#im not bad at fic writing but im not like good at it either lmao

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn’t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. “He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #this was a fun one! #whump #h/c #but mostly hurt lol #i know it's a lot of dialogue. my apologies i just love to write dialogue and HATE to write exposition lol #which is Not Good Writing but whatever #this is my horn snz blog not my doctoral thesis lmao

[bonescribes]

i have a lot of thoughts abt light's accident (rambling in the tags ahoy)

#❀ ooc . #several of them are conflicting #i cant decide if i wanna give light daddy issues or not #bc really what is a muse of mine if not a bundle of daddy issues #but anyway i read a fic once that posited light's dad was the reason the accident happened and im like :eyes: #i love a good angst moment #but also sometimes ur characters can just. have a normal family LMAO #and sometimes bad things happen and they arent bc of daddy issues #but hm hm im not sure ..... #either way i need to write a big thing abt what he was like afterwards bc like #the journey of old light to present day light is. a lot #look at his teen design he was a mf emo kid #i know in my heart he was NOTHING like he is in the present day and i need to talk about this #also side note : #claustrophobic light real #like. the accident mustve really bad right ?? imagine he was trapped in the car/the wreckage #claustrophobic light real !!!! #(its a rlly good thing he was asleep most of the time in the coffin)

[bluemeetyellow]

elaborating on the Power a scene of mike coming out to el would have... like just the fact that especially if mike goes thru an arc this season where he eventually feels safe enough to admit to himself that he’s gay and that he’s been hiding/repressing it to survive in Hawkins... and how that would line up with how El’s been running from her past for the last few seasons but in s4 she finally has to really confront it and so he’d understand, in his own way, what it’s like to always be hiding in plain sight because there’s people who want to hurt you that go along with the things you are burying... But how exhausting it becomes to always be trying to blend in and run away... and now he’s seen the way El was able to face her past head-on this season and it gives him the courage to want to stop running too and really reckon with what he’s been running from himself. Especially because now he knows he has people who.. *looks back at Will* who understand what it’s like and have found their own people and know places where they don’t have to hide who they are either. LIKE something like that would only strengthen their friendship while also giving each of them their own development. it just... god that would just be so beautiful :’)

OR THIS MONOLOGUE IS BEFORE THE SORTA CLIMAX OF THE ARC AND MIKE AND EL BOTH PROMISING EACH OTHER THEY’LL FACE THEIR OWN STRUGGLES HEAD ON... LIKE. COME ON YOU CAN’T TELL ME THAT DOESN’T HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO HIT LIKE A TON OF BRICKS!!

#ALSO THE NARRATIVE SIGNIFICANCE OF MIKES LAST MONOLOGUE BEING ABT ASKING WILL TO BE HIS FRIEND... #but now that feeling has grown to be something stronger than friendship.. so mikes monologue like this is sorta a transition in his life.. #like falling in love with will and wanting to be best friends with el still... not wanting to lose her over who he is and who he loves.. #(yes i just ref'd the Cant Fight This Feeling lyrics... i simply think that being the song playing the first time Hop tries to give his #heart-to-heart could be foreshadowing <3) #talk abt Subverting expectations by making ur platonic confession JUST as impactful as your romantic ones #(cuz i wouldnt accept half-assing the byeler shit either ofc not) #like damn ok maybe its cheesy but i Love that shit.. love my good ol fashion american sugar coated stories all right.. #litrlly they are best friends wahhh #listen at this point if s4 disappoints im gonna write SUCH a good and healing gay fantasy fix-it fic all right??? #i was in the fall 2019 it fandom i know the drill LMAO #i have the perfect sweet byler ending scene in mind like... <33 #its sweet but also opens up for my own personal theory for what s5 is gonna look like which is p dark.. n does include will w powers but in #diff way than ive seen most ppl discuss it.. #im so bad at watching tv cuz i always wanna write along w it LMAOOO #silver cat speaks

[noriakicatkyoin]

hmmmm kakyoin wip at 12k

#THE FIRST PART OF IT WAS SO BADDDD OH MY GODDDD I WASJUST GONNA REREAD IT RN I LITERALLY HAD TO REWRITE IT #FICS THAT YOU CAN TELL WERE WRITTEN WHEN YOU WERE OFF ANTIDEPRESSANTS LMAO #GOOD FUCKING GOD #it was soso bad imsorry past rohan WHYS IT SO MUCH BETTER NOW ??? WERE YOU INSANE AND STUPID ???? MY GOD #its fine now the rest is either actually half decent somehow or mediocre at worst. i can deal with that #icouldnt read the full intro. it like embarrassed me and i had to scroll away #had to rewrite it and wrote so much more that it collectively added 1k . #i did edit and add to another part though. swagging #i did write the intro as the first thing i wrote for this fic and um. i wrote that like at least a year ago i think lawl. oops… #youve given me unnecessary feelings #im only working on this bc im too tired to be at my computer rn doing real work . its Fine its Fineeee

[athenaistired]

𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 ❞

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 //

very nervous to post this ngl my heart is racing for some reason lmao. still not sure on the title of this fic cuz im not 100% certain if i will be writing a part 2, but if you guys will like this random idea that my brain produced on a tuesday evening then be sure to let me know. i can’t promise the timing of the chapters though bcz i have a very busy life, but i will try my best x

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜᴏᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ꜱᴜᴄᴄᴇꜱꜱꜰᴜʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴄʜ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ɪɴ ꜰᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ — ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ. ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴛ, ᴇʏᴇ-ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ʏ/ɴ, ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴀʟ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴀɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴀᴡᴇ. ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴍᴜᴛᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡɪʟʟ? ᴀʜ, ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ — ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ʟᴀᴡʏᴇʀꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛʀʏ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ.

art credit & word count: 5365

warning: homelessness, discrimination, growing up poor, violence, knife crime, description of physical wounds, hospitals, ptsd, muteness, psychological trauma, depression

— 𝑨𝑳𝑴𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑴𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 !1!

One of the first memories that you can recall back when you were only 4 years old — is your father crouching down in the middle of the street whilst picking up the coins that a rich bastard threw your way to have a good laugh with his friends. Your father was calling out for your name, screaming at you to help him and count all the mora, but you couldn’t move yourself out of the stupor. Your gaze was glued onto the laughing sickos that shamelessly pointed their fingers at your old man like he was a circus animal preforming for their entertainment.

That memory taught you two things. One, money was the access for power to do anything you could ever want. And two, money made people evil.

“Y/N, SNAP OUT OF IT ALREADY AND HELP ME!” You flinched at him as he grabbed your shoulders and shook you like a ragdoll. You quickly nodded, and crouched down by his side to collect the coins with your shaky fingers.

You felt something wet hitting your cheek, and with dread, you realized that it was not a raindrop. One of those assholes had spit right at your head. Right then and there — you wanted to aim a punch at his jaw to wipe off that smug, malicious smirk, but you knew you couldn’t do that. After all, you lived in Fontaine. These rich bastards definitely had the money, fame, and connections to put you behind bars for assault if you were to even try anything.

In the end, you were powerless. Because you didn’t have the money that they did. And because you were afraid to hurt people like they did. You were the two things — that made people weak.

If only you could change that, you would grasp at any chance that’d you get.

-

You stared down at the plate in front of you. It was a sad pile of canned beans, the same meal that you and your father had been eating for 2 weeks now. At least, you weren’t living with 4 roommates anymore how you had done in the past. You had no appetite, but you knew that you had to eat. You couldn’t get sick, and tomorrow you needed to have the energy to study and work around the house. Somehow, your father had actually managed to get the job working as the cleaner at the opera house, but it didn’t pay well.

Affording rent, food, supplies, and hygiene products sometimes felt impossible. Thankfully, you two fell in the lower range of income, meaning that there was no need to pay any taxes. And yet, your situation was not bad enough for the government to supply you with any financial aid. You two couldn’t even apply for bankruptcy, because then your father could potentially either lose the studio or his guardianship over you.

“Y/N, is there something on your mind?” Your father had asked, noticing that you were playing with your food.

“Daddy.. How do people become rich?” Your question made him pause, but he wasn’t surprised by its nature. After all, the only thing the two of you were thinking was money, money, money..

Money.

“That’s.. A difficult question, bunny.” He sighed, and wiped his mouth with a napkin before taking a sip of his water, “Some people are born into wealthy families, some people start get expensive supplies and sell them for massive goods, and some.. Are very educated, and they acquire successful jobs that pay well.” The look in his gaze grew heavy. He was only in his late 30s, but his wrinkles and eye-bags made him look older by at least 10 more years, “I’m sorry, bunny..

..Daddy is so sorry for not giving you a good life.”

Your father didn’t speak much of his past, but somehow you knew anyway. Your mother died during birth. When you were born your father was only half-way through his education, but had to abandon it in order to take care of you. He took two years off work, and both of you lived through his extra savings, until they had eventually ran dry. Your grandparents wanted nothing to do with your father. He was the last son out of 5, and they saw him as a leech trying to suck out their expenses.

And here you were.

Nothing to your name. Absolutely nothing. You didn’t even have friends, because children would always make fun of your clothes, and would always rub it in your face that you couldn’t afford to have toys like they did (from the fancy stores). Your dad many times crafted toys for you himself, but after one bully had broken a skillfully sculptured wooden doll of a horse that your father had spent hours perfecting — your toys became more than just mere “toys” — they were your little treasures. You didn’t want anyone to hurt them, as they were pieces of your father’s heart and love.

“Don’t say such silly things, daddy.” You got up from your chair and wrapped your hands around his neck; hugging him close. His form was shaking — he was holding back from crying as much as he could, “I am the happiest child in the whole of Fontaine.”

“Are you really?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Of course I am.”

You both knew that you were lying.

-

The older you got — the more you grew hungrier for knowledge. Your father on your 16th birthday gifted you new clothes, so you finally had something normal-looking to wear into the city. Most of your time you’ve spent in the library, studying everything that your eyes would land on. It seemed that you were a natural — you were meant for great things.

Subjects didn’t come easy to you, but you had the greatest motivation of them all — to be powerful. To have money. To built the life for yourself that was an opposite of the one which you had right now. You didn’t care if you had to be a doctor, a professor, or a lawyer. Anything would do, as long as you could actually eat warm food. Have nice clothes. Afford jewelry.

“Latin?” The librarian with curiosity picked up one of the books that laid by your side, “History, Biology, Anatomy, Herbology, Law, Politics, Sociology.. What subject are you actually trying to study?”

