though, Kanji bit back his nerves to give her the blush Rise had used as her excuse. At least, until he remembered her attire. “O-oh, right, maybe I should keep hold of this until you’re...done.” he chuckled, a bit pink as Ann shrugged, “Just means you’ll have to hang around if you do that. Again, hope you don’t have to work today.” “O-oh, no, I’m off. Hence why, y’know, my wife sent me.” He said, all of the confidence and machismo Rise said he had in school, gone like a puff of smoke at the simple sight of Ann in a bikini. “I’m sure you did great today, by the way, Takamaki. Or...uh, you looked great? Uh, I mean, for the photos. Whichever is...appropriate.” Kanji Tatsumi offered, his attempts to keep his blue eyes off of Ann’s bikini-clad body while he tried to make some sort of awkward small talk kind of cute to the woman. She appreciated that the rather nerdy-looking ex-delinquent did his best to not leer at her cleavage or hips like most men.
Granted, Ann had long since become desensitized to the attention of men. Their eyes, words, and whistles all reactions she had come across in her years of modeling so many times that she could almost predict the ‘compliments’ and offers they would throw out. But, she still found it a bit flattering to see the ebony-haired man try to be polite. This is why I agreed to help your wife. “Y’know, Kanji, I could use someone to help me blow off some steam real quick before the photographer returns.” She mused, the tall ex-delinquent only able to give a confused look at her implication.
So, she smiled sweetly at him and strolled up to him to ghost a hand down from his chest, over his belly, and over his crotch. “Help me blow off some steam~” She reiterated in a more lustful tone. Yet, the man was as stiff as a board at her touch, so he couldn’t respond.
However, that didn’t stop Ann when she backed him up to the cold wall of the pool’s room before she lowered herself down to her knees and tugged his pants down to free his cock to the slightly humid air of the room. Free for the pretty blonde to stroke and toy with until it was at least somewhat erect. Of course, she didn’t stop there, though, as she escalated to rubbing small circles into the tip of his member to draw out a bead of precum. Which, with a smile up to the man, she kissed away.
And, with her lips pressed to the head of kanji’s semi-erect cock, the dark-haired man seemed to come to from his dazed state, a little frantic between her and the pool room’s wall. “Hey! Wait a second, I-I have a wife!” he reminded her, which made the blonde chuckle, sweetly humming with her fingers keeping his cock in place so she could speak, “Yeah, but doesn’t that make it all the more fun?~ It’s sooooo taboo~” She purred, before she silenced any further arguments with a swipe of her tongue against the tip. Though, she chose not to tease him further with the way the mention of it’s taboo nature made his member twitch, and instead took the head of him into her mouth.
From there, he fell into a stunned silence and let her bob her head further and further down to work him bit by bit into the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue pressed against the bottom of his length as it slid further and further towards the back of her throat. Just the right amount of suction and the careful strokes of her hand enough to earn a few quiet moans from the hesitant man.
However, Ann didn’t let Kanji cum justyet. No, instead, she let his dick slip out of her warm mouth with a soft, teasing pop, now erect before she slowly stood up in front of him with her false nails pressed into the man’s thighs to drag up with her. Angry red lines left in her wake before she pressed her ample chest to his with a coy smile. “Come now, Kanji~ Let’s just have some quick fun, okay? Your wife won’t ever have to know.”
Kanji paused to think for a moment before he answered with a kiss. A heated kiss, that he held as he turned the blonde so that shewas the one trapped between a body and the cool solidity of the wall. Something that Ann easily allowed the tall man to untie the bottoms of her bikini and hoist her up to wrap her legs around his hips. Which, allowed her to grind against his boner and earn more moans. All the while, Ann’s pretty nails bit into his skin and left more and more of those red lines on his skin.
Though, the sparks of pain she was sure her scratches left didn’t do much to dissuade the desperate man who rutted against her. The friction able to stoke her own embers of lust until, finally, his cock slid into her. And, god did he feel good. Jesus, I can tell how you got a wife so easily. Ann thought as his impressive length stretched her and pushed against all of the most sensitive spots within her the further he pushed in. The delicious waves of pleasure enough to draw out Ann’s own moans.
But, the warm pulses of pleasure didn’t stop there. Because, once Kanji was buried within Ann’s cunt, he hooked an arm beneath her thighs and forced them from his hips, to his arms. A move that simultaneously caused a spark of discomfort, but also allowed him to slip further into her before the ebony-haired man began to thrust at an almost feral pace. Which, was a fair choice, as Ann’s break before another photo shoot was sort of brief, but, regardless of that, it also made for an onslaught of surprising fun. Each time the glasses-clad man drove his dick within her, the coil within her belly tightened more and more. As if to make room for his cock within her due to how deep his thrusts went.
However, the blonde resisted the urge to throw her head back in some equally carnal howl of desire. After all, she was still caged between him and a wall, and a concussion wouldn’t be the best for her next photoshoot. So, instead, she moved to bury her face in the man’s neck to huff his musky cedar-scented cologne. Before, on a whim, she began to nip and bite at his throat to continue those sparks of pleasurable pain to push Kanji further.
And, in turn, his thrusts somehow managed to grow more feral, as if he sought to knock her up in the most brutal pace possible. Kanji almost seemingly lost in his own pleasure and unaware of how his desperate, sloppy thrusts flushed out Ann’s thoughts. Until, finally, they both seemed to reach a feverish temperature that blinded Ann to everything but the cold material of the pool room wall. The contrast of the heat of Kanji’s fertile cum as it filled her womb and the coarse wall enough to slowly anchor her back to reality, where Kanji panted, his blue eyes slowly beginning to focus back just like hers. ”Was that fun for you too?” She asked, able to watch the blush spread across his face as he dropped her legs and stepped away. “Oh my god...I’ve fucked up so bad…” “Oh don’t start that,” Ann hummed as she plucked her bottoms up from the floor and retied them back around her hips as if her legs weren’t jello beneath her. “It was fun! I’m sure your wife will forgive you.” She assured, but the guilt didn’t seem to go far, even as Kanji nodded and straightened his own clothes.
And, said nothing else as they separated once more. Kanji sure to scurry home, Ann to her next photo shoot in the pool’s water as if nothing had happened on her break.
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littlesugarwords · 2 years
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Hi Tay! I really enjoy reading your writing. I read your fics a lot even while at school. Could I request a fic with Gabe and Clem? (Its a sorta based on your previous fics) Gabe and Clem get captured by raiders in a truck but they escape and have to hide out in the woods while Clem patches up Gabe's wound (I hope you don't mind the request)
Title: A Little Patch-Up Plot: Gabe and Clementine get captured by the Delta, but manage to break free. Before they make a run for it, Clementine needs to patch Gabe up. Characters: Clementine, Gabe Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping, blood, stitches Notes: of course friend!!!! thank you so so much for liking and reading my things :’) here you go! 💛 ━━ ☼ ━━ 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 💌☕️♡ ━━ ☼ ━━ It all happened just like that.
One second, they’re stuck in the back of a Delta vehicle. The rusted bars of their cage surrounded them, and the dust and dirt from the road was splashing up into their faces.
All Clementine needed to do was snap her hand ties off - brutally splicing up her hands and wrists - and kicked at the bars under they cracked. It felt as though they had been left to rust for years, and knowing Lilly and her resourcefulness, they probably were.
