#The lad is stressed out about something wonder what it is
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hellfire baby :: e.m.
summary: when starting a new campaign, the hellfire club didn’t except to see a toddler sitting in their club leader’s throne
content warning: parenting & pregnancy, talks about teen parenting, swearing, basically really fluffy, child’s features mostly based off of eddie
word count: 1013
when all of the hellfire boy’s entered through the theater room’s doors, they felt a huge rush of excitement. eddie had been hyping up his new campaign for about a month and told everyone that he was going to do something real special for their first meeting.
what they did not expect was a small little girl, maybe around 1 or 2 years old, sitting in their dungeon master’s place. she had a pink dragon onesie on and her big brown eyes stared back at the group.
“why good evening lovely gentlemen.” eddie popped out from behind his throne, holding a small sandwich bag filled with ‘star wars’ cookies. he handed it to the child with barely any acknowledgement and she gladly grabbed it with eager hands. “are you lads ready to start this wonderful campaign?”
each boy had their own looks of confusion on their faces. they looked at eddie and then the child, then back again.
“eddie why the hell is there a baby here?” dustin was the one who spoke up.
eddie’s face sported a wide grin. “well guys i would like to introduce you to the surprise i mentioned.” he scooped up the little girl and presented her to the d&d club memebers. “everyone this is my daughter mei. say hi mei mei.”
“hi mei mei.” the little voice spoke a she waved a tiny hand to the boys. she tugged her onesie hood down, reveling long, brown hair, just like her dad’s.
“daughter? eddie we didn’t even know you could speak to girls?” mike chimed in.
“well wheeler, if it matters to you, i don’t speak to girls because i already have my fiance.” he raised his eyebrows at the last part.
you see, eddie munson didn’t become a super-super senior because he was dumb. he became a super-super senior because he accidentally got his high school girlfriend pregnant. they had been together since they were 16. eddie and y/n were going great until the summer before their senior year. y/n’s pregnancy took a large toll to both of their academics, so eddie decided he would try and lighten his girlfriend’s stress load. on april 29th, 1984, their daughter was born.
he thought y/n’s future was too bright for her to be held back, so after she gave birth he let her continue as an almost normal high school student. eddie didn’t get to graduate that year. but he did get to hold his baby as he watched the love of his life walk the stage.
he didn’t graduate his second senior year either. he was too caught up in healthy parenting and making sure he was there to watch his daughter’s firsts. he watched her first steps, her first time eating solid foods, and even heard her first word. ‘dragon’.
so here he was, his third senior year, finally ready to walk that stage.
as eddie finished up the story he heard a sniff. all heads turned toward the direction of lucas.
“dude that story was so beautiful. i didn’t even know that.”
“yeah most people don’t except a few people who were in school during that time like harrington. but y/n kind of chose to drop off the map so it isn’t talked about much.” eddie sat down in his chair and placed his daughter on his lap. “now that introductions are out of the way, shall we get started?”
-
eddie’s new campaign was centered around exploring an abandoned gem mine to figure out what was terrorizing the near by townsfolk.
“so little dwarf, you enter the cave with your mates behind you. as you guide them with your light, the air becomes increasingly warm. as you approach the growing heat, you see a shimmer of pink scales.”
“munson you did not...” dustin starts as his hands grip the table.
“you raise your torch higher and you see her in all her glory...” eddie lifts mei off of his lap and places her in the middle of the table. “mei the fire breathing dragon.”
all the boys start to exclaim in frustration. what kind of sick father makes his own kid the first boss of his d&d campaign? eddie munson that’s who. after explaining they all need a time out to discuss, they all huddled in the corner.
“dude what are we going to do? we can’t slay the dragon. i mean look at her, she’s adorable!” dustin whispered.
“i mean honestly if you think about it, it’s just a game.” mike said. typical.
“yes but the moral principal of it is, eddie knows that we would have to be sick son’s of bitches to kill a kid. especially his daughter.” dustin explained frustrated.
him and mike felt a little wedge between their legs. they all looked down to see mei still holding her bag of cookies.
“tooktie?” she raised it up to the air, offering the boys a share of her snack.
each boy took only one, while politely thanking her for sharing. she unwedged herself from the huddle and waddled towards her dad.
“juice peas?” she said to him, pointing to a sippy cup sitting on the table. he handed her the cup and looked at the clock on the wall.
“unfortunately boys, time is up for today’s meeting.” eddie tsked.
just as he said that, y/n opened the door to the club room and walked in scanning around. each person all had their eyes on her.
“mommy!” mei squealed, running towards the young woman. she jumped into her arms, y/n picking her up and spinning her around.
eddie grabbed a small child lunch box and walked towards the two girls. “as you see i can't stay any later than i’m supposed to tonight guys. but this will give you some more time to think about your next move.”
he trailed behind the two girls, waving everyone goodbye.
as the door closed, each hellfire member could hear a faint, “eddie why is our daughter talking about slaying a dragon?”
followed by “edward munson why did our daughter just say son of a bitch?”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things one shot#stranger things 4#eddie munson my beloved#parenting fic#the baby fever has been real yall#hellfire baby sushihousebread
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Hello! I really enjoy your LaDS writings!
I was wondering if you can do a headcanon with Caleb or Rafayel with a workaholic and burnt out reader?
Thank you so much!
A/N: Dear Anon-san,
Thank you so much for requesting <3 For this one, I went with Caleb because I already made something similar to the prompt for Rafayel, where he soothes a stressed out reader (though the reason why she's being like that isn't because of work). You can read it here.
I really do enjoy writing for Caleb since we haven't seen many of his story yet in the game. I hope you are content with this story too.
On a side note, I've recently got a few requests about a stressful or burnt out reader. I just wanna make sure my readers are doing alright out there <3 Sending you mental support right here through the fics I write <3
A Surprise Visit
Returning home at midnight after a long day of work, you unexpectedly find a guest being in your apartment.
‧₊˚❀༉ Caleb x F!Reader
‧₊˚❀༉ Soft fluff, domestic fluff
‧₊˚❀༉ Masterlist
‧₊˚❀༉ Request a fic
You came home when the clock struck twelve. The night was quiet, only the sound of your tired footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. After what seemed like an endless journey, you finally reached your apartment.
You unlocked the door. A soft glow from within illuminated the corridor. Since you left early in the morning, you did not recall leaving the light on. You let out a long sigh and felt guilty for being forgetful.
Yet, in the house there were not only lights, but also the delicious smell of food. How strange! How peculiar! You felt your weariness leave your mind as it was replaced by vigilance. Was there another person in the house?
You tiptoed to the kitchen, where the aroma of food made your stomach rumble. Then, you saw a very familiar figure. Fortunately, you were able to contain your joy and instead called his name quietly:
“Caleb?!”
He turned around, nodded and smiled at you. “You're back just now? Wash your face first and we'll have dinner."
You rubbed your eyes. Was it because you're so tired that you're daydreaming?
“Caleb? Is that really you?”
A soup was cooking on the kitchen counter as Caleb departed. Reaching over, he put his hand on top of your head.
“Are you expecting another man then?”
You immediately shook your head. Your hands reached up to wrap around Caleb's wrist and untangle it from your hair before he patted your head again like a child.
“No way! I'm just surprised to see you here, at this hour... Aren't you busy with your mission at Skyhaven?”
"Everything went smoothly. So now I'll take a few days off."
“Why didn't you tell me you're coming? I thought the apartment was being robbed..."
Caleb reached out and pinched your cheek. It was painful. He said:
“What kind of thief would help you clean up this messy apartment and even cook for you because they knew you got off work this late?”
You rubbed the cheek that had just been pinched and frowned. “You don't need to pinch it so hard.”
Caleb laughed. He told you to quickly go inside to wash up and get changed while he finished cooking the soup. You obediently followed. How joyful it is to get home after a hectic day and see the one you love. All of a sudden, you forgot how tired you were after the long day.
The two of you had a simple meal. Caleb said that since it was late, you shouldn't eat too much. He observed you as you were enjoying your food. He had taken care of the apartment, made a trip to the grocery store and prepared your meal all day. What surprised and delighted you the most, though, was the fact that he was here. You had given Caleb a spare key a long time ago, but to be honest, you never thought he would pay a surprise visit. Due to work, you both had to live in two cities far apart.
After dinner, you threw yourself on the sofa and grabbed your laptop. Caleb got you a cup of warm water, then used his Evol to take the device out of your hands.
“I still have a report to finish…”
You wanted to get your laptop back, but Caleb turned it off and put it aside. "That's something you can't do right now." He stated. “Do you know what time it is? Shouldn't you be in bed? There are dark circles around your eyes.”
He used a finger to poke the thin skin below your eyes. It must be dark by now and somewhat made you look like a panda. You grimaced:
“Don't mess around, Caleb. I have a ton of work to get done.”
“I'm not messing with you either.” Caleb had a solemn expression. “You've been working hard for many days. Now you need to rest. I'm here to make sure of that.”
You let out a sigh. You were drawn into Caleb's embrace. Maybe he was right— you need to rest. Yet, the notion of the incomplete task made you feel quite uncomfortable.
You were a workaholic, and Caleb knew it. He therefore needed to be even more committed to getting you to give up the laptop.
“You're always working. It's hard to find some spare time with you." Caleb whispered as he rested his head on your hair.
You admitted you were a bit neglectful of Caleb, but that's because your job required extra work and concentration.
“I had to text Tara to find out you got off work at midnight.” Cale went on. “If you read the message, you'd know I've been here since noon.”
You raised up. At that time, you hurriedly reached for the phone on the table. As you opened it, you saw a series of messages and missed calls from Caleb.
“Oh… I'm really sorry…” You mumbled. “I really don't know where I left my phone…”
Caleb rubbed your shoulder, then pulled you back to the original position, leaning on his lap. "No problem. It's the price I pay for dating a girl who loves her job more than me."
You giggled as you pressed your face against his neck and gave him a breath tickle.
“I already apologized.”
He put his arms around your waist and gave you a gentle squeeze. Only when you were in his arms, listening to his heart beat, feeling his warmth and subtle scent, and only then could you stop acting tough. You could burst into tears. You could let the weight and pressure of work fall on your shoulders. For you knew, he would fight against the world with you.