“Everything.” You answered with confidence evident in your voice, “I want to get a scholarship to the University of Fontaine.. My father can’t afford to pay for my tuition, so I have to be the best of the best.”

“You’re a star, Y/N. I bet one day I will be telling people that I used to see you everyday at this old, dusty library.” The woman petted your head in encouragement, and you blushed at her compliments and shyly looked away, “I am sure that no matter what you’ll pursue — you’ll excel at it. You’re clearly a born genius.”

“Y-you flatter m-me..” You played with the lock of your hair. It wasn’t everyday that you were showered in praise and encouragement, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, child.” The old lady then went back to the front desk where a few people were already waiting for her to either borrow or return a book.

-

“Daddy, I’m home.” You walked into your’s and your father’s new apartment.

From a studio, the two of you were now managing to afford a one-bedroom flat. Many times you begged your father to sleep on the bed, and that you would take the couch, but the stubborn man never budged. He wanted for his child to have all the best in life that he could manage to give. You always had bigger meals than him, better clothes, freshly washed sheets every week, a clean room, and a lot of hand-built furniture and toys. Of course you didn’t play with the toys anymore, but you were proud to display them on the highest shelf of the armoire.

“Welcome back, bunny.” You heard his voice from the kitchen. He was doing the dishes which have been rotting around in the sink for the past 3 days now. However, he didn’t blame you — he knew that you were getting ready for the exams, “How are your studies going?”

“They’re going well, daddy.” You reassured him, and quickly left to another room to change into a homey t-shirt, “Let me help you with the dishes.” You insisted, to which the old man scoffed.

“Nonsense.”

“Your hands are all roughed up and tired from the day! Please, dad.” You begged him, and the two of you exchanged a long stare, until he gave in and left to plop down on the couch.

“Have you decided who you want to be yet?” He asked you, and you ignored his question. This line always made your stomach turn and twist in anxiety, “I am not trying to put any pressure on you, bunny. It’s just.. It’ll be easier to prepare for an exam if you knew which direction you’d like to take.”

“I know, dad..” You answered back to him, finally turning off the tap and reaching for the tea towel, “I know.”

-

You were 19 now, growing older and wiser. You eventually learned to make clothes by yourself, so now you were able to not stand out from the crowd of aristocrats living in the heart of Fontaine, yet save money with the wardrobe treasures. Somehow, you managed to make friends. They were all home-schooled kids, and with a small twinkle about your background, you managed to find a way to fit in. Life was slowly building its stairs towards your ultimate success.

And then, the day of epiphany came.

“Dad! Dad! I got in, I got in!”

You jumped from happiest like an excited bunny — very fitting to the nickname that you’ve had your whole life. Your father proudly looked at the acceptance letter for the law course that you chose in the end. They accepted you on a scholarship, so you didn’t even have to pay for education.

“That’s my bunny! Look how smart you are!” He hugged you tight and you squeaked from happiness, “We must celebrate! I might even get us a bottle of wine! We’ll drink to thank the Archon for my smart Y/N!”

“Dad, stop! No way you’ll actually spend the savings on wine!” You laughed, still not believing your ears. Your father had never ever bought alcohol, and now he was willing to get a whole bottle for your sake? Felt like your birthday!

“Not all savings, but we have more than enough to enjoy a bottle of good wine!” You watched your dad walk up towards the bookshelf and move around a few of your books, to finally reach a small leather bag with some mora in it. Should be just enough for a nice dinner with a bottle of wine, “We are going to a restaurant — the best in town!”

“Really?!” You gasped in shock. You were both ecstatic, yet anxious. Wasn’t this all a bit too much? Shouldn’t this money be saved for something else?

“You’ve been working so hard — you deserve a day of celebration before you go off into the world to stand on your own feet. Let daddy treat you to a meal one last time, bunny.”

You felt touched to the bottom of your heart. It felt like you were about to burst into tears. All your life you’ve been waiting for this moment — to become someone. Someone whose name will be remembered and respected. You wanted to be someone who had money and power. You wanted to buy your father a house by the sea, so he could always enjoy the beautiful sights of Fontaine. You wanted freedom to do what’s desired — and you worked harder than anyone to reach such milestone in life.

“I will make you proud to be my father.. I promise.” You said through tears.

“Oh, bunny. I have always been so proud of you.” He breathed out a laugh, “Forever and always.”

-

Years passed by in a flash, and you just celebrated your 29th birthday in your office, with a box of cupcakes by your side made by your good friend Charlotte. You now had a bachelor’s degree, finished law school as one of the top students, and passed the bar exam with flying colors. On the side, you even managed to secure yourself a phD in Criminal Justice. You had a few years of practice at a pretty successful firm, and had connections all the way to the Chief of Justice. You never met him yourself, but you obviously had seen him before. He had your interest, that’s for sure, but you were far too busy with your own goals to pay attention to anything else. Your clients were loyal to you, and had blind trust in your capabilities. Your name was passed from one rich bastard to another, and soon you were amongst the top.

The little Y/N was probably looking up at you in complete awe and jealousy. You were exactly what they wanted to be back then. Professional, intelligent, and powerful. But as you stared at yourself in the mirror — your eyes were still empty, your heart was still unfulfilled, and your stomach was still rumbling from hunger.

You were just getting started.

Perhaps, one day you’ll be the right hand of the Chief of Justice. Or maybe you’ll take over his position as a whole. You were limitless. You were meant for greatness. You were meant for leadership.

“Y/N, a client is calling. He’s requesting a meeting today, and he is saying that it is urgent.” One of your assistants came up to you with a worried look on his face. You were already getting dressed to leave the office, but paused. You checked the watch, and shook your head.

“It is 7pm, and I finish working at 6pm. I already stayed overtime. Tell him to come back tomorrow, I think I have a free slot at 4pm if I am not mistaken.” You tried to pass by your assistant, but he followed after you like a clingy puppy.

“B-but.. Y/N!” He begged, because he hated when he had to deal with your stubborn clients. Especially, considering your reputation, majority of the people who contacted you were scary criminals, because they knew that you’d get their ass out of trouble no matter the crime.

“No buts, today I will be seeing my father. I haven’t seen him for 3 years, and my father will always take priority.” You decided to exit through the back door, so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the mess which was about to go down.

“B-but, Y/N, please!” You shut the door in his face and sighed. You really did feel bad for Achille from time to time, but he got very good overtime tips from you, so you knew that at the end of the day he will definitely have an extra bonus for a good bottle of whiskey.

-

“Now, where was I..”

Fontaine was a prestigious place, but that wasn’t an equivalence to safety. From time to time, you would hear pleasured gasps from the darkened alleys or pained moans of drug addicts shivering in the cold. But the sound which had especially caught your attention were footsteps that have been following you for some time now.

You took a turn.

The person took a turn with you.

You crossed the road.

They followed.

You could smell the malicious intent from the dark figure. You didn’t want to turn around, because then the person would know that you knew. You were panicking inside, but didn’t let it swallow you as you forced yourself to think. It was late, most places were closed by now. You couldn’t be alone right now. Some bars had to be open.

Right.

A bar.

You should go to the bar — now!

However, luck was not on your side, you couldn’t see a single bar in the area. You saw food shops, clothes shops, a local clinic, a library, a few cafés, however, not a single bar. The one that did catch your eye had been closed for 2 months now after someone got accidentally poisoned with the Primordial Seawater which accidentally made its way into their beer.

Strangely, this didn’t seem like a spontaneous ambush. The location had been carefully selected, and your escape options have been limited ahead. With a curse under your breath, you also remembered that today was one of the bank holidays. You were working today only because you never miss an extra pay day, but nobody else seemed to be as crazed for a paycheck as you.

Many people who got sent to jail by your work would always promise to hunt you down when they would be let out. However, you never thought about it happening because you haven’t been in the field for long enough for some of your foes to be freed. So, who was this? Who was stalking you?

You reached into your bag, and pulled out a small mirror in hopes of catching a glimpse in their reflection. Your palms were sweating, and you were shaking without realizing it. The next thing you knew — you cursed under your breath — as the thing fell out of your hands and shattered against the road.

The sudden noise, set everything into action. You sprinted off the spot into a run, and the stalker chased after you without hesitation. Now, your adrenaline was pumping your veins, and it felt like the intensity of it would make your heart stop from overdrive. You were never much of an athletic person, but you were running like never before. The sound of your shoes clacking against the embedded stones echoed across the ghostly streets. The stalker’s steps reminded you of the sound that the boots of a hunter made against the ground whilst chasing their prey. Silent, careful, and concenrated at their target.

You felt like a bunny being chased down by its predator — a wolf. You had all the power you wanted at your work, but when it came down to it — you were just as weak as you always have been.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, you had a stabbing pain in the side of your ribs, and you were now beginning to get an agonic heartburn — however — your legs didn’t stop moving. Your knees were starting to ache, your feet were getting sore at the back, your mouth and throat were turning dry as a desert with each passing second, but you knew that you had to keep running.

The moment you will stop — you will die.

You had no thoughts in the moment, just pure survival instincts have completely taken over control of your movements and body. You couldn’t focus on anything or come up with a clear plan — you were terrified for the first time in a while. Even when you and your father had lived on the streets, you were always allowed to wander off due to the safety. Where were the guards? Where were Fontainians? Why was it this empty around?

And then it felt like the time had paused.

The present had slowed down, and you could see everything happening in third perspective.

Your shoe platform broke against the slippery surface, and you lost your balance as you found yourself dropping down the stairs. You gasped; your ankle twisted in an unnatural way sending a jolting zap of pain throughout your whole body. But before you could even process what just happened — your body didn’t stop falling. You had nothing to grab onto, no one to help you, and so you kept falling.

You’re falling!

You’re falling!

There was a dull thud at the back of your head as you had finally reached the bottom of the staors. You barely felt it, and you thought that you could get up just fine, but your body felt too heavy. It protested against any of your attempts, and betrayed you at the worst moment. Your vision was darkening against your will. Your mind was still sound and clear, but your body had began to shut down from the pain shock and potential concussion.

Now, the speed of your thoughts began to fade as well. There was a sharp sensation at the lower base of your spine, and your knee felt like it was locked in an unusual position.

You fought for your eyes to stay open, and felt everything come to a stop as Death itself stared back at your pathetic little form laying in the middle of the street. No, it wasn’t Death, it was the stalker leaning down and crouching next to your chest. The stranger rose his palm in front of your lips, and you held in your breath.

Something at the back of your mind told you to play dead, and so you did.

5 seconds..

10 seconds..

15 seconds..

