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natcliachen · 24 days

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NATALIA CHEN ( HAVANA ROSE LIU ) is a TWENTY-SIX year-old PERSONAL ASSISTANT in PARIS, FRANCE. They were brought under Richard’s care when they were only TEN years old. They are known as THE PERFECTIONIST because they are METICULOUS but also RIGID.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Natalia Chen

Nickname(s): She prefers Natalia. If she respects you, she can tolerate Talia. If you've called her Nat, she's plotted your murder.

Date of Birth: September 16, 1978

Age: 26, turning 27 in like 2 weeks

Occupation: Personal Assistant to fashion designer, Geneviève Brodeur

Current Residence: Paris, France

Hometown: Chicago, Illinois

Sexuality: Unlabeled

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Green

Height: 5'5"

Notable Features: Very long, wavy hair that touches her waist. She's also got freckles but they're usually hidden beneath make-up.

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR:

Strengths: Organized, Reliable, Punctilious, Refined

Weaknesses: Prideful, Highly Critical, Judgmental, Reticent

Quirks: Walks very softly (has a habit of surprising people because they don't hear her approach), tends to stand with her hands clasped behind her back, intense eye contact

Vices: She's unfortunately picked up smoking since moving to Paris. Though she generally manages to avoid doing it unless her boss asks her to have one or she's very stressed. Drinks socially and sometimes just for fun when she's chilling home alone because Paris or whatever.

INTEREST & HOBBIES:

Interests: Greek mythology, Victorian antiques, Baroque art, fashion, culinary arts lowkey (she likes that you have to be very disciplined and precise)

Hobbies: Fruit carving, horseback riding, visiting museums, reading

Special Skills/Talents: Superb gift wrapper, can tie a cherry stem with her tongue, really good at needlework but specifically embroidery

MISCELLANEOUS

Playlists - What She's Listening To / Vibes

BECOMING A WARD

There's a lot of mystery surrounding how or why Natalia came into Richard's care. He left for one of his usual trips, gone for a few days or so, and simply came back with her. It's not the first time it's happened, and it's certainly not the first time he was tight-lipped about why someone was taken in. All Richard really shared with the others is that Natalia is an orphan. For the first few years Natalia was at Woodrow, a detective and former student of Richard's made occasional visits. There was an air of familiarity between Natalia and this visitor, suggesting a shared history. When questioned by the others about the detective's identity, Natalia would simply refer to her as a friend of her mother's.

LIFE AS A WARD

Natalia was non-verbal for the first few weeks upon arriving at Woodrow House. However, when she finally spoke, it was clear she wasn't the talkative type. She was largely unproblematic growing up — well-behaved, enjoyed quiet hobbies, and did well in school. It was once she became a teenager that she started showing more personality. While she was generally much of the same at her core, she more readily revealed her wit and distaste. (Read: embraced being kind of a bitch<3.) Natalia did well to position herself firmly as one of the competent and capable wards growing up when she noticed there was a distinction between them. She always knew where to be and what to do. You never had to worry about her. Her unwavering competence was both commendable and exasperating, especially to those who could never quite measure up — ahem, The Mischievous.

DYNAMIC WITH THE OTHER WARDS

For someone who likes to set themselves apart, she's not normally alone unless she wants to be. Was very close to The Scholar growing up and was always seen with them until they fell out. If she likes you, she'll find a reason to be in your space. Considering Natalia's inclination towards being perceived a certain way, she definitely tried to align herself more with wards that were less openly problematic. She doesn't like people who are messy and attention-seeking, like The Melodramatic. She's also not a fan of people who are insecure or unsuccessful by her standards. For this reason, she's The Misunderstood's #1 bully. <3 I imagine she was also drawn to the wards that were older and more responsible like The Guardian and The Protector. However, considering Natalia's age, she was probably grouped in with the younger wards most of the time for schooling and outings, which she lowkey hated. She always made the best of a bad situation however and used it as an opportunity to underscore just how capable she was, subsequently becoming something of a guide or example for the younger wards.

GENERAL VIBE

She's not unfriendly, she's just... particular. She has very little patience for things that are messy, whether it's behavior, your appearance or your space. Will be the first to call something 'tragic' in judgey ass tone. Bit of an elitist honestly. The better you carry yourself, the more willing she is to associate with you and be nice. Is also generally very terrible with vulnerability. She's not good at dealing with it, nor is she particularly known for displaying it.

WHAT WAS THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH RICHARD LIKE?

Despite her reserved nature, Natalia shares a special warmth and closeness with Richard that she doesn’t easily extend to others. There's a softness to her when she's around him. His guidance and steadfast support played a significant role in shaping the goodness in her character growing up. She sees him as a mentor and despite herself, a father figure — though she'll never say it out loud.

AESTHETIC

Natalia takes great pride in the way she presents herself. She dresses very prim and proper. Lots of matching sets and dresses. Short heels. She loves light colored clothing and pastels. She's very rarely seen in casual clothing, and even then her most plain shirts are collared. She doesn't have a signature accessory per se but she's often seen wearing a pearl pendant necklace. When she was a child, she used to wear a cross necklace that Mrs. Tristan gave to her. She transitioned it out of her attire when she started to learn more about religion, but she still has the necklace. She normally wears her hair half up, half down, with a neat bow tying her hair together. Having naturally wavy hair, straighteners are her very best friend. She goes through a whole process of straightening her hair only to then curl it in delicate waves that she prefers. Always smells good. A Diptyque bitch through and through. She wears L'Ombre dans l'Eau.

EDUCATION

Natalia chose to attend a private school when it came time to pursue secondary education. However, she only attended it for two years before opting to receive schooling on Woodrow’s grounds again. She'll claim it was boring but in truth, she was just kind of homesick. She did go on to attend Richard's alma mater, Kingsbury College, and double majored in Art History and French.

EXTRACURRICULARS

Natalia took gymnastics, piano, French lessons and horseback riding growing up. She's always liked horses, and to learn how to ride and work with them was a dream come true. #horsegirl Not that it was an official extracurricular she took up, but she spent a lot of time observing and learning how to prepare food in the kitchen growing up. While she initially spent time in the kitchen to practice her French with Chef Pierre, she eventually starting helping with mise en place because it was fun and relaxing to her. Her knife skills go crazyyy.

THEIR LIFE NOW

After graduating, Natalia didn't have much in mind for a career, so she decided to help Richard with the Woodrow Foundation. She functioned as an administrative assistant for him for several years. While she didn't gravitate towards the volunteering and charity work, she thrived in the administrative side of the foundation. She would have honestly been content to do that for many years, enjoying the work and that she got to repay Richard in some way for changing her life. But of course, Natalia had other interests, and Richard was always one to encourage a person to explore their passions. He connected her with a rising fashion designer in Paris named Geneviève Brodeur, and she then left to intern for her. The internship was only meant to last half a year, with her learning the ins and outs of fashion design, but the designer liked Natalia so much that she was kept on as a personal assistant. She's been living in Paris since and hasn't had time to return to Woodrow.

#wrhq.intro #will i want to add to this the moment i publish it? probably

9 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

I’ve read a variation of soft and rough König and I’ve enjoyed both but I’d love to see your take on his character.

I can’t deny I have a preference for soft König. I think his size is a major concern, especially if his partner is on the smaller side, which leads me to believe he’d prolong the inevitable and the pining and anticipation would be off the charts on his end. But maybe his SO thinks he’s not as interested as she initially thought.

Add in the fact that he’s gone for long periods of time in which there is little or no communication and perhaps she considers moving on. The ol’ miscommunication trope if you will, with a happy ending. Thanks!

Overflow the Stars

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Synopsis: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Angst, feelings of insecurity, body issues, allusions to König's past w. bullying & his anxiety, size difference, fluff, soft!König, happy ending

A/N: This is my apology to the German-speaking people out there - I think I butchered your language (feel free to correct me). I'm so sorry lmfao. But, Anon, this request was adorable to write, hope you enjoy it!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wanted to say you were surprised when he didn't show up – really, you did – but in the back of your mind, you already knew he wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel disappointed when you swirled your tiny cup of Franziskaner tensely, watching the whipped cream sink away into the concoction of dark espresso and milk; calling attention to the same feeling in your chest.

König had a strange habit as of late, and with a delicate furrow in your brow and perhaps even a smidge of sadness in your eyes, you wondered what you had done wrong. Why had he been avoiding you so…violently? While you wouldn’t have called yourself perfect by any means, nothing you had done over the course of your meetings was strange or downright embarrassing.

You admitted that the man had never been the type to run away from something, and sighed as you brought the cup to your lips and sipped. Caffeine sits on your tongue along with a bitter revelation as the rain begins to pick up in velocity outside. The small and quiet café where you’re spending your afternoon is warm and unburdened by the weather.

Do you think…he’s even interested in me anymore? The sharp thought brings a pang to your chest, fingers over the warm cup flinching back as if struck with lightning. O-or he doesn’t like being around me?

Your relationship was still new, very new, and if you were asked you would say it wasn’t even dating yet. König hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend.

But it had still been going well.

“Or so I thought,” you take a breath, watching the fog on the window as the streets of Vienna are rapidly being emptied of tourists and locals alike. Your shoulders are painfully tight.

Aggressive rainfall like this into the cold seasons was unusual, but it wasn’t like mother nature cared about the whims of anyone but herself. It’ll freeze overnight, leaving a bitter chill that puffs from breaths and a shaky few steps out the door across hardened ice. You’d probably go out – alone – for a walk in the morning to clear your head, or try, at any rate.

Lately, all you could think about was the bear of a man that was supposed to be sitting in the empty seat ahead of you. The cursed wooden chair burns your eyes; its dark wood and red cushion stab your vision over and over until you’re sure you’ll bleed tears instead of water.

He was supposed to be here.

Taking another shaky sip of your drink, one that König had recommended to you himself a few dates ago, the brief moments of warmth it brings to your bones does little to satisfy you. You doubted anything short of a hulking figure trying to stick their knees under the small table could do just that.

The giant man you called your possible future boyfriend was avoiding you, and your subconscious was breaking itself to try and understand why. As if that gracious plea had been heard above the glossiness of your eyes and the gentle hum of the café workers who shuffle about, the phone in your pocket jumps.

You don’t want to admit how fast your hand snapped to your thigh, sneaking under the layers to draw out black metal. A single link to König when he was overseas or out of sight that you were told was unwise to use. He was rarely able to answer you, but for what it was worth, he always tried to call back later.

Even if recently, it had been a brief state of events.

“I-I can’t talk right now–”

“Forgive me–”

Your lips thin.

Pulling the phone out, you immediately look at the contact, though you already know the message before you read it. The sunken whipped cream finally falls under deep chocolate-colored waves.

“Sorry, Bӓrchen, I’m stuck in the building for the day! I swear I’ll make it up to you for missing–” You don’t bother reading the rest, thumb already scrolling upward to see the numerous times other excuses have been made.

His parents were needing some help moving furniture, he was drowning in post-operation reports, or simply just too tired. You weren't stupid. But every time you had stuffed down your pride and responded cheerfully, dressed to the nines and standing in your living room while your fingers shook over the keys.

Holding back tears.

It would hurt less if he’d just tell you to your face what you were thinking. Maybe all of this was just…

Your thoughts trail off.

But that didn’t make sense – König was never malicious!

Placing down the phone, you leave him on read, feeling the pitying eyes of the baristas burning into your skin like a brand. They knew as well as you did that he wasn’t showing up.

When he calls sometime later, you shut the device off completely. Staring out the window at the dimming light, you lean your head into the glass and try not to cry as you watch couples rushing for cover from the rain; laughing and holding the other close.

The empty chair stays motionless in the corner of your eye.

—

The first time you met König, you were left gaping at the sheer size of him.

Towering over ninety percent of the other patrons in the art shop, he had looked down at the package of charcoal pencils in his large, scarred, hands. Turning them over to read the description on the back like an expert with delicate eyelashes that you’d kill for.

You yourself had been cast in his shadow quite by accident, looking along expansive shelves for a sketchbook – your friend had gotten into a watercolor phase lately, and what better to give her than a birthday present she could actually use? The only problem was that you had no idea what was considered good quality or not, but had a strange suspicion the man beside you did. But what a happy accident it all turned out to be.

König had a black surgical mask on, but the milky-white scar that ran up his right eyebrow and disappeared into his auburn hairline was still starkly visible. Expressive dark eyes blink down at his object from a surprising height. Between picking up multiple books, running your fingers over the paper and whatnot, you can’t help but stare at the pure strength the man emanates. Compared to you, he was utterly gargantuan in both mass and height. A bear and a bee, you thought with a stifled giggle.

He blatantly appeared to know more about this stuff than you did as he placed the charcoal pack down and picked up another.

“Erm,” you begin, and his head snaps down to yours immediately, head of hair falling into gentle curls near the ears. He had looked partially surprised to hear you speak to him, and his eyes had flickered around instinctually. But it was only the two of you in the aisle. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but you seem to know a helluva lot more than me about art supplies.” Your voice was cautious, and you were afraid you’d seem rude for disturbing him, but all he did was stare and wait for you to finish speaking. Feet every so often shifting, or his hands twitching as if he never was able to stay still; he blinks a few times like a rabbit. “Any suggestions for watercolor?” A small laugh meets the air as you move your hand to show off the wall of possible options for paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up – thought I’d get her something she’d actually use this year. She wasn't too enthralled with the plant I got her for her twenty-third. Killed the thing in a week.”