Only then did you face your physical and mental fatigue and acknowledge that you were just too exhausted to handle everything at once.
“If you're truly sorry,” Caleb's monotone voice rang out as you gradually drifted off to sleep in his arms. “Then you must let me have you this whole weekend, okay?”
Pictures from Pinterest.
Edited by me.
#love and deepspace caleb#love and deepspace#caleb#caleb x you#caleb x mc#caleb x reader#no y/n#fanfic#fanfiction#love and deepspace fanfic#heart hunters series#moments with caleb#mahiru#xia yizhou#caleb love and deepspace#lad x reader#lads x reader#character x reader#lads#lad#lnd#l&d#lad requests#lads caleb#banners and dividers by me
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Hello, hope you're having a good day/night
I was wondering if I could request this idea with male reader who used to be in a relationship with Makarov, like what would the 141 team be like if they found out about reader past with him and not good one like abusive but they managed to get away and change their identity kinda thing? And that's how they managed to join the 141.
How they find out is all up to you
I love all your ideas oml
Mentions of reader being abused, Soap and reader arguing, hint of trauma mention, comfort, angst
Arguing with your teammates was very rare, at least for you, but it was always scary
It brought back memories
The 141 knew you had been in a relationship before coming here but that’s it
They never knew who or why you two broke up
You had actually never argued with them until now
“Christ, lad, you can’t just run out like that, you coulda gotten killed!” Soap scolded you
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to” you said in a meek voice, head down, hands clasped together
“Look at me when I’m talking to you! Lad you nearly got blown up! You can’t be so stupid we could’ve lost ya for fucks sake!” You knew Soap was just stressed, he cared for all of you deeply and the thought of losing any of you made his heart ache but it’s words hurt more
You couldn’t help it let tears well in your eyes, body shaking, head throbbing
You looked up at him after wiping your tears discreetly
The rest of the team looked on quietly, all stressed and awkward
“Why are you so quiet? Answer me!” Soap stepped forward to you to try and out a hand on your shoulder
He had no intention to hurt and you knew that but your instinct made you back up and throw your hands up to defend yourself, covering your face and chest
Everyone seemed to notice this
They all paused as your breathing became rapid and your heart jump to your throat
Then came the cliché line
“Did that bastard hurt you?” Referring to your anonymous ex
You didn’t see who asked you but from the Manchester accent it was obviously Ghost
Your breath was still rapid and your body ready to either run or fight
You eventually shrugged, not wanting to say yes, fearing it be too much for you, but not wanting to say no, as you wanted to tell someone, to reach out for help
“[name]… what happened?” Price asked you cautiously
You couldn’t speak, your whole body tense
“Lad, I would never hurt you, not like that bastard” Soap whispered
You nodded
There was silence before Gaz spoke up “what was his name?”
You felt your heart drop from your throat to your stomach
Before taking a deep breath you spoke up
“Makarov…”
You knew they would hate you for this
“The Makarov?” Ghost asked
You nodded “but he forced me to I had no choice he said he would hurt me if I didn’t” you desperately tried to explain
Before you knew it Soap hugged you
“It’s ok lad, we know you would never do something like that, I’m so sorry you went through that, you didn’t deserve that” he comforted you
You stammered before breaking down
“I had to run away, change my name, hair, everything” you sobbed into his shoulder “I was so scared” he let you soak his shirt in tears and snot, at this point all that mattered was your safety
“Oh [name]” Soap held you tightly
You pulled away and wiped your face, sniffling
They all engulfed you in a group hug, their holds suffocating you
“He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re safe, we’re sorry we got angry, we where just worried about you” Price comforted you
For the rest of the day they babied you, even if you told them you where fine they did everything for you, tending to even the smallest of your wounds, washing your clothes etc
They just loved you so much and really thought (knew) you deserved the world
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Hey sexy witch!
So I just had my first real sexual experience... And it didn't go exactly how I would've liked. So I'm a cis man who's 23 and never really kissed anyone, and was with someone I did really like and nothing really happened below stairs for me. I am on antiDs and appreciate the stress off expectations may have damaged performance (as may alcohol have as well), and I also know that penetrative sex isn't the be all and end all of relationships - but basically I was wondering if you had any resources or advice to help relax / assist in turgidity in this situation?
Apologies if this isn't the best worded but well I'm not in the most coherent state of mind right now. Yo know how it is.
Yours truly...
A lad in need of advice.
hi lad,
I'm sorry you had to learn the hard way that things rarely go perfectly when it comes to sex. I hope you still had fun!
it sounds like you really encountered a perfect storm of things than can cause erectile dysfunction: antidepressants, alcohol, and stress? in this economy?
the first thing to do is a little scientific research. do you have any difficulty getting and staying hard when it's just you? if everything goes smoothly when you masturbate, we probably don't need to worry too much about addressing the role antidepressants may have played here. if you have noticed any changes in your erections since going on antidepressants, it's worth bringing that up with your doctor and talking about potentially switching prescriptions to something that may come without the unwanted side effect. probably not the most fun conversation you'll ever have, but important! and trust me, any doctor writing prescriptions for antidepressants has had the erectile dysfunction conversation before.
the alcohol thing is easy: let's just try to avoid drinking in future situations where it looks like intimacy might be an option, yeah? or at least partake in moderation.
now, as for that pressure to perform: listen to me. listen. sex can be literally anything. tons of people have great sex without using a penis every day, for all kinds of reasons (no penis, don't like their penis, penis isn't cooperating, just not that into penetration, etc). and YOU can be one of them! I believe in you.
I know for cis men more than anyone the narrative around sex is that the penis is a 100% vital component 100% of the time, but you know better than that. you follow my blog, probably, which means that you know human bodies are a big sweaty mess of holes and erogenous zones and things that are good for touching other things, and all of that can be done in literally any combination you want as long as it feels good. your hands and your mouth are as important as your dick, and that's just the beginning. there are definitely people out there who will be equally of not more excited by other parts of your body.
which isn't to say that you can't or shouldn't use your dick, or that you're wrong for being disappointed about this. it's a bummer when things don't go the way you hoped! but. BUT. you know what takes a LOT of pressure off of Plan A? if you have a perfectly good Plan B lined up and ready to go. maybe even a Plan C. lots of people have a hard time showing up exactly the way they want during sex for a lot of reasons, and it can be devastating if you feel like you're blowing your only chance. knowing that you have other plans that will be just as good, just different, can be a huge relief.
you know what else helps? just telling your partner up front that Plan B might be necessary. (don't phrase it like that if you're having sex with someone who could get pregnant, they won't like that.) (Plan B is emergency contraceptive, for anyone confused by that last parenthetical.) I know this probably sounds even more daunting than talking to your doctor about your boners, but just get it out in the open. "hey, just so you know, I've had issues getting it up in the past. it doesn't mean I don't like you or that I don't want to have sex with you, I do! what do you want to do if that's off the table?"
the answer could be "copious amounts of oral" or it could be "let's snuggle and watch a nature documentaries." they could also be a dick about it, and if someone is a dick about your dick, it's time to leave. either way, you've leaned something useful about this person and can act on that information accordingly!
listen: the odds that this will happen every time you want to be having an erection are very slim, but (cruelly, ironically, etc) if you get too in your head about this and let it trip you up the next time you're in a sexy little situation, it's much more likely that you'll psyche yourself out too much to get hard. the best way to get less stressed about an erection really may be to just not care if you have one. let the unshakeable sexual confidence of someone with a foolproof backup plan fill you.
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No Better Way to End a Day
Cillian Murphy x female reader.
Warnings: umm, work stress? a slight hint of angst, and some suggestive context-also, English is my second language.
You are going through a tough day(week) especially at work, and so your nerves are...kinda really bad, so you snap at your boyfriend, who tries to make things right.
Just a little something to get us all through the day, Ig
"Coffee at this hour babe? How will you fall asleep at night"? Cillian asked, coming down from your room.
You sighed heavily as another thunder almost shook the whole house. Taking a sip from your coffee, you counted in your head all the things you had to do until night. Finish work. Clean the windows. Iron Cillian's clothes and yours, fucking find a way to hold your job-but your boss had suddenly gone nuts, nothing was good enough, everyone was irreplaceable. Your coffee was cold, you realized, but you gulped it down anyway. Heating it felt like too much work for your already worked up nerves.
"I won't, that's the fucking point"!
"Okay…I'll go out, have a beer with the lads".
"'Kay", was all you answered.
Cillian stayed there staring at you for a moment, keys jingling at his hands. He opened his mouth to say something before an angry glare of yours prompted him out of the door.
And just like that, he was gone. And you were stuck home. With all the chores. And all the work.
With a deep sight you finally found the strength to get off the couch, and sit in front of your computer. The first notification you found was a text from a colleague of yours, which informed you of a new interview of all employees in the company.
Fuck.
Fuck.
But you had done nothing wrong -to the contrary, you were exceptional at your job. Until your supervisor didn't like your face or something.
I look like shit and I feel even worse.
I look like hell 'cause I'm going there first, you sang in your mind.
In a catatonic state, just as the rain had subsided into silent drops, you finished all your programmed work. It was nearly 11 at night when you emerged out of your "office".
Cillian came home at the same hour too, scaring the life out of you as you headed to the laundry room.
"Fucking hell"! you cursed breathily.
"Sorry", he answered with a smile. "I'll go get changed and I'll come for dinner", he added and leaned to kiss you on the cheek.
Dinner? What fucking dinner? You'd been working all day, he was out partying and fooling around, but that didn't matter, you were supposed to have cooked dinner on top of that. As if you hadn't told him not to eat all the soup at lunch.
You're being irrational, you thought to yourself as you stormed to the only place you'd have some privacy: the bathroom.
Banging the door closed behind you, you slid slowly to the floor against the wall, pressing your head on your knees.
It wasn't his fault, any of it, you complained to your stupid self. He had a wonderful afternoon well earned. Before your worked up nerves got the best of you, you heard a soft knock on the door.
"Baby? What's wrong? Y/ N? Did I do something"? Cillian asked softly, making you scrunch your face in regret. With heavy steps you got up, opening the door and falling in his arms.
"I'm sorry", you wailed.
Cillian rested his chin on your hair, brushing his fingertips against your shoulder.