20 seconds..

25 seconds..

You could barely hold your face muscles from twitching, and your lungs were beginning to ache. The bastard was playing with you. You could almost imagine his maniacal grin burning holes right through you, waiting for you to hiccup a breath.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

It was getting too much.

You had to take a breath.

You had to.

You were about to do it—

And so you did.

With a gasp, you instantly opened your eyes and rolled yourself to the side just on time as the stranger smashed his pocket knife to where a second ago was your head. Adrenaline was back all over again, as now you knew that this wasn’t just a desperate creep — this man was here for your life.

However, something seemed strange. You were certain that some of your limbs were twisted in a wrong direction and a few of your bones were broken. If he really wanted to kill you — he would have done it already. No, he wasn’t after your life. He wanted to see the terror, the agony, the horror, and consume it like a delicious meal. This was sick, and personal. Personal didn’t mean that he knew you, but it could indicate that he got off to this expression of violence for selfish and distorted reasons.

“You coward!” You gritted through your teeth; your eyes flaring with hatred. You didn’t want to die like this. You didn’t fight for your whole life just for this sicko to take it all away from you, “HOW. FUCKING. DARE YOUUUU!!!”

The freak laughed at your scream, and sat down on top of your broken and twisted body with a blade shining up in the air. His grip was tight — you were terrified. So, so afraid. You were shaking, it was cold, and you wanted to cry. You were a strong person, but such an unfair Death shook you to the core.

The knife plunged down fast and unexpectedly, but your instincts were faster — it never reached your chest. You managed to grab the blade with your bare palms, and held it on tight. The pain was agonizing, and you screamed like a howling animal. Your bright red blood was streaming down your wrist onto your shirt, your face, and neck. The freak couldn’t stop laughing, as he tried to put all force into lowering the weapon slower, and slower.

You were beginning to lose hope.

In that moment you remembered that your other knee was perfectly fine. As soon as you gathered enough strength, you sent a massive kick with your leg straight into his groin. Thankfully, he was caught by a surprise, and you managed to then send you final blow — with your forehead — you smashed straight into his nose, and finally he was the one screaming in pain. For some reason, you felt much more powerful than usual. It felt like you would move a mountain if that was needed, as long as you could stay alive tonight.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

You heard sounds, people’s voices and commotion. Your screams were not for nothing, someone finally managed to hear you. There was a group of Fontanians rushing towards your aid. At their sight, the freak grabbed his knife and quickly ran away. You reached your palm towards his disappearing silhouette, however, before anyone could catch at least one sight of him — he was already gone.

Without even realizing it, you let yourself fall into a deep sleep.

-

You woke up in the hospital all alone. There were no nurses around you, no doctors, no friends nor your father. The memories quickly came back to you, but you felt still. Your heart was racing all over again, but you had no energy to fight or run anymore. The logical part of your brain had already determined that you were saved, and hospital was probably the best place for you to be at the moment.

You thought about your father who never saw you in the end that evening, you thought about how long you were unconscious, and whether your clients have managed to find someone to replace their defense. You had a tendency to always think about others, but never about yourself.

“Y/N is awake!” You didn’t even notice Achille coming into the room. The poor boy had almost dropped the coffee which he was holding as he desperately called for the doctor.

“Ah, Y/N, finally awake!” Another male came in with a huge comforting smile on his face. He was an older and wiser doctor; you could tell by his composed walk and worn-off glasses. The grey hairs and wrinkles reminded you of your father, but you would think about that later, “How are you feeling?”

A simple question.

Why couldn’t you answer?

You opened your mouth just like always to speak with the voice which had never betrayed you before — but nothing came out. With confusion, you gently grabbed at your own throat as if hoping that the warmth of your palms would fix it. Achille stared at you in shock, and quickly reached for a glass of water to give to you, which you gobbled down in an instant, but your voice refused to come back. A dry, weak cough came out which burned and itched your vocal cords.

Completely stunned and puzzled, you stared at the doctor in desperation for answers. What was happening with you?

“That’s quite an unpleasant surprise..” The older male mumbled to himself, “Could you please excuse me?” And at that he left, leaving you in internal silence which felt like it could swallow you whole. Eventually, he came back 20 minutes later with another 2 doctors by his side. They looked younger, but all had a cloned serious look in their eyes, “Y/N, these are my colleagues. This is Dr. Laurent, he is our head psychiatrist, and this is Dr. Allard, who is our neurologist. We are not sure what is happening here, but before we continue further evaluations, I will give you a rundown of your physical injuries thus far.”

The man pulled a small chair to sit on and picked up a file with your name on it. This must have been the report from other doctors and nurses who have been taking care of you.

“You have a twisted ankle, a broken kneecap, a torn meniscus, you’ve suffered a blunt injury to the back of your head and a concussion, and to top it all you had very severe injuries inflicted onto your palms with a sharp object which we suspect to have been a pocket knife. You have been in the hospital for 2 days, however, we have already performed a few surgeries to lower the risk of infection or the worsening of your condition.” You nodded your head to urge him to continue, “We have stitched up your meniscus, and treated the wounds on your hands. We have also applied a cast on your kneecap to help it heal. You were actually lucky — the kneecap will heal quicker than expected with majority of patients, however, the rehabilitation for the torn meniscus should take up to 4 weeks.”

You could already feel a headache hovering over your thoughts. You didn’t have time for this bullshit. You had work, you had father to take care of, you had clients to help, and money to make. How could this have happened? Why did this happen to you? You were hoping for that attack to have been a cursed nightmare, but the reality was too depressing to accept.

“Now, since there was no damage to your throat or vocal cords upon initial examination, we would like for the neurologist to ensure that your muteness is not a physical symptom.” The first doctor welcomed Dr. Allard to begin his job.

-

In the end — they have concluded for your muteness to be a PTSD response to the event. They told you to stay in the hospital until full recovery. This wasn’t just for health reasons, but also a safety precaution. It was obvious that you were brutally attacked by a psycho, it would be beyond insane to just let you go back home completely broken down, vulnerable, and mute.

You fell at the rock bottom once again. It has been a while since depression had visited you like this. It felt like an old friend who would come and go, but only appear when life would throw its most tough battles at you. You’ve clenched your fists at the thought of how vulnerable you were right now.

“Y/N is not well! They can’t answer your questions right now — have some respect!” You heard the commotion right outside your door which peaked your interest. However, you quickly put the pieces together as to who were the uninvited guests trying to force their way through to you.

“It won’t even take a minute, we promise!” The doctors were pushed out their way, and the door into your private resting room was burst open. You winced at the loudness of their voices, “Sorry for the.. Unprofessional entrance.”

Before you stood Navia, Aether and Paimon. You have known those 3 for a while now — after Traveler had helped save Fontaine a few months ago from the punishment of Celestia, you made sure to show personal thanks and gratitude in the name of your Nation. However, you haven’t spoken to the blond boy and his fairy since. Navia on the other hand often exchanged her investigation reports and crime theories with you, but the dynamic was still too frail to be called friendship. Perhaps, you just didn’t let anyone get close enough to actually become your friend.

“Y/N.. I am so sorry for what had happened to you..” Navia started with his soap opera phrases. You didn’t want that right now. You hated being pitied, “We will do everything in our power to find the one who did this to you and to your father — it is my promise to you, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened and you stared at her in absolute horror. You felt your blood run ice-cold as sudden lightheadedness took over your consciousness. You thought that you would throw up right then and there.

Your father?

What happened to your father?

WHAT HAPPENED TO MY DAD?!

The doctors quickly rushed in as the machines hooked to your body suddenly went off with a loud alarm — which startled you further. Your body was shaking, your mouth was open in a scream with no sound coming out. You grabbed at your head feeling like chaos had completely taken over your life.

“LEAVE — NOW!”

The doctor screamed at Navia and Traveler who stood frozen in place from shock at how quickly they fucked up. Things seemed to have escalated out of nowhere.

“They are going into a shock — quickly — or they might suffer another seizure!” Doctors were talking to one another as they took care of you to bring you back to them.

You couldn’t cope with this terrible reality.

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin #writing #genshin scenarios #genshin angst #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvilette x reader #genshin impact neuvilette #neuvilette x you #neuvilette x y/n #neuvilette angst #neuvilette imagine #heavy angst #hurt no comfort

[ohbo-ohno]

Love the idea of freshly kidnapped reader trying to bite soap when he gets too close and he coos at her, squishing her cheeks together ‘til her lips form a cute pout. “That’s cute, do it again and I’ll break your jaw.”

Then proceeds to fuck her in doggy, a foot on her head, a hand on her asscheek - squeezing from time to time and slapping it until she squeaks, and the other hand holding her arms behind her back as leverage.

Ghost just mindlessly scrolling on his phone beside them, not doing anything about their kitten’s little cries. With her arms practically tied up, and head mushed against the wet pillow from the drool of her leaking mouth, there’s no way she’d be able to scratch or bite now.

After Johnny’s rough fucking, darling cries - in need of some loving atp, that’s where Simon comes in. Tells his pup to lube his dick up by sucking it, before entering reader in missionary. Not letting her break eyecontact. He drives himself fully into her, slow but hard thrusts.

“You did this to yourself. Be good, and you’ll get treated nicely. Be bad again, and you’ll experience so much worse.”

Then he makes out with her. Lovingly <3

godddd i really don't write nearly enough mean soap. i write mostly either ghoap or ghoap x reader, and i always soften (for lack of a better word) both of them when i add in a reader, but i do lovelovelove the idea of soap being rougher and meaner with his pretty girl :(

i really do think soap is largely driven by his instincts. he's impulsive, and when he doesn't need to slow down and think, he doesn't. he wants to fuck you, so he does. you piss him off, so he's angry, so he takes it out on your body. he's got no reason to force himself to slow down when you couldn't leave him no matter what he does <3 the only restriction he has is from ghost, and simon's usually pretty willing to let johnny rough you up when you've been bad (it's a good reminder of your place, and simon loves the way you get all huffy and glare at johnny the next day, he thinks you're adorable)

btw im thinking of soap fucking you so hard that he nearly passes out himself, flops to his back next to you panting once he's come down, and doesn't have enough energy to properly suck ghost's cock :/ ghost gets to fuck two limp holes since johnny did all the hard work for him <3

also i loooove dark fics with the abuser actively hurting their victim but saying "it didn't have to be like this, i could've been nice". for some reason i don't care to examine that victim blaming reallyyyyy works for me lmao. ghost cradling you close and going "hush, i know, johnny got mean, huh? i coulda stopped him, y'know. coulda tugged his leash, maybe gotten him a muzzle, but you needed to learn, lovie. needed him to show you how mean he could be, make you see how nice he usually is. you didn't like him being mean, did you? no? i know, lovie, i know, so you're gonna behave now, aren't you?"