A nervous chuckle is softly met and your face heated as his own did. There’s a moment of a clearing throat before the man nods carefully, and the sparse freckles over his forehead shift. His biceps flex.

“O-of course, Ma’am,” his accent is quite strong, and you like the guttural raspiness of his tone. “I prefer Saunders Waterford, though I don’t manage to use it often. Better, eh, was ist das Wort?” He stumbles for a moment over the proper descriptor. “Beständig. Durable.”

A tilt of his head later, and you’re beaming, picking up the large pad with careful fingers, testing the weight in your palms as one would an apple.

“Wonderful! It looks like I owe you one, eh?” Looking back up, you watch his eyes widen as you notice him blatantly staring. Face crinkling into a shy display of heat and curiosity, he slightly moves back, a large hand going to scratch at the base of his neck as his sweatshirt bunches.

Chest tight, you stick out a hand and offer your name with a smile. It was only customary, but the action was pure instinct more than thought-out. All the while restraining a shiver, his limb encompasses yours so completely and radiates a large amount of heat.

“A pleasure,” your voice wavers, but it’s not so much nervousness as it is genuine intrigue. For a man so blessed with the tall gene, he really had a considerate hold – barely squeezing your skin in fear it would break.

The action makes your chest squeeze.

“Ah, guten tag,” he utters, nodding with a firm shake, though his eyelashes caress his cheeks as his eyes rove away, “König.”

A bit awkward, isn’t he? You have to ask yourself. Not that it was a bad thing – in fact, you found the nervous tensing of his thighs to be cute, along with that red tinge that was over his pale ears. So very opposite of how you expected him to act.

That was when you noticed the dog tags, as well, though you found no purpose to say anything. But everything about this man had caught your attention as a large billboard would, and the comparison has you practically bending in laughter. He probably could be a billboard with a build like that. No doubt he’d catch a lot of attention.

You tilt your head and release his hand, nodding to König’s charcoal pencils.

“I bet you can make some killer drawings with those things, huh?” The beast twists them in his hand and turns down to stare at the supplies as if he’d forgotten they’d been there at all. “You draw often?”

“Ja,” his eyes brighten, and the crinkling of his eyes tells you that a small smile pulls at his lips. “Whenever I’m able. I,” König pauses before his shoulders move in a soft movement akin to a shrug. “I…find it calming.”

Your ribs move in reaction to an interested sound.

A bear that likes to draw.

“You’re better than me, I’d just get frustrated if something doesn’t look right.” A deep laugh echoes off the shelves before a lapsing silence settles like a bird’s wings. Overcome by a sudden urge to speak, yet having no other words to say, König’s voice meets your ears before you can find something to say.

It’s slow, the tone, bathed in hesitation and even a smidgen of armor; like the outcome of your response was already measured and taken as null compared to the giant’s own thoughts.

“I…don’t suppose I could show you some if you’d be interested.” At your widening lids, his twitching hands come up to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as a vermilion hue blossoms like a flower over his visible skin. Dark eyes like broken obsidian pay more attention to your shoes than your face.

“N-not, eh, scheiße, I only meant I–” Watching him stutter was similar to what a high schooler would do when he was called out during an assembly. Though, your giggle makes him clear his throat and pause with a stiffening spreading to his legs. His body seems to deflate, taking your reverence for his soft inward nature as making fun or at worse, a blatant rejection. The delicate makeup of his psyche was on display, though you didn’t know. “I’m…I’m sorry, Ma’am–”

“I’d love to see your artwork, König,” you begin, pulling the watercolor pad closer to your body instinctually, cheeks hot. The man perks up, and you can see his heart hammering through his clothes when his eyes blaze with light. “How about I give you my number and I’ll text you a day I’m free and we can work something out? A local café or library sound good?”

“I…yes, that sounds wonderful.”

—

You throw your soaked coat on the hook as you shut the door, hating how the frigid rainwater had wetted your hair, though still holding it as a blessing. At least no one could see the tear tracks as you walked back to your apartment.

Kicking off heavy boots and peeling the slick layers of fabric from your chest with a sloping sound, you flick on the lights with a shaking finger and a sniffle. Wet footprints are left over the rugs and hardwood as the phantom shuffles over them, beelining to the bathroom to strip.

Your mind was preoccupied as you slipped out of heavy fabric, the pile already on the floor creating a large puddle that you threw a towel on and left as it was.

“He…he’d tell me if he didn’t like me anymore, right?” Whispering, the broken words meet air as you toss on a large shirt – the hem meeting your knees as a pair of thick sweatpants follow.

Quite the look for someone who was having an internal battle. Your friends would say you looked like you were minutes away from grabbing a tub of ice cream and sobbing over a rom-com. The quick-witted part of you confessed that the idea wasn’t even that bad if you threw in a glass of beer. Preferably the shitty kind so you could complain about it and distract yourself.

“Get it together…” You would not cry over a guy that hadn’t even asked you out officially, but with that familiar sting in the back of your eyes, you hissed that König wasn’t just any guy.

You’d really liked him, and for what it was worth, your heart would have exploded if he had asked you out.

He was kind – respectful. Utterly adorable when he was speaking so passionately about his artwork and his parents who he held on a larger-than-life pedestal. König’s heart was just as big as his body, that gorgeous, bear-like body, and…oh, you’d wished he would like you just as much as you liked him.

Before you could stop the wave of hopelessness, the tears were already dribbling down your face, and the dark apartment was echoing with the barely-there sobs that hit the walls.

—

When you hadn’t answered him in the next two hours and his calls were going to voicemail, König was hit with a train’s worth of worry. Feet tapping faster than unusual and eyes were finicky as they passed over documents.

Although his contract with KorTac wasn’t exactly like his own had been in the military, the hyper-vigilance was still ingrained bones-deep. The Austrian man held his personal relationships tightly – and if someone wasn’t answering him, the anxiety reserved for large, uncontrollable, crowds reared its ugly head. König wasn’t sure when it had happened, but you had entered that loyal group consisting of his parents and a few work friends in an incredibly small amount of time.

He really should have bit the bullet and gone out with you today, the man acknowledged as he slipped out of his office and tried once more to get in contact with you. König watched the icon of your smiling face go straight to the familiar voice that in any other circumstance, he would have wanted to listen another moment too.

“...Thanks for calling! I’m not able to speak with you right now, but go ahead and leave a message–”

“Come on, Bӓrchen.” König lightly growls, hanging up and stuffing the infernal device into his cargo pant’s side pocket.

His usually hidden face was twisted up with worry, so commonly lit with bloodlust on Ops now left in a state of unknown. It was stupid to think like this, but how could he not? In such a small amount of time, you’d made him fall for you like a bird does the sky; that thin line between falling and flying caught underwing.

That was why he’d been making excuses, you see.

You were so…good…that he’d been worried about the way he carried himself; second-guessed small actions like a hand on the small of your back in public, or a comment about how nice you looked.

Did she take that the wrong way?

Why did I tell her that?

I hope she doesn’t think that I’m rude…

You were messing with his mind with every turn, but it wasn’t even all that, either. His size also played a part. Your form was so small as it trailed beside him on walks through the city – it fit in the clutch of his arm easily.

König was just scared he might break you, he’s never had to be…gentle so often before. It was against everything he’d been taught in the last decade or so.

Pushing open the front door of the KorTac: Private Military Contractor building, the man pushes on with a frown over his scarred lips and a drawn-in expression. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten his surgical mask in his office, along with a jacket, and braved the volatile winds and slapping rain in a slight jog, an athletic shirt tight across his chest.

By the time he’d reached your apartment building, his hair was dark and stuck to his skin, slight puffs of breath escaping his lips and wracking shivers along his spine. König ascended the stairs in double steps, agile as his heart pounded.

Being ex-military left him with an undeniable state of readiness.

With heavy knuckles and panting breath, his hand quickly rasps against the door, and after a second of no sound, he does it again.

“Bӓrchen, it’s me. Are you there?” König’s shoulders are set, ready to batter the door down at the barest hint of something wrong. He calls your name but like a voice on the wind, there’s no answer. Not even a shadow under the barrier, a whiff of your shampoo.

Grunting, strained eyes going grim, the man’s hand encompasses the handle, arm and body going parallel to the wood. His hips tense, feet grinding over the floor as they set. But the nearly missed footsteps that his ears twitched at gives him pause.

After a few moments of intense listening, his body stone-stiff and eyes spaced out, there’s a clicking of a lock.

König moves back swiftly, hands going to rest at his sides, and when your face graces his vision, a large weight is lifted. Until he realizes that your eyes are red-rimmed. His lids go startlingly wide, fingers coming up to curl into themselves near his middle, but you speak before he does.

With a hatred for interrupting others, König keeps his lips sealed and watches with a concerned once-over and nervous lungs.

Your hand is clenched over the door frame, the muscle of your tongue licking at your lips as beads of water fall from your locks.

“What are you doing here, König?” With a voice more hoarse and dry than a desert. The man itches at the side of his hawk nose, hesitant about what he sees.

You’d never been like this before – always so happy.

“I…” He trails off quietly, seeing your eyes unwilling to meet his own. “Are you…alright?”

The Austrian’s fingers jerk when you laugh, and a surprised blink later he’s coming closer to check on you, hand almost outstretched before he sees the size difference and thinks better of it. He just taps on your cheek instead, delicately, like a hit from a flower.

“Sweet one? Please tell me what is wrong. You weren’t answering your phone.” He wants to beg for you to look at him, plead. “It made me worry for you. Why did you not respond?”

“So you want me to respond when you’re obviously bailing on me for what,” you pull back, disappearing partially behind the door. König watches with a still body as your arms go to wrap around your waist, dread creeping up his throat. “The third time? Fourth? I guess I’ve lost count.”

The man’s lips go thin, eyes crinkling as an expression of pure self-hatred takes hold. He had stupidly hoped you wouldn’t notice that. When times got tough for him in the past – whether with the schoolyard bullies or an operation on wrong, avoidance was usually his best tactic; it was one he had fallen back into time and time again without fail. But he’d never told you that.

And now he looked like a proper Arschloch.

But you’re not done yet. When you leave the door open and disappear inside the dark apartment, König follows after like a lost puppy, water still dripping from his strong chin and stuck in his stubble. Cursing himself out in his head.

“Ach, du Depp, jetzt hast du‘s getan. Die eine gute Sache ruiniert, die du hattest, oder...?" He mutters, slipping out of his boots and frantically looking after you as your form goes to the couch. König closes the front door and stays in the foyer, fingers twiddling and mouth opening and closing.

You hadn’t even looked at him yet, and you’d barely seen him without a mask on.

The Tv was on, playing some show that he’d never seen and he doubted you were watching. Your body plops to the couch with a shrieking of springs and bouncing of pillows. A small huff escapes your lips, though you speak no more.

König clears his throat again, a nasty nervous habit along with the fidgeting, as he takes a few steps forward. The finger of his right hand goes to spread through his hair, pushing the strands back like a red wave and unintentionally slicking them to his skull. The clicking of his jaw reverberates in his ears as he resets it, picking at the palate scar under his left nostril.

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it fitfully and already his face is reddening. König looks away from you for a moment, breathing before shuffling over like a guilty child would on drowned socks. He places one leg on the floor and kneels down in front of you so he can better look into your creased face.

“Bӓrchen,” he liked calling you that – little bear – because the comparison was enough to make him smile every time it passed his lips. It was such an endearing term that it became difficult to look past the blatant harm he could inflict on you if he wasn’t careful. While his size made him perfect for the field, home life was, well, let's just say he could easily force his way through a crowd. Not that he would, of course. But at any rate, that was what you were to him – a little bear. “I…I have to confess to you that I have been avoiding you, yes? That much has been,” a stiff breath is taken in. “Obvious.”

Your head turns to the side, knees brushing his own as you hold your hands in your lap. Behind König the show continues to play, spreading a silver light over the living room and the continuous droning of voices.

Not knowing whether it would be frowned upon or not, and with a steadying breath for confidence, the man loops a cold finger under your chin; bringing you back to him and finally setting your glossy eyes ahead.

He sees you blink in surprise when you find him maskless, and a faint smile flicks over his lips when your expression goes shy. Cautious like a bird.

“It was of no fault of your own, Sweetling, I ask that you believe me. I’ll try to explain the best I can, Ja? If you’ll let me, though, I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“If you don’t like me anymore, you can just say it…Stop dragging me on, please.” His heart stops, mouth still partially open before a sharp breath is sucked in. “I don’t know if I can take that anymore.” The pang in his chest hurts immensely, like taking an arrow and peeling back skin. You look at him so hopelessly, broken beyond belief as though a piece of you was being ripped out.

“W-why do you say that?” König tries to desperately stop the wetness of your tears from falling, shaking his head and cupping both of your cheeks, rubbing at the flesh in agony. “No, no, no, Dear One. That’s not what it is at all, I beg of you to listen.” In the fever, he switches between his native tongue and English, fingers shaking though not from the drenched clothes. “Meine Schöne, oh, meine Schöne. Bitte hör auf zu weinen.“

He takes quick breaths and finds in himself that he would do anything to stop you from crying – take a bullet, run a marathon, or learn to fly. Name it, any of it. Anything to wipe away the sadness that lives in your expression as if it even belonged there in the first place

“Do not cry over me, please, I-I,” König’s tongue trips over itself, but he persists, a similar burn in the back of his nose. “I…You scare me, Bӓrchen,” that gets your attention, creased eyes and a loose jaw going to give him full observation.