Clementine untied Gabe, squeezed his arm to follow her, and jumped out of the vehicle. If they made it off the vehicle in one piece, the next battle was being able to get away.
“Cle—” Gabe didn’t even get the chance to finish. Before he knew it, Clem’s hand was locked around his wrist, and she tugged him out of the gaping hole.
On the way out, Clementine’s shirt snagged on the jagged edge of the busted-out, rusty pipes. Also caught was Gabe’s side, the metal catching his side and ripping the flesh open.
He wanted to groan but bit on his lower lip instead. The less noise they made to draw attention to themselves - even more so than they already had - the better.
They hit the gravel with their palms. For Gabe, only one of his palms. The other was clutching the wound in his side, not wanting to get any more dirt in it.
“Gabe!” Clementine whisper-yelled, turning to him frantically. She looked behind them, watching as the wagon clanked on.
The teen jumped into action, popping her hands under Gabe’s arms and dragging him as rapidly as possible into the shrubs nearby.
“Gabe, I need you to stay quiet, okay?” Gabe only groaned in response. All he could focus on was the agony on his side.
Clementine peaked over the shrubbery, watching to see if they had noticed their abandonment. But, the wagon continued to wobble down the path, oblivious to their escape.
Clem sighed, eyes closed, waiting stealthily. The second they got far enough away, she’d feel comfortable speaking to Gabe again.
“Clem,” Gabe beat her to it, his voice raspy and aching. Clem turned, frustrated at first that he was disregarding her demand to keep quiet.
As her eyes locked onto his frame, she realized why.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, sliding over to Gabe’s injured side. It was far worse than she originally thought it would be. The skin was torn open, fresh blood coating the fabric surrounding the wound. “Gabe?”
“It burns,” he said softly, his head tossed back. Luckily for the both of them, he was still keeping quiet despite his agony. “It hurts bad, Clem.”
“Don’t worry,” she said softly, glancing around, attempting to figure out what was the best route of action was.
Fuck. Her backpack. They’d taken it. It had almost everything Clementine could ever think to need at a moment’s notice. She had been collecting items since the downfall of society first began. Matches, alert beacons, a horn, a knife, and pictures of friends and family she didn’t want to lose.
Everything.
Clem felt dejected, realizing all of her possessions were pretty much gone. When she sat down on the ground, she heard a crunch - a faint one - from her back pocket. Clem reached into her back pocket, pulling out a small, plastic sewing kit.
Bingo.
She opened the slightly-cracked container, gathering the little amount of thread and the busted-up needle it held. “Perfect,” she said softly.
Gabe turned, wanting context for the noises he kept hearing, and spotted her wiping the needle on her first. Gabe’s blood wet cold. “Wait, what are you—”
“We need to stitch you up, Gabe,” Clem said, focusing more on prepping the needle than on explaining. They didn’t have time. Who knew when Delta would realize they were gone. They needed to patch Gabe up and get out of there. “We don’t have time.”
“Clem, I don’t know if I—”
“You need to, Gabe,” Clem said. She grabbed his arm, eyes wide and sincere, begging for him to let her work. “I can’t watch this get infected.” Her voice was sturdy and secure, but the longer their gazes lingered, the more emotional Clem felt.
The bigger the lump became in her throat.
“I can’t watch you die.”
Gabe watched Clem’s expression grow more worried and pained. After a beat, he watched a tear roll down her rosy cheek.
Clementine knew how much it sucked - and hurt - to get stitched up, but she also knew he would be a goner without it. She knew what he was dealing with.
“Please, just trust me.”
Gabe reached up, using his thumb to gracefully brush away her tear. His palm was cold against her skin; pale and bruised from the day’s adventure.
“I’ve always trusted you,” he answered plainly. “You’re the one I trust the most.”
Clementine’s eyes widened, only slightly. The glossy demeanour of them lessened. She smiled; sad, with a hint of worry. But, she put on a brave face for her companion. “I’ve always got you.”
Gabe groaned as he leaned back, adjusting his position for her to work. “You’ve never let me down this far.” he hoped she didn’t start now with stitches sewn into his side.
Clementine took a deep breath, cracking her knuckles and steadying her hands. “Okay, deep breath in,” she hushed.
Then, she began. She could feel Gabe tense, and heard him take a sharp breath in.
“Okay?” She asked, continuing to work. She wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, for the sake of both of them.
“Okay,” he wheezed out. He was very much not okay, but he didn’t want to worry Clementine. He needed to stay strong.
Clementine could tell it hurt like a bitch.
“Keep breathing,” she hushed as she worked, sliding the needle in and out as quickly as possible. It didn’t need to be beautiful, just stitched.
Gabe groaned, squeezing his eyes closed. He clutched out of his arms tightly, trying to funnel the pain somewhere else. Noticing this, Clementine frowned.
Not thinking twice, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his knuckles, then continued. “I’m almost done. Hang in there.”
Every muscle in Gabe’s body froze, his eyes widened, and his cheeks exploded.
Clementine refused to look at his face as she finished, pretending she was focusing. She didn’t want to see what his reaction was; it was too embarrassed. She was just trying to distract him.
Just.
“Just one more stitch,” Clem said, clearing her throat awkwardly.
Gabe just mumbled, stunned. Was he dreaming? Did he actually die? There was no way. That was—
“Done,” Clem said, tossing the needle back into the plastic case. She turned away, brushing herself off. She didn’t want him to see the pink covering her face.
Luckily for Gabe, his awe had completely shocked him numb. He slowly began to turn propping himself upright cautiously as to not bust his stitches. Suddenly, a hand was trust into his face.
Clementine was looking ahead instead o at him. Still, he could see her face washed with colour. He smiled, comforted that he wasn’t the only one.
“Come on,” she said, “let’s get moving.”
Gabe smiled, placing his palm in hers. By the time his was on his feet, their fingers lingered for a beat longer than they should have before falling.
“Ready?” Gabe asked.
Finally, Clementine turned to meet his gaze, smiling sincerely his way. “Ready.”
Maybe things would turn out okay, after all.
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thediscsystem · 1 year
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Hello, so here's a sample of a rough scene from a thing I'm writing. Do enjoy, although it is slightly long for a sample.
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"So, Francis, what happened to you to make you so, starved seeming?" Arthur Longmire asked with a curious glance. The 3 plates and 3 glasses from tonight's raided dinner and drink laid empty in front of Francis.
"They encased me in this earth, Arthur." Kojot started with a dark chuckle. Arthur turned his full attention to the other man. This was going to be interesting.
"They threw me away as easy as anything. They saw me as a pest to be exterminated. They thought they were doing my people a favor." The man's breath shuddered as if he was feeling the cold earth around him again. "I thought it was a joke that they had no clue what they were doing. But then their priest came out with the nails. As I turned to the sky for the last time in a long time, I laughed at how wrong I was. The Catholic priest spoke of a God I definitely wasn't on speaking terms with, and he pushed me into the grave they had dug for me. The earth closed around me against its will. I felt it apologize and cry out. He drove the nails into the earth. Rusty and true. My eclipse ended, and I could no longer move." Kojot then began to properly shake. Arthur placed a reassuring hand on the man's head and idly scratched. Arthur would later wonder why he did this. He wanted to comfort the strange man he was beginning to consider a friend, but this seemed like an odd gesture. He would later find that occasionally, when Francis Kojot was upset, people had the urge to comfort him in the ways that he wanted to be comforted, no matter the person's original inclinations. Arthur did not consider this at this time as Kojot continued to speak. Arthur just idly pet the man.