#asks and answers #ghoap x reader

[pennydoe]

PLEASE tell me more about the Saskatchewan slasher au, I desperately wanna draw some stuff for it, it looks so cool

OK SO BASICALLY it's in the 1980s cause i LOVE old 80 and 90s slashers, and The choir r more or less the schools newspaper/yearbook committee and stuff. Penny is the new girl, having recently moved to Uranium for the same reason in Legoland, y'know.. the weed smoking shit lmaooo but uh-

(this is all a wip btw i migjt change it cause i haven't really had time to myself the last few weeks)Basically Penny joins yearbook and the school paper to get to know some people, and she's a instant hit with them all, especially ocean cause ofc i gotta make it perfectdolls, but being in those two groups makes noel and especially ocean way to curious for their own good so they drag penny along to a abandoned house they've heard strange reports about and find smth in it (im still deciding if it's gonna be like a haunted book or some relic i honestly don't know) and it ends up in Penny being possessed by a demon/ghost/witch and essentially becoming Jane, but a extremely murderous version.

Noel and Ocean have to flee from Jane, or Doll-Face, and find the rest of 'choir' and they sorta have to figure out a way to save penny and also stop her from her murder spree, and first they gotta actually FIND HER and not let her kill THEM.

It's mostly Noel, Ocean, and Penny/Jane centered ofc cause the choir splits off into two groups to try to cover more ground, so Savannah (Ricky ofc, I just love the Savannah HC), Constance, and Mischa are all in their own group doing seperate research so they can cover more ground..

uhmmm i don't really like Noel's outfit but i Aammmm struggling on designing it a bit, But Jane does wear the same stuff as Penny ofc and i'm still designing the rest of the choir.. Maybe i'll write a fic of if? Idk man.. i'm to stressed lately to really write

here's some unfinished doodles from when i was first coming up with the idea, i really like the post of Jane in the second one so i migjt finish that ..

I wanna finish the designs for the others tomorrow but the issue is i have like... 6 school projects to finish and it's getting so bad to the point i tnink im developing marie antoinette syndrome.. it's either that or i'm paranoid lmao

#ride the cyclone #ride the cyclone au #ocean o'connell rosenberg #penny lamb #noel gruber #jane doe rtc #legoland #Saskatchewan Slasher RTCAU #poopart🌀 #perfectdolls

[boyfhees]

TAKE TWO | diluc

PRECIS. amidst rain and regrets, diluc asks you for another chance ( 1.58k )

GENRE. angst, bittersweet maybe, exes to ?

WARNINGS. they only talk like, 5 times in the whole fic, mentions of breakups, reader has emotional trauma bro, tea ( literally ) bc im a coffee supremacist, unedited version my old friend 🫶

NOTE. for my bestie and the best writer on this site @wolfhookk like u can never not fall in love with her writings, someone tell this to her until it's imprinted in her head. bff ily i hope u like this red hair man angst 🧎 ps there are a lot of lang leav references. ALSO THANK HER BC IF IT WASN'T FOR RI I WOULDN'T HAVE WRITTEN ANOTHER GENSHIN WORK ANYTIME SOON LMAO

“i don’t usually invite my exes to my house,” diluc shoots you an apologetic look, or maybe that’s how you perceive it. you were once good at reading his expression, now you no longer know how to do that, for the person in front of you feels like a stranger.

he doesn’t say anything, not that he has to. diluc thought it was fate, but then he realised it’s a mere coincidence. it rained without a forecast and you being the kind soul you are, let him stay over until the rain stops. and even though you told him to not read too much into the situation, you don’t think diluc understood a word, judging from the way he still looks at you with a lovelorn smile.

something shifts in the air after you step into the kitchen, almost half-a-way through the process of making his preferred choice of tea. there’s a dramatic pause right before you pour it into the cup, watching the wisp spin into the despairing air surrounding you in the kitchen. you take a step back, running your mind over all the moments you and diluc spent together, looking through the first mention of him in your memories— it’s gone, you conclude, faded or perhaps, hidden behind the blankets of sorrow and remorse.

your attention shifts back to the tea as you proceed to pour it into the cup, wondering why you still remember how to make his favourite tea the way he taught you, or how much sugar he prefers. you press your mind to come up with an excuse before all these things, they don’t make sense to you; not anymore.

“you still buy tulips everyday,” his voice drives you out of your thoughts. you pick up the tray, making your way into the living room, placing it on the centre table before taking a seat by the farthest corner on the couch.

your gaze follows his eyes, settling upon the wilted tulips resting on your kitchen counter. the truth is— you don’t want to buy them, but something about watching the tulips every time you pass by the kitchen puts you at ease. you don’t know the reason, you don’t wish to know either. the first time you bought tulips was for diluc’s first birthday after the of you had moved in together. it wasn’t the first time; in fact, he had a habit to buy flowers for you. a new bunch, a new arrangement, every single day. but something changed after that birthday. whether for good or for bad, diluc never purchased anything flowers except tulips. he says it’s because they reminds you of him, and you reasoned it saying that you’re down to settle with anything that makes him happy.

though, you don’t know if that’s the case anymore. the tulips, perhaps they’re for you. a reminder to never forget what you had, and a mnemonic for everything that you both could’ve been before everything withered down.

“and the tea still tastes how it used to,” he mutters above the silence intoxicating the atmosphere. there’s a sense of nostalgia in his voice, a hint of yearning in every word that rolls off his lips; and it all contradicts the words he said to you two years ago.

his words would’ve meant a lot more if he said them before he made mistakes that could never be corrected and before you decided to cut the string and walk on a separate path. that’s the tragedy of growing up— you’ll run out of feeling something new for the first time. the sad thing is; you only get so much of those moments— a handful if you’re lucky— and then you spend the rest of your life turning them over in your head.

maybe that’s why he meant as much to you as he did, and why you held on for so long even after knowing things wouldn’t work out. you didn’t know it back then, but he was the last time you would ever feel anything new.

“diluc—” your voice is almost quite, a bit above what classifies as a whisper, dripping with hesitation and groundless assumptions. “this means nothing.”

the need to classify that stays far beyond your comprehension, but you take a look at him and realise that he knew it, nonetheless. his hopeless eyes tell you that it’s all because of the impromptu rain; the way his gaze flutters all around the room, never residing upon you hints that diluc knows you invited him out of decency, and there’s no point hoping for this to morph into something more.

“i know,” he smiles, because you invited him over as someone you used to know; someone you wouldn’t have looked back at if not for the comical play of destiny.

you let silence lead the next few minutes. the sound of rain fading into nothing as it ceases to pour; a question pops inside your head— is he in a relationship? it’s stupid, knowing it’s none of your concerns now that he isn’t a part of your life anymore. your mind knows it’s useless, your heart craves an answer, and you wonder if the mind ever answers the heart. the way it keeps conjuring up what’s no longer there. you don’t know why you keep swinging like a pendulum between pulling him close and pushing him away, which you know the mirage will never be true. but the heart does not have eyes and the mind cannot resist when it asks, just one last time.

diluc puts the cup back on the tray, mumbling a soft thank you before wiping his hair with the towel around his neck, the one you had given him before letting him inside. “i heard you never dated after we broke up,”

there’s a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and it takes you a few minutes to recognise it for what it was— remorse. he looks at you, half defeated, half hopeful, as if he’s aware of the damage inflicted upon you, all because of his mistakes. you feel something linger in the silence, a broken fragment of memory, or perhaps the essence of unsaid words pressuring the air, forcing you to succumb to sorrow. it takes you back to when you were looking at him, desperate and with your hands into front of him to intertwine with his, and he called your name as if it pained him to say it. you don’t realise when it had stopped raining, or when the clock struck eleven, just the way you didn’t realise when the love between you and diluc shattered down to a chore.

he stands up, typing something on his phone which seems like texting, before his attention shifts back to you. “i’ll get going,”

“right now? it’s eleven at night. you can stay—” and a pause. it’s reminds of the very first time you had asked him to stay over; the night that ignited sparks of something between you and him that set ablaze when you kissed him because of a game of spin the bottle. “i mean, it’s too late and dangerous to drive back, especially in this weather.”

“i’ll stay at a friend’s for the night.” he states, you nod in response. there’s a glint of disappointment in your voice; perhaps you were hoping for something more, perhaps a closure— a chance. you don’t know why you had high expectations when you swore to never see him again. falling in love is dangerous. it’s like holding your heart in your fist and letting it go— one finger at a time. you know it’s getting out of your hold, slipping through your fingers, yet you can’t do anything. there comes a point when you’ve let it get out of your grasp, surrendering it to someone; and falling out of love is like walking hand in hand with death because your heart lies somewhere astray, with someone else, but you have to move on.

because first love is never the first person you give your heart to— it’s the first one who breaks it.

you follow him to the door, noticing his every single move as he slips into his coat, followed by his shoes. you realise that you’ve always loved him more than yourself; so much more than even after all these years, every single piece of your heart years for him, or even a part of him, knowing that if there’s someone responsible for all the days and nights you’ve spent spilling tears on your pillow, it’s him. it’s like a tender sacrifice; like a faint silence felt in the lost song of a mermaid; or the bent and broken feet of a dancing ballerina. it’s in every considered step you’ve taken in the opposite direction of him, and his every word that drove you away from him.

diluc stops as you were about to shut the door, looking you in the eyes for the very first time that night. “i know everything that happened was my fault,” he begins, and you wonder if you’re ready for another one of those apologies he offered you after you broke up with him, but his eyes tell a whole ‘nother story. “but in future, if you find yourself in a position to fall in love again, please fall in love with me.”

and the second you tried to tell yourself that you weren’t in love anymore was the moment you realised you were, and you’ve always been.

taglist in the rbs.

#prod. — caelin. #album. — genshin. #genshin x reader #genshin impact #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc angst #genshin angst #diluc fic #genshin fic #diluc headcanons #genshin headcanons #diluc drabbles #genshin drabbles #naur i need to know ab popular genshin tags i cannot copy the hq format 😞💔

[mostlymaudlin]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers 💫

thank you @decaflondonfog for the tag !! ill tag @sillyunicorn @starwarned @urban-sith @tea-brigade

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

98!! (woah) plus an unrevealed t&n fest fic, so 99. wow i need to do something rly crazy for 100 lol. what if i do a ridiculous crossover of all my fandoms and everyone in the fandom tags will hate me. 