What?! Your expression screams.

Face on fire, the Austrian continues with intense eyes, dark obsidian awash with pure light that reflects stars. Overflowing with anxious tears that he refuses to let fall.

He can’t lose you. No, no, not you. You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Damn him – damn his own consciousness that’s more of a betrayer than Brutus. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go…

“...What?” Your voice wavers, nose twitching so adorably that the man is momentarily stunned.

“I am afraid of you, my Dear. Utterly and wholly.” König sucks down a breath, now the one unable to continue the stare-off. His foot shifts. “I am afraid of what you do to me. Your smile, Gott, your smile. A-and the way you speak, how you react so honestly to my paintings like you care with all of your heart.” He laughs wetly when you smile dimly, continuing as he caresses your skin. “Everything down to your very bones is like…like…” König’s words fumble, because comparing you to something earthly was impossible to him.

“Ever since I met you in that art store, I cannot string together words with any semblance of meaning when I am around you. Bӓrchen, you have entrapped my mind, and I am afraid.”

He watches you breathe in slowly, tears no longer falling, though the evidence still haunts him. The man’s chest lets go of a tightly wound knot, the anvil on the other side just narrowly missing his heart as the sweat on his brow evaporates.

“A-and,” König sighs, shaking his head and moving his hands to tightly hold your own in your lap. How could he explain the last part of this dilemma? He bluntly states, “you’re small.”

A brief moment of silence bleeds like a wound, long and slow, until a tiny snort echoes. Full-blown laughter emanates not even a second later, and he watches your body heave forward and slot itself with your nose in his shoulder. König’s blush stains all the way down his neck, but minuscule giggles also fall from him in retaliation to yours. His great arms wrap themselves around your waist, dragging you slightly closer as he breathes deeply.

Your scent pulls him under like a ship at the water, riding great waves with sea beasts under the waves guiding the vessel along its course.

“Everyone’s small compared to you.” Your mumbling in his shoulder makes his grip tighten, side-eyeing your visage as his head tilts down. “Not my fault you got every gene that made you sprout like a damn tree.”

With your lips caressing his neck, he blinks softly down at you, amused, as his breath mingles with your hair. He lets you speak, getting it all off your chest and feeling stupid for how he had been avoiding this.

“You’re afraid because you’re so big, then? That you might hurt me?”

“Ja.” Your hands circle around his shoulders, and with a sigh that leaves the man short of breath, you shimmy back and face him, fingers playing with the base of his neck; pulling at tiny hairs.

“Don’t you think being worried about that means something? And, c’mon,” you smile lightly to him, and he watches closely, fingers moving along your spine. “With how conscious you are of your body, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening.”

Hands grasp his neck, and with a bobbing Adam’s apple, König yields to your pull, angling his head to you as your back straightens. Watching with awe; your silhouette bathed in silver light and eyes fatigued, though never more beautiful. You’re beaming.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, okay? So stop worrying about it, you big dope – and stop ditching me!” The Austrian’s dark eyes are fastly moved from one spot on your face to another, cataloging every bump and pore to memory.

He’d never been this close to you before, though he’d fantasized about it. And what you were telling him…it’s like his body deflates with relief, and a genuine, boyish, smile blossoms.

“Safe? W-with me, Bӓrchen? Oh-oh, my…” A kiss suddenly hits his forehead, and if you continued doing things like this, he was sure he’d explode. His body was vibrating with pure bashfulness; it was so odd to be complimented and doted on by someone that wasn’t his close family. For someone to reassure him of his flawed concerns.

She feels safe with me.

How could he tell you how happy that made him to hear aloud?

“Hey,” hands cup his jaw, and his spaced-out eyes snap back to you instantly, blinking away the rose-colored fog. You shake his head back and forth until he’s chuckling, like a kid again, and his grip catches your wrists to make you stop. Your breath fans over his blazing cheeks like a wind sent from Zephyrus himself, and the sticking clothes to his body matter little. “No more leaving me hanging, okay? I miss you, König. I want to be around you.”

The eyes that travel down his scarred and freckled face leave him slightly self-conscious, but as if sensing this, your lips curve. Before he could utter a grunt of surprise, your kiss had connected with the scar on his forehead, as well as the palate. Just brushing the top of his lips as his large nose poked your cheek.

“Mein Gott.” König gasps, eyes fluttering shut when you pull back and a grin slashes your face. A whisper meets the room.

“Thank you for showing me your handsome face, mein Schöner, I’ve been wondering what you looked like.” Shyly scanning his features, the redhead lets your fingers trace his flesh, shivers left in their wake, and a soft sigh.

If he opens his eyes, he’s afraid he’d start crying. So he lets you touch his scarlet flesh, nearly the same shade as his hair, though the auburn is more deep-set. Shivering every time you lay another press of your lips to a blemish; more addictive than drugs.

“You’re going to kill me,” König pleads, “but if this is punishment for causing you pain, I will gladly bear it.”

“Sly.” You smirk, pressing one more peck to his nose, and pulling back. He grumbles in his throat before his eyes peel open slowly; pupils blown wide and mouth parted. “Are you alive down there?”

“Barely. Perhaps I’ll need another kiss to tell, yes?”

“You’re horrible.” Looking at his clothes, your eyes suddenly go grim. Like you’d just noticed the state of him now that he was kneeling in front of you and struck by your beauty. “And shivering.” You huff. “Why didn’t you start by saying you were soaked to the bone, König?”

He looks to the ground, and you try to shuffle past and grab him a towel, but his arms trap you. You find yourself in a chest faster than you can blink, hands splayed over a pec that jerks as you’re lifted up.

König hears you squeak and laughs, throwing you up into a bridal-style hold easily. Laughing chest-deep, you curl under his chin and quickly comment, “what are you doing?!”

“Hush, Bӓrchen,” the man squishes you closer, “I’ll find a towel, don’t strain yourself.”

You direct him to the bathroom after he sets you on your bed, hearing the pounding of rain outside as he sneaks off.

The room smells of your shampoo, and König takes a pastel towel from the wrack after half-closing the door, slapping it to his head and violently rubbing it back and forth. Lost in his elevated thoughts and happy demeanor, the knock on the wood is almost missed. He’s just about to take off his shirt and wring it out when he blinks at the sound.

“König – I’ve got some spare clothes, but I doubt they’ll fit you well enough.” An amused twitch of his lips later, he’s opening the door to your soft face, staring down at it. Standing shyly, your eyes crease; head tilting. “Sleepover?”

The man looks at the pile of fabric and nods kindly, a lofty feeling in his bones.

“Yes, please. They’re perfect, vielen Dank.” It isn’t long before he’s coming back out, a shirt that barely fits over his wide chest and a pair of sweats clinging to his hips. But he didn’t mind.

They smelled like you, and thus, he smelled like you. König quickly found out that drawing wasn’t the only thing that could calm him.

An embarrassed smile and a sheen of giddiness never leave his face.

He slides into bed with you, and you quickly latch under his arm, limbs tangling with his own as his fingers twitch over the width of the base of your shoulder blades. An easy expulsion of air leaves him as your weight settles, back curving to the make of the mattress.

The words leave him in the delicate silence; water hitting the window and during the exploration of souls. Cheeks hot and heart hammering.

“Sei mein?” Be mine?

He feels your grin, nose nuzzling his flesh like it was the perfect pillow, and his heart speeds like a shooting star.

“Mein Herz war immer deins. Ja.” My heart was always yours. Yes.

He stays awake for a long while, listening to your breathing and staring at the ceiling, running knuckles over your spine and staying silent.

Smiling.

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blocksgame · 10 months

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Tips on character voices when writing fic

This is written in mind for people writing fic in MCYT/QSMP/DSMP/Life series/etc kind of fandoms. But if anyone finds it useful for anything else, well then, hell yeah.

Character voice is big in all, uh, fiction, and mimicking it in any fanwork is big. But I think it’s especially big in these fandoms where the voices are so distinct – it’s usually how a Real Person Somewhere (the streamer) talks, versus something very scripted that you’d see in a TV show or novel. And it can be a big difference in your character sounding generic versus really feeling true to the original.

Listen to a bunch of your subject talking. If you want to write a character well, watch vods from their point of view, or episodes where they show up a bunch. Take note of what they say and how.

2. If you don’t know how to start doing that: try literally writing down what they say. Transcribe an actual exchange in fic-format. You probably won’t want to publish a literal exchange from canon, but it will give you a sense of how to physically write what they say.

3. If you do this (or just pay attention to how they talk), you will get a lot of: Stumbling, pauses, repeating words, filler words, weird sentence constructions, fragments, etc. I love em! Here’s something that comes through in improv much more than in novels or movies: Most people, even very charismatic people, are not very eloquent when they speak. Writing out conversations or sentences will give you a sense of the unique and delightful way in which your subject is not eloquent. vvvvv way more under cut vvvvv

(People use a LOT of filler/etc when they speak. It’s reasonable to cut back on this if it’s interfering with a nice-looking or readable result. I believe this is the eternal struggle of people who write transcripts – you want the transcript to be accurate, but there are also a lot of things you can obviously simplify and not lose the meaning. So you’ll end up falling somewhere on this spectrum either way. But I do think a lot of mediocre/generic fic dialogue is very stylized – it doesn’t sound like your guy because your guy literally wouldn’t say that. They would say it worse and more confusingly.)

(I’m serious, if you’ve never sat down with a short non-completely-scripted clip or real conversation or whatever and just written out exactly what was said, do it. It will make you better at writing.)

4. Wonda-cat made a really incredible list [link] of characterizing speech patterns for the Dream SMP members. But you can also do your own reconnaissance and come up with your own patterns, common phrases, etc.

5. You do not have to get EVERYTHING right. You’re not going to, like, get so deep into the speaker’s brain that you can produce “exactly what they would have said if they were somehow in your fic.” That is impossible. You’re just trying to evoke a character, and if you get a few turns of phrase to ring true, you’re doing great.

6. A lot of these people are popular because they are hilarious. Include jokes. Yes, even if your thing is angsty or serious. A lot of the most serious lore I can think of from, e.g., the Dream SMP or 3rd Life or the QSMP - the really story-defining, life-and-death moments - were absolutely hysterical. If you’re writing characters who are usually funny, then add some humor. It can heighten angst via contrast and a sense of realism. Ask yourself what a funny streamer would make jokes about if they were possessing a character in this situation.

7. Some people have the mystical ability to “hear” character voices in their head, and read things in their voice. If you can, do this with all of your dialogue during the editing process. This won’t always get you there, but sometimes it can catch things that sound wrong by invoking "that's really hard to imagine them saying". If you don’t have this power, try recruiting a friend who does.

8. So there’s dialogue and then there’s narration that’s still from a character’s point of view. I’ve mostly given you tips about dialogue, but a lot of this is also true for narration. IMO, narration is less about phrasing things the way the subject would, and more about recreating the way they think. I don’t have concrete rules on how to do this, but here is my wisdom:

You can get eloquent again - narration is more of an abstract and artistic process than dialogue.

Spend time with your subject’s source material.

Pay attention to what they notice and care about. How do you think they think?

Don’t be afraid to get weird with it.

That last one also applies to all art ever.

9. MCYT tends to give you a great boon you don’t see in other media: what the speaker says to their chat/audience when nobody else is listening. This can be incredibly characterizing even if you’re writing a story where people don’t have chats. It’s your person talking about their thought processes and feelings! Mine that shit.

10. Some questions that might help guide both characterizing narration and dialogue (that you’d get from dialogue):

How open are they about their feelings?

How often do they lie? What do they lie about?

What kind of metaphors do they use, if any?

How quickly does their mood change?

How can you tell when they’re in different moods?

What kind of things do they pay attention to?

How formal is their speech?

11. Finally, this is a little odd, but I find it’s much, much easier to write a character that sounds good if I, the author, like them and am rooting for them at least a little bit. If a character needs to be there who you don’t love, try to love them. Or at least get a sense of what other people love about them. It just makes everything else easier. I swear to god.

Happy writing out there!

#mcyt fic #fanfiction #writing advice #writing tips #fanfiction tips #qsmp fic #dsmp fic #works for whatever too I'm just not gonna try to tag everything #fanfiction advice

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queers-gambit · 5 months

Text

The Battle Above the God’s Eye

part one: Sands of Time

prompt: decades after the Stepstones, it's his turn to be rescued.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: i'm not the happiest with this piece, so i'll most definitely (probably) write an alternative when the time comes and the show does the Battle. y'all know me by now, you know i love me a good ol' reader-insert and i didn't want to wait years to publish some kind of sequel so here we are.

warnings: reader isn't explicitly a Targaryen but we had to make this work and i'm burnt the fuck out. so fuck it, dragon rider reader. cursing, books spoilers, violence, imagination required, maybe Red Priestess reader, mention of more Little Birds (let author live), toxic family (duh), heavily encouraged imagination, depictions of death, angst, some hurt and comfort i think ? missing warnings 'cause wonky brain goin' wonky.

"There's rumor, Mistress, of a dragon the color of night," the hooded figure informed. "It nests in the Ruins of Ancient Valyria, seen by farmers and countryfolk; they say his wings beat like thunder. It's a colossal shadow they fear to engage, but after hearing your ransom, they reported it."

You hummed as you took a sip of scalding tea, finding comfort in the heat, musing, "I've been to the Ruins myself on two seperate excursions, I promise you, friend, there is no dragon that nests there."

"It's come from the East, a new beast in the sky."

"I require proof if I am to pay the ransom."

