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isuckatwritingsobenice · 3 months

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Infernal Shadows 03

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it. Carmilla and Velvet feud because I also live for that. I also really favor Zestial for some reason as a calm mediator.

Song for this chapter: Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61

A/N: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback & feedback in general on the last two posts!! I really didn’t think this would catch so much attention but I’m so glad people like it. For some reason Tumblr’s being weird and doesn’t want to let me tag certain people, I don’t know why but if anyone does please let me know because I really don’t like that ;/ But I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Please note that some blogs cannot be tagged, so I recommend checking this post and to check your settings to make sure I can tag you! If anything I can always just message you when the next chapter comes out, and yes I am making this series longer :) it’ll also be posted on my Wattpad soon!

Word count: 3890

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @iaaeav @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @pretty-puppy-stuffies @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @lunalixya

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part two. // Part four.

Engaging with guests throughout the night had become an exhausting endeavor, and a part of you yearned for the solace of your absence. Nevertheless, you maintained the façade, acknowledging every sinner whose smile dripped with crimson mischief. Having greeted each guest, you discreetly slipped into a shadowed corner, your shadows enveloping your figure quickly, seamlessly disappearing from the expansive room in mere seconds and emerging into an intimate gazebo outside, meticulously arranged beneath the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, you marveled at its unique ambiance. Unlike the earthly counterparts that stood white, the willow in your realm bore a deep crimson hue, its leaves adorned with a subtle, luminous sheen. A gentle smile graced your lips as you leaned against the sturdy black iron railing, delicately cradling a piece of the weeping willow between your fingertips. In the distance, the grand mansion hosting the gala loomed, its opulence contrasting with the simplicity of your secluded retreat. Despite the awareness of etiquette dictating against leaving guests unattended, the need for a mental break led you to this haven, a safe space for you. Reflecting, you acknowledged a desire for better preparation and rehearsal with the shadows, realizing the repetitiveness of conversations with the familiar sinners had rendered the night somewhat lackluster. It almost felt like you had come out of hiding for nothing. Quite the disappointment.

You sigh, massaging your temples, the lace fabric on your fingertips only slightly soothing the growing headache. However, not too far behind, you hear the sound of soft grass. You straighten up and turn around, seeing none other than your long time friend Zestial, who just smiled, nodding at you.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial inquired, standing by your side with his back against the railing. You resumed your original position, taking a moment to appreciate his father. Mentally noting how much of your grandfather Zestial reminded you of, you kept the sentiment unspoken.

Tonight, Zestial adorned himself in an outfit resonant with his time period, preserving his distinctive color scheme. A dark, meticulously tailored coat with lime green accents draped over his slender frame, capturing the essence of his demonic class. The cloak, adorned with lime green spider webs, unveiled a mesmerizing display when unfurled—his lime green eyes radiating, the upper pair embellished with vivid red irises. Instead of the customary big top hat, Zestial selected a smaller, more appropriate hat with a touch of flair. Dark as the shadows you command, it featured a light grey patch at the front and was finished with a grey-colored skull and a lime green and red-striped feather on the right side, adding a distinctive touch that mirrored his nature.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial repeated, shifting toward you a bit. Yet you resumed your original position, savoring the quiet ambiance before finally answering him. “What shall we discourse upon during our repast this eventide?” Zestial asked. Though his wording occasionally posed a challenge for others, having grown up in a family of eloquent speakers, you easily deciphered his intent. Something he truly appreciated. Though he was learning to speak more ‘modern’, or as modern as he could be.

“Quite unsure of that. Everything is changing, and I fear I might be left behind,” you expressed bluntly. Zestial sighed in response, a mix of understanding and concern evident in his lime green eyes.

“Madame, thou art timeless,” Zestial said with a bow, his cup proofing into smoke. “I pray thee, vex not thyself o’er so trivial a matter,” he added, his words resonating with both reassurance and genuine care.

You nodded, handing him a card. His surprised expression upon finding two cards instead of one didn’t escape you. “What manner of thing is this?” Zestial inquired, prompting you to summon a shadow for yourself, knowing he would find his own means back to the Gala.

“Carmilla. I am no fool to the both of you,” you said, amusement coloring your words as Zestial shook his head.

“Thou dost astonish me on every occasion,” Zestial remarked, standing by your side as you walked into your portal. Two seats vanished, leaving four empty seats at your table and six occupied.

In your study, you floated scripts in front of you, checking off names on the table list for tonight. With a few overlords left to choose from, Alastor and Charlotte secured seats based on trust and connections. Vox, Zestial, and Carmilla, an unspoken but potent couple, promised intrigue. Reconsidering Velvet for her potential devolution, you weighed each decision with strategic acumen.

Valentino, the Von Eldritch twins, and other weaker options were dismissed, maintaining a careful balance of power and influence. As you weigh the option of inviting Rosie to the gathering, her unpredictable nature adds a layer of excitement and potential surprise to the upcoming discussions. However, this unpredictability could also introduce challenges, creating an air of uncertainty around her contributions. Hopefully with Alastor around, she’d feel more inclined to behave. You check her name off the list.

In considering Stolas, the Goetia prince, his personal issues and tarnished reputation pose significant hurdles. Divorcing from his wife, sleeping with an imp for fun, as well as losing control of his daughter on Earth, it all seemed too risky to get involved with. While his wisdom and influence could contribute positively, the shadows of his struggles may complicate the dynamics, stirring potential conflicts and requiring delicate handling. Someone might get out of line with a comment towards him. His power was incredibly useful, but not worth the risk.

Husk’s transformation from a former overlord to a bartender signals a decline in power and status. While his laid-back demeanor might bring a sense of unpredictability, his diminished influence raises questions about the relevance of his involvement in the current political landscape of hell. Though he was your friend, you needed to keep your reputation pristine.

As the you contemplate the overlords assets, a mix of excitement, caution, and uncertainty envelops the decision-making process. Each overlord’s potential positive contributions are balanced by the looming negatives.

“Madame?” One of your shadows materialized, prompting a nod for them to proceed. “There seems to be some trouble in the lobby between the guests. What would you like us to do?” it inquired. A grimace crossed your face, hoping the disturbance wouldn’t mar your night. “Let me handle it,” you declared, snapping your fingers, causing the script to vanish. The shadow nodded, blending back into a wall for you to step through.

Upon reappearing, you assumed the form of a taller shadow. The room surrounded by guests revealed Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla standing in the middle. Zestial, seemingly composed, stood close behind Carmilla, observing the situation. Carmilla appeared visibly upset, with Velvet in proximity, a pointed finger dropping as soon as she noticed your arrival. Alastor maintained his usual wide smile, though it bordered on the eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The scene unfolded, presenting a potential challenge to the serene atmosphere you aimed to maintain during the gala.

Everyone seemed to stop, slowly turning toward you to see your face. Except there was no expression, just the large shadow you had taken form of. In seconds the shadow disappeared, leaving you in the fog, the expression on your face anything but calm.

"Madame I-" Velvet began, but her words were halted by the sight of your lace glove, your hand rising to silence her. Approaching the overlords, you spoke with an air of cold authority.

"My quarters. Now," you commanded, and with a snap of your fingers, smoke enveloped your spot as you vanished. Shadows materialized around the overlords, guiding them to your quarters, leaving the stunned guests in the lobby.

"Well, that was interesting," Valentino remarked.

In your study, the overlords found you seated in your tall, black chair. Its ebony surface featured intricate carvings of black glass, elegant swirls, and patterns tailored to your essence, creating an atmosphere of undeniable authority and refinement.

"I hope you all had fun acting like children," you chided sternly. The overlords lined up, forming a unified front. Leaning against the right side of your chair, you crossed your legs, elbow on the armrest, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Annoyance laced your words as you questioned, "What did you feel the need to argue about now?" Before Velvet, Vox, and Carmilla could respond simultaneously, you halted them. "One at a time. I'd assume you all handle this like adults, if you even can." The tension in the room hung thick as the overlords awaited their turn to address your inquiry.

“She wants me at her table Vaggie! Me!” Charlotte said excitedly. Vagatha just smiled.

“That’s good! Now you can tell them about the hotel, and maybe someone will be interested.” Vagatha said, and Charlotte just nodded.

“Maybe they-“ Charlotte stopped, observing as people began to crowd around the center of the lobby. Charlotte and Vagatha stood from their spots at the bar to walk toward the center, where the overlords stood. Velvet and Vox were next to each other, while Carmilla, Alastor and Zestial were across. Carmilla and Velvet were face to face. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as Vagatha and her pushed their way through the crowds of people.

“Come on, Carmilla, always the mood-killer,” Velvet scoffed, a disrespectful tone tainting her words. Carmilla shot her a stern look, ready to assert her authority.

“Watch that tongue, Velvet. I will not let your insolence slide,” Carmilla retorted, attempting to rein in the escalating tension.

Vox, ever the smooth talker, chimed in, “Ladies, ladies, let’s not turn this into a drama fest. We’re all here for a reason.” Vox said, sternly giving a tight lipped smile to Velvet, silently telling her to keep her shit together.

Carmilla shot a glare at Velvet, who replied with a defiant smirk, “Drama or not, Vox, some of us aren’t here for the ballroom charm.”

Alastor, drawn to the brewing chaos, couldn’t resist adding his flair, “Well, well, a bit of spice never hurt a party, does it?”

Carmilla, unfazed by the chaos, spoke with a calm authority, “Velvet, your insolence is unnecessary. This is not a playground; it’s a gathering of overlords. Act accordingly.”

Velvet, seemingly undeterred, shot back with a dismissive laugh, “Poor Grandma, always trying to play the responsible one. Maybe loosen up a bit? Have a drink will you?”

Vox, ever the smooth talker, added with a slick comment, “Perhaps we can focus on the matters at hand. Save the theatrics for later ladies.”

Alastor, intrigued by the unfolding drama, simply grinned, “Oh the picture box has spoken! Quite intriguing.” The room continued to buzz with tension as each overlord, except Rosie, added their own flavor to the brewing turmoil. As the tension thickened, Vox, with a sly grin, couldn't resist adding his own slick comment to the mix.

"Ah, Alastor, the radio days were quaint, but it seems you're a bit outdated. Television is the future, perhaps you should tune in sometime," he quipped with a wink, the words delivered with a calculated smoothness. The room momentarily hung in a charged silence before the verbal sparring resumed, adding another layer to the complex interplay of personalities at the gala.

With Vox's comment about Alastor being outdated sinking in, the radio demon responded with a sly grin, sharp teeth on display, his eyes displays dials, as the rooms lights began to deepen, "Ah, Vox, your television endeavors are impressive, but remember, I'm not just audible; I'm unforgettable. A little screen time won't change that," he retorted, “This face was made for radio.” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side, a sharp snap in his neck, his words carrying a mix of amusement and confidence. The verbal exchange between the two overlords added another layer to the already charged atmosphere, each comment becoming a piece in the intricate puzzle of conflicts and egos at the gala.

“See what you did grandma, now you’ve got the two of them fighting.” Velvet said, pointing a finger into Carmella’s chest. She scoffed, shoving her away.

“Don’t you dare get disrespectful on me you brat.” Carmilla said, beginning to heat up with anger.

That's when Madame stepped in, reappearing in the form of a taller shadow, casting a lengthened silhouette in the room brimming with guests. Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla found themselves at the center of the unfolding tableau, and Zestial, seemingly composed, lingered just behind Carmilla, quietly observing the escalating drama. Carmilla's visage betrayed a hint of distress, her pointed finger lowering as she registered your reappearance. Alastor, with his trademark grin, bordered on eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The unfolding scene disrupted the serene atmosphere you had meticulously aimed to maintain during the gala, presenting an unexpected challenge.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward you, anticipating your reaction. However, your face remained expressionless, concealed within the depths of the large shadow you had taken form of. In mere seconds, the shadow dissipated, leaving you in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a storm brewed, ready to challenge the delicate balance of the evening.

Now, here you all were, sitting in the study after Carmilla had explained the situation.

“Madame, with all due respect,” Carmilla spoke, looking down. “I truly do not believe Velvet is mature enough to be at our table tonight.” Carmilla said.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” You asked sharply, to which Carmilla stiffened quickly, shaking her head then.

”No Madame, I would never-“

“Then do not say foolish things.” You said. Sighing, you shut your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. Tonight sensitive information would be revealed and Carmilla did have some point here. Velvet clearly could not hold her tongue.

”Vox, control your associate please, or you both will be cut from the dinner tonight.” You said finally, to which he nodded nervously.

“Of course Madame.” He said, nodding to you.

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, looking to Alastor.

“I want none of this technology talk either.” You spoke, staring at Alastor who just smiled with lidded eyes. You knew he was very much upset, but you had forbidden anyone to fight in your home, anyone but you of course. “You all will act like mature adults wether you like it or not. I am not your guardian, I should not be having this conversation with overlords who should know better.” You said, standing. ”Now, all of you, out.” You said, snapping your fingers. Quickly the shadows began to move, ushering everyone out of your study. Everyone except Carmilla. “Not you.” You said to her, Zestial nodding to you and her as he stepped out, giving you both privacy.

“Madame, I didn’t mean what I said-“ Carmilla said quickly. You waved her off, straightening yourself out.

“Nonsense Carmilla, I know you meant well.” You said with a stoic expression. You sit back down, crossing your legs and snapping your fingers to form a chair in front of your desk, ushering her to sit. “I wanted to speak to you about your weapons.” You stated. At this her eyes went wide, before dropping again.

“Oh, very well then. What would you like to know?” She asked. You grinned, before standing again.

“Well, how much would I need to give you for you to make me a personal bayonet?” You asked. She went silent for a moment, before answering.