"I didn't sleep. I don't think it would have been easier if I could sleep, but I didn't sleep. So I laid there awake for, what, 60 years? Kept alive only by people on their porches yelling at coyotes and people trying to observe the eclipse. My true name was not spoken and it was never written down. Bad luck, yknow? But anyways, eventually this guy comes along. I feel his feet scrape the dirt above me and I hear as he begins mumbling something. He starts… chanting. My name. My real name. Not the one I told you. He takes the nails from the ground with his bare hands. They cut his right hand as he squeezed it shut around the nails. This fella really knew his stuff. The earth opened up around me. Releasing me and allowing me to breathe and cough again. I was still beastly when I rose. Fur and claws and teeth, the whole nine yards. But I still looked human enough. I saw him for the first time and nearly wanted to crawl back in my hole. Surrounded by the crosses the priests had left over the years to keep me there, was a man in a charcoal suit. The man from the Railroad. I owed him everything for raising me from death but I never asked for this, and I don't think i could pay whatever price he had in mind. He looked at me and smiled and said, your death was unjust, friend, a trick. See the light of day and the light of the moon as one yet again. And call me when you get the chance. He then dropped the rusty nails, coated in what appeared to be mortal blood but was certainly not, and he walked away. I stood there for a while. Unsure of what to do or even who I was meant to be anymore. But I got the hang of it again. But, yeah you got me rambling. Does that answer your question?"
Arthur stared in shock at Kojot as he attempted to process everything he had just been told while still scratching behind Francis's ear, eliciting a small, pleasant noise and a smile.
"Yeah, definitely tells me why you've got beef with catholics, but what does that have to do with how hungry you always are?" Arthur asked.
"The point, is that I went hungry for a long time. In both a literal and metaphorical sense, and that never really went away."
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Hope you enjoyed that little thing.
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ajokeformur-ray · 3 years
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~ Angry cuddles with Patrick Verona ~
Summary: Pat’s mad at you. But he also wants his cuddles. What occurs when his need overcomes his anger is too cute and it leads to the both of you melting into the mattress together. (SFW)
Something my darling @loveletterstoledger​ said to me today sparked this little ficlet. This idea was entirely her own and I wanted to write something about it so please send her some love directly if you enjoy this; she deserves it!💜💗🌸💙 (I hope you enjoy this, my love!!!! I haven’t written for Pat for a while so I might be a bit rusty!)💛🥰💕
TW; (minor) argument between Y/N and Pat, miscommunication (this is the basis of the argument), tension (momentary). If I’ve missed anything then please let me know!
Word count: 1, 038.
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“Pat, would you just listen to m - “ Your voice rises slightly with frustration and with some kind of urgency for Pat to do as you ask him to, which is simply to listen because he’s labouring under a misunderstanding and you want to correct it, but his dark brown eyes seem to look through you. 
Pat’s beyond the point of listening to you and so angry is he that he’s unable to be his best self for you as he scoffs and leaves the room, his dark curls flying about his face like the strands are electrical currents, so palpable are his emotions in this moment. He storms from the room and his steel toe caps thunder through the house until finally does your bedroom door slam shut so hard that the walls in the living room, where you stand, shake. 
You sigh in defeat, a thick lump of unshed tears in your throat and a prickly heat behind your eyes and nostrils spreads. You wrinkle your nose - you won’t cry. You’re not going to follow him, so knowing are you that when Pat removes himself from a situation, it’s because he’s keeping venom from leaving his tongue; what’s said is said. Even in the worst of moods, Pat wouldn’t want to do you unnecessary harm, and so he silences himself before there’s even a risk of that happening.
You grab your phone as you sit on the sofa and give yourself a small break from the monotony of your daily routine. If you know Pat as well as you’re sure that you do, then he’ll be back within twenty minutes. With a small smile and a lot of anxiety, you force yourself to focus on mindlessly scrolling your socials (the irony doesn’t escape you). 
Just as you get into the rhythm of scrolling without thought and refreshing your feeds every few seconds, cycling are you through the apps on your phone, Pat comes storming into the room and grabs your hand, pulling you up to standing. He seems to be a live wire, his skin almost crawling with energy. His dark curls fly around him as his hand tightly grips yours and without looking back does he walk with you to the bedroom. 
Pat ignores all of your questions and all of your protests; half way to the room do you cease this and simply allow Pat to do as he will; so stubborn is he that he will always get his way. Truthfully would you allow nothing less than this, for there is nothing he could ask which you could ever refuse and the same is equally true in the reverse. You live for each other.
Finally do the both of you reach the bedroom and Pat uses his spare hand to slam the door shut behind you; you are barely in the room for there is a strong gust of wind against your head and you step closer into Pat, not wanting to get your clothes stuck in the door. 
“Pat, what - “ One last attempt to see what Pat was after, but before you could finish your sentence, he grunted and threw himself down on the bed, the look in his eyes making his needs obvious.
You tried to not laugh but you couldn’t help it. “Ohhh ~ ,” You exhaled and made a sound of knowing at the same time. “You want your angry cuddles.” You bit down on your lip to prevent from laughing too much but you had always found it funny when Pat got angry. He just stomped around, made some noise and then demanded for cuddles like he was a belligerent cat. He didn’t like being angry and so he usually calmed down pretty quickly. You came forward and Pat lunged forward and wrapped his arms around you, tugging you down with him onto the bed.
Pat grunts angrily and crushes you to his chest, his breaths deep and long as he forces himself to calm down, as he gets himself reacquainted with what it means to hold you in his arms and to be safe in what the both of you share. He presses a tender yet somehow aggressive kiss to your forehead and rests his chin, the angles of which are sharp, against the crown of your head, and takes another deep breath before he makes another angry noise and rolls so that you’re pressed against the mattress and Pat is hovered over you.
You let him tug you this way and that, used are you to Pat’s angry cuddles. As far as healthy ways of dealing with anger goes, Pat has one of the healthier methods you’ve ever seen. He always lets himself vent his emotions and always will he apologise for negative ones as and when he expresses them to you, even and especially when they’re not actually directed at you. Normally are the both of you efficient at communicating with one another but for some reason today did you just bump heads and so was nothing solved. 
He leans forward and presses his forehead against yours, the fire in his eyes slowly beginning to simmer into a gentle flame. For some reason is there a tugging in your gut and and you begin to speak, your voice just above a whisper as you tell Pat what you had been trying to say before the tension had deafened Pat’s ears to your words only moments ago. He listens to you, inclining his head as he presses kisses to your cheeks, lips, the pulse point on your neck. He hums and makes noises of sympathy and of compassion, so large is his heart, and you know that all is well between you again when his hands slide up, up your body and grip your face. His fingers splay behind your ears and he kisses you so soundly that you quite forget what you were just about to say, and perhaps that had been Pat’s plan all along.
He lives in the moment and dwells not on the past, for it is gone and all he has is right now with you. You’re everything to him, just as he is everything to you.
