my loneliness has got me acting like a complete & utter fool

Hello! May I please request 9, 15, and 20 prompts by for an-ambivalent Aegon II Targaryen, thank you! :)

Omg, you're giving me an excuse to write pathetic Aegon II? Of course I will. For context, you two are both married. I'd break him. Let's be honest, this is more self-indulgent than yandere... and I am not guilty.

There's two ways I could've done this. This version... and Aegon having a mental breakdown the moment you try to leave him. So maybe, as I don't want to scrap this one, I'll make two versions in the future :) The second option is more yandere so I may write both sometime later. This is submissive Aegon, the other one would be more dominant Aegon.

Prompts Here

Version B

Yandere Aegon II Targaryen Prompts 9, 15, 20 (Version A)

"I will never let you leave me."

"Submit yourself wholly and only to me."

"You are the reason I live."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Desperate/Pathetic Aegon, Mature themes, Mentioned intimacy, Kissing, Controlling behavior, Implied dominant darling, Soft yandere, Dubious relationship.

Aegon was not really known for being devoted to anyone. Many knew him as a hedonistic prince and king, plus if you asked The Blacks they'd say he was a usurper to the Iron Throne. Not many saw him as responsible or dedicated.

While Aegon did in fact sleep around due to his hedonistic desires, there was only one person who truly held his heart. Aegon may be able to pull whoever he wants when he wants... but there's only one he always returns to. It was as though they had him on a tight lead...

That person was you, his spouse, the one he truly loved most.

All it took was your sweet words and touch to send him to his knees. It was almost amusing. He's a king, one meant to rule all the realms, and yet you're capable of making him dependent on you. Everything from your smile to your taste was enough to drive the king into addiction.

Aegon couldn't bear the thought of living without you, his precious spouse. In private. he clings to you like some neglected child. Perhaps that is due to him actually being neglected in his childhood.

With you, Aegon felt genuine love... genuine connection... and he'd never share it with another soul. You two were bound by marriage. Even though he knew you could never leave him, that you wouldn't, he still feared the thought.

You could read him like a book, the man was a mess when it came to you in private. Like now, you sat with him in your shared bed. The king held you close like he'd lose you if he didn't... who knows what the public would think if they saw him now.

"I love you..." He whispers softly, leaning in as you cup his face with a smile. Even if he goes off on hedonistic trips... you're still the only one who can make him feel vulnerable. He used to hate such a feeling... but now it feels... comforting.

"You are the reason I live." Aegon whispers the words in a desperate tone, leaning close and kissing your lips. The king huffs in annoyance when you pull away, a grin on your face. In response he cups your cheeks to kiss you again.

For the most part, your relationship was mutual. You originally did not enjoy being married to the king. He was a hedonistic brat, one who felt entitled to anything he wishes.

However... with time... you adapted to such a role...

Allowing you to make him crave you... and give you the control you yearned for.

"Can you... promise me something...?" Aegon whispers once pulling away, eyes glimmering in desire when he looks at you. You look at him and hold his chin.

"Yes, my husband?" You whisper in his ear, seeing the king shudder at your breath.

"I want you to submit yourself wholly and only to me." Aegon whispers, pulling you closer. "I want you to promise you won't run, to promise you won't abandon your king."

You can see desperation glint in his eyes. His gaze is dark, pondering the idea of you indeed leaving him. Despite this... you manage to distract him once again with a kiss on the forehead.

"Then I promise." You whisper back. You knew the dark desires your husband had. You knew he would level villages if it meant keeping you beside him. You liked that power... so you'd use the king regardless of if you loved him or not.

"Really?" He asks you, appearing to wonder if you genuinely loved him.

"Of course, Aegon." You answer, nuzzling yourself into his chest.

Aegon goes quiet for a moment, looking at you before smiling softly. The dark glint is still in his eyes but you knew that was just how he was. Aegon was always possessive of what was his.

"Good..." The king hums, flipping you so you are under him. "Because I will never let you leave me."

You merely nod and hold the king close, allowing him to melt into your arms. The idea of bringing a king to his knees makes you... pleased.

You liked the feeling of control... you both even got what you wanted...

He wanted you... and you wanted power.

what did i do? eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie doesn't know what he's done to make you upset, but he's on a mission to find out and gain back your favor.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst?? Some emotional scenes towards the end, but all the usual fluff!!

Requested here! Unedited, will go back at some point to do so but I really need to go to sleep right now. Update: now edited! let me know if i missed any errors :)

Eddie didn’t know what he had done wrong. You were being so distant, barely talking to him, barely talking to anyone, in fact. It seemed as though you were avoiding him in particular, though. Whenever he was about to approach you at your locker, you closed its door and rushed off to your next class. You never sat with him at lunch anymore. Poor Eddie had no idea what was going on, he just wanted to know what he had done and if you were okay. 

---

After school one day, he came home to find Wayne already home from work, just what he was hoping for. 

“Hey, uh… Wayne?” he asked his uncle tentatively. 

“Hm?” Wayne responded with a grunt. 

“I uh… I need to ask you for some advice." Wayne looked up, surprised. Eddie wasn’t exactly one to ask for help. 

“Sure thing, son. Whatcha need?”

“Uh… I think y/n is mad at me, and I want to do something for her to make up for it, but the problem is I have no idea what I did, so that creates a whole other issue, and-” Eddie stopped himself, realizing he was rambling. “Yeah.”

“Well, you could always bring her some flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“Yeah, flowers. You know, those pretty things that grow from the ground in all those different colors-”

“Yeah, Wayne, I know what a flower is, it's just… what kind?” Wayne contemplated this for a moment before answering, Eddie eagerly raising his eyebrows. 

“Red roses,” he said after a moment. “A classic.”

“Alright, thanks Wayne,” Eddie said, wanting to get out of the embarrassing situation as fast as possible. 

“Be careful, son, it looks like rain!” Wayne called out before Eddie slammed the door in his haste. 

Eddie drove his van to the flower shop, where a stout little woman seemed absolutely flabbergasted that someone like… well, like him would be entering her flower shop. 

“Hello, how may I help you today?” she asked, stepping out from behind the counter. 

 “Hi…” he looked at her name tag. “Suzanne. I uh- I’d like a dozen… shit, how many is a dozen?”

“Twelve?” Suzanne prompted. 

“Right. Sorry. The brain isn’t working today. Uh- twelve of your finest red roses, please.” The woman gave a small hum of recognition, turning to the flowers behind her with a smile. 

“So… who’s the lucky girl?” she asked. 

“Oh, uh…” Eddie wasn’t accustomed to small town small talk with strangers. Well, hell, he thought, what’re the chances I’ll ever see her again? “They’re actually for my girlfriend. She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met in like, my whole life. She’s perfect, she’s my everything. I don’t think I could live without her, if I’m being completely honest. I think I would go insane. The problem is, she’s really mad at me and I don’t know why, so I’m going to go apologize to her for whatever I did.”

“Well,” Suzanne said, bringing the roses back from wherever she got them from and putting them on the counter. “The best place to start would be to say all those wonderful things you said about her to her. Here, dear, why don’t you write them down so you don’t forget?” She paused on wrapping the bouquet delicately with tissue paper and a satin ribbon and handed Eddie a piece of paper and a pen. 

“Not likely…” Eddie mumbled, and chuckled. He would never forget how much he loved you. Suzanne helped him refine the points of what he wanted to say and fixed some of his grammar mistakes, but it was all fully and wholly Eddie. It was his words. He read it over one last time, admiring his handiwork. Quite the poet, he thought to himself. Suzanne ended up letting him have the flowers for free, and Eddie couldn’t thank her enough. 

“You’ll have to come back and tell me how it goes, dear!” Normally, Eddie wouldn’t have dreamed of doing such a thing, but he liked Suzanne, and was grateful for her help. He resolved to come back and tell her about it. “And be careful, it looks like rain!” 

And rain it did. But it didn’t just rain, it stormed. Fat raindrops peppered the windshield of Eddie’s van as he maneuvered around streets, trying to find the familiar street sign that marked the block you lived on. He was terrified, but with the flowers on the passenger seat next to him, buckled in, he told himself it would all work out. 

---

You were working on your homework and some extra credit work you had picked up during the week when the doorbell rang. Your dog, Teddy, started barking furiously, and you had to shush him a number of times before he actually kept quiet. Your parents were out of town, so you were the only one available to answer the ring. Trodding downstairs, you wondered, who would be visiting at this hour? And in this weather?

You opened the door to find… Eddie. He was standing on your doorstep, in the rain, a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. His clothes and entire body were soaked through with rain, his hair a wet mop. Once he saw you he cleared his throat and began to read, glancing down at the paper every few words. 

“Y/n,” he paused, looking up at you with those beautiful brown eyes you loved so much. Sometimes you just wanted to jump into them, see what he saw. “Y/n,” he said again, as if to remind himself it was you, and you were right there in front of him. “These…” he handed you the roses, leaving you with a confused look on your face. “... are for you. I don’t know what I did wrong or if you’ll be able to forgive me for whatever I did, but I just wanted to let you know that I love you more than anything else in this whole world. You’re my everything, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Shit, y/n, what did I do?” 

“Eds,” you said, setting the flowers down on the bench beside the door to cup his face in your hands. “You didn’t do anything, baby. I’ve been applying to colleges and writing my essays, I promise I haven’t been neglecting you on purpose. I’m sorry if I’ve been distant or uncommunicative, but it’s completely my fault, and certainly not because of anything you did. No need to get your panties in a twist.” You chuckled. 

“Shit, y/n.” Eddie dropped the paper in his hands and collapsed into a crouch on the ground, covering his face with his hands. You sat beside him, leaning your back on the doorframe. You reached out, stroking his arm, and before you knew it he was hugging you tightly, as if afraid you might evaporate at any moment. As if you might become a lone raindrop lost in the ocean, never able to find you again. 

“Hey, hey…” you said, stroking his back, his hair, his face. Lightly scratching his scalp the way you knew he liked it. You were shocked at the speech he had given, thinking back on it. It was so out of character for him to express such emotion. “Did you…” you paused. “Did you really mean everything you said?”

“Every word,” Eddie replied. Now you were crying.

“I didn’t think anyone could ever love me like that,” you said through racked sobs. 

“Oh, sweetheart, now you’ve got me crying again.”

You hugged each other tightly, tears falling down your cheeks every now and again, stroking each other’s hair, contemplating the love you felt for each other. Eddie was the first to break away. 

“Let’s get those flowers in some water, yeah? Don’t want them to die because we couldn’t keep our shit together.”

i hope you guys enjoyed!! thank you to my bestie izzy for requesting, i had a lot of fun writing this one.

<3

as always, asks are open! currently writing for eddie but if you have another specific request i might consider, so shoot your shot. :)

explain your silvervance playlist

let's get to it! this got very. very long. tumblr only allows 30 images per post so expect a part two :3

⭐1.) twin skeleton's (hotel in nyc) - fall out boy

the silvervance playlist kicks off with vance's post act 1 theme--the song that follows him out of the grave and into the next life with johnny in his head.

johnny's engram saved vance; kept his head together even if chunks of the merc's brain matter were slipping through his chrome fingers, in a manner of speaking.

when the relic saved vance's life, it marked him for death, too. jackie might've taken the bullet for him, but death is gonna find vance one way or another.

⭐2.) hysteria - muse

johnny resides within a new, uncooperative body, hates every second of it, and decides to make it vance's problem.

johnny himself has come back to life after 54 years of not-so-eternal death; didn't even know he was dead until he was walking upright again, until he was shocked back to consciousness. but it's not a real life--it's not even his to begin with.