“Nothing at all Madame.” She said, standing to look at you. “May I ask what for?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“No, just to have on display. I want a new one, the old one I have is quite out of style for me.” You replied. She just nodded, before you waved to her, sitting back down and summoning a script again. “You may go now, and please, do not argue with children.” You commented. She just smiled and nodded, leaving you to your own vices.

It was half-past eleven, five minutes till the midnight bells chime. Everyone in the lobby was beginning to get excited for the entertainment you had planned for the night. Oh, you knew you would not disappoint.

“Madame would like everyone to accompany her on a journey tonight. She has sent me to retrieve you all. She would like to formally welcome you to tonight’s entertainment.” The large shadow said, standing from the topic of the stairs. Behind it was a large portal. It stepped backwards, into the portal, and nodded for the guests to start coming through.

The custom-built coliseum stands as a testament to Madame's vision, a grand fusion of opulence and dark elegance. The circular structure boasts towering columns, but instead of conventional pillars, thick chains rise, intricately linked and serving as both ornamental decor and structural support. The arches, molded in black, curve gracefully around the circumference, evoking a Victorian Gothic aesthetic that permeates the entire venue.

Two larger-than-life statues of Madame herself flank the entrance, capturing her regal poise and adding a touch of imposing authority. The statues serve not only as decorative elements but as a representation of the gala's hostess, a constant presence overseeing the proceedings, she is always watching, all seeing, perfection.

The overall ambiance is one of grandeur and mystery, with the black molding on the arches casting shadows that play into the darker undertones. Every intricate detail, from the chains to the statues, contributes to the unique Victorian Gothic feel of the coliseum, matching Madame’s home perfectly, matching her perfectly. The venue, finally being unveiled to the guests, now welcomes them who are treated to an appetizer course, surrounded by the striking architecture and entertained within the darkly enchanting atmosphere Madame has meticulously crafted.

Numerous shadows, dark and formless, line the entrance walls, extending silent greetings to the arriving guests. Their presence adds an air of mystique and intrigue as they blend seamlessly with the Gothic architecture. As attendees make their way into the coliseum, these shadowy figures create an ethereal welcome, embodying the unique atmosphere of Madame's custom-built venue.

At a separate entrance reserved for the handpicked members of Madame's esteemed dinner table, a solitary shadow stands guard. This entrance, reserved for a select few, hints at the exclusivity and importance of those who will partake in the upcoming dinner. The shadowy sentinels serve not only as silent greeters but also as guardians of the event's secrets, casting an enigmatic allure over the gala.

A singular shadows escorts Charlotte, Alastor, and the rest of the overlords to the exclusive section, leading them to an elevator to bring them to the best seats in the coliseum. The elevator’s interior is a striking display of elegance, with white and black checkered flooring lending a timeless touch. The walls, enveloped in darkness, exude an air of mystery, while black, smokey glass engravings on the ceiling add intricate detailing that dances in the ambient light. Each number on the elevator, indicating the ascending levels, glows a vibrant red, creating a vivid contrast against the monochrome palette.

“Oh I’m so excited! What do you think we’re gonna see? Gladiators? Sinners fight? Oh actually I hope not, I don’t want people to die.” Charlotte said to Alastor. Carmilla just chuckled at her antics while Zestial eyed her with curiosity. Where did Alastor find such a girl and why the princess of all people?

The elevator stops at the top floor, revealing the opening in the middle, which was surprisingly covered with water.

“What is Madame playing at?” Carmilla questioned as the overlords sat in a row at the top. From there they could see everything and everyone.

“I am quite uncertain, yet my anticipation is stirred nonetheless.” Zestial said. The lights around began to dim, and shadows began to pour glasses of water in front of all the guests. Down in the middle of the coliseum was the tallest shadow, the one that seemed to be Madame’s favorite, since it always spoke for her.

“Greetings all. It is Madame’s pleasure to invite you all to the special entertainment tonight. Madame has put together some of hell’s finest performers for your entertainment tonight. I would like to present, preforming here tonight, The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra preforming Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61.” The shadow said with a bow, before it vanished just as quick as it came. Then, other shadows appeared, but this time they were different. They were people, performers, with clear outlined silhouettes, faces and expressions, even clothes.

“Hey, Al?” Charlotte asked, leaning over in her seat to Alastor. He let out a ‘hm?’ In response.

“Does Madame own those souls down there?” Charlotte whispered, but before Alastor could answer, a shadow had already cut in.

“Yes. All the shadows here, even yours, Madame owns.” The shadow said quietly, filling Charlotte’s glass cup with water. Charlotte nervously, perked up, but said nothing as she shadow carried on with it’s catering.

The ethereal notes of the music filled the air as the performance unfolded. Around the musicians stood ballet dancers, their movements a delicate poetry in motion. Clad in all black, the performers created a stark contrast to the dancers, who emerged with an otherworldly grace akin to figures rising from the depths of water. The dancers moved with an angelic fluidity, their forms intertwining seamlessly with the haunting melody, creating a mesmerizing tableau that captivated the audience. The visual symphony of black-clad musicians and the whisky-hued ballet dancers painted a scene of enchantment and mystery within the grand coliseum. Even down to the dancers, this had Madame written all over it.

Velvet's keen eye captured the essence of the dancers' ethereal movements on paper. With each stroke of her sketch, she depicted the dancers as if emerging from a watery abyss, the fog enveloping their feet creating an illusion of water flowing upward. The intricate details on her sketch paper brought to life the dancers' graceful forms, their figures seemingly intertwined with the rising mist, evoking the enchantment of a waterspout captured in a moment of sublime artistry. Velvet's artistic interpretation added a layer of depth to the performance, transforming the ephemeral dance into a tangible and captivating visual narrative.

Water had begun to swirl, the dancers moving around it, the water getting taller and taller, similar to the way it had when you had first made your entrance at the beginning of the Gala. Now, it was water, and from Charlotte’s seat, she had struggled to make out what was going on. She turned to Alastor to see him holding a pair of opera glasses in his hand. Without you having to ask, he tapped the armrest of her seat. Charlotte turned to the side to see a pair tucked neatly against the front of the armrest. She grabbed them quickly, before looking through them and at the waterspout now forming in the middle. Her jaw flew open, as well as the loud screech of Alastor’s track playing. Vox had short circuited, and Carmilla gasped loudly. Velvet stood silent, but there was evident confusion on her face, while Zestial sunk into his seat, conflicting emotions flowing through him.

“Madame- she’s-“ Charlotte stuttered, and Alastor nodded, swallowing thickly.

“With an exorcist. I know.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor #zestial hazbin hotel #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #yandere vox #yandere vox x reader #hellaverse #isuckatwritingsobenice infernal shadows #isuckatwritingsobenice

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joelsgreys · 20 days

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wip wednesday

thank you for the tags angels 🤍 @mrsmando @honeyedmiller @mermaidgirl30 @gasolinerainbowpuddles @thelightsandtheroses

here are snippets of some of the many wips i am actively working on. or trying to anyway.

the gold room - dbf!joel x stripper!reader

“Jesus Christ.” Joel stares at you, using every last ounce of strength he has in his entire body not to let his gaze wander past your chin. He’s trying not to look at the way your skintight, neon pink dress hugs every soft, heavenly curve of your body, how the matching rhinestone garter shimmers around your deliciously plush thigh. “Is it even legal for you to be fuckin’ workin’ here?” Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and shift your weight from one seven inch heel to the other. “You can dance at eighteen,” you inform him. “And in case you’ve forgotten, I’m twenty one, Mr. Miller. So with all due respect, chill the fuck out, okay?” “You went to college—“ “College is fucking expensive,” you interject with a shrug. “The job market is shit and I don’t plan on drowning in my student debt for the next ten years. Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you. Don’t stand there and judge me. Don’t act like what I do is so terrible when you have been paying good fucking money for girls like me to dance for you and sit in your lap all night long.” “That’s fuckin’ different. None of those girls are my best friend’s daughter.”

flutter - post outbreak! joel x pregnant!reader

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the stove, you crack a couple eggs into another, knowing the kid was on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast. “Morning!” Ellie pipes, the plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you. “Ellie,” you warn, walking over to the table. “Don’t—” “You’re bigger!” With a playful glare, you set her plate down along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks, you little jerk,” you say, feigning offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.” “Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she starts to sputter. “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach—you didn’t look like this yesterday. You look great, just different.” She’s lucky your raging hormones decided to take the morning off.

home - a safe haven drabble

*this is just a short short snippet because it’s being heavily edited rn so i can post it soon!

He peels off his clothes, being careful not to further agitate his sore, inured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you sitting in bed under the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home.”

np tags! 🤍 @sugarcoated-lame @ozarkthedog @amanitacowboy @sp00kymulderr @ilovepedro @ezrasbirdie and anyone else who’d like to share their wips!

#wip wednesday

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meaningofaeons · 10 months

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i absolutely love the way you write jing yuan! can you do some general domestic hcs for him? like him coming home after a long day at work and what'd you'd do together?

or on the weekend, where he doesn't have work, some cute sleeping in shenanigans before reader has to drag him out of bed

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ mundanities

⊹ character(s) - jing yuan ⊹ word count - 803 ⊹ notes - gn!reader

hi anon!! ty for the req!! I'm so sorry it took so long for me to get around to it </3 hope you enjoy !!! (=♡ ᆺ ♡=)

Now, Jing Yuan is a man of dignity.

He's the General of the Xianzhou Luofu, for Aeons' sake. Though he may nap on the job occasionally, nobody would ever question his status and majesty.

Well, nobody except for you.

It's difficult to take him seriously when he's composed one minute on screen, delivering a speech to the masses with poise and honor, and the next thing you know he's practically flopping into your arms once he gets home, completely deadweight.

Even if you wanted to scold him for throwing himself at you, it's impossible.

The General looks like a puppy when he gazes up at you, sleep-ridden expression doing nothing to get rid of the shine in his eyes upon seeing you.

"I'm home, my dear."

And his honey-like voice soothes your senses the moment he greets you.

He sounds so unbelievably happy and relieved, it's adorable.

Jing Yuan doesn't really enjoy doing anything too excitable or bothersome after a long day at work.

Really, if he had his way, he'd spend every day (working or no) in your arms, snuggled up in bed. Maybe with Mimi cuddling you two as well.

He's not opposed to some activities, though.

If you offer a game of chess or a walk around the gardens of Central Starskiff Haven, it's unlikely he'd deny you no matter how tired he is

But sometimes he will have to gently let you down—especially so if he's already made his way to bed and can't bring himself to rise from the plushness of the mattress.

(If you do end up going out, halfway through the walk or chess game he's probably going to hang off your shoulder and start snoozing lightly)

Jing Yuan can nap and doze just about anywhere and everywhere, but when he's in bed, there's not a chance in Hell of waking him.

Let him hold onto you, though.

Even if he'd rather not do anything at all once he's off work, he's still quite clingy to you.

Will groan and grumble like a child if you need to go on an errand or some such

Tries very hard to convince you to just stay with him.

Please bend to his will!! He works so hard, just let him enjoy the time he has to snuggle up to you

Stroke his hair, run a gentle caress over his face, he'll melt into your touch

Odds are he either gets home very very late and it's time for bed anyhow, or he gets home midday/afternoon and sleeps enough to ruin his bedtime

If it's the latter, he might be the one to ask you to take a walk and admire the stars together, surprisingly.

Jing Yuan is like a cat in that he can kind of sleep as much as he wants to, but sometimes he appreciates going out with you more than cooping up inside!

Now onto the weekends... You can't tell me this man is the worst on days off.

No need to get up for work? To him, that's as good as 'no need to get up at all.'

Obviously, there's stuff to be done around the house, or he made a promise to train with Yanqing that he may have forgotten about once he felt your hand stroking his white locks in the morning...

Not to mention, not only does he not get out of bed himself, but he has a vice grip on you making it so you can't get out of bed.

"Jing Yuan, darling. I need the restroom."

"Mmm... five more minutes..."

"I'll come right back."

"Ugh..."

I swear, if you thought he was petulant about you leaving during his afternoon naps, he's a whole new breed of childish in the morning if you so much as scoot away from him a bit

Forget about getting him up to do any chores or run any errands.

It'd be a miracle if you yourself managed to get out and finish them.

Once you manage to escape his grasp and run the errands you need to take care of outside of the comforts of your home, you will in most cases return to a somewhat guilty Jing Yuan who has taken care of the household chores in your absence.

You had scolded him to get up and get ready to go ten times before giving up, so the guilty conscience it put on him was very deserved, but...

He may be a bit lazy, but he's far from a slob, and he's certainly not ungrateful enough to you to let the household work go unfinished in your absence.

Besides... once your warmth had vanished from beside him, he found it a bit easier to drag himself up.

He's quick to latch right back onto you when you get home, though.

#jingyuan #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai #honkai x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #anon

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yanderedbdimagines · 3 months

Note

Hi dear, i have a special request. What about yandere Entity with a reade who find a way to escape. The Entity obvious don´t whant them to leave. <3

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Creative ask! Underneath normal circumstances, I believe that it’s basically impossible to escape the Entity, so I had to get creative xD I hope that the method of escape I picked is lore-friendly enough! And I hope you like it as result!

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The Entity

The Entity is a mysterious force that lures unsuspecting souls into its realm. Souls that have often been tainted- touched by death’s essence.

To the outside worlds- past, present and future, alternate reality or not, it is but a myth. A whisper in the dark. But to most of those who find themselves trapped within its grasp, it is a nightmare made into reality.

You stumbled into this otherworldly domain after the death of a loved one, drawn in by an eerie curiosity just outside of the crematorium center that soon swayed you into the unknown through a trick of the eye.