The man with a hood over his head reached for his rucksack and rummaged, a moment later, placing two items on the polished mahogany table between you both. One was unmistakably a dragon's tooth, and when you examined it, there was still clotted blood on the root - assuring it was a fresh pull. The second was a large black scale that weighed at least a dagger's worth.

You smirked, "This is promising. Where in the Ruins has it been seen? Who procured these artifacts?"

You discussed specifics with the man for an hour, offering him a hefty finder's fee after getting the name of the village the man had gathered his own information from. It was a messy journey from there; leaving the home you had made in the decades since the Stepstones to head for what was probably another dead end in Ancient Valyria. You were something akin to a magistrate, the people saw you as a figurehead, a leader; their person of authority who they were all too happy to follow.

Your village flourished, growing in size, number, popularity, and strength by the passing day. The people seemed happy, wealth flowing from exports and trade, and apparently, a few cartographers have begun the process of updating a few maps to add your village's name to history.

Much had changed in your time away from your Rogue Dragon Prince, but you knew that was all coming to an end soon. Your Lord of Light had shown you much in your flames, one of which was a repeating image of you, mounted atop a dragon all your own, soaring over the Narrow Sea with distinct purpose. You weren't a Targaryen, but your religious devotion seemingly gave you the ability to walk amongst beasts and their flames.

Exploring Ancient Valyria took over a year on foot.

You had plenty of encounters with the Stone Men, but all met their merciful demise - those left after that steered clear of you and your Valyrian Steel sword. Around the ruins of the ancient volcano that hadn't erupted since The Doom, you found a graveyard of goat, sheep, and cattle bones. There were bigger skeletons of aquatic creatures, something you found incredibly fascinating - what fully grown dragon went deep diving?

Soon, you found scat. For those who don't spend time in the wilderness or who are simply unfamiliar with the term, "scat" refers to waste produced by wild animals. Yeah, you're reading correctly, after you found the plethora of skeletons, you found dragon shit.

So, you knew you were closer than before. But the fucker still alluded you to the point you felt insane circling the Ruins.

You located about three different potential caverns, investigating them all with caution, but finding them all empty. Feeling exhausted from the months of searching, you claimed one of the caves as your own; hunting for a meal after gathering adequate fire wood. You listened to the untamed wilds of Valyria as you ate whatever you roasted, trying to distinguish familiar sounds of an approaching dragon.

Or perhaps even a distant one!

You'd take any sign!

It'd been weeks since you found the dragon droppings, no other signs appearing. You would search new areas for days, then return to your cave for rest; feeling disconnected from reality the longer you lingered in the ruined empire. You wondering what your village was doing, you were curious if the young woman, Ferona, had a baby boy or girl, if they had erected the new buildings you left blueprints for in an effort to create opportunist housing and houses of worship - as your people had requested.

How did the krill and shrimp season fair? What weddings happened this past spring? How was the irrigation system holding up?

Weeks drug by slowly. Weeks turned to longer months. Two years, you spent in that Gods forsaken ruin of a city - but couldn't find it in you to abandon your search.

Your Lord of Light had yet to send word, yet set your heart ablaze every time you "decided" to go home. You stared into the flames every night, desperate for any indication you were on the right path, but nothing was seen - nothing was said - nothing was shown to you. Until one night, during a torrential downpour and thunderous storm, you were shivering, drenched to your core, fighting the wind to let you keep your flames alive.

And there, in the dying, flickering warmth, you saw it. With wide, unblinking eyes, you stared into the flames harder; unsure how long you remained in the tranquil state before a particularly strong gust of wind nearly pushed you face-first into the embers. You gasped, looking around as the smoke nearly choked you as it filled the cave; stumbling out into the rain as you coughed and patted your chest. Stumbling slightly from malnourishment and delirium, you leaned on the outer shell of your "home", panting with relief before there came a screech so fearsome, you were then cowering into the wall with fear.

You dropped to your knees, huddled into the rock formation; the ground trembling as something enormous touched down. You gasped when through the haze of sideways rain, two nostrils flared and heaved thick plumes of smoke; reddened from the ignited flames deep within an invisible chest. You flattened against the wall, four taloned paws striking the ground and causing it to crack, quake, and tremble. With the fleeting clouds, you used the moon's light to distinguish the beast that loomed closer to you; over you; and then, in your face.

A long, blackened snout nearly pressed into your chest; fabric of your tunic caught in the razor sharp teeth. You had faced death, you had faced beasts, you had faced hacking axes and swinging swords. You had faced the wrath of the Queen Alysanne's court, the rumors of the common folk, and judgment from both man and God. But nothing was like this moment: a wild dragon staring you down, sniffing your chest and stomach, debating if it should just open it's mouth and eat you whole yet or not.

Thankfully, it chose an alternative route.

You're not fully sure how it happened, but you dedicated two years to finding this terrible beasty, and yet, it only took about 6 weeks to bond with the (obviously) young thing. Time with your Dragon Prince proved most useful, creating a bond so secure, you were beginning to wonder if someone deep in your bloodline had mated with a Targaryen. It was natural, the way you both became accustomed to one another; living together on a carbon-dated land long doomed.

The lessons from Daemon came flying back to you. You practiced your High Valyrian, laughing when you obviously got a word or two wrong because the dragon would snort at you. In the light, she was still the color of the night, but her scales were dusted the same gold as her eyes. She was impressive, she was huge in size but nowhere near Vhagar. In fact, you'd wager she had outgrew Caraxes - the only dragon you had true experience with.

Speaking of Caraxes, you were on the shores of Old Valyria, debating how you were going to convince your new companion to join you back "home" in the village, when suddenly, your beast gave a defensive growl.

Looking to the skyline, you spotted the distant dragon and frowned. This dragon wasn't the color of flames like Caraxes was, no, instead, it was a murky blob in the sky with two wings. You offered calming words to your dragon in her native language, not sensing danger, but your beast was unhappy leaving you in the open. Her tail curled around you to corral you back into her body as the muddy brown dragon landed with a thunderous shake a respectable distance away.

Your name was begged by the rider descending from who you recognized as a wild dragon by the name of Sheepstealer.

"Nettles? That you, love?" You asked in skepticism, managing out of your dragon's grasp. "What're you doing here? You all right?"

"I needed to find you," she panted. "I-I need you help - it's all - it's all gone wrong! Please!"

"What's wrong? The fuck's happened?"

"Do you know nothing, Auntie!? Do you know nothing of the war!?"

Your eyes rolled, "Watch that tone with me, girl. The Dance of Dragons is of no concern of mine, it had barely started when I came here."

"Well - it's your concern now," she insisted. "You took me under your wing - you helped raise me in a village you built from the ground, despite not ever needing to - "

"Your mother was a dear friend of mine," you cut her off sharply. "She was kind to me when I came back to Essos, let me stay with her and your father. When I set out on my own, she was always a friendly face, and when my settlement was established..."

"She came to you for help after getting pregnant with me," Nettles nodded. "You've told me this before."

"Then you should know better by now that I owed your mother more than my life, so, raising you was the least I could've done. A life for a life."

"And as such, you let me go into the world with stories filling my head of a handsome Dragon Prince that saved you from the Crabfeeder!" You scoffed at her words, ready to argue, but she rushed, "He's in trouble, Auntie."

You paused, finding no lie in the girl's eye. Slowly, you asked, "Come again?"

"I found him, Mistress," she nodded. "After I got back to Westeros, I found your Prince Daemon - the ones from the stories! He's... He's brutish and harsh, they call him Rogue, but he was kind to me when I told him I knew you. When he heard your name, Lady, he just - he insisted on keeping me close. He protected me, even against his wife - Princess Rhaenyra."

Your head cocked, "Hmm... He usually did have a taste for younger flesh. I'm not surprised he took to you - "

"No, no, no, Mistress, not like that," she insisted desperately. "He was kind, educational - similar to a mentor."

"I see."

"He needs your help."

"Prince Daemon does not need rescuing, he is no damsel."

"He searches for Prince Aemond," she informed, making you lift your chin slightly. Though lost in the wild of Valyria the past two years, you were still well versed in the affairs of King's Landing; staying updated, curtesy of your Lord, the Lord of Light: R'hllor. In your village, you were known to pay for any accurate information - eventually hiring your own spies to relay trustworthy information from around surrounding cities and villages. Nettles was one of your Little Birds.

You sighed, "And? What of it - Aemond killed Lucerys, did he not? Since he married his niece, her children are now his step-children, right? Daemon is within his rights to want some form of vengeance - it's war, Nettie, it's never fair to anybody.

"He will not survive this, you don't understand! It's horrible, Mistress, please, he-he-he's deranged. Mad with grief, lost to his wife's useless fucking war. It'll be the death of him, Auntie, please!" She paused, seeing you just stare back at her; so she begged again, "Please!"

You nodded, "What do you want me to do, Nettie? Hmm?"

"You've told me those stories! I remember them well! You always said he came back for you, saved you from The Crabfeeder," she reminded, making you stiffen. "Does he not deserve the same? Or at least a chance? Rhaenyra will not help, she'll kill him herself I fear, but you can - you can help!"

You nodded, "I will consult the flames - "

"I am telling you - "

"I have heard you, girl!" You snapped, glaring at your Little Bird. "But there are greater forces at work than what you know, I cannot just so willfully trust the word of a child before flying off across the Narrow Sea. Allow me my time with my Lord, I will have an answer for you." Turning from her, you gathered whatever materials you could; setting it up in a small teepee before stepping back.

In High Valyrian, you gave your command. From over your shoulder, your beasty opened her mouth and shot a single flame at the structure.

On your knees, you muttered repeatedly; chanting, summoning your Lord of Light to come to you now in a great hour of need. And He did. Through the flames, you saw what R'hllor wanted to show you: the two Princes engaged in a brutally epic fight that would claim them both in the end...

Unless you left right that moment, as your Lord commanded.

"Make yourself safe, Nettles, go back home," you told her in a rush, catching the pouch of Gold Dragons she tossed you when you sprung into action - and for the first time, mounted your dragon. Like your minds were connected, the Great Shadow took to the sky - leaving Nettles and Sheepstealer behind, and you'd never see either again.

You remained high in the sky, being a blob to the naked eye should any dare to stare at the sun.

You only paused to let the Great Shadow dive into the Narrow Sea for a meal; surfacing with creatures in her jaws as you swam an exhausting broad stroke. Was it terrifying to swim in the open water? Absolutely, but your dragon seemingly kept any threats at bay. When she was satisfied with her meal, the Great Shadow scooped you onto her back and relaunched into the air again to continue your flight for Westeros. You both dried in the air.

The trip was draining.

It was grueling on you both.

Yet when you saw the distant shore, you couldn't help the spike of relief in your heart and veins.

Once in Westeros, you were forced to ground yourselves in the open area of the Stormlands because you needed to know where to go since Nettles hadn't been sure where to send you specifically. Using the usual thunderstorm as cover, you had to separate from the Great Shadow; leaving her in the dark as you ventured to the closest village.

With the pouch of Gold Dragons Nettles gave you, you paid for information that you needed. You were told all the nitty gritty details about the Dance of the Dragons that you've missed, understanding what (Nettles and) the Lord of Light had been trying to tell you for years: the Black Queen would be Prince Daemon's death.

The time had come for you to return his favor from the Stepstones. If this worked the way you wanted it to, you wouldn't be his first, second, nor third wife, but his fourth and final. You knew what you had to do.

"What do you know of their whereabouts?" You asked the innkeeper who wiped down the bar you leaned on.

"The Princes?" She asked, tisking right after. "The One Eyed Prince has been burning the Riverlands for almost two weeks now. The Rogue Prince was in Maidenpool but he's called his nephew to meet him at, uh, oh... Oh, bullocks, what's that haunted castle? The one that was torched?"

"Harrenhal?"

She snapped her fingers at you, "That's the one!"

"Fuckin' Hell," you muttered, wiping your eyes. "What's your thinking, love? 'Bout this war?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Stupidest thing I've endured so far. How silly, the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it, or so says our liege lord. So we must all pay their price in Fire and Blood."

You nodded slowly, "Who do you think holds the better claim t'the Throne?"

"Depends on your views," she muttered, "but in truth, it doesn't matter to me - so long as this all comes to an end. But between us?" She leaned in, glancing around before muttering, "The Bitch Queen would burn us all. Can't say if King Aegon would be much better, but at least we'd know what we were dealing with."

"And if he was another Maegor?"

"Can't be worse than the Black Queen. Hear they call her Maegor with Tits."

You smirked, chuckling lightly, "Thank you, ma'am, for your words." You offered her a few Gold Dragons, repeating, "Harrenhal?"

"Harrenhal," she nodded, accepting the payment. "I do not know if the One Eyed Prince will answer the Rogue Prince's challenge, but that is where he lures Prince Aemond - Harrenhal. Now, how's about a nice bowl of stew? You look drenched, love, and a bit skinny - you been eatin'?"

"Your kindness is refreshing in this shit-for-a-kingdom."

You winked at her and tapped the bar in parting before turning for the door, and into the rain you ventured once more. You didn't notice the cold, your Lord kept you warm and moving; finding the Great Shadow, mounting, and shooting off into the unknown sky again.

It wasn't easy directing a dragon without a saddle nor any stabilizing reins, yet your beast was something of a decently smooth fly. You minimally directed her as you went, but in truth, her instincts directed you both more than anything. When the storm broke, you were soon flying over charred scores of land; homes smoldering and burning, the wind spreading the embers and never letting the fire fully die out.