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

544,914. (again. woagh)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

mostly all for the game and simon snow series, have dabbled in & posted even less for check please, captain america, and one direction! i feel like i’m missing something but regardless my fixations are hardcore, so all except like 4k of that posted wc is for either aftg or ss hahahha

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

all are andreil! boyfriend privileges (4k, T) / Trigger (62k, E) / flashes of intimacy (10k, t) / Would you still love me if I was a worm? (6k, T) / Inside Thoughts (1k,T)

man this is long, rest is going under the cut lol

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

not very often, but i wish i did. i am stricken with a combination of being really awkward when people are nice to me & being bad at interacting with anyone in ways i fear could be perceived as ingenuine. im not sure if that makes sense LMAO. and sometimes when i put a story out, i kind of feel like i’ve said my piece — i’ve put so much into it that i don’t really know what else to say!

anyway, i always reply to questions, because that’s got clear social boundaries hahaha, and i DO love talking abt my stories!! and sometimes i’ll reply to comments that really get me thinking. but yeah, i know i reply less than i could, and i want to like double down on the fact that i am endlessly grateful for everyone who has ever left a comment on my work <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i have killed simon snow twice lmfao. i’d actually classify icarus as rather hopeful — it’s about grief & healing. but legacies is just fucked up lmfao

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

oh man, i write a lot of happy endings haha. i feel like even when my story is tonally darker (rare), it still has a happy or at least hopeful ending. this is probably not the correct answer, but i think sing of the moon has a really vividly happy ending. like — the sun rises for the first time in the whole fic! amazing. or maybe my high school au, We Can Live Forever, which is just the happiest thing i’ve ever written. 

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really, thankfully! people are smartasses sometimes but overall ive been lucky. there have been a couple of fics where ive winced before hitting post, but it usually ends up fine

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yessss. i guess i mostly write tender smut, bc i write tender things in general. i think my smut tends to be rather exploratory/playful as well? intentionally sloppy and awkward choreography hahaha

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

sort of LOL. once upon a time i was betaing @tea-brigade's medieval snowbaz au, Reliquary of an Arsonist, and there’s this part where three highway bandits mug simon and baz and then get blasted by simon’s chosen one magic. i am sick in the head so im in the google doc like “lol what if its kandreil.” and then i was like… what if it was kandreil….. and so i wrote Reliquary of a Bandit

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don’t think so

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!!! and i’m really thankful for everyone who has done so <3333 shoutout to russian aftg translators, yall go HARD

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i recently collaborated with @thewholelemon on our episode of Star Trek: Redemption, Heart-Shaped Box. by which i mean: i wrote the outline & a few scenes, got really overwhelmed, and jenny turned it into something worth reading! 

i also wrote Good Boy in the snowbaz stoner verse with @starwarned, which was rly fun — we sat in the google doc for like, 5 hours trading back and forth on POVs as we wrote pure porn together LOL. it’s funny to think about this, because lauren knows like everything abt me now but we did not know each other as well back then!!! and we were just like “yeah lets write porn together” hahahahha 

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

right now it is deeefinitely andreil… they are everything to me for reasons i just cannot possibly be brief about LOL so ill just leave it at that

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i have a postcanon snowbaz time travel/time loop wip that i was going to try to write for COBB this year but i fucked up the deadlines then the brainrot was like “guess that means more andreil !”. i did SO MUCH research for it and i think it’s rather clever and smutty and fun bc they are yeeted back to watford era! but it’s also dealing with snowbaz, who are in their late 20s and are like in a relationship low point/actively fighting when they end up in the loop… so they are dealing with that tension at the same time as they are trying to get out of the loop. and also fucking around watford to fulfill fantasies HAHAHA

16. What are your writing strengths?

characterization is the thing i care most about! and i think that’s the draw of fanfic in particular to me — i love getting such a grasp on a character that i can translate them into endless situations while still making them feel true to self. i rarely let myself publish anything until i can read through the whole thing without any he would not fucking say that moments hahahha. this is of course pertaining to my own interpretations of the characters, which is the only thing i care abt lmfao

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i rely a lot on body language because im always writing abt reticent fuckers who cant use their words. but i think i sometimes overcompensate, or describe actions that don't actually fit the scene. i've seen this described as "cheek-biting" -- like, throwing in action during a conversation just to delay the pacing/further the tone, but when you really look at it, it's not necessary. (cheek-biting being like, "character bites at their cheek" in the middle of a tense conversation)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i don’t really know any other languages! i think i’ve put a little bit of french in neil/kevin/baz POVs before, but my french knowledge is elementary at best. love the idea of it though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

one direction babyyyyyyyy !! i wrote quite a bit of it in like 2012-2015 but published very little. there’s 1 on my ao3, some lost somewhere on fanfiction.net (i dont rmr my username lol), and tons in my folders from my old laptop lol.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

hmmmmm. im gonna cheat bc i cant pick a single favorite. i always say i think No Turning Back is some of my best writing from a craft standpoint, and it also includes my favorite type of conflict (andrew self-destructing lol). however, i reread both that fic & We Can Live Forever on a plane trip recently after not having touched either for 6+ months — and the solidness of We Can Live Forever actually surprised me, especially because i wrote the majority of that fic while i was stoned and also view it as just exceedingly silly. the world of it is just very rich, and also very very different from the typical character backstories, and i’m very proud of how much that reread played with my heartstrings.  

ok last one — there are several installments of my flashes of intimacy series that i come back to a lot, because i’m proud of what they each accomplish in 500 words. especially because i often turn to those when im trying to express my own emotions lol. specifically, my favorites are picking fights, i don’t mind, swimming lessons, and practicing gratitude.

that was such a bullshit and cocky way to answer this lmfaooooo. but tbh i am my own biggest fan and that is by design — i write stuff so that i can reread it months later and have it be perfectly catered to my tastes. i love all my fics <3

#my writing

[jhuzen]

Me the Waman guy, i love Wamans, happy women's day to all. My Ask would be affectionately asking for M!Reader returning from a mission completely wounded, going to the kitchen, giving a kiss in (Character you feel comfortable writing) and saying he missed her and refusing to let her go

beauty in simplicity [m.reader]

IM SO DANG LATE FOR THE WOMEN’S DAY. BUT BUT HERE IT IS SJAIDMCIWDC. lmao this fic’s process is just me recalling what it’s like to romance the only woman i dated after eating half of the men population because i cannot for the life of me write an m/f in a breeze. good times. ANYWAY. I’M A SIMP FOR THE TRAVELERS. SO I CHOSE LUMINE 😭 except there’s a catch,,, tis abyss lumine <3

𖦹 angst (moderate to heavy), death, fluffy in the end, abyss lumine, fairytale allusions

“Sire, the opposing force have been dealt with.” the Abyss Lector behind you had a hint of somberness in its voice. And even then you can understand why — your current expedition in accordance to the current plan of the Abyss Order did not exactly go off so well. There were vision holders brave enough to fend off you and your comrades.

Though it took their fickle lives away in the end, that did not mean your party suffered some collateral damage. It wasn’t the prettiest battle after all, and as your greatsword stayed planted on the ground littered with gallons of spilled blood from either parties, you can only grieve for your comrades.

“…Okay. Thank you.”

“Shall we get you treated, sire? You’re in quite a bad shape.”

You drew in a deep shaky breath as your long gone adrenaline aided you in feeling the most excruciating pain all over your body. You weren’t a clumsy man on the battlefield, but some of the weaker links had to be protected, and you figured it’s either them or you — and a captain never yields in front of his comrades, nor does he allow them to perish when he’s close by.

But even then you couldn’t find yourself completely able to treat these wounds, allowing them to fester within you like a parasite that gnawed and destroyed your body from the inside out. You’ve had plenty of battle scars already, that much you couldn’t particularly deny — but it’s the sheer fact that today was somehow managed to hit you harder than the most, that there was a blatant realization of the fact that today, you lost many of your men.

You honestly wondered how you can even sleep at night at this point. Your fellowmen, cursed with the eternity of immortality and with you all the same — for centuries you’ve had to witness everything, every death, every betrayal, and every conundrum knock you down.

But you would endure it for her. Your princess. And as her knight, you would do well in not dishonoring her name, you would keep waking up in that accursed morning if it meant you could aid your beloved princess in her mission — even if it meant you had to bear these scars your whole life… until this curse is lifted from you, until you can’t take it anymore.

Your silence was enough to worry the Abyss Lector, you were normally on the move, constantly walking around to check on whoever survived, supervising every little thing, mourning your fallen comrades. But today, you were so quiet, and even the Abyss Lector could barely hear your shallow breathing despite the little distance between the two of you. Concern lingered on your subordinate as you stewed in silence.

“Sire? Shall I carry you to the infirmary?”

Taking one last breath, you shook your head, “No, thank you. Let me bear the wounds that my brethren bled for a little while longer.” Your hand grasped the handle of your greatsword, pulling it out of the ground, with a consistent strength that you could never lose even after the most tiring battles. “It’s the least I could do.”

If your subordinate could openly express himself to you right now, you would’ve seen the way his eyes softened yet gleamed with pride for you. No doubt that the princess choosing you as her champion was not a mistake in the slightest. For the great strength that you bore came with absolute sympathy for the men around you — leading them to victories with your quick-witted strategies and boosting their morales with the glory and valor you emanated.

Truly the princess deserved someone like you.

Slinging the greatsword over the sheath that hung on your back, you finally turned to your subordinate, eyes glinting with determination and persistence like always, “…Alright, let’s get to work. Run me the statistics of all results, I need to see how many survived and how many died, we can base our next counterattack against vision holders from there. Bury the casualties in a grave… as despicable as they are… they still deserve a proper one.”

The Abyss Lector had no problem adhering to your commands as well as everyone else who can still move and do your bidding — and just like that, with the captain up and running again, the Abyss Order was back on its gears, ready to complete the mission.

Out of all the things that happened, you managed to accomplish the mission that was given to you, heading back into the depths of abyss to aid your wounded comrades, still refusing the many help offered to you from your other subordinates. The princess was nowhere to be found, no doubt making some arrangements herself somewhere else. And much after tending to everyone else, you finally found yourself walking back to your own home.

Perhaps there was something relatively odd at the sight of the great captain of the Abyss Order lugging around his greatsword deep in the woods. You should know, considering the fact that the Abyss became your home. But the humanity left in you was enough to convince the larger part of you that was consumed in darkness to retain some form of normalcy, to live like any other human right now, despite being completely ostracized from the society.