Little did you know, your mere presence instantly awakened the Entity’s interest, and eventually its possessive nature, after you started traversing though the fog- eventually trying to find a way out.

At first, the Entity appeared as a benevolent guide, offering solace and shelter in its strange realm from dangers you could sense, but never see. Yet, behind the veiled kindness laid a sinister desire to keep you captive, to possess your every thought, whim and every little part of your being. Your soul especially.

You quickly realized the Entity’s infatuation, its twisted affection made further prevalent after you accidentally stumbled upon a haunting replica of your own past. A memory made physical, but never real. The people you cared about weren’t there, and the animals you did see just didn’t look alive. As if they lacked heart.

As the night stretched ever endlessly, you came to yearn for freedom- for a way out of this suffocating imprisonment. With every attempt to escape, the Entity's affection morphed into perceivable fury from the surrounding environment, its once soothing whispers turning into menacing warnings. You knew the risks, the danger of crossing such a mighty being, but the desire for freedom burned brighter than any fear. Even though you were still unaware of the realm's true purpose, its minions, and the actual victims trapped within.

Through sheer determination and cunning, you eventually pieced together forgotten fragments of lore and ancient whispers, not only revealing to you the realm’s true nature, but also uncovering a hidden passage that promised escape after a long time of searching. With a pounding heart and trembling hands, you set your plan into motion, long since haven found a way to evade the Entity's watchful gaze by using a strange yellow flower that oozed with a fluorescent yellow substance.

In the distance, near a tunnel made up mostly of stone bricks and various human body parts in different states of decay, you eventually found this potential way out. And it was made further evident as the yellow ooze’s potency sharply reduced after you jumped through the black mists that originally blocked up its entrance.

The escape was fraught with peril, every step echoing with the Entity's enraged cries and your nose tormented by the constant scent of decay. Shadows and mist alike twisted and writhed, attempting to ensnare you, but you pressed on, fueled by the flickering hope of freedom as you warded it with the unusual flower’s nectar. As you neared the exit, the Entity's desperation peaked, unleashing its full wrath upon you, a whirlwind of dark energy and desperate pleas. Even the unspoken threat of using the killers against you as you heard the rearing of chainsaws and the bone chilling screams of monsters echo from all around you.

With a final surge of willpower, you broke through the threshold, a familiar world outside welcoming you with open arms. Gasping for much needed air and a heart pounding wildly, you glanced back at the realm- a large hole in the surrounding morning mist that seemed to collapse in on itself. The Entity's form flickered beyond it in the distance, a mix of fury and heartbroken anguish etched upon its fading shadows- writhing in on itself.

You had escaped the clutches of the Entity, but its haunting presence always lingers in your memories. The chilling whispers and phantom touches serve as a constant reminder of the harrowing ordeal. Yet, with each passing day, you have found some solace in the newfound freedom, vowing to never forget the haunting dance with the possessive being that may almost have claimed your very soul, and to make sure that you’d never fall into its shadows ever again.

After all, despite your escape, the Entity persistently seeks ways to reclaim its hold, attempting to ensnare you from afar—a chilling reminder to remain ever vigilant against its unseen clutches.

#yandere #dbd x reader #dbd #reader #insert #dead by daylight #platonic

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lanitalay · 2 months

Text

One Day : Chapter 5

Azriel x reader, based on the Netflix series by the same name

a/n: I haven't forgotten about AFAS but this one is so comforting to write. Also a master post for this series sis on my todo list I just haven;t gotten around to it.

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, a lil fluff

Word count: 1.6k

Masterlist

You were sitting beside Elain as you had done every morning since the Archeron sisters had arrived at the Night Court. She was no better than yesterday or the day before that. She ate very little and she was almost fighting against breathing. You had never seen anything like it, her body perfectly healthy but her mind… you imagined she was filled with rage and sorrow and grief for her past life. Not that she gave you much of an indication.

Being with Elain was calming in a way, she didn’t move much. You encouraged her to change positions every so often so her muscles wouldn’t atrophy but that was it. Sometimes you thought that your friends assigned you to her because of how Azriel arrived from Hybern. How he was seconds away from death. How you could only say “but I just got you back” over and over as you and Madja worked on his wounds. How you didn’t sleep for days until his eyes opened. How flashes of his too pale skin would cause you to crumble because he looked like a corpse and if Azriel was gone…

So you painted Elain’s nails, braided her hair and told her stories of Feyre when she first arrived at the Night Court. You reassured her that she would be back soon and that the three sisters would be safe in Velaris.

Your favorite story to tell her was of how her sister freed the fae from Amarantha’s reign. How, because of her blood and kin, peace was within grasp. You told her how it felt when Amarantha died and magic returned and the sky at the Dawn Court glittered with the colors of the rainbow. How Thesan arrived at his palace and told everyone in his court of the brave girl who saved them. You told her that you had basically given up hope because if salvation lay in someone falling in love with Tamlin...

“I only saw him once or twice during the reign but he was the most un-charismatic male I have ever met, we’re lucky Feyre has such a beautiful heart.”

You didn’t tell her that when you returned to your cottage after the announcement and the initial euphoria there was a tall male with giant wings standing at your door. His head turning the instant a shadow told him you had arrived.

“I thought maybe you moved.”

You couldn’t tell her that you ran and wrapped your arms around him. The last fifty years had been an ocean and, just then, you finally found your lifeline. He hugged your shoulders, bringing his head to the crook of your neck and breathed in your unchanging scent.

After minutes of the embrace that put your heart back together you pulled away and inspected his face. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect. “Az… you’re here.”

He nodded and grabbed your hands, noticing the way his thumb brushed over your ring finger.

“Rhys is back home… and I had to make sure you were…”

“I’m fine, the last five decades have been hell, but I’m fine. What about you?”

“I’ve wanted to say I’m sorry for so long, what I said that day-”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do. I was jealous and foolish and it has haunted me ever since.”

“It’s alright Az, I just… I’m so happy you’re here.”

The version of events Elain got was “once Thesan returned I knew someone would come for me.”

You told her how Feyre also had a difficult time with being turned fae, that it was fine for her to take her time to heal.

After lunch there would be a knock on the door. Sometimes it would be Nesta, sometimes Madja, sometimes Rhys but today it was Azriel. He had made a complete recovery and would often keep you company while you were with Elain.

He handed you a bouquet of flowers. “Happy anniversary.”

You felt your cheeks redden at the gesture. “You know it’s not until tomorrow.”

“I felt like starting the celebrations early, you know, to make up for lost time.” Rolled your eyes as he grabbed your free hand, “come on.”

Just then Nesta walked into the room, a novel tucked under her arm. “I can stay, y/n, go on.”

“Where are we going?” You asked as Azriel picked you up and launched into the sky.

“You’ll see in a few minutes.”

You landed on a little cove by the Sidra. “I figured you needed a break from the house.” You nodded and sat on the shore, your feet just touching the water. Gentle waves lapping at your legs. He sat down next to you.

“You never told me what actually happened with Lenus.”

“We just stopped loving each other… and he cheated.”

Azriel looked like you had just said something ridiculous “Lenus cheated on you?”

A nod “yep.”

“Lenus, glasses Lenus? Lenus the scribe?”

“She was also a scribe. Get this, I caught them in the library.”

“No you did not.”

“I most certainly did. Anyways, after that I put everything of his in a box and threw it away. Haven’t heard from him since.”

“If I ever see him again, I’ll kill him.”

“You don’t have to kill him, just remind me to never date a scribe ever again, please.”

“Noted.”

“Have you ever dated someone in the last fifty years?”

“No.”

“Really?” You raise a brow at him.

“We had to keep the court running, I was busy.”

“Yeah, yeah… Az?”

“Do you think you have a mate?” He looked up and thought about it.

“I hope I do, but who knows.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Why?”

“Well I’ve been alive for so long and I haven’t felt it yet. But the Archerons were turned and immediately found theirs.”

“But Rhys was over 500 when he met Feyre, so… there’s still hope. You’re what? 499? Still have one year to find them.”

You splashed water on him “you’re so dumb sometimes.”

You spent the rest of the day in the cove. But even the longest day of the year had to end so when the sun was setting, Azriel flew to your apartment. “Home sweet home.” He said as he put you down.

“I haven’t been here in weeks, there’s nothing to eat.”

“Let's go to a restaurant then.” Azriel grabbed your hand and led you to a small place at the end of your street. You always came here when you wanted something with noodles. You were led by an employee to your usual table, a small booth near the back. Just big enough for Azriel to fit comfortably but hidden away from curious fae.

You ordered what you always get and so did Azriel. While you waited for the food you took Azriel’s hand in yours, feeling his pulse, confirming it. “I still can’t believe you’re alive.”

That arrow was straight through his chest.

“It’s going to take a lot more to kill me.”

You lifted your gaze to meet his. His breath caught in his throat at the intensity, like a switch had flipped. “Promise me I’ll die first.”

The air got thicker and Azriel’s wings tensed. “What?”

“I can’t watch you die Az, I- I won’t survive it. So just promise me I’ll die first.” He grabbed your hand with both of his.

“It's ok. See? You patched me up good as new.” He wasn’t getting it. Tears began to pool in your eyes as you pleaded.

“Azriel-” you said so low he could barely hear it “please…” He saw your chest heaving and knew what was happening. So he pulled you next to him with both arms and made a shield with his wings and shadows. “Breathe, y/n. I’m right here. I’m right here.”

You were sobbing now, clutching his leathers as if he would float away. He held you firm against his chest. His heart a little faster than normal, but steady. It was the greatest symphony and the most beautiful prose. You kept your ear pressed against his chest. He was mumbling “I’m here, I’m ok, It’s alright.” Over and over.

You were back in your apartment now. Azriel had asked for the food to go and brought you back home. So now you sit on your couch, the food getting cold on the coffee table. Hugging your knees to your chest as Azriel draws circles on your back. The crying stopped a while ago. The mortification on the other hand… You hid your face in your knees. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Why? At least you didn’t have a panic attack in the middle of a one night stand.” He attempted to joke.

“I always keep it together.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It just- it keeps me awake at night, the arrow right through your chest. Your heart-” a gulp “I could feel your heart desperate for relief, the ash and the blood loss put so much of a strain on it- you didn’t see how close you were to being gone and- I close my eyes and I see you on that table limp and-” You hadn't spoken with him about any of this. He woke up and you were your usual self, if a bit sleep deprived.

“I never thanked you” , his hands still drawing circles on your back,“thank you for healing me.”

“Anytime Az,” you lift your face from your knees and give him something that resembles a smile. With his thumb he brushes away a few tears and some strands of hair stuck on your face. “Are you hungry?”

You nod.

“Then let's eat.”

#acosf #acowar #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #one day series #azriel x reader #azriel

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noirsloth · 12 days

Text

To create a truly eerie paper puppet, follow these instructions:

Select Your Material: Choose paper that mimics the delicate texture of human skin—thin, smooth, and pale. Consider using off-white or aged paper for an authentic look.

Prepare Your Tools: Arm yourself with sharp scissors or a precision knife. Treat each cut like a surgical incision, precise and deliberate.

Cut with Care: Begin by cutting out the puppet's body parts—limbs, torso, head—each piece resembling a section of human anatomy. The paper can yield under the blade, but it`ll go away after a few moments.

Assemble with Intention: Use glue or stitches to join the pieces together. Don’t be afraid of things getting messy - sometimes sewing or fusing flesh and bone is tricky. With patience, the puppet will make a perfect shape - a flawless reflection of human form.

Add Details: Draw or paint features onto the puppet's face — freckles, moles, pimples, and wrinkles. These details breathe life into your creation.

Test Its Movement: Attach strings or wires to articulate the puppet's joints. When you manipulate it, observe how it moves, breaths, and shows emotions. Take the time to adjust all the joints; stiff movements will easily give away the fake.

Behold Your Creation: Step back and marvel at your paper puppet. Make sure that you haven`t forgotten to add imperfections and asymmetry.

Did you manage to blur the boundaries between art and anatomy? If not, then look through the previous steps.

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korpuskat · 7 months

Text

Eleven Years - Ch2

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: T (this chapter, Explicit future chapters) WC: 1,464 Warnings: Kidnapping; Stockholm Syndrome, imprisonment, isolation, manipulation, future extreme dubcon, & mind break.

[Chapter 1]

He doesn’t stay long the first day. Shock had settled deep into your mind and whatever warm, lingering questions that flittered hopefully from his synth are met only with the cold, numb ice block of your psyche. Nothing comes in, nothing comes out. Even the last fleeting touch of the backs of his fingers to your face are lost to you.

Ramattra was here. He was the one waging a global war, imprisoning his own kind… imprisoning you. It doesn’t make any sense. Perhaps he was always more guarded than the other monks you had met, more vocal about the mistreatment omnics faced, but it had always been balanced out by compassion, a drive to help his brethren and provide a safe haven for them.

This…? Nobody would be safe at the end of this. All he’ll do is make humans distrust omnics all over, give them one more excuse. And whatever he’s doing to the omnics you saw online? The ones with strange helmets, surrounded by big, panicked posts warning all omnics to run... You don’t want to believe he’s set out to hurt them, but you don’t want to believe much of what you’ve seen, either.

When he’s gone, you curl up on the bed, your back to the door. No tears come.

When the door opens again- you shuffle off the far side of the bed. There’s nowhere to run, but it doesn’t stop you from getting as far from him as you can. Even if it’s on the floor, tangled in the comforter that fell with you- shooting daggers at him as viciously as you can.