"The fuck..." You muttered, sitting up straight as you flew through the carnage. "Seven Hells, he burnt it all, didn't he?" You whispered, needing to hold onto the spinal ridges of your dragon to keep balanced. "Gods be good," you gaped at the damage beneath you.

The sun moved into position, getting ready to set when you heard the horrible screams of feuding dragons. You couldn't see Harrenhal yet, but you heard the fight, and then, as the sun began to set, there came flashes of bright firelight that lit the sky to a new level.

It was nearly the shade of daylight with the way the flames danced against the setting sun. You were desperate to get closer, and after directing the Great Shadow over a set of charred rolling hills, you finally had Harrenhal in sight. "Go! Go, please! That's them - we need t'get there!" You begged through a small sob of panic, and if possible, your dragon flew all the faster.

You were so close, yet felt so far.

The air trembled when the pair of dragons, Vhagar and Caraxes, collided in the sky once more. They grappled and snarled and shrieked and blew flames and gnashed their teeth and slashed their talons. You paid no mind to the pregnant woman standing on the shoreline of the lake they fought over, and instead, focused on your task; feeling as if you were moving on pure instinct and adrenaline.

The Great Shadow dove low to the lake's surface as Caraxes and Vhagar came barreling to the ground. It all happened too fast. As the two dragons fell, you saw one man - in black armor - leap from his crimson beast with his Valyrian sword winking in the dying light. Just as his arm extended to pierce Dark Sister into Aemond's blind eye, the dragons were tussling enough to turn over and forced Daemon off their hide.

You gasped as you reacted - no fucking thought to your actions.

As the Great Shadow glided over the surface of the Gods Eye lake, you were leaping off her back to launch into the air; tackling the Rogue Prince hard enough to disrupt his impact on the water's surface. You hit the water all the same, but instead of it being like hitting fresh pavement, it was a softer landing due to the Great Shadow's expert and quick maneuvering.

Two dragons hit the water, three human bodies; sending a wave of water higher than the towers of Harrenhal's fortress. It was a shock to land in something so wet and cold, but your adrenaline was stronger than any feeling of freezing water. Your arms kept an iron-clad lock around Daemon's unconscious waist, surfacing as the lake rippled and churned from impact; turning a seeping red from the open wounds on the dragon sinking into the depths.

Prince Aemond never surfaced, and years from now, he'd be found still chained to Vhagar's saddle with Dark Sister still stabbed through his skull. His Red Witch standing on shore couldn't save him, it appearing that your Lord preferred the Rogue Prince to the One Eyed.

Keeping Daemon afloat was difficult, but to your shock, you were being gently propelled forward to the shore by a fatally injured Caraxes. You encouraged him best you could, trying not to choke on the water splashing around your frantic forms. When you were able, you started heaving and dragging Daemon up the lake's embankment; the crimson dragon crawling out of the lake behind you, slowly, heading towards Harrenhal. You wanted to offer the loyal beast aid or comfort, but you were much too preoccupied with his master that was dead weight in the water's surf.

You trembled as you swiftly hoisted his dragon winged helmet off to leave bobbing in the surf; unhooked his armor, shucking it off him and compressing his chest rapidly - just like a fisherman taught you to do.

"C'mon," you grunted. "C'mon, Daemon, breathe - fucking breathe, damnit! Please, come back to me - don't do this. I just found you again, c'mon, my Prince, breathe. Breathe, Daemon, don't give up - not now, not on us! Don't give up on us, c'mon, my Prince, breathe, w-we finally have our time." Sobs wracked your form. "Breathe, Daemon, please! Please! I'm back - I finally found you, please, my love, breathe!"

You shoved harder into his breast bone with increased ferocity until water came suddenly spewing from his lungs. You heard the Great Shadow land in the near distance, turning Daemon on his side to help him breathe better; choking the water out. You spoke in relief, "There, there you go, c'mon, love, breathe! Thank fucking Gods, you're all right, you're okay, get it out - you're okay, just breathe, my love."

Daemon choked your name in pure disbelief, holding one of your wrists in a vice grip that only briefly concerned you. He panted and relaxed into the embankment, loosening his grip as he turned over to look up at you in shock and wonder. "How is this possible?" He wheezed.

"It's a bit of a long story," you teased softly, caressing his cheek. "Bit of a boring tale, 'M afraid."

"How? How is - how can this be?"

"You needed me," you explained, "thought I'd return the favor since you saved me all those years ago, huh? You got me out of the sea, I got you out of the lake - we're even, yeah?"

He still panted, only staring at you as if he couldn't believe himself. "You've not aged a day," he whispered.

You smiled, petting his cheekbone with your thumb daintly. "You need rest, reprieve, aid," you whispered.

"No, no," he gulped, "not when I just got you back. T-Tell me 's done. Tell me we're done being apart."

"You have a wife still, Daemon. She won't let you go, she wouldn't let us be together."

"Tell me what your flames say."

"Now you trust my flames?"

"When they bring you back to me, yes - oh, fuck yes, I'll believe whatever those fucking flames say. Please, love, for us - consult your flames, tell me what they've said."

You frowned, petting a soaking wet lock of hair from his forehead. Quietly, you whispered, "My Lord showed me what was to pass if I did not come for you... This war, this Dance of Dragons, would claim your life, Daemon. Your wife, your niece... She'll be the end of you, my Prince. You will not survive if you go back to her. Neither of you will survive this... My Lord has shown me that Rhaenyra will meet her end in flames, but following her will cost you your life in water," you glanced at the lake. "Not a death befitting of a Targaryen Prince."

"And now?"

"Now, she will fight her own battles for the first time," you whispered, "and I will return home, and you will make a choice."

He smirked, "We've gone lifetimes apart, like you said before."

"We have."

"I would not go another day," he coughed, wincing in pain. "I do not think I can fight anymore anyways, love. Please... Please."

Daemon never begged. You swallowed harshly, asking him, "No? No more fighting?"

"No," he agreed. "'M so tired, my sweet. I-I can't do this forever," he half-slurred, making you perk up slightly in attention. "Retirement sounds all too appealing now. Rumor will spread that neither Aemond or I lived, it'll be the perfect escape."

You nodded in agreement, flinching when a new voice screeched, "YOU BITCH!"

The pregnant woman you saw on shore stormed towards you, making you chuckle dryly as you had already foreseen this Alys Rivers - pregnant concubine of the One Eyed Prince Aemond and fellow Follower of R'hllor. Alys was unique in the sense that her training was decent enough to ensnare Aemond (it seemed), but not so decent that the Lord yet favored her.

She wasn't more than ten feet from you when the Great Shadow opened her mouth and showered the Red Witch in holy flames; an end she surely did not see coming - not that R'hllor would've showed her. This all caught Daemon's attention, who flinched slightly when he had to turn and look; not expecting the flames nor the beast.

Then his eyes drifted over the land, breathing hitching, and he sat up with a painful groan. "Daemon," you worried, but instead of trying to get him down, you helped him up.

You knew what he saw.

When at Caraxes' side, you helped Daemon lower to his knees at his dragon's head. He whimpered and moaned, belly slashed open, wing torn apart; bleeding out into the cold soil he rested on. The Great Shadow moaned gently in sympathy, lowering herself around you three to let you grieve in peaceful, protective privacy and ease Caraxes to his next life.

The moon was fully in the sky when the crimson bloodwyrm took his final breath with the ebony giant's flames to warm you all. You weren't sure what could be done, but Daemon was pressing a tender kiss to his dragon's head before turning to face you - a lost, confused, vulnerable look coating his features. "Come on, love," you eased gently, helping him to his feet; knowing a few ribs were shattered and probably his clavicle, too.

"Where will we go now?"

"Well, I have somewhere safe for us t'live," you grunted in assurance, wobbling a little under his weight. "But we need rest for tonight. Any ideas?"

"I doubt anyone will venture to Harrenhal this night, should be safe..."

You agreed, and together, you and Daemon settled in the empty castle with the Great Shadow resting on the outskirts of the Keep. She was too big for the interior of the courtyard, so, she was left outside with Caraxes' corpse as you and Daemon settled in the room he had commandeered.

"How is this possible? How can you be here?" He asked, holding your hips as you worked between his spread legs. Daemon had minimal supplies at the ready; hopping up on a work bench to let you care for his injuries and wounds. He watched your every move with a softening look. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again, that I'd be cursed to only remember you in my dreams. Rhaenyra said I say your name a lot at night, when I sleep."

"I'm really here, Daemon, ease yourself," you offered an assuring grin, tending to the head wounds he obtained from the fight.

"How?"

"Nettles."

"What?"

"Nettles," you repeated with a smirk. "She's one of my Little Birds, Daemon. It was not entirely coincidence she found you..."

"So she said," he frowned. "But how - "

"She told me you needed me," you smiled softly. "And when I consulted the flames, I was shown what could be. I made a decision, I just wanted you safe, no matter what that meant."

"I just want you. Fuck," he seethed, squeezing your hips, "'s been fucking decades since I've even touched you."

"You're delirious," you teased. "Sleep deprived, maybe concussed."

"Perhaps all at once, but I finally have all I've dreamt of. Please," he whispered, "do not deny us longer. I've endured lifetimes - "

"Daemon, being here and now, you know I can't walk away. But we've time t'talk it all out, I need you to let me help your wounds - so sit still."

He nodded, "One thing I do not understand, though - the dragon? How did you...?"

"Spent two years in Valyria, looking for her."

"Why were you there?"

"Searching for a dragon, of course," you smirked. "She's impressive, isn't she? And from her size, I wager she can easily support us both back across the Narrow Sea."

He grit his teeth when you cleaned his open cuts and wounds, wrapping whatever clean cloth you had around the larger wounds; easing him out of his tunic to have better access to the blackened ribs he sported. "Would you tell me?" Daemon whispered some time later.

"Of what?"

"Your life since the Stepstones?"

"Oh," you chuckled, "sweet love, you know it was dreadfully boring without you."

"Doesn't seem it, you being in Valyria two years? That's not heard of, what was it like? How'd you survive? Why go looking for a dragon?"

This lead to you both laying in bed, hands held together, resting, but not sleeping. You just spoke quietly, fingertips tracing idly over each other's faces; sharing in each others lives that the other missed, reminiscing together in fond memories.

When morning broke, you had to move swiftly. Caraxes was left where he laid and after a final parting to the loyal beast and commandeering his saddle, together, you and Daemon mounted the Great Shadow. She wasn't a fan of the restraints, but once you and Daemon were mounted, she did not fuss as it was evident you humans had an easier time with the leather contraption.

"I must confess," Daemon whispered in your ear, using you as an anchor and leaning into your back, "I fear I might feel something akin to guilt for fleeing home."

"That's natural," you assured, "you're leaving family behind, 's never easy."

"There was no winning this war," he admitted, sighing. "I lead so many to their death... Destroyed my family - "

"From what I have heard, this is not your doing," you argued sharply. "That night, when Aemond attacked Lucerys, what were you to do? Leave that kind of atrocity without consequence? No, that is not in the Targaryen's nature. You did not start this war, Daemon."

"But I knew..."

"You knew what?"

"I knew Jace, Luke, and Joffrey were Harwin Strong's, not Laenor Velaryon's. We thought if we married her sons to my daughters, nobody would care much else about lineage - but we were wrong."

"It's okay to be wrong," you promised, leaning your head back to let your forehead rest against his temple. "It's okay to make mistakes or have regret. Tell me, do you wish to return to your wife? I will take you now, no quest - "

"No. No, I do not wish to leave you. This is... This is Rhaenyra's war, I've done my part. I'm free and finally with whom I belong."

"Now it's time to heal," you told him.

"Time to rest," he agreed, squeezing your waist and placing a few kisses to your neck. "This is where I should've been all this time... After the Stepstones, I should've stayed with you, none of this would've come to pass. I regret leaving you everyday - "

"I told you, for us to get here, to this point, now, we had to separate. But look where we are," you smiled back at him, the Great Shadow soaring higher in the sky to keep Westeros at a distance, "we will not be apart again. 'S you and me, love... Until our end, which we will greet together."

Daemon's lips found yours at long last, whispering, "Together," against them before sweeping his tongue against yours.

The port was lovely this time of day, sun high in the sky to give light to the fishermen and vendors hard at work. Sailors made port, calms were being shucked, different Aristocats trying to barter and trade on their journeys abroad. You smiled at the people you passed, grateful to be home after a prolonged absence; arm looped tight with Daemon's as you both strolled the pier.

"It's hard to imagine you've done all this in a lifetime or less," he mused, a hand folded over yours, dressed in the best clothes you could find. "It's s marvel, my sweet," his compliment was sincere.

"Thank you," you whispered, hugging his arm as your skirts swished around your ankles, just tickling your bare feet. "This season's expected to be bountiful," you told him, pointing to the various teams bringing crustaceans, fish, and other sea life in different crates and traps. "I expect there won't be much of an off-season."

He glanced around, "And you don't collect taxes?"

"Why would I?" You scoffed. "We're more dynamic than that. Everyone works for their place, if you wanted to think of it that way. They are not expected to contribute, but the village seems happier that way. Being close knit, helping one another, sharing wealth. No one person has complained, so, I figure it's working so far. Even if it didn't work, I still wouldn't charge them taxes - it'd be like charging them to live. Always seemed silly t'me."

"Morning, Mistress!"

"Morning, Don," you beamed, leading Daemon towards the dock. "How are you, kind sir? Looks as if you've been working all day already."