Your home was quaint and peaceful, deep enough so that no wandering adventure would stumble upon it. You’ve heard plenty of stories from some others — apparently some of them had the audacity to loot through some villager’s crates and even steal some root crops.

Nevertheless, it was the escape that you sought from your work. You never needed a little abode like this, you were perfectly fine in the depths of abyss, stewing in it, facing any harbinger that might have descended into it and some poor unfortunate soul that stumbled in unknowingly.

But what you didn’t expect was the smoke coming out of that tiny chimney protruding from the roof of your home. And as if there was a switch flipped within you, suddenly you regained your senses and could smell the faint aroma of that familiar herbal tea that you often shared with your beloved princess.

“Ah… she’s home…”

Your pace picked up and entered your home quick, and you were facing the illustrious princess of the abyss — your beloved, the woman you would absolutely die for and only live to ever serve, was there brewing some tea.

Lumine was far into her own world as she basked in the silence of your shared home. Admittedly, she was surprised when she saw that you managed to make enough time to construct a formidable home in the midst of the tasks she delegated on you. And when she was faced with such a place, warmth only managed to spread through, greatly reminding her of her times with her brother.

She had known you far before she woke Aether up, standing in as the personal knight of one of the most prominent noblemen in Khaenri’ah, protecting him and his lonesome self. Many times had she encountered you when she and Dainsleif had to cross blades with you before because of your neurotic employer.

Who would’ve thought that you would end up working under her in the Abyss Order — much less for you to be her most cherished person now other than her brother; with the countless nights she has spent in your arms, limbs entangled with each other and the bedsheets, living through this quiet forest like a carefree couple.

Lumine jolted as she felt a pair of arms snake into her waist, holding her tight. The familiar warmth engulfed her back and she couldn’t help but lean into your tender hold, closing her eyes with a content smile.

Up until she smelled a faint scent of blood — her eyes flew open and looked down to see your arms that embraced her form, your sleeves torn apart and hacked away with dried blood. She grimaced at the sight of your wounds that would no doubt leave yet another mark on your skin.

“Hey…” her soft murmurs reaches your ears and you can feel Lumine’s gentle hands tracing against your forearms, “You didn’t get yourself patched up?”

She never bothered asking if something went south. She’s intuitive, she can infer that beyond your exhaustion, there was somberness in your arrival. And she can only imagine what happened in that assignment that she sent you and your subordinates back on.

She would mourn them for you and with you. They were her comrades too, after all.

You can only stay silent as the bitterness that enclosed your heart gnawed away at your insides like a pest. Your grip around Lumine tightened as flashes of your men dissipating in ashes appear in your mind like a flash of a kamera, drawing in a shaky breath, you can only nuzzle your nose in your beloved’s soft blonde hair, inhaling that familiar scent that never failed to bring you solace.

Lumine pressed herself further into you as she understood your refusal to let go, her hands slithering under yours before bringing them up, leaning down to brush her lips on your wounds into a sweet kiss — it won’t be enough to heal, but it’s enough to make you feel much safer and better.

“Look, the sunset is directly in view of our window,” Lumine calls onto your attention and you were quick to look up from her tufts of hair, your gaze finding itself fixated on the setting sun that peeked through the tiny window of your kitchen. “I believe that’s everyone about to go to sleep with the stars. They’re saying goodbye to their captain.”

A laugh escapes your parched throat, “Don’t make this any sadder, love.”

“I’m not. It’s a resolution,” you can feel her head shift to the side and lean on your shoulder, her eyes glued on your face, “Something that you need.”

You shook your head, “You know me so well.”

“It’d be crime not to after a good five hundred-odd years.” Her laugh tinkled and the pain that you harbored was slowly being alleviated, leaving you completely breathless yet so full of life at the same time. It was why you admired her so much, and why you of all people are willing to go with her until the ends of this god-forsaken world.

“Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up. It’s almost tea time.”

You stilled in your place despite Lumine’s words, staying rooted as you continued to bask in the lovely orange hues that filtered through the windows of your home, head lolling to drop on her shoulder before you pressed a kiss on the side of her neck.

“Just a little while longer.”

“…Until the kettle starts screaming.”

“I can deal with that.”

It’s times like these that can have you forgetting the fact that you weren’t a cursed being, that you weren’t serving under an Order that’s paving a path of vengeance and salvation. It’s as if you were back in Khaenri’ah, back before the cataclysm, back when you first felt your heart thrum against your chest the day you and Lumine clashed blades against each other.

For once, there was peace and tranquility that nestled in your heart.

And even amidst the whistling kettle, that couldn’t stop you from planting a kiss on her forehead, “I missed you, Lumi.”

But even Lumine thought a forehead kiss was a bit too cheap, as she grabbed onto your cheeks pulled your head further down, meeting your lips halfway with a chaste and tender kiss.

“And I, you, my love.”

This is a testament that even fairytales can come true, with the princess and her knight in shining armor finally settling down in a nice home to hold their love and memories with each other.

#I MIGHT MAKE AN ABYSS AETHER VERSION #JASNSIDMAKSMC #genshin impact x male reader #lumine x male reader #traveler x male reader #lumine x reader #jhuzen’s stupid one shots

[kurtsascot]

E, F, M ❤️

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

im not sure if i identify with any characters? it’s not really something that matters to me!!

when i was younger, i tended to morph my personality into those of my favorite characters as i was discovering who i was, but i don’t do that any more.

being a people pleaser i can relate to blaine, but i wouldn’t say that we are alike. aside from you know. a general love for kurt puppet.

F: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with your fics?

treading water and klueless both have associated playlists!! i get nervous sharing music related to my writing because i’m not listening to anything incredibly unique and it can make everything feel more personal, but i listen to music as i write, and those two playlists either helped inspire me or, for klueless, get me in the headspace to write.

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with?  Did it turn into a story?

ive def had weird aus in the past but my memory is so bad ..i dont remember what they could have been from previous fandoms.

weirdest scenario is maybe klaine!femboy hooters ?? lol very unlikely to ever get written bc there is No Plot really its just vibes….

the premise was essentially that sebastian was blaines ex and dragged him there as a joke/to show off his new bf, and kurt was blaine’s waiter. and like, femboy!hooters isn’t blaines thing but he keeps coming back because kurts just pretty and hes a good listener. and kurt likes that blaine isnt grossly hitting on him 24/7…. (its essentially an excuse to imagine kurt in glittery eyeshadow….lmao….)

#asks #crys #THANKS!!!! #personal

[verflares]

hey!!!! i LOVE your totk fic and adore the way you write and was genuinely curious as to what your writing process is like?? i’m still trying to get to grips with writing but im stuck in the endless loop of editing while i write so i end up never finishing anything 😭😭

hello!! first of all, thank you so much! i get so ^_^ whenever someone tells me they enjoy my work, words can't express how much i appreciate it now, as to answer your question, i would say.... chaotic LMAO. it's a little difficult to put it into words, especially to describe it because like... how You do things feels natural, right? but umm... i usually have an idea of what i Want to happen in the chapter planned out before i start writing, so i'll divide it into chunks. i'll usually put a little synopsis of the scene in each to help both guide my direction and remind me of what i'm doing as i write. as someone who actually also prefers to edit as i write, i feel it's been a good method in making sure i don't get overwhelmed! especially if i'm having a slow or bad writing day. as for getting out of editing loops, my usual go-to is to just... leave it and move on. i'll do this either by putting a little comment next to it (something like, a very loose reminder or even an idea of how i want the paragraph or interaction to play out), or jumping ahead to a different part of the chapter entirely and chipping away at that instead. here's a little example (from a snippet of the next chapter i'm still working on lol):

by the time i come back to what was giving me trouble, i usually realise it's fine the way i left it, or writing ahead has given me some new ideas of how to pad it out properly! i feel what's most important and encouraging for me, personally, is Progress - and that can be non-linear, too! as long as i've chipped away at the chapter in some form or other, i feel happy.

this is what i mean by chaotic, because it's a bit... all over the place LOL. i also don't do first drafts for example 💀 (but this is also because editing as you go makes it mostly non-essential imo) but i dunno! everyone's creative process is different, and if you find yourself struggling with something, it may just be good to either step back or just chip away at something else for awhile! you may be surprised at what your brain will come up with in the meantime

finally, if i could offer one more piece of writing advice, it's Reading. read, read, read! whether it be fanfiction or published works, nothing - and i mean nothing - will help you more than reading. exposure to other people's styles, their prose, will genuinely help you so much in your approach to your own work, and even ideas for what you're struggling with! and i obviously don't mean plagiarism or anything like that either of course. i just mean that considering what you Enjoyed about that creator's work will help you develop your own, and in the process, creating your unique style and process. it's the same for art and music - the creative process, especially if you're still getting used to a hobby, is filled with evolution and finding out what you enjoy about it. try things out! see what works for you! have fun with it, and remember that you are creating for Yourself most of all. (reggie fils amie voice) because if its not fun, why bother

#LONG POST I'M SORRY but uhhh i figure its a good reference point?? #genuinely i just wing things a lot. the more you practice at something the better you'll become #and remember tht Nothing will ever be perfect but thats okay! we are our own worst critics #ANYWAYS i hope this was helpful or insightful ?? even a little bit lol #if there's more i can say or clarify i will Try My Best #ask

[ambrosialdesire]

idk if you’re comfortable with nsfw so you could ignore this if you want…

but what kinks do you think the aot men have as yanderes… 😏

lmfao anon, most of my fics are straight nsfw or have implications of nsfw in them, it's alright to send in nsfw reqs/messages haha (this is not me being mean, im saying this in a joking tone hehe) and sorry this took so dang long to post, i decided to make this my blog's anniversary post LOL

since you didn't mention anyone specific, imma do reiner, eren, levi, zeke, and jean. you already know i'm always gonna put reiner in LMAO eren and levi and jean cause i kinda already have a feel for them in yandere writings, and zeke cause idk why not lol

i'm kinda doing main kinks? 4-5 of them for each of them but idk, i'm just writing whatever works for them in my perspective even though any of the kinks can work for either one of them in certain situations lol and i'm terrible at making long headcanon lists so it's just me blabbering and trying my best to describe the scenarios 💀

NGL THIS IS PROBABLY A REALLY UNPOPULAR OPINION but i don't really like when headcanon lists are like one sentence long and they never go in depth about it or when they make each bullet point a sentence that correlates to the previous point IDK WHY IT IRKS ME SO BAD AND SOME PEOPLE MIGHT LIKE IT THAT WAY AND THAT'S FINE LOL