"Let's go to bed huh? And we'll talk about it, and cuddle".
"I'll cook something quick first", you sighed, accepting your faith.
"I ordered Mexican," Cillian smiled and ushered you to your bedroom. He threw his clothes on a chair quickly before pulling you to the top of the bed, arranging the pillows and throwing a blanket over your bodies.
He kissed you on the temple softly.
"If you wanted me to stay tonight, you could've said so, you know I would've without a second thought", he murmured.
Cillian looked at you with that hurt look in his eyes, complaints and love lying within them. He always gave you that puppy -eye look when he wanted to convince you of something.
"Nothing important, I was just childish", you answered. You'd been together for the last 3 years, but still, you hated the idea of him knowing you had such an attitude all day long because of fucking work stress.
"Is it your boss again"? he nevertheless guessed.
"We'll be interviewed tomorrow, all of us. He tries to figure out who's the easiest to sack".
"Don't worry you silly. You're the best there, everyone praises your skills and devotion".
"I'm just anxious, I know it's stupid, but still. And tired. I was working all day long", you said, pressing your head firmly against his shoulder.
"I know Y/LN", he said sweetly. "It's just a bad day though, it will pass".
He reached on the bedside table, pulling your favourite chocolate out of it.
"Especially with some help", he smirked and you immediately bit off a chunk of it.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you like that".
"You scared the shit out of me", Cillian chuckled. "I spent half my time with the lads trying to figure out what me and Dave had done wrong with our girls".
You smiled at his last words, you loved the pet name. "My girl", he'd always call you while he finished, and you'd usually reach another high at this point. You shivered at the thought of it, and Cillian, somehow reading your mind again, placed a burning kiss on your neck. He nipped on your skin, sucking a large purple mark. He lowered his head to your collarbone, bringing his hand to caress your breasts.
As always, if you enjoy please please reblog and/ or comment!!
"Don't worry", he smirked. "I won't do anything tiring", he whispered in his dark voice as he moved to settle between your legs.
"Cillian!", you squealed. "What about the food"?
"Oh,I'll eat that too".
"No, I mean what if it arrives during-
"Let me take care of that sweetie. You just relax".
-----
You were just catching up your breath when the food arrived, Cillian carrying it like a trophy to bed along with all necessities so this little gesture didn't end up a complete disaster. You practically buried your face in your plate. He had ordered just right: chicken wings, country style potatoes with bacon and cheese sauce and tacos with yogurt dressing.
"I'm sorry I was like that", you said again, stuffing your mouth with chicken.
"Hey", Cillian scolded you. "Stop thinking about it, will ya? I too am a fucking prick when I'm under pressure".
You gave him a half smile, knowing deeply in your bones that this wasn't true. But it wasn't your regular behaviour either -hence his troubles thoughts- so you decided you could forgive yourself.
Cillian chuckled as you tried to fit all the remaining potatoes in your mouth, and got quickly downstairs to wash the dishes and clean everything. He returned to find you sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your thumbs.
"'D you wash your teeth an' all"?
"Yeah. I still have too much tension though, for some reason", you added bitterly. Your head was heavy with exhaustion but, of course, why would you have it so easy as to get some damn sleep?
Cillian cupped your cheeks tenderly, peppering your face with kisses before he carried you in his arms to the bathroom. He put up your hair in an -acceptable?- attempt of a ponytail before stopping you off your little clothing.
"After you ma' am", he motioned, and followed you into the shower. The warm water felt better than a heavy, heated blanket.
Cillian massaged your shoulders lightly, pressing kisses all over you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. No better way to end a day, you thought, until you felt his erection pressing against your ass.
"Something got you excited Mr. Murphy"? you asked playfully, yet in a manner that you hoped discouraged his plans. A little while longer and you might as well melt under his touch.
"Perhaps it's time I taught you about the benefits of vanilla sex Y/ N", he whispered against your neck, turning off the shower.
@joy-dwaekki there you go darling, hope you like it and it helps💙
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy fluff#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x fem!reader
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Okay kinda tired cause of the day so might nap but, wanted to try and get an idea out.
SO, I kind of have the headcanon that the swaps (sans and papyrus) have some idea of the rests as both aren't a complete swap of each other, but more of a mix? So Papyrus gets more of an idea of resets, but Sans.. oh poor Sans only has deja vu constantly, maybe strong emotional flashes as well from triggers? Like, Swap sans knows that it's all been done before, but can never recall more than impressions like going fishing bare-handed.
So how does this tie into DustSwap Sans? Well, dude is kind of already losing his sense of reality when he snaps. Imagine feeling like all your interactions happened before multiple times, but having no idea of why. Your brother is constantly dogey/cagey of any concerns, and you feel like you already talked to your close friends about this feeling- but they dont remember. And it stacks up. It's not exactly a clean mental slate each reset, the deja vu gets worse and worse, and Swap Sans is losing his sense of self on if he already did something or if someone was already dead. He constantly ends up second guessing himself, or starts missing things he would normally do cause he thought he'd done it before.
He goes from this peppy, boisterous skeleton to a paranoid, jumpy lad who can barely tell what's actually going on anymore. And that can tie into your whole 'he SNAPPED' idea!!! Cause at some point, it was just too much, and him murdering everyone was the only actual thing that felt different.
also apologies if this doesn't work or if this is similar to something else-
That is actually wonderful, your thoughts are amazing, and thank you so much.
Wait no that's such interesting concepts??? Like genuinely super interesting??
Oof. I can imagine the inner turmoil of "i've felt this before why are the days merging i feel like i've done this what is happening." thing
Like. If you think about it- what if Swap doesn't always go through genocide routes? What if he doesn't always get that whole unnerving "oh fuck I feel like everyone's about to die" feeling?
What if he just snaps?
Because he feels like he knows what's going to happen. Every interaction with the kid is the same. And I feel like Swap is the type to get annoyed about the whole "i've reached the surface, woah, cool- and now we're back down underground again."
Deja Vu can do some pretty crazy things to people, I think. I feel like it could and would cause genuine psychological issues and incredible stress after constantly experiencing it
Hm. I wonder if Clutter (Dust!Swap) would have some sort of disassociative disorder? Maybe even DID. A way to get away from everything after killing everyone and a way to justify that guilt
Almost like how OG has his Papyrus- but Clutter has another person with him in his mind that whispers reassurances.
Your ideas are wonderful- thank you so much!
Also I hope you have a nice nap :]
#undertale fandom#Dustverse#GOOD THOUGHTS#Actual insane level of braincells /pos#Have good nap!!#But just genuinely thank you so much
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Terrarium Lights
Part 1 of 3 for @inklings-challenge
An older lady befriends and adopts a ghost she found in her garden
Next part >>here
Michael Goffrey bid his wife farewell as he left for his next shipping job, and Gail Goffrey was once again faced with the fact that her house was cavernously empty.
She had expected the house to feel empty after her children grew up and moved on with their lives; that was the sort of thing one always heard about from the mothers and wives left behind. However, everyone seemed to stress the loneliness—not the rather more intense boredom.
Gail had always preferred quiet and alone time, so she did not take issue with the solitude. However, though she still had to cook and mend and clean and tidy and all the other tasks, it was one thing to do so for six people and quite another, shorter thing to do so for two. It was even less of a thing to do so for one, since Michael had been promoted to first mate and now had to accompany the airships personally, no longer simply loading and unloading at the cloudends as he once did.
Empty and meaningless. That’s what it felt like. With her family, she had people to help and care for. With just herself, she felt as though she were wasting time walking in circles for no other purpose than to exist.
She made it to the second day without any significant issue.
She was out tending to the herb garden when it happened—a bug wandered in front of her. That shouldn’t have been a problem. Bugs were some of her favorite creatures. But after the first smile, it hit her that she hadn't seen a new kind of one in months—this one already had three sketches in her notebook.
She’d run out of garden bugs to document.
Bugs, of all things. Bugs were everywhere, bugs had never-ending variations, bugs were constant. And she’d run out of them.
Stabbing the trowel into the earth perilously close to the offending bug, she sat back on her heels and looked up at the sky.
"Well, Lord, I reckon you put me on your good Earth for a reason. And I don't think it was just to sketch bugs." She smoothed her apron out, flicking bits of dirt off of it. "I also doubt I'm done with what I'm supposed to do down here, otherwise I wouldn't be here. But if you don't mind me saying, I'm awfully bored of where I am, though I do love my house and my husband and my town quite fierce. But I have all the time in the world, and I'd like to do good with it, if I could. So if you could show me what to do where I can—give me eyes to see as who I can do good towards—then I would appreciate it mightily."
Gail had prayed similar prayers before, with varying regularity. She knew the good Lord had heard her, as he always did. And if he answered with more solitude and time and boredom, then she supposed that was where she was meant to be for the moment. But she dearly hoped there might be something new this time.
So, really, she shouldn't have been surprised to see someone under the loquat tree. But then again, it had been raining since before dawn, so no one in their right mind would have been outdoors. She should know, since she herself had been out gathering moss for terrariums and hadn't heard a breath from anyone all day, even near the city.
Her first impression was that the lad was quite young. Younger than her youngest, in fact, who had not too long ago started her career as a professor at the nearby university. Looked perhaps like he could be one of her students. Very slight of build, as though he needed to eat more, and small looking as he sat hunched in the rain and letting the wet drip down his messy hair, full of loose ends that had gotten free from his ponytail.
Gail stood at the edge of her garden for a moment, resting her pail of moss against the stone border as she observed him.
He didn't move, just sat there with his face turned towards the soil, and didn't seem to see her. Part of his shoulder seemed stained, perhaps with mud. With the house not a few feet to the left, she wondered if he'd tried to knock and not gotten an answer, what with her out and about.
Well, unexpected or not, there was really only one thing to do.
Gripping her pail handle resolutely, Gail marched her way through the garden paths and stood in front of him. He shifted at the sound of her approach, turning his face up towards her—his eyes were pale, as if someone had sketched them on and not bothered with paint. What's more, up closer, the brownish stain on his shoulder looked rather like dried blood.
He tilted his head, as if trying to tell where the sound had come from.
"Well then," she said after a long moment of trying to figure out what to say, "who might you be?"