⭐3.) come a little closer - cage the elephant

vance runs through johnny's memories; he gets to see night city's infamous rockerboy for who he really is, who he always has been: a liar, a faker, someone who claims to hate control but wants it, anyway. seeing his memories is as invasive as johnny seeing vance's--but johnny, surprisingly, says come take a look. see who've you've got in your head.

they're in this together, now. there's no going back.

⭐4.) infidel zombie - the dickies

with the theft of the relic and the revival of arasaka's public enemy #1, the megacorp is sending its best out to hunt them down.

after having escaped arasaka thus far, vance is on high alert. it doesn't help, either, that takemura--one of their best guard dogs--will only vow his service to vance as as long as they rescue hanako--the very face of arasaka itself.

⭐5-7.)

meanwhile, johnny and vance are still fighting over ownership of the latter's body. johnny wants one thing, vance wants another, and both of them hate this sense of dual autonomy. but little by little, they're becoming more alike.

my body is a cage - arcade fire / this body means nothing to me - shrimp / mark on you - the mountain goats

⭐8.) psychotic opera - small leaks sink ships

hellman gives them the low-down: vance isn't gonna make it with johnny still in his head. the best he can do is die comfortably.

but alt offers them a possible solution--find her where she resides in mikoshi, deep in the heart of the very tower vance had sworn he would never go back to, and she just might still be able to separate them.

this is the point of the playlist where vance realizes separation may be more painful than what would inevitably happen otherwise. he doesn't understand yet why he feels this way. only that johnny has been with him for some time now, enough time that being without him would feel...odd.

⭐9-10.)

they both have their own regrets about their respective lives, conjoined as they are now. they mourn for what could've, should've been. they mourn for what'll never happen--for the world, maybe, or maybe what'll never happen between them.

what was it johnny said? this is why you don't bring back fallen warriors: sooner or later, they're gonna see everything they fought for's turned to shit.

wish i knew you - the revivalists / all these things that i've done - the killers

⭐11.) granite - sleep token

but things aren't all that bad. vance falling in love with johnny was as inevitable as it was wholly consuming; he had never realized how lonely he had been until the ghost had come along. johnny is one of the only people in the city who understands what it's like to pass through it daily, to never feel your feet on the pavement, to just keep going.

even if the alt cunningham (or an engram of her), has offered them a solution herself, a very small part of vance is afraid it won't work. this is arasaka they're talking about; they'd need a miracle to undo the damage the megacorp has done.

he is afraid of dying.

but if that is how he can be with johnny--

--then he'll take it, even if it's in death.

✨12.) ordinary love (extraordinary remix) - U2

THIS. THIS IS IT. this is THE silvervance theme song. you'll recognize these lyrics as being the title of their fic series. ordinary love is just. it's the song that illustrates how much love johnny and vance have for each other.

vance doesn't want johnny out. he wants both of them to get their lives back--to live the life that was taken from them, together.

⭐13-15.)

in my head, these songs are intercut with various missions. they take place, chronologically, after my fic poltergeist (ie, vance and johnny have established the rocky foundations for their relationship). i think the lyrics speak for themselves.

rain - sleep token / slowly spilling out - saint motel / chokehold - sleep token

part 2 here

Something we don’t talk enough about is the fact that the folklaw of the paopu fruit isn’t inherently romantic (And before I go any further I want to make clear that this is not trying to discredit ships or claim kairi and sora are not in love. You ship what you ship and I’ll ship what I ship and never the two shall interfere.).

The fact of the matter is, that what we hear about the folk law of the fruit is this:

“If two people share one, their destinies become intertwined. They’ll remain a part of each others lives no matter what.” - Riku, KH1

NOW! I am aware that within the context of the scene rRku is teasing sora over his crush on Kairi - anyone with eyes could see that. However, despite the obvious romantic ideal of having a shared destiny, it is not a wholly romance based idea.

You could share the fruit with just about anyone you knew if you wanted to be in their lives forever. Say, a best friend or a family member, or a particularly precious family pet.

Anyone you wanted to stay with, you could share one with.

Which raises a question about this mystical fruit. Is it’s sharing symbolic in KH law or is Namora really out here basing the entirety of sora’s connection to his friends on the basis of -what essentially boils down to- a magical star shaped mango?

The way I see it is that Sora’s intention to share the Paopu with Kairi can absolutely be read as romantic. The narrative clues are there, we can see them. However, arguably Sora has just as much reason to share the paopu with all of his friends as he does with her.

His fate is so intrinsically intertwined with that of ventus, Roxas and Xion, That he could share one with them. He has deep connections with Donald and Goofy, that he holds incredibly dear to him. After all his friends are his power, his strength to carry on. So he could share one with them.

He spent so long looking for, finding, loosing, and looking all over again for Riku, that he has every reason to share one with his best friend, even if it simply means never loosing sight of him again.

Sora’s motivations to share one with kairi may stem from romance, but that doesn’t make the law of the fruit specifically romantic.

In a way the paopu fruit is a bit like a pinky swear. It’s a promise to never loose sight of the other person and to share their destiny with the other person.

Perhaps the magic goes simply as deep as the intention of sharing one or the visualisation. Perhaps in simply handing a person the fruit with the intent to share is enough to bind one another.

The only three people that we ever see holding the fruit are Kairi, Sora and Riku. Perhaps that is where the bond starts.

In KH 1 Riku throws the fruit to Sora, who catches it. That is, in itself an act of sharing. In the cave sora draws himself feeding kairi and she then draws herself feeding him. That is an intent to share.

Therefore, by this logic, Sora is inextricably linked to both of them. Because they, all three, passed the fruit/ visualised passing the fruit to another.

And I can hear you say, ah yes, but flo, Riku and Kairi never shared a paopu in any capacity. And, dear reader you’d be right. However, they both shared one in different capacities with Sora, and thus are both linked to him, and by extension each other.

Now, Riku and Kairi are a odd little conundrum that has often bothered me. They are friends, they obviously care for one and other. And in KH1 it’s clear that there’s a little bit of show boating going on between the boys as to who can impress Kairi more.

Its something Naminé plays on in CoM, and it’s obvious that at one point or another, Riku’s priorities were the same as Sora’s. Protect Kairi. Yet, there is an extremely noticeable point at which that changes.

That place being Rikus journey in CoM. It is here that Riku shifts his focus from protecting Kairi to protecting Sora.

There are many reasons and possible theories for this. If your are on this app as frequently as I think you are then you probably know about most of them. So I’m not going to delve too deep into that one.

The point remains though, that Kairi and Riku’s destinies both diverge/ and converge at the same time. On the one hand, they diverge as Riku moves his focus from protecting her and making up for his actions as Ansam’s puppet; while simultaneously converging on one single fixed point that is their only meaningful connection to each other for the entire story.

Sora.

He is what binds them together, he is their destiny and he is what intertwined their destiny’s with each other.

Sora -as mushy as it sounds- is their star shaped fruit. They chose to share the paopu with him and thus inadvertently shared him between them. They both hold a piece of his destiny and his heart. Regardless of what you ship that can’t be denied.

Because the folk law of the paopu fruit is not an inherently romantic.

No because Tim being catatonic while pregnant reminds me of a fic I read about Dick being Talon and kidnapping a sleeping beauty!Tim and getting him pregnant and the author implying that Tim only wakes up when he gives birth because of the pain of childbirth. Now imagine that with red kryptonite Tim being completely catatonic until he is giving birth (maybe to twins) and screaming because he has no recollection of what happened to him beyond vague awareness of his time in captivity. Maybe holding on to Dick while he gives birth crying that he doesn’t understand because Dick had tried to protect him before and so would be his go to person. If Bruce is out would he even be allowed to interact with the babies? Or would it be like a Jason relationship in one of your past works? Because I could see Bruce trying to manipulate a vulnerable Tim who is dealing with his rape trauma and suden motherhood. Like how furious would the family be seeing Bruce trying to manipulate Tim when they find out. Lmao this is how you know I love Tim I like it when my favorite character are broken down

i know that fic!!! it took a bit of the day to track down because i know i read it!! i'm almost certain it's this one.

but yes i love that idea!!! i've been knocking around the sleeping beauty idea around too but they were only ever vague ideas but the one thing i really liked is your mention of twins because in the original sleeping beauty she did give birth to twins (and they were her father's children too bc he took advantage of his daughter while she was like that so that too fits so well).

for the red kryptonite au what i think occurs afterward depends almost entirely on bruce. now bruce here isn't so much 'evil' so much as he is a man that is mostly a slave to his desires. he's felt an attraction to tim for years. part of him shoved it down deep and hid it behind mostly hostile treatment so that he didn't have to acknowledge he felt this way- not only because it was inappropriate and went against everything he fought but also because it was unexplored territory and bruce doesn't like things he can't control. and what he couldn't control was how strong his attraction to tim was. but now bruce is in a unique situaiton.

his attraction is known and acknowledged, he's already acted on it in the worst way possible but also in a way where he does not carry any of the blame. no logical person could truly blame him because if he'd been himself he would've never acted on those feelings. YES he felt them and that was wrong, he knew that was wrong that's why he never did anything about them.

bruce knows how good it feels, knows he wants to feel it again but knows that his every move will be watched now because people are under no illusions about him and his continuing desire now.

add to the fact that tim is pregnant now. with his child. an opportunity that bruce has never had before and bruce has an incredibly strong devotion to family (his parents are prime examples of this). and while he may not recognize this or choose to ignore it, it's also opportunity a way to control tim from a distance because now they share something, something that ties them together.

even though he's pregnant and they know it was under horrible circumstances i don't think the family would elect to have an abortion performed on tim while he's catatonic because 1. tim's already had his bodily autonomy violated and while it pains them to let it proceed they kind of have to. 2. tim is not utterly incapable of making decisions nor is his catatonic state likely permanent so they can't make medical decisions for him. if he was in a coma? if he'd been left with damage to his brain enough that he could no longer make decisions regarding his health?

they just have to wait and hope that tim pulls through before the babies arrive.

bruce having both an obligation and duty to take responsibility for his actions (despite them not being wholly his own) are what essentially push tim into a space with him even if bruce isn't physically present.

tim's feeling on the other hand- he feels betrayed. he knows that bruce wasn't behind those actions but he also can't ignore how he was made to endure those events as a result of bruce's genuine feelings. if bruce wasn't...attracted to him in the first place none of this would've happened.

but them tim feels guilty for thinking that because it's not like it was obvious to him or anyone that bruce was harboring this secret. (but that's not true. not really because everyone knew bruce treated tim differently only now they know the reason behind it).

tim feels frustrated, lonely, agitated, and hurt because he feels like he is to blame for all of this (even though it's not true and dick or anyone would tell him that as well).

tim waking up out his fugue during childbirth would be traumatizing because he's hit with the overwhelming weight of everything all at once and now he's responsible for children he didn't ask for and who also didn't ask to be here. so tim is sort of..distant from them.

when he pulls himself together, enough to try and go see them he realizes that everyone else also feels awkward with the babies. they don't blame them necessarily and they don't hate them. but it's hard to ignore their origins.

come to find out bruce has been taking care of the babies this entire time. feeding them, washing them, changing them, playing with them, reading to them and tim just...

breaks down a little more because he's been unable to shake the bad thoughts about bruce but yet here he was taking care of tim's kids when he couldn't and...

tim's mind broken a little. there's little cracks in him and bruce...bruce isn't the greatest person in the world and he can see that maybe..just maybe he can make this easier on them both.

tim clearly needs support, he needs help and normally bruce wouldn't be the best option but no one else is really present to prevent it given they're trying to avoid his and tim's babies.

so bruce gets him. he gets him by showing him how to rock their children, how to hold them, how to kiss their full cheeks. how to love these beautfiul little things that they made together, created together.

tim latches onto bruce to keep his head above water, to teach him how to love these babies. and bruce does. and they grow closer and tim is maybe growing far too dependent on bruce given the circumstnaces.