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

YANDERE AOT MEN'S KINKS

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing(s) : reiner x fem!reader, eren x fem!reader, levi x fem!reader, jean x fem!reader, zeke x fem!reader tags + warnings: general yandere and obsessive themes, unhealthy relationships, explicit sexual content, violent themes, dubcon/noncon implications, breeding, size kink, praise, dom/sub/switch dynamics, rough sex, edging, dacryphilia, marking, blood mention, cannibalism mention, muzzling, exhibition, voyeurism, quickies, pussy worship, forced feminization, knife kink, choking, slapping, collar/leash use, cockwarming, wax-play, forced domestication, humiliation note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

REINER

YOU ALREADY KNOW THE BUSINESS WITH HIM reiner's kinks are definitely anything associated with breeding. mating presses, creampies, lactation, etc. he just loves claiming that way, pushing his cum in and leaving himself plugged inside to ensure that pregnancy is in the future. you belong to him and what more to show it than giving you a child. literally whenever he has sex, it's like he goes into a rut and his mind locks in that he must breed you. then when your milk starts coming in, seeing you leak unlocks something in him that makes him absolutely feral. he finds it so attractive and will spend hours sucking on your tits, esp if you're in pain and in need to help get it sorted out. ain't that kind of him? size kink. since reiner's pretty massive (hehe), he would always adores how much smaller you are. if you're shorter than him, it gives him the feeling that he has to protect you and it gets him so hard seeing you struggle to take him all in, cockhead bulging out of your lower stomach. if you're taller than him or roughly the same height, he does anything to make you feel smaller than him, pushing you down into the bed or making you go on your hands and knees to take in his dick in your mouth. reiner wants you to be weaker than him, to be completely dependable on him and him alone. he's not completely a dom though in my eyes tbh, he's more of a switch with dom-leaning tendencies (bc he first gotta set the control he has over you as a yandere). sometimes he wants to be dominated, wants to be the one begging to put his cock inside of you, and brought to tears from how good you're using him. he's vocal as fuck too, whimpering and moaning so loudly whenever you ride him and play with his tits (CAUSE OMFG I WILL CONTINUE TO SPREAD THE IDEA EVEN MORE THAT HIS TITTIES ARE SENSITIVE AND SO SQUISHY AND PLAYABLE BRUH). he'll always have a limit to how much control you have over him during sex so don't get too cocky cause he'll take over in a snap of a finger. it doesn't matter if he was a breathless mess that had been edged for hours and just came all over his stomach, he's gonna pound you until you're the one whimpering in overstim. HUGE PRAISE KINK, he loves giving praise and receiving it. he's complete putty in your hands if you praise him, makes him feel super good about himself when you say that he's fucking you so good and he loves to feel you clench around him when he says that you look so pretty for him or that you're taking him in so well. even out of sex, he whispers sweet little compliments in your ear just to see you get all flustered about it.

his yandere tendencies come out when he catches you with other men (cacoëthes you'll always be famous TO ME), even if you don't intended to be involved with them, and bro FUCKS like he's trying to prove a point. he's pushing deep into you until his tip is pressed flushed into your cervix and biting at your neck, leaving dark marks that'll last for days to come. he's growling into your ear about how no one and i mean no one can compare to his cock and the way he fucks you. he's literally carving the shape of his dick into you so you'll never forget it. if you try and run off with another man, he wouldn't and never will amount to reiner. that's even if you can ever escape him in the first place.

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EREN

this mf is into edging. eren loves to build you up and never let you get there, mostly because it makes you become desperate and so delirious to cum that you'd literally do anything to get there. even he goes CRAZY if he got edged for hours and he cums hard, like the shooting kind of cumming all over you. he's into that shit too, covering every inch of your skin in his warm stickiness. it's like a mark that you can't quite get rid of.

eren's a dacryphiliac, nothing gets him harder than seeing your tears stream down your face. crying because it's so good? stiff as a rock. crying because it's too much? oh my god, he's going to keep fucking you until you're a blabbering mess. he's also into that predator-prey thing, where you're desperately trying to get away from him but your stifled sobs always make it easy to find you and sooner than not, he's pounding you into the nearest surface while licking your tears off your face.

bites, hickeys, bruises, anything of the marking sort, he's into it. eren's known for being a biter, so any chance he gets and for him to be able to cum sometimes, he's sinking his teeth into your flesh. the taste of your blood makes him a little delirious (if this was the actual aot-verse, i think that he's and any other titan user that consumed a lot of human/titan blood is used to the taste (not armin cause he's only eaten bertolt i think) and it's like any other usual meal (they just have a hint of cannibalistic tendencies and you cannot take this idea away from me)). sometimes you'll have to take physical action to make him stop biting down so hard, you elbowed him hard one time when he literally wasn't letting go of your shoulder. the absolute terror that you felt when you looked into his eyes when he finally released you, your blood dripping down his mouth. it was like staring at a starving wolf in the middle of his meal.

because of this, sometimes you muzzle him. eren hates it since he likes biting you, but he's starting to like it a little more every day he gets to fuck you. bro's like a feral dog with it on, the cool metal pressing against your neck, and you could feel his drool drip down from how much he wants to sink his teeth in or because of how much your cunt is making him all hot and delirious. eren's probably the most vocal out of all of them, so you're going to be hearing every whine and groan that's coming out of him.

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JEAN

I FEEL OUT OF ALL OF THEM, JEAN'S THE LEAST FREAKIEST 😭😭

that being said, he's into exhibition/voyeurism LMFAO like mutual masturbation kind of shit or he's in the closest watching you touch yourself while he's beating it. something about the thrill of it all gets him going, especially when he fucks you in places where you're definitely going to get caught if you don't stay quiet. the closet thing was an accident at first, he was in your room to ask you something but you weren't there and he started snooping a little too much, getting absolutely distracted that he almost barely heard you start to unlock your door. he hid in the closet, waiting for you to fall asleep but instead you started playing with yourself before you went to bed and that was the start of it all lmao AND you still don't know he keeps doing it.

quickies are jean's fucking passion, bro can fuck you in a short amount of time to make you both cum multiple times and he's a little too good at hiding the fact that the two of you just had sex from around the corner. slicking his hair back smugly while adjusting his clothes back to normal, watching your legs quiver and shake as both of your fluids drip down your thighs, it takes all his might not to fuck you once more.

pussy worshipping, he's definitely into that. he can spend hours knelt underneath you and eating you out, not caring whether his dick is begging for any sort of needed attention. i feel like out of all five of them rn, he has the number one spot of giving more to his partner than receiving it like he's absolutely locked in to please you (reiner is second bc i said so and it's totally not a biased choice 😈). even if you're crying from overstimulation, he's not gonna stop until he says he's finished eating you out.

domestication kink + forced feminization, even if you're the independent type who has a distaste for wearing skirts and dresses, he imagines there's a world where he could make you completely submissive and a dependent housewife. jean does things subtlety so he might slowly incorporate more feminine items in your routine or say something that may have you second-guess yourself, and without you even realizing, you're slowly becoming the woman he dreams of in his head. delusional king!

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

LEVI

for levi, i think isayama said one time that levi's kinda subby or sumn like that so fuck yeah i'm gonna incorporate that in a bit.

knife kink ofc, his handiwork has always been surrounding these sharp pieces of metals so how could i not add this. it's not the threatening aspect that he's into, he already knows that you know that you're always going to below him. it's the fact that he can carve his name into your fragile skin whenever he wants and you can't do anything about it, and watching the small rivulets of blood seep through makes him absolutely feral even though he doesn't admit it. idk how to really describe it until i actually write it in a fic lol

levi's definitely into choking, especially because it gives him absolute control of when you're allowed to breathe, giving up something so important just for him. he never goes pass the line where you pass out because he wants to watch you cum while you're breathless, gasping for air as you clench around him in shudders. he's seen a lot of people get choked out to death, he's even done it a few times, but he likes seeing it done the most on you. especially because you struggle to beg for him to stop, scratch up his arms like a poor little kitty cat and wriggle around in fear. levi swears nothing looks so much prettier than that.

slapping and he's damn good at it. he's slapped your face a few times to get your attention back, but he loves slapping your ass. he hits hard enough to leave his handprints, keeping you sore for days that you can't lay down or sit down right. levi bends you over his lap if you're being a brat and SMACKS until you're sobbing for him to stop but even so, he keeps on going until he feels like the punishment is enough. for being a good girl and taking his punishment so generously, he'll finger you afterwards, running his lithe fingers in-between your clit and into your dripping hole. you may say you hate it, but your pussy is saying otherwise. if you slap him, you are not walking for a week LMFAO

okay now im gonna go into subby levi hehe sometimes he doesn't want to be the one in control because his job is all about control and demanding others, so he'll let you fuck him (with limitations as well). like he'll lay in your lap and let you jerk him off as he sucks on your tits, letting you decide if you want to edge him or overstimulate him. it's a little strange at first being able to control your captain like this but you get used to it, letting him thigh-fuck you but never letting him enter your sopping pussy. sometimes he gets so irritated by being denied so often that he'll break the deal off and start taking back the reins.

levi's a collar and leash man, something about tugging it to direct your attention and getting tugged gets him going. he likes the way his name glimmers in the name tag, how pathetic you look as he sharply pulls it to make you look at him. he usually will only put it on when he's the sub, letting you pull it towards your pussy so he can eat you out. he doesn't force you to act like a dog, it's just the ownership of you that he likes.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

ZEKE

cockwarming, cockwarming, cockwarming. this man loves to keep you plugged up whenever he's reading or smoking a few cigarettes outside. he usually cockwarms you when he wants another way for relaxing and what more than to sink into your warm and tight pussy. zeke's so fucking nonchalantly mean about it too. if you try moving off him or trying to finally cum, he smacks your thigh hard or pulls your hair back to look at him, taunting you about how you're being naughty and naughty girls don't get to cum. so he'll make you stay on him for another few hours or so, then cumming on your ass or stomach and sometimes never making you cum either as punishment.