Patrick Verona  @itsthejoker @royaleclownx   @arianatheangelworld   @scaredclowncat​    @hotpacino  @call-me-harley-quinn @mountainjiwish  @bao-styles
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starsandsoulmates · 3 years
Text
Bedwars God
Dream x Reader
Request - So this is a dream x reader in real life the reader is a Minecraft youtuber, so I want their personality based off of LDshadowlady, basically like a soft girl, very friendly that can build cute stuff but know hot to pvp etc etc. And dream is like the biggest simp every. Anyways hope you have a good day bai bai
Summary - You are a twitch streamer and Dream donates to you asking for a 1v1.
Word Count - 1.6k
A/N - I’m a little bit rusty with my writing skills but I hope that you guys enjoy this! Keep the requests coming in so I can keep working on my characterizations!
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When the Twitter notification had popped up, you honestly hadn’t been expecting it. You stared for a few moments at it before it fully registered. Dream, the Dream, had just followed you on Twitter, the manhunt, Dream smp, Dream. After a brief moment of intense freaking out, you decided to draft a tweet, and a  few failed attempts later you finally sent the tweet.
@yourtwitterhandle
Dream followed me so I’m basically in the big leagues now. I’ll remember all of you once I’m famous. 😎
You smiled a little and scrolled through the replies of your fans freaking out about this news. They honestly were almost as excited as you were about this new development.  
Dream had been a huge inspiration to you when you had started streaming only a few months ago. Seeing the success he was able to achieve just by having fun with his friends was enough to push you into finally pressing the start stream button on Twitch. Of course, it had been a rocky start but now you had gained a following and were averaging about 10,000 viewers per stream. Your streams consisted of anything from Bedwars to building on your Minecraft world that you started the day you started streaming.
After a bit more time of scrolling through the replies on your tweet, you decided to finally get up and start to set up your stream for the day. You sent a quick tweet about streaming in 20 minutes and started to get ready. You checked all of your devices to make sure that they were running properly before turning on the stream starting soon screen. The chat exploded to life when the stream went online. It was filled with hellos and disbelief about the Dream follow. You giggled a little as you read through the chat before unmuting your mic for a moment.
“Hey guys just finishing up setting some things and I will be on. I’m going to drop a poll in chat on what you guys wanna see today,” You said happily as you booted up Minecraft.
You muted the mic again and started the poll before turning back to opening up Minecraft. You glanced at the poll and saw that Bedwars was winning by quite a bit so you decided to just log into Hypixel now. Once you were in the Hypixel lobby and you had nicked yourself, you finally let the stream see your screen. You turned on the camera and unmuted your mic.
“Hello, guys! How are you guys doing today,” You paused for a few moments to let your eyes roam over the chat, “I’m doing good, thank you so much for asking!”
“Okay let me do the donos I missed when I was setting up…” You read out all the donos you had missed and the gifted subs as well thanking your viewers and finally, you joined the Bedwars lobby.
“Okay so I think we are going to start off with some Bedwars today and then we can decide what to do after. How long am I going to stream?” you read from the chat, “I’m not exactly sure yet at least an hour or so we’ll see how long I can go before I get tired.”
You started to play Bedwars and got a mixed bag of good clutches and the inevitable failing at speed bridging. The stream was going perfectly with your viewers interacting with you and you having fun as well. At least until the dono came in that made you walk off the bridge you were in the middle of constructing to Blue’s base.
The monotone voice readout, “Hey, love your content we should definitely 1v1 sometime.”
The dono wasn’t particularly unusual but the fact that it was $100 and from dreamwastaken was the part that made you fall off the bridge.
“DREAM! You didn’t have to donate that much,” You paused to collect yourself and reorientate in the Bedwars game. “I would love to 1v1 you some time, I mean I think I’m pretty good at pvp but I don’t think that I’m that good at pvp.”
The chat was going absolutely insane at the dono and they were also calling the both of you simps. Dream for even donating in the first place and you for falling off the bridge when he donated.
You laughed softly at the chat, “Chat shush I am not a simp, it just caught me off guard that’s all.”
The stream from there on out was relatively normal with a few more Bedwars victories in the bag. After almost two hours of streaming, you decided to wrap up the stream.
“Okay, guys I think I need to head out and get some work done. I love you guys all so much and thank you for being here today. And an extra thank you for anyone who donated, subbed, or gifted subs. Remember to follow my Twitter it's the exact same as my twitch name. I usually announce when I’m going to stream on there as well as any other updates. Thank you guys so much and I will see you next time,” You said with a huge smile covering your face as you ended the stream after sending all of your viewers over to Tubbo who had started streaming towards the end of your stream.
Once you turned everything off and pulled up the latest video you had been editing, the notification ding distracted you away from your computer. For the second time in the day, you stared in disbelief at a Twitter notification.
Dream - Hey, I would really like to 1v1 you some time. I have been watching your content for a while now and I am a huge fan of what you make. Let me know when you want to do the 1v1. We can do it for a stream or a video. It's you to you :)
You - It means so much to me that you have been liking my content, I am a huge fan of yours as well. I am honestly free pretty much whenever. I need to make a new video so if you want to record a couple of rounds of pvp and maybe some bedwars with me then I can upload it to my channel.
Dream - Yeah that sounds good, I am actually free right now if you wanna hop on Hypixel and record now?
You - Yeah that sounds good I just sent you a discord friend request.
Your hands were practically shaking as you booted Minecraft back up. Dream was going to make a video with you. You were going to play with Dream. Your anxiety was only heightened when Dream accepted your friend request and added you into a VC. You took a slow breath and clicked on the VC and joined.
“H-hello,” You stuttered out softly as you tried to calm your nerves.
“Hey! Sorry if this seems out of the blue I really have been a fan for a while and I thought a 1v1 challenge would be fun,” Dream said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice.
“It’s fine, I just didn’t expect it. Like I said, I’m a huge fan so I’m just a bit shocked,” You chuckled a little feeling your nerves relax, “I’m on Hypixel now if you wanna get on, I say we do some 1v1s first.”
“Sounds good, are you recording now?” Dream asked as you glanced down at your recording software.
“Yep, but don’t worry I’ll send you the video before I post it so you can make sure you don’t mind any clips that I add,” you said as his character in the game ran towards you.
“You ready?” Dream asked with a smirk in his voice.
“Don’t get cocky yet green man, you’re going down,” You quipped back.
You and Dream 1v1ed a total of 11 times with Dream winning 6 and you winning the other 5.
“I told you not to be too cocky,” you giggled as he yelled about how you had managed to beat him 5 whole times.
“No! I only challenged you because I thought I would destroy you,” He said jokingly with a loud laugh accompanying the statement.
You laughed as well before rolling your eyes, “I told you not to get too cocky Dream, now let’s play some bedwars because I am going to destroy you.”
Dream scoffed a little and joined the party you had created. The beginning had been a little awkward but now the two of you were slowly falling into a rhythm. You started to feel more and more comfortable with the man and the teasing had only been heightened. The taunts during the bedwars game had both of you in stitches with Dream’s iconic kettle laugh only making you laugh that much harder.
“Oh sorry did my beauty distract you?” You laughed as you watched Dream fall off of his bridge.
“Oh shut up,” Dream countered weakly which only served to make you laugh that much harder.
The two of you ended up playing 4 rounds of Bedwars with Dream winning only a single round. He had raged for a few minutes after you had finished up the final round.