Ramattra’s expression cannot change, but he hesitates as the door lowers into place again. He aches to see such hatred on your features, but there’s no going back. He’s suffered and can withstand the pain of this, too, for your sake. Besides, he can’t blame you. It’s taken him years and a global journey to see what must truly be done- being dropped into the middle of it is a jarring experience, he’s sure. You just need some time and patience- he’s happy to give you both and more.

“I brought you tea.”

Your eyes lower from his faceplate. Sure enough, a plain black mug looks comically small, cradled in his two large hands. Steam curls from the top- and the scent of warm spices wafts to you. Cinnamon and cardamom wash over you- rage and grief rising to meet it. How dare he-

“I remembered,” He says as he slides onto the bed. The frame doesn’t even creak, doesn’t whine at a quarter of his weight like the one you had in Nepal. You’d ended up getting rid of it, leaving your mattress on the floor, smothered in pillows and blankets to make it comfortable, just so he could sit with you and- “In Annapurna, the tea you bought. You wanted Manish to stock it.”

The owner, back at the store. You'd forgotten his name. He was stubborn, probably sensible. The workmen won’t drink that. He’d argued, too fancy for them. Anyone bull-headed enough to move to a town below an omnic monastery and then complain about the bots wouldn’t give a shit about spiced tea. No, it was your tea, the one you’d travel to get, only sold by the vendor there in Annapurna. You liked her, she had real passion about what she made.

Ramattra moves slowly, keeps most of his weight planted on the far corner of the bed from you. He leans over and leaves the mug on the nightstand closest to you. Still, you shuffle further away, down past the foot of the bed, not stopping until your back is pressed to the far wall. As much distance as you can get.

If it hurts him, he doesn’t let it show. He just sits, waits, watches you from across the room, his hands settled into his lap. It’s weird, seeing this much of him- he’d been so nervous the first time he’d shed his robes in front of you, just for you to inspect the damage to his side. An old scar from a fight you hadn’t seen.

That damage is gone now, repaired, leaving only shiny, imposing bars of armor.

“Are you hungry? I can bring you dinner.”

Your glare turns sharp again, softened with the memory. You don’t want his gifts, his pleas for forgiveness for what he’s done. Playing on your feelings like that… Even if he cared enough to remember, to use it now when he’s stolen you away from your own life? It sickens you.

After a moment Ramattra nods softly. “Perhaps later, then.” He stands, hands clasped together in front of him. And he looks at you, tips his head, raises his shoulders as though he’s going to speak again- but thinks better of it. He leaves- and the room is quieter without the hum of his inner workings.

You hadn’t even thought of them in so long, the actual noise of it.

On sleepless nights you’d open up an old laptop you’d bought ages back, utterly obsolete in every way. The slightest pressure on its CPU and its fan would spin loud and hard. You couldn’t remember what he sounded like exactly- but it was close enough to let you sleep. The laptop was too high pitched you know now, the singular fan too small, the vent too open. Ramattra was a deep hum, no whistling air, all complicated ventilation and self-regulation.

You pull your knees up to your chest, press your face into them, and cry.

You don’t know how long you spend staring at the mug. Conveniently, your room does not have a single clock- no way to know how long you’ve been here. No windows to tell day from night, the lights don’t even dim to simulate it.

But it feels much longer than later. Because you cried until your eyes were sore and then cried more, and when you had no tears left you stayed there, curled up in a ball and wishing you’d died to his bots before he could find you. Restlessness drove you to stand and something else made you sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the black ceramic.

You lift your hand, but hesitate to even touch your side. As though that alone would be a slight against yourself. But the mug and its contents have gone cool. The only indication of time at all.

The corners of your eyes, your nose, your throat all itch. It’s thirst that’s brought you to sit down here.

You don’t have to drink it. There’s a bathroom, a sink- and you doubt he’s planned all this just to forget running water. You could dump it- you want to-

But when your fingers curl around the handle, they shake. Even cold, the spices bring forth memories from better times. You didn’t know it then- can never know, can you?- when it’s the good times you’ll look back on later. He wasn’t perfect, far from it, but you were content, more or less.

Unhappy enough to leave him.

Happy enough to wish, years later, that you hadn’t.

Couldn’t you have put aside your complaints about his anxieties or learned to live with them? Could you have put away your own insecurities and just believed him when he told you he was afraid? The questions have plagued you on those nights you’re alone in the dark. You were so young, so stupid. Why couldn’t you have been happy with what you had? The thought makes you sour, because how dare you have wants and needs beyond what he could give you.

It’s the same circle you’ve been treading down for years. Round and round, you should’ve stayed, he was good to you, you were right to leave, he wasn’t ready for a relationship.

It had been safe to dream about him, about the time you’d been together because it was all fantasy. In all likelihood you were never going to see him again, never get a chance to find out if you had made the correct choice. In the safety of your mind he’d become a beacon when the harsh realities of life had closed in- when yet another disappointment left you more jaded.

It doesn’t feel so safe anymore, staring down into the dark liquid. You spent years seeking his imaginary comforts, wishing that he would bring you tea on the hard days, just like this. Your lip wobbles, another wave of tears building behind your eyes.

The tea is cold on your tongue, but its spices are still warm and vibrant and make you think of red and orange blankets, of machine oil, of his hand so delicately on the small of your back.

[Chapter 3]

#ramattra #ramattra x reader #overwatch x reader #kidnapping #yandere #ramattra kidnapping au

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meetmyothersouls · 10 months

Text

Back To You

Jonah Hauer-King x Reader

Warnings: memory loss, hospitalization, talks of loss pregnancy, not proof read

Chapter 2

There was a time where being in England would have had me filled with wonder and excitement. But not now. Not when I have no recollection of even getting here and the apparent 4 years I’ve somehow forgotten. The job that I had in New York. Gone. The life that I had in New York...the job I loved in New York as a journalist. Gone. Everything I worked for just...gone? I'd never have let myself let all of that go. I'm definitely going to have to do some digging to find out what the hell happened to my life and to me.

Since I've woken up from, Haven has made sure to be present to keep me as comfortable as possible in my less-than-ideal situation. Unfortunately, only one person is allowed to stay with me overnight and Jonah insists that it be him. That being said, he's not been totally unpleasant to be around, it's just...a little awkward at times. Even though he hasn't touched me or even really gotten close to me again since he tried to kiss me, his glances seem...intimate and filled with longing and memories that he has, and I don't. It doesn't seem fair.

Even now he's looking at me. He thinks that I don't notice, but I do. In the last few days, I've picked up a few of his actions and his mannerisms. I've noticed that he bites his fingernails, which I find highly gross and annoying, when he's anxious. He runs his fingers through his dark hair when he's deep in thought or attempting conversation. I wonder what thoughts and memories are wracking his brain right now. I want to ask but it seems too intimate and intrusive a question. Every once in a while, he'll remind me that I can ask him for anything, but I think he's forgetting that the last four years of my life are totally gone. I don't ask him for anything because I don't feel comfortable doing it.

He's still staring at me when I turn my head to look at him. He doesn't look away, instead he gives me a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Jonah stands and starts to walk over to my bedside. Immediately my palms start to sweat. I'm no longer hooked up to any monitors, thank God because they'd be going crazy right now. He's got some weird effect on me that makes me jittery and nervous, like my body remembers how to react to him but my mind doesn't.

Jonah sits down on the foot of the bed and it dips down slightly with his weight. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the curtain to my room swings open and Dr. Vincent walks in with Haven trailing behind. I let out an audible sigh of relief and if Jonah hears it, he doesn't let on. I'm fully dressed in an outfit that Jonah picked up for me at his house...or I guess our house. The whole thought is still jarring to me, but at least I'm more comfortable than I was in the hospital gown, and it appears I still dress the same. He brought me a pair of black leggings and an oversized Aerosmith T-shirt that I'm still not sure is mine or his. But it smells nice, and the fabric is soft so I'm not complaining. I sit up, wincing a bit as I do so. I can tell my stomach is different. Deflated almost. I push back the strange thought that I had a baby growing inside of me made by a man I don't even know.

"Alrighty, Mrs. Hauer-King," Dr. Vincent says. I fight back the urge to correct him. He is right after all. "Everything's on track for you to be out of here in the next hour or so, how does that sound?"

"It sounds great," I say, smiling. "I can't wait to get home." I look over at Haven who gives me one of those grim smiles. I don't even realize what I said until it's out. I look at Jonah and he's got his head down, facing his lap. He's picking at a loose nail he's just partially bit off. "I'm sorry Jonah, I just...this isn't my home."

"It is thought," he replies softly.

"I can't stay here."

He sniffles once and I start to get irritated at the sheer thought of him thinking I could still make this place my home. "Surely you don't expect me to uproot my entire life and stay here with you? I don't even know you!"

"Y/n," Haven says, "I know you're upset but-"

"I just want to go home!"

Jonah gets up, his jaw tight. "And I guess you expect me to give up my entire life? Just like that? These last four years may not exist for you, but they do for me!" Jonah trudges over to the curtain and tuns back to Haven and me. "I'll wait in the car."

"Give us a minute?" Haven asks Dr. Vincent once Jonah is gone.

"Of course, but might I add that it would be in your best interest to stay where you are...at least for the time being. I know this is difficult for everyone involved but cases of memory loss and amnesia almost always recover, albeit slowly. Being in an area that the brain is used to helps even if you yourself are not used to it. The memories are there just give them time."

"Thank you, Doctor," Haven says, a sweet smile on her face.

"Give me a ring when you're ready for me. There's just some paperwork and a few signatures we need before you leave," Dr. Vincent says as he exits.

Haven sighs and tuns back to me. She runs a hand through her blonde hair then holds them out in defense. "Listen, I know you want to leave, and you want to go home, but this is your home, y/n."

I want to slam my head into a wall, but I know it'll only make things worse. "No it's not! I had an amazing job in New York and an apartment and..."

"And all that is over now, it has been for years! You can't leave Jonah here by himself. You are his entire world, y/n."

I hate this. Every part of this is unfair. "So I'm supposed to stay here until what? Until the memories come back?"

Haven gives me a look that I know means yes. "You live here, y/n, and you love it. You have a job and a house and a husband any woman would kill to have."

The words she's saying sound nice in theory but a horrible thought washes over me and tears start to burn my eyes. "And what if they don't?"

"What?"

"The memories. What if they don't come back?"

Haven doesn't say anything at first. I can see her fear just as well as I can feel mine. There's a very real possibility that I won't get them back, no matter how high the likelihood of regeneration. But then she smiles, ever the optimist and says "they will. I know they will. Until then, you're going to have to do what the doctor says. You need to be around familiar-" I give her an incredulous look because none of this is familiar- "familiar to your subconscious, y/n. You can't uproot everything you and Jonah have built here. Just give it some time. Please?"

I groan, plopping back onto my pillow. "Fine. But I'm still looking for plane tickets out of here just to keep the hope alive."

The ride back to Jonah's is a culture shock. It's cloudy and wet, which from what I've been told about England checks out. Jonah pointed out a few landmarks to Haven, which is just as informative for me considering this is my second first time seeing them. I decide to sit in the back seat, and I pretend to not notice as Jonah steals a few glances at me through the rear-view mirror.

It's pouring down rain and I'm exhausted by the time we arrive to Jonah's house, but I definitely notice the size and glory of the house. It's a beautiful two-story home, that seems to be partially under construction, but even with the few areas that are being worked on, it is marvelous. I'm marveling at the house and barely notice that I'm getting soaked by the rain.

"She's a work in progress," Jonah says, as he holds an umbrella over me. "But she'll be a real beauty when she's done."

I look up at Jonah and give him a small smile as he walks me into the house. If the outside was marvelous, the inside is astounding. My mouth is hanging open as I take small steps around the luxurious home. The hardwood floors gleam from the light shining from a huge chandelier hanging over head. The walls are painted a beautiful pale-yellow color that reminds me of baby sunflowers. I walk into the kitchen, and I audibly gasp. The granite counter tops are to die for and there's a tiny herb garden sitting on the windowsill. It's all so beautiful and overwhelming. It's too much to take in.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Jonah asks, clearly knowing my face enough to know that I'm not okay at all.

"Just...tired. I think I'll go to bed, if that's okay? It's been a lot to take in."

"Of course."

We stand there awkwardly. I don't know the layout of this house, but I also don't know how to ask where I'm supposed to be sleeping. I really hope he doesn't think I'll be sleeping with him. I clear my throat and Jonah jumps a little.

"Oh, yes. Right. Sorry," he laughs, and his fingers go to his mouth, wanting to bite the nails he's already chewed all the way down. "This is all new for me too. You'll take our bedroom. I'll sleep in one of the guest rooms. Haven you can have the other one, if you'd like."

"Please stay," I say, unable to help myself. I don't look at Jonah, not wanting to see the look my words caused.

"I'd love to stay, thank you."

There's another momentary awkward pause until I break it. "Can you uh...can you show me where the bedroom is?"

Jonah nods and I follow him. The walk is silent, and for some reason i feel bad about it...I shouldn't...I didn't do anything wrong, but I do. I can't even have a normal conversation with this man without it being super fucking awkward. I hate this. I want to go home. This feels like spending the night with a family member you've never met. He leads me to a door at the end of a long hallway and I suddenly regret not asking Haven to come with me. Not that I think Jonah would hurt me...it's just weird.

"Here you are," Jonah says, pushing open the bedroom door. The bedroom is of course, gorgeous. There's huge king-sized bed against a dark purple wall in the center of the room. A massive walk-in closet with what appears to be both mine and Jonah's clothes. On the other side of the room is that master bathroom which looks very white and very clean. It sparkles even in the dark. There's a glass door that leads to a balcony with two chairs sitting on the patio. It's beautiful. Jonah leans on the door frame as I gape at the room. I turn around and he's smiling, which I hate to say is the prettiest smile I've ever seen on a man. "I'll be down the hall to your right if you need anything. Haven's room will be to the left. It's a big house so it's easy to get lost if you don't know the layout. Tomorrow, I can give you a tour if you want."

