#this HAPPENED THIS HAPPENED there’s like five people in the world who know but but but
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the younger morgan
alex morgan x morgan!USWNT!reader
part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six
Growing up in the Morgan household, I was always known as my own individual person. Y/n Morgan. I am described by my peers as someone who’s kind, sensitive, and humble. However, to some of the public and people who barely know of me, I am known as "Alex Morgan's little sister."
It wasn't a title I despised while growing up. Being born 14 years after her, I was adopted by the Morgans at birth. My sister and parents have been my family for my entire life, even if we aren’t blood. They’ve surrounded me in a blanket of love while supporting my athletic, famous sister at the same time.
Alex won her first World Cup in 2015 when I was eleven. I remember sitting in the stadium, the air electric with cheers and chants, watching her lift that trophy high. Having my sister as my idol while growing up was a blessing that most girls would dream of.
The pride I felt was immense, but it was always mixed with a yearning.
I played as a striker while growing up, just like Alex. My feet scored goals in every match i’ve had minutes in. By the time I was old enough to transition into taking soccer seriously, it was clear I had inherited the Morgan soccer genes, even if I wasn’t blood-related.
With the best coaches in the country guiding me, I quickly became one of the best U21 strikers in the world, just like Alex. Success in high school championships, the USYNT national team (before my senior team call up in November 2022), and in my first year of college landed me a spot on the San Diego Wave alongside my sister. I forfeited my college eligibility so I can jump into taking soccer seriously, which I did.
Yet, I hide the fact that the inevitable comparisons to Alex bothered me. Anytime I made a mistake, I had people on social media saying that “Alex at your age would’ve never made that mistake!” and more that were way harsher and mean. I felt a hollowness inside me because I had to accept that San Diego wasn’t the club for me. Something I didn’t realize until half-way into the season.
This wasn't about the love or support I received from my family or the fans. It was about forging my path, I wanted to be my own person away from Alex. I love her so much, but I wanted people to see me for who I really am. I needed a moment which would give me the reassurance that my career was truly mine.
One afternoon, after a particularly grueling training session, I collapsed onto my soft beige colored couch for a nap. I knew I had plans with Jaedyn, Naomi, and Maria later— but I knew I could fit in a good three hour nap before I had to get ready for the night. However the ring of my phone jolted me awake after an hour into my nap. My eyebrows knitted at the sight of my agent's name, Maggie, flashing on the screen.
Usually, Maggie never calls unless we are discussing deals or contract negotiations. However, I asked her two weeks ago if she could contact SD Wave about putting me on the transfer market. Maggie said that wasn’t needed since there was something else that would excite me– but she didn’t explain what.
"Y/n, I have some exciting news!!!" Maggie began without giving me the chance to say hi, her voice brimming with enthusiasm as I clicked on the speaker option. I rubbed my tired eyes trying to pay attention to what she’s gonna say.
“What happened?” I ask, sitting up from my laid down position and sitting criss-crossed on my couch.
"You know how you asked about a possible transfer? Well I already had a few offers coming in for you before you asked—'' Maggie started as I heard a few clicks on her side of the call, I’m assuming she's clicking stuff on her computer while on the phone with me.
“So– *click*--- *click* — okay! There are a lot of NWSL clubs that have put in an offer for you. Houston, Gotham, Orlando, Kansas, and Washington have sent in their offers— but I understand that you wanted to go to Europe, is that correct?” Maggie says as I bite the skin around my nail beds. Growing up, I’ve always admired European clubs and the different cultures Europe has. Playing in Europe would expose me to a better challenge that I’ve wanted in my career. A good chance to (hopefully) play in the Champion’s League too, another thing my sister won in 2017.
“Yes, that is correct.” I say, trying to sound as normal as possible. I am nervous, knowing that this call could change my life.
“Okay- well that's amazing because several European clubs are interested in you. You have many clubs to choose from— Chelsea, Manchester City, Arsenal, Tottenham, Real Madrid, Madrid CFF, PSG, Wolfsburg— those clubs in particular all offered you a contract. Barcelona showed interest too but you’re not a free agent and due to their financial struggles, they cannot sign you unless you were free. However—- Bayern Munich in Germany offered you a very great deal– a four year contract with add ons—the salary they’re offering along with the add-ons is way better than all of the others. I feel like you would love this club." Maggie commented. Outside of work, Maggie and I had a somewhat good relationship for people who try to remain professional. Maggie had a good intuition and can read people, which means that she knows how I work and how my personality is in detail.
Hearing about the clubs– my heart pounded in my chest at Bayern Munich. The name alone sent a feeling inside of my body that I couldn’t explain. I placed my hands on my forehead as I felt overwhelmed from the amount of clubs I could choose from. However, my curiosity and intuition wanted to look more into the Bayern Munich offer.
“Maggie— I can’t lie—Bayern Munich is sticking to me right now.” I say, dragging out my last words as my voice breaks into a yawn. Training was intense today.
“Okay! Okay! Here’s what we can do— I can come over now and drop off the documents to you— you can look over them and we can have an in-person meeting on your day off from training next Thursday at lunch, deal?” Maggie said. I can sense her smile through the phone call as I felt relieved from having to make such a quick decision. It's Friday so I have six days to make a final decision.
"Deal," I said, barely able to handle the fact that my nervousness turned into small excitement. I couldn’t tell anybody about this but that was okay with me.
Thursday came and I chose to move to Munich in June. I can spend the season, before the olympics, with San Diego then i’ll move to play for Bayern on the four-year contract afterwards. I couldn’t tell anybody the news until I got the green-light to do so from Maggie.
Keeping this news from Alex and my friends was one of the hardest things I've ever done. Alex was not just my sister but also my mentor and my rock. But I knew I had to wait until everything was finalized before telling her. She should understand that part. Meanwhile, rumors swirled online, speculating about my potential move to Europe in the month afterwards.
One evening as I played with Charlie, in Alex's living room, I could feel the weight of my secret growing heavier. I look at my niece with a light smile as she colored in a fairytale themed coloring book I got her last christmas. I am going to miss seeing her every-week when I move to Germany.
Eventually, Alex finished what she had to do in her kitchen and picked up Charlie. The little girl complained before her mother explained that it was late and it was time for bed. Its 8:30 which wasn’t late in my eyes but Charlie is a child so—
After Alex put Charlie to bed, and after I cleaned up after Charlies crayon mess, she joined me in the living room and sat beside me on the couch, her expression serious.
"Y/n— we have to talk.” Alex said. My nerves were on fire hearing Alex say that. I knew she was going to mention Bayern— I can’t hide it anymore. The rumors on social media are increasing and everyone knows my move to Munich is inevitable, even if I haven’t addressed it yet.
“I know.” I respond, my right leg is crossed over my left one as I cross my arms together.
“Are the rumors online true? You know I don’t like to search the media for answers, but the rumors are increasing and everyone is positive that they’re correct on their suspicions— Are you leaving here to play for Bayern?" Alex asked, her eyes searching mine for answers.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I couldn’t lie to her "Yes, Alex, they're true. I'm going to play Bayern Munich in June."
After saying this, I thought Alex would be happy for me right away.
However, her concern was palpable. "But why, Y/n? Why are you moving so far away? We have everything here."
"That's why, Alex," I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady. "I need to do this for myself. I want a new challenge and seeking something new has been my goal for since the off-season. I need to know if I can make it—-- without always being compared to you." I struggled to say the last part.
The argument that followed was heated but subdued, mindful of Charlie sleeping nearby. Alex didn't understand my need to step away, to find my own path.
“Everyone knows you’re a great player, you have a higher record than me this season!! You don’t need to leave the country.” Alex argued.
“Well you played for Lyon and Spurs at one point, which is outside of America—- the NWSL isn’t the only league in the world and I need to grow. If your concern is about safety, I promise i’ll be able to take care of myself. I need this Alex— You know I am a responsible person!” I stood up from the couch. Alex followed and looked at me with concern.
“You are– I’m not saying you’re not responsible– but you’re going to leave everything behind!”
“No I am not? I will always come back during International breaks!” I argue.
“Okay– but you shouldn’t “need” to move to Germany. You’re going to leave your friends behind too Y/n!” Alex continued to argue. My blood boiled at her words.
"You know, Why can’t you just be supportive!!?? I can’t do this anymore–” I say as I ran to put on my shoes by the door, grabbing my tote bag with all of my items inside.
“I'm glad I'm moving away Alex. Maybe they'll respect me as a good player and my own person– and not just Alex Morgan's sister!" I stormed out of her apartment, the rift between us widening.
We didn't speak after that night. Even at training with the San Diego Wave, we maintained a professional distance, our conversations limited to the bare necessities or anything related to Charlie. The silence was deafening, but I was resolute. This was my decision to play for Bayern, she needs to respect it.
When the SheBelieves Cup came around, Alex and I both made the roster, as usual. This was my last international break as a San Diego player. Since i’ll be living in Germany by the time the Korea friendlies happen in June.
On the national team, I found solace in my closest friends Jaedyn, Sophia, Trinity, and Mallory. Jaedyn plays at San Diego with me so she has a better understanding about the situation. I told her that I am moving to Munich and we had a bittersweet moment, at least she was supportive of my decision. All of the other girls sensed something was wrong but respected my need for space, assuming that they shouldn’t come in-between family business. Especially if one of their captains is involved.
On the pitch against Japan for the first she-believes game, my performance was excellent on the pitch. In my mind, I knew I wanted to do good so Bayern fans would be excited about my transfer to their club.
After scoring twice against Japan, we were now in a penalty shootout with Canada. This is the second-time we’ve gon into penalties this year together. Once in the gold-cup a few months back.
Emily Fox made the penalty against the Canadian goalkeeper, and the next Canadian kicker’s shot was blocked by Alyssa (Secretary of Defense). Everyone looked in my direction as the ball was passed into my hands. If I make this shot, I win the shebelieves cup for the United States.
My hearts pounded like a drum in my cheat as I looked ahead at Kailen, my San Diego teammate and friend who plays for Canada. She knows how I kick, and I know how she blocks shots coming her way.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside of me. I had practiced penalty shots countless times throughout my time in soccer, but this was different. This was the final. This was for the win.
The referee blew the whistle, signaling it was time for me to shoot. My body stepped forward, and my mind was clear. As I closed in on the ball, I locked eyes with Kailen, who was poised and ready, her eyes fierce with determination.
My foot struck the ball cleanly, sending it soaring through the air. Time seemed to slow as the ball arced towards the goal, the world holding its breath. Kailen dove to her right, stretching out in a desperate bid to stop the shot.
But it was too late. The ball sailed past her outstretched fingers and hit the back of the net with a satisfying thud. The crowd erupted in a roar of triumph, the sound crashing over me like a wave. I scored the winning goal!
Before getting a chance to process what had happened, my teammates rushed towards me. All of their faces showed joy and relief. They enveloped me in a jubilant embrace, lifting me off her feet as we celebrated the victory together. I looked around, taking in the ecstatic faces of my friends, the adoring fans, and the sparkling lights of the stadium. I looked to my right and saw my sister’s bright smile looking towards me, this made my heart warm up a little bit.
After everyone broke away from me, before the trophy celebration and the part where I’ll be rewarded as SheBelieves MVP, Alex approached me. Her expression was softer than the last time i’ve talked to her at her apartment. Her eyes reflected a mix of hope, sadness and understanding.
"Y/n, can we talk?"
I nodded, and we found a quiet spot away from the rest of the team on the pitch.
"I'm sorry," she began. "I was selfish. I was thinking about how much Charlie and I would miss you, not about what you need."
Her words broke the dam of emotions I'd been holding back. "I know. But Alex— I just want to be seen for who I am, Alex. Not just as your little sister."
She pulled me into a hug, and for the first time in weeks, I felt a sense of peace. "You will be, Y/n. You'll be amazing, and I am so proud of you and that gorgeous penalty kick." Alex squeezed me and I laughed at her gesture.
“Thank you, Thank you! I have the best sister who showed me what good penalty kicks are.” I smile.
As the middle of June approached, after the Korea friendlies, I prepared for my move to Germany with a mix of excitement and nerves. Alex and I grew closer again, our bond strengthened by the fact that this new routine will give us a chance to miss eachother.
The day I boarded the plane to Munich, with three suitcases and one carry on bag with everything I need for my apartment I found while spending a week in Munich last month— Alex was there, cheering me on.
“I’ll miss you sweetheart.” Alex hugged me. I hugged her back before hugging my smaller niece who stood beside us. "I will miss you both the most." I respond.
Later as the plane took off, I looked out the window, my heart full of hope. This was my chance to prove myself to the world and to the fans that I am more than just my sister.
-----
part two here
<3
#alex morgan#jaedyn shaw#uswnt x reader#uswnt players#uswnt imagine#woso community#woso fanfics#woso x reader#san diego wave#nwsl#nwsl 2024#she believes cup#bayern frauen#bayern munich
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Day 30: Time Loop/Time Travel
heck yeah, i completed two days this year!!
the ending is a bit more abrupt than i wanted, but it just was not cooperating with me, and i was afraid that if i left it too long with my other incomplete Zutara Month ideas it might get infected with "takes too long to finish -itis". so here it is.
The word spreads quickly, covering the entire Earth Kingdom in a matter of days and reaching the Northern Water Tribe’s court within a week. Even the remnant of the Southern Water Tribe, all but forgotten at the bottom of the world, hears about it before the new moon.
Fire Lord Ozai is dead. His successor, Fire Lord Iroh, has declared his intentions to put an end to his nation’s war of domination. Petitions for peace and offers of reparations are being extended to all world leaders.
The Southern Water Tribe elders suspect a trap of some kind. Some think the proposed Peace Conference is actually an opportunity for him to kill the other nations’ leadership, leaving them vulnerable to his armies. Others suspect a subtler scheme to conquer the rest of the world through diplomacy, or perhaps a combination of culture and technology.
For Sokka and Katara, who only hear the news by listening intently outside the elders’ meeting tent, there are more pressing matters at hand.