"Aye, up before the sun," he nodded, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Wanted t'thank yah, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, yeah, with that dragon? We're hauling in more ships," he chuckled, and just overhead, the Great Shadow glided over them all to head out to sea to fetch another round of ships. "Gets us out there quick, brings us back when done, 's like a wee bit of an assembly line, ain't it?"

You chuckled, "Sounds like it, friend. Uh, Don, have I introduced you to my husband?"

"Husband?" Don grinned, cocking his head, "No, Mistress, I wasn't aware you even had a suitor. Mariam don't tell me much gossip these days," he snickered, referring to his wife. "It's nice t'meet you," he told Daemon, "name's Don, just Don - no, it ain't short for nothin'."

Daemon smirked some, shaking the man's fishy hand boldly, "A pleasure, Don, Just Don."

"Oh, this one's got a bit uh humor, don't he?" Don laughed lightly. "What's your name, lad?"

"Daemon?" A voice answered for you all, and just above you, a little further on the pier, stood an aged Laenor Velaryon.

"Excuse us, Don," you spoke swiftly, confusion marring your features. He understood or sensed the slight tension, backing off to let you approach the "dead" knight.

"Oh, my - Y/N," Laenor breathed, another aged man at his side with what you assume to be his children. No question could be asked yet as your old friend launched himself into your arms, laughing merrily, giving you a tight squeeze with his still-toned arms. "Oh, the Gods are good for this!" He laughed, rocking you slightly, "Oh, how the Seven bless us."

"You're so dramatic," you laughed back, patting him happily until he pulled back. "But I must confess, I am so fucking confused - what is this? How are you here? I thought you died, Laenor, that's what ever spy reported."

"They should've," he nodded, glancing at Daemon, "but perhaps, the explanation will be better received after some wine?" He caressed your cheek in affection before looking at your husband, nodding, "It's good to see you again, my Prince. Or is it King Consort?"

"Neither, just Daemon," he corrected, your heart soaring a little at the idea that he would abandon his title so easily. Yet you knew, there was nothing to go back to for him.

"Well, how about I introduce my family?"

"Family?" You grinned, seeing him present the others.

"My husband," he gestured, giving his name. "And our kids," he introduced the other three.

"How?" You asked simply.

"We found a Red Priest who was willing to officiate the ceremony," Laenor explained, "and the kids were sired by different mothers, too."

"Whores," the husband smiled.

"Huh," you nodded in impression. "Well, perhaps wine is best to hear that tale, as well?"

"Perhaps," Laenor grinned. "Uh, but first, we should find accommodations - "

"Oh, come off it, you're staying with us," you waved. "Your belongings?"

"This is it," he half-shrugged, you eyeing the few rucksacks around their feet, neck, shoulders... "We heard of the prosperity here, thought it was worth the move."

"How right you are," Daemon answered. "Come, old friend." He picked up a few sacks for the kids and you looped your arm with Laenor's to lead the way. How good it was to have your friend back, your husband at your side, and a functioning, happy village with your placement amongst them most important... Everything you could've wished for, it seemed, came true.

And in your womb, a Dragon Seed was planted; soon to make its announcement known. Truly, a happier ending than you thought deserved - but R'hollr worked mysteriously, blessing those deemed worthy to spread his flames.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#daemon #prince daemon #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen x f!reader #daemon targaryen x female!reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen angst #prince daemon targaryen x fem!reader #prince daemon targaryen x f!reader #prince daemon targaryen x female!reader #prince daemon targaryen imagine #prince daemon targaryen fanfiction #prince daemon targaryen angst

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

Text

— when you stand up for him

Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+, v v suggestive, Bakugou’s always having nasty thoughts about you, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.9k.

Since you’d started working at Dynamight’s agency you’d found out firsthand how defamatory the media could be. There was often a mixture of positive and negative headlines for all the Pro-Heroes in the top fifty, some more negative than others. Cellophane had been stuck in a messy situation just last week when a saucy text chain had been leaked to the press, the lewd messages accompanied by a rather salacious picture of him in a state of undress. Obviously an attempt by the media to paint him in a bad light, but it actually ended up thrusting him into the top ten.

“He woulda sent that fuckin’ dick pic to anyone that asked.” Bakugou scoffed when you’d told him, grinning at the cheesy headline “Cellophane stuck in a sticky situation.”

But in particular, the media seemed hellbent on making a villain out of Dynamight. A well-known fact that they knew sold papers. His brash personality and fiery quirk made him an easy target for those sleazy tabloids to ridicule. Painting the perfect picture of Number One Pro-Hero Deku, and demonising the Number Two who was always hiding in his shadow.

Of course, the media scrutiny didn’t bother Bakugou much, far used to these words for them to have any real bite. The judgement seemed to have followed him since he was a teenager, and he’d spent the better part of his adult years trying to prove himself through his actions. And although you didn’t know it, your opinion meant far more to Bakugou than a handful of gossip magazines.

It wasn’t unusual for these reporters to call through to the Dynamight agency, especially after a successful mission. Each outlet wanting to be the first to get the scoop hot off the press from the main man himself, but fortunately for Bakugou you were the final roadblock between them and the Pro-Hero.

Most of the time you could weed through the good calls and the bad, finding the best opportunities for Dynamight to showcase himself to the world and add those precious boosts to his hero ranking. Knowing firsthand how much Bakugou hated any kind of interview environment, preferring to showcase himself through his hard work, you were careful with the engagements that you picked. The few he did were always enough to keep him sitting comfortable in second place.

You groaned when you realised who you’d ended up with on the phone, the lead journalist for The Heroic Choice, a controversial tabloid that had just published a rather scathing article about Pro-Hero Welder. And you were certain judging by the “direct” quotes that most had been stretched out of context to fit their narrative.

“Thanks for taking our call,” The voice spoke on the other end of the line, not that you’d had much choice, “Dynamight hasn’t responded to any of our emails, so I thought it best to try and reach you directly.”

“Yes, well Dynamight’s a very busy hero.” You spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh, we’ve heard. We had a very concerned reader call in earlier to tell us that Dynamight almost killed someone again—” You were already seething at the accusation when the reporter continued, “How many totalled buildings is it this year? The budget must be at breaking point by now, or is it less a budget and more hush money for the victims? Almost as bad as a villain, wouldn’t you agree?”

You weren’t sure what came over you in that moment. Some would probably argue that it was the amount of love that you had built inside you for Bakugou Katsuki that made you want to protect and defend him with your life, or it could’ve just been the fact that being his secretary meant you got to see a side of him that no one else was lucky enough to see. The Hero that dedicated so many hours of his life to protecting the city and its residents, putting his own life at risk to ensure that people made it home safely to their loved ones. The countless amount of times you’d visited him in hospital or done a rather bootleg patch up of his injuries in his office after hours. The scars that now littered his body each held their own story of a time where Dynamight put others before himself, and you weren’t about to let some gossipy B-rate magazine besmirch him. Especially to try and call him, the man that would give his life for others, a villain.

So you did what Bakugou probably would’ve done, you exploded.

You weren’t even sure where it came from, certain in the months that you’d been working for Dynamight you’d never once let your temper get the best of you, even with particularly troublesome callers. His personality must have been rubbing off on you, as you continued to argue back and forth with the man on the phone, your voice increasing in power the more he argued back.

The noise roused Bakugou from his mission report, crimson eyes looking up from his laptop as he tried to make out the shouting on the other side of his office wall. Pushing his desk chair back as he dropped his glasses on top of his laptop he made his way towards the hallway, thinking that another person was harassing you for some kind of Dynamight endorsement deal again. Tugging open the door Bakugou prepared himself to tell whoever it was to leave and stop pissing off his secretary but he was shocked to see you shouting on the phone.

“Dynamight is the greatest Hero of our generation and we’re lucky to have someone like him protecting our streets. There’s no telling what could happen if we didn’t have him. Did you know violent crime is down twelve percent since he entered the top ten? And that’s not including the crime syndicates he’s managed to infiltrate in the last three months—”

Bakugou had to stop in the doorframe at the sound of you listing off facts about him so effortlessly. Mouth agape like a fish out of water as he began to wonder who you were on the phone to, and how they had managed to rile you up to this extent.

You hadn’t even noticed him standing there as you continued to berate the caller, asking them whether they had looked up any crime statistics or whether they were just interested in a sleazy headline.

Bakugou didn’t know what to say, standing outside his office as he stared at you between furrowed brows. After hearing shouting outside, he hadn’t expected it to be coming from you, and he definitely hadn’t expected it to be because you were defending him to the media.

It had Bakugou’s chest swelling with pride as he continued to hear you list of reasons why Dynamight would never do an interview with The Heroic Choice, not that he needed you to tell them that. He could’ve easily given them his own list of reasons, the main one being their scathing reviews of anyone other than Pro-Hero Deku. His throat felt dry as he watched your eyes darken as you continued to argue with them on the phone, nostrils flared as he tried to fight the blood rushing directly between his thighs.

God, you were so fuckin’ perfect.

He’d never had anyone defend him to such a level, and it made it even more special that it happened to be you doing it— the woman he was so madly in love with. Even the shy, wide-eyed look you gave him when you noticed him watching you made his heart flutter as you exchanged the last few words with the tabloid over the phone.

You’d been so heated you hadn’t even noticed Bakugou shamelessly ogling you while you were on the telephone, although you were certain he’d heard you. Your voice at least a few octaves louder than necessary, but you couldn’t help it. The realisation you had an audience now dawning on you as you gave your boss a sheepish smile.

“I’m so sorry about that, sir.” You practically gushed as soon as you slammed the phone down, which immediately began ringing again, “It just makes me so mad, they talk like they know you but they really don’t know you at all—”

“Next time, get me.” He rasped, mainly because you didn’t deserve dealing with assholes like that on the phone, but also because Bakugou wasn’t sure if he’d be able to survive you taking another call like that without blowing his load in public. The thought of having to spend the rest of the day in damp boxers had him squirming as he turned around.

“Yes, sir. I know I should’ve, but he made me so angry. I’m sorry.” No matter how many times he told you not to call him sir, you would do it anyway and it did nothing to quell the ache in his pelvis.

“Take five.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Thank you si— Bakugou.” You stopped yourself with a smile as you stood up from the desk hesitantly.

Bakugou practically waddled back into his office, trying to conceal the tent between his thighs from your praise. The overprotective words had his cock throbbing as he tried to calm his racing heart, and it didn’t help you’d said his name. Slamming his office door a little harder than intended as he pressed his back to the hardwood. Eyes screwed shut as Bakugou made a feeble attempt at steadying his breathing, before glaring down at the obvious bulge. Silently willing it to disappear as he prayed you hadn’t seen it.

But Bakugou had left so abruptly with barely a word that you began to worry that you’d done the wrong thing, remembering Creati’s words one evening when she had been visiting the agency. “All press can be good press if you orchestrate it correctly.” Maybe Bakugou really was mad at you for losing your temper on the phone to one of Musutafu’s biggest tabloids, you’d definitely guaranteed another negative Dynamight article about him. Your eyes glancing over to the shut door to his office as you gnawed your glossed lip between your teeth, pondering whether you should knock on the door to apologise. The phone began to ring again as you were making that decision, opting to pick it up and hopefully do some kind of damage control for his important public image. Hoping that the PR team wouldn’t find out just how hostile you’d been on the phone to a company representative. You had no idea that on the other side of the door, your boss was losing his cool because of you, but not for the reason you thought.

About a week later The Heroic Choice ended up posting their scathing article about Dynamight anyway, although it did little to smear his hero rating. Instead the article seemed to focus on his fiery little secretary who was seemingly even more tenacious than his newly appointed sidekicks.

“Dynamight’s secretary even more explosive than him? More on page six.” It was accompanied by a picture of you that Bakugou was certain they’d managed to take from one of your social media profiles.

You’d been so embarrassed when Bakugou had shown you the magazine with a smirk, highlighting his favourite parts of the article which happened to be the direct quotes of you defending his tenacity and altruism.

What you didn’t know was Bakugou had cut out this article and pinned it to the fridge inside his apartment, grinning at it whenever he passed. The picture they’d picked of you was real fucking pretty after all— it wasn’t his fault that it brought back the memories of you defending him every time he looked at it, his cock standing to attention when he remembered how irate you’d looked that day. Somehow it made you even prettier… But of course, he’d never tell you that.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader

2K notes · View notes

cheeseceli · 11 months

Text

SKZ falling for their make up artist

Pairing: skz ot8 × Black gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff

Request: yes! (lmk if it's like you wanted)

Warnings: Reader has braids in Hyunjin's one and is implied to paint their hair in Felix's one, mentions of food in Minho's (and food places like restaurants in Chan and Jeongin's)

A/n: I accidentally posted this one before it was ready and then I had to delete it now I am mad💀 i really need to pay attention to the things i do

Bang Chan

Ok so fun fact

He met you before knowing you were his new make up artist

He just saw you at jyp cafe looking like an angel when he decided he would make small talk with you

But luck was not on his side (or was it?) because it was golden hour and you guys were sitting near the window

What does that mean? The sun rays were all over you, making your brown skin glow and your eyes hypnotized him

Consequences? He was so focused on appreciating you that he forgot to ask for your number

You can imagine how sad he was once he realised it

But! Imagine his surprise (and happiness) when he met you at the recording of one of their mvs four days later

He made sure to ask for your number properly this time

He always makes sure he is the last you'll make up so there is no rush and he can have you all for himself for some moments

Absolutely adores how excited you look like when talking about your work

He even convinced the management crew to put you as the tour's make up artist because he needed wanted you there

Lee Know

You'd probably hate him

He just happens to be a menace to people he likes

So he might or might not wipe off and ruin pieces of the make up just so you have to retouch it

"did you make up here? And here? I think you should check or do it again yk" typa thing he'd say

Don't get him wrong, he just wants to spend a little bit of time with you

But he doesn't know how to do it without making you rethink all you life choices and pissing you off

But he also brings you food backstage to make up for it

And if you have any pets he would be like "our pets should meet each other!!"