“Sorry Dream but Bedwars is my territory. You should have known better than to play with me,” You said with a huge smile.
“Oh come on, you were definitely using hacks. That was like a 1 in 7.5 trillion chance,” Dream said which sent you and consequently him into a fit of laughter.
“You’re so stupid,” You said with a smile before turning off the recording software. “Thank you for playing with me today, it’s always good to help people practice their bedwars skills.”
“You’re so annoying,” Dream whined before chuckling softly. “But yeah I had a really good time today, we definitely need to do this again.”
2K notes · View notes
levi-txliesiin · 3 years
Text
the aftermath of 'i love you.'
this is the sequel to my fic how kaz would react to 'i love you.' which was basically all angst. spoiler alert: this is all angst, too.
pairing: kaz brekker/reader but not exactly (??) cause they've broken up so uh
rating: teen
word count: 1.5k (rounded up)
summary: what happened after you said 'i love you,' to kaz
tags: gender neutral!reader, angst, unhappy ending
warnings: swearing, self-deprecating thoughts, and i think that's it? but pls lmk if anything else is needed
read on ao3
a/n: the writing quality of this really went 📉📈📉 but in my defense i wrote most of this while my brother watched tommy innit videos at full volume so ofc i was distracted.
and fyi muzzen is not an oc, he's one of the minor minor characters in soc!
once again, feedback and reblogs are appreciated! hope you enjoy reading <3
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Kaz's pov
He watched you from the other side of the room as you blatantly flirted with Muzzen. He had his glass of kvas (Jesper had begged for the club to order the ravkan mead for weeks) in a death grip. You ran your fingers through your hair, and smiled at something Muzzen had said. He tugged lightly on the collar of your jacket, making you laugh softly. Kaz's heart tightened, jealousy settling in his chest.
You looked happy, even as you conversed with the brainless bodyguard who probably couldn't count up to ten. Kaz hadn't been able to make you happy like that. But you had loved him anyway, and he had 'fucked you over', as you'd put it.
I love you.
You're a coward, Brekker.
Kaz let out something in between a sigh and a frustrated grunt. He drained the rest of his drink in one go, and set the glass down more violently than he'd intended. His scowl deepened, if that were even possible, when he sensex Inej slide into the seat next to him. He waited for her to speak, because he sure as hell wasn't going to initiate the conversation. What was there to say? You and him were over. And it was all his fault. 
"Kaz," Inej said. Her tone of voice was gentle - too gentle. He didn't want to be pitied, for fuck's sake. 
"What is it, Inej?" he snapped. 
"Tell me what happened between you and Y/n."
"Nothing to tell." He shrugged. 
Annoyance flickered over her face. "I care about you both, you know," she said. "I don't like seeing you two like this."
He gave her a withering look, if only to disguise the ugly feeling that flared up within him at her words. 
Don't care about me.
Don't love me.
You can't.
Kaz bit the inside of his cheek and hung his head. He studiously ignored Inej for a solid minute. At some point, he noticed that you and Muzzen had abandoned your corner table, most likely to go suck each other's faces off. The thought sent jolts of jealousy through his heart. 
"For Saint's sake- did she break your heart? Is that it?" she demanded, apparently having had enough of his silence.
He 'tsked' in annoyance, standing up abruptly. He snatched up his cane. "Maybe I broke hers," he muttered before walking off. He didn't want to answer questions today. Or ever.
Inej didn't follow him, and he was thankful for that. He trudged up the stairway, the rickety steps creaking under his weight. Emotions swirled within him, brewing up a storm. It was just a matter of time before he exploded, because as much as he hated to admit it, he was still human. Especially when it came to you. 
You had been one of the first people to see his humanity, and the last thing he wanted was to become another monster in your life.
But then again, maybe it was too late.
Suddenly, he bumped into someone. He hissed, flinching backwards. "Watch it-," his next words died on his tongue when he looked up, and came face to face with you. For a few, painfully awkward moments, the two of you held eye contact. Your face was stony, but your e/c eyes betrayed some kind of emotion that Kaz couldn't be bothered to decipher right now.
"Sorry, Brekker," you apologised. Your tone was flat. "C'mon, Muzzen," you gestured for him to follow you back down with a jerk of your head.
His hand twitched at his side as you left, almost as if his body yearned for your presence. Your shoulders nearly touched - missing each other by less than a centimetre. He couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. 
Letting out another sharp breath, Kaz resumed the walk back to his room. His footsteps grew quicker and more urgent. Your name echoed in his mind, as well as the three words that had haunted him for days now. 
Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
He slammed the door behind him when he finally reached his quarters. His cane fell to the floor, although his gloves stayed on. He stumbled into the cramped bathroom, bracing two hands against the rusty sink. He twisted the tap open, ignoring the squeak of the old mechanism that would have otherwise annoyed him. A gentle stream of water flowed from the tap head, and he splashed some on his face. 
No, he thought stubbornly, I am not going to break down because of Y/n.
The despair that rattled inside of him said otherwise.
f only he had reacted better when you'd told him you loved him. If only he hadn't yelled at you and called you all those horrible things that weren't true about you in the slightest. You weren't selfish at all. You were the exact opposite. You were kind, and thoughtful, and understanding - so, so understanding of him and his endless baggage. And he had- he had ruined it all, because of his own cowardice.
You're a coward, Brekker.
I know, he thought, not for the first time. I'm sorry. 
· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·
Your pov
"I- I'm sorry, Muzzen, but I think I'm gonna turn in for the night," you said to the bodyguard, smiling sheepishly. "I've got a bit of a headache."
"It's alright," he said, giving a half-hearted smile back. It was clear he didn't believe you. You didn't know if that was because your acting skills weren't as up to par as you thought, or because the bodyguard was smarter than you made him out to be.
You all but ran up the stairs, nearly sagging in relief as the door closed behind you. You suddenly couldn't stand the feeling of the fabric of your coat on your skin and shrugged it off; Kaz had bought it for you, because of course the reminder of him lingered everywhere you went.
Your room wasn't anywhere near big, but it was a good way away from Kaz's, and for the first time, you were grateful for that. You couldn't deal with him at the moment.
Wait, no, that came out wrong. It wasn't him specifically that you couldn't deal with, it was the bad memories (or, rather, memory, as there was one key shitshow that had ruimed everything) that came with him.
Oh, Saints, why, why, why had you told him you loved him? Things had been going so well! And then you- you fucked it up. Yes, you had blatantly blamed this on Kaz the day of the argument, but deep down, you knew you were the one at fault. 
Your heart ached every time you thought of him. You missed Kaz. So, so much. It hadn't escaped you how he had been eyeing you and Muzzen earlier in the evening. You could only hope that he was staring out of jealousy, and not devising some foolproof plan to get rid of you.
What would it take for Kaz to forgive you? Or had you fucked things up beyond repair? 
"Shit," you whispered, leaning your head against the wall. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. "Shit." You didn't know what exactly was 'shit'. Maybe the decision you came to moments later.
I'm going to apologise to him," you said to your empty room. "I will."
With a sniffle, you cracked open your door and slipped back outside. You had left your coat in a pile on the floor, making you vulnerable to the cold that pierced the empty areas of the Crow Club. Your feet carried you to Kaz's room naturally. You barely had to think about where you were going. Instead, you thought of Kaz himself. 