"Oh." He looked more directly at her, and somehow the eyes looked a bit more colored in, like they remembered they could be brown. "Dreadfully sorry, ma'am. I seem to have gotten lost in the rain. I hope you don't mind me taking a few moments here under your tree?"
He hadn't answered the question, but he seemed more surprised than shifty. "Not at all. Unpleasant weather to be lost in, for sure. If you'd like, you can wait it out under a roof."
"Oh," he said again, and looked to his left; this time it seemed like he understood what he was seeing. "I suppose that would be nicer."
"Well, you're welcome to my roof, if you’d like," she said. She wondered how long he would take her up on that.
He awkwardly stumbled to his feet before she could offer her hand. "That's very kind of you, ma'am."
"Would you like anything to eat?" She went ahead and led the way to the kitchen door.
He hummed thoughtfully. "Thank you ma’am, but I don't think I'm hungry."
She didn't think he would be, but, well, it wasn't like she had experience with this. Which concerned her—she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. At least he didn't seem to be wicked. She supposed he must need a helping hand and, while she needed to figure out what that help was, he was still just a boy; she would do him the courtesy of treating him accordingly.
The porch and floors, old and creaky since long before she and her husband and infant son had moved in decades ago, greeted them with typical fanfare as they trudged over the threshold. She dripped her way over to the stove, where she put the kettle on; it was unlikely that her visitor would want any, but she most certainly did. Setting her pail of moss by the stove to deal with later, she glanced back to see the lad standing in the middle of the space, staring up at the roof.
Gail wondered if he noticed that he wasn't wet.
"Say," she said, carefully pulling teacups out of the cupboard, "what did you say your name was?"
He looked at her sharply. "I… I don't think I did."
"Hmmmm. Well, how should I call you, then?"
He stared at her.
In the background, the rain continued on.
"Should I just call you ma'am, then?" He said, smiling faintly.
Gail squinted at him. "Now then, young man, are you dodging the question deliberately, or do you just not have an answer?"
"Oh." He glanced around the kitchen, then back to her, and blanked. "Sorry, what was the question?"
Gail rested back against the counter. She picked up her glasses from where she'd left them this morning, and stuck them on, pushing the temples through her sodden mess of hair. "I was just asking what your name was."
His eyes widened. "I… don't… Didn't I answer that?"
"Not as I can recall."
"That… that was rude of me, then, wasn't it?" His eyes were still wide, and the brown was fading.
Maybe it was rude of her to keep pressing the matter. He seemed not to know. Gail pressed her glasses firmer on her nose, trying to reach some kind of decision—but whatever was going on with her guest had been set in motion.
"What is my name?" He asked, his voice rising. "I can't remember my name."
"That's alright, dear," she said, trying to distract him, calm him down. "Do you remember where you were before my garden?"
It had the opposite effect.
He stepped back, towards the door, and glanced around with eyes that no longer understood where he was. "No… I-I can't remember… where am I? Do you know my name?"
"I'm afraid I—"
The kettle shrieked into the space between them with a rush of steam.
The lad cast a wild glance in its direction, stepped backwards. Gail, startled into motion, scrambled to shut the thing off.
When she turned back, the space where he had stood was dry and empty. She and the rain and her pail of terrarium moss had been left alone again.
#inklingschallenge#inklings 2023#team lewis#genre: portal fantasy#theme: burial#theme: visiting the sick#story: unfinished#the santa juliana files#terrarium lights#original fiction#scribe does inklings
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Wildflowers - Part 3: The date.
Pierre Gasly x Reader
Summary: The first date with you and Pierre Gasly/
Warnings: Language, mentions of seeing boobs, drinking
Word Count: 2778
Authors note: We love an awkward Pierre, although, this is a but more rom-com type vibe, hope you all like 😊
_____
“So I assume you’ve got the date all planned?” Charles asked Pierre as they sat down on Lando’s couch after grabbing a drink each from the kitchen.
“Yeah, what have you decided on doing?” Max himself was curious, wondering what magical thing Pierre would end up doing for you as an actual date.
“Oh, I was thinking of just taking her to that little cafe on the corner by my place and then maybe an ice cream and a walk along the docks” Pierre beamed at the idea, hoping to keep the first date super casual, relaxed, truer to who he was.
“Is that all?” Lando was less than impressed by the date he had planned for the girl he already seemed to prove he was willing to go to greater lengths for.
“What do you mean is that all?” A wave of insecurity suddenly overcoming Pierre.
“Well, I mean, she definitely seems like the kind of girl where you should be putting in a little more effort you know?” Charles was slightly disappointed in what his friend had come up with, knowing that he had definitely put in a lot of effort for girls he did not care for in the least, and then this is all he does for you, he was definitely disappointed.
A panic suddenly overcame Pierre, had he completely fucked this up?
“Oh my god she’s going to hate the date” Pierre was suddenly frantically wracking his brain for a new plan, completely throwing the original one out, “Jesus, what the fuck do I do?”
“Hey, hey, lets calm down, we can come up with something new, when’s the date?” Daniel asked, already thinking about what contacts he had to get Pierre into some of the more upper-class restaurants of Monaco.
“It’s fucking tomorrow” Pierre was now up and pacing. He had blown his date with you before it had even begun.
“Well, that’s a bit fucking soon” Max was even feeling a little stressed for Pierre.
“Okay, no, no, this is fine, I’m sure between the five of us we can figure something out” Charles was immediately doing damage control, “firstly, absolutely no to the diner”
“I know someone who can get you a reservation at the hotel de Paris” Daniel offered up
“Call them” Charles instructed, Daniel immediately leaving the room, phone in hand.
“We need to organise a car to pick her up” Lando always had his go to company, knowing how impressed women were whenever he sent one.
“Also, a massive bunch of flowers, maybe even a necklace?” Max had always made a girl smile with a beautiful diamond necklace.
“Yes, yes to it all, Lando, organise a car as soon as Daniel gets back with the reservation time, Max, call a florist and whatever jeweller you can, something fancy okay?” Charles was divvying out responsibilities to the group, “Now, lets sort out what you’re going to wear” he directed towards Pierre.
“The Cannes suit was pretty good. No creases?” Lando offered up, wondering if he had that pressed.
“Yes, that could work, is that good to go?” Charles again directed to Pierre.
“Yes, yes, no that can will work” Pierre was beyond thankful for his friends, how they managed to save him every single time when it came to you.
“Reservation made for 7pm”Daneil walked back into the room with the suggest look on his face, made all the worse by the sigh of relief let out from Pierre.
“Lando, you’re up” Max got the younger lad moving, as he himself finished picking a bouquet of flowers, making the sure the florist could get it done in time for them, then moving onto the necklace, “listen, we want gold or a silver?” Max asked, presenting the options to the group at large.
“Gold, obviously” Charles picked on behalf of Pierre, “Like, lets be honest, we got to show these girls we can spoil them don’t we?”
All hummed in agreement, knowing the lengths they had to go to in order to keep women interested or else they would simply be whisked away by the next millionaire in Monaco.
“Car is set, is there anything else we need to sort out?” Lando asked, sitting back down
“Other than basics, I think we just sorted out your perfect date in a matter of half an hour, now was that so tough?” Max laughed at Pierre, who looked visibly less stressed than he did a few moments ago.
_____
“You got the flowers and necklace?” Charles asked over the phone, doing one last check on Pierre as he stood outside the Hotel de Paris as he waited for your car to pull up.
“Yeah, everything set” Pierre reassured Charles, “do you think she’s going to like it all?” Pierre allowed himself a moment of insecurity.
“What girl wouldn’t” Charles assured Pierre, always shocked at how nervous you seemed to make his friend, “Listen to me, you’re going to have an amazing time, I promise, she’s going to love it” with that the boys said their goodbyes, anticipating your arrival any second.
Next minute, Pierre saw your car drive up and he made his way down the stairs to open your door, fixing his jacket as he did so.
As he opened your door and helped you climb out, he was mesmerized by your beauty, you really were the kind of girl he pictured himself settling down with. He considered himself so lucky to have found you so soon in his life. He looked at you like you had put the stars in the sky yourself.
You on the other hand looked, embarrassed?
Oh god, what had he done wrong?
Pierre kissed your cheek and began leading you inside, “hey, is everything okay?” he sheepishly asked, concerned you didn’t like where he had picked for your date.
“No, no, everything is perfect” you awkwardly replied, “just, I guess I’m a little under dressed, was expecting something a little different” you admitted.
“You look absolutely perfect, I promise” and he meant it. Pierre was pretty sure you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
You on the other hand couldn’t ignore the obvious looks of disapproval from the other patrons at your obvious attire faux pas.
“Thank you, just, when you said it was going to be casual-“ you began explaining yourself as Pierre pulled your chair out for you and you got settled.
“Oh shit, didn’t I let you know that things had changed?” It had suddenly dawned on Pierre that he had never informed you of the date change, you specifically having asked how you should dress, and now here you were sitting in one of the most expensive restaurants in Monaco in a very casual outfit.
“You did not” he didn’t miss the look on your face, suddenly realising how embarrassed you must feel, God he felt awful, “you really do look great though”.
He beamed at the compliment, almost making you be uncomfortable something you could ignore if he was this happy.
Finally, something good, this was going well, just one little mess up, but he could get past that.
“Well, I uhm, got you something” he handed over the necklace, expecting you to be ecstatic, and you seemed it, before you actually opened the gift.
Once you had seen the ostentatious gold necklace though, he watched your face drop, before being replaced with a forced smile.
“Oh, it’s lovely” you feigned your adoration of the gift, and truly, you were thankful for the fact that he thought to get you a gift, but the gift itself, was really over the top.
“I’m so glad you like it” Pierre sent you a soft smile, too nervous to actually realise that this was all too grand for someone like you, your own tastes being lower key.
You were beyond thankful when you had been interrupted by the waiter, giving you an opportunity to put the gift to the side, ready to place a drink order and hope the evening would get better with the Pierre you thought you knew from the races.
“A bottle of dry red please, and for both of us the chefs special when we are ready” Pierre had taken charge of the order, deciding what the both of you would be having without ever consulting you.
This wasn’t the date you were expecting.
This wasn’t the Pierre you thought you knew.
Thank goodness you’d spoke to your friend about potentially giving you an emergency call to get you out of there if needed.