“Dad’s going to need me with him at this Peace Conference,” Sokka declares. He pulls out his boomerang and takes aim at a snowman some of the little kids built last week. “Whatever the Fire Nation’s planning, it’s no match for Southern Water Tribe ingenuity!”
Katara worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “What happened to Fire Lord Ozai?”
Sokka scoffs. “Who cares? He was a big, fat jerkbender like all of them. Probably set his bed on fire ‘cause he was roasting the Earth King in his sleep.”
She says nothing as her brother goes to pull his boomerang out of the snowman’s head. Nor does she say anything when her father announces that he and his entire family will be attending the Peace Conference, along with several of his best warriors.
On the ship, she delights in opportunities to use her waterbending to speed it on its way, or to play pranks on Sokka, but often she is found deep in thought, wearing a pensive look much too old for her.
“You’re strangely quiet,” Kya observes as they prepare to disembark. The voyage is over, but the journey to Omashu will take at least another day. “Something eating you, sealpup?” She pokes her daughter in the side, which provokes a giggle that quickly fades. Face unusually solemn, Katara shakes her head. Kya frowns, but leaves the matter be.
The entry into Omashu is packed like salted fish in a barrel, people from all over drawn to the Peace Conference, but an envoy from the king gives their delegation precedence over the rest. Sokka cranes his head back to take in the architecture. Kya’s gaze flits around, trying to take in the variety of clothing worn by native and visitor alike. Hakoda’s attention is on his family, but he makes sure he knows where all his warriors are at the same time. Kanna, riding an ostrich horse graciously provided by the king, seems mostly interested in staying upright, but her head turns every now and then when a familiar scent wafts in from one of the market stalls. Katara, kept at the center of her family unit, has no interest to spare for any of it.
When they reach the palace, they are immediately brought to the main hall, where King Bumi, Chief Arnook, and three of the Earth Kingdom’s Council of Five await them, as well as Fire Lord Iroh. No sooner are the official introductions made than Katara turns to Fire Lord Iroh and, with a hasty bow, demands, “Did Zuko come with you?” A half-second later, flustered, she stutters, “I - I mean Prince Zuko.”
In the chaos of the sudden trip, some things were left to the last minute, and that includes the talk Hakoda and Kya intended to give their children about how to behave in front of foreign royalty. The blood drains from Kya’s face. Hakoda, his face a storm of anger stirred up by fear, takes a step toward Katara, prepared to pull her back to safety. But before he can, to their astonishment a broad smile spreads across the Fire Lord’s face. With a shallow bow, he waves a hand toward a door behind them. “Prince Zuko is in the garden, but I am sure he would not mind the company, if your parents think it acceptable.”
Katara is running towards the door before he finishes speaking.
*****
Katara knows she’s going to get in trouble for this later. It’s her own fault, putting off the explanation for so long, acting like the little girl they believe her to be -- as much as she can, at least. But whatever punishment they think up is nothing compared to what’s waiting for her in that garden.
If he doesn’t remember, if she’s still all alone in this, then no punishment could be worse. If he does …
She’s never seen the garden in the Omashu palace before. It’s more ornamental than the ones she’s used to, and the main features seem to be rocks and crystals more than trees and flowers. But she can sense water -- a fair amount of it, too, like a small pond -- and she doesn’t have to follow it far before she sees him.
Zuko is next to the pond, his back to her. He’s smaller than she’s ever seen him, and not just because he’s sitting down. His hair is long enough to brush his shoulders, even pulled up into the traditional topknot. Like his uncle, he is dressed in Fire Nation red and gold, but the cut of his robes looks different to her untrained eyes -- Earth Kingdom style, perhaps? Surrounding him are half-a-dozen turtleducklings, and the wave of affection that sweeps over her freezes her in place.
“Hey now.” She recognizes that mildly scolding tone, even if his voice is a little different than the one in her memory. “You have to share with your sister. You’re not getting more seeds just because you’re bigger.”
Katara tries to say something, but it seems all the words she wants to say are trying to come out at once, and have jammed up in her throat. She stumbles back half a step.
The crunch of the gravel under her feet gets his attention. His head turns slightly in her direction, then he’s leaping to his feet, turning towards her --
Oh.
He doesn't have the scar.
For one moment, Zuko stares at her with wide eyes. Then in the next, he’s closed the gap between them, pulling her into the tightest hug she’s ever had. Katara wraps her arms around him and buries her face into his shoulder. “Katara,” he breathes, and a little sob escapes her at the familiarity and warmth in that single word.
“Zuko,” she manages. Her voice wobbles but does not break on the name like she thought it might. “Oh, Zuko.”
He pulls back too soon, but he cups her cheek with one hand while the other brushes her hair out of her eyes. Katara tries to smile at him, but it’s hard when every emotion of the past three years wants to pour out at once. Instead, she reaches up and gently touches his left cheek. The skin is smooth and whole under her fingers.
Zuko closes his eyes, but not before she catches a flash of pain. Immediately, she knows what must have happened. Why he has no scar. How Ozai must have died.
“I thought I was dreaming at first,” he says hoarsely. “I told him off. Yelled at him for being a terrible father and a worse Fire Lord. Then -”
Katara shakes her head and pulls him back to her. This time he’s the one to bury his head in her shoulder. “I know,” she tells him, her throat still choked. “I know. I did too.”
Later, she thinks, she’ll tell him about Yon Rha. About how in her determination not to relive the worst day of her life, she had pulled on his blood with a ferocity she had only seen herself use in nightmares. What his corpse had looked like, afterwards, and the look on her mother’s face. How what had once been a fantasy of power and relief had, if only for a little while, become a horrifying reality. Maybe she’ll finally find the words to describe the contradictory emotions that have been warring in her ever since, but even if she doesn’t, it will be okay, because now she has someone who will understand.
For the moment, she holds him close as they both succumb to tears.
#zutara month#my writing#zutara#day 30: time loop/time travel#zuko x katara#zuko#katara#a:tla#s: eight#zutara month 2024
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Tag Game Tuesday: 911 Lone Star Fandom Edition
Thank you for the tags! @thisbuildinghasfeelings @rmd-writes & @goldenskykaysani
When did you first start watching Lone Star? Who or what introduced you to the show?
I first started watching LS around the 2nd or 3rd episode of season 1 after seeing some adorable gifs of Owen & TK floating around on my tumblr feed.
I wish I could find out who patient zero was that first brought them to my attention from my follow list, but I think it must've been someone from the Skam fandom? maybe?
Which season is your favorite?
Season 3, baby!! and ngl, I highly doubt anything will top it at this point just based off where the plots have gone since.
Who is your favorite character? (Bonus: If you answered TK or Carlos, who is your favorite besides them?)
I mean - y'all knew what the answer would be to this one, right? Obviously Paul is my favorite.
I do also really love TK. I know I have a reputation for loving Paul because I get very animated about him LOL... but I would like to put TK in my pocket and keep him safe forever, thank you.
Top five episodes. Go!
3.13
2.09
3.08
2.08
3.04
If you could pick any character to be given a "begins" episode, who would it be and what would that episode look like?
Paul. One hundred percent, I need it from Paul. I know everyone and their brother is going to or has answered Carlos for this and that tracks for a tarlos based fandom... but my unpopular opinion is that we've gotten quite a bit of character backstory for him this past season compared to some others like Nancy, Paul, and Marj. I feel like Paul has been part of the core group since the beginning but hasn't seen the amount of meaty plots as some of the others have. He's due!
What is a scenario or storyline that you would like to see in season 5?
Okay, I have two ideas for this:
- an episode in which some of the characters who rarely interact are somehow trapped together due to some kind of emergency/disaster/storm and must navigate their way out together while the rest of the team helps from the outside. There are a few groupings we could use for it, but I personally would have the potential pairings be one of the following (or all three at once??): Paul & Tommy... TK & Grace... Judd & Carlos. I feel like these 3 pairings are people we don't get to see interact one-on-one often (or at all) and it would be super fun!
- a true HEAT WAVE. they very briefly had that heat thing happen in 4x01 but I want a whole episode about a temperature heat wave and how first responders have to deal with them. this is TEXAS, c'mon. Plus the theme of heat throughout the episode could pop up in various character's stories. Tarlos = sexy heat. One of the firefighters = heat in the form of pressure in their job like a promotion of some kind. etc.
What do you think is going on in this still?
I have absolutely no fucking clue 😂 So I will instead direct you to this wonderful little spec fic by @littlemissmarianna
As much as I hate everything to do with the Gabriel plot and tbh am not excited to see its continuation... if they manage to pull something off like that fic, I might actually enjoy some of it!
We all know about the elusive 5x05 spicy scene that has been teased, so what is your prediction for how it could possibly top 1x02?
... soooooooo I must confess something here...
*whispers* I don't actually know all about the elusive 5.05 spicy scene. someone needs to fill me in. I have not been paying attention to spoilers & speculation as much this time around since last season's speculation went so terribly for me 🤭🤣
Where was the Tarlos honeymoon in your mind?
Something about Carlos "getting homesick after a weekend in Branson" just tickles me. and the sarcastic way TK talks about the idea of Carlos wanting to travel the world also just amuses me to no end...
so this paired with the way the wedding went down, I think TK wouldn't want to make Carlos travel very far. or leave his mother so soon. I think TK wants his husband to feel as safe and comfortable as possible and so they spend a weekend at a nice spa/resort near Austin. Some place like this: Miraval Austin and then spend the rest of their honeymoon week bundled up together at home.
Shoutout one of your favorite fan creations.
for fics, I'm gonna be a little lazy here and link some of my previous themed fic rec lists:
but truly there are some wonderful fics in those lists!!!
For some fanart:
- this one by @whatsintheboxmh is one of my faves. ankle grab my beloved. 🥺🥰
- this one of s5 TK by @fitzherbertssmolder is so adorable!
- this one of BUTTERCUP! by @greentealycheejelly is absolutely precious.
- this one of Paul & Marjan!! by @heartstringsduet is amazingggg. give me all the paul fanart
- this one of Grace by @yorit1 is stunning.
I'm not sure who has already done this, but I'm gonna tag some mutuals that I don't think I've seen it from yet (no pressure though!!) @lemonlyman-dotcom @herefortarlos @tkstrandreyes @three-drink-amy @littlemissmarianna @mikibwrites @alrightbuckaroo
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someday when you're in college you may be registering for classes and see a 'TBD' next to the professor category on a class you're required to take. and you will hear a little voice in your head saying 'just take the class anyway, it can't be that bad. surely the school i'm putting myself in debt to go to wouldn't hire someone who doesn't know how to teach.' that voice is the devil. do not listen
#RIPS MY FUCK>ING HAIR OUTTTTT#WHAT KIND OF PSYCHOPATH PUTS A TWENTY MINUTE TIMER ON FOR EACH INDIVIDUAL PERSON'S CRITIQUE. IN WHAT WORLD IS THIS A GOOD IDEA#i already complained about this to everuone who knows me bc it happened last night but i just had a 1.5 hour crit and it reignited my rage#because why did TEN PEOPLE take us FIVE HOURS TO GET THROUGH CRIT. WHYYYYYYYYYYY#torture. literal psychological torture is what i experienced last night. for real#and tonight i had a very similar crit with the same amount of people with a different prof and it took ONE AND A HALF HOURS.#LIKE GOD INTENDED.#jesus christ. do not go to art school#personal
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Regarding Claude and Leonie's support vs Dimitri and Yuri's: On one hand yes, Claude feeling that he can't do this himself shows that he should learn to move out of his bubble more, as Dimitri shows that being a king doesn't limit one's ability to mingle with the commoners on a personal level. But on the other hand, I still like that he gives his people a voice through Leonie - another commoner, and one of the most commoner student in the game (no experience as a rich merchant, or a famous diva, or a noble's adpoted child - she's one of the exceedingly few characters that has NO experience being any kind of well-off). It shows that he does still care for them, even if he feels like he isn't allowed to attach himself to them on a personal level - speaks to his character overall really, that he genuinely cares about the people around him but something in HIM stops him from connecting to others as much as he wants to.
He's more disconnected from the commoners than Dimitri is, but it's something he acknowledges and something he's working on in his own way - and that way involves his friends! It involves TRUSTING his friends to help him!! - and that's kinda neat to me. Well, until the game decided that actually he hates having any responsibility and that he wants to run away from all of the work he gave himself before blaming his own actions on an innocent woman that he's going to brutally slaughter for no reason. Since Hopes is apparently deathly allergic to even the CONCEPT of basic consistency.
damn i was gone from tumblr for so long that i didn’t know asks could get this long lmao
Oh I do like that Claude is getting help from commoners. That at least is a very normal thing for Claude to do.
I do feel like it was pretty odd for him to take on all that work and then continuously make jokes about not wanting to do it. It was consistent enough that it sounds like he actually regrets it, and iirc there was a quick mention implying he might?
Part of what aggravates me about the way Claude was written in this game is that yeah, he blames what he does on everyone else, such as “they wouldn’t surrender” or “they have to surrender so there are fewer causalities or else it’s their fault if people die”. I hate that he takes no responsibility for invading other people’s lands and pulls the “it’s their fault” card when really, Faerghus was minding its own business. It’s not Dimitri’s fault that people die in a war that he didn’t start. He was working on Faerghus’ politics and defending from the Empire. You can’t go to someone’s house, rob them while armed and then go “it’s your fault your family died because you wouldn’t give me your valuables”. That’s just stupid, and Claude isn’t supposed to be stupid.
Another thing that bothered me was just the overall lack of consistency in the second half. In the first half he was fine, but in the second half they made it a point to make him not want to sacrifice people and the stuff we’re used to, but then he’d turn around and do something terrible and blame his enemies for it. The only thing he took responsibility for was Randolph because all his allies got pissed about that, but if they didn’t get mad at him, he didn’t really care about what he was doing/who he had to kill.