and maybe eventually tim starts coming to bruce for company when he can't sleep. and they start talking and leaning on each other and bruce gets tim used to his touch, his hands, the sound of his voice.

and when they fuck again it's after three days of no sleep because both their children have colic and two people are just not enough.

they're echausted, they're drowsy. they can't fall asleep. bruce is going to go to the bathroom because jacking off sometimes help but tim doesn't want him to because bruce is so warm and its helping him relax and so to kepe him close tim just...parts his legs. lets his robe slip open grabs bruce's cock to line it up with his seam. tim has hardly touched himself, can't remember the last time he masturbated and as bruce fucks deep strokes into him tim can't even find himself to care about how wrong he should feel this is.

tim's already been fucked by his father so what did it matter. he was a person who got fucked by their dad and the whole family and some of the league knew it. but tim got to keep warm, bruce's thrusts rocked him to sleep and as hot cum filled him all he did was wiggle closer and murmur something about it being warm.

ahhhhhhhh

AHHHHH

the new chapter made me want to cry....... okay, maybe it's partly because of my state of mind which is partly my fault But. that doesn't change that so

(sequence of events: stressing about today yesterday -> idiot who didn't sleep until 5am because of being an idiot [me: i'll fix my sleep habits and sleep earlier. no more 1am bedtime. also me: *finally sleeps at 5am instead* me: no that wasn't supposed to happen, why- something is clearly wrong with this picture-] -> super busy morning. slightly stressful afternoon. thankfully didn't feel tired the whole day [how] though?? small mercies, small mercies -> finally get time to relax now that it's the evening and- *sees new chapter* oh my word the Happy Time is here *immediately drops all other thoughts and actions to Read*)

that was very emotional and. and also. i am an emotional person im a very simple person i feel Feels so hard when it comes to things such as this. (10/10 in every way and thank you- that could've been any day but it was a wonderful thing to come back to after being stressed and finally getting a chance to calm down a bit) so :D

so again always thank you for the wonderful fic stuff <3 i swear i owe so much in terms of mood and productivity to your and your fics rn and i wholly appreciate it. i will be getting strength from these fics for- idk, probably years to come???? once i latch on i refuse to let go. its the least i can do

now if you'll excuse me i now have to get back to using all my braincells on trying to do art things bc it will never feel like enough unless i do as much as is physically or probably more in this case, mentally possible. im also currently playing the fun guessing game of which of these will be my last anon before i finish these things and Yell. it is impossible for me to guess but i try to guess it anyway (funny how at first i was like mayyybe i can summon the courage to send one, maybe two anons. do art stuff. gently nudge it over here when it's done- and then somehow just started coming in here regularly in the meanwhile)

here let me give you a flower to somewhat make up for the rambly rambly shenanigans of myself when it comes to writing these 🌼 may you be having a good very nice lovely day :]

i'm glad last chapter was able to bring you comfort

❝ my way is the only way and you know it.❞ ( yet again i apologise in advance to nina )

you (season 4) starters | always accepting!

In what ways can the mind reject one’s soul? Especially when the soul completely overrides the neutral functions of the mind and body, rendering it to a shell full of cracks and holes that may never be filled. When the soul doesn’t understand this supposed kindness and love, seeing the mangled exterior as an opportunity for mending in its own image. Can one truly reject this force of an emotion? Often times Nina tries in vain, merely enabling issues like swimming in the middle of a whirlpool without proper motor skills, flailing helpless until she surfaces violently. Her heart encapsulates itself in a box of fire, lungs filling to the brim, muscles clenching all with the fear of another's existence in that swirling water. She waits patiently through the aches since lack of resistance makes it easier for the cause of such phenomena to pluck her from misery. Only to fall right back into a much deeper current.

She runs her nails over the metal in her purse. The blade of her newly delivered self defense strategy warmed by it's encloser. Her other hand grips the handles of her bag, standing in wait. Nina doesn't dare trust the empty space between them or behind, training her focus to pinpoint directedly in front where the monster lie in wait. There wasn't much else she could do when regarding her brother's penchant for readily available aid in his attempts to reunited them. It had gone stale eventually, dubbing the letters and subtle nods in broad daylight his knew approach to forming a relationship she doesn't wholly consent to. On some level there was understanding, possibly longing for the two to come to an agreement on safe boundaries that involved their love and well being for each other, allowing them both to blossom in their own right. Recently, Nina began to dread her formative years.

We were kids then, unfortunately. It was way too late.

"Do you know what I felt the day my final parents were murdered?" Nina spits in a low voice. She didn't want the commotion to extend further out into the neighbor knowing very well how he may react to an audience. Or rather, how lacking they would be in the coming days after. There's no telling he may be able to conceptualize grief and the loss of loved ones, yet she grew tired of discerning whether his knowledge of empathy came from his cognition or hers. Stolen. "I can't trust you enough to tell... I don't want you taking them from me this time." She takes a step back, pressing her lips in a thin line. She grips the handle of the knife momentarily, but lets go upon summoning the strength to walk forward.

Footfalls are accompanied by an echo rather loudly in the night. The face she'd seen only in mirrors and recently a photograph she keeps close shown under the streetlights on the pavement of her emptied home. Not that he would have to know about the picture, assuming he didn't already. She wonders what kind of expression he sees that makes him smile so much. Strange how inconceivable his ideas for the world are, shrouded in sordid nihilism while hers mirrored the opposite. The only explanation to why she sees him and doesn't have the urge to end his life, thus both of their suffering. This can't be a hopeful occasion if she feels a wetness on her cheeks pooling just below her chin.

"I know whatever you want is bound to happen in some form or another. You're really touched by some devil, but I'm not going to let your poison spread to those undeserving." Nina says sharply. "And if your way is spreading your lackies through Germany on sprees, you may have succeeded but I will not participate."

So, I have something to say about the All For The Game Series. I see a lot of people that say it's horrible but they still love it and some people say it has misrepresented certain triggering subjects in the story for how the author has written and used it. And some people literally just hate it and never read the series.

That's all fine and all, but in reality when it comes to triggering topics, (especially for people that have suffered through said things), not every reacts or copes the same way - everyone is different, and because of that who can say with absolute certainty, that's its wholly and completely misrepresented? Some are people don't have the conventional or generalized reactions or actions because of trauma.

And some moments in the series are a little off putting, like how Nicky acts toward Neil in the beginning and how they 'seem' to downplay and 'joke' about certain triggering topics' but I don't believe that. Let's just say thought that, every character in the series is messed up and traumatized in so many different ways ( and assholes on point and how they act (they are fictional characters), none are the same. They story is made real in some shape/form, but only left to the mind and imagination. But for some artist, and stories, some bear truth in them and the authors carries that.

They characters can be pretty foul and rude, or terrible in ways, but that's because they are very flawed characters. I can agree with what some people say but I've read far worse writing that would be considered amateurish.

(Some people tend to judge fictional stories and compare them to reality and how people truly deal with such things, but again, it's never the same and no one person is the same. )

Let's not forget, people may judge books that they read based on others they may have read before then and liked it. No author writes the same way, whether the readers like what they have written or not.

And if your one that doesn't like them, don't read them. I'm even butchering what I want to say even as I speak, because there's so much and it's hard to explain in a proper way.

Sometimes there's more said beneath the surface of the words we read, or when things or not said. (Kinda like reading between the lines.) I don't believe the authors intention was to make such triggering things seem like they are joked about in the novel or made trivial and maybe not even remotely or 100% factual ( it's a fictional story) and Andrew isn't actually psychotic like he's made out to be and Monstrosized.

And Nicky in the beginning, he should not have come onto Neil or even kissed ( without consent) and drugged him (As Andrew planned, which he shouldn't have). There's a lot wrong with the series, yes, that's blatantly obvious all readers and true haters that don't like it at all.

And if it's too triggering, that's why you research the book and check out tags if there are any. The series is not for everyone.

For those that love the story and hate it just as much for how 'wrong' it is, and say they wouldn't recommend it to anyone. Okay, cool.

But I would. IDGAF. There's worse, darker and messed up stories that a lot of people read out there that others consider bad, and some would consider this mild. Some really like angst and drama and so on. The story is not the best or greatest one out there (it is to me, in its own way) and rated terribly by readers that seem to have mixed feelings or just hate it but its not the worst.

I have books where I feel that way, not gonna lie, and when it really triggers me enough to make me mad or irritate me, then I drop it or push through and just find something nicer to read.

I wouldn't recommend AFTG series to just any reader but those I know that might actually read it and like it or at least like the characters, possibly. The characters are not perfect and their reactions and actions in the story might not be realistic but I'm still all for Andreil.

Also, some people might or could possibly have slight reactions that may share some slight similarities, no one really knows, and you can't compare someones pain and trauma to other or how they may react or cope. Yeah there is PTSD or other things but once more, no guarantees they have same reactions or coping mechanism, you can't confine a person to a box inside your mind,

This is really just a ramble of my opinion, and possibly makes no sense, I'm writing this after work, and my minds scrambles from the day. Love it, hate it, read it or don't read it. At the end of the day, the story, the characters are just that, not real and made from a fictional story. You can may analogies, and complain and swear it's the worst or the opposite and gush and swear it's 'great'. That's up to each individual reader.

It's still just a story and there are many more, other characters you can like and get attached to and even write fanfics or draw fanart.

Try reading a story where a woman gets kidnapped and trafficked and beaten and tortured and sold and ends up with a man who has some serious darkness haunting him, 'demons' because of his childhood trauma, though he tries to save women like her when they've been forced into being slaves, but they're normally 'broken' by the time he buys them to set them free and get them home but MC female was the heroine and a fighter (and this series has some serious bdsm play at times) and...just...ugh. I can't 😩. That series was rough. I pushed through because I started it reading it. I read this so long ago, I don't even remember any details except what I've said.

I've reread AFTG series a few times already, but that other series I never reread it. But yeah that's all I have to say lol

Men’s muscles

Shirtless

Sleeping

Breathing- contracting and relaxing

I’m touching you, so soft & smooth

Your back is immaculate

My lips find yours & it’s fevered

Only realizing when I pull away and you slip your hand under my shirt moaning

We both look at each other as if a gasp

with wide eyes

Frozen in time

Like a single breathe being exhaled together

At the same pace wholly

As if the oxygen left the room and all the breeze in it too

Feeling the opposite of winded

But like thee energy went from sprinting

To a full stop,

Let’s not talk ..it won’t be what either of us want

I was fine having just this memory

You to only see me that way,

Honestly I feel that is why I will kiss a stranger, because it hasn’t ever caused me to be upset at the idea that we never speak again

I think I believe ill never see them again either way, so why not get something that makes me believe in something,

Now is no different, idk how but I’ve accidentally shown him more love than I carry

I won’t fall for them

I know my patterns

& I know they are not the one for me

But the,

Maybe? Could be? We’ll see? Feelings

That can get me taking every great experience

Every beautifully passing moment and

Want it to be as possibly big as it may be,

And usually that ends badly for me

When it’s never something

I usually NEED to be anything

Not nothing but,

It’s simple.

Sometimes it’s enough for me noticing a person I find attractive is noticing me.

That can be enough for me,

I have to remember every story is different with every person you see.