"I'd like that, thank you, Jonah," I say, hoping to get him out of here faster.

"Goodnight, y/n."

"Goodnight, Jonah."

I wake up and it's dark. I don't even remember falling asleep. I'm sweaty and breathing heavily. I need some water or some fresh air. I reach for my phone on the nightstand. It's dead. Fuck. I slide out of bed and put my hands in front of me, desperate to find the light switch. Why's it so fucking dark in here? I find the doorknob and twist it open. The hall is dark too except for a light coming from a cracked open doorway. I walk toward it and as I get closer, I hear soft singing coming from inside. It's a slightly familiar song. It becomes more distinct the closer I get. I'm right outside the door and I realize the person singing is Jonah and the song is Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. As if sensing me, he stops singing and looks up. He sees me and I can't even pretend like I'm not there.

"I was just looking for the bathroom," I lie. I open the door a bit wider and get nauseous as I see what room he's in. It's a nursery. "S-sorry, I hope I wasn't interrupting anythi-"

"Oh no, not at all," Jonah smiles, but it's a fake one. I can tell. "Bathroom is right across the hall on your left."

"Thanks," I say.

He doesn't get up to join me or point out the fact that there was a bathroom in the bedroom I was in. I flip on the light and wince at the brightness. I pee and wash my hands and then drink the water from the tap. When I exit, the door to the nursey is still open and the light is still on, which means Jonah is still in there. I feel bad just walking by, so I walk back across the hall. Jonah's head is in his hands, and I suddenly feel really guilty about all of this. He's mourning not only the loss of his unborn child, but the technical loss of his wife a well. I've been a massive bitch.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

He shoots his head up and looks at me, rubbing his wrist across his eyes as if to hide the fact that he was crying. "Yeah," he says quickly. "Do you need help to you room?"

"I don't think so," I say, "just...two doors down?"

"Three," Jonah says with a smile.

"Yikes. Well, goodnight," I say turning around.

"Don't go."

"Hmm?"

"Don't leave. Haven told me about you looking for plane tickets, and...and I know it's selfish me, but I can't...I can't do this without you. I need you. And I know this might be a lot for you to hear right now and you're probably feeling very overwhelmed, but...please? Just give it some time. Give me a month, and if you still don't remember anything or you've decided you hate it here, then you can go. But give me that. Give me a month. A month to help you remember why you fell in love with me in the first place."

He's looking at me with pleading eyes, he's poured his heart out to me. And even though he's clearly sleep deprived and depressed, he's still somehow beautiful. And as I'm standing in a nursery of the baby we made but never had...how could I say no?

"Okay," I whisper.

Tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @wandamaximoffbae @twinkledinkleg-blog @anonyymoouussssss @nonsensical-nonsence @paramorelvrr @thedonswife13

✨let me know if you want to be added to my Jonah tag list✨

#jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer king fan fiction #jonah hauer king imagine #jonah hauer king #jonah hauer-king #back to you #fan fic writing #writers of tumblr #writing #my writing

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lumi077 · 9 months

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Nobody else matters

Your love was all encompassing, like a huge tidal wave washing over them and not letting them escape. It was drug that they became addicted to, the feeling of your hands on their body, your lips whether they were chapped or soft, was ecstasy in its purest most undiluted form. Nobody else matters to them, just you and the love you hold for them. They are devoted so unequivocally to you.

Warnings: Slight ooc possibly, light mentions of violence but no gore, partner idealization. Possessive themes on Xiao

Characters: Childe, Pantalone, Xiao

Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax. All these names sound like the sweetest melody when they tumble from your sweet lips, ones he doesn’t ever want to be left unkissed. His duty as a harbinger was demanding on not only him, he realizes, but you and the love you two share. Something so sweet and sticky like honey, that he just can’t remove it from his heart and soul.

On the rarest occasion where he travels somewhere he cannot bring you, whether because it’s too dangerous or too far for your liking, he yearns for you day and night. You’ll encompass his only thoughts, both waking and in dreaming. His duty will lay almost entirely forgotten if not for his underlings' persistent reminders of them.

He missed your touch and sweet words of love, your soft hands patching up his wounds from a battle he had won (in your honor, of course. You are the reason he fights so hard, so that he may come home to you again like always). He swears your beauty surpasses in the divinity of the gods, why you must be one yourself. You simply can’t be a mortal with your blinding beauty and endless patience and softness with him. He may very well thank Celestia now, for bringing you to him.

If he could, he’d shout from the rooftops of every nation that you are his. Any women or ever men stand forgotten when you two ventures out together. They will never, hell they couldn’t, compare to you in his eyes. You are his reason to keep going, to make the tsaritsa’s wish a fact, to make a better world for you. People may think he does this for the glory, but no.

It has been, and always will be, for you.

The Regrater is a mighty harbinger, and the richest man in the whole of Teyvat. Yet he finds his true wealth in you. The way you caress his face with the utmost softness, or how you massage his shoulders after seeing how stiff sitting at his desk all day left them. The small notes you leave him for when he wakes before you and leaves before you do. How you send him lunch when he forgets to eat.

Everything you do leaves his heart and stuttering fool in his chest, his cheeks reddening even if you weren’t there. He did not grow up with much at all, a poor orphan left to fend for himself. But then he met you, showed him how he could lean on you for support when before he could only lick his own wounds or pretend, they weren’t there.

All that makes you so much more than the countless mora he has, or his title in the fatui. You make him feel like he is just Pantalone, and he never realized that’s exactly what he needed. Your warm and awaiting arms are his haven, a world away frim his duties. It’s just you, his truest treasure, and him.

So he shows this in buying you the world, taking you places you could only fantasize about visiting. And Tsaritsa forbid someone slight you, the poor fool will be found and murdered before he can utter a single apology.

He’ll gift you his skull with beautiful exotic flowers decorating it. Because no else will ever matter as much as you, so how dare a lesser being even comprehend the action to slight you?

No, he just won’t stand for it.

This lone yaksha was a distant person, afraid of losing you like he did his family. It took quite the while for him to be comfortable to come to terms with the fact that he has never loved someone as hard and as true as he loves you. So when he realized this, he was always with you. Killing any foes who even looked in the direction you were in. You were so fragile to him, and your actions of softness and love only proved it to him.

They way you softly peppered kisses all around his face, neck, and shoulders. How you would delicately intertwine your fingers in his, treating his hand as if it were a precious gem that would crack if you grabbed too roughly. Or how carefully you would cup his cheeks and tell him you are all you have dreamt of and even more. He finds it funny, as that is how he believes you should be treated.

The soft red of your cheeks when he bluntly states that you were so perfect you completely blindsided him on your first meeting. The way you giggle so serenely as he tells you he will never leave you, you two will be together till the end of time. Perhaps even then.

How could he care about anything other than you? His savior and truest love? He’s lost so many people he closed himself off, but was it not meant to be if you could wiggle yourself into his heart regardless?

No, he will never let you go. You are his, and he is yours. Only you hold the broken heart of his in your hands, and he should be the only one who holds your beautiful and lively one.

#genshin fluff #xiao x reader #childe x reader #pantalone x reader #ajax x reader #xiao x you #pantalone x you #tartaglia x reader #ajax x you #tartaglia x you #lumiwritings

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bonefall · 1 year

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CRIES AND SHAKES CRIES AND SHAKES TELL ME ABOUT STARCLAN AND THE DARK FOREST I WANNA KNOW ABOUT T-THE-THE SCARY HORSIES AND THE PRETTY CLOUD ABOOOVEE

QUICK 'N DIRTY GUIDE TO THE ENVIRONMENT OF THE AFTERLIFE LET'S GOOO

(also check out StarClan 101)

also also I do plan to put this in its own entry at some point

Meadow of Young Stars (Purgatory)

This is the space between the Dark Forest and StarClan. It is a great grassland of rolling hills and a hazy mist, full of sparkles like baby stars or fireflies. Its primary colors are pastel shades of purple and green.

When a cat dies and wakes up in the afterlife, this is where they come. While they either wait for their trial, or for their judgement, their deceased friends and family may meet them here and patch up any injuries they acquired in life.

As an example, though Brokenstar was going to go to the Dark Forest and knew it, Raggedstar still came to mend his son's eyes before he left.

It both surrounds StarClan and is also its border with the Dark Forest. There are no landmarks in the MoYS, making it seem endless if you are stuck wandering there. If you attempt to find StarClan from this place without being a StarClan cat yourself, you would find the Dark Forest through the mist. It's like a wall.

Silverpelt (StarClan's Hunting Grounds)

A powerful haven for the ancestral spirits of the Clans, and where the Clan's deities do their work. It's a paradise always in leaf-fall, with a meandering river, lots of rocks to sun on, and a deep forest with many Clan-appropriate areas. Its primary colors are light blue and white.

This place is strange; time moves quite differently here than on Earth, with some cats simply not-existing (but not fading) for stretches of time. Over time, distance with your mortal life and the worship of cats below begins to change you. Every cat who fades, though this is a peaceful process, seems to contribute to this bizarre land.

But enough thinking of that for now.

There are many amenities here, which helps StarClan do its work down below. Creamy clay is scooped right from the riverbank to craft new kittens and prey for the living, there is a great pool where the Clans can be watched, and the territory ends in a great cliff from which the nebulae beyond StarClan can be watched to unravel the future from its shine.

Skypelt (SkyClan's Heaven)

A smaller, but still powerful haven where SkyClan cats gather when not collaborating with the cats of Silverpelt. It's always dawn in Newleaf here, featuring a deep gorge and a lot of vertical movement, and ghostly human houses by its edges. Its primary colors are orange and cream.

When SkyClan rejoined the Forest Four, they brought their own StarClan with them. It's a point of pride to the ancestors of SkyClan that they are able to care for their descendants completely on their own; they have not forgotten that it was Firestar and Brokenstar who freed them from their earthly imprisonment as rats, not StarClan-Prime.

Skypelt cats and Silverpelt cats can freely mingle, there are no borders and visiting the other is as simple as walking there.

There is no unique Dark Forest equivalent. All five Clans share the same hell.

The Place of no Stars (Dark Forest)

A nightmare made manifest, which contains those cats who have turned or been cast away from StarClan's light. A shifting forest-like place influenced by the dreams of the living, with each resident's personal hell contributing to a patchwork territory. Its primary colors are red and brown-black.

One person's hell is another person's heaven. Though it's seen as a a horrible fate at first glance; it can be home if you let it be. By working together with other cats, it's possible to find the perfect places to rest and hang out. For example, Morningstar's worst memory is his memory of ThunderClan's camp when his Clan turned against him... but Ripplestar's was his death of the falling tree at Fourtrees.

It's also influenced by the dreams of the living, unlike StarClan itself. The Thunderpath is here, with Shrewpaw's Pheasant trying to lure cats onto the road. As long as cats fear the gigantic horses of the barn, the horseplace will be here. Even bizarre nightmares, like biting into a mouse and tasting fish, find their way here.

It's an edgy place, but, once you get past the fact that the moon is a giant eyeball which blinks sometimes, and that the willows bleed, you can start making bloodsyrup.

And, importantly, you may walk alone if you would like to. If you don't want to meet a person, you simply will not. Try as she might, Mapleshade can never find her victims to hurt them ever again. Frecklewish, Appledusk, and Ravenwing simply do not want to see her, so they don't.

The Dark Forest is supposed to contain these spirits so they can't interfere with the living... but as Mapleshade's haunting of Appledusk's bloodline shows, there is a way to do it. Figure it out on your own or ask the right questions.

How to Double Die

And, lastly, of ALL territories, no cat can die to their homeland. Because a Dark Forest cat is part of their homeland, they cannot kill each other. A Dark Forest cat who dies in the Dark Forest simply pops back up the next day, no matter if it was to a horse hoof, being hit with a car, or a fatal killing bite.

LEAVING the Dark Forest removes this protection... as well as introducing creatures that do not belong there. Ivypool practicing the killing move on Antpelt was a horrific shock to ALL involved, as it was not known that the living would be able to kill spirits.

Simple Chart:

Spirit vs Spirit = Safe

Dreaming Mortal vs Dreaming Mortal = Safe

Spirit vs Mortal = Unsafe

Spirit on Mortal Plane = Unsafe

#Dark Forest #StarClan #Spiritual Overhauls #Better Bones AU #Silverpelt #Skypelt #Place of No Stars

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zeroducks-2 · 2 months

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twitter is mean and is ignoring me help

(also to everyone who sent asks, ily I haven´t forgotten about you I just have very little time for anything)

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fallingforfictionalcharacterss · 1 year

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Traitor pt.1

A/N: This is the first part of my mini-series, I really hope you´ll like it. While writing this I mostly stuck to the plot of the books and not the movies, so if you haven´t read the books (for some reason, I really can´t think of now) this might be a bit confusing at some points.

You watched the fire in the fireplace dying slowly. By now, the comfortable warmth it had radiated was fading, still, you and your fellow students were crouching on the couches in front of it and stared into the glow gloomily. Today had been probably the worst day in a long row of bad days. Not only that the DA had been exposed by Umbridge and was now at its end, but also your reckless behaviour had brought Professor Dumbledore in a more than just uncomfortable position, as Harry had told you. Your headmaster was by now on the run, after he had put off Fudge and his henchmen in his office. Now, the school would be fully exposed to Umbridge´s cruel reign. You didn’t even want to think about all the things that might happen in the near future in this school that -until now- had always been a safe haven for you and your friends.