There are times when he does seem to genuinely care regarding not wanting to kill people, but his excuses for the people he does kill always cast the blame on the actual victims. I don’t think he’s heartless, but he definitely lacks any kind of decency. Claude’s always been the type to do whatever was necessary to win as long as it didn’t involve causalities, and if it had to that would be because they were being attacked first.
For instance, he was really upset in SB when tons of people died because he insisted on fighting Leopold and the Empire still got him out of that fight alive. He wondered if they should’ve just surrendered to the Empire in the first place because it would’ve saved lives, but Hilda reminds him that the people in the Alliance would never have gone for that without putting up a fight first. In that situation, he’s upset about it but he was in the right to fight back. People died, yeah, but because he was trying to defeat the strongest general in the invading army.
It’s not Claude’s personality that I don’t like in this game. I think his general characteristics and behavior are pretty standard for what we’d expect. I just hate how they made him be the one to make all the questionable choices and do things that disregarded his morals. Even Edelgard, at least in SB, isn’t as bad as he is in GW in some ways. In SB it also seems more like Claude allied with her because he was so defeated and stressed out from their losses that he gave up. In GW, he’s a lot crueler and while I think Claude can be dubious from time to time, I don’t think he’s supposed to be outright cruel.
Like, I’m sorry but guilt tripping Ashe to join them and making Ashe question his choices for the entire rest for the game was just painful to watch. Ashe hated betraying Faerghus and probably would’ve gone down fighting if Dimitri hadn’t told him to prioritize his life over his loyalty. Claude obviously knew Dimitri was like that and used it against Ashe to make Ashe stop fighting, but it wasn’t like “you can surrender, give us the stronghold and we’ll let you live”. It was “you can surrender and join our army and actively fight against your friends or die”. When it comes to Claude, I would expect him to lean far more toward the end of “just surrender and leave” not “join our army and help us slaughter your friends :)”. Even Yuri calls him “vicious” for it.
Something I noticed was that throughout GW, the characters in camp were questioning Claude’s choices very regularly. It got to the point where a lot of people were disgusted with his choices. That does mean the writers are self aware, and that bugs me even more tbh.
It feels like they wanted to try something new with Claude but didn’t really know exactly how to pull it off, and it just feels like a convoluted mess. I want to like Claude in Hopes just because... he’s Claude and I like Claude, but it’s so damned difficult when he does half the shit he does.
#I also don't recall if the writers were new and not the same from Houses#or if there was one person from the previous writing team there and the rest were new?#I think I heard something about it not being the same writing team and I also think#I heard something about one of the old writers being there to help with it? so idk what's true in this case#It makes me sad because this is the last we'll see of these characters and I feel like for many people#this will leave a bad taste in their mouths for Claude's character#I REALLY don't expect another game/spinoff related to Fodlan#the closest thing we'd get is new Heroes alts and whatever DLC will pop up with Hopes#other than that tho I'm not sure how else they'd manage to milk this series in particular#without at least worrying about backlash from people who are tired of seeing Fodlan and co#I mean I wouldn't necessarily mind bc I love Houses and it's within my top five FE games#but I know people are gonna get bored of it much faster than me which in my case is largely bc I love the characters#I guess in the future we might end up with like... maybe another spinoff/Warriors crossover#where we get some Houses characters with other FE characters since that's what the original FE Warriors game was#that at least I could see happening and it would prob be based on Houses and not Hopes#or just some new crossover/spinoff game entirely but... other than that I wouldn't expect another Fodlan game#also they rly need a world name and not just a continent name because there are tons of known continents in this game fjkadsg#Three Hopes Spoilers#DCE Ask
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The Morning After
Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader
Word count: 700 ish?
Warnings: Mentions to sex, hickeys, naked people, Simon wanting you for breakfast
Summary: The morning after a steamy night.
Sunlight creeps in through the curtains you never closed last night. The curtains fly around the room, pushed by the daring wind. The window’s are still open, letting in the chirps of birds outside. The wind pushes a breeze around the room and you shiver.
You’re laying on your right shoulder. There’s a heavy arm that isn’t yours draped across your waist. There’s a head tucked into the crook of your neck. There’s another forearm underneath your head. There’s someone’s heavy breathing going straight into your neck. You can feel a bit of stubble. You can feel hair, long, soft hair. You can feel a strong chest against your back. All of it is memorized in your mind.
And there’s only one person in the whole world who’s body you know inch by inch.
You squint as you open your eyes, the sunlight almost killing you. The duvet is all messed up, barely covering your tangled bodies. His right arm is underneath your head, draped off your side of the bed. His grip on your waist is loose, he’s still asleep. His breathing is even, you can feel it.
You push yourself out of bed slightly, making a move to shut the window and close the curtains. He grabs onto your waist tightly and pulls you back into the position you were in before. His voice is raspy, almost not even there, as he says, “Five more minutes.”
It should be illegal. His voice. His hair. His chest slowly falling and rising. It should be illegal to look this fucking good in the morning.
“Just wanna close the window,” You reply, keeping your voice hushed.
“Who gives a shit?” He pulls the duvet higher over you, covering your naked body from the wind. “There. Now, give me 10 more minutes.”
His hand goes back to your waist, covering the soft maroon and purple bruises that formed throughout the night.
So, you lay back down, take in a deep breath, and try to fall asleep.
At least an hour goes by before you finally wake up again. Your position hasn’t changed and Simon’s hold on your waist is loose again. You finally move, getting up from bed. He doesn’t pull you back this time, but rolls over. He lets out a groan. “Oh, shut up, you big baby. I gave you more than 10 minutes.”
He doesn’t respond. Just lets out another groan, but louder and longer.
You grab the shirt he wore last night, the one he threw into a random corner of the room, more focused on your body. You toss it into the hamper. His pants and boxers are thankfully close enough to the hamper, yours nowhere to be found. Guess he was a little too excited.
You walk into the bathroom, getting a fine look at yourself in the mirror.
Hickeys and the traces of fingertips line your neck and chest, your hips and legs are covered, and I mean covered, in bruises. On both sides of your hips are marks of large, muscular hands. The marks are red, and it doesn’t look like it’ll all fade in the next hour. You turn slightly, getting a look at your back. Your ass is marked the same way your hips are, with large hand prints, your back thankfully okay.
“You’re hurt,” Simon’s voice is barely above a whisper as he stares at you from the bed.
This happens every time he leaves a mark on you. He turns cold again, becoming distant in fear of hurting you again. Every single time. It takes so many words of encouragement to get him to open up again, assuring him it didn’t hurt.
“They’ll fade,” You shrug.
“I hurt you,” He whispers.
“No, you didn’t. Last night was probably one of the best nights of my entire life, love. Don’t you dare think I’m in any sort of pain or anything. I’m fine,” You smile at him. “And I left a fair share of marks on you. Look at your back.”
He lets out a soft chuckle, looking over at you again. “Promise?”
“Swear on my life,” You smile. “You want breakfast?”
“Mhm,” He hums, walking over to you and kneeling in front of you. “It’s already served.” Are his last words before diving in between your legs.
#simon riley fluff#simon riley#simon riley imagine#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley cod#ghost call of duty#ghost simon riley#ghost imagine#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost x you
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after dark — r.c.
pairing: ghostface!rafe cameron x fem!reader
warnings: smut 18+, unprotected sex, dubcon, violence, blood, murder, knife play, mask kink, hair pulling, spanking, cursing, toxic, controlling, manipulative and possessive behaviour, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, creampie, degradation, face slapping, dacryphilia, breeding kink
word count: 4.5k
summary: the bloodlust killer that has been terrorising the town could be closer to you than you might think.
moodboard // nav. // m.list // taglist
“Rafe?” you called out to your boyfriend who was attentively watching the TV from beside you on the couch, a deep sense of unease and concern in your voice. “Yeah, baby?” he replied, his eyes still glued to the screen as his warm hand moved to your thigh, giving it a squeeze to let you know that he was listening. “I’m… I’m scared” you murmured with your brows knitted, referring to the news report about a killer being on the loose, terrorising the entire town for weeks now. They played footage taken from a Ring doorbell camera that showed him wearing a black and white mask, identical to the one from the Scream movies to hide his identity, along with a full black outfit.
So far, there has been an estimated five victims, all of them male. Men between the ages of nineteen and twenty-six who are university students were the killer's primary target, it seemed. You were familiar with all of them— you had worked on group projects with a number of these people and even tutored two of them, helping them with subjects that you excelled at to earn some extra cash. To sum up, you saw all of the murdered male students regularly. Fear prickled over your skin as the reporter revealed more shocking details about the murders.
Rafe turned to face you, an empathetic smile swept across his handsome face as he moved closer to you, the palm of his warm hand resting on your cheek as he looked at you with his sparkling blue eyes. “Don’t be scared baby. You know I’ll take care of you, alright? I won’t ever let anything happen to my sweet girl” You fidgeted with your hands and looked down, letting his words sink in. Rafe always took care of you, ensuring that you were happy and healthy— he’d do anything for you. For the first time ever, though, you were unsure if Rafe could truly protect you from a bloodlust killer who has murdered men even bigger, stronger and more athletic than Rafe.
He looked off into the distance, thinking deeply as he released a hesitating breath, “Look, why don’t you stay with me here? Hmm? It’s too dangerous out there for a pretty girl like you. You’ll be safe here, I promise” you met his eyes again and nodded, feeling relieved that you can be with him every minute of the day.
Every minute of the day, that is, unless you were in class, because school life didn’t pause. Why it didn’t was a mystery to you, but the police stated that they had everything under control, which you found hard to believe. It made you feel anxious to be distanced from Rafe during those times. You not only feared for yourself, but for him as well. It became impossible to concentrate in class. Knowing that anyone could become the next victim sent your mind into overdrive. No one was safe.
You took your phone out of your pocket and opened iMessage, scrolling through your conversations before tapping your and Rafe’s. You occasionally glanced up quickly to make sure the teacher wasn't watching you before typing a message.
You: I miss you so much :( Are you okay?
Rafe 💞: Miss you more, my pretty girl. I’m alright, just hanging out with Top.
His words still made you blush, your cheeks heating up as a tiny smile formed on your face before you quickly looked up, checking if anyone saw you texting. The teacher is lost in her own world, going over theories while you see several other students on their phones as well, evidently bored by the contents of the class. You returned your focus to your phone and started typing a new message.
You: Be careful, okay? I’m scared…
Rafe 💞: Baby, I won’t let anything happen to you, got it? You know I have your location on my phone. I will keep an eye on you. Buy yourself some pretty lingerie and I will help you relax when you get home ;)
Rafe Cameron transferred $500 to your bank account.
Your eyes grew wide before you let out a chuckle at how easily he gives you money when you don’t even need it. You hastily typed a ‘thank you’ message and slipped your phone back into your pocket with a giddy smile on your face before the teacher could notice you.
When class finally ended for the day, you felt a wave of relief, especially since John B, one of your friends, offered to walk you home—well, to Rafe's house. You and John B used to be closer, hanging out multiple times a week, but Rafe’s possessive and jealous nature doesn’t allow you to anymore. Even though you don’t hang out with him now, he still checks in on you from time to time, showing you that he still cares about you, which you appreciate a lot. When you first started dating, John B openly expressed his dislike for Rafe. Despite your numerous attempts to convince him that Rafe genuinely does take great care of you, John B couldn’t be convinced. Their animosity towards one another runs too deep.
The two of you were walking side to side as you approached Rafe's street, wandering by large villas with breathtaking front gardens. John B didn't appear in the least bit afraid or worried and you couldn’t understand why. Everyone, including yourself, was terrified, not daring to go outside unless needed. You eyed him with confusion as you were thinking it over, which he seemed to catch on right away. “What? Do I have something on my face?” he asked, a smile appearing on his face as he continued walking. “Are you not scared, John B?” You asked with curiosity. A small chuckle left his mouth before he shook his head, “Scared? Have you seen him? He wears a silly costume from some dumb movie.” It went silent for a while as you were at a loss for words, wondering how someone could not be afraid of a murderer.
John B soon ended the silence before you could go further into the topic, “Hey, remember when we rehearsed for that play? And we had to dance together and you-“ he laughs while holding his stomach, pausing for a moment to collect himself before continuing, “and you fell and ripped your clothes?” You felt your face heat up and an embarrassed smile crossed your lips before you hit him in the arm. Those were the memories you did not want to relive, embarrassing yourself in front of numerous students and staff members. “Oh stop it! First of all, it wasn’t even that funny and secondly, completely your fault, by the way” You responded, defending yourself but unable to hide your laughter.
“It went like this” John B said before he lifted you up and spun you around, causing you to scream and laugh hysterically. “Stop! I-“ you tried to yell at him but you were laughing too hard, your abdominal muscles hurting. You two giggled as he gently set you back down on the ground before you turned your gaze towards Rafe’s house and your face dropped instantly. Rafe was waiting for you, leaning against the doorframe and standing with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his face as he looked at you both.
You swallowed and gathered yourself quickly before putting on a forced smile and turning to face John B. But John B was staring back at Rafe with an equally as intimidating look on his face, so much so that he stopped noticing you. “Thank you for taking me home. I appreciate it” you said, attempting to defuse the tension before moving slowly in Rafe's direction— but both their eyes didn’t leave each other for a second. Every muscle in your body tightened and the tension in the air was apparent.
You walked up to Rafe, ascending the stairs to his enormous home's front door. “H-hi baby, missed you” you spoke as you drew nearer to him, a whiff of his signature cologne filling your nose. You looked back at John B and saw him heading to his own home, thankfully. Rafe rolled his eyes before he turned around and made his way inside the house. As you nervously followed him and silently shut the door behind you, your brows pinched in concern.
“Baby?” you whispered, trailing after Rafe into the house as you watched his back, his muscles prominent through the tight shirt he was wearing. “Are you angry at me?” You asked in a low voice, worried about the answer. He turned around and came up to you, his large hands cupping your face as he stared directly into your eyes. “I could never be angry at you, sweet girl. You’re my everything. Don’t ever forget that, alright?” he said before you nodded, a wave of relief instantly washing over you. He kissed you on the forehead and you closed your eyes to take in the moment, feeling lucky to have such a caring and sweet boyfriend, you thought. But then the night fell.