Kaz. Your fallen angel, you used to call him in your mind. You couldn't express how sorry you were. You didn't even know what you were sorry for. Loving him? Loving him, and saying it aloud? Loving him, and saying it aloud, because you were so sure he felt the same way? 
You had been being selfish. Kaz said so himself. Selfish and stupid. Of course Kaz didn't love you.
At last, you were in front of his door. You raised a fist to knock. Opened your mouth to call out. Except you did none of those. You just stood there, tears welling up in your eyes once again, a familiar pang of sadness in your chest. 
He wouldn't want to see you. How could he? This was your fault, wasn't it? It was your selfishness, and your wishful thinking that had gotten you two into this position. You missed him, but you wouldn't go as far as to think he missed you, too. If you attempted to apologise… would it really be for him? 
You wouldn't be selfish. Not again.
"I'm sorry," you whispered. 
You turned around, and walked away. 
226 notes · View notes
tobesolonely · 3 years
Text
queen anne’s coffee
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A/N: hello everyone! I am not D/deaf or Hard of Hearing. However, this was requested more than once I wanted to do my best to provide. In this story, Y/N is a part of the Deaf community. if I have misrepresented the Deaf community in any way or wrote something inaccurate or offensive, then please DO NOT hesitate to let me know (respectfully, of course!) i wanted to fulfill this person’s request and be as inclusive as i could, as i don’t typically see stories with a Deaf!reader. shes short and sweet but i hope you all enjoy anyway! as always, feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated! :)
Summary: Y/N visits Harry’s coffee shop every Tuesday and Thursday and always orders the same thing. Harry HAS to get to know her!!!
word count: ~1.7k
my ko-fi! thank you :)
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
Every Tuesday and Thursday at exactly 3:50 PM, Y/N placed an online order that consisted of an iced chai tea latte with oat milk and a butter croissant from Harry’s coffee shop, Queen Anne’s Coffee.
Y/N never forgot to add, “warmed up pls! thank you :)” in the section for comments, and she always tipped. She would then come into Harry’s shop approximately ten minutes later, walk up to the ‘pickup’ counter, grab her items, smile at Harry, and promptly leave. Harry never even so much as said hello to her, but he was irrevocably captivated––even if she was a complete stranger.
Harry decided that when Y/N came in today for her usual, he’d finally talk to her.
Business had been unusually slow for a Thursday afternoon but Harry didn’t mind–when Y/N came in, he’d be able to have a proper chat with her without having to rush the conversation along to help other customers. His gaze kept floating up to the cat-shaped clock hanging above the door, anxiously awaiting 3:50 PM when Y/N’s order would come through on the iPad and he got to read the words, “warmed up pls! thank you :)”
Harry didn’t know why he was so nervous to speak to her. As the owner of his very own coffee shop (and it’s only employee), he got to know the people who came in regularly well, even developing genuine friendships with some. It bothered Harry that this beautiful person gave him business two days a week and the only thing he knew about her was her name, which is only because he can see it when she places her order online.
When the iPad Harry keeps plugged up atop the counter chimes, he doesn’t even have to glance at it to know it was Y/N but he does anyway, feelings of excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He was finally going to talk to her! Harry contemplates scribbling his number on the side of her cup as he’s writing her name but decides against it, not wanting to be too forward before they even formally meet.
When Y/N comes in ten minutes later, Harry can immediately sense something is wrong. She hardly looks up once as she shuffles from the door to the counter, hoodie pulled up and drawn tight over her head.
“Are you okay?”
Y/N doesn’t look up or even acknowledge the fact that Harry spoke. Even though there’s only two other people in the shop besides them, Harry figures she might think he was talking to someone else and addresses her by name.
“Y/N?”
She still doesn’t address Harry as she gives him a small smile before hurriedly exiting the shop, the bell above the door signaling her exit.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
When Tuesday comes, Harry’s out of bed before his alarm jolts him from his dreams.
He thought about Y/N all weekend as he impatiently awaited Tuesday’s arrival, excited over the prospect of finally seeing her again. He hoped she was doing better today than she was last week, and he really hoped she was in the mood to chat with him today.
Harry’s grateful the shop is busy today. It helps to keep his mind off of Y/N, and his eyes off the clock. When the iPad chimes at 3:50 on the dot, Harry decides he’ll wait until she comes in to prepare her order. It didn’t take him over two minutes, anyway. He figures this will give him a bit more time to chat with her, at least say hello and see if she’s doing better.
Much to his pleasure, Y/N has a big smile on her face when she bursts through the door ten minutes later. She floats to the pickup counter, then furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she looks up at Harry.
“Sorry, I’m working on your order right now,” Harry grabs a purple marker off the counter, scribbling Y/N’s name on the cup used for iced drinks. “How’s your day so far?”
Harry watches as Y/N cocks her head to the side in confusion, then pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She quickly types something before holding her phone out for Harry to take.
“I can’t hear you! I’m Deaf.”
A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he reads what she said. He now understood why Y/N didn’t answer him when he tried speaking to her last week, and he’s secretly relieved that she wasn’t ignoring him because she hated him or anything like that.
“I know a bit of sign!” Harry types before handing Y/N back her phone. He watches as her eyes skim his words and she looks up, a toothy grin plastered on her face.
“Great! This is much faster.” Her hands move quickly as she signs. “Did my order work or not? Wi-Fi is bad at home today.”
Harry realizes he doesn’t know as much sign language as he thought he did.
“OK. I am rusty.”
Y/N smiles at this and pulls her phone back out, typing what she just signed to him before passing it back to him. A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he learns she was just asking if her order came through alright, seeing as it was not yet ready. Too embarrassed to tell her he intentionally waited until she arrived to prepare her order, he just nods.
“I’ll have it ready in no more than two minutes… and refund you, too. I’m sorry for the wait.” Harry looks up at Y/N as he passes the phone to her, eyes not leaving her face as he tries to gauge her reaction.
“No!” Her head shakes as she signs. “Happy to pay. Thank you.”
Harry understands Y/N but refunds her, anyway.
. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
“Why do you always come Tuesday and Thursday? Same time?”
“Exams every Tuesday and Thursday.” The look of obvious dissatisfaction on Y/N’s face makes Harry laugh. “Your chai and pastries cheer me up after.”
Harry’s face turns red at Y/N’s admittance, so he instead looks down, pretending he’s distracted by something on the iPad. He decides at that moment that he will no longer charge Y/N for her oat milk latte and croissant. She was a college student after all––if her financial situation was like Harry’s in any way when he was in college earning his business degree, it would probably be beneficial for her to save her money, anyhow.
Ever since Harry and Y/N’s first real interaction, Y/N had been coming into Queen Anne’s nearly every day, school supplies and laptop in tow. She always sat at the table closest to the front counter, directly in Harry’s line of vision so they could sign to each other.
Y/N provided Harry with some much needed (and enjoyed) company when business was slow, and she was helping him brush up on his sign language. Harry learned that Y/N is Deaf; her hearing is completely gone in her left ear and almost completely gone in the right. She’s the only person in her family who is Deaf. She also hated eggs, is lactose intolerant (hence the oat milk), has two older siblings, is a master’s student, and a plethora of other things that Harry had committed to memory.
“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy.”  