“This is all my fault.”, Harry finally broke the silence and slumped in his seat. “I should have never even started all of this.”

But Hermione was quick to shake her head eagerly.

“If anything, it is my fault. Oh, Harry, you haven´t done anything wrong. This was all my idea.”

“You didn’t even want to do this. We talked you into this, man.”, Ron confirmed.

“But I´m the one who started this. I´m the one who took the lead.”, Harry argued, visibly upset.

“It really doesn’t make sense to put the blame on any of us.”, you cut him off harshly. “This is on Umbridge. And Fudge.”

“But I should have seen this coming. I knew that Umbridge was up to no good.”

“We all knew that.”, Ron said. The boy shrugged his shoulders. “And we all knew that she was going to catch us sooner or later.”

“We can´t change what happened. What´s important now is how we´ll keep going from here.”, you said.

“We won´t do anything anymore.”, Harry stated. “It´s over. We should just forget about it.”

“But there must be something we can do.”, you persisted.

“But Umbridge has the list. She can´t prove that we´ve done something, but she knows that all of us were up to something.”, Ron argued.

Hermione´s gaze shot up and suddenly she seemed to be as energized, as she had been when she had come up with her original idea of founding the DA.

“That´s it, Ron. You´re a genius.”, she stated. Even though you could see Ron flush in the dim light of the fireplace, the look on his face was as questioningly as on Harry´s and yours. But Hermione didn’t seem to notice. “Not all of our names are on the list. Don’t you remember?”

When she grinned at you excitedly, you realized.

Back in the day when everyone had met up in the Hog´s Head, you had been lying in bed with a nasty flue, regretting bitterly that you couldn’t accompany your friends to the very first meeting of the alliance forming against Umbridge. But maybe that exact fact could somehow help you out now. Because while back on that day, everyone had signed up on Hermione´s bewitched list, you hadn’t been there to do so. And by the time of the first meeting, you, as well as your friends, had somehow forgotten about the fact, that officially, you weren’t a part of the DA yet. And if Umbridge would use the list as a register of suspects, your name wouldn’t appear.

“But she still knows that we are friends. And even if there would be no connection between me and any of you at all – what am I supposed to do about the entire situation?”, you asked.

Hermione frowned.

“We have to think of something. And we need to be careful. We can´t allow any mistakes to be made once more.”

You nodded and let out a heavy sigh as you sank back into your seat. Just like Hermione, you weren’t ready to give up the fight yet, but on the other hand, for now, you couldn’t think of a single thing you were able to do in this situation. But as you saw Hermione´s gaze fixed on the fireplace, her brows furrowed and her lips moving constantly, as she talked to herself inaudibly, you strongly suspected that she was already working on a solution for your problem.

And your determination to do something -anything- about what was happening at your school only grew the next day. Because over the night new placates had appeared all over the castle. The Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight announced that "Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as the Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry".

Many rumours were spreading around the entire school, suspecting what exactly had happened the day before. Surprisingly, many of them weren’t exactly wrong. At least most people were informed well enough to know that Harry had witnessed the entire scene and now he was bombarded with questions. And no matter how hard Harry tried to shield himself from the curious glances and remarks, somehow someone always found their way to him.

One of those people was Ernie Macmillan. You had always liked the Hufflepuff boy, but sometimes his constant talking got on your nerves. Today was one of those days, but then again it wasn’t that hard to appreciate his chatter, since he not only shared your aversion against Umbridge, but he also wasn’t afraid to say it out loud. And just like that, Ernie and Hermione worked themselves into a rage, gossiping about your new headmaster.

But as Hermione was using a barrage of not-exactly-friendly words to describe her, she was interrupted by a sneering voice.

“Do you really want to finish this sentence, Granger?”

You turned around, facing the boy who had interrupted Hermione´s hate speeches. Draco Malfoy had somehow managed to stalk you and was now standing behind you, accompanied by his friends Crabbe and Goyle and a superior grin on his face, making you suspect, he was up to no good.

And you were right. While the grin on Malfoy´s face only widened, he explained to you, that members of the Inquisitorial Squad had by now the authority to dock points from other students. And he promptly took advantage of his new power, as Malfoy docked five points from Hermione for running her mouth over Umbridge, and once more ten for her being a -as he referred to her- mudblood, five from Ernie for disagreeing with him, five from Ron, for not dressing properly, and five from Harry. With Harry, Malfoy didn’t even look for an excuse to dock points, simply stating that he couldn’t stand him. Finally, the Slytherin turned to you, eying you with a sly grin on his face. Until that moment you had just stood there, watching the scene quietly, simply left speechless by the audacity of the boy. You could feel your heart pumping loudly in your chest, as Malfoy´s grey eyes set on you.

“Let´s see (Y/l/n).” He paused, his eyes scanning every centimetre of your body, searching for something to criticise. You could feel your skin burning under his intense gaze. Finally, Malfoy looked up again, his grey eyes meeting yours. The smile on his face only grew wider as he said: “Five points from you for having such bad taste in friends.”

You looked at the guy in disbelief. It took you a few moments to find your ability to speak again.

“Excuse me?”, you squeezed out, as a part of you was still denying what was going on right now.

“You are excused (Y/l/n).”, Malfoy said in a haughty tone, making Crabbe and Goyle giggle meanly.

As he saw the dumbfounded look on your face, Malfoy just laughed, before he turned on his heel, and walked away.

Only when Malfoy was almost out of sight, you slowly started to process what had just happened. And with the realization setting in, you felt the anger boiling up in you.

“That stupid bastard.”, you hissed, grabbing your wand, ready to fire a nasty curse right at Malfoy´s back. “I´m gonna…”

“You won´t do anything about it (Y/n).”, Hermione cut you off, grabbing you by the wrist. “Not yet.”

“But Hermione, we can´t let him get away with that. We can´t let all of them get away with that.”, you said in a desperate voice.

“Oh, don’t worry. We won´t.”, Hermione said grimly. “And I already have an idea how we will do this.”

A few days had passed since the incident with Malfoy. You and your friends turned the situation over in your minds over and over again. And by now, you knew exactly what to do.

You walked along the corridors of the castle until you finally stopped in front of a pink-painted door. You took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.”

You pushed down the handle and slowly opened the door. As it swung open, you squinted. You were genuinely wondering how Umbridge was able to spend her time here. Everything was shocking pink. The walls, the accessories, even some of the furniture. By now you had no doubt that Umbridge´s preferred method of torture wasn’t as effective as if she would just lock up the students inside this room for an hour. There was no way anyone would ever want to risk getting in here ever again. As your gaze wandered, you noticed the many cat pictures on the walls. Even if the situation was more than serious, you had to fight a small smile that threatened to appear on your face. You were absolutely certain that Professor McGonagall had taken it as a personal offence when she had realized what Umbridge´s favourite pet was.

Finally, your gaze settled on the desk in the middle of the room. You could have taken the Professor for a part of her office as well since her entire outfit was matching with the walls behind her perfectly. You could see that your arrival surprised her. Umbridge raised an eyebrow questioningly, nevertheless, the toadlike smile on her face was the same as usual.

“Miss (Y/l/n). May I ask you what brings you here?”, she said. Her voice was sweet like honey, but not in a good way. You could see her eyes glistening suspiciously.

You shifted from one foot to the other, your hands buried inside the pockets of your cloak.

“I… I would like to talk to you about something Headmistress.”, you said.

Calling Umbridge like that was even harder than you had imagined. Your voice shook slightly, and you had to bring up all your courage to not pull a face in disgust. But luckily, even if Umbridge would notice how nervous you were, that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.

“Well, have a seat then.”, Umbridge said and pointed at the chair on the opposite side of her desk.

You mumbled a small “Thanks.” as you sat down. Umbridge placed the cup of tea she was holding in her hand on the desk and looked at you.

“So, Miss (Y/l/n), tell me. What is your concern?”

“I… would like to talk to you about… About what happened earlier… the day Professor Dumbledore… disappeared. About the DA.”

You could see Umbridge´s googly eyes widen. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards as her hands clenched around the armrest of her upholstered chair.

“The DA?”, she said in an even higher-pitched voice than usual.

“Dumbledore´s Army.”, you clarified. As if she didn’t know.

“Very well. So you confess that you have been a part of it?”

You shook your head, even if it broke your heart to do so.

“I haven’t. But I… knew. About some things.”

“Miss (Y/l/n), I really appreciate the fact that you came here. But do you really want to tell me that you haven’t been a part of all of this? That all of your friends have done those awful things, but you were completely unaware of it?”

“I wasn’t unaware of it, Professor. I simply wasn’t involved. Harry has told us that you have seen the list with all the members. You know I´m not on it.”

“And why are you telling me this?”, Umbridge said, by now sounding slightly impatient.

“Because I know that what the others have done was wrong. I knew it back then and now I´m certain. I also know that their resistance is pointless. For my part, I want to be on the right side of this. And this is yours.”

Umbridge nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on you. For a few moments, she remained quiet. Then she let out a small sigh and smiled at you sweetly.

“My dear, I feel like this is going to be a longer conversation. Would you like to have a cup of tea?”

You felt your stomach drop. You knew what was about to come, you had talked the scene through several times, yet, you could feel the palms of your hands beginning to sweat. But you put on your sweetest smile and nodded.

“Yes please.”

Umbridge returned your smile and flicked her wand. From a sideboard, a tea service flew towards you and landed on the desk. Your hands shook slightly as you raised the cup to your lips. You could feel Umbridge´s gaze burning on you. When the warm porcelain touched your lips, you squeezed your eyes, trying to focus on a certain point in front of you. And in your head, you repeated the words all over again: Evanesco. Evanesco, evanesco, evanesco.

You gulped heavily, even though your mouth was dry before you put the cup back on its saucer.

Umbridge´s gaze fell on the cup, as well as yours. You couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. The cup was by now half empty.

Umbridge, who had seen the same, nodded with a pleased look on her face.

“Tell me, how are you feeling Miss (Y/l/n)?”, she asked you in a mellow voice.

“Good.” Your voice broke. You cleared your throat. “Good. I´m just a bit nervous.”

Umbridge smiled contentedly.

“There is no need for that my dear. It´s just the two of us. And we both want the same, don’t we?” You nodded. “So, why don’t we continue where we left off?”

“The DA?”

“Exactly.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Just tell me everything you know about it.”

Umbridge leant back in her armchair and folded her hands.

“Well, I don’t know exactly much.”, you hesitated.

“That doesn’t matter. Every little detail could be important.”

You deliberated a few seconds before you started.

“They were still at the very beginning. Professor Dumbledore had asked Harry to build the group. This was supposed to be the first official meeting.”

“The first official? So there have been interactions before?”

“I only know about one. They all met up to plan everything.”

“Who is all?”, Umbridge asked.

You shrugged your shoulders.

“I can´t be sure, I wasn’t there. But I suspect everyone from the list.”

“And what was your plan? What did you want to achieve with those meetings?”

“As I already said, I wasn’t a part of that.”, you pointed out. “But I know Dumbledore has asked Harry to teach the students how to fight.”

Umbridge´s hands clenched around her own cup of tea.

“To fight?”, she whispered breathlessly.

You nodded.

“Dumbledore held the view that the purely theoretical teaching in Defence Against The Dark Arts wasn’t enough. He wanted us to gain practical experience. And in his eyes, we didn’t do so in your class.”

“Obviously just an excuse.”, Umbridge interrupted you. “His goal was clearly a different one. The only purpose of this association was to form an army to bring down the ministry.”

“I don’t think so.”, you busted out. You bit your lip the very next moment, regretting your words.

But Umbridge didn’t seem to care. She threw you a compassionate smile.

“My dear, I totally understand that you want to think so. He had been your headmaster ever since you attended this school. But you have to understand that Dumbledore isn’t the man you all thought he was. Do you understand?”

By now, you bit your lip so hard, you could taste the metallic flavour of your own blood. But you nodded anyway.

“It´s just… so hard, you know? I always thought he was such a great man. And now he has done all those awful things. In the beginning, I thought that he might be innocent, but now that he´s on the run… I mean, why should he disappear when he isn’t guilty? But all of my friends still believe in him. And now they are all turning against me, just because I have doubts.”

Who hadn’t any doubts anymore, was Umbridge about your sincerity. By now you were absolutely certain that you had pulled the woman on your side. She tilted her head and threw you a -what she thought was- warm smile.

“I know my dear. But I can assure you that you have done the exact right thing. I am very proud of you.”

About half an hour later, you were still sitting in Umbridge´s office. The tea had by now gotten cold. Your Professor had asked you several questions about the DA, Professor Dumbledore and your friends. You had answered all the questions patiently.

“Well, I think that´s it. For now.”, Umbridge finally said with a sly grin on her face. “Or is there anything else you think you have to tell me?”

You pondered for a moment.

“The Galleons.”, you finally said. “The members were handed bewitched Galleons to communicate with one another.”

Umbridge nodded eagerly and scribbled down something on the pink parchment in front of her, which she had started to use halfway through to make sure she would remember every small detail you told her. Then she put down her quill and looked at you.

“Thank you very much, my dear. I really appreciate your effort. And it will be rewarded. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

You smiled.

“Thank you, Headmistress.”

Umbridge mirrored your smile.

“You earned it. You know what I told you. Good students will be rewarded, while bad students will be punished. Congratulations Miss (Y/l/n), you really honoured your house today. You have been really brave indeed.” Oh, if she only knew how much you had been. “You may leave now.”

You thanked the Professor with a sweet smile on your face and got up. When you had almost reached the door, you stopped.

“Headmistress?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“My friends… They won´t get in trouble for what I have told you, will they? I mean, I know what they have done wasn’t right, but I´m sure they wouldn’t have done it if they wouldn’t have been talked into it.”