“Fuck! No, no, no!” A terrible nightmare about the killer had you breathing heavily when you woke up in the middle of the night. You immediately sat up straight, your chest heaving up and down as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. “Rafe?” You called out, desperate for his comfort and affection.
After a short while, there was still no response. Still feeling a little disoriented, your brows knitted as you attempted to sort through your thoughts. But something felt off. You extended your arm around the bed but there was nothing but pillows next to you. This is when you started to feel a little panicked and horrible thoughts pierced your mind like needles jabbing at your skin. “Rafe?!” you called out again in fear, a little louder this time with still no response. You hastily turned on the light, a perplexed frown appearing on your face. The bed was empty. Rafe was usually a very deep sleeper so waking up in the middle of the night wasn’t anything like him. You pushed the blanket off of yourself and stood up, turning off the light again before carefully leaving the room to investigate the situation.
The only sound you could hear as you wandered around his house was the clock ticking as you made your way to the stairs, slowly walking down. His enormous house was terrifying at night, your trembling, sweaty hand gripping the railing tightly. You gasped at hearing heavy footsteps coming from the kitchen downstairs. Tears started forming in your eyes, afraid that anything had happened to Rafe. Scenarios played in your head of the killer entering the house and taking Rafe, torturing him or even worse, murdering him.
When you got to the bottom of the stairs, you took your time making your way to the kitchen while holding your breath. The footsteps became louder now as you approached the person. You were so scared and worried about what you might find behind the wall that tears were streaming down your face. You approached the kitchen cautiously and peeked inside. It took you a few blinks to get used to the darkness, but you exhaled deeply in relief when you saw Rafe in the kitchen, unharmed. Thank god. You reasoned that he must have gotten hungry or wanted to grab a glass of water. You hurried into the kitchen to hug him tight and take him back into bed immediately.
“Rafe? Baby? I saw you weren’t in bed so I-“ you began, feeling relieved to see your boyfriend standing in front of you before your jaw fell as you stood there, unblinking, trying to process what you were seeing. “Rafe…” You gulped and stared in horror, taking in the black and white mask he was holding in addition to the fresh blood on his body. You blinked a few times, thinking you must be still in a dream, but that wasn’t the case— Rafe was still standing in front of you, equally as shocked before he slowly approached you.
“I can explain” He whispered softly, wary of what to say. His expression showed panic as he hurriedly placed the mask down on the table. “Okay, okay, it’s all good. We got this” he mumbled to himself as he rubbed his temples, letting out a frustrating moan. Fear coursed through your body as you stood there motionless and terrified. “Baby, listen, alright? Sometimes-“ he began, pacing around the kitchen at this point, “Sometimes things just gotta happen. We don’t always have a choice, got that? And- and, I just gotta protect you- gotta protect you from all those bad men who wanna take you away.” Your legs felt weak and all kinds of emotions shot through your body. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything. Your breathing quickened as Rafe continued his ramblings. “I just- I just can’t let that happen, alright? You’re my sweet and innocent girl. I can’t let anyone take you from me, never.”
Your trembling hand moved to your mouth and your eyes grew wide when it finally clicked whose blood it was on Rafe. “Rafe? Is that…” you gulped, secretly hoping you were wrong. “Is that John B’s blood?” he turned around quickly and locked eyes with you. “Baby, you know I didn’t have a choice, okay? I had to do it. I need to protect you, protect you from all the evil in this world” He said, trying his best to convince you. You blinked a few times, tears streaming down your face as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. Everything was difficult for you, your head hurting. But you loved Rafe. He was everything to you. He took care of you. He looked after you. In the end, he was the one who was always there for you no matter what. You needed him. You wiped the tears from your face using your shirt's sleeve and glanced back at him, nodding. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and you could see the relief immediately wash over him.
“But…“ Your heart was pounding out of your chest and your mind was racing with a gazillion thoughts. “But what if anyone saw you?” Taking the mask off the table, Rafe covered his head with it. “That’s what this is for” he said, his voice muffled by the mask. You looked him up and down, examining every inch of him, from the ghostface mask to his blood-covered body, the muscles emphasised by his tight outfit. Fuck. You felt something happening inside of you. It wasn't worry or fear— it was something else. Rafe’s masked head tilted as he stared at you, trying to read your expression.
“Wait a minute…” he began, moving closer, “I know that look” Rafe chuckled and he approached you slowly as you took a step back with each step he took forward before your lower back hit the kitchen counter. His face came closer to yours as your breath hitched. He reached over to the kitchen counter beside you, grabbing the knife from next to you and putting it under your chin to lift your head up. “You dirty fucking slut. I see what’s happening here” His face drew nearer, whispering into your ear, “you’re turned on by this.”
“W-What?” you said, trying to sound confused but you couldn’t deny it, you knew he was right. The pointy end of the knife slightly dug into your skin. Instead of feeling scared, you could feel your core aching for him. “Don’t act stupid. God, you’re even more fucked up in that little head of yours than I thought” Rafe chuckled before he took the knife from under your chin and slipped both hands under your ass, hauling you up quickly and tossing you over his shoulder with ease while holding the knife in his hand. You let out a small squeal before he walked you both towards the bedroom.
“Tonight, I’m gonna have to show you who the fuck you belong to.” Rafe stated in a low voice through his mask, causing you to feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. You felt ashamed, as well as a horrible person. Your skin was stained with blood at this point— John B’s blood. But as much as he was your friend, Rafe was your boyfriend, your caregiver, your everything. And you started to think that maybe… maybe he was right. Maybe you need someone to protect you, to keep the bad men away. Maybe Rafe saw something in John B that you didn’t— in the end, you knew Rafe only ever wanted the best for you. You both loved each other forever and always, and apparently, that went as far as killing for you.
Rafe threw you onto the bed after pushing open the door to his bedroom and shutting it behind him. You slightly bounced on the bed before you turned around, resting on your elbows as you looked at him with big, innocent eyes. He stood in front of you, his arms folded and the moonlight seeping through the cracks of the blinds, illuminating your boyfriend’s menacing demeanour— the blood-stained black and white mask, a knife gripped in his right hand, and the slightly torn black outfit, indicating that John B tried to fight for his life. The only features of your boyfriend’s face visible were his blue eyes, gazing directly at you.
“You’re gonna be a good girl and listen to me, alright?” he said, with a harsh and intimidating tone. You nodded as you swallowed, anticipation raging through your body. He slightly tilted his masked head, thinking about what he was going do with you till an idea struck. He approached you slowly, footsteps heavy due to his boots. His right hand played with the knife, showing that he had plans with it. He leaned over you when he was close enough, then slid the knife under your shirt. Gazing at him with wide eyes, you gasped as he quickly tore apart your clothes, leaving you only in your bra and underwear.
“Prettiest fucking girl I have ever seen. Fuck, I am so lucky.” He now placed the knife under the straps of your bra and sliced it open, then he did the same to your underwear and tossed it aside. You let out a small whine, and he turned to face you immediately. “That… that was my favourite set” You sulked as you gazed at the shredded lingerie set lying on the floor. Rafe simply chuckled before he gripped your face forcefully, turning you to look at him. “Don’t be fucking dumb, you know I can buy you every single lingerie set that you want in the whole fucking world.”
Before you could say anything else, he grabbed your body and turned you around, placing you on your hands and knees with your ass facing him. You were soaking at this point, your wetness dripping onto the mattress. You suddenly felt the cold knife against your core, gathering the wetness as you shivered and tried to remain motionless. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re dripping. You could’ve just told me you had some fucked up kink for killers, you know. Would’ve made it a lot easier for me” Rafe taunted, and you just knew he was smirking under that mask.
“Grip the sheets baby, maybe even bite them if you need to. Dunno how high your pain tolerance is.” he said, causing you to worry for a moment as your hands clutched the sheets under you. “But I guess we’re about to find out.” He slapped your ass swiftly before you felt the sharp knife against the skin of your ass, digging into the flesh. Your eyes closed and your teeth clenched together as you hissed at the sensation.
“R… A…” he began, as he carved his name into your skin. “It- it hurts” you cried out as you gripped the sheets. “Nuh-uh, not done yet. F…” he continued, unaffected by your whines and pleads. “E…” When he was done, he stood back to admire his work of art. “All done. Looks pretty good if I say so myself.” he said with a satisfied tone. Your eyes began to well up with tears as a result of the stinging in your skin. “All fucking mine.” He said before throwing the knife on the ground.
“On your knees in front of me. Now” he ordered, and you didn’t waste a second before you were sitting on your knees on the ground, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. His gloved hand brushed over your face before gripping your chin, “You are nothing but my dirty whore. Got that? My property. And I will kill anyone that gets in the way.” You nodded, feeling desperate for him. He undressed himself, leaving him completely naked except for the mask on his face. You observed him— the muscles on his toned body, the blood splatters, his hard cock leaking precum. You needed him.
“Make yourself useful for once” he growled, before slapping your cheek and causing you to hiss. “Suck.” was all he said as he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you towards him. You started by swirling your tongue over the tip and around the length of his shaft, causing him to throw his head back and grunt. He became impatient quickly, as he pushed your head further down, his cock hitting the back of your throat. “Juuust like that, princess, doing so good for me.”You were momentarily taken aback by his sweet words, but you weren’t unfamiliar with his mood swings. You knew what to do to get him to praise you— being a good girl and doing what he says, at all times. You never wanted to disagree with Rafe or reject him. You'd go to any lengths for him.
“Holy fuck” he growled as you continued bobbing your head, saliva running down your face. He had a strong grip on your hair as he fucked your face while you held on to his thighs. He let out a grunt before shoving you off him right before he could cum, sending you stumbling backwards a little. He gestured with his head for you to get back on the bed as he grabbed the knife from the ground. You hurriedly returned to the bed and waited for him on your hands and knees before he positioned himself behind you. He then slapped your ass, making you cry out as the cuts from earlier made it sting even more.
“Aww, does that hurt, princess?” he asked, running a hand over the spot he had just slapped as you nodded, trying to hold back the tears that were starting to well up in your eyes. “But my girl can handle that, right?” he said as he teased your core with his fingers. “My girl can handle anything, as long as she got me.” he unexpectedly slipped a finger into you, causing you to moan out at the feeling. He moved in and out before adding another one, pushing his fingers knuckles deep into you. You arched your back as he curled his fingers and moved them against your g-sport skilfully. Rafe was amazing at fingering, making you squirt and cum countless times. But he quickly pulled out before you could even feel your release nearing, causing you to whine. “I know baby, I know. But I need you to cum around my cock, alright?”
He grabbed your hips and positioned himself at your entrance before he pushed into you in one quick thrust without any warning. You gasped as he buried himself into you balls deep. “Always so fucking tight. Fuuuck” Rafe groaned as he watched his cock disappear into your body. He wasted no time by thrusting in and out of you right away as he stretched you out completely. You felt a hint of pain but it was soon overpowered by pleasure. He set a steady and rough rhythm, massaging your walls perfectly.
“You’re gonna be mine forever, got that? No one will ever get to touch you.” he said as he gripped a handful of your hair and yanked your head towards him. He took the knife from beside him, but you were too cock-drunk to even notice it while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You unexpectedly felt the icy blade against your throat, causing you to gasp. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” he whispered into your ear, his voice muffled because of the mask as he continued his brutal thrusts along with the sharp knife against your throat. You felt your release building as your wetness trickled down the sides of your thigh. His cock felt so deep inside of you, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.
“Gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you, sweet girl, you’re gonna be leaking my cum for days.” he growled with one hand firmly gripping your hip and the other holding the knife. “Even better if a baby starts growing in that pretty body of yours, so I can fully claim you as mine.” His words made you even more aroused and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release. “I’m c-close” was all you could manage to say as you heard him groan from under the mask.
“Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the dirty slut you are” his words were enough to push you over the edge as your orgasm washed over you, causing you to see stars and your body to shake. You cried out with your mouth agape as you clenched around his cock. “Good fucking girl”
You could feel his hips stagger and lose rhythm, knowing he was close as well. One last powerful thrust and you could feel his warm cum painting your walls, milking every last drop of his seed inside of you. The grip on your hips tightened, nails digging into your skin as he rode out his high. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” he cursed while panting. You collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You attempted to get up but rafe quickly stopped you, gazing at you through the mask.
“Oh, we’re not done yet.” he chuckled, before flipping you onto your back and caging you between his arms, “Round two, princess.”
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My superpower is that I get so obsessed with something that I cannot stop thinking about it long enough to sleep. It's also not a superpower and actually is a curse
#This rp server I spectate in has irreversibly changed my brain. And my sleep schedule. I need mental help#Nebbie posts#Nebbie text posting#Send fucking post#it is four thirty am here and I have to bike to school tomorrow. I'm gonna be sick#Wanna hear my ideas? My fucking Ideas? I've got Ideas wanna fucking hear?#First my oc VK who I've talked about once and never made a ref sheet for has a full name now. She's not just initials anymore#Did you know? In a post apocalyptic setting VK would grab a fucking musical instrument and learn to play it and start singing to cope#Little buddy is there for moral support and is also the only other thing that keeps her going aside from badly singing Turquoise October#One and Disc are. Actively becoming the worst power couple in the world. Awful awful people who would kill you for sport#At least One has trans swag though. He's still obsessed with makeup and fashion and turf wars even when the world ends#No ideas for the inkling guy who's unnamed or any other minor splat ocs I've got. Woo#Driving me actively insane. This rp server is driving me crazy insane in a positive way. If only I had the guts to actually tell anyone#I need to scream somewhere about it. Praying no one from that server looks at my blog ever. Or just specifically this post#I told them I read every single rp message in the server (5k+) and like. That I really liked it but#How do you tell someone that something they do has like. Chemically changed you to an extreme extent. How can I ever say that#They're like STRANGERS I've said like FIVE words to them. It's like I walked in on a FAMOUS person#The parasocial is. I want to actually be friends with these people they're so cool but I've put myself into a parasocial thing#They've already got an established friend group and like. I've never been able to join an established friend group#I did it ONCE in middle school by fucking LUCK and it's never happened again. Spect 7 was my magnum opus#I tried to join a friend group one time in the Hollow Knight community and then it just crashed and burned so.#I guess I've just got a doomsday sort of view of interacting with people now. I've never had it work out before#God damn. Earlier I was thinking that past 3am is my poor decision making time and it's so true. Fuck. God damn#Whatever. I need a 3am emotional rambling tag.#It's 4am but whatever#To clarify ig. You can reblog this because the actual post is funny (to midnight me at least) just pretend these tags don't exist lol
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Genshin Angst Headcanons - Why the two of you broke up
Note: Had an unexpected free day! I haven't written in a while, please excuse the mistakes, if any.