· I Don't Go In For Sweets ·

Request: by a lovely anon "set after the events of season 3. Tommy can't handle the company, he's still grieving and he has to be there for Charlie so Polly tells him she knows a girl from a good family to get married He ends up agreeing (aunt Pol can be very persuasive) but even though he's married, this new girl isn't considered as a wife. He doesn't really make any effort but his "wife" understands, he's a widowed father who lost his first wife only a year ago. However since they are...in this, she wants to make her time as enjoyable as possible for the both of them and for Charlie too. But no matter what Tommy makes it a point of honor to not let her in, to not let her replace Grace so he ignores her, he works more, tries to spend as little as possible in the house. Reader stays patient, it will be alright and Charlie is making her quite busy anyway. One night, Tommy comes home completely drunk and maybe a bit high too, he can't even make it to his office. Thankfully Reader is still awake, she takes care of him and Tommy just...melts at how gentle Reader is, he may be able to keep his distant while sober but it's much harder in his state. He admits to her how he's been feeling and all. Ever since that night, something changed, Tommy feels some comfort, some solace being around her, she accepts him wholly, even his flaws, the bad side of his business and she tries to provide some sort of safe place for when it gets too hard." (I edited the request because it was very long, but I kept all essential parts in there)

Author’s note: I loved loved loved writing this and it ended up being SUPER long, but I’m very happy with how it turned out. As always, I hope you like it and have the loveliest of days!

Warnings: season 3 SPOILERS sort of, but not really, still read at your own risk. Arranged marriage, mentions of alcohol and drugs, angst.

·

“Thomas, you may not be able to see it, but you’re breaking apart” Polly spoke with a sigh as she lit a cigarette after everyone was dismissed from a family meeting.

Everyone had left Tommy’s office in arrow house rather gaily after receiving their fair compensations for partaking in the whole Russian ordeal, all except Polly, who remained where she sat, wishing for a word with her nephew

Tommy merely scoffed at her concern before lighting his own cigarette and taking a puff “I’ll be alright”

“And Charlie?” Pol pressed knowing Tommy’s mourning was not only affecting him, but Charlie as well. “What about him?”

“He’s fine” He said before turning around to look through the window, ignoring his Aunt’s heavy stare.

“You take too much after your mother” she sighed half angry half sad “she too loved pretending everything was alright and I don’t need to remind you where that lead her”

Tommy sighed deeply, he knew he could fool anyone. Anyone but Polly. “We’ll manage”

“Consider my offer” Polly said standing up and making her way to the door “Y/n is a good girl from a good family” she persuaded before leaving the room.

Tommy sighed at his Aunt’s words, he wasn’t ready to get married again even when he knew the woman he would be marrying was a nice one. He felt like he was spitting on Grace’s grave and he hated himself for even considering the prospect, but he knew a mother figure would be good for Charlie.

He spent the rest of the day pondering about Polly’s suggestion and remembering his own childhood in the shadow of the absent tortured presence that his mother had been. It didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t want that for Charlie, so that same night he phoned Polly.

“I’ll do it” was all he said before hanging up. There was no need for more words, Polly would know exactly what he meant.

Exactly a week later, Tom was standing in the altar of a church that was significantly smaller than the one from his first wedding. The fact that everything about this wedding was so obscenely different from his first did soothe his guilt a bit. And as he stood there he couldn’t keep his mind from traveling to the days leading up to his wedding to Grace. She had made sure everything was perfect and had made an effort to invite every single relative she could think of. She remembered her rambling on an on about fabrics, insisting that everything ought to be perfect when he in all honestly couldn’t care less, he just wanted to marry her.

All his thoughts vanished away with a poof when Y/n came into sight. And what a sight she was. She had insisted on doing her own makeup and on pinning flowers to her hair to compliment her headpiece and her elegant, yet simple white dress flowed almost mystically as her father gave her away. She had never imagined she would be marrying someone she didn’t know, but she wanted to look her best for getting married is not something people do everyday.

When she stood in the altar, she offered her to be husband a smile which he did not return, instead turning his attention to the priest before them. She mirrored his actions, her heart beating violently under her chest as the priest began speaking.

It all felt like a blur, she could swear it had only been a second since her father had given her away and yet, the priest had already uttered the dreaded “you may now kiss the bride”

Tommy barely brushed his lips against hers and soon the sound of everyone clapping invaded her ears. They had a small party afterwards in Y/n’s former house. Her parents had invited pretty much all of their acquaintances while tommy had only invited his close relatives.

When night fell Tommy was more than ready to leave “Are you ready to go?” was one of the few sentences he uttered to his now wife that night.

She again offered him a smile before saying “yeah just let me say goodbye”

The drive to arrow house was tense, although Y/n didn’t know Thomas very well she would tell he was unhappy. She wondered about what to say to him, but couldn’t come up with anything good enough and soon enough they were pulling over in front of Tommy’s stately home.

“Charlie must already be asleep, but I'll introduce you tomorrow” he said opening Y/n’s door for her.

“It’s alright” she said looking at him, not quite knowing what to do next.

“Your parents sent some of your belongings, I've already asked the maids to take them up to your-our room” he said

“Thank you, Thomas” she smiled as she walked into the big house not yet feeling close enough to him to call him Tommy.

His name falling from her lips caused an echo of bittersweet emotions to stir inside him but he masked it perfectly well as she introduced Y/n to the maids that went to the door to take their coats.

“Frances here will show you the way to the room” he said after having made introductions.

“This way, Mrs” Frances politely said.

Y/n began following her but stopped when she didn’t hear Tommy’s footsteps behind her own.

“Are you not coming?” she asked turning to look at him.

“Maybe in a bit” was all he said before he walked away down one of the many spacious hallways of the house.

After Y/n made herself comfortable in the room and changed into her nightgown she took the time to peek around the room like one always does when one is a strange place. After familiarizing herself with it she laid down in the big bed. She was nervous, she knew what happened on wedding nights. A small chuckle stopped at her lips when she recalled the stories her close already married girlfriends told her. If she hadn’t married a complete stranger she too would be looking forward to it.

Her thoughts ended up luring her to sleep after a while despite her nerves and the night went by in a ridiculously fast flash. The next morning she woke up alone and after getting ready she made her way downstairs. Tommy and Charlie were already in the dining room when she entered it.

“good morning” she said

Charlie immediately turned his attention to her, his eyes widening while his dad merely glanced at her while he muttered a “Good morning “ of his own.

Y/n sat down next to Tommy while he cleared his throat “charles, this is Y/n. We got married yesterday so she’ll be living with us from now on”

Charlie merely nodded in understanding before playing around with his food.

A tense air flooded breakfast until Tommy stood up, having barely touched his food and spoke turning to look at Y/n “I have to go now, if you need anything feel free to ask Frances”

“Alright” Y/n replied feeling a bit disappointed, she would love to get to know him, but she already knew it was going to be difficult.

“I have to go too” Charlie announced in a timid voice, interrupting Y/n’s thoughts. Despite her disappointment she understood, maybe he was just shy and his dad just reticent. They had lost a wife and a mother after all.

The first few days after that, Charlie avoided her nearly as much as his father did and Y/n remained in lonely patience until one night Charlie’s cries interrupted her focus on the book that she had just bought. She rushed to his room and called out his name as she entered not knowing if the boy would be comfortable with her or not.

“What is it?” she asked worried as she knelt by his bed.

“I miss my mum” the boy confessed looking at her with teary eyes as he clutched his blanket.

Y/n felt her heart give a small ache at his confession and in an attempt to comfort him she spoke “She’s not really gone, you know?”

“She’s dead” the boy sobbed.

“but people who die, don’t leave us. Not really anyhow” she said hesitantly rubbing his arm. “just because we cant see them doesn’t mean they are not here”

“I miss seeing her” he continued.

“Oh but you can still see her”

“how”

“before you go to bed just think about her, then she’ll visit you in your dreams” Y/n spoke as if she was telling a fairy tale.

“really?” the boy’s eyes widened.

“really” Y/n confirmed “But you have to think really really hard”

“I’ll try” Charlie said having calmed down a bit.

“very well” Y/n said as she stood up, but Charlie’s voice stopped her.

“can you stay till I fall asleep?”

After that night, Charlie hardly left Y/n’s side and she felt much better with his company for she was sure if he wasn’t there keeping her on her toes all day she would fall into a depressive chasm induced by her husband’s absence.

On the rare moments he was home she tried to strike up conversation with him over breakfast or late at night when he came home and she was burdened by insomnia. But Tommy only humored her with a few short responses before excusing himself or turning to face the other side of the bed.

It wasn’t only the fact that he avoided her as much as he could, but he also made it a priority to exclude her at all times. She was never invited into family meetings or night’s at The Garrison so she thought it was a miracle when tommy didn’t oppose to her planning Charlie’s birthday party.

She invited only Tommy’s family which instantly warmed up to her, noticing what a good influence she was and Polly wanted to slap Thomas for the way he had been acting throughout his marriage to Y/n. Almost feeling guilty for getting her into this mess.

When the party ended Tommy shut himself in his office like he often did when he was at home and though he had never given Y/n a reason to believe she was welcome in there of all places, she found herself allowing herself in after putting Charlie to bed.

Tommy looked up as she entered and let out a sigh before turning his attention back to some papers he had been reading.

“I noticed you didn’t have any” she commented not letting his sigh deflate her as she laid a plate with a slice of homemade chocolate cake on his desk. “it’s really good if I may say so myself” she mused sitting down in a chair opposite to his as she dug in with a fork in her own slice.

“I don’t go in for sweets” he stated.

“Not even chocolate?” Y/n tried, but tommy didn’t answer, instead he just shook his head.

“I still think you should try it, it’s not overly sweet, and…”

“is there anything you need?” he interrupted bluntly a bit harsher than he would’ve liked.

His tone caught her off guard and when she couldn’t come up with an answer tommy again turned his attention back to his papers.

“I wish you could let me in” She softly confessed after a few tense seconds.

“Well I wish we hadn’t married but I guess things don’t always go the way we want them to go”

Tommy knew he had crossed a line by the silence that again settled into the room. He looked up at Y/n with her parted lips and misty eyes. They exchanged glances for a second but instead of allowing him to see her like that any longer, she stood up setting her plate on his desk and walked away, only allowing a few tears to drop by when she was out of the room and his sight.

After that she stopped trying to get closer to him. He still loved his late wife and she understood, people in grief never mean what they say after all, but his words stung nonetheless.

She stopped trying to wait for him at night to see if he had gotten home alright and during breakfast she only uttered polite good mornings.

One night however, Y/n was yanked out of a peaceful sleep by a loud crash. She was on her feet in no time and after checking into Charlie’s room to see if he was alright she cautiously ventured downstairs. A few incoherent mumbles filled her ears before her husband came into sight, fumbling with his coat to get it off.

“need help?” she asked earning his attention.

“I’m fine” he said finally taking it off but as he went to take a step to begin walking the floor under him moved and he lost his balance, his knees crashing loudly against the wooden floor.

Y/n offered him a hand and helped him up. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands were shaky, consequence of the snow, no doubt. “let’s get you upstairs”

“I can do it on me own” he slurred letting go of her hand.

“stop being so stubborn” she derided, snaking one of her arms around his waist as she helped him upstairs.

Y/n helped him into bed, tookoff his shoes and went to the bathroom to fetch a small towel and some cold water.

She dampened the towel with the cold water before dabing it gently on Tommy’s forehead. His eyes never leaving her face as she did so, making her grow a bit nervous. She continued, trying her best to ignore it until she felt his hand softly caressing her cheek.

“You are beautiful” he rasped.

“Stop it, Thomas” she said feeling her cheeks grow red when she felt a bit sad that he had to be completely drunk to compliment her.

Even in his drunken state he seemed to notice he was making her uncomfortable so he held his tongue until Y/n laid in bed next to him after turning on the lights.

“I’m sorry” he interrupted the silence “For the way I’ve been acting” the whiskey and cocaine making him more vulnerable and open “I guess I was afraid that if I let you in then she would disappear”

He didn’t expect her to answer, but then her voice came in a soft exhausted tone“ I don’t intend to replace her. You don’t need to act all defensive and secretive. Even if it’s not what you wanted, we are married.”

“I Know” was all he said.

Y/n expected him to withdraw more from her after showing himself that vulnerable to her that night but she was wrong. He began arriving home earlier, sometimes even asking if he could come along on the walks she and Charlie so much adored going on. And Y/n finally felt her marriage was going somewhere maybe it wasn’t based on love yet, but it was something.