Anything to see you outside of work

And if you're on backstage during one of the stages/recording/practices he will put 200% effort on his performance

He needs to impress you of course

Changbin

Compliments you right away

He doesn't even know your name but he is already telling you you are blessed by Aphrodite, the prettiest person to ever exist in earth and all those things

He has no shame

You know that cute couple thing people do with make up/skincare where one of them sit in the other's lap while applying the products?

Lmao him

He will not loose one single chance of having you close while you're making up him

So if you ever want to try something new like a new trend or just something that came up on your mind, he will be the first to volunteer

And if you have an account on any social media to talk about your work, he follows you and comments on every single post

Hyunjin

He's beautiful and he knows it

100% use this as an advantage

Will make eye contact with you all the time being

And will smile to you in the sweetest way possible everytime you are close to his face

Once you were making him up for the s-class mv recording but your hair kept falling in your face

So he just pushed one of the braids off your face and kept smiling and looking at you like it didn't make you malfunction in 30 different ways

Has the audacity to giggle after you're embarrassed

But try to flirt with him and suddenly he is the blushing mess

He is also such a hype man, it's so cute

If he ever publishes a pic of him on insta where you're the one who made his make up, he will praise it on the caption

Han

He didn't even know you existed until he visited Chan while the eldest was doing his make up

He was speechless when he first saw you

And he had a really serious talk with Chan concerning the reason you weren't his make up artist

The next day you were asked to add Han in your list of who you needed to make up

Totally a coincidence, it's not like he begged chan and the management crew to have you as his artist

The moment he gets to talk with you he tries to impress you

Jokes, talent, beauty, anything

If you laugh at at least one joke, his efforts will be payed off and this man is on cloud 9

Felix

You'd probably hate him pt 2.

I'm sorry but he just can't shut up lol

You're applying lipstick on him? Well, he has this urgent gossip to tell you so good luck with that lipstick

You're applying eyeshadow? Unfortunately he cannot keep his eyes closed because that would mean not looking at your eyes, and he has his priorities straight

The list goes on and on

It might be a little tough but! it's so worth it

After you're done he is ready to compliment your job and praise your skills every single time

As he should

You know how some couples match outfits? He'd like to match make up even if you're not on the dating stage yet

And maybe even match hair colour

Seungmin

The most subtle one

And your dream client

He keeps still while you're applying make up, compliments your work and is always so polite

He tries to be the first one you'll make up so after you're done with him, he can follow you around while you make up the others

Will talk to you during the process (and will take advantage of the fact the kids cannot reply because they need to be still) and will even try to help you with organising your products and handing them for you if you let him

Will try to learn a thing or two about make up on his free time because he wants to impress you

If you do artistic make up as well he would love to see your past works

Might even suggest the management to have something like that in future mvs

I.N

Doesn't move

Doesn't blink nor talk

Actually, sometimes he doesn't even breathe so you need to remind him

He will giggle and brush it off but let's be honest

He is so nervous around you

Once you notice it (trust me, you will notice. It's so obvious it hurts) you will try to small talk and this will, slowly, make him relax

Now that you guys are comfortable around each other he will initiate most of the conversations

He talks to you during breaks, he asks your opinion on his outfits and sometimes he also wants you to make him up for casual outings like going to a restaurant

Even after dating, he still gets nervous because of the proximity

646 notes · View notes

mandukkul · 11 months

Text

TEENAGE ANGST — n. rk

synopsis: you’re suppose to spend yet another birthday alone wallowing in teenage angst, but someone steps in and breaks the cycle

tags: non!idol!riki x f!reader, comfort, angst (not too much i think), a bit of fluff, maybe coming of age

warnings: riki doesn’t appear until like 1/3 into the oneshot, NOT PROOFREAD!!! cursing, angst (i think), spelling and grammatical errors (i wrote tbis at 2am and finshed it at 3 leave me alone), lots and lots of mis-capitalisations, tense errors probably, teenage angst 😰 , let me know if there are any more

word count: 4.7k

published: 13 July

authors note: first writing piece on here, my birthday is on september 8th but i wrote this maybe back in may

You think as a teenager, the worst thing that could affect you was teenage angst. but for you, it would probably be the least of your problems. Instead wallowing like every other teenager before you, locked deep into their rooms never to see the sun until they were 20, you decide it’s better to fix your problem with a day out.

you’re going to be better than what the stereotype says. I mean who’s better at swimming in your own self pity than yourself of course. Even if your parents had decided that travelling abroad for months on end as a job was better than staying at home in the giant house they bought to live as a family, or leave a teenager alone instead of bringing her along, you won’t let it bother you like it did the previous years.

Although you couldn’t feel bad, your parents were dreaming big, even if you became merely a side thought in that dream. Any teenager would live blissfully with all the materials you had. It was truly a dream, but a dream can only become reality if you make it.

You’re not going to think so negatively and say that people around you would rather see you burn than to see you happy, even though that’s exactly what you’re saying.

You’re a kid with everything you want, but surrounded by other kids who are and have basically the same as you, only with parents in the picture, you’re at bare minimum on the grand scale of things.

To live your life with no one by your side, unless you count the people who dislike you at school, is harder than you think.

But you’ve lived your life like this far too long to complain, it’s been routine to be left alone. only now, the difference is that your birthday was today.

spending what most would say a precious day, in a house so hollow you’d think it was abandoned isn’t exactly ideal. Being alone could only add to your ever growing list of reasons to angst over. not even you, who seemed accustomed to this trend, would want to be reminded of how alone— lonely— you are.

so to attempt to turn a new leaf, you urge yourself to spend it differently, you told yourself. straying from your normally secretive emo self, you decide that traveling to the next suburb ,since you heard about a new promotion of the manga you liked being released in a cafe in said suburb, was a good way to ignore your ever piling problems of self-destructive tendencies.

but oh how the world is against you, even if it is your birthday.

The bus suddenly needs to take a detour to a different area you’re not too familiar with, then declares that the route must be canceled due to complications leaving you stranded in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. When checking your phone to find where you are, you see that you are not only an hour walk away from your house, but your phone is standing on its last legs with a messily 20%.

To test your limits further, the sky starts to cry the moment you’re just far enough from your house that running back would do more harm than good.

you quickly scope your area, finding that there are no parks in the vicinity to offer mercy from the rain, and the closest shelter is either 20 minutes forward to the bus stop or the array of trees planted along the side wall as decorations.

you way your options, and take the tree closest to you as refuge. you’re glad the area you’ve wandered to is littered with them, even better that they're thick enough to offer some kind of protection.

minutes passed and the rain hasn’t let up, going at the same harsh rate it has been going at for the past 10 minutes. your clothes, so obviously drenched, weighs you down causing your minimal moves to become sluggish (or maybe it’s the premonition of sickness approaching).

the trees hang low with despair, mimicking your very attitude. rain licks your face, and you can’t tell whether your tears finally made its greeting or it’s rain getting into your eyes.

you start to ponder whether running to the back home would be a better idea than your lovely tree, the idea of escaping your rain soaked clothes seeming like a dream as of right now, a dream escaping you the longer you wait.

you test your already bad luck, because god so obviously has a vendetta against you, deciding your next best option was to end your little escapade and head back home in the rain.

Barely ten minutes in, with wet sneakers splashing into deep puddles and your clothes glued to you like second skin, the rain starts to roar, angered by your decision apparently.

your vision can’t help but blur due to the heavy rain clouding your sight, and the hair that stubbornly sticks itself into your forehead and subsequently, your eyes. it’s hazy and you can barely make out the road in front of you, you’re glad the path ahead of you is empty and that you’ve arrived in a more familiar area.

I guess not even you can escape the clutches of teenage angst, slowing your strides and accepting your fate.

you think how stupid and cliche you look walking in the rain with a frown. Your feet dragging, now feeling the effects of almost an hour in the rain, and on your birthday of all days. The only thing to complete your look was loud sad emo music.

stopping in your tracks, letting the rain do what it wants, you begin to think back to what you must’ve done to anger god so much.

you shut your eyes for just a moment, to shield yourself from rain trying to attack your eyes, but the rain suddenly stops, or more accurately, something is blocking the rain from you. you begin to hear the pitter patter of rain against an umbrella and just for a moment, you think god has found pity in your wallow and granted you mercy. When opening your eyes, low and behold, a black umbrella meets your face.

oh and there’s Riki, or what he likes to be called, Niki, standing in front of you, holding the umbrella over your head acting as your current saviour.

so much for God's mercy.

If your day wasn’t already so bad, you’d say that seeing niki would be the worst part of your day. Unfortunately for you though, it was the best.

you and niki have never been on the same page, ever since he ‘accidentally’ bumped into you while you were in an empty hall. you had given him many chances to be nice to you, or atleast apologise, but as days passed from the first meeting, all you’ve received was strange stares you know all too well. When confronting him, all he could do is ignore you and or play dumb. This interaction had left a massive rift between the two of you, and being a not so popular kid in highschool compared to the ‘king of dance’ was not a good look.

“why are you trying to be a main character” is the last voice you want to hear from, especially on this joke of a birthday. you crane your neck slightly, meeting face to face with the face you hate (and hate to say is extremely easy on the eyes). “why are you trying to stop my main character moment” you shoot back with equally as much snark, but it comes off weak as you underestimated the sound of rain.

Niki looks down at you with the same glint in his eye you dislike, not because it was a judgmental one, but one of mystery because you can never guess what he’s thinking. “sorry sorry, should i let you get back to that” he removes the umbrella from above you but you make no attempt to stop him.

the rain embraces you once again, as harsh it was moments ago. you state a niki again, his dry figure under the comfort of his darken umbrella, staring at you who seemed to be physically separated from him.

talk about rift.

you’ve never noticed how far you were from niki, in a metaphorical sense. Niki had everything you had, and more. He had people to talk to, hang out with, care about and care for. He too, probably went through his fair share of teenage angst, but you think to yourself that this is the first (and only) win.

he sees this and halts his movement, examining your figure deeply. you seem tired. along with the wet suit you’re wearing, and unruly hair dripping at its tips, you look far different to how you present yourself at school. nonchalant and cool, an enigmatic girl who seems to always be out of everyone’s business but as of now, you look (in the nicest way possible) like a train wreck.

“Are you taking joy out of watching me wallow?” you scoff, staring at him with a distasteful eye, “i’m not a sadist” he jokes but he’s the only one who’s smiling.

he coughs to clear his throat, or maybe the awkward atmosphere, you’re too tired to care. you watch as he moves the umbrella back under you, “why are you standing in the rain anyways?” he questions.

“m trying to get home” you whisper loud enough to beat the rain, looking at Niki who’s features seem to fuzz up the more you blink.

“don’t you live 3 streets away?” he adds, you only nodding in response.

your movements are suddenly too sluggish to call lazy, the effects of an hour in the rain finally hitting you.

“aren’t your parents worried?”

probably

“my parents are overseas,” you mumble as he nods knowingly, having his fair shares of travelling parents, although he has his sisters to accompany him, “and i don’t feel like spending my day alone”

birthday

you think how this is the first real conversation you’ve had with niki, ever since your first encounter. Normally you’d stray away from him, so much as look in your direction, you’re off to avoid further conflict and instead plan a faux argument comeback for if the day ever arrives.

you rub your eye to rid the haze that had gotten worse, along with the bodily ache and pounding head.

niki notices, he always notices you. seeing you off in your own world from a distance.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone laced with concern, or at least that's what you think. He moves his hand to wipe some hair out of your face, attempting to help with your irritable eyes.

Despite the cold weather, you’re hot to the touch.

“oh shit, you’re burning up” he goes into mother mode as he touches your forehead, seeing as that’s what his sister and mother do when he has his own fever. you mumble an incoherent response, you’re not sure what you said either.

“I should get home then” you mumble, stepping away from safety and into the rain. He goes to stop you, but the moment you move you’re in shambles, collapsing into his arms like some damsel in distress.

oh fuck

…

sometimes you think to yourself, what did you do to end up here? and when i mean here, i don’t mean the literal sense, i mean the place you are in life, because for you, all you seem to do is piss of whoever’s writing your story, because why else would you be living such a shitty (but not enough to outwardly complain) life.

The second you wake up in bed was your first red flag. the sheets a bluish grey, far different from your own floral white ones. The bed is softer, and the quilt more warm, but that might just be from the sheer exhaustion you exhibited some time ago.

The next flag was the scary tall silhouette you see entering the room, holding what looks like a black plastic bag filled with various things.

riki looks much more intimidating when all you can make out is his outline.

the moment he turns around from shutting the door, he sees your eyes staring at him and the previous blank expression he wore changes into a face of concern.

“oh you’re awake” he scrambles words together as he stalks up to for bedside, placing the plastic bag beside him as he examines your condition like some kind of doctor.

“clearly” you croak, and you find out that your voice is extremely hoarse (and sore).

“try not to speak, i think you have a fever from standing under the rain” he deduces but you can’t help but scoff, “gee, who would’ve guessed”.

the sick you are even snarky than normal you.