Disclaimer at the end of the post
Warning: Some are pretty predictable. Each of them have their own issues, lore wise, so some are lore heavy. You might not agree with some of them, but its how I see it, so to each their own. Let me know what you think! Some are quite angsty. Some scenes it's you breaking up with him and some are vice versa. Didn't feel like writing Razor, Venti and Xingqiu.
Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader
Personal Favourites in this work: Lyney, Itto, Kazuha
Aether
Sister issues. Enough said.
He realized he didn't have enough time to spare romancing with someone.
Somewhere along the way he felt guilt that he was enjoying his time with you while his sister went through some sort of villain origin story that seemingly turned her bad.
Top off all the adventuring, searching, solving problems for other people that he did...Where did that leave you, exactly?
"...I'm sorry, Y/N... I just... I don't think this is the right time for me to be together with you,"
Albedo
Contrary to popular belief it wouldn't be his lack of time or extreme focus on his alchemical experiments that would break the two of you up. He knows how to manage his time.
It was the RESULTS of experiments and his research that would put him away from you.
The possibility that HE or his world, was way too dangerous for you.
How many "Albedos" did Rhinedottir really create? Was there more than three? Perhaps four, five? And what happens when you come face to face with another Albedo?
"I'm afraid...There are far too many dangers surrounding myself... There are answers that I can't find...and perhaps that's the reason why my answer is to part ways with you,"
Alhaitham
Too much of a nonchalant attitude.
He expressed some kind of interest in you...but it's like... once in a blue moon. 95% of the time you're not sure if he's really into you. It almost seems like he's more into that book he reads all the time.
Simply just not good at expressing himself. Like, at all. Hides behind a "whatever works" and "I don't care about what other people think of me" attitude, unfortunately that seems to include you.
Is so straightforward that sometimes it hurts, but he's really just telling the truth through logical analysis.
will act like the breakup didn't hurt nor affect him at all. In turn it hurts you instead.
"I see. So you've had enough of me... And you only spoke up now? Pointing it out earlier could've diverted us from this path...If that's how you feel already I suggest that we stop seeing each other,"
"That's it? You're not even going to try and work it out with me?"
"What's there to work out? You've made yourself clear. You're not satisfied with the way I treat you, and I'm afraid I'm not going to change the way I act just for your pleasure... It'd be more meaningful for you to find someone who fits your criterias,"
Ayato
entering a relationship with a noble was not as easy as one thought.
It's not just about being together forever and feeling lucky because Ayato is rich and your whole life is set, it's also the not fitting in, the etiquette, the whispers from townfolk that you were too ordinary for him, the work that you needed to do if you were to become his wife.
All that was not really a big problem for you, but Ayato seemed not to know of your struggles, he was extremely busy, and when he wasn't, he seemed to think that everything was well and fine, since you were getting all your basic needs met and even more.
"...So I'm sorry, Ayato. This is just... All too much for me. I'm sorry,"
"...I understand. Forgive me, it seems that I've overlooked a lot of things...Perhaps it is as you say, that it'd be better for us to grow apart rather than grow together,"
Baizhu
because he is a ticking time bomb, no matter which way he looked it's not going to end well for both of you.
He either dies early or lives forever. In both scenarios he anticipates that the two of you are just going to be in a world of hurt.
Besides, he didn't mean to get so attached to someone in the first place, he knew his quest for immortality was long and arduous. You didn't deserve to walk that difficult road too.
While breaking up, will conceal the fact that he's only thinking of you and will possibly hurt you in the process.
"I'm sorry, but it's for the best. I ask that you continue going forward without me, there's no space for you in my... ideal future,"
Bennett
We all know it...it's his bad luck. However, it wasn't YOU who had a problem with it, it was HIM.
You understood that his bad luck was just some extended part of him, plus it's not like it was always bad, there were a lot of good times too. Plenty!
But the guilt ate him up whenever the two of you were stuck in a seemingly impossible scenario and predicament, brought on by his luck. He just had enough of it one day.
"I...I can't keep doing this to you every day! It's not fair..."
will be on the brink of tears before he even starts.
"Maybe it's better if you find someone else to adventure with, Y/N, sorry...!"
runs away before you can even get a word in.
Chongyun
Thinks he's not good enough in every aspect. It's really, seriously not about you. He thinks he's lacking in everything. Strength, maturity, experience, confidence.
So badly wants to stay with you but feels like he's not good enough and thinks that you're better off with someone else.
"D-Don't misunderstand... It's not because I don't like you anymore... I just...Please find someone else!"
Cyno
his bad jokes and TCG addiction. just kidding, you're not that shallow.
A lot of people are intimidated by him being the General Mahamatra because he gives importance to justice. While you, who had seen a bit more of him than other people had, it seemed more of an obsession to uphold the Akademiya's law and integrity.
This was not a big problem to you, you liked how he was serious at work.
Until one day when you were accused of plagiarising one of your papers and Cyno was the one sent to give you a first offense warning. The Akademiya knew of your relationship, that's probably why they sent him, to make it harder on the two of you.
Cyno didn't listen to your explanations on how it was an honest mistake, he still gave you the warning that you "deserved"
From then on it had just been different between the two of you, so it was really a mutual breakup. Or so you thought.
"...After that, I just realized that maybe this isn't the right time for us... We're both working for the Akademiya, we both take our jobs seriously...Unfortunately that seems to just be getting in the way of us...I think it's best if we stop seeing each other,"
"...I see." he pauses for a minute, as if tossing your words in his mind. "I...agree. Parting ways would certainly make work easier for both of us...it's the professional thing to do,"
Dainsleif
Has not moved on from his past.
Sure, everyone has their own baggage to carry, their own history to live through...but Dainsleif has heavier things than that. He seemed to wake up every day thinking of Khaenri'ah and the days long past. Was it regret? Nostalgia? Loneliness? You didn't know. You just knew that he wasn't really completely THERE with you in the present. Part of him still lived in the past.
When you explained that you felt like the two of you were not moving forward together and that it seemed like he wanted to go back to the past instead, he got offended.
"...My past is something that I carry forever, you'd claimed that you understood that," he starts.
"I do! But carrying it with you and letting it drag you backwards are two different things!"
He falters for a moment, only to leave you with his last words before turning away from you forever: "You will never understand, the weight that I carry,"
Diluc
is too guarded. You'd been friends for a long, long, long, long time before he decided he could let you in enough and be more intimate with you.
Even then everything was going at a snail's pace, though you were extremely patient with him.
The biggest problem with Diluc was that the two of you would progress one day, take a step forward, and then the next day it was like the two of you took two steps back.
Example: The two of you went out for a simple stargazing excursion late one night, it was nice and he had been incredibly affectionate. The next day he had trouble even meeting your gaze, and disappeared to do his work. It was also a little awkward during dinnertime. This scenario had happened more than once.
Hint: the closer he got to you the more afraid he became, thinking that he would one day lose you too.
"I...I can't. I love you but I...I've waited far too long. I'm sorry. I'm tired of this endless chase for you!"
He couldn't even say a thing. He'd wanted to ask you to stay, to wait for him a little longer, but he already knew how incredibly selfish that would have been. Instead, he grimaced, and looked away from your gaze, trying to find something worthwhile to say. There was only silence for a few moments.
"Goodbye Diluc," that's when you turned away.
Gorou
worships Kokomi too much and your insecurities just kept circling around in your head.
You know its his job. You know he isn't like that but the problem was YOU and not him.
Simply said you let your insecurity eat up the relationship between the two of you.
You couldn't bring yourself to say that you were jealous of the way he admired Kokomi so you broke up with him with another reason in tow.
Unfortunately, you're not a very good liar face to face so you did a butthole move and actually broke up with him through a letter. You just couldn't face him and tell him why.
All you mentioned in the letter was that you needed time to think and be away from him, and told him not to worry because it was your problem, not his.
Poor Gorou reread that letter over and over, trying to understand what went wrong.
Heizou
is just a natural flirt. You're not sure if he's doing it on purpose or not and you're not sure if he's even aware he's like that.
Anyway you'd seen him getting overly friendly (just another word for flirting) with a few other people a couple of times. You didn't let it get to you the first, fourth or even eighth time but you realized that he KNOWS that you're watching him do that.
So you confront him about it, but he claims that it's just his way of gathering information from others. People like to hear good things and some people are more susceptible to flirtatious comments so he resorts to that for his investigation sometimes.
You didn't really completely buy it and even if you did, it's not like this was healthy for your relationship. You just couldn't make yourself comfortable with it.
*You just chalked it up to the two of you being incompatible.
"I'm just not comfortable with that...I don't think I have to say sorry for how I feel but...I'm sorry anyway because I know you're just doing your job... It's probably best if we part ways here..."
"Is there any way to change your mind?" he genuinely asks.
You only give a lopsided smile. "You're a detective, I think you already know the answer to that,"
Yet he didn't stop you from walking away.
Itto
Kept breaking promises because he was too airheaded or too occupied doing something "stupid" with the kids or with his gang.
Pretty soon it just felt like you were an afterthought while everyone else in his life took precedent.
Got a ramen date? Oops, sorry! Got caught up looking for a strong onikabuto in the forest!
Needed his help to move some things? Gah, he was vandalising the bulletin boards, so he's running a bit late!
What's more you didn't actually mind that carefree, airheaded side of him...but it really got to you when he couldn't even seem to make you a priority. Not once.
He only realized that when he came running, late again, and stood face to face with a crying you.
"Hey sorry Y/N, I was just--...Why are you crying?!" is completely dumbfounded and clueless, mostly because when he came late, you had always shrugged it off with a smile on your face, or so he thought. This time you had a completely different reaction.
"I hate you...*hic* I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"
Shocked beyond belief. It wasn't like you to just blow up like that, but he couldn't do anything except watch you turn and run away from him after that exclamation.
Kaeya
Sometimes you're not sure if he takes you seriously.
Recently, he's not where he says he is, you don't know why he doesn't just tell you where he is.
He said he'd be working late, but then you find out he's at Angel's Share.
He said he'll be at Angel's Share, but then you catch word from Jean that he's out on a late mission.
He said he's escorting a caravan to Mondstadt but he's actually on assignment in Liyue.
It came to the point where you altogether just stopped looking for him cause half of the time you couldn't find him. It's like he's avoiding you or something, which, actually, seems just about right since he's been so busy with "work"
It reached a breaking point when, for a week, you were unable to bring him the lunch you prepared...because he was not where he said he was going to be. It was starting to get annoying.
"I don't understand why you're lying to me! Why do you have to tell me you'll be at Angel's Share this afternoon when you're not? Do you realize you make me walk all the way there only to come all the way back with nothing achieved?"
"I'm sorry snowflake, that wasn't my intention," though he still chuckles despite knowing full well that you were about to turn away.
"You know what, let me know when you're ready to stop making jokes. Until then, don't bother contacting me,"
He just didn't expect you to actually walk away from him.
Kaveh
Entertains everyone and anyone. Naturally kind at heart, will stop for anyone in trouble...even that flirtatious man/woman who is clearly just pining for his attention.
No he doesn't quite realize this.
The same person had asked for his help at least 4 times now and all 4 times he had been happy to offer a helping hand.
The last straw was when he was invited into the stranger's house, they had apparently needed someone to help them move and re-arrange furniture and he did, working till almost dinner time.
You'd caught him right by the person's door, because Kaveh was actually honest and told you he'd be helping them today, but the person was clearly eyeing Kaveh rather flirtatiously.
"Come again next time," you heard the person say rather happily. Kaveh only replies with "If I have nothing else to do, I suppose,"
"Kaveh, they're coming onto you and you keep letting it happen!"
"I'm not certain what you're talking about...They just needed some help around their house, nothing suspicious happened at all. Even if there was, I won't let anything happen between me and a stranger!"
"Then STOP helping them!"
"There isn't anything wrong with lending a hand...It was a quick move of things, that's all,"
"How would YOU feel if I just went into someone's house and kept helping them "move" things?"
"...I would think that's nice of you,"
You actually threw your hands up. "Oh, forget it! You know what, for someone who LOVES helping others, you're not doing such a great job of helping ME," then walked away and never came back. "Good riddance,"
Kazuha
He's a wandering samurai. You knew what you were getting into but you didn't expect dating him to be so hard.
He was gone for weeks on end, and you were not getting on that boat with him. In essence the two of you were just not ready to follow each other to the end's of the Earth, and that was fair. The two of you were young.
Kazuha kind of saw it coming, whenever he visited you, you seemed less spirited and he had an inkling as to why. The time apart was just too much for you.
It was a rather clean break actually. A real mutual breakup that the two of you agreed on.
"...You could say it's just not the right time for us," you even managed to laugh under your breath and he did the same, though it was barely audible.
"...Mm. There are matters that you need to attend to here...and there are things that I need to do out there," he slowly stood up from his sitting position next to you and still gazed at you rather lovingly. "...Perhaps, in another world, you and I are bound together,"
You gazed back forlornly, "...Just not in this one, it looks like,"
Lyney
because he will always choose his siblings over you. Always.