_____
‘Oh my god is he still talking about himself?’ You rolled your eyes as you poured yourself another drink, not wanting to be rude, but truthfully, this might be the worst date you had ever been on.
“Oh, and then she’d asked if she could have my number, but obviously I said no” Pierre continued telling a story that the boys had suggested, stating that girls want a guy that other girls want, so he pulled out every single story he could, desperately wanting you to fall for him the same way he had for you.
You did nothing but chime in with a hum every now and then, with minimal interest, more captivated by the glass in your hand than this ridiculous display from Pierre.
This was definitely not the guy you had fallen for.
“Your dinner” the waiter placed your food down in front of you and oh my god had he really just messaged someone? Seriously? At dinner with you?
This was the last straw, honestly, you had so hoped this evening would be better, but clearly Pierre was not the man you thought and quite honestly if he was going to be this rude, well then, so were you.
Thank goodness for the wine.
“Listen, forgive me, but I should go” you gave him no room to argue as you just got up and began walking out of the restaurant, purposely choosing not to look at him, embarrassment further creeping into your bones, as had been the theme of the entire night.
“Wait, Y/n-“ Pierre was immediately getting up and charging after you, trying to pay as quickly as possible in order to catch up to you.
By the time he did you were already halfway down the street.
“Y/n, wait!” he shouted after you. Fuck, why were these shoes so fucking awful to run in, “what, like, what’s going on, where you not having a good time?” Fear set in, what had he done wrong, wasn’t this what all women wanted?
“Pierre, like, okay, truthfully, I’m not entirely sure this is going to work out” you didn’t stop, not really wanting to have this conversation in public, but eventually you found him in front of you, stopping you from going anywhere, determined to talk it out.
“Wait, but why, like, I thought, I don’t know, like, fuck, I just really like you” he knew he was waffling, but you walking out was not part of the plan, he didn’t know what to do.
“Pierre, I just think we are really different people and you clearly want something different” you gestured over to the hotel, and then to yourself.
“No, like, you are everything I want, I just, fuck, I just wanted it to be the perfect night” he was officially out of ides, maybe dating just wasn’t for him, he just wished he didn’t have to hurt you in the process.
“Your idea of a perfect night was not telling me we were going somewhere super fancy so I literally rocked up in chucks while you’re in a suit, embarrassed out of my mind, then giving me the most ridiculous necklace, so what, you could prove you had money, ordering for me, like I cant decide that for myself and then literally doing nothing other than talking about yourself and how you just reject girls” you knew your tone was harsh and you were 100% prepared to blame that on the wine, but in truth, you were disappointed in him, “Oh, and to top it all off, you sat on your phone, what, messaging other girls?”
“No, this isn’t my idea of a perfect night at all” Pierre looked more disappointed than you felt.
“What do you mean?” Why had he done all of this then if this isn’t what he wanted?
“Honestly, I wanted to take you to this little café near my house. When I first moved here, it was the first place I went to grab something to eat, and they made this meal that reminded me of exactly how my mom used to cook it, it’s one of my favourite places in the world and its relaxed and we could have spoken because all I want is to get to know you better and I know all the people who work there and I just wanted you to experience it and then I was going to take you to get ice cream, because it’s your favourite dessert in the world, choc mint right? And then I wanted to take you on a walk on the docks, because there’s this really great game I used to play and I’d pick a boat and give it a new name and like, imagine all the places I’d go with it and it, I don’t know, kept me motivated to achieve my dreams in F1 and I guess I just, fucked it all up” Pierre tried to explain it all to you, knowing that he had already ruined it so there was no harm at this point, “for that date, you’re dressed literally perfectly” he really thought you were, God, you were beautiful.
“What the fuck Pierre! That date sounds fucking perfect! Why didn’t we do that one?” how had you ended up on the literal worst date in the world when he had planned all of that?
“Charles and them got in my head okay! They said it wasn’t good enough and then they got me this reservation and said I should get you this necklace because like, girls only really like us for our money and that I should just talk about how girls want me because that’s going to make you want me more and girls like assertive men so I should order for you and fuck, I was on my phone because I was messaging Charles telling him how amazing I thought you were” he rushed through the explanation, desperately hoping you’d understand why he did what he did. “Oh, and honestly, I forgot to tell you about the date change because I am so fucking nervous of messing things up with you , which I clearly did anyway, and I completely forgot” he threw his hands up, having officially given up completely.
You were laughing. Holy shit, you were laughing, there may be a way to salvage this.
“You took advice from the same boys that said I would show you my boobs?” you were now laughing uncontrollably, inciting laughter from Pierre as well.
“They’re pretty shit at advice aren’t they” he could listen to you laugh for the rest of his life. “What are the chances of me getting a do-over?” he sheepishly asked.
“I am literally starving so, I’d love to see this café of yours” you couldn’t stay mad at him at all, “I do juts have one condition”
“Anything” and Pierre meant it, fuck, if you wanted him to buy a yacht for you he would at this point.
“Just considering your track record of how bad you are at doing the right things in important moments, I’m just letting you know now, when you drop me off at home at the end of this date, I am expecting a kiss at the end of all this” this was definitely the wine making you brave.
Pierre stopped in his tracks, a new wave of excitement and fear coursing through him, “You want me to kiss you?” bewildered eyes met your own.
“I mean, only if you want to?” you suddenly felt self-conscious, fuck, had you messed this all up?
“I mean, all I can think about is kissing you” God, did he really just say that?
“Well, then lets hope this second date goes better than the first” you grabbed his hand as you let him lead you through the streets of Monaco to the café, “might even get to see my boobs if it goes really well” laughing as you watched him trip, physically feeling his hand get clammy at the thought.
“I promise, this will be the best date you have ever had”
#pierre gasly#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#charles leclerc#monaco#daniel ricciardo#max verstappen#f1 x reader#Pierre Gasly x Reader#pierre gasly imagine#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula one imagine#pierre gasly x you#pierre gasly fanfic#f1 x you#pierre gasly oneshot
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The Tenets of Growth: Part 4
Atonement
First: The Path of Cultivation
Prev: Flowering || Next: Replanting
CW: torture, restraints, hung by wrists, stress position, beating/caning, religious themes, religion used to justify torture, multiple whumpers.
Word count: 1900~
Author's Note: Putting the author's note at the top this time because this is it lads, this chapter actually contains actual, physical whump. Not referenced whump, not whump that's alluded to happening, this is an actual scene with two whumpers physically hurting a whumpee. Hooray! As much as I love the character and world building I'm doing, I do also love writing whump for whump's sake, and from here on out the amount of whump in this story is going way up, so if you saw the previous parts of this story and thought "hm, not whumpy enough for my tastes" then I'd ask you to check this chapter and the next chapter out and reconsider, because we're getting into it in earnest now! Anway, I'll stop rambling and let you enjoy the show <3
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The guards came for the thief early in the morning. They yanked him to his feet, clapped iron cuffs around his wrists and ankles, and threw a bag over his head before hauling him out of the prison.
The transport was a confused blur full of manhandling, jostling, and painful jabs, and by the time they reached their destination, the thief had nearly gone slack in the guard's grip. He let himself be dragged through he didn't know how many hallways and corridors, until finally coming to a halt.
He heard someone knock, followed by the sound of a squeaky hinge, then he was shoved so suddenly that he fell forward, catching himself awkwardly on his hands and knees.
“Ah, excellent. His papers, please?” said a woman’s voice, followed by a rustling as the guards complied with her request. “Thank you. You may go.”
The guards’ footsteps receded, but before the thief could even catch his breath, a new pair of hands grabbed him by the arms and tugged him to his feet. His arms were pushed above his head, and he heard the rattle of chains before the hands retreated. He tugged experimentally, and found that the cuffs on his wrists had been attached to something above him, forcing him to keep his arms raised.
“Very good,” said the woman’s voice. “I must see to other preparations now. Inform me when he is ready for Replanting.”
More footsteps, then the squeak of the hinge again, followed by the clang of the door shutting. The thief swallowed, doing his best not to think about what the other prisoners had said.
“Some folks say they get killed…used as sacrifices in rituals and the like.”
That had to be nothing but a rumor, he simply couldn’t believe that the Order was performing secret human sacrifices. Perivyta was a harvest goddess, for goodness sake. But why else would they chain him in a dungeon like a slaughtered pig? Was there some other ritual they performed that required a live victim?
“I don't know what happens in those Nurseries of theirs, but mark my words, boy. It's nothing good.”
“Lift him,” said a low voice, interrupting his thoughts.
The thief barely had time to wonder what “lift him” meant before the sound of a crank turning filled the room and his wrists were raised higher above his head. With each rotation of the crank, his arms were pulled higher and higher, until his bare feet were scrambling against the stone floor for any purchase he could get to relieve the pressure on his wrists and shoulders.
“Enough,” the low voice finally said, and the cranking stopped, leaving him precariously balanced on the tips of his toes. “Remove his clothing.”
“What?!” the thief cried out. “Hey! Stop!”
He jerked wildly as a pair of hands began pulling on his trousers, but he froze when he felt something cold and sharp press into his neck. Once he stilled, his trousers and shirt were briskly stripped away, leaving him in only his underthings. The blade withdrew from his neck, and he shivered, from cold or fear, he wasn’t sure.
"Remove the hood."
He blinked at the sudden flood of light as the bag was pulled roughly from his head, then quickly looked around, trying to get a read on his surroundings.
The room was fairly small, with wooden walls and a stone floor, and he was suspended from the ceiling in the very center. Two people stood in front of him; one was shorter and wore a simple robe of undyed linen tied with a red sash, while the taller man wore a robe dyed fully red, tied with a sash that matched. Both had the hoods of their robe pulled up, and their sleeves were tucked into the ends of thick leather gloves. This alone made for an unsettling silhouette, but what were particularly nerve wracking were the cloth masks covering the bottom halves of their faces, leaving only their eyes visible.
“What’s going on?” he asked, hoping that his voice didn’t betray his fear. “What are you going to do to me?”
Neither responded, but the shorter one in the uncolored robe glanced briefly to the taller one in red.
So, there was a hierarchy between the two.
As if to confirm his suspicions, the man in red nodded to the other, who stepped behind the thief and out of sight. The man in red tilted his head back, lifted his hands up, and spoke.