“Who is A-N-N-E?”
Harry grins. “My mother. Back in London.”
Y/N’s eyes widen. “London? Amazing! You must have an accent.”
It dawns on Harry that Y/N has never heard his voice before. “Yes. Are you from here?” Y/N nods in response.
“Whole life. Small town, but it’s home.” Her pinched hand moves quickly from her mouth up to her ear.
“Sorry. What?”
“H-O-M-E.”
A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he nods in response, signaling for Y/N to give him a moment as the bell above the entrance jingles. It seems as if the few people who walk through the door act as a catalyst for others to enter, and soon Queen Anne’s is at maximum occupancy and Harry is trying to make several drinks at once while taking orders. He locks eyes with Y/N a few times and she gives him a sympathetic look, not able to do much to help him out.
Harry decides that once business dies back down, he’ll find out if Y/N is interested in a part-time job.
⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
Y/N was interested in a part-time job.
She was a fast learner and a hard worker. Harry was more than delighted to show her how to make every drink on the menu, and consume her failed attempts. It was nice having someone else behind the counter with him––he wished he’d gone about hiring someone to help him much sooner, but he was glad to now have Y/N by his side.
“So much chai! I thought only I drank this stuff.”
Harry’s gaze lingers on Y/N for a beat too long, causing her to shift slightly. Harry’s hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “Yes. I like chai. With milk.” His hand forms a ‘C’ then closes to form an ‘S’ twice for the word “milk”.
“Regular?” One of Y/N’s eyebrows raises as she asks her question, setting a hot chai latte atop the “pickup” counter.
“S-O-Y.”
Y/N lets out a quiet snort of laughter as she shakes her head. It was the first time Harry ever made her laugh out loud. After hearing her laugh once, he never wanted to stop––it was music to his ears. “Not surprised!”
Harry’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Why?” His eyes remain on Y/N as she walks around the small area, cleaning up a small coffee spill she had earlier.
“You just are a S-O-Y boy, H. My S-O-Y boy!”
Harry’s cheeks immediately turn pink as they did the first time Y/N said something that flustered him, but he doesn’t look away.
“You’re my O-A-T girl.”
⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .
Thank you everyone for reading!!! This is only the beginning of Y/N and Harry I think <33
597 notes · View notes
Text
Fully Completely 1
Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), attempted violence, mutual irritation.
This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.
Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones
Note: I did not plan to get the first part done so soon. I will probably be setting time aside as I write this to also work on some original stuff. When it comes to that, I’d love if y’all might let me know what you think would be a better medium to release it? Kindle, Patreon, etc. I’m really not sure but if it was Patreon it would like be two series running at once with a chapter of each a month + Q&A and maybe some bonus materials? I am a noob at this shit and it wouldn’t be for a while yet.
Anyways, I’m rambling...
Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)
I really hope you enjoy. 💋
<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!
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Chapter 1: She simply slammed the door
💀💀💀
The garage smelled like oil and snow. The cold air seeped under the closed metal door as you sat on the low stool and affixed the new headlight to the propped up Harley. It was only the start of an impractical rebuild; your brother wanted everything metal replaced with chrome. You thought it was obnoxious but the parts were paid for and you could never complain for money.
You were funded exclusively by the town’s club, your garage not far from The Asp where the members hung out and revved the engines you found yourself looking at more often than you liked. You were good at what you did though and privileged for it. You had the protection of the club without having to devote yourself truly to its bounds.
You checked the wiring and rolled away from the bike to change the station as the radio crackled. The snow kept setting the speaker to static and the noise was driving you mad. You flipped the switch to play the cassette stuck in the drawer, the old stereo beaten up and filthy. Springsteen’s gristled tones filled the shop and you wheeled back to your brother’s ride.
With the storm would no doubt come more work. Your fingerless gloves itched more than they kept you warm. Your fingertips were numb as you touched the frigid metal and the sweat of your palms made the fabric uncomfortable. You were used to it, rather tolerant as your task kept you distracted.
You were interrupted as you bent to look under the tank and get a good look at the exhaust and the rest of the beast’s entrails. You had the new pieces still wrapped and didn’t intend to do it all at once. Jerome could wait for his tacky redesign.
A loud banging came at the metal door and you glanced over in irritation. Anyone in Birch knew to come in the painted door to the left and not hit the large one. You huffed and stood with a groan, your hips sore from the low stool. 
You fixed the front of your fleece-lined denim jacket and pulled the tail of your plaid shirt from inside your jean pocket. You’d been hunched over so long you were all wrinkled. You went past the large door and into the small entryway off the left of the garage and opened it with a tinkle of the rusty old bell above.
You stuck your head out into the gales as the snow continued to fall and squinted at the man in his thin jacket. He stood beside the long luxury car as another man with wild orange hair remained in the driver’s seat and blew into his hands. They were out of place in the small town and you could tell by the way the man scowled at the door that he knew it.
“Hey,” you called to them, “there’s a place down the street. I don’t do walk-ins.”
“Oh, hello, Miss…” he let his voice trail off as he neared and you stared at him rather than provide your name. His accent, his attire, the curl of his lip, it was clear what he thought of you and the bodunk town, “actually I was referred by an acquaintance. One, James Barnes.”
“Bucky?” you furrowed your brow.
“Mm, yes, that one,” he said, “my car will need detailing. We had some difficulties on the motorway.”
“Right,” you tried not to scowl, “well, if he sent you, I guess I can help.”
You left him and the door clattered behind you. He followed a few steps after as you went to the switch and pushed it to raise the wide door of the garage. You waved in the driver of the car and he carefully pulled in beside your brother’s bike. 
He got out and you were surprised by his size, he was taller even then his companion and wider; neither could be described as short. You lowered the door as the thinner man walked along the shelves and the long table along the other side of the garage. The bigger man stood by the car and tucked his hands in his pockets.
“Not much better in here than out there,” the dark-haired man turned back to you, “you have heat in here?”
“You need a better coat,” you said as you rounded the back of the car, “and some boots.”
You glanced pointedly at his leather shoes and bent to reach under the table. You pulled out the space heater and plugged it in as you set on the wood. You cranked it up and smiled at him tritely.
“So, what’s the damage?” you asked as you looked to the other man.
“Headlight, maybe,” he said in a peculiar accent, “some scratches. We had a bit off a run-in.”
You neared and bent to examine the front of the car. You sighed as you tilted your head and clicked your tongue. It was easy enough to beat out the dents and buff out the scratches with a quick refinish. The headlight would need to be replaced and you knew they didn’t carry anything for that model in town. No one there was pretentious enough to drive it.
“If you want the headlight done before you leave town, it’ll take some time to get the replacement,” you warned.
“Oh, and how do you know I’m leaving?” he taunted coyly.
“Well, I know you’re definitely not sticking around,” you scoffed.
“Why wouldn’t I? A quaint place like this, I’m sure there is so much to explore,” he said dryly.
You had no delusions of what Birch was but it wasn’t the part of outsiders to deride the dead end. You stood straight and put your hands on your hips.
“You can go back to your castle, my lord, but you will have to wait out the storm,” you sneered. “Two days for the scratches. If you want to take it back after that and wait for the headlight to arrive, that’s fine with me.”
“Two days for the scratches? Surely you could do it before the morning,” the black-haired man insisted.