Though that's not a bad thing because you also think that family is important...somewhere along the way you realized that family is the ONLY thing he had and saw.
Example: Lynette and you had gotten ill at the same time one winter morning. Perhaps it was the cold that was passing around Fontaine. Lyney had been so worried about Lynette, that he seemed to have forgotten about you for the next few days. In fact, Lyney didn't even realize that you caught the cold too. You had only heard from Freminet, who you happened to cross paths with, that Lynette was also ill.
You thought that incident was the end of it, but really it seemed that whenever Lyney wanted to hang out with you, Lynette had to be there too. You tried to understand...after all there's still that mystery of disappearing women in Fontaine.
The breakup was induced when Lyney completely forgot about your birthday, because Freminet's was around the same time as yours. You helped Lyney prepare everything for Freminet, and said nothing about your own.
You realized that there was nothing wrong with choosing family over everything else...but the problem here was that Lyney didn't even have space for you in the first place.
So you left without saying anything. You figured he'd get over it quick. You had even gone so far as to move away from the main city of Fontaine and out into another island, because what would you say if he found you? That you were jealous of his siblings? You weren't going to ruin a family like that and it wasn't right to make him choose...so you just left without a word.
Neuvillette
Had a whole brainrot for this man:
Part 1
Part 2
Scaramouche
surprisingly it's not his anger issues.
It's the way he wouldn't acknowledge your relationship. You wonder how you even got into one with him.
There's no public show of affection, but even behind closed doors it rarely happened.
You knew that he was going to be like that, and so you didn't mind it all that much.
It was getting a bit much though when, out in public, he would walk further in front of you and refused to walk next to you. When he pretended like he didn't even know you. When he didn't stop to help you even when another man had shown interest in you, bordering on uncomfortable.
The more time passed the more you simply felt unloved...but for some reason you still blamed yourself.
"...I...don't know. Maybe you find me undesirable, or just...unappealing. Maybe you're embarrassed of me or...or..." maybe you just didn't care in the first place, you thought to yourself.
There was a long silence. Of you turning your gaze away, of him still piercing into yours. And then...
"Tsk...don't waste my time...Leave if you want to leave, door's open,"
Tartaglia
This one is simple. It's his obsession for fighting plus his complete disregard for himself. It's a constant heart attack for you. At some point the anxiety is just too much for you to handle.
Imagine living every day just wondering if he's safe at the same time knowing that he just loves to look for trouble.
The foul legacy that you know of, he uses it with disregard as well, despite knowing that it wasn't good for him.
And there are even days where you know he was heavily wounded but didn't go to you, in an attempt to shield you from worry.
It's a constant battle trying to stay sane and unworried, until one day it all just becomes too much.
"...Nothing I say will change anything, Tartaglia. This is who you are...This is who you need to be..." you whisper while bandaging his knuckles. He lets out a short hum.
It was silent all up until you finished with his hand, you squeeze it gently. "...I love you but...I can't keep doing this to myself, I'm tired...more so than I have ever been before,"
He lets your hand slip away from his knuckles, and that was the last he saw of you.
Thoma
This one is also simple. He was always taking care of others and running errands for others that he sometimes just couldn't catch a break.
Just a classic case of not enough time for you since he had a job to do for the Kamisato Clan.
He knows it, and feels awful about it. So he's the one who makes the move.
"It hurts that I can't give you what you deserve, Y/N. This isn't it... You deserve more than this but I can't give you that and I'm sorry. Please look for the love that you deserve,"
Tighnari
Remembers everything. Can be critical of things you've done, specially if he thinks there's a better way to do it.
Simply said you just feel stupid in front of him sometimes.
He doesn't mean to, but he sometimes forgets to appreciate or give praise to the things that you do well and even if he does, it tends to be short lived compared to his constructive criticisms.
Pretty soon you felt like he only looks at the bad things you do, and never the good. Though he was really only trying to teach and guide you as an equal.
He in fact feels that you are one of the few people who can keep up educational conversations with him.
The problem is he kind of forgets that you're his lover, and that you would enjoy his praise and affection from time to time.
"Do you... Do you ever have anything nice to say other than 'good work' or 'great observation'?" the words were out of your mouth before you could hold yourself back. Sometimes it was tiring to feel like you weren't good enough.
There's a flash of surprise that crosses Tighnari's expression for a split second, before he recovers. "...Had I not been praising your work enough lately? My apologies... It has a lot of merits, I just thought that you wanted my opinion on how to make it better,"
You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again right after to ponder on his words. Somehow even that had managed to make you feel embarrassed. It was here you knew that the problem also lied within yourself.
"...Sorry, Tighnari...I think I'll need some time alone,"
He obliges quickly and asks. "That's reasonable. When would you like me to come back?"
"...Let me rephrase that... I need some time away. From us."
Xiao
Unfortunately there's a lot of things wrong here... his lack of affection. His aloof personality. His dedication to his yaksha duties. Despite that he does actually try to be gentlemanly or respectful of you.
The worst of it is that he didn't know how to be in a relationship, in other words he just wasn't ready for one, or perhaps he would never be ready for one.
He didn't understand that humans craved companionship and sometimes touch. He didn't understand that meant having to favour you over others, sometimes even putting you first over his yaksha duties.
Worst of it all was when he shut himself off from you, sometimes for days on end, when his karmic debt was too high. He only really did it to protect you, but never realized how isolated that made you feel.
When you confronted him about it, he felt attacked. Hiding away was the only way he knew how to cope...why couldn't you understand that?
"Let me help you, Xiao,"
"I don't need your help!" his tone would make you wince and just like that he disappears into a billow of smoke.
You never returned to Wangshu Inn after that. If he couldn't let you in, there was no use trying to knock on his heart. Xiao being Xiao, never sought you ought again either.
Zhongli
He had experienced so many things and you had listened to many a tales from him.
This is what caused you to realize that you hadn't even experienced life at all, and yet here you were willing to tie yourself down to him.
It just didn't feel like it added up. Here he was with all this knowledge of the world and here you were who had never even stepped outside of Liyue. By no means were you stupid, but you felt that you could be better not only for him, but for yourself if you learned more.
There was just such a huge gap in life experiences, and though you never expected to get to his level (he was a God who had lived for a long time, you would never catch up to him) you at least wanted to see what was out there with your own eyes instead of through his stories.
He understood that wholeheartedly, and had no qualms in letting you go.
"You will always have a place with me, Y/N. No amount of lifetimes will change that,"
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Disclaimer: Relationships will always have some sort of problem along the way, maybe big, maybe small but I just want to reiterate that breaking up is not always the solution. Communicating is very important. So to those of you who like taking fanfiction too seriously, let it be known that this is just a work of fiction. I don't actually suggest breaking up with someone as soon as there is the slight indication of a problem (Just saw someone commenting on a similar themed post for Haikyuu that this wouldn't happen in the real world if both parties were mature... I mean, sure, but, idk, you must be fun in parties... it's called fiction for a reason...)
#genshin angst#genshin breakup#genshin headcanons#lyney x reader#genshin impact angst#lyney angst#neuvillette angst#neuvillette x reader#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham angst#cyno angst#cyno x reader#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche angst#diluc angst#tartaglia angst#itto angst
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OLD GRUDGES (part 1)
A/N: wooohoooo im bringing something new!!! i feel like it happens so rarely it's like a miracle lol anyway, this will be hopefully a couple of parts (probably about 3) and lets all pray i will actually finish it lol
WORD COUNT: 3.7k
WARNING: sexual content
SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.
MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST
Everyone loves Harry Styles. It’s a known fact, not just amongst the people who actually know him, but all around the world. He is known as one of the most unproblematic celebrities, someone who gives just as much if not even more respect as he gets, always kind and patient with others, rarely loses his temper. It’s hard to imagine that there is anyone walking this planet who doesn’t see him as a lovable, sweet man.
Well, it might be hard to imagine, but there is actually one person who has a very different opinion when it comes to the british popstar.
And that person is music producer, Y/N.
The interesting thing is that their history goes way back into his 1D days. Y/N was an up and coming name in the industry, just started working with bigger names when she got the chance to produce several songs on the band’s third studio album. Harry remembers her as a bubbly, funny girl who is passionate about her job and is also excellent in it. Working with her was easy and motivating, she was always eager to perfect songs to an extent Harry couldn’t even imagine and that’s why songs like Story Of My Life, You & I and Midnight Memories were such hits. Y/N put her heart and soul into them, which eventually earned all the recognition they deserved.
Harry loved working with Y/N and she was in talks of working on their fourth album as well, but the deal ended up ditched and she went on to do other projects and they somehow had a fallout. It was a shame, but he hoped his path would cross hers again.
Years and years went by and so much changed by the time their professional ways finally met again. Jeff brought her name up when Harry just started writing for his fourth solo album and Harry gave him the go to do whatever it takes to get her on the project. A few weeks passed and Harry didn’t get any confirmation about her and just when he was about to bring it up to Jeff, he hit him with the news.
“Y/N is in for five songs. Contract should be signed by Wednesday and you can start working next week.”
Harry wondered why it took so long to get her on board, but he brushed it off because he knew she was a big name now herself and had plenty of offers from which she could choose from. He was excited to work with her and simply see her again.
It was utter shock for him when she was the complete opposite of what he remembered. Okay, that might be an overstatement, but Harry could feel something was off instantly.
She was still bubbly and fun, but for some reason, she had a certain iciness and bitter attitude whenever her focus was on Harry. To anyone else it was unnoticable, Harry knows, because he asked Jeff about it.
“What are you talking about? She is awesome,” the manager said with a shrug and Harry tried to tell himself it was all in his head, because if Jeff doesn’t see it, it’s not real.
But it kept happening and it felt even stronger when it was just him and her in a room. Sometimes she even pretended like he wasn’t there, sometimes her snarky comments were all he got and they just strengthened him in his belief.
He wanted to ask her about it, he tried, several times, but his attempts just bounced right off her icy behavior so eventually, he gave up and there was only one thing left for him to do.
Return what he was getting.
Yes, it is childish, but he felt like he needed to deal with her unreasonable hatred towards him somehow and this was the easiest way. Was it a smart idea to practically become enemies when working together on his album? Of course not. But it just happened.
And going against each other became their thing.
They were great in arguing, disagreeing even when they could easily compromise, riling each other up and lashing out on each other when the tension had been building up for hours. It got to the point where others started to notice that something was off between the two of them and when Jeff questioned Harry about it, he couldn’t give him a reasonable explanation.
“She started it,” he said and instantly felt like a kid, telling on his classmate at school. But this is all he could say, because he had no idea why she was acting this way. And he has to live with it while they work together.
Something is off. Harry knows it. Something about the melody… or the guitar… or is it the lyrics? He can’t tell, he has listened to the recording a million times so it all melts in his ears and he can’t identify what’s setting him off every time he hears it.
“Why don’t we take a break?” Jack, the technician suggests, turning in his chair. “Y/N will be here in twenty, I’m sure she’ll–”
“Okay,” Harry snaps, just so he doesn’t finish. He knows what he wanted to say.
She’ll know what’s wrong and will correct it in a second.
Y/N always knows what’s wrong and most of the time it’s a perk, of course it is, but today, Harry feels like it’s gonna make him want to crawl out of his body. Maybe it’s because he’s been in the studio for five hours and he got nowhere or maybe because Mitch will have his first ever solo gig tonight and Harry has been worried his fame or relation to him might ruin this experience for him.
Either way, today he is just extra pissed by the fact that Y/N will be the one to solve this mystery.
“I’m gonna grab a coffee,” he clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “Do you want one?” he offers, feeling a bit guilty he snapped at Jack.
“Uh, yeah, just an espresso is fine, thanks man.”
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”
Putting on his headphone, Harry jogs across the street to the tiny coffee shop he’s been a regular at. He likes the place because they are discreet and their coffee is just simply amazing, though they swear there’s nothing extra in it.
He waits for the two coffees at the end of the counter and scrolls on his phone in the meantime. Emails, messages, there’s always something to answer to. He sends out a few replies before he ends up in his calendar. It’s neatly color coded and he takes pride in keeping it up-to-date all the time so he can always be on top of his game, no matter what.
His eyes land on one particular date. Five weeks from now Y/N’s contract expires and if the five songs are done by then, she’ll be out of Harry’s life again. Seeing how the work is going, she’ll easily outdo that number so there won’t be any reason for talk about an extension.
An unsettling feeling spreads in his stomach as he stares at the date but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because he is snapped out of his thoughts when the two paper cups are placed in front of him. He is trying his best to keep a positive mindset as he returns to the studio’s building. With the two coffee cups in his hands he makes a right turn and then stops at the door, seeing Y/N sitting where he did previously, already listening to the recording with Jack with a critical expression on her face.
Harry doesn’t interrupt them, just stays put and waits for her feedback. When she is done listening, she leans back in her seat.
“It’s the bass. Or more specifically the lack of it. Can you double it? Let’s see how it changes.”
Jack is quick to do as she asked and then he starts the song again and…
Harry wants to scream and laugh in bliss at the same time, because it’s perfect now. He’s mad he couldn’t spot such an obvious thing, but he is also happy it’s finally sorted out. It’s just a shame Y/N was the one to do it and not him.
“Great, so this is done then,” he makes himself noticed as he walks into the studio and hands over one of the cups to Jack.
When he looks at Y/N he can see that familiar, irritated look on her face that’s almost always there when he’s around. He hasn’t decided if he wants to physically wipe it off, or…
“Thanks for bringing one for me,” she comments in a bored tone, turning back towards the screen.
“You weren’t here when I went out.”
“But you knew I was coming.”
Harry opens his mouth, but then closes it, because this time she is kind of right. And it irks him even more today.
It’s gonna be a challenging session today, Harry thinks as he takes a seat.
It’s always exciting for Harry to be behind the stage when he’s not the star of the show. Kind of like a whole different world.