One day she was at the stables while Charlie was taking a nap. She had always adored horses.

“I didn’t know you liked horses” came Tommy’s smooth voice causing her to jump.

“You never asked” she smiled petting a black horse as he walked closer to her.

“We could go out for a ride, I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind letting you borrow his horse” Tommy offered as he too began to pet the horse, his fingers brushing against Y/n’s for a brief second.

“I’d love to, but I am afraid I don’t know how to ride, Tommy” she said, panicking for a second after having called him that. But she rested assured as soon as he spoke again.

“Well that can be fixed” he said opening the door of the stall and guiding the horse outside.

“You mean now?” Y/n asked with a laugh.

“Got something better to do?” he asked walking out of the stable with the horse. Y/n observed tommy as he prepared the horse. She had never seen him so gentle and calm before and she only realized she had been staring when Tommy directed his attention to her to ask her if she was ready.

“I think so” she said going to stand next to the horse wondering how the hell to climb up. But before she had any more time to think she felt Tommy’s hands on her waist giving her a push that allowed her to pull herself up on the animal. It was a good thing she had chosen to wear slacks that day, she thought.

“Goodness this is high” she said nervously looking down at Tommy when he began guiding the horse to move in a slow walk.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall” he promised repressing a mirthful tone at her nervousness.

He guided the horse with her around the property in the crisp evening air and Y/n allowed herself to relax with every step the horse took. Tommy’s presence made her feel safe and protected and she found it increasingly harder to look away from his figure. She wondered if he could feel her eyes on him.

When the sky began turning soft shades of purple and orange the pair returned to the stables. When the time came from Y/n to come down from the horse, tommy helped her again. Y/n began to love the feeling of him touching her and when her feet touched the ground in front of Thomas, he didn’t remove his hands from her waist right away and instead fixed his blue eyes on her, not wanting to stop looking at her.

She too fixed her eyes on Tommy as she felt a silent gasp in the base of her throat. That was the way she would’ve liked him to look at her on their wedding day. Tommy then leaned in, almost as if he were asking for permission before he tenderly pressed his lips to Y/n’s.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @slytherinicequeen @lilymurphy03

misc poetry sentence starters

❝  one gets so used to one’s own horrors, one forgets how they must seem to other people.  ❞ ❝  you remind me what love lives in this skin.  ❞ ❝  you are the most phantom-like of all; you are a mere dream.  ❞ ❝  i’m not telling you a story so much as a shipwreck—the places floating, finally legible.  ❞ ❝  the world was made so we can find each other in it.  ❞ ❝  the night isn’t dark; the world is dark. stay with me a little longer.  ❞ ❝  i want you desperately. i want your strength and your softness, your hands, all of you.  ❞ ❝  is that too much to expect? that i would name the stars for you?  ❞ ❝  against your cheek my hand is warm and full of tenderness.  ❞ ❝  the world grows green again when you smile.  ❞ ❝  your share of pains would fill a sea.  ❞ ❝  i’m so stuck on the ‘was’ of people.  ❞ ❝  what i love in you is your power of loving, a bit wild, a bit primitive, but absolute.  ❞ ❝  i like figuring you out. you are so human and puzzling.  ❞ ❝  the unwillingness to try is worse than any failure.  ❞ ❝  you wanted happiness. i can’t blame you for that.  ❞ ❝  i did violence to my own heart.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth.  ❞ ❝  like a magpie, i am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales and dead languages.  ❞ ❝  and here you come with a shield for a heart and a sword for a tongue.  ❞ ❝  you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry.    only the sun has come this close, only the sun.  ❞ ❝  sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof you’ve been ruined.  ❞ ❝  when will it cease, this monstrous rage of yours?  ❞ ❝  i will plant my hands in the garden. i will grow, i know, i know.  ❞ ❝  i had it all and i want it back again.  ❞ ❝  i don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.  ❞ ❝  we are two reflections that cross swords with each other.  ❞ ❝  as for me, i am a watercolour. i wash off.  ❞ ❝  do you dare send me away as though you were were waiting for something better?  ❞ ❝  my dear, you are in danger of being burned by your own flame.  ❞ ❝  i am three oceans away from my soul.  ❞ ❝  you, occasionally, glimmer with a light i’ve never seen before. it frightens me.  ❞ ❝  i went to sleep last night so i could see you.  ❞ ❝  even the eyes of gods must adjust to light. even gods have gods.  ❞ ❝  how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder?  ❞ ❝  it does me no good to be good to me now.  ❞ ❝  i may look alright, but if you were to look more closely you wouldn’t find a single healthy bit in me.  ❞ ❝  i must clothe myself in other worlds.  ❞ ❝  suffering is the privilege of those who feel.  ❞ ❝  sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine.  ❞ ❝  the vigor, the fire, that enables you to love and create. when you lose that, you’ve lost everything.  ❞ ❝  i can be bold, because i have you with me always.  ❞ ❝  you are shaking fists and trembling teeth. i know: you did not mean to be cruel. that does not mean you were kind.  ❞ ❝  not that i want to be a god or a hero, just to change into a tree,  grow for ages, not hurt anyone.  ❞ ❝  i laughed today. for a second i was unhaunted.  ❞ ❝  you are sunlight through a window, which i stand in, warmed.  ❞ ❝  there’s something electric in your blood.  ❞ ❝  you say you are broken,   but broken mirrors like you create the most beautiful patterns of light.  ❞ ❝  time doesn’t obey our commands.  ❞ ❝  i love you quite passionately, and with a touch of tragedy.  ❞ ❝  to feel anything deranges you. to be seen feeling anything strips you naked.  ❞ ❝  i love you --- like a storm bursts overhead --- i must confess it; all the more fiercely because you burn and bite.  ❞ ❝  and i have seen rivers, not unlike you, that failed to find their way back.  ❞ ❝  i am less a god now that you’ve touched me.  ❞ ❝  your words are gentle; but my blood runs cold to think what plots you may be nursing deep within your heart.  ❞ ❝  you said i killed you --- haunt me then.  ❞ ❝  your soul is frail and solemn, loyal and spring-like.  ❞ ❝  you look like you’ve eaten the sun, like you drank so much sunlight you’re drowning in it.  ❞ ❝  strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty.  ❞ ❝  you will hear thunder and remember me.  ❞ ❝  ever think it’s possible for us to be happy?  ❞ ❝  and i would wonder across all the deserts of this world, even after death, to search for you.  ❞ ❝  since we’re bound to be something, why not together?  ❞ ❝  i am ashes were once i was fire.  ❞ ❝  this mouth will destroy you the moment you mistake it for something soft, for something that is yours.  ❞ ❝  it’s no easy thing to bear, the weight of sweetness.  ❞ ❝  kill the light! i’d rather wallow in the dark.  ❞ ❝  i have thought of you often since the darkness.  ❞ ❝  with your presence the sun becomes irrelevant.  ❞ ❝  there is no god left in this skin. there’s just the ash. just the ash.  ❞ ❝  open your eyes, look more sharply, see me as i am.  ❞ ❝  what the hell is tragedy? i am.  ❞ ❝  i’ve got a lot of feeling for you. you’re kind.  ❞ ❝  how beautiful it is, how beautiful, that glow before the stars break.  ❞ ❝  so much to do today: kill memory, kill pain, turn heart into a stone, and yet prepare to live again.  ❞ ❝  i am myself. that is not enough.  ❞ ❝  i may be mad, god-seized, but i will stand outside my madness.  ❞ ❝  my power, which to me is still a curse ---  ❞ ❝  ocean sea with its caressing swell; it has so often cooled my heart.  ❞ ❝  do you bathe in perfume, and dry yourself in light?  ❞ ❝  i like you; your eyes are full of language.  ❞ ❝  let me tell you what i do know.    i am more than one thing and not all of those things are good.  ❞ ❝  you are the cause and the cure --- both.  ❞ ❝  i have kisses for the back of your neck.  ❞ ❝  your beautiful glance is unbearably cruel.  ❞ ❝  we might meet again, someday between dreams at dawn.  ❞ ❝  suffering is a terrible fire; it either purifies or destroys.  ❞ ❝  lately it hurts more to imagine you are a stranger rather than a destroyer.  ❞ ❝  and i say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.  ❞ ❝  since you walked out on me, i’m getting lovelier by the hour. i glow like a corpse in the dark.  ❞ ❝  i will not whine. i will obey and be forever still.  ❞ ❝  you move like the moon.  ❞ ❝  my eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears.  ❞ ❝  in your eyes, the fires of twilight.  ❞ ❝  do not haunt my soul; i have done well forgetting you.  ❞ ❝  i am no one. i cannot love. it’s in my blood.  ❞ ❝  you’re wearing your armor to protect your heart. who can blame you? it only makes sense in a world like this one.  ❞ ❝  you are not real. you are a dream of a dream.  ❞ ❝  there are so many things i’m not allowed to tell you.  ❞ ❝  i am indeed a shameless, evil-minded and abominable creature.  ❞ ❝  come this evening --- i am eager for stars.  ❞ ❝  i am on fire with that soft sound you make, in uttering my name.  ❞ ❝  i want you mostly in the morning when my soul is weak from dreaming.  ❞ ❝  to me you are the desert and the sea; everything secretive.  ❞ ❝  i thought i was wounded to the core but i was only bruised.  ❞ ❝  it is a dead heart. it is inside of me. it is a stranger.  ❞ ❝  i live --- but i’m mutilated.  ❞ ❝  if there is a light then i am going to swallow it.    if there is a god then i’m going to make him cry.  ❞ ❝  i am condemned to be a saint or a monster: unable to be the one, unwilling to be the other.  ❞ ❝  you will open your wounds and make them a garden.  ❞ ❝  i come home --- and i feel like a ghost returning its haunt.  ❞ ❝  i planted roses, but without you they were thorns.  ❞ ❝  everything inside me is in revolt.  ❞ ❝  how this darkness soaks me through and through.  ❞ ❝  give me my robe, put on my crown; i have immortal longings in me.  ❞ ❝  say something dangerous like i love you.  ❞ ❝  listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?  ❞ ❝  in times of crisis, we must decide again and again whom we love.  ❞ ❝  breathe the scent of little, earthly things. let the twilight touch you.  ❞ ❝  my heart is just like the ocean, has storm and calm and tides.  ❞ ❝  you became for me a sacred being, not to be touched save in adoring thoughts.  ❞ ❝  gods are stubborn. so am i.  ❞ ❝  is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?  ❞ ❝  there’s something soft in me. i killed it and it’s rotting.  ❞ ❝  beware. beware. there is a tenderness.  ❞ ❝  half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. real gods require blood.  ❞ ❝  i’m alive. like a wound, a flower in the flesh, the path of aching blood is open within me.  ❞ ❝  you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.  ❞ ❝  i have it in me...to scare myself with my own desert places.  ❞ ❝  my mouth still houses century-old magic.     in my ears i hear a ringing and singing and no god.  ❞ ❝  keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.  ❞ ❝  i’m full of poetry now. rot and poetry. rotten poetry.  ❞ ❝  this skin is sick with loneliness.  ❞ ❝  memories are sharp. they bite. i have spent most of my life trying to grow a thicker skin just to make sure i would not bleed out whenever i felt those teeth scrape up against me.  ❞ ❝  i wonder if i will ever find a language to speak of the things that haunt me the most.  ❞ ❝  after fury, what do you do with the remains?  ❞ ❝  come on, dance with me. the earth is spinning. we can’t just stand on it.  ❞ ❝  let’s admit, without apology, what we do together.  ❞ ❝  try to find the right place for yourself. if you can’t find it, at least dream of it.  ❞ ❝  it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations.  ❞ ❝  i am too full of life to be half-loved.  ❞ ❝  today you want nothing because wanting comes too close to feeling.  ❞ ❝  there’s nothing more terrible, more alluring, more mysterious than love.  ❞ ❝  heavenly wine and roses seem to whisper to me when you smile.  ❞ ❝  my soul is devoutly and wholly under your spell.  ❞ ❝  will you see the human in my being?  ❞ ❝  if i had a flower for every time i thought of you…i could walk through my garden forever.  ❞ ❝  part broken part whole, you begin again.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know if love’s a feeling. sometimes i think it’s a matter of seeing. seeing you.  ❞ ❝  i wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness?  ❞ ❝  whether you come as a lover or an exeutioner, i am ready to receive you.  ❞ ❝  i think i understand your longing. it looks so much like mine.  ❞ ❝  i’ve had so many knives stuck into me. when they hand me a flower, i can’t quite make out what it is.  ❞ ❝  i like the sea: we understand one another. it is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have; so am i.  ❞ ❝  do i not live? badly, i know, but i live.  ❞ ❝  something of you stuck with me. a splinter.  ❞ ❝  i clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos.  ❞ ❝  sometimes i shut my eyes, and shut my heart towards you, and try hard to forget you because you grieve me so, but you’ll never go away. oh you never will.  ❞ ❝  my golden love, if only you knew, what precious honey you are for me.  ❞ ❝  i had an old wound once, but it is healing.  ❞ ❝  always this in-betweenness, this almost, this it might be that...  ❞ ❝  when i close my eyes, i see you. when i open my eyes i want to see you.  ❞ ❝  dark as it is --- you see, that little flickering, is the light of my soul.  ❞ ❝  am i a monster or is this what it means to be a person?  ❞ ❝  i am talking about evil. it blooms. it eats. it grins.  ❞ ❝  sapphires are those eyes of yours, ravishingly sweet.  ❞