“Don’t worry. I am very much aware of the bad influence Dumbledore had on his students. But from now on, that will change.” She threw you a tight-lipped grin. “So please tell your friends that from now on they will be responsible for their actions. And if they decide to keep on showing bad manners, I will take action.”

“I highly doubt that they will still listen to me after what I have done today.”, you responded glumly.

“They will understand that what you have done was for the good of all.”, Umbridge said softly.

You nodded.

“Thank you for your time, Headmistress.”

“Any time, my dear.”

Only when you pushed down the handle, Umbridge held you back once more.

“Miss (Y/l/n)?”

“Yes Headmistress?”

“Why don’t you attend the next meeting of the Inquisitorial Squad? By now there aren’t any Gryffindors in the group. But I want all students to be represented. I am sure we all can benefit from this collaboration.”

If she only knew how much you would benefit from this.

“I would love to. Thank you, Headmistress.”

And with that, you finally left.

But as you returned to the Gryffindor common room, the other students threw you some deadly glances and whispered with one another. And for the rest of the day, no one said a word to you, and everyone treated you with contempt.

pt.2

Taglist: @xodracomalfoyxo @marigold-morelli @army24—7 @lbhmoon @cappgyuccino @writingwitch007

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x female reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco fluff #draco angst #draco fanfiction #draco fic #harry potter #dolores umbridge #gregory goyle #hermione granger #ron weasley #vincent crabbe #gryffindor #gryffindor reader #slytherin #fanfic

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dodorimo · 2 months

Text

in his name

It’s moments like these that she wished she could fold in her hand, like a crumpled piece of paper, and tuck safely in her pockets, to revisit whenever she wanted.

Canon-divergent AU in which Bhaal visits a young Orin and Dark Urge in their dreams. Rated T, 1.2k

Tags: animal cruelty, violence, grooming, the worst people you know have a quality family time

AO3 link

It’s moments like these that she wished she could fold in her hand, like a crumpled piece of paper, and tuck safely in her pockets, to revisit whenever she wanted.

Her father guided her through the quiet forest, his hand on her back—never on hers, as much as she wanted so—its comforting presence a balm to her heightened spirits. The breeze carried the smell of rain, and the early morning fog hung over her like a snug blanket. If she squinted hard enough, she could still make out the silhouette of the cabin that she had come to think of as her home in the distance. Her favorite days were the ones spent in her father's company after waking up in that same wooden cabin.

An almost pastoral scenery, if she didn’t know any better.

Bhaal never said where he would take her in her dreams. It was nowhere and everywhere. A pocket of reality made just for them—a haven.

Eirin thought it was perfect.

Only one thing spoiled the idyllic picture.

Orin trailed not far behind them. She could hear the sounds of branches snapping as the older girl stamped her feet, could practically feel her furious gaze boring into her back. If she looked back, she had no doubt her face would be contorted into an ugly mug, as it often was, but she paid her no mind.

Let her sulk. All Orin did is sulk these days.

Turning her attention to happier matters, she chanced a look at her father's profile. Bhaal’s hair was a perfect mirror of her own, long and shiny like threads of silver. Orin’s hair was different, a shade darker, less moonlight and more setting sun over a steep hill.

What did the other kids call her? That’s right. Half-breed. The meaning of the word eluded her, but it seemed to anger her sister like nothing else could.

Without warning, Bhaal stopped in his tracks and Eirin was pulled from her musings, her back taut as a string and ears straining to catch any hint of sound.

He held up his hand, motioning for them to stay put. Following his lead was as easy as slipping into her night clothes, no trouble for her at all. He walked to a bush and knelt down, his long black cape blocking her view.

When he turned around, she saw that he held a young hare in his arms, its fur coat white as snow.

“All living things are meant to perish.” His voice was little more than a whisper, but she heard him as if he were standing next to her. “The least we can do is rush them to their ends.”

He beckoned her to come closer, and she knew what she had to do. Her hand hovered over her dagger out of instinct.

The hare remained perfectly still, subdued, its crimson eyes opened wide.

“… It won’t even fight back,” she grumbled, already regretting her words. “What’s the sport in this?”

Bhaal took his time to answer, a faraway look in his eyes, as if reminiscing about the long-forgotten past. She was always struck by the strange quality of that gaze; the passing of centuries, a concept too foreign for her to grasp.

Bhaal was mortal too, once.

Hard to believe now.

“I was very lenient with your education. Careless. My mistake.”

She would have preferred anger or scorn, anything to the indifference on his face as he handed the hare to a grinning Orin. Her sister looked at her with barely disguised triumph, and she felt her gut churn in response.

Orin kept her eyes on her as she knelt in the tall grass and drew her dagger from its sheath. The first blow was aimed at the hare's throat, blood gushing from the wound to form a puddle beneath her feet.

She wasn’t spared from the spray of blood, and neither did Bhaal, who remained silent, eyes occasionally darting away from Orin to gauge her reaction. Orin, of course, wasn’t blind to this. Nothing escaped those milky white eyes whenever their father was concerned. But she didn’t let it faze her. On the contrary: her blade flew with acute precision; cutting, slicing, and peeling skin from bones. An eye was ripped out from the skull. One ear was torn off, thrown to the ground for the vermin to feast on.

A gruesome spectacle. Purposeless and meant to impress.

Silly Orin. Her father didn’t care if a man was murdered with one stab or a hundred. It was one of the first lessons he taught them. He didn’t bother correcting her now.

She remembered a time when she woke up in the cabin with blood on her hands and her clothes in disarray. She had gotten into a fight with one of the taller kids and made a fool of herself. In her anxiety-ridden state, she feared the worst. Her father had explicitly advised her to pick her battles wisely. What good was an heir prone to bouts of childish anger? Tears streaming down her face, she tried to wipe her hands on the bedsheets, on the fabric of her dress, but only managed to stain it further. Bhaal appeared shortly thereafter. He took her trembling hand in his, ran his fingers over her knuckles, and then ruffled her hair a little. It soothed her crying like candy to a baby. The following day, she wore the bloody shape of his fingers on her forehead with pride.

Her father was a strange man. If she could even call him a man, that is. He praised her stubbornness and admonished her in the same breath; he demanded absolute obedience and none at all. Eirin wondered if there would ever come a time when she would understand him, even begin to see the reasoning in his ways, but then again, all adults were strange.

Their gaze met above the bloodbath. They both knew where her mind went. She tried to tell him with her eyes, ‘That was different! That pig-faced little bastard! My dagger was too good for him.’ And he replied just as silently, ‘Just as the scales do not tip towards the weight of a man’s guilt, it makes no difference in the end. You’ll learn this, in due time.’

“I saw another burrow further away,” Bhaal said after the hare was reduced to nothing but a pile of disjointed flesh on the ground. He didn't need to elaborate, his meaning clear. He wouldn’t tolerate another mishap. ‘The stench of failure is discernible for those with a keen sense of smell’, he said to her once. The feeling in her gut came back with a vengeance.

She thought of hands in her hair and bloody fingerprints on her skin. “I’ll do it, Father,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “I won’t disappoint you.”

#something short bc i've the attention span of a wallnut #my writing #mine #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #orin the red #the dark urge

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bawltongue · 10 months

Text

ROOMMATES - Pt 1

(jonathan davis x stealth transmasc reader <on t, post op top surgery>. takes place in early 90s, very beginning of korn. reader gets notice by landlord that they will have to share their space with a new roommate- that being jd. despite the readers initial lack of excitement, they get to know each other and develop a mutual liking)

18+ !!!!!!!

warning: substance use, lots of swearing, slurs, brief mention of the film 'cannibal holocaust'

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Fucking shit!” You sputtered out, woken up from a deep sleep due to your obnoxious alarm. You had the day off, but had forgotten to turn it off the evening prior. You sighed, feeling defeated already. Another day where you’ve been yanked out of slumber nearly suffering a heart attack at 8 AM.

“Great, there goes sleeping in today.”

Getting up from your bed, you groggily stumbled into the kitchen. Might as well prepare a decent breakfast, since you actually have time rather then having to rush to work. You opened up the fridge to scan various ingredients, trying to decide on what you were going to make. You had meant to go grocery shopping a few days ago, but your consistent exhaustion has kept you nothing but work and homebound. The fridge was basically barren and despite your rumbling gut, nothing looked appetizing.

Well, nothing except for your trusty old bong sitting on the counter where you had left it the night before. It still had some ash and weed inside the bowl; even a bit of green still sprinkled in there. You sighed picking it up, mildly disappointed in yourself over how happy the thought of lighting it up made you. Walking out onto your tiny haven of a balcony, you plopped down in one of the plastic yard chairs and picked up the lighter left lying on the ground. Inhaling the comforting smoke, you sat wondering what you could do to postpone going to the grocery store for as long as possible.

“Damn, this is some good ass shit.” You coughed out, already feeling high after a couple hits. Your dealer knew you back in high school as the weird, quiet, androgynous kid. When you had first linked up about a year ago inquiring about buying from him, he thought your transition was ‘cool and interesting’. He always made sure to give you his best product; sometimes he’ll even slide you some free edibles to try.

Finishing up what was left in the bowl, you made your way back inside to fill it back up and get fucked up for the day; only to be inturupted by a knock at your door.

“Shit shit shit.” You anxiously jumped up, racing to shove your bong under the kitchen sink and lighting a candle on your coffee table. You weren’t expecting any visitors, and you had already paid rent for the month a week and a half ago; what’s the fucking deal?

Another impatient sounding knock at the door.

“Coming, I-I’m coming!” You stumbled over to the door, opening it without even thinking to look through the peephole. Lo and behold, your landlord, Lily, was waiting with a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow.

“Do I have to remind you for like, the billionth time that you can’t be smoking? You’re gonna get me in trouble, Y/N.” She said half seriously, half nonchalantly. You’ve had this conversation so many times, all she can really do at this point is wag her finger and pretend to care.

“Shit, you can smell it?”

“Not this time, but your eyes give it away.” She snickered, gesturing at your face. “Anyways, that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about. I have news, and you’re either gonna be excited or pissed at me. Probably pissed. Either way, it’ll be your problem, not mine.” She crossed her arms and took a step closer.

“You’re scaring me, Lily. Like, that just made me so anxious. Just give it to me straight.” You braced yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest and holding onto your shoulders. You honestly didn’t know what to expect at this point. You’ve been residing in the same complex for close to 2 years now, so aside from the occasional drama from the room above you or malfunctioning of appliances; surprises weren’t something that occurred often at all. You were almost hoping for her to say something a little outlandish. Life had felt so redundant lately.

“Alright. You want it straight? I’ll give to ya. Finances are… rough, to say the least. I can’t keep up with what I’m charging you for rent. So I’m raising it-“

“What? Are you kidding? You know I’m in a shitty situation myself, I can barely afford an eighth of grass. I’m paying for my hrt, come on, dont do this to m-“

“Y/N, chill. You ain’t even let me finish my sentence. Why would I mention you’d be excited if I was just gonna double the rent on you? You think I’m a monster?” She looked mildly offended. Her assurance made you relax your shoulders a bit.

“Anyways; I’m raising the rent and you’re going to be splitting it with a new roommate. I think he’ll be a perfect match for you, he’s your age, a bit quiet, but-“

“Aw shit… please tell me you’re joking. I don’t mesh well with other people. Especially strangers. Plus, you know my ‘thing’. What if I get hatecrimed? What do you even know about this guy?”

“Enough to be sure he won’t slaughter you. I dunno, he might be a little… you know… queer himself even. Not my business.” She flashed a limp wrist to emphasize her point. It would’ve made you chuckle if you weren’t so disappointed and taken off guard. “Be prepared for your new friend tonight. I already told him he’d probably have to take the foldout couch to sleep in.”

“Whatever.”

“You know, maybe you should be excited or something. You’re always alone, getting stoned by yourself and shuffling around here like a hobbit. Your life is your life, but you have a shot at making a friend. You’re gonna have to get used to it anyways, because I need money, and you need a place to live. Once I get his payment, I may even be able to fix your hot water problem.” She winked cartoonishly and took a step back. “That’s all I had to say. If you can afford it, go buy some eyedrops.” She said before walking away, unbothered.

You made a disgusted expression at her back before slamming the door shut and pacing to your bedroom to put some normal clothes on. In that moment, you had decided you’d tidy things up a little bit. Sure, you were pissed off and unhappy that you’d have to be sharing your space with a total stranger all of a sudden, but you didn’t wanna feel embarrassed about a mess on top of that. Wasn’t worth fighting fire with fire.

Time felt like no object as you cleaned up; throwing laundry into your crummy little dryer, spraying down the mirror in the bathroom, vacuuming up the ash and crumbs scattered throughout the apartment floor. Before you knew it, you had looked at the clock and it was 4 PM. You had done a damn thorough job sanitizing and tidying.

Damn, I’ve been cleaning all fucking day for some dude I don’t even know. I deserve a medal for hospitality or something.

You looked over at the little coffee table, spotting your lighter.

Or maybe a couple bong rips would suffice.

Packing up the bowl tight with a nice fluffy bunch of weed, you situated yourself outside with a glass of water and got ready to get fucked. Your anxiety was starting to eat at you now that you weren’t occupied cleaning; and what better way to rid yourself of that nagging feeling then to smoke it away?

Time dragged on as you smoked an unforeseen amount of bud. Your eyelids got progressively heavier until they fell and your body gave in to much needed sleep. A sleep that would once again be crudely interrupted, as the slamming of something hitting the floor of your apartment pulled you to your feet in fear. With bloodshot, sleepy eyes you yanked the door from your balcony open and staggered inside.