He hasn’t been here for long, but he’s been trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible and let Mitch take the spotlight. Just a few minutes ago Sarah put him on Scout-duty which he gladly took up on, he’s always happy to spend time with the little guy. This time he is letting him explore freely and he’s just following him around to make sure he’s safe. Scout seemingly enjoys the adventure with uncle Harry, who doesn’t really pay attention where he is heading.
That’s how they end up in the green room where Y/N is.
Y/N and Sarah have worked together a while ago, which is a random coincidence how they are connected outside of Harry. Because of their history, Y/N is often where they are, however she was never around when Sarah and Mitch were playing for Harry.
Scout runs up to Y/N, arms in the air, asking to be picked up and Harry stops a few steps away from them when he realizes who he just found.
“Hey there, little guy! Are you all by yourself?” Y/N asks, settling the boy on her hip.
She’s changed since they parted ways in the studio. Harry has always admired her sense of style, which mostly consists of basic pieces, almost like a capsule wardrobe, but there’s always something extra, something vibrant on her that makes her sets interesting. Tonight she is wearing a simple black dress with a rather low back cut, simple heels, simple makeup, but she added a silky scarf with vivid colors and shapes around her neck that brings Harry’s attention to the curve of her neck and collarbones, almost as a cheeky invitation for his eyes to her naked skin.
He has to fight the urge to touch her.
Despite the spiteful relationship they’ve been sporting lately, Harry had to deal with a rather unreasonable desire for Y/N in a physical way.
Unreasonable, because he never thought he could be attracted to someone who pisses him off so easily, yet there’s been plenty of occasions when Harry found himself imagining scenarios he could never admit to her, not when she hates him with such obvious passion.
Tonight it’s not just the outfit, but also the way she’s handling Scout. It’s not just women who find it incredibly hot when the opposite sex is great with kids, Harry can definitely feel something inside him moving as he watches Y/N sway from side to side with the little boy in his arms.
“Uncle Hazza is here!” Scout points at him, answering her previous question. Y/N looks up and because Harry was already looking at him, he catches a slipping moment where there’s no irritation on her face, but it returns quite fast when her gaze settles on him.
“Ah, hi,” she says, lips pressed together as she nods, acknowledging his presence.
“Hey. Long time no see.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Who says that? Why did he even say anything else other than hi? He smacks himself in his mind.
Part of him expects her to say something like ‘not long enough’ but she just keeps quiet and turns all her attention to Scout. Harry feels out of place, he is supposed to be babysitting, but Y/N is taking care of Scout, Harry knows he is in good hands but Sarah asked him to watch over him. Should he leave? Or just keep standing there awkwardly?
“You can go, I’ll watch him,” Y/N says, as if she could read his mind.
“You sure?”
“I’m pretty sure I can take care of him until Sarah is back.” Her reply is not just dry, kind of offended, nothing Harry wouldn’t expect from her, but it’s still irking him.
“I didn’t say you’re not capable, I just–”
“I’m not in the mood for this,” she cuts him off with an icy look. Harry is too stunned to reply, just watches Y/N walk away with Scout.
He almost finds it amusing how easily she can piss him off, not many people have been able to do that, in fact, Harry thinks she does it the best.
Clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and then just lets it all go.
The after party is always kind of Harry’s favorite. The stress is over, it’s just the relief and celebration that is left.
Mitch’s show went well, that’s what Harry expected, but it’s still great he was right. Seeing his friend be the star of the show was an experience he is glad he could be part of. Now that the core of the group has moved to a nearby bar, Harry has loosened up thanks to the couple of drinks he’s had.
He’s been mostly sticking to the familiar faces he knows, rotating between the same few people while enjoying how under the radar he is currently.
The more drinks he has had, the less he’s been able to control where his gaze goes. To be exact, he’s been finding himself looking Y/N’s way the past hour or so. That damn dress and scarf, it’s like she’s put a spell on him that forces him to keep wanting to look at her.
Harry is not experienced with feeling like this. Being attracted to someone who he hates, it’s such an ambivalent impulse, he can’t think straight. Or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he has drunk tonight, either way, it’s getting a rise out of him.
From the corner of his eye he sees her slip out to the back where the smoking area is, he hesitates, shifts his weight from one leg to the other before making the leap and heading after her. He has no plan, no idea what he wants to ro will say to her, but he just feels like he has to talk to her.
Stepping out to the dimly lit back alley he is met with a few people scattered around, having a cigarette with drinks in hand, talking or scrolling on their phone and then he spots Y/N on the left, standing by the wall, cigarette in one hand, the remaining of her drink in the other as she stares ahead of her.
She doesn’t smoke regularly, but she does enjoy one in certain social settings or when she’s had a few drinks. Harry knows it from years ago, because they shared a cigarette at a party, back then she seemed thrilled to spend time with him, he remembers all the conversations they had while working together, telling each other stories, sharing their plans, Harry truly thought they would remain good friends on this extraordinary journey, yet they ended up here.
As Harry walks towards her, she notices him and he sees her lips twitch in annoyance.
“Care if I join?” he asks and she just shrugs without a word, avoiding to look at him.
They stand there in silence for a while, she is lazily puffing the smoke out from time to time.
“Is it still just an occasional thing?” he tries to strike up a conversation.
“Mhm,” is all he gets as a reply.
“Have you tried to put it down fully?”
“Why are you doing this?” she snaps at him, finally looking his way.
“What?”
“Why are you trying to chit-chat when we both know we don’t do that?”
“And why don’t we?” He challenges her. “Tell me why we are like this in the first place, because I have no idea.”
She stares at him for long moments and he awaits her answer like nothing before, but then she shakes her head and turns to the pin beside her, puts the cigarette out and flicks it into the bin. Then, without another word she is already heading back inside.
It takes a moment for Harry to start moving again, but he is quick to catch up with her in the hall that leads to the restrooms.
“Y/N, give me a fucking answer!” he demands, grabbing her wrist to pull her back before she could escape, but she shakes his hand off as she comes to a stop, turning towards him.
“I owe you nothing!” she hisses at him. “I owe you no one, but especially you!”
“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?! I never thought you owe me anything!”
“I’m not doing this, Harry, leave me the fuck alone,” she growls and tries to leave, but Harry pulls her back again, determined to get an answer this time.
“Don’t think I will just swallow everything down forever. I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. It’s your choice if you make it hard on both of us.”
She is looking back at him with wide eyes, this time his hand remains on her arm as they stare each other down in the empty hallway. Neither of them knows what will be their next move, the tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating.
But then it all changes.
If someone asked who moved first, they wouldn’t know. One moment they are standing like stone statues, barely even breathing, then the next moment they are kissing like there’s no tomorrow.
It doesn’t take long until Harry has her pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming her body, feeling her up the way he fantasized about before, they are both rough and impatient, she is clawing at him, moaning into his mouth when his hips press against hers and she feels how hard he’s gotten already.
Blindly, Harry pushes the closest door open which happens to be the staff’s bathroom that someone left unlocked, lucky for them. Still glued together they stumble inside, Y/N kicks the door open before Harry pushes her against it and he locks it before his hand returns to her tempting body.
He has never acted like this when it comes to sex. He does like to spice things up sometimes, but the way he’s biting her lips or unbuttoning his pants or reaches under her dress to pull her underwear down is just so out of character for him, yet so freeing.
Nothing is said, but when her hands pull his hard, leaking dick out of his pants, there’s a fleeting look they exchange that says it all, just how much they both want it.
It’s the fastest pace he’s ever experienced, yet the most passionate too. They moan at the same time when Harry pushes into her and starts moving in a rush, desperate for relief. She’s panting and whining for more, the only form of speaking she is able to as she holds onto Harry who is focused on keeping up his quick and steady pace while holding her left leg up to ensure the perfect angle.
The animalistic need is there for them both, making them act like this is what they must do to stay alive. It’s messy, fast and mind-blowing and they don’t need much time to reach the peak. As she comes her nails dig into her shoulder and she bites into his bottom lip so harshly it draws blood, but he doesn’t care, only follows her into bliss just a second later. With the last bit of his consciousness Harry pulls out right before he comes, covering her thigh with the white, sticky evidence of just how much he enjoyed the past minutes.
They are breathing heavily and Harry feels like a thick haze is still lingering around his head, stopping him from realizing what just happened. Y/N however is ahead of him and when reality comes crashing down on her, her instinct to flee kicks right in. Harry is still trying to clear his mind when she grabs a paper towel and cleans herself up as fast as possible and Harry only snaps out of his trance when she is already unlocking the door.
“Y/N, what the— wait!” He can’t go after her as she slips out of the room because he is still pretty indecent, so he has to pull his pants up and can only rush out then, but by that time she is already gone.
He’s quite frantic as he tries to find her in the bar, but she is nowhere to be seen. Harry returns to the rest of their group, hoping to catch her somewhere but she has vanished into thin air.
“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asks Mitch, his eyes still roaming the place.
“Nah, haven’t seen her since she went out to smoke.”
Harry groans and makes his way outside, maybe she’s there waiting for a car, but as he steps out to the street he sees no trace of her. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he doesn’t hesitate before dialing her number. The line rings once, twice and then… it goes to voicemail.
“Hey, this is Y/N. Do whatever you want after the beep.”
“Fuck!” Harry ends the call and he has to stop himself from throwing it against the nearest wall.
This is not how he planned. Well, he didn’t plan any of it, especially not fucking Y/N like a horny teenager. He wanted to solve this whole issue between the two of them but instead he just created another one.
A stupid, giant one.
NEXT PART
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb#harry styles smut
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Honey Girl.
Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.
Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au
Age Rating - 18+
Word Count - 5.1k
Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).
Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.
Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine.
Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/
An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.
"Babe! Babe! Babe!"
"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"
You can guess. In fact, you already have.
Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.
You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.
You wish people would shut up about it.
The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.
You fall into the latter.
You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.
You're not sure you ever want it to happen.
The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.
Not everyone shares the same sentiment.
"Babe, you still there?"
Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"
You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.
"Sure. I'll see you in ten."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."
You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.
"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.
The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.
"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"
She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.
"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."
As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.
"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."
"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.
"Like fucking magic."
You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.
"Magic?" you prompt.
"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"
She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.
"So, what's his name? What's he like?"
"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"
"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.
"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."
You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.
"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"
"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."
You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.
"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"
"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."
Jackpot. She's read you like a book.
"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"
"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"
"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"
You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.
"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."
"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."
Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.
"Hi, Mama."
"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."
She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.
"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."
"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."
She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.
"You've poured four, Mama."
"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."
"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."
"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"
She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.
Your Dad's best friend.
They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.
He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.
Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.
She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.
It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.
A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.
Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.
Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.
Might as well make the most of the freedom.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.
"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.
"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.
"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.
"I brought your favourite, Lori."
"So did I," you echo, laughing.
"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"
"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."
"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.
The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.
"Lacie got Tethered."
"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.
"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.
"Tell me about it."
"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."
"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."
"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."
"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."
"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."
"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."
"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."
"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.
And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.
"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.
"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."
You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.
"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."
You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.
"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.
"You got big late night plans?" you tease.
"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."
Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.
"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"
"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."
"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.
You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.
"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.
"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"
They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.
"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.
"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.
"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.
"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.
"Maybe?" he smirks.
"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."
"Like hell you will," he grumbles.
You quirk a brow in confusion.
"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."
You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.
"Why don't we go somewhere?"
"Where?" you ask tentatively.
"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"
You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.
"I fucking love the beach."
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.
The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.
The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.
A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.
"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."
He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.
"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."
Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.
"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."
"And what is this?"
"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."
You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.
"Me too," he whispers.
You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.
"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."
You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.
"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"
He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.
"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."
"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.
"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.
You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.
"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."
You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.
"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"
"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."
He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.
"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.
"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."
"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."
You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.
"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."
"You're the best, sugar."
You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.
"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.
"Nope. You?"
"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"
The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?
"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."
"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.
Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.
"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"
You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.
"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."
He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.
"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.
"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.
Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.
"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."
You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.
"Woah, easy. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.
He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.
And then, it happens.
Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.
Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.
Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.
After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.
You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.
He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.
You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.
He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.
"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.
A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.
"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."
Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.
You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.
You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.
Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.
You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.
A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.
"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."
"My soulmate," you whisper.
The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.
Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.
"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.
He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.
He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.
"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."
"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.
"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."
You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.
You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.
"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.
"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.
He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.
"My honey girl."
tag list <3
@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @val-writesstuff @t-t-hello @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @myloveniall @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @floralwsloki @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @alesabisou @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @pedropascalsleftfoot @cremebruleequeen @ladifreakingda @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @evan-peters-wife @llamazarecoolaf @ace-27749 @hinata7346
#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#steve rogers x bucky barnes#bucky smut#bucky fluff#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes x reader angst#Honey Girl#bucky barnes angst#dadsbestfriend!bucky x reader#dadsbestfriend!bucky#dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes#sebastian stan#dad's best friend bucky barnes#soulmate au#soulmate!au#soulmate!bucky barnes#soulmate!bucky barnes x reader#dbf!bucky#dbf!bucky barnes x reader#dbf!bucky barnes
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tags: female reader + fluff + self-ship drabble done into x reader + you're mommaguro + modern au (no curses)
Toji struggled to keep up with the five-year-old boy who darted through the racks of clothes in the department store as his dad tried to pick a few things for your upcoming birthday. "Megumi, I need help picking something out for Mommy, what should we get?"
He scooped up the little boy and held him in his bulging arms which caught a few women's attention that was promptly ignored as he showed him a few shirts that he knew you'd love. "The pink one!"
Seeing his son so bubbly and happy made his chest fill with warmth. For the longest time, Toji was certain he'd never find happiness in life, he wandered about with really no emotions but anger at what happened to him until he met you, the woman who showered him with love and patience all the while building him back up.
It was only fair for him to try to be the best husband and father you or Megumi could ask for. "I think she'll love this one." He told his mini-him while ruffling his hair before putting him back down.
Toji trailed behind his son while the boy grabbed things he knew you would like or had seen you with a lot which made Toji's lip curl up knowing he only brought so much money, the rest was for a trip he wanted to take you on, just the both of you for some private time.