Niki chuckles at your comment as he shuffles around the plastic bag for a bottle of water and what looks like painkillers.

you shift your head to watch him as he assorts the medicine and water onto the bedside table, pulling out a small mandarin to complete the collection.

“What's with the orange?” you whisper, trying to not use your voice too much, “vitamin c” he answers simply and you can’t help but laugh at him.

you manoeuvre into a sitting position to take what he’s giving you, ignoring the pain striking your head as you do so.

as you pop pills and chug water, you continue to scan the room. It's pretty boring, with a table with a few pieces of stationary, and a shelf with some personal touches.

Niki sees you’re so obviously inspecting the room, and coughs up an answer.

“oh umm- sorry. i didn’t know where you lived and you had passed out and i panicked and brought you to my house” he explains. that explains the strange surroundings. you’re in his room.

you think about how different his room is to what you originally assumed. no trophies, or obnoxious posters. a very standard and boring room for someone so rich.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “i’ll leave you to rest” he starts to get up and you don’t know what has gotten over you, but the moment you see him shift away, you grasp his wrist urging his attention back on you.

he stares at you intently, as if he’d listen to the hours of silence you’d make if you chose to.

under his scrutinising gaze, you can’t help but avert your gaze. “I don't want to spend my birthday alone” you unconsciously mumble and you feel pathetic as you hear the words leave your mouth.

a raging silence fills the room, and your own anxiety gets the best of you as you loosen your grip around his wrist.

the moment he longer feels your fingers against him, he reaches for you back which surely catches your attention.

you never had a real interaction with the boy, especially due to the circumstances you (or him) were put through but your distaste for him wasn't baseless, even if your heart felt different.

Speaking about heart, it was pounding so loudly against your chest, you could’ve sworn Niki would dance to it.

“It's your birthday?” he’s grip on your hand is gentle, almost delicate as if you’d crack under the pressure of his touch. you nod softly, not facing him but you can tell what he’s thinking.

you probably seem more like a loser than you already are, you feel like that at least.

Riki nods his head, gently as to let your eyes follow enough not to be bothered by such movements. He repositions himself beside his own bed, hand still attached to yours.

you try everything in your power to ignore his riveting gaze, but the awkwardness is much louder than the silence itself.

you ponder to yourself, if this birthday was one of your best ones or the worse. you silently compare back to when you were six, and everyone and their friends were there. your parents seemed less concerned with otherworldly matters and you focused on nothing but the people around you.

That was the last time you felt noticed.

teenage angst must’ve hit you really early, huh?

then, back to just 14, where it was yet another year alone, with no one at school knowing who you are (yet because the moment you meet riki everything had a turn for the one worse), your parents at god knows where, living their best business lives, and this is your first time spending your birthday alone (first of a few).

you think how empty your house was, how dark and voided it felt, feeding into your ever growing reasons to angst.

and now you think of now, despite being ill with a rising fever, you don’t feel as bad as you did back then. you can’t tell if it’s just your delirious mind putting it’s fair share of delusional thoughts into you, or it’s just because you haven’t had company in so long. but the hand wrapped around yours, and the feeling of someone (even if it’s the ever so terrible niki) next you that made you smile.

“What are you smiling about? Are you going through shock?” niki’s voice is a mixture of playfulness and concern, because even if the chances of you suddenly falling into a seizure is low, it isn’t zero.

your eyes trail to him, but not to his eyes, you wouldn’t dare look straight at him.

“I thought it was going to be another bad birthday” you shrug, and you can’t for the life of you, wipe off your smile, not now because Riki finds it in himself to squeeze your hand.

you expect another remark, because that’s all your conversations seem to be (from the single one you’ve just had earlier) but nothing of the sort came, instead, from the corner of your eyes, you see him smile.

the nicest type of smile, with his boxy edges, and eyes squeezing softly.

if you weren’t looking at him before, you are now.

“I'm glad” that’s all he says, and your heart clenches at something that isn’t depression and anxiety.

The overwhelming feeling of awkwardness has long dissipated and has been replaced with something else.

something new.

you stare intently into his eyes, moreso, he does and you are compelled to look back. He's searching for something, in the darkness of the room it seems like.

you can barely make out his features, soft eyes, and sharp jaw. his hair perfectly framing his face, to much of your distaste, and is slightly damp probably from just getting back from wherever he went.

you wonder what’s going inside that head of his, while staring so intently at you, dissecting every little part of you. does he notice the droop of your eyes, how tired you look, how pale your skin has gotten from days locked in your room, how your cheeks never flushed with life yet was always plush to the touch (probably from all the instant food you’ve consumed)

does he notice the teenage angst you wallow in, him probably going through the same trivial problems as you.

“Sorry you have to spend your weekend with me” you whisper, thinking about all the other things the “king of dance” could be doing instead of nurturing you back to health.

He’d probably be out with heeseung or jake at the local gaming cafe, laughing and playing. He was probably on his way there if not for running into you.

you don’t break eye contact so you see how his eyes double in size, quick to shake his head, your own aching from following his movements. “hey don’t say that” he scolds you, taking his other hand to caress yours.

How intimate does he get?

your skin burns from his touch, and not because your fever is bordering on 39° C. Your eyes tear away, too much of your brains disliking because, even if you dislike him, he’s very nice to look at.

“no one deserves to spend their birthday alone” and he may be right, but your own angsty self could beg to differ.

because with the cards dealt to you, and the way you’ve treated the world (because how it treated you) there’s no doubt there’s a love hate (mostly hate) relationship going on between you and life.

“Even more, now that you’re sick” he adds on, rubbing circles to the back of your hand and you feel comfort for the first time in a while.

“i guess even someone who hates me can be nice, huh?” you didn't mean to say that out loud, but your quiet voice is too intertwined with your head voice, mixed with the fact that you’re terribly sick, couldn’t tell the difference.

he stares at you quizzingly, as if you’ve said something so utterly absurd it’s left him speechless.

“i don’t hate you”

those words catch you off guard. because the words “don't” and “hate” have never been uttered on the same line with “you” following after it.

you stay silent. it’s your birthday so of course he wouldn’t uprightly say it to your face.

“Do you hate me?”

he asks and you take a moment to ponder, about the strange stairs he’s given you, and the amount of times he’s ignored you piled with how everyone at school seems to stray away from you.

you only hate him because he hates you

“i only hated you because you hate me”

niki is left truly speechless (in a metaphorical sense), and his jaw is literally cracked wide.

“what?!? I don't hate you! god! i could never hate you”

like a cringey teenage cliche, you bite your lip holding back an unwanted grin.

“don’t say the lord's name in vain” you mutter to make light of the situation.

not having friends didn't mean you weren’t socially inept.

Your dry chuckle is the only sound left in the room, other than the pattering of rain. riki can’t help but frown at the news he just heard.

“i’ve never hated you, not for a second” he looks at you as if he’s trying to convince you, telling you that all your internalised monologues were for nothing, “i just thought… since you were so stand-off-ish, that you just didn't like me” you shrug, averting from his gaze.

words pour out of you like vomit and you can no longer keep up your enigmatic cool girl facade, not now that you’re sick.

“not many people like me, so i assume you hate me jusy as much, and well, if you hated me, i figured i should hate you back”

and you did, well you tried to at least. but in moments like these; where niki holds your hand as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, where his eyes never leave your lips because he’s so set on remembering every little detail you say, afraid your words will be lost to tone. you can’t help but not hate him at all, noy one bit.

“how could i hate you when you’re just so perfect” he whispers, almost like a confession.

actually he did confess. to you. right now.

you owlishly blink, and suddenly think that your beating heart is more serious than your fever.

you try to snatch your hand away from him, in embarrassment of him feeling how hot you feel, with the tips of your ears flaming red.

with your averted gaze, it’s not like you can see that his neck has a creeping speck of hot red as well as his cheeks, ears, and everything on him.

He's so glad it’s dark right now.

“you can’t just say that, riki” it’s the first time you’ve said his name.

his name out of your mouth, your tongue, your lips.

He wants to hear it again.

“Why not?” he eggs, leaning closer despite the strange territory they’ve suddenly entered.

“Some people might get the wrong idea” and by some, you mean yourself because even with the minimal things you know about the boy next to you, your heart is fluttering like crazy it makes you want to vomit.

“But I'm not lying, you’re so perfect” Riki reiterates, “you’re so perfect, i’m afraid to even talk to you, or look at you, even be around you” he rambled at the amount of failed attempts to talk to you, caused by his shyness.

so… everytime you tried to talk to him, walked near him, caught him staring, it was all because of some silly crush?

and now you feel stupid, ontop of your crippling angst, you’ve failed at teenage romance.

letting out a frustrating sigh, so heavy you might even blow the poor boy away, you drop down ontop your back and whine.

he’s shocked for a moment, watching you wail with your hands covering your face.

he finds you so cute, his stomach might because an olympic gymnast at this point.

riki crawls closer to you, kneeling onto his knees as he gently pries your hand away from your face. “I feel so stupid” you can’t help but utter, eyes shut to avoid his eyes.

riki grins, leaning closer (not that you could see), “the smartest girl at school? Feeling stupid? That's a first” he jokes and you unintentionally snort out a laugh, “i’m not the smartest” you instantly shoot back, slowly opening your eyes.

“oh but you are, you’re smart, and beautiful, and mysterious and witty and-“ you rip your hand from his grip to cover his mouth, any more and your ego will start to inflate and be as big as Sunghoon’s. “aish, stop that

'' You laugh, and you can hear him giggling along.

“But why? can’t i tell the girl i like how amazingly perfect she is?”

the girl he likes…

the.

girl

likes

IS YOU?

“you like me…” you gape, maybe you are socially inept, or at least, romantically.

riki laughs, and a hearty one at that. the type of laugh that comes straight from the stomach. “how could anyone not?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

like the teenage girl you are, you can’t help but feel bubbly and giddy, like the princess in some lame disney movie being swept off her feet by a guy who’s probably way too old for her (funny seeing that riki’s younger than you).

Then guilt hits you. as much as you want to revel in this blissful joy, you know nothing about riki, and you spent so long hating on him in your head to suddenly switch up.

“I know nothing about you though…” you break the news to him, “i mean, we technically just had our first real conversation”.

riki can’t help but smile, even if he’s just been indirectly rejected, your gentleness in letting him down makes him swoon even more.

“we can get to know each other then” he declares, smiling down at you.

“But are you willing to wait?” your eyes fill with anticipation, hoping for the best (it is your birthday after all), and wonder for the first time in forever, smiling from ear to ear.

“for you, i’d wait a thousand years”

if what he said before wasn't swoon worthy, this definitely was.

you feel like one of his silly fangirls that wait outside of class, giggling at his stupid smile but this time, you know you’re the cause of it.

“Are you going to start singing Christina Aguilera now?” you joke, giggling quietly to yourself. “I mean you should, since it’s my birthday after all” oh what a good birthday it was.

“anything for my birthday girl” Seeing your smile stretch for the first time, he hopes he’d be seeing that everyday in the near future.

Riki looks at you, for what feels like the millionth time. He really looks at you, like he did at school, like he did on the street in the rain, and like he does now.

and he thinks to himself:

yeah, I can definitely wait.

authors note pt.2: as you can see i write a lot for riki (my bias) mostly because i have so many wips that i s decided to release 🤭 might accept request who knows. also if you have any tips on how to write or do a layout please pm!!!!

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milkpup · 5 months

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｡⋆ʚ♡ throwing it back for the blue

‹𝟹 nsfw! 18+ oneshot

art creds: soy / twitter -> https://pin.it/6GKWjQW

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

by cafekitsune

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› 18+! f!reader/m ›› date published: 12/8/23 ›› 3k words

‹𝟹 summary:You're tired from exams, hoping to rush home and take a quick shower and sleep. Unluckily for you, you get pulled over on your way home by Officer Toji Fushiguro.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk , jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres/warnings: police au, insults, dubious consent, power imbalance, impact play

‹𝟹 tags: police au, police uniforms, uniform kink, cop toji, rough sex, manipulation, coercion, people pleaser, public sex, sex on a car, abuse of authority, au - no powers, dubious consent, being called a good girl, praise kink, degradation, choking, spit / spitting, spit kink, face slapping, slapping, spanking, vaginal sex, dry humping, cunnilingus, hair pulling, breeding, vaginal fingering, fingerfucking, name calling, pet names, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji has a big dick

‹𝟹 notes: this story is originally posted on my ao3! hope y'all like it here too! i just wanna say that this is all fantasy. i am actually against cops but ima be real.... i still got fantasies lmfao X_X enjoy!

Throwing it Back for the Blue by milkpup

It’s finals week at your college. You had your last final of the week, and it ended late at night. Yawning as you’re driving, you want to get home as soon as possible. You silently curse yourself for living off-campus, it would have been nice to live at the dorms and have a short walk back. You valued your independence and freedom, however, and that is why you opted for a more expensive off-campus living arrangement.

You look at the clock on the dash of your car: 10:43. You just want to hurry up and shower, snuggle in bed, and drift to sleep. It wasn’t worth it taking the main highways, there would probably be lots of traffic from people going out on a Friday night. You take a less-used road, it won’t add much more time, and you could honestly make up for it if you went a little faster. Plus, cops don’t usually care enough to check out back roads.

Toji specifically chose this intersection because it wasn’t used as frequently. He didn’t want to camp out on a main highway, that’s more work, and for what? He always