Getting Passive Protagonists to Act

Many beginning writers struggle with protagonists who are too passive. The plot seems to constantly be happening to him or her, but the protagonist doesn’t take an action to make the plot happen.

Ideally, when an event happens to a protagonist, the protagonist responds by taking an action that influences the next event, which then influences the protagonist, which then influences an event—and on and on. But that can be easier said than done. Especially if you have a protagonist who prefers to live life passively.

This could all get confusing, though, because in story structure, almost all protagonists will more or less become more proactive. But for the sake of this post, I'm talking about protagonists who are characteristically passive. A protagonist who may want to kick up his feet in a hammock with a glass of lemonade and watch the world deal with its own problems. How do we write a story about that guy?

Many people will tell you that you can't--you must change the character.

But that is not wholly true.

It's true in a good story, we need the protagonist to act--especially at key moments--but that doesn't mean he innately yearns to act.

Often the best solution in dealing with a passive character is to strengthen the stakes. Let me explain.

Anyone will Act with the Right Stakes

The stakes are potential consequences; they are what are at risk in the story. We often think of them as negative things (someone's life may be at risk), but they can also be positive things (the opportunity to be taught by a professional in your ideal vocation).

Stakes are important because if there is nothing at risk, then what happens, doesn't really matter, which means what the protagonist does, doesn't really matter, because it doesn't change any outcomes. The story only matters insomuch as we understand potential outcomes. The protagonist's choices only matter if they affect the outcomes.

For example, we only care about Frodo destroying the Ring because we know doing so could rid Middle-earth of Sauron’s evil. If we didn't know that, what happened with the Ring wouldn't really matter. And what Frodo did wouldn't carry any weight. (You can learn more about stakes in my article "How to Write Stakes in Storytelling.")

When struggling with getting a passive protagonist to act, (almost) always look at the stakes.

No Stakes

Make sure that you’ve at least laid out stakes. Sometimes writers feel like the stakes are obvious, so they don't mention them. Just as bad, if not worse, the stakes may be too vague. And definitely worse: nonexistent.

If the protagonist doesn't have anything clearly to gain or lose, why would she act? If what happened to the Ring didn't change something, why would Frodo go to Mount Doom? Why would any of us do anything if it didn't make some kind of difference?

In a case like this, clear stakes need to be on the page.

Let's look at some examples of what one might consider passive people within the context of their stories.

Shrek wants nothing more than to live alone on his swamp. If there is nothing at risk, is he really going to go on an adventure to rescue a princess? Probably not.

In The Edge of Tomorrow, I think it could be argued that the protagonist, Bill Cage (played by Tom Cruise) is somewhat passive in relation to the main conflict. The story is about him fighting in a war against aliens, but he has absolutely no desire whatsoever to enter combat--in fact, he's a coward. You think he would sign up to be the first in combat out of the goodness of his heart? No way.

In Trigun by Yasuhiro Nightow, protagonist Vash would rather spend all day, every day eating donuts, playing with kids, and helping out the person down the street. He'd rather live life under an alias than face the fact he's the only one capable of standing up to the antagonist and saving the human race.

If none of these characters ever had anything at risk, then they would have never taken the actions they needed to, to move the story forward. They would have been forever passive.

In short, they only acted once there were stakes.

Wrong Stakes

If there are stakes on the page, and the character still isn't acting, then chances are they are either the wrong stakes (things she doesn’t care about) or the stakes are too small (the potential consequences don’t pose a real threat or a meaningful gain).

If they are the wrong stakes, you need to think about what the protagonist cares about and put it in jeopardy. We all care about something--whether that’s a reputation or a pet.

For a passive person, you might need to dig deeper and brainstorm longer to figure out what it is. And if you are having trouble, keep in mind that it's also possible the passive protagonist wants something for someone else or his environment. Maybe she's satisfied drinking lemonade and getting picked on, but she's not okay with her kid getting bullied--that's not something she can let happen.

Shrek mostly cares about living alone on his swamp. If his distant neighbor is at risk of dying in loneliness, Shrek's likely not going to do much about it. The best way to get him to act, is to put his home and lifestyle at risk. He will be willing to take action to save that.

Bill is afraid of dying (it's part of what makes him a coward). If he's put in a situation where he could die, he'll be forced to act.

Vash is obsessed with saving people. Children, friends, innocents, criminals. It doesn't matter who. He doesn't want anyone to die. If no one is at risk of dying, then it's unlikely he will be drawn to fight his antagonists. Almost always he is led to act because someone's life is at risk.

Small Stakes

If the stakes are too small, you need to make them bigger by making them broader or more personal.

Even the most passive person is unlikely to feel passive with a gun pointed at them. Unless they have a death wish, in which case, you could have the gun pointing at a loved one, or you could threaten torture. Even people who have a death wish don't want to be tortured. Almost all of us will act if the stakes get big enough.

Alternatively, you can promise an opportunity that is too good to pass up. If all I want is to live out my life on a hammock by the beach sipping lemonade, then maybe the best motivation is the promise of getting that. Maybe I'd be willing to act, if it ensured that.

It's bad enough for Shrek to have a few creatures come on his swamp, but the fact that countless numbers of them will be exiled to his swamp, is even worse. This is a big enough issue to get him to act--he decides he must visit Farquaad, which moves the story to the middle.

It's bad enough to die once, but it turns out for Bill, that he has to die over and over and over again. He also has to go on the battlefield over and over and over again, too. He keeps repeating the same events. This is enough to get him to try new tactics (and really, what other choice does he have?).

It's bad enough that Vash can't save everyone. But when it turns out the antagonists plan to destroy the whole human race, well, he can't live out life in donut-filled peace, playing cops and robbers with tykes. He has to act.

Inaction Stakes

If your passive character still really does not want to act, it's worth keeping in mind that inaction is an action--it just needs significant stakes. There needs to be negative ramifications for the protagonist not acting. Ideally, eventually these negative consequences get so big or so personal, that the protagonist has to do something about it.

For example, at one point, Vash decides to live under an alias and do nothing. He decides to be inactive. Unfortunately, this results in an entire town getting wiped out by the antagonist. Doing nothing has steep consequences. He needs to at least try to do something.

This can become a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation--where "damned if you do" at least carries a small chance of success over "damned if you don't."

At one point in Edge of Tomorrow, Bill decides to do nothing. He even goes to a bar to drink in the middle of the day. Guess what? He still has to repeatedly die. Whatever he does, he ends up dying, and having to repeat that time frame. He can either be endlessly in a tortuous loop where he dies, dies, and dies, or he can keep trying to fix the situation. On the surface, it seems like he has a lot of options, since he gets to make different choices each time he repeats the day, but 99% of them lead to the same outcome. So in reality, he has very few choices. Act and maybe die. Or don't act and keep dying.

Limit Options

Related to the last one, one way to push a passive character to act, is to limit her choices and the outcomes. In fact, if we want to take this to the real world, studies show that the more options people have, the less likely they are to make a choice--or even make a good choice.

Like Bill, when there aren't really any options, the protagonist will be pretty much forced to act. Either keep reliving the same torture or try to do something about it.

Add to it some kind of countdown or convergence, so that the protagonist has a very limited window to act, and she'll have to do something.

Stakes Reveal Character

How the protagonist acts when there are things at risk, will reveal what kind of person she is.

In this sense, one might argue, that by strengthening the stakes to get her to act, you are changing her character after all.

Or perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that you are now revealing who she truly is.

Whatever the case, it can become an argument of semantics.

Similar things can happen with the term "passive."

Just understand the concepts and the tools.

The Reluctant Hero

In most, if not all cases, a characteristically passive protagonist will create a reluctant hero. Shrek doesn't want to save Fiona. Bill doesn't want to win the war. Vash doesn't want to confront the antagonist. They just want something to not happen, more than they want to do The Thing™️.

In this sense, while the passive protagonist will ultimately still be acting within the plot (which is necessary to write a good story), he or she may still yearn for passivity.

Of course, the character's arc may possibly shift that yearning by the end.

And it should go without saying, that pretty much all these same tricks will work for passive side characters, as well--when you need to get them to act. For example, in The Office, Stanley is characteristically passive. He pretty much sits in silence and does crossword puzzles. But when pushed far enough, he will back talk his boss. And when he wants something bad enough (like a free pretzel on pretzel day), he'll actually act.  

Hello dear! Can i request a Roman Sionis X Male!Reader where the reader is a metahuman with the ability of manipulating blood (aka a vampire) and tries to hide it from his lover until Roman finds out when Reader saves him from a mobster? Fluff please + Roman as proud as hell of his lover? Thanks in advance!

Life's Good | Roman Sionis x VampireMale!Reader

I am so sorry it took me so long to finally write this! I'm slowly catching up with the last few requests I've received before my break. I hope you're still interested in this and like what I've done with it (I admit, it got a little away from me because I was super invested in the scenario I came up with, so it is probably less fluffy than you may have wanted, sorry)!

summary; see above.

notes; CW // Blood-Drinking (mild Dub-Con for that at first); Gun Violence; Being Threatened; Murder (not graphic). Vampires; Kind of angsty?; Fluff; Aftercare (non-sexual, but you know, after feeding from someone).

Unlike most people would think you’ve actually been born this way. Your parents were vampires, conceiving you naturally, which of course meant you’d been born a metahuman. You’ve lived quite a normal life, despite the fact that instead of eating, drinking and sleeping like other humans would, you only slept rarely, only ate people food when you had to fit in, and otherwise you fed from humans, drinking their blood. You’d never killed anyone with it, though. Enough people who wanted you to feed from them existed, establishments were you could find them were all around the world. It was a pretty good life.

Still, you usually opted to keep it secret, unsure as to how people might react. While the general opinion of vampires has changed in all these centuries, standing in front of one was still a wholly different thing for most. You understood and respected that.

So when you met Roman – his scent so enticing, you had trouble keeping your fangs in – you stood in front of the question once again. Should you tell him?