“To walk the path of Perivyta is to embrace Her will and grow in Her light. When we forsake Her ways, we forfeit our place at Her Table of Plenty.”
The man lowered his hands and looked the thief in the face.
“What rot has manifested in your life that has brought you here to me?”
“I- what? What are you talking about?”
The man did not reply, and looked over the thief’s shoulder. Before he could turn to see what the man was looking at, he heard the sound of the crank again and found himself being hoisted higher, until he was dangling nearly a foot off the ground.
“What rot has manifested in your life that has brought you here to me?” the man repeated.
“Nothing!” the thief exclaimed. “I don’t know what you mean!”
The man just shook his head.
There was a *thunk* from behind, and the thief craned his head, trying to look at where the sound came from. The assistant had dragged over a crate, and the thief watched in morbid curiosity as they reached inside and pulled out a set of iron spheres connected by a chain.
“Listen,” he began. “I don’t-”
His words were cut short by the assistant, who draped the chain connecting the spheres over the cuffs between his ankles. The weight couldn’t have been much more than five pounds, but it was enough to put noticeable strain on his already aching shoulders.
“Every time you lie,” the man in red said calmly. “The weight will increase.”
“But I’m telling the truth!” the thief insisted. The assistant added another pair of weights, and he grunted as the pressure on his shoulders intensified.
“I will ask until you answer,” the man said. “What. Rot. Has manifested in your life.”
“I don’t know!” The thief groaned as the assistant placed more weights. “I don’t know what you mean, what do you mean?”
“When rot enters our lives, we forget Perivyta’s way,” the man said. “We turn from her path of light and lead lives that bring only suffering, to ourselves as well as others. What rot has manifested-”
“Theft!” he cried, understanding at last what the man wanted from him. “Theft, I- I stole from people. Broke into their houses.”
“How many lives did you allow your rot to poison?”
“I…don’t know,” the thief said. The assistant added even more weights, and he choked back a cry of pain.
“How many lives did you allow your rot to poison?”
“I, I broke into three houses,” he said. “I don’t know how many people- agh!”
“Still you continue to lie,” the man said, shaking his head. “Or perhaps you are merely a fool.”
“I don’t know!” the thief insisted. “It was three houses, I don’t know how many people lived there- no!”
His shoulders were screaming with agony; every additional weight threatened to pop his arms out of their sockets completely. Tears welled unbidden in his eyes, and the man in red stepped closer to him.
“The Goddess knows the truth of your heart,” he said. “You cannot hide your wandering from her, and you cannot atone until you admit fully to what you have done. How many lives did you allow your rot to poison?”
“I- ten,” the thief gasped. “I robbed ten houses, please, I don’t know how many people were there but I robbed ten houses, please, please…”
“Repeat these words: I submit to Perivyta’s will, that she may welcome me once more to Her Table.”
“I- I submit to Perivyta’s will,” he repeated helplessly. “That she may welcome me once more to Her Table, Please, no more, I’m sorry, please…”
The man in red nodded to the assistant, and after a moment the chain holding the thief up suddenly went slack, dropping him back to the floor. His feet had gone numb and he landed hard on his knees, but the sob he let out was one more of relief than of pain.
The assistant quickly gathered up the weights, returning them to their crate. The man in red lifted his hands above his head again and turned his face up towards the ceiling.
“The Goddess has heard your confession,” he said. “We prune away our rot in life, so that in death we might rightfully join with Her and be fruitful in Her eyes.”
He lowered his hands, then nodded to his assistant.
“Position him.”
The assistant began to turn the crank again, and the thief’s eyes widened as his arms were pulled back over his head.
“Wait, wait!” he exclaimed.
He tried to scramble to his feet, but a gloved hand pressed between his shoulder blades, forcing him to stay on his knees.
“I confessed!” he pleaded, looking up at the man in red with wide eyes. “It was ten, I robbed all ten houses! I confessed!”
“You did,” the man in red agreed. “And now you atone.���
The man held out his hand, and the assistant appeared, placing a long, thin cane in the man’s grip.
“Turn him,” the man commanded.
“No, stop, just wait, please-”
His begging fell on deaf ears, and the assistant grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around so that he was facing the opposite wall. His breath caught in his throat, and he stared in horrified disbelief at what was now visible to him.
The wall was neatly lined with dozens of tools: blades, pliers, shears, chains, whips, coils of rope, and other things he couldn’t even name. This wasn’t a cell, as he’d first assumed.
This was a torture chamber.
“In Perivyta’s name, I restore you to Her favor,” the man in red said, and the thief braced himself.
The first strike across his back was harder than he’d thought it’d be, and he let out a strangled cry.
“One,” said a small voice, the first time the thief had heard the assistant speak.
The cane connected again and the thief’s body jerked.
“Two.”
Again and again, the cane cracked across his back, and again and again he spasmed with pain. The assistant counted quietly for each strike, and the thief tried to focus on their voice, on counting the tools on the wall, on anything other than the white hot pain exploding across his back.
After the sixth blow, there was a pause, and for a moment he thought it was over, but then the man spoke again.
“Repeat these words: I give thanks to Perivyta for this Pruning, that I may walk Her Path of Light anew.”
“Please,” the thief whispered, tears streaming down his face.
“If you do not, then we will begin again.”
“I…I give thanks to Perivyta for this P-pruning….that I may walk Her Path of Light anew.”
The cane struck, and he screamed.
---
Prev: Flowering || Next: Replanting
Tenets of Growth Masterlist
#whump#whump fic#whump blog#whump writing#chained#beaten#caned#religious whump#tenets of growth#stress position#cedar
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Redhead Robber: Sean MacGuire X Male Reader
Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as ‘bloke’ and ‘handsome’
Physical Sex: None Mentioned
Rating: T/Violence, language
Warnings: Sean never shuts up, robbery, reader is the victim, Sean flirts endlessly
Summary: Two robbers come into the store looking for your boss’s stash of money, one of them is much more friendly than the other.
You have never been robbed before. A feat you are relatively proud of given the gang activity around your town. The O’Driscolls have left you alone so far, not glancing twice at your shop, but you have growing suspicions about a couple of men standing outside. They’re lingering far too much for your comfort, looking around like they’re searching for something specific. You have a shotgun, most shop owners do. It’s a trusty short range weapon that makes for a good defense in close quarters like a shop. You’ve never really shot it at someone, but there is a first time for everything.
Your boss comes in, boxes in hand, and drops them on the counter. He’s an old man that’s owned this shop longer than anyone else has owned anything in this town. He smiles and asks you to put the inventory away while he visits the doctor. His back has been bothering him, so you’ve been taking care of the shop more and more. Half of you hopes he’ll just give you the shop, the other half is content with the pay increases and lack of stress. You turn your focus to the new inventory, taking stock with the catalog and making note of any defective product.
Then the bell on the door dings and you’re very upset with yourself for not being close enough to grab that shotgun. Two men enter, both masked. One has a piercing look and scars peeking out from under his mask, the other has red hair and a more relaxed gaze. You freeze as they aim their guns, knowing there’s not much you can do from your position.
“You’re gonna stay here.” The scarred man orders. “I’ll be in the back.”
His partner nods to him and he disappears into the store room where you know the old man keeps a stash of money.
“Hand over the money, love.” The redhead says with an obvious Irish accent. “I’d hate ta shoot a handsome lad like you.”
You step over to one of the boxes you’d been going through and grab the money. The robber holds his gun loosely, barley pointed at you. He’s more focused on looking you over as you gather the cash for him. When you hand him the money he lingers, letting his fingers brush over yours.
“Good man!” He says, glancing to the storage door. “If I’d known you was such a pretty face, I wouldn’t a’ introduced myself like this.”
He chuckles, eyes fixing on yours. With his distinctive features you wonder how no one has caught him yet. There aren’t a lot of redheads in general, there are even less that are immigrants, and substantially less that act the way he does. It’s a small town, people will recognise him if he sticks around for long. The mask doesn’t hide nearly enough.
“What’s takin’ so long, Marston?” He calls to his friend.
“Still lookin’!”
He sighs. “Could ya show us where the stash is, love?”
“The old man’s savings for his surgery?” You ask. “No.”
“Hey,” The robber laughs. “It’s the old man’s fault fer talkin’about it.”
“And you’re fine with an old man dying because you took his money for surgery?”
He groans. “That ain’t fair! We’re just makin’ a livin’, love.”
“I’m making a living.” You say, pointing to yourself. “You’re robbing an innocent old man.”
The robber rolls his eyes. “He can sell the shop, huh? Still be able to get his surgery.”
“And be bankrupt after? How thoughtful of you.”
“You’re startin’ ta get on my nerves, handsome.”
That is the point. The old man doesn’t even need surgery, not yet anyway. You just felt the need to annoy the cocky robber once he started flirting with you. His partner comes out from the back, a frustrated look on the half of his face you can see.
“I can’t find it.” He says.
The redhead looks at you. “Come one now, love. You show us the stash and I’ll let ya keep some of it.”
You pretend to think. You have no idea where the stash is, just that it’s back there somewhere. “Can’t do that.”
The redhead laughs. “I like ya love. Can we keep him, Marston? Please?”
The scarred robber draws his gun and aims it at you, much more solidly than his friend. “Where’s the money?”
You raise your hands. “Old man might have taken it to the doctor already. It’s not my shop, I don’t know.”
He lowers the gun. “Damn it.”
“Oh, it’s not a total loss, Marston.” The redhead laughs. “The handsome bloke here gave us a good amount. And he’s pretty easy on the eyes compared ta what I’m usually stuck with.”
“Let’s go.” The scarred man huffs, walking to the door.
“It’s been fun love.” The redhead holsters his weapon and winks at you. “Maybe I’ll see ya again, under more friendly circumstances.”
The robbers depart and you move over to the window. You can see them walking down the street, masks now removed to not draw suspicion. You make note of their faces as best you can to tell the Sheriff later. Cute or not, the bastard robbed you.
#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#red dead redemption x reader#red dead redemption x male reader#x reader#x male reader#sean macguire#sean macguire x reader#sean macguire x male reader
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Blood & Wine
Put the bet on... on something.