“I could but I have other work to do,” you replied, “so you can be patient and take your turn in line after all the hicks who live here.”
You went back to the table and grabbed your phone from where you tossed it earlier. You unlocked it and searched the model of his car and scrolled through the parts list. 
“You’re Bucky’s guest so I’ll send the bill to him?” you asked, “though you do look to be able to afford it yourself.”
“You can invoice him directly,” he assured, “so you’re one of them?”
“One of them?” you repeated as you focused on checking out. The damn internet kept cutting in and out.
“My brother, those men in this town, I never knew a woman--”
“I’m not a biker. My brother is in the club,” you assured him, “so that big blond dope, he’s your brother?”
“Regrettably, yes,” he slithered, “Loki Odinson,” he introduced himself as he rubbed together his hands, the leather gloves doing little to protect his fingers, “my driver is Korg, and you’ve yet to tell me with whom I am trusting my property.”
“Again, there is a shop down the street. Prices aren’t bad,” you finished up your purchase and tucked your phone in your jacket pocket.
He met your eyes as you turned to him and he looked down his nose. You kept on and brushed past him as you went back around the car and sat by your brother’s bike.
“Sorry about the boss,” the other man, Korg, intoned, “he can be a bit--”
“Don’t apologise for me,” Loki snipped, “I needn’t atone to her.”
You rolled your eyes and wheeled around the side of the bike, “if that’s everything, you two can head back out. I’ll let you know when the car’s ready.”
“We might wait for the snow to calm,” Loki suggested.
“I close in an hour, you’re not staying here all night,” you sniffed.
“Trust me, I have no special desire to spend more time with you than necessary,” he retorted, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman so volatile as you, dear, and I’ve only just met you. I never expected you people to have very many manners but perhaps what I did presume was too much.”
You bared your teeth but kept at your work. You would worry about kicking him out when you finished the wiring.
“To be fair, had you not spoken first, I might’ve assumed you were a man,” he added.
You paused and glanced down at the open tool box. You weren’t unused to the comments, you weren’t girly in any way but it wasn’t like you were trying to be a man. You wore what was comfortable and in your work, practicality prevailed over aesthetic. Yet, your years of ridicule as a kid made you less tolerant of the comments and those had stopped long ago because you made sure they did.
“Oh, darling, have I upset you?”
“Don’t call me that,” you said as you reached into the toolbox.
“Well, you’ve not given your name and I’d hate call you what I truly think of you--”
The wrench flew from your hand as you stood and spun to him. It barely missed his head and bounced off the wall and plunked onto the table beside the heater. His eyes rounded and the other man looked at him. There was a thick silence as you glared at him.
“If you weren’t a friend of Bucky’s, I wouldn’t’ve missed,” you hissed, “now I will kindly, before I reach for a bigger wrench, ask you to leave.”
He pushed his shoulders back and tilted his head as his lips thinned dangerously. He swallowed and beckoned the other man with two fingers. His cheek twitched as if he would grin and he nodded subtly.
“Well, darling, how amusing you are. These brutes must adore you,” he snarled, “the exterior does indeed say it all.”
You bent and reached for another tool blindly. He blinked and quickly dodged as you flung the next wrench and he followed his henchman to the entryway. Your temper was a match for many men. It kept you safe.
“Barnes did not say his mechanic was a madwoman,” Loki called back as the bell rang.
“What, are you going to tattle on me?” You stormed towards the doorway, “you precious little princess?”
“Princess?” he met you in the doorway as Korg behind him held the door open and the snow blustered in, “I know Barnes will do me no other favours, but do you think he’ll do you any?”
“Get out,” you spat and shoved him, “I don’t need men to take care of me and I have no problem in proving that.”
He bit the inside of his lip in a crooked smirk and winked before he turned away and strutted out into the snow, shielding his face from the wild winds. Korg trailed behind him and the door sprang back into the frame. You crossed your arms and glared at the peeling paint. 
You were tempted to tow his car out and let it weather the storm but you were smarter than that. If he was doing business with Bucky, you would be a fool to get in the way of it. 
💀
The snow dwindled to a lazy dusting, the ground thick and treacherous. That day, you started early and around noon, you headed across the street to the diner for your usual lunch of a club sandwich and black coffee. You didn’t have to order as all the waitresses knew what to expect. You weren’t unfriendly but your association made many standoffish.
You tapped on the lip of your mug with your thumb, fingers hooked through the handle. The sleepy town felt dead in the winter. You were used to the dullness of Birch but tolerance was hardly happiness. It was home, where you’d grown up and you had no certain desire to get out, but you wouldn’t mind a little more than what was expected.
You yawned and gulped down the last of your coffee. It was bitter and left a few grounds on your tongue. You leaned back and grabbed the monthly newsletter from between the salt and pepper shakers. You read through the fun facts which weren’t very fun or even new. They were copy and pasted out Guinness and Reader’s Digest.
You looked up as you sensed someone approach your table but it wasn’t the waitress. The man from the day before slid coolly onto the seat across from you at the booth and smirked over the table. You raised the newsletter again and folded it backwards to read about the weekly knitting circle down at the rec center that was also the library.
“Good afternoon to you too,” Loki said, “it must be fortune I ran into you, I was hoping to inquire after my car--”
“I told you, two days,” you said tersely as you continued onto your horoscope …‘a new force will bring change’... You hated this tripe. You swore, every month they just switched the blurbs under each sign and hit print.
“So be it,” he cleared his throat and you lowered the paper as he shrugged out of his jacket.
“What are you doing? I eat my lunch alone,” you said.
“Well, to be frank, I was pointed here on the promise of some famous cabbage soup,” he explained as he folded his jacket over the seat next to him, “you looked like you needed company.”
“I don’t,” you assured him.
Kimmie came over and set down your sandwich. She greeted Loki and you saw the way she eyed his tailored suit. He stuck out in the town of flannels and denim.
“Hello, sir, can I get you something to drink?” she asked.
“Tea, English breakfast,” he ordered smoothly.
“Oh, sorry, we only have um, um, sorry, peppermint, earl grey, ginger lemon, and green,” she listed off as she tried to remember them all.
“Earl grey,” he sighed, “and a menu.”
“No, no menu,” you insisted, “and you can take his tea to another table.”
“And when we’re through, I’ll take the cheque,” he ignored you and snickered under his breath.
“Kimmie, can I get a to go box?” you asked as you shimmied off the seat and snatched up your coat, “I have to get back to work.” You took out your wallet and counted out the usual amount plus a tip, “thanks.”
“Of course,” she smiled awkwardly and glanced between you and Loki.
She scooped your sandwich back up and scurried away with it. You felt him watching you as you walked away and went to stand by the till as you watched Nora flit into the kitchen. She packed up your food and returned with the box. You took it and headed for the door, ignoring the arrogant out-of-towner on your way.
“Wait,” Kimmie called out your name and you turned back as she held up your keys, “you dropped these.”
You met her halfway and took them from her with a mutter. Again, he was watching you… or still watching you. She spun and promised she’d have his tea shortly.
“Hmm,” he hummed and you head to the door again, “interesting, I never would have put the name to the face.”
You pushed out into the snow and gritted your teeth. You thought of getting the work on his car out of the way quickly so he would leave you alone but your spite made you want to put it off entirely. Whatever. He’d be gone soon enough.
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