“The fuck?” Your voice cracked with apparent concern and confusion. In front of the doorway of your abode stood a lanky, and clearly startled man about your age. He had dark dreads, silver eyebrow piercings, and a uniquely handsome face. You scanned him tentatively, trying to figure out in your stoned state of mind if he was a threat or not.

“Sorry, I uh, Lily gave me a key and I didn’t wanna knock in case you were asleep. I didn’t mean to scare ya like that.” He awkwardly fumbled, putting the key in his pocket before outstretching his hand. “I’m Jonathan.”

You exhaled in relief and reached your hand out to shake his. He seemed polite enough, and the fact that he was clearly nervous as well made you feel a bit better.

“Names’ Y/N. It’s cool to meet you, man.” He gripped your hand with more strength then expected. You couldn’t control your eyes. Your gaze went from up his hand to his face and down his body. Taking in his features and clothing choices the best you could. You noticed his dark, friendly eyes. There looked to be a lot of soul behind them. His decrepit black sweater and sweatpants that looked like they’ve been through purgatory. You wanted to keep staring, but didn’t wanna seem weird.

“This is a really nice place, you do a good job keeping it clean I can see.” Jonathan smiled, trying to ease the tension, earning a soft smile back. His crooked teeth caught your eye.

“Thanks. To be honest, I really don’t. I cleaned it all today, went fucking nuts with it.”

“Aww, what? Already trying to impress me and we just met, huh?” He playfully responded, making you blush a bit. Fortunately for you, it was just dim enough so that he couldn’t tell.

“Man whatever.” You laughed tiredly. “Can I help you with anything? You look like you might be strugglin’ a bit.” You looked over to his bags that had fallen all over the floor. One had busted open and his clothes had come flooding out. You noticed a pair of thigh high striped socks and garters. Interesting.

He looked behind him and sighed softly, turning back to you. “Nah, nah… Well… I hate to make this kind of first impression, but would you maybe have sumthin’ to eat? I’m fuckin’ starving.”

You nearly facepalmed. Fuck. I was supposed to go grocery shopping today.

“Shit man, I wish I could say yes. I haven’t eaten all day. I’m hungry m’self.”

“Oh fuck, well… can I buy you something to eat then? It’s like almost midnight but I can get us something from the Kwik Stop across the street.”

You smiled, a bit surprised at the offer. You would’ve said no out of courtesy since you normally don’t like when people buy things for you; but because he was moving into your space, you graciously took him up on the offer. Before leaving, you both moved his bags onto the couch and went on your way. It was pitch black outside. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been out for until he mentioned it was about midnight. Time felt weird.

The Kwik Stop was just across the road from your complex, which was empty due to the odd time of evening. On the brief walk there, you had partaken in some small talk; learning that he had come from Bakersfield, that he enjoyed music, that you both really liked The Cure. He had a very soft spoken and gentle cadence to his voice. Although you weren’t excited by any means to have to embrace a new roommate, it didn’t seem like it’d be necessarily hard to get along. In fact, you found yourself kind of attracted to him which threw you off a bit.

“Feel free to grab whatever you want, It’s on me.” He winked at you and walked off, going straight for the beers in the back. Once you both got what you wanted, you left to run back across the street. The sidelights lit your faces up dully as you waited for cars to cease passing by. "I really appreciate you getting me something to eat."

"Don't worry about it. I really appreciate you being so cool about me staying at your place. I probably would've beaten the shit out of me the way I showed up earlier." He chuckled softly. Jon's gaze was soft, his eyes looked like black holes reflecting the small amount of light emanating from the street. You met his fixed look with your own causing him to nervously glance at his feet.

"I gotta be cool with it, right? We're roommates now. If anything, I'm surprised you didn't peace out when my stoned ass came bumbling through the door at you. Was kinda embarrassing."

"Naw, it was sorta endearing." You didn't even have a moment to respond before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the street. "C'mon, let's head out." He kept your wrist in his grasp as the two of you speedwalked across the road. You had been caught up staring at Jon's face rather than paying attention to the cars. He let go of you once you reached the other side. "Whew, let's fuckin' eat."

You walked up the stairs and unlocked the door to your apartment, letting you both in. Jon plopped down on the couch and instantly started ripping apart the wings he had bought. He looked up at you with full cheeks and patted the space next to him. You sat down somewhat guardedly, slurping at the slushy you got. As you both ate and drank your respective food and engaged in chitchat, it was easy to tell that sleepiness was becoming palpable. Your eyes kept fluttering closed as Jon would try to continue engaging in conversation. You had been sitting and talking for over an hour now.

"Y/N, you oughtta go to sleep." He snickered staring at you, his head in his hand. "I can tell you're exhausted."

Your eyes peeled open, dark circles encompassing them. "I guess I should. Fuck, I'm so tired. I'm sorry. I wanted to try and vibe a bit more but-"

"Go to bed. We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. I just like your company, it's why I won't shut the fuck up." A sleepy smile plastered on his face. You groggily got up and made your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth before passing out on your bed. Too tired to change out of your day clothes, but not too tired to unplug your alarm clock.

As the next couple days and weeks passed, you and Jonathan got to know each other better. Developing a friendship where you could be both serious when necessary, but poke fun at each other as well. You took space when you needed it but found that you both enjoyed each other's energy. Jon became more talkative as the days went on, and the two of you found it easy to intently listen to each other. He had told you about the band he was in and how they're working on their first album; even invited you to their next rehearsal. You were becoming somewhat close pretty fast. It'd been a bit difficult to continue suppressing the full on crush you developed on him throughout your time together. You kept covering it up by teasing and making fun of him in subtle, friendly ways. He did the same, but you assumed it was his way of being friendly.

In the midst of a pretty serious conversation about childhood and the lyricism behind the songs Jon had been working on with his bandmates; you ended up disclosing the fact that you're trans to him. You had gathered from multiple discussions and his experience with being perceived as queer that he wouldn't be distasteful about it. Fortunately, you were right. He found it to be very interesting and admirable. You were the first trans person he'd met. He was very open to being educated on the subject. Every now and then a new question will pop into his mind that he'll ask you; some a bit invasive, but all in a genuine attempt to better understand and sympathize with you. You came to learn he was a very open minded individual. After you came out to him, he insisted on giving you an almost uncomfortably long hug. Almost, but more than anything it was a very meaningful gesture. Ever since then, you found yourselves embracing and having sentimental moments a little more often. It was nice to finally have somebody to confide in about your personal life and vice versa. Friends, dates, socializing in general hadn't exactly been a tangible thing since you moved away from home.

At this point, it had been about a couple weeks since he had initially moved in. At the end of a very long workday, you had planned to head over to the Kwik Stop together and grab slushies. This time, on you. Work hadn't ended until 9:30, which left you getting back to the apartment around 10 PM. Jonathan was waiting eagerly when you got back. The moment you opened up the door, he sprung up from the couch and walked over to you. “Let’s get outta here!” He pushed past you, grabbing your wrist and tugging you along. He got into the habit of dragging you places by your wrist like that. You didn’t get the chance to even say hello, let alone change out of your work clothes.

After picking out your ridiculous sized slushies, you headed back to the apartment and finally had the opportunity to change into something more comfortable. You grabbed a random oversized t-shirt and pair of sweats from the dryer, swiftly throwing them on before exiting your room to join Jon on the couch. Looking up at him, you noticed a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

You sneered, raising an eyebrow. "What's your damage?"

"Nothing. You're just wearing my shit." He pointed a finger at you, still smirking. He proceeded to take an obnoxiously loud sip from his drink, not breaking eye contact. You looked down at the clothes you had mindlessly tossed on to find he was right.

"Oh, uh, shit. My bad. I thought-I didn't even realize. I'll go change real quick."

"You shouldn't. It looks good on you." He very obviously scanned you up and down. A hot blush spread rapidly across your face. You both locked eyes for a few silent moments before he spoke again. "You're turning red."

"Man shut the fuck up." You sputtered out, flustered and unable to hide the smile on your face. "That's gay as hell." You were never very good at accepting compliments.

"That ain't a problem with me." Jon snickered and bit his lip looking quite satisfied with himself. You plopped next to him on the couch and flipped the television on. Out of the corner of your eye while channel surfing, he was making it pretty apparent that he was gawking at you. You had your gaze fixated on the tv and tried to play it cool; despite your heartbeat growing louder in your ears. Jonathan interrupted your aimless search for something to watch by letting you know he had a VHS tape he wanted to show you. You hesitantly agreed as he sprung up and grabbed it from one of his bags, popping it into the player.

"It's called Cannibal Holocaust." He casually sat back down, a little closer to you then before.

"Jonathan, what the actual fuck are you making me watch right now?"

"Don't worry, it's all fake. Mostly. If you get scared, I'll protect you." He playfully patted your head and chuckled, turning his face towards the screen. Every time he touched you, whether it was a tiny tap, a hug, a fist bump, a gentle hand on your waist to get by you; it always made butterflies arise in your stomach. As the movie played on, you found yourself progressively more disturbed and unsettled. Every now and then, Jon would turn his head toward you to check your reactions. You thought it was pretty cute, but with him doing so, felt compelled to try and force a stone-faced expression. That was, until a particular scene involving a turtle shocked your system.

"OH SHIT!" You jumped in disgust and fear, spilling your giant, now melted slushie all over the couch. Jon couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You fucking weirdo, where are you gonna sleep tonight now?" you snapped in a mildly annoyed tone. He wiped a tear from his eye from laughter, glancing down at the sticky mess.

"Damn... Guess I'll curl up on the floor?" He got up to go grab paper towels from the counter. You took a deep breath and got up to turn the VHS player off. You felt a little bad for raising your voice at him.

"Nah, nah. I'm sorry, that was totally my fault. You can sleep in my bed... I-I wouldn't mind."

He gladly accepted as you both proceeded to get ready to go to sleep. Brushing your teeth, setting up his one pillow and bracing yourself for what you hoped to be a casual, non awkward evening. He walked into your room from the bathroom with nothing but a pair of dramatically short, tattered boxers on. You couldn't help but gawk at his figure; he was so much hairier than you imagined. Almost made your mouth water. He excitedly crawled under the covers next to you and faced you, a cheesy grin on his face.

"Taking it to the next level now, are we?" He winked.

"You're dumb." You laughed tiredly. Your faces were inches away, causing you both to subtly turn red. "You've been acting so gay lately."

"Yeah yeah, haw haw, Imma fag... Can you blame me? We've been spending so much time together. I'm starting to like- well I dunno. Nevermind. We gotta sleep." He closed his eyes and began cartoonishly snoring. 'Honk shoo, honk shoo'. It made you snicker.

"No, you can't do that, Jon. Tell me what you were gonna say. I promise I won't be a douchebag about it." You inched closer, getting in his face. Your mutual sleepiness causing your walls to come down a bit. He opened one eye, lips curling into a smile seeing you so close to him.

"I don't wanna make things weird, Y/N. We're sleeping in the same bed tonight." The anticipation of waiting for him to say what you thought he was going to was killing you. You were both sweating. A brief stretch of silent thought ensued until you interjected.

"You have a crush on me or something?" You tried to keep a casual, somewhat playful tone, but your voice came out shaky. His eyes bulged a bit, looking away from you. He sighed dramatically.

"You know, I played that movie kinda hoping that you'd get scared and like, grab my hand or want me to put my arm around you or something. I didn't expect you to dump liquid diabetes all over the couch... and now we're laying in the same bed... and I feel more awkward about telling you this then I thought I would..." He trailed off hesitantly. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath since he started talking.

"Just say it." You impatiently spat out. His eyes fixed back onto yours, both of you using the blanket to cover your faces from the nose down.

He laughed awkwardly; "Peer pressure... I think I've made it obvious enough, right?... I really like you. Like, I'm crushin' on you a fuckton. I think you're really fuckin' cute, Y/N." He almost whispered out. Your smile stretched across your face so wide that your eyes squinted almost completely. You saw the smile in his eyes as well, as you both remained stuck in each other's gazes. You couldn't come up with a response due to your surprise and the surgency of emotions. Time seemed to stretch on forever as you affectionately stared into one another's gazes. Jon hummed thoughtfully to himself, debating on whether or not to interject the silence.

"Can I kiss you?" Jon softly asked. You nodded your head enthusiastically, prompting him to scoot closer to you until your lips weren't even a centimeter apart. He placed a gentle hand on the side of your face and leaned in, placing a tender, somewhat quick kiss on your lips. You couldn't hold back your childish giggle.

"So I take it I didn't make things weird?" He chuckled, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"No, no. I'm actually really happy you said something. I'm kinda surprised. I uh, I like you too. A lot. If that wasn't apparent... and yeah, I also think you're cute. Very cute." You made the bold, sleep deprived decision to move your hand onto his bare waist, making him slightly twitch in pleasant surprise.

"Careful now. You're gonna give me a boner."

"Man you're so fucking dumb." The both of you laughed as you gave him a light, playful slap on the cheek. The rest of the night was spent sprinkling soft kisses on each other's faces and lazily making out. The romantic tension that had been building finally burst with your mutual confessions. Jon kept trying to spoon you throughout the evening, but in your exhausted state, you couldn't help but toss and turn. Every now and then, you'd feel a kiss on the back of your neck, or his hand resting on your waist. You could tell already that touch was his love language. Before you finally fell asleep, you ended up having to accept your nightly fate of being swallowed up in his arms. His chest hair tickled the back of your neck as he kept you pressed up against him. It was a much safer and cozy feeling then you were expecting. You had never felt so comfortable with the touch of another person before. It was one of the most restful, satisfying nights' sleep you had since you could remember.

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