Another day, another chapter. This one is shorter because i didn't want anyone who reads to get bored midway.
Next chapter will be longer. And hopefully life won't punch me in the face yet again, so i can post a new chapter sooner.
P.S. Today Kler and her song "Любов" ("Love") helped me a lot to put this chapter together. Thank you, Kler.♡
"In the depths of the depths
That salty love
Emerges, emerges
And will fly between the worlds
Looking for those two again
To connect, and will connect them"
She has no idea how she got there. One moment she's trying to study criminology, the next she's working as an interrogation expert and psychologist for an elite Task Force. Soldiers mixed with CIA agents mixed with private companies like Shadow Company. Too much for someone who tries to avoid the whole military world.
Red even regrets starting to work in that mess, also a bit angry at Kate Laswell and her honeyed words that could convince even professionals like Red to 'help the right cause.'
Fucking empathy and the wish to always help everyone. Right, Red?
Those regrets don't last long - she simply has no time to think about it much. And like a proper psychologist, Red tells herself: 'Be positive, keep it positive!' while at the same time wanting to fist fight Soap for trying to start a political banter with Gaz.
'I love that work!' - new mantra for Red. Works with varied success. The thing that works non-stop just like she does is tranquilizers.
She loves that work unironically, at least for down-to-earth Captain Price. Bless his soul.
Truth be told, Red has no idea why they need her there. Absolutely all of them are amazing at human behavior reading. Maybe they themselves don't understand that? Who knows.
But all of them are weirdly sweet. Even Ghost or as Red calls him 'Mr. My Chemical Romance' is strangely patient with the "lowly" civvie. Well, he was the one to give her the nickname, wasn't he? 'You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed' maybe? Because sometimes Red feels like a little pet the men of Task Force took in - a bit annoying and might reduce stress. (While giving her even more stress).
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
"Ye sure that Freud was wrong about oral fixations? Price smokes a lot. Maybe it's something from childhood?" Soap fell down with a loud thump on the small couch in Red's office.
"You smoke too, Soap," the woman shakes her head, looking skeptically at the Scottish soldier.
"All of us do, lassy," the man mumbles, taking the couch pillow and making it a hostage of his hug. "But Price... Price smokes too much!" His Scottish accent is nice to the ear. Not harsh, yet prominent.
"Well, considering how messy some of your missions are... no wonder he smokes so much," Red shrugs, looking out the window of her office, gazing at the trees near the base, enjoying the spring green.
Captain Price is a workaholic. Everyone knows that. Late hours is nothing to him if the work calls. No matter if he needs to save the world or to file some paper work. He just gets himself a glass of whiskey and a good cigar. And works, works and works. Red is jealous of his ability to sit and do the work so patiently without needing to stop every fifteen minutes and stare into the wall.
Sergeant's tired sight brings Red back from the deep thoughts.
"Why are you here, by the way? Something happened?"
"Why every time I'm visiting, you think I did something? You never doubt LT like you doubt me, lass." MacTavish couldn't help but tease.
"Why? Because it was you who tried avoiding Ghost after losing his knife while sitting in my office... lad," Red let out a chuckle, remembering that whole ordeal. "Your mohawked head cannot stay out of troubles for at least a week..."
"Yeah... fair." Scotsman laughs, turning to look at the ceiling. His blue eyes are still full of something. Something that Red understands as a curiosity.
"Why does Ghost spend so much time here in your office, though?" Mischievous glint in John's eyes took Red off guard. "He doesn't want to talk about the fact that he spends most of his free time on base here, in your office."
Soap is sometimes too smart for his own good. He's sees small things, notices the smallest changes in human behavior. Red once thought that if he wouldn't be a soldier he would make a good psychologist. But on the other hand Soap and his fiery personality helps him a lot in his line of work.
Interacting with him is interesting. He is weirdly accepting of Red's anonymity. Which, of course, warms her heart and gives her the feeling of belonging that she was seeking. She would never tell him that, though.
Red knows damn well not to give Soap too much information. Not to give him something that he might use later to tease her or his Lieutenant.
"Because, my dear Soap, my sweet sweet lovely, Johnny..." the psychologist began, using that sweet, nice voice on the Scottish soldier, "I'm cooler than you all!"
Soap couldn't help but laugh, still thinking that he won't leave his question unanswered. He's persistent, he'll finds out his truth. Like he always does. If not truth than at least something to tease Red and Ghost with.
Or maybe he and the rest should put the bets on... on something.
Silence filled the room yet again, letting them both enjoy fleeting moments of peace.
Tag list: @cloudofbutterflies92 @chloekistune @justasmolbard
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SagaVerse Out!Code #26
The information below is canon to SagaVerse only.
Name: Arch
Alias: Old Man
Age: Unknown
Height: 173 CM
Soul: Spheral Core
Origin: Unknown
Specialty: Clipboard
Original Author: Nemesis
v v v General Description v v v
Arch was once a brilliant scientist who cared for people and progress and had a wonderful wife and twins, one boy and one girl. But his wife had gotten sick, and despite all the progress made in the medical field, it was still impossible to cure her, which was killing him. He would go through many atrocities to find a solution for his wife. And the answer would be a new body for her to never get ill again, and it might not be even age.
But once he had reached his goal and went to tell his wife about it, she was shocked and repulsed by his actions. He expected her to not approve of this, but he didn't care if she hated him forever or had to live in prison as long as he could save her. So he went to finalize everything, but by the time he was done, his wife was dead from stress, guilt, or worry. She didn't last long after her husband told her about his doings.
This would leave the man alone with his two children. Their mother's death left them alone because the man would feel too guilty to even look at them. He was even ready to die and follow his wife to the afterworld. Still, he was afraid to leave his two children alone at the same time, so he lived trying for some time to take care of them before sending them away to relatives.
He looked at what he had done one last time before thinking of what to do. He could die and cut his suffering short… But even if there was an afterworld, if heaven and hell were true, then he'd surely go to hell and never see his wife anyway, and she would indeed never wish to see him again
.
In the end, he decided to use what he had done for his wife for himself instead of throwing it away and making all this effort go to waste, which also seemed better than dying as a shortcut to end his sorrow, whether it was driven by the fear of death or by some self-judgment, he would do so, it would end his life but only momentarily to be born again.
The only thing he did not know was that this would lead to the destruction of his world and the deletion of his memories, to only leave him with a bitter taste in his mouth once he woke up in a desert world. Knowledge with no memory was an odd sensation, and he had no idea what to do in this world aside from waiting for something…
And it didn't take long for something to happen. A Creator would come out to him, like a guide, though they wanted to have fun and make the lad some errand boy. Far later on, Arch found Ness in a Void on his way to visit Gaster.
#sagaverse#sagaverse cast#arch#undertale oc#undertale original character#undertale fan character#undertale fanart#utmv oc#undertale#undertale au#undertale au comic#undertale comic au#undertale comic#undertale fan comic#undertale alternate universe#undertale multiverse#original character#oc art#old man#fan character
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Elland? What would a handsome lad like you wish to see under the Christmas tree ?
Hi there!
Honestly? I already have everything I've ever wanted, and it's not like there exist artifacts that could forever rid me of stress. So a short answer? Nothing. Christmas is not about the presents, it's about people I spend it with, and they won't all fit under a Christmas tree.
As it usually is, William decides to hijack Elland's letter and this time the Hufflepuff does it without any protest. Both of them took part in a Secret Santa once and Will managed to describe Elland's own reserved preferences way better that Elland ever could.
Elland always says that but you should see him when he gets something of sentimental value! That sapphire earring he is wearing? It was a present from his younger brother a few years ago. You didn't hear it from me, but Cyrus mentioned Elland pretty much crying his eyes out when he got it.
Technically it could've also been because Elland was leaving for Hogwarts at the time, a year before Cyrus. But I don't see why it can't be both of those things at once. He dragged Cyrus to a jewelry place the same day to get him a matching earring, although with a blue sapphire.
Elland generally is not picky with food/style/trickets and so on but something handmade always makes him smile like a goof. Something practical also works, in warm and earthy colours, or black and white. Fun experiences never failed me. I took him to a concert last year since Elland is a musician, he kept humming the entire way back to the Manor AND I had to smash him with a pillow in the middle night cause he'd keep doing it without realising even if he was supposed to be slee—
The piece of parchment suddenly returns to its original owner, Will's unfinished ramblings evident only by the smudge of the last few characters he was so diligently drawing out on the page.
I think that's more than plenty of the prefect's secret files being revealed about me. Once again, I don't really need anything! People I am surrounded with are who I cherish the most. I wish you a wonderful holiday season!
Yours,
Elland de Strontium 🌙
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How would your characters react to being suddenly shrunk?
Oh this is a really fun question!
Zeke - His first response would be 1. Oh this is happening, okay. 2. How do I fix this
He is always the person solving problems, and putting out fires, so suddenly being tiny would certainly feel like something he needed to solve. But it would almost be like a forcing him to take a vacation, because he'll have to rely on others more heavily. So in a way, it would take a lot of pressure off of him. But he really does like having control. That sense of being in charge is what makes all the pressure that comes with it worth while. So, that would be hard for him to get over.
Oh ESPECIALLY if he shrinks and Marcus is there. Marcus would be just an absolute menace, which of course I mean as lovingly as possible but, dang. He's a lot to handle at his regular size, so if Zeke was tiny around him there would be chaos. The handling, the teasing. It would be wonderful. And with that I mean I don't think he would push Zeke to any kind of real breaking point. He might get frustrated and shout at Marcus to knock it off, lose his cool in that way? But I don't think he would have a full panic about it.
All in all, he would handle it decently well. He wouldn't particularly enjoy it but it certainly wouldn't break him.
Marcus- continuing on the theme of Marcus is on this earth to give Zeke a heart attack and no other reason, Marcus would THRIVE as a tiny. He would be climbing Zeke, he would be doing parkcore across the giant furniture, he would try to eat a cookie 3x his size. He's great at surfing the vibes, going with the flow and making the most of every situation. He would love this.
Felix- Gosh, he would be so angry and just hate every single second of being small.
As a giant shifter, he doesn't like that sometimes he has to grow at inopportune times, those moments he wishes he could be just a normal person. But if he was being honest with himself, he loves being big. Being tiny would NOT be it for him.