Eventually, you decided to go with the flow and see where it’d take you. You didn’t immediately want to ruin your chances with him before you’ve actually gotten to know him at all.

At first it was a casual relationship anyway, no need to tell him your big secret then. But as time went on, your relationship became more serious. You stayed over at his loft more frequently, forced to eat his food and drink his beverages, so as not to let him suspect anything. It didn’t hurt you or anything, it was just unnecessary and you’d never get really used to, well, actual food and such. All the different textures and tastes and what you could do with what to change it. It was fascinating, but not exactly your favourite thing.

Of course, one fateful day it had all come to a head.

You had just admitted to yourself that you loved Roman a couple of weeks ago, not daring to say anything to him, as you didn’t fancy ruining what you two had with those three simple, yet powerful words.

Now though, you regretted that decision more than ever, terrified that maybe you would never be able to tell him how you felt.

It all happened so fast, too. One moment, you and Roman were out on the streets, way into the evening, having just had dinner at an expensive restaurant he’d invited you to; and you were laughing, talking about something – you couldn’t remember what – when you turned into an alleyway. In the next moment, a rival mob boss shot at the two of you. Warning shots, missing you both on purpose.

“What the fuck?!” Roman exclaimed, livid, but you could smell the underlying anxiety change his usual scent from when he was enraged. You hated it.

The gang leader – whatwashisface, you could never keep up – stood now in front of you two, having Roman at gunpoint. His men had surrounded you two, pointing their guns at both of you.

“What do you want?” Sionis spat at the other mob boss, glaring at him with a piercing, wild look in his eyes.

You stayed silent, your hands raised out of instinct. The bullets wouldn’t be able to kill you, unless they were specifically made for it, but that was so unlikely, you weren’t overly worried. You were concerned about Roman, though, anxious that this might have been it.

“Set an example, that’s what. You can’t scare us into submission. You can’t control us. You really think getting a hold of the East End would give you enough power to do that? Fuck you, I say!” the leader yelled.

“Well, fucking go on then if you’re really so tough! Or are you only bark and no bite? Cowardly ambushing me in private like that, I’m inclined to believe you are nothing but a talker. You can’t scare me either, you fuck.” You really wished Roman would shut up for once, lest he’d really get himself killed this time.

Your mind was racing with all possible outcomes this situation could bring. Only one was sure to get Roman out alive; and boy were you glad you’ve fed from someone yesterday.

Even though you had never killed anyone and didn’t desire to do so, you were ready to do anything for Roman, no matter what. You didn’t care that he’d know then, know that you were a freak of nature, as some hateful people liked to call people like you. You didn’t care that you’d take lives. They weren’t innocent, dared to threaten your love and you just couldn’t see past that.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and concentrated, focusing your abilities into play and onto every single man of this rival gang. It was rare for you to use any of your powers that didn’t exist and activate naturally, like your strength. Your parents had taught you to only use them for self defence and this situation was practically screaming for it.

Snapping your eyes back open, now glowing red, all of the men around you gasped and crumbled, letting their weapons clatter to the ground, grasping at their throats, or chest, trying so hard to save themselves. Moments later, they were all just lifeless bodies, lying around Roman and you, as if you were some victorious kings. And in a way, you were exactly that, weren’t you? Roman was soon to be the King of Gotham after all.

All too suddenly, all the strength left your body, your legs giving out. Roman, despite his apparent shock, caught you, steadied you. Gently, he lowered you to the ground, keeping his arms tightly wound around you.

It had taken a lot more out of you than you had anticipated. You desperately needed to feed.

“Y/N? Baby, hey, look at me,” Roman spoke softly, something only reserved for you, you had come to realise.

With half-lidded eyes, you looked up at him, a strained sound passing your lips. “You okay?” you asked, still unsure if everything had truly worked out the way you thought it would.

He scoffed, “Yes, quit worrying about me. Are you okay? What the fuck was that anyway?”

“Just gotta eat,” you murmured, slurring your words heavily, “Sorry about the- that. I’ll explain later.”

“What do you mean you have to eat? Baby, I can’t follow you. I hope you realise that I’m missing some of the fucking context here,” he chuckled, which bordered on sounding hysterical.

“Blood. Vampire. Now, Roman, or else- fuck. Won’t make it.” Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your voice just barely above a whisper anymore. Fuck, you hoped he understood. Even more so, you hoped he was okay with it and that maybe he liked you enough to save your life. You didn’t exactly fancy feeding from him, when he was basically pressured into it. But he had a choice, you told yourself.

When you were slowly lifted up a bit and felt skin against your lips, you forced all your last strength to open your mouth – your fangs had automatically unsheathed when you unleashed your powers – and bite down.

The first taste of Roman was as intoxicating and overwhelming as you had always fantasised it would be. A shaky moan came out of him when you started sucking in earnest. Pretty quickly, you regained more and more strength, feeling increasingly less dead. You cupped the other side of Roman’s neck with your hand and pulled him further in. Shit, you couldn’t possibly get enough.

After a few, long moments, you felt Roman push against you, as well as pulling at your clothes, calling your name. Reluctantly, and almost as if you were just waking up from a trance, you let up and licked up the excess blood on his neck, simultaneously licking his wounds closed.

Roman was breathing heavily, and you were still feeling out of it, as you two just kneeled in this alley, holding each other, amidst the dead bodies of Sionis’ former rivals. It was bizarre.

“I think we should go home,” Roman said eventually, his voice sounded so soft, as if he was barely present in the real world.

You nodded and got up, helping Roman to do the same. He was swaying a little and this time you were the one who steadied him. Drinking someone’s blood always took a toll on both parties and you knew you had taken more from him than you usually dared to do with anyone. It made you feel guilty. You had to make it up to him later – if he still wanted you then – that was for sure.

When you had arrived at Roman’s loft, you helped him lie down on his chaise longue, legs propped up on one of his many pillows, to help his blood flow to where it was most needed. Then you went over to the kitchen to get him a glass of orange juice and an energy bar.

Roman nodded in thanks when you pressed either item in his hands, standing above him. You felt so uncomfortable, didn’t quite know what to do with your hands, or if you were even supposed to still be here. He’s been so unusually quiet the entire time, albeit it was most likely due to shock and blood loss.

“So, you’re a vampire.” Roman stated, looking at you, and you hated that you couldn’t place his expression into any kind of category. You just nodded in answer. “Right. And why exactly didn’t I know?”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times, looking for the right words. “I was afraid of losing you over it,” you settled on telling the truth eventually.

Again, Roman only nodded; his expression was still so indecipherable, but then a certain shine caught in his eyes. You’ve only witnessed it a couple of times thus far.

“You killed for me,” he practically gasped. “Have you killed before? Being a vampire and all, I’d presume you have.”

You shook your head, “No, that was the first time, actually.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. Then, in an instant, his expression morphed into something prideful, a huge grin plastered on his face, his eyes brighter than any stars you’ve seen in the sky above – it was breathtaking. “You killed for me,” he repeated, sitting upright, throwing his legs over the side of the chaise longue, planting his feet on the ground.

“Y-yeah, I did,” you replied, a weak chuckle leaving you. You still couldn’t quite believe that you’ve done it, especially when you spared a thought on how it made you feel – powerful, so far above others, good.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Fuck, you’re a dream come true, my little prince! You’re so special. A vampire! And you killed for me, because-“ He couldn’t finish it, realisation dawning on him, you could see it in his eyes, in the way his smile slowly vanished.

“Because I love you, yes. I couldn’t lose you over some stupid mob boss who thought he could ambush you like that.”

Roman licked his lips and nodded, placed the empty glass and half eaten energy bar on the table in front of him, and got up.

“I’m proud of you,” he then said, taking you by surprise.

“What? Why?”

“For not letting your fears get in your way. You were afraid of losing me for being a vampire, but you were probably even more terrified of losing me to my mortality. And you pushed through it. Almost fucking killed yourself, only to save me. I’m proud of you for doing that. I’m grateful, too, naturally.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Roman,” you snickered.

Instead of continuing the conversation, Roman pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. Putting your arms around his shoulders, you kissed him back, hoping to show him just how grateful you were with that single kiss.

Then you remembered your guilt from before and broke it. Roman glared at you for a moment. “What?”

“You never gave your consent, I- I fed from you and you never-“

“I did. By offering myself to you. I had a choice, you know? So quit it. You’re not guilty of anything, my boy. And just so you know, I’ll fucking kill you if you ever feed from anyone else again, ‘kay?” He was smirking, but his eyes had an edge to them, which let you know that he was serious about his threat.

Giving a short laugh, you nodded and kissed him again. Life really was good.

⊹ skin and bones.

note: ig makki deserves love or whatever 🙄🙄

inspired by this headcanon from @/mintmatcha.

ft. hanamaki takahiro.

wc: 1.1k

warning: gn!reader, insecurities, body image issues, hurt/comfort, timeskip!spoilers

Hanamaki is comfortable with himself. He’s confident for the most part and knows how to play to his strengths. He has a good sense of humor, so he likes to think and so he’s been told. He takes pride in the fact that it’s easy for him to spark laughter from others. He doesn’t let things affect him too much, never one to linger on events that have occurred in the past or fret over all the possibilities that the future holds.

But like every other person, Hanamaki has his weaknesses and insecurities. He’s just better at hiding it than most.

He knows he’s not the most attractive person ever, but that’s not to say Hanamaki necessarily dislikes how he looks. It’s just being friends with Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Iwaizumi in high school took its toll on him.

Objectively, Hanamaki knows his friends are attractive. He’s not blind. Oikawa had a whole fan club for fuck’s sake, but Matsukawa and Iwaizumi had their fair share of admirers as well. Hearing people talk about how everyone in your friend group is hot besides you doesn’t exactly boost one’s confidence. Hanamaki can’t recall how many times he thought a girl liked him, just for her to not so subtly ask if he could hook her up with one of his friends.

And that feeling stuck with Hanamaki even after he moved on from high school and graduated from college and met you. Standing in front of the mirror in your shared bathroom, Hanamaki’s body comes under scrutiny. His body’s changed a lot from high school. He’s put on some weight, evident by the slight pudge of his stomach and arms. His friends still look as great as ever, he thinks bitterly to himself. Oikawa’s a fucking pro-athlete while Iwaizumi’s an athletic trainer and Matsukawa? Well, Matsukawa’s Matsukawa.

“What are you doing Hiro?” Your gentle question has Hanamaki swiveling around to look at you. You’re leaning against the frame of the door, head tilted with a soft, knowing look on your face.

Hanamaki’s quick to slip on the t-shirt he has clutched in between his hands. “Was just checking myself out. You know, admiring my beauty?” He jokes, hoping that you won’t comment on what you saw. He thought you would still be out right now, catching up with one of your friends who you haven’t seen in a while. He must have spent more time looking in the mirror than he thought if you were home already.

“Hiro.” You place a hand on his arm, preventing him from putting on his shirt the rest of the way. “Can you take your shirt off for me, baby?”

He pauses. Slowly, Hanamaki inches his shirt up over his head and peels it off. He tenses underneath your light touch. Your palms hover over his chest before you reach up to entwine your fingers together behind his neck.

“Babe, if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask,” Hanamaki jests, trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re beautiful, Hiro.”

Hanamaki isn’t quick enough to suppress the disbelieving scoff that escapes from his lips. Your brows furrow upon hearing the noise, prompting you to look at your boyfriend’s face, who’s pointedly looking away from you.

“Hiro, you know I love you, right?” Your hands slip from behind his neck to rest against his smooth cheeks. You gently tilt his head until he’s looking in your direction.

“Course I do. I love you too,” he quietly replies. Despite the situation, you can’t help the way your lips slope up into a small smile. You’re sure that you’ll never grow tired of hearing Hanamaki say those words.

“And since I love you that means I love you in your entirety. Your perceived flaws and all.” Hanamaki’s hands on your hips tighten, his nails digging almost painfully through the fabric of your shirt, but you don’t pay attention to the slight pain. Your attention is wholly devoted to the man in front of you, who you only wish could see himself the way you do.

Because to you, Hanamaki Takahiro is not perfect in the slightest.

He’s messy, always forgetting to tuck his shoes neatly in the designated spot by the door and leaving a trail of dirty laundry around your home more often than not. When you try and reprimand him about it, he only offers you a sheepish grin that looks completely unrepentant while telling you it won’t happen again. (It does happen again. And again. And again.)

He’s loud. When you’re attempting to get work done in the room that the two of you have designated as your office, you can still hear him playing his video games in the living room even if the door is closed. It’s irritating when all you want is peace and quiet so you can get some shit done and you can hear your boyfriend cursing out his friends for “sucking ass.”

But the thing is, even if Hanamaki isn’t perfect, which you never expected of him, you still love him completely.

Because Hanamaki’s considerate. Whenever you’re in a group and others drown out your voice, whether knowingly or unknowingly, and you’re left thinking that you’re better off just not speaking at all, Hanamaki is there by your side, prompting you to continue your thought. Because even if no one else wants to listen to what you have to say, you know that Hanamaki does, no matter how pointless you may believe it is.

He makes your day so much better without even realizing it. The countless dumb memes he sends throughout the day make you giggle and snort and shake your head, wondering how Hanamaki has such a large collection of cursed memes, seemingly for every possible occasion. And even though they’re dumb and stupid, they make you laugh and remind you that Hanamaki’s thinking of you.

And he’s so beautiful to you. You can feel the skepticism and doubt radiating off of his form, but Hanamaki is truly beautiful in ways that you cannot fathom. The smattering of freckles that litter his skin, the unbelievably pinkish hue of his hair, the soft curves of his arms and legs and stomach - you love it all.

Because you love him.

“I’m going to list some of the reasons I love you so much. Not all, because then we’d be standing here for an eternity.” That earns you a snort from Hanamaki. It’s not much, but you’re glad to see that his shoulders have relaxed the slightest bit. He pulls you closer until your chests are flush together and his forehead is touching yours.

“I think I can spare the time to listen.”

tagging: @babyworld.

Omakase

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x Reader 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+, smut, slight overstim, all characters are aged up, ofc. 

A/N: Happy birthday to the woman that literally birthed my blog, the writer of the best fics I’ve ever read-- *cough Notice, Seven Minutes, Of Love and Lemons, etc.*-- @lookslikeleese​. It’s 5 am right now and my brain cannot come up with the proper words, but just know I love you so much. Thank you for creating our entire friend group. I LOVE YOU. 

omakase (noun): 

(in a Japanese restaurant) a meal consisting of dishes selected by the chef; chef’s choice. 

Thirty minutes into supper with the Todorokis, you think your heart may actually stop beating. It’s not the awkward silence, nor the snowstorm of icy glares traveling across the table. You’ve long since made your peace with the scents of charred leather couches and melted silverware that linger in your hair whenever one of the men gets riled up. 

No, it’s an issue far more pressing than the typical family drama, a matter that needs to be resolved with stealth— immediately. 

It’s Shouto’s fingers, darting into his pocket and pressing a single button. It’s your heels digging into the cool tile beneath you. It’s every nerve standing on end, every passing second sending a wave of heat to your core. Your knuckles blanche, gripping the oak table with such ferocity that it may just snap, and your thighs shake, overwhelmed.

The issue is that there’s a little pink vibrator pressing against your clit and the bi-colored bastard chews his food as though this night is no different than any other. 

It doesn’t matter that the toy’s been placed at the lowest setting all night, doesn’t matter that your fingernails relieve a bit of the pressure every time you dig them into your exposed thighs. The only thought crossing your mind is your impending orgasm. How are you supposed to stifle euphoric pleasure when you’re barely able to hold it together now? 

“So, how’s that new job going?” Enji asks more out of courtesy than interest. While you typically humor his attempts at placid conversation, you’re too troubled to speak to the stoic man in front of you. What if your juices seep through your soaked panties right onto the chair? 

“It’s— ah- it’s really good.” 

And this has been your entire night thus far. Feeble efforts to remain coherent, whines and gasps hidden behind awkward coughs— anything and everything you can possibly do to maintain your dignity in the presence of your boyfriend’s father. 

“What was that funny story you were telling me earlier today?” Shouto doesn’t miss a beat, sending a quick slant your way before stuffing another bite of rice into his mouth. He knows precisely what he’s doing, can feel the pointed daggers you dig into the side of his head, but his relaxed smile reveals nothing to the three pairs of eyes gazing intently at you, awaiting your response.

“Oh, Mt. Lady, she— oh my god,” As soon as you begin speaking, he cranks the toy up to a new level. Though it’s only for a second, the sound that leaves your body is inhuman, a mortifying cross between a sob and a choke that has your palm slamming onto the table fiercely.

All at once, the table is bustling with concern for your safety. To their naive eyes, it seems you choked on a bite of food, and Fuyumi hurries to grab you a glass of water. Shouto simply remains seated, a slick grin plastered across his face at the sight of your heated cheeks and teary eyes. What the fuck could have possessed you to agree to this in the first place? 

“I-I’m okay,” you mumble out, embarrassment shaking you far worse than any sex toy ever could. And that fact— the way your eyebrows knead together in discomfort as you squirm in your seat— is precisely what Shouto wants. You’re no stranger to humiliation, no stranger to the tugging deep in your gut or the heated flush that darts onto your mattress and makes its home on your cheeks.

But this? This type of shame is foreign; it makes your head spin and refuses to waver no matter how much you silently gripe and plead. “Honestly, I feel a bit—” another pulse, another pained gasp from you, “ill.” The words barely make their way out before you’re gritting your teeth, thighs pressing together so tightly they may leave pretty purple marks. 

“Maybe I should take her upstairs,” Shouto sighs, faux apology slipping through his mouth with ease. When did the fucker get so good at lying? 

And then he’s helping you up from your seat, rubbing tender circles into your back, like any good boyfriend would. But every graze is unbearable, sends a tidal wave of warmth rushing through your core. The most innocent of touches has become obscene, twisted in a way only you and the cool man next to you are able to acknowledge. 

As you climb the stairs with shaky legs, you can only pray that the rest of the family doesn’t notice the slick juices trailing down your thighs. 

—

“Who knew dinner and a show could be so entertaining?” He teases, just barely dodging the fist you throw half-heartedly at his shoulder. His supple lips are glued into a smirk, one that probably won’t drop until the night is long over. 

“Please– I-” you attempt to stifle your moans, but in the comfort of his childhood bedroom you find yourself slipping into a high-pitched whine. “Turn it off.” He seems to debate the plea internally, slender fingers brushing over the buttons until you grip harshly at his bicep. You’ve endured enough misery to last you months. 

When he finally switches it off, you feel your entire body slacken and relief wash over you; however, it does nothing for the throbbing in your clit or the pool of desire still brimming in your core. What you crave is his touch, the warmth that pokes and prods at your every muscle, loosening each nerve until you’re a babbling mess— wholly at the mercy of his lithe fingers. 

“Shou,” you mewl, voice dripping with desperation. His eyes widen for a quick second, brows raised and shocked by your blatant come-on with his family only a level down. “I need you.” 

Those three simple words have him springing into action, shoving you against the mattress. Pinning you beneath him with ease, he hikes your skirt up to your hips before running a slender digit against your clothed slit. 

“You made a mess,” his words carry no weight, only amazement at the juices flowing freely through the thin panties and down your thighs. “Probably made a mess all over your chair too.” 

With that comment, your shame is back with a vengeance, tinging the tips of your ears and causing you to cry out. Before Shouto, you’d have never thought this sort of depraved commentary could have you shaking. Hell, you’re not sure he even knew what he was doing to you at first; ever oblivious, Shouto simply speaks his mind. 

Only when he noticed the effect of his words, did he begin using those passing observations against you. Now, he lives for your reactions, spurs you on if only to see how far a gruff remark can push you— and typically, your limit is reached in wanton sobs and bright red scratch marks down his back. 

He doesn’t bother with removing the lace panties, only tugs them to the side so he can brush his fingers against your naked slit. When he pushes a thumb against your clit, you can’t help the loud cry that escapes you. “Bite,” he offers up his wrist so that your moans don’t carry through the thin walls. 

Your teeth sink into his flesh, eliciting a sharp breath at the sudden pain. And he enjoys that part too— the lengths you’ll go to achieve pleasure, the stinging reminders of your desire. “Stay quiet for me, yeah?” He tests a finger, then two, knuckles deep in your doughy walls as you writhe on the bed. “Good girl.” 

“Mmph,” you feel your eyes roll back at the soft praise, thighs tensing as he begins to pump his digits in and out. “Faster, ah– please.” Your moans are muffled against his arm, but he complies nonetheless, fingers curling and hitting the spot that drums against your heartbeat, that rattles through your brain.

The second he brings his lips to your clit, you feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. Hair slick with sweat, your hands roam through his own wet strands, gripping and tugging him closer, closer, closer. He suckles hungrily, his last meal long forgotten as he pushes you further over the edge. 

All at once, you see stars. You’re unsure whether you’re keeping quiet like he asked or sobbing loudly, the tidal wave of pleasure consumes you whole, stomach going taut and twisting as he allows you to ride out your orgasm. With the toy slowly edging you all night, this bliss feels fully merited— is exactly what you deserve after being subjected to his teasing for so long. 

Shouto only lets up when your entire body has gone slack and you push his head away. Bringing his fingers up to your supple lips, he watches hungrily as you slurp at your own slick. 

His eyes are the darkest you’ve ever seen them, pooling with eagerness and a longing for more; he brings a thumb to his chin to wipe at your juices— licks a long stripe up the digit to fully savor you. The image is immodest at the least, animalistic at most.

It reignites your own thirst immediately. 

Though you’re exhausted, core spasming from overuse, you find yourself tugging at his waistband, pulling him close so he can sheath himself inside you in one fell thrust. 

“Fuck,” his voice is husky, groan stifled in the nook of your shoulder. “Still so fucking tight for me.” The only sounds that fill the air are your joint moans, the squeaky springs of the mattress, and the headboard clanging against the wall— sweat soaked skin as his hips snap against you. 

“Ah— please, please, please,” it seems to be the only phrase that falls from your loose lips. Every jerk sends shocks across your damp flesh, vision going foggy as he sends your brain spinning. Once again, you teeter at the edge, so close. Your legs wrap across his back, digging into the globes of his ass to pull him impossibly closer. 

“What do you want?” He grunts into your jaw, peppering wet kisses down your neck and across your chest. It may leave a mark or two, but it’s something to worry about later. 

“I–”At this point, you’re just a teary, blubbering mess, “please, Shou– need your cum.” You manage the words, knowing exactly what effect they have. His movements quicken, pace faltering as he chases his own high. 

And then, you’re both seeing stars. With one final shudder, his cock twitches, and then he’s spilling into you. Your groans intertwine, his a loud sigh of your name, you sobbing helplessly. 

Once he finally stills, he collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving. His fingers smooth at your matted hair, whispers of ‘so good for me’ and ‘fuck, baby’ into the shell of your ear as he allows your body— still trembling uncontrollably— time to regain composure.  

Now you remember why you agreed to this little game of his.

–

“I hope you feel better,” Fuyumi hugs you goodbye, though your eyes are glazed over in post-coital bliss. Her gaze doesn’t quite meet your own, anyways. But they couldn’t have heard; you were quiet. Weren’t you? 

As you stumble into the passenger side of Shouto’s pristine Model S, you catch the gruff comment Enji murmurs to Shouto, 

“You two could stand to be a bit less obvious next time.”