ZEKE'S ALSO INTO BREEDING BUT LIKE A TWISTED VERSION OF IT, LET ME EXPLAIN. of course, it's canonically known that he doesn't like the reproduction of eldians and wanted the extinction of them through genetic neutering (which was fucking insane btw how he thought his plan would be able to be possible when it was eren's world to control is so funny to me 💀💀). so basically what i'm thinking is that he is so disgusted with the idea so much that he's into it. like the idea of cumming into you and filling your womb gets him so unreasonably hard and he doesn't really know himself why it does. it always happens when he sees you treating a kid so kindly that they may as well be yours and then he starts fantasizing about a homely, domestic life with you with yours and his kids running amok. he never goes through with it of course but he gets close a couple of times, so very very close.

idk ig he kinda gives wax-play vibes. seeing you blindfolded and pouring hot drips of wax on your skin or nipples, twitching in shock from the suddenness of the vague burn amuses him. sometimes he'll tie you up and leave a candle to drip all over you for a few hours and see how many times you cum over it.

zeke's definitely into humiliating you because why would you ever have any sort of pride when your place is in his bed and being his obedient fuck toy? like he makes you roleplay as his subservient maid, buying the skimpiest outfits ever in existence, taking away your underwear and making you wear a skirt that you have constantly tug down, literally anything that makes you feel shameful of yourself. but he reinforces you into liking it by praising you while he fucks you in those fits, talking about how pretty you look with your pussy out just for him and how his stupid little maid is so good at pleasing him.

#love-taste #tw: yandere #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #yandere shingeki no kyojin #yandere attack on titan #yandere reiner #yandere eren #yandere jean #yandere levi #yandere zeke

[phobia-sweets]

Okay, so how would different villains react to a vigilante reader doing this to them in the middle of a fight

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRbq6LVV/

Also I absolutely adore your fic and writing, please and thank you, and have an amazing day

used the freedom of getting to choose myself to practice writing music meister :3

(also im glad(?) to inform you i got that video on my fyp like two hours after getting this request lmao)

OH AND THANKYOU THAT MEANS A LOT i hope you also have a good day!!!

General! Music Meister & Firefly x reader

Warnings & Notes: None?? i got carried away w firefly, not proofread (reader is a bit dumb at the end of firefly's part lmao)

MUSIC MEISTER

During your time as a vigilante, you had learned to always bring earplugs wherever you went, just in case if you bumped into him.

“You do know your trick doesn’t work on me, right?” You chuckled, adjusting your domino mask. The music meister – or Darius, had taken control of the Gotham city opera house, where the both of you currently were. Luckily for you there were no civilians present when he took control – except for some guards, Who had left – leaving you alone with him.

“One of these days, you will be the one to do my bidding” he started, “It’ll be just a matter of time.”

Now, technically taking care of him without anyone to control should be easy, but you didn’t really want to hurt him. But then again, What were the chances there actually were people there being controlled, but just hiding, waiting for you to attack? You wouldn’t put it past him to plan that, he was quite smart. “Why won’t you just be good for once and give up voluntarily?” You suggested, and was met with him chuckling. “If you won’t, I still have a card up my sleeve.”

“Oh?”

You walked closer to him, To which he didn’t react – planning something? Were you playing into a plan he had in his head? Fuck it, you already started going through with this, may as well go for it. You were maybe a meter away from him when you practically jumped up to him, placing a kiss on his lips. He made a sound of surprise, eyes wide as he looked at you, a sweet red creeping up to his cheeks.

Then you handcuffed him. “Sorry, Darius.”

GARFIELD LYNNS

Adding a cape to your uniform was one of the purely aesthetic choices you made. In your defense, capes were really cool. Unfortunately, They could be very inconvenient when they got stuck. Especially when there was a specific pyromaniac trying to immolate you. Trying to pull your cape from under some barrels that had fallen, you heard him -

“There’s going to be nothing but ash left when I’m done with you!” Firefly yelled, sharply inhaling as he landed a few feet away from you and adjusting his grip on his flamethrower. You turned to quickly look at your utility belt, spotting the butterfly knife on its usual spot. Turning to face Firefly, you sighed,

“We’re not done yet.” You straightened your back, watching as he walked closer. You took the knife, making sure he didn’t see it and starting to cut your cape off.

He laughed. “You will burn with gotham tonight-”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me that quite a few times already.” You interrupted him, and regretted it almost immadietly when you felt the warmth of the flames from the flamethrower come dangerously close as he fired it for just a second.

“Any last words, hero?” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, “before I melt your face off?”

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Heh heh, Too bad.” He laughed. You needed time. You knew that. If you didn’t find a way to either keep him talking or catch him off guard, you’d be as good as dead.

“Wouldn’t you prefer a nice slow burn over an explosion?” You questioned, Motioning to the barrels of… What ever was in them. You didn’t know, but it probably wouldn’t mix well with fire.

He stopped. Probably considering whether to blow you up or burn you. You cut the last bit of fabric off of your cape, free to move. Lunging towards Firefly, you pushed away his flamethrower, one risk taken care of. Now you just had to restrain him. You needed to catch him offguard. So you almost instinctively tried to place a kiss on his lips, but was met with the cold surface of his helmet. But hey, it worked. He stumbled backwards and you seized the opportunity to tackle him to the ground and tie his hands together.

“I could’ve taken my helmet off for that, hot stu-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

#music meister x reader #darius chapel x reader #firefly x reader #garfield lynns x reader

[kradogsrats]

i love your writing and i was wondering, do you have an idea where viren’s character arc might be going post s5 if he survived n realized aaravos was lying like? especially after the revelation that he doesn’t have to be a dark mage anymore, where claudia is giving up everything in his stead… i’m all here for the viravos like i need but idk im trying to think of a feasible way they would interact in s6/how viren would get drawn in again, and failing lmao

Aw, thank you! I do hope that Viren stays hanging out with Claudia and Aaravos just because I think him interacting too early/much with the main trio would be kind of tedious. Actually that's a lie, there are ways it could be done, they just seem kind of unlikely at this point.

To be realistic, I'm not sure there's a good way to maintain Viren's involvement with Aaravos that does not involve Viren Has A Bad Time. Like, there are plenty of ways that Aaravos can keep him essentially wrapped around his fingers—keep Claudia all-in on working with him, threaten Claudia directly, threaten Claudia indirectly, and of course he technically could probably just possess either of them any time he feels like it (unless that's a thing that requires line-of-sight, it's hard to say). Is there a way to have Viren to genuinely buy into it without regressing his character? I'm not so sure.

The fic I'm very grudgingly working on basically starts with Aaravos like "omg did you seriously think you could have a single empowering hallucination and I'd somehow let you go? that's adorable" and Viren being like "ah fuck I forgot he's also hot." Which... it is what it is, lmao.

I do think there's another question at hand, which is whether Aaravos will still have interest in Viren, or even Claudia, going into s6. He might ditch them entirely now that his prison has been found and start to work the Callum angle toward freedom. It would be smarter for him to hang on to both ends in case one falls through, particularly since now that Claudia has failed him once he has an incredible amount of leverage over her, versus Callum being hostile toward him. But it's still possible that Claudia, Viren, and Terry will go off on some thread less directly related to Aaravos.

#au where no one else is willing to go after the novablade so callum and viren take the most awkward roadtrip possible #anyway looking forward to the inevitable claudia 'is everyone who has left me wrong or is it somehow possible that i am wrong' crisis #like edge of my seat waiting for her to finally realize her own power and that she doesn't need viren or his approval #but she's definitely going to do it at the WORST possible moment lmao #viravos

[bulbabutt]

I'll be honest the worst part of the love triangle in 12 to me (or at least the worst part of the fan reaction to the love triangle in 12) is the people who act like it's somehow Rob Paulsen and/or Mae Whitman and/or Josh Peck's fault that it's like that. I mean, putting aside the fact that blaming the VAs instead of the writers is not cool (and also the fact that Paulsen and Whitman are ridonkers talented as VAs-Paulsen has too many to name and Whitman just needs the two-hit combo of Katara into Amity Blight, Peck I have less to say as because I only really know him from Drake and Josh and 12 itself but he seems alright), they're not the only parts of their characters! Donnie and Casey get plenty of stuff to do outside of that, and while April definitely gets the short end of the stick there I can at least think of a few solid bits here and there. 12 has problems but it's really annoying when Rise ultrafans act like 12 is some blight on the franchise (we have Next Mutation for that thanks). (AND I LIKE RISE I STRESS)

ok first of all people do WHAT lmao thats actually insane, it doesnt even matter if the actors are talented or not, its very bad behaviour to be blaming actors for anything lmao

lemme also say its not even always the writers faults either, cuz something about 12s writing issues i didnt give credit to was nickelodeon or playmates for how they clearly are behind the scenes saying "do this, do that". cuz all tmnt shows are shows made to sell toys and a lot of the time things that happen is also cuz some studio exec is coming in being like "hey! we need more _ cuz kids like _!"

but like if i can be absolutely honest when i say this and this is not even directed at you so like no offence to you or anyone who's got something to say about 12 or rise or whatever this is just like reminding me of the weird inter-iteration behaviour ive seen recently (like i browse tmnt crossover stuff cuz... obvs i wanna see crossover stuff, but lately i keep seeing nastiness)

but i have seen 12 ultra fans, i have seen rise ultra fans, i have recently seen just how weird and over the top toxic certain people who prefer either can be when discussing their non-favorite show and i just. can i just say. all of you guys. just... just stop interacting w the other people's media? if you dont like a rise fic, dont read it, if you dont like a 12 fic dont read it. if you dont like the characterization? the story? you think somethings ooc? like. its okay. its not for you, just let it be. people arent bad for writing it that way, its theirs. make your own art, interact w peoples art you do like!

idk maybe im just too old for this but ive seen people on either side of that whole...............situation. put their entire faces into videos like ripping the shit out of people and naming and linking the art theyre talking about and it seems really mean.

anyway all this to say please dont talk to me about whatever drama has happened between iterations (its always those two) like... the issue is very much just gonna be a generational divide. thats all it is. 12 came out a time when the jokes were a bit meaner, and rise came out in a post steven universe era. both of these shows are good they both are just different genres. people from either side of it have different tastes because of the specific thing they like in tmnt. if rise fans think the 12 turtles come off toxic and you dont thats their business, dont interact w them. if 12 fans dont like how different rise is leave them to it.

specifically please leave me out of it, and just dont be mean to each other. putting someone on blast for their art or their perspective just makes you look like the asshole.

also i unironically enjoyed the next mutation im sorry, im cringe but you can take bonesteel and hot vampire lady and mikeys pirate radio and BEST SPLINTER show from my cold dead hands AHJKSDH

#sorry just throwing word soup out there again #this is probably a bad idea im just very tired #and its SOOOO fucking even #its so even on both sides its insane #just pleeeeeeeeease leave people alone #thoughts