Charlie- she would be fine with this! She would want to go on a grand adventure and explore outside! Especially if Felix was there, she wouldn't be worried about getting hurt or anything because she knows he'd look out for her. Now, one thing she wouldn't enjoy would be if she was suddenly gigantic. THAT she would hate. She would tell Felix "being gigantic is so stressful. You make it look so easy."
Deckard - weirdly enough, I think that after the initial shock, he would love it. He would be able to get into so many strange shenanigans. He would absolutely sneak into all of the places that he's not supposed to be in and cause all sorts of mischief.
Lark and Isabell are already smol and neither of them have any interest in being smaller. So, I'll answer the opposite for them.
Lark- if she was human sized, well first order of business, she'd probably slap Deckard. After that they'd be fine. She wouldn't hate being human sized at all. It would probably be a huge relief to her.
If she was suddenly gigantic, that would be jarring to say the least. She would probably be a little awestruck like, "I looked this tiny to you???" She would probably be okay as a giant since she can empathize with what it's like to be so small.
Isabell- it she was human sized she would be so happy! My head cannon is that she would be quite short as a human, 5'2" or so. Zeke and Marcus are both just weirdly tall guys. Zeke is shorter of the two, but he's still tall. She would want to go to all the human places, do all the human things. She'd probably try to convince one of the lads to teach her how to drive.
She wouldn't like being giant either. Even if she was human sized and Zeke and Marcus were tiny she would be so uncomfortable. I actually have a short au buried in my WIPs somewhere where that kind of thing happens, and Zeke was having to like calm her down and talk her through picking him up. I'll have to find it again it was really cute.
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A little ramble about when you're too hyper or fidgety and its distracting/stressing you out more in the moment.
something I'm learning about myself as a confirmed adhd lad is that there are gonna be moments where you think you aren't having a too hyper, fidgety, or anxious moment- but all signs are showing that you might be.
How do I know? 20 minutes ago my body felt like it was twitching out of control and tense at the same time. I've been worried about my homework all week and the fact that I can't seem to get myself to do it even when I need to. I grabbed my weighted blanket thinking it'll prove I'm not anxious and you know what happened? I stopped twitching. I calmed down and relaxed more than I have in the last couple of hours.
So if you're feeling too hyperactive, anxious, fidgety, or whatever- find something to weigh you down and bring you back. Something like that helps in these moments where we aren't sure what is happening but know something is. Take care of yourself out there. Punishing your body isn't going to help you in the long run.
Also if you're wondering why I'm talking more about adhd than anxiety; its because my adhd is causing me stress, and now it's triggering my anxiety. This is just my experience. Plus, a situation like this (am really fidgety ---> distracts and or distresses me ---> grab weighted blanket or something to ground me ---> is calmed by it) has happened multiple times in the past.
Take care of yourselves y'all
#adhd#adhd brain#rambleing#andro's late night talks#anxiety#weighted blankets#weighted stuffed animal#self care
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I haven't seen you write any of those yet, but if you're not against it, I think something platonic about a teammate's partner or sister's friendship with Robbo would be really cute!
His teammates sister
Being James milners sister was never easy, infact it was one of the most confusing, stressful and chaotic things you ever had to live with. You love your brother as if he was your best friend but sometimes the protective older brother concept got in your way. Every lad you had ever brought home happened to be somewhat of a place holder for one evening meal yet never returned due to your brothers wondering and rudeness. Your sister in law Amy was a blessing in disguise, since they got married he had been lost in being the protective big brother and now become the protective father - leaving you completely free.
As sister duty calls you where sat waiting for your brother to return from the lengthy yet rewarding parade through Liverpool. After there bus tour the boys had a party to let there hair down and celebrate there successes from the past season. You loved these parties, every year became more and more of an event with gorgeous dresses and expensive shoes. Since James had sighned for lfc you where known as the second milner - similar to James, just slightly less boring.
-
"Y/n!" You heard from behind you as you took a long sip of your white wine. You scanned your eyes over to the booming voice.
"Joe!" You shouted back with a smile as you noticed Joe gomez walking to your embrace. You and Joe had developed a friendship you couldn't quite describe, you had both become inseparable at parties and always had a laugh between you both and with his girlfriend.
"How are you?" He asked with a smile as he sat himself down next to you. His girlfriend stood closely behind with a large smile on her face mirroring her boyfriends.
"I'm good thanky you, I just can't find James" you announced with a laugh as you slightly turned your head around to try and notice your older brother. You knew he had to be around somewhere, you saw most of the players flood in with beaming smiles and loud singing.
"Oh I think he is with robbo in reception" Joe replied back with a smile as he finally scanned his brains to try and figure out where the man could be.
"Oh thank god! I'll be two seconds!" You quickly urged as you jumped of your chair and took a beeline to James. You where fuming, livid and couldn't exactly figure out what you where going to say to him, but all you wanted to do was pull his hair out and scream. You pushed open the large doors revealing a brightly lit and quiet reception area.
"Oh hi y/n how are y-" robbo started before James left his sentence short and began his.
"What's wrong with you love?" James asked quickly as he could tell there was something not right. There weren't many times when you where lost for words other than tense football matches and right after James read his speech out at his wedding but right now was an exception. You had been seeing a guy you met at work for around six weeks before braving the meeting of your family, he had come to stay for the weekend whilst James was visiting and words where exchanged leading you to stop seeing this guy and for you to completely fume at your brother. You where on fire, ready to spread and burn through everything but now wasn't the place.
"You is whats wrong" you quietly spoke in more of a shouted whisper so the left back next to him was no longer parted in the conversation.
"Me? What have I done" he whispered back with a confused face and furrowed eyebrows.
"I'm not with Mat anymore! And do you know why? Because you couldn't shut your mouth and let me be happy with someone for once!" You whispered in more of a shout again as you started to become furious at the words falling from your mouth. You started to see his mind wondering and something sparking in his head, he knew, he was so aware what he had done, he knew it was bad when he did it but he still continued.
"Y/n look" James said trying to reason with you.
"No James I don't want to hear your shit exscuse! Right now I want to pull your hair out" you said back with a slight laugh at the end as there was something telling you that arguing right now wasn't worth the time or the energy. You where at this party to dance, laugh and make memories and there would be none of that with the two milners fighting one another in the foyer of a party.
"There's not much of it" James said with a laugh as he ran his hand across his thinning hair.
"Old age" you mumbled with a giggle.
"Stress" Andy robertson added from the side of you with a laugh.
"I'm gonna kill you two" James admitted with a laugh and a role of his eyes.
"Two against one james, two against one" Andy explained with fighting talk and raised eyebrows. James laughed to himself as he made a quick beeline to the doors of the party. You weren't ready to go in, you where still upset, heartbroken at the fact whatever or whoever you brought home would only lead to nothing but disaster.
"He's doing what's best for you you know" Andy announced as he watched you sit down on the plush white sofa in the foyer. He stood watching your hurt eyes and sulky smile.
"Its not whats best for me, its what's best for him and what he wants! Never what I want!" You quickly replied back with venom laced with every word in which fell from your mouth.
"He told me about that Mat, he sounded like a dickhead to me" he replied with a roll of his eyes as he threw himself down on the chair infront of you. You looked up at Andy.
"And what did James tell you?" You asked wanting him to elaborate on what was so much like dickhead behaviour.
"He was moody, had shit hair, didn't support liverpool, had a shocking car and ate like a pig" Andy listed with a laugh as your face turned up at the last note he gave you. He was right, he was a pig, a disgusting and vile pig but you had hope - crap hope.
"Ok James may have been right" you mumbled as you looked away from the left back infront of you. "Oh god I look like such a nobhead now" you realised as you covered your face with your hands. Andy felt something, he didn't like seeing you in this way. He wanted to help.
"Y/n" Andy said trying to get your attention as he started to see your pain. He lifted himself of the couch until leaning over to you. "Y/n" he repeated himself again as he gently took hold of your wrists and made you look up at him. It was in that moment he knew there was something so much more connecting you both to one another, this wasn't mutual friends, it was attraction and addiction. He was addicted to the same drug you where yet hadn't realised.
"Andy" you spoke back to him in the same tone as he did to you. Your lips where slightly parted and his eyes where locked onto yours.
"Your not a nobhead" he softly spoke back to you in that accent in which sent a million and one shivers down your spine.
"I'm not?" You asked making sure the words that fell from his mouth where true.
"No, your brother might be one but you are certainly not" he said reassuring your worry. His hand fell onto the side of your neck as his eyes stayed settled on your blue orbs. Your lips fell closer to his before pressing them onto one another. You didn't know how it happened or why, but it felt right, it felt perfect and it felt normal. His body was still resting over yours and his lips fell in sync with your own.
"I'm not looking! I'm not looking! I'm not looking" you heard from behind you both causing you both to turn around and part lips. Andys hand was still resting on your shoulder as he noticed the rather large and rather drunk virgil van dijk covering his eyes and making nothing but a beeline to the toilets.
Was it Andy that could finally stop your brothers crying and fix the hole in your heart that was crumbling from constant let down and failure. It was. It is.
I'm sorry this isn't exactly what you where looking for but as I was writing it just seemed to pan out this way! I really really hope you enjoyed this Robbo imagine. I havent ever written anything with Joe Gomez in but would anyone want Joe Gomez imagines? If so feel free to request. Please leave feedback as it is greatly appreciated. 🤍
@prettylittletrent @cornertakenquicklyyyy @trentskis @trentalexanderarnold @robbo38 @robbothegoat @kostasstsimikass @chelseamount @chloereddy @tsimikasfamily @avenirdelight @blueathens @jordanhendersunshine @mrs-henderson @thatonesexycancerian @hendersons1truelover @nyctophilic0vitnir @peekapeaches @tsimikxs @tsimikostas @trentalexarnofan @leddows @moneymasnn @superkittywonderland @virgilvansike @virgilvandickmedown @hopefulromantic1 @robbo-trent-fanfiction26
#lfc imagines#lfc masterlist#liverpool imagines#lfc imagine#scotland fc imagines#scotland nt imagines#andy robertson imagine#andy robertson x y/n#andy robertson x reader#andy robertson imagines#premier league imagines#footballer imagines#football fanfic
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