He knew you wanted a second baby and probably a third with the way you lose your mind when you see a newborn and the times he caught you crying at Megumi's baby pictures missing it.
"Hey, little man let's take a moment to see what you got Mommy." He told Megumi when they reached a corner of the store that was bare minus a few people who milled around them as he added up the total.
With each new item, it seemed to jump in price and he was looking at a cart that would mean he'd have to work for months straight with no break but if that meant seeing your smile he would do it no problem.
He ruffled his son's hair and put a few things back that he assumed Megumi grabbed from sheer excitement because he knew that you'd probably smack his ass if he bought you hair growth cream even on accident but he knew that you'd laugh about it and tease him too.
"Daddy! Let's get this!" Megumi cried when they reached the counter ready to pay for it all, his eyes shifted down to the little boy holding a coffee cup that read World's Best Mom on it with pink lettering.
Toji scooped up his son and kissed his head with a chuckle. "Mommy drinks too much coffee, huh?" He teased adding it to the pile of gifts.
#toji x reader#toji fluff#toji x you fluff#toji fushiguro fluff#jjk#jjk x reader#toji fushiguro#toji x you#jjk fluff#jjk toji fluff#Toji x reader#Toji Fushiguro x reader#toji x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#toji fushiguro x you
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When writing, did you ever suffer from a fear or underdelivering or misrepresenting a topic? If you did, how did you overcome it? I enjoy writing but rarely bring it to the public out of fear that I am either not doing good enough or badly portraying the themes or aspects of what I write.
Absolutely, and on the one hand it's a very healthy fear - it prompts you to do your research and be thoughtful in how you write. On the other hand you've just got to accept that occasionally it will happen. Inculturation is a hell of a thing, and leaves us all with a thousand kneejerk preconceptions and perceptions of the world, some benign and some downright awful. And sometimes they crop up no matter how thoughtful you try to be. And you gotta understand that when it happens and people call you on it, you just have to take your lumps and learn what you can from it.
It doesn't help, of course, that the words you write are only ever half of what your audience reads: five people reading the same book are reading five different books, each filtering the text through a lifetime of psychology and experience. And they will find themes and problems in there you never even considered, and they will also find resonances and beauty in your work that you could never have foreseen.
At the end of the day, writing stuff thats meaningful to you (hell, writing anything at all) is a messy, bruising business, and anybody who tells you there are simple solutions or clear rules to follow is either lying to you or to themselves.
But you can't let it paralyse you. Its like if you're playing football and you're worried about falling over. It's a reasonable fear and you should do your best to avoid it, but occasionally it's gonna happen, and unless you want to spend the whole game just standing still in a field, you've kinda just got to get on with it. Just try not to be one of those writers who's always taking dives and... screaming for the ref to get a free kick? Hm. That analogy may have gotten away from me. I don't actually know much about football.
Point is, I'm aware that this isn't the most reassuring writing advice I've ever given, but yeah, its a messy, scary business. Just do your best. Be thoughtful. Be kind. And always do your research.
#Sorry for the ramble#One if those things I've thought a lot about#And still don't have any simple answers#That writing I guess
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small favours
— joel miller x fem!reader
— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts
— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.
You hadn’t asked for much.
It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?
Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.
It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.
It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.
All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.
There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.
Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.
“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.
“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”
Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.
“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”
“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.
“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.
You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.
You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.
“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”
The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.
When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.
“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“
“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.
In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.
“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.
“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”
“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”
“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.
“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.
“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.
“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”
“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”
“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.
“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.
“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”
“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.
“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”
“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh
“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.
“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“
“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”
“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”
“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.
“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”
“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”
“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.
He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.
Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.
“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.
“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”
“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”
“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.
“You want me to stitch your face together?”
“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.
“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.
“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.
“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.
“Sorry. Shit—“
“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”
“Huh?”
“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”
Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.
The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.
“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.
“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.
“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.
“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.
It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.
You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.
You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.
“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”
Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.
At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.
“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.
“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”
“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”
“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.
For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.
He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.
“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”
“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”
“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.
“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.
“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”
“But I want—“
“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”
“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”
“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.
He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.
Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.
He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.
“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.
“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.
It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.
There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.
“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“
He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.
You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.
“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”
“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”
“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.
He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.
“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”
He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.
He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.
“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.
“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.
It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.
You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.
“So fucking tight around me.”
“God, you feel good.”
“You are so beautiful.”
“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“
“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.
The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.
He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.
“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.
“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.
“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”
You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.
#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel killer x y/n#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#the last of us#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x reader
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What No One Tells You About Writing Fantasy
Every author has their preferred genres. I love fantasy and sci-fi, but began with historical fiction. I hated all the research that historical fiction demands and thought, if I build my own world, no research required.
Boy, was I wrong.
So to anyone dipping their toe into fantasy/sci-fi, here’s seven things I wish I knew about the genres before I committed to writing for them.
1. You still have to research. Everything.
If you want any of your fantasy battle sequences, or your space ships, or your droids and robots, or your fictional government and fictional politics to read at all believable.
In sci-fi, you research astronomy, robotics, politics, political science, history, engineering, anthropology. In fantasy, you have to research historical battle tactics, geography, real-world mythology, folklore, and fairytales, and much of it overlaps with science fiction.
I say you *have to* assuming you want your work to be original and unique and stand out from the crowd. Fanfic writers put in the research for a 30k word smut fic, you can and will have to research for your original work.
2. Naming everything gets exhausting
I hate coming up with new names, especially when I write worlds and places divorced from Earthly customs and can’t rely on Earthly naming conventions. You have to name all your characters, all your towns, villages, cities, realms, kingdoms, planets, galaxies, star systems.
You have to name your rebel faction, your imperial government, significant battles. Your spaceships, your fantasy companies and organizations, your magic system, made-up MacGuffins, androids, computer programs. The list goes on and on and on.
And you have to do it all without it sounding and reading ridiculous and unpronounceable, or racist. Your fantasy realms have to have believable naming patterns. It. Gets. Exhausting.
3. It will never read like you’re watching a movie
Do you know how fast movies can cut between scenes? Movies can balance five plotlines at once all converging with rapid edits, without losing their audience. Sometimes single lines of dialogue, or single wordless shots are all a scene gets before it cuts. If you try to replicate that by head-hopping around, you will make a mess.
It’s perfectly fine to write like you’re watching a movie, but you can’t rely on visual tricks to get your point across when all you have is text on a page – like slow mo, lens flares, epically lit cinematic shots, or the aforementioned rapid edits.
It doesn’t have to, nor should it, look like a movie. Books existed long before film, so don’t let yourself get caught up in how ~cinematic~ it may or may not look.
4. Your space opera will be compared to Star Wars and Star Trek
And your fairy epic will be compared to Tinkerbell, your vampires to Twilight, your zombies to The Walking Dead, Shaun of the Dead, World War Z. Your wizards and witches and any whisper of a fantasy school for fantasy children will be compared to Harry Potter. Your high fantasy adventure will be compared to Lord of the Rings.
You can’t avoid it, but you can avoid doing it to yourself. When people ask about your book, let them say “oh, you mean like Star Wars” to which you then can say, kind of, except XYZ happens in my book. These IPs will never fade from the public consciousness, not while you exist to read this post, at least, but Harry Potter isn’t the only urban fantasy out there. Lord of the Rings isn’t the only high fantasy. Star Wars isn’t the only space opera.
Yours will be on the shelves right next to them, soon enough, and who knows? You might dethrone them.
5. Your world-building is an iceberg, and your book is the tip
I don’t pay for any of those programs that help you organize your book and mythos. I write exclusively on Apple Notes, MS Word, and Google Suite (and all are free to me). I have folders on Apple Notes with more words inside them than the books they’re written for.
If you try to cram an entire college textbook’s worth of content into your novel, you will have left zero room for actual story. The same goes for all the research you did, all the hours slaving away for just a few details and strings of dialogue.
There’s a balance, no matter how dense your story is. If you really want to include all those extra details, slap some appendices at the end. Commission some maps.
6. The gatekeeping for fantasy and sci-fi is still very real
Pen names and pseudonyms exist for a reason. A female author writing fantasy that isn’t just a backdrop for romance? You have a harder battle ahead of you than your male counterparts, at least in the US. And even then, your female protagonist will be scrutinized and torn apart.
She’ll either be too girly or not girly enough, too sexy, or not sexy enough. She’ll be called a Mary Sue, a radical feminist mouthpiece, some woke propaganda. Every action she takes will be criticized as unrealistic and if she has fans who are girls, they will be mocked, too.
If you have queer characters, characters of color, they won’t be good enough, they won’t please everyone, and someone will still call you a bigot. A lot of someones will still call you a bigot.
Do your due diligence and hire your army of sensitivity readers and listen to them, but you cannot please everyone, so might as well write to please yourself. You’re the one who will have to read it a thousand times until it’s published.
7. Your “original” idea has been done before, and that’s okay
Stories have been told since before language evolved. The sum of the parts of your novel may be original, but even then, it’s colored by the media you’ve consumed. And that’s okay!
How many Cinderella stories are there? How many high fantasies? How many books about werewolves and witches and vampires? Gods and goddesses and celestial beings? Fairies and dragons and trolls? Aliens, robots, alien robots? Romeo and Juliette? Superheroes and mutants?
Zombies may be the avenue through which you tell your story, but it’s not *just* about zombies, is it? It’s about the characters who battle them, the endurance of the human spirit, or the end of an era, the death of a nation. So don’t get discouraged, everyone before you and everyone after will have written someone on the backs of what came before and it still feels new.
#writing advice#writing resources#writing tips#writing tools#writing a book#fantasy#scifi#writeblr#what no one tells you about writing
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The Gang React to You Breaking Your Ankle
Lucifer
"This was bound to happen sooner or later."
I mean, really, with all the stunts you play with his brothers and that sorcerer, it's more surprising that you didn't break anything before now. Thank goodness your room is on the ground floor. Now, here is a schedule of where you need to be and when, along with the brother who is your designated companion at all times to ensure you don't get stuck somewhere or fall over and break something else. This is a rotating position so stop fighting all of you!
Mammon
"Holy shit, humans break easy, huh?"
Assuming for the moment that Mammon didn't accidentally get your ankle broken by pulling some stupid stunt for Devilgram clout and involving you in it, he'll be extra careful with you for a little bit. People keep jostling you in the hall! Don't they realize you're basically made of glass and paper?! He'll clear the halls for you to hobble by with your crutches. Yep, you're earning all sorts of new friends.
Leviathan
"E-sports are the best activity when you're injured."
What a convenient excuse to drag you to his room more often than usual for anime marathons and all-night gaming sessions. Like Mammon, he's a little uneasy about this revelation about just how delicate you are, but nobody gets injured playing video games. He's basically protecting you from your next inevitable accident.
Satan
"Stop trying to do so much on your own."
Satan acts extremely annoyed when he sees you trying to hop somewhere without your crutches or lifting anything more than fifteen pounds unaided. Of course, he's just worried about you and expressing that in the most practical way he can. He repeatedly reminds you of advice on improving your recovery rate he found in medical books and the blogs of reputable physical therapists (he always checks into their credentials).
Asmodeus
"Poor thing! Let me spoil you!"
And that's basically what he does, whenever he gets the opportunity. This is a great excuse to get some much needed R&R, in his opinion, so the two of you will be visiting spas and getting massages and you aren't walking anywhere anymore, he is one of the Rulers of the Underworld and you are going to be carried on a litter, so help him Gardonus.
Beelzebub
"You need to eat well to get your strength back."
Prepare yourself for Beel's version of "eating well". You only had three eggs for breakfast? You'll never heal at that rate. Have another six and some bacon. Here's a protein shake. It's designed for demons so it's probably a little grittier than the soft stuff from the human world but it's exactly what you need. No, he doesn't have any science to back this up. Yes, he expects you to clean your plate.
Belphegor
"Of course you got hurt, running around all the time. You should just relax with me."
Little did you know this was all part of Belphegor's master plan...
What a perfect opportunity to spend every second of the day with you. Now that you're forced to sit around and avoid being too active, he has you right where he wants you (specifically, under the blankets with him while he sleeps). He'll remind you at every opportunity that you normally run yourself ragged, and you've earned some time to laze around. And now that you're injured, you have the perfect excuse!
Diavolo
"Your poor human bones... My home is always open to you if you need somewhere more convenient to stay. Please take care of yourself, in the meantime."
Rest assured, he will provide you with all transportation necessary to and from RAD. Or perhaps you would like to try remote classes? Leviathan finds them productive! And if you need anything, please let him know. He'll be in touch about five times a day just to make sure you remember that.
Barbatos
"I am only a phone call away should you require my assistance."
And he will be on call at all hours of the day and night, just in case. You'll be treated like royalty when you visit the castle too, of course. (Even more like royalty than usual, that is.)
Solomon
"Oh, that? Here."
He just magics your ankle better. There, there, little apprentice. He's surprised you didn't do that yourself.
Simeon
"What are you carrying? I'll take it for you. No, I insist!"
Simeon will be a perfect gentleman, helping you up and down stairs and carrying your books and shopping for you. He's very concerned about you somehow re-injuring yourself, and even when you're alright to walk without crutches anymore, he still *really wishes* you'd use them for an extra week or two, just to be on the safe side.
Luke
"You did what to your ankle?! Ankles can do that?!
Congratulations, you've introduced Luke to the concept of broken bones, and he will find the human skeleton creepy and gross for the rest of his life.
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@thefandomthings I know this isn't exactly what your ask was, but it's similar, so I hope you like this!
#this was in my drafts for weeks#time to do another gang reacts post#obey me#obey me ensemble#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#obey me x reader#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me beel#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie#obey me diavolo#obey me solomon#obey me simeon#obey me barbatos#obey me luke#dthc#hcs#text post#lucifer#mammon#belphie#levi#satan#asmo#beel#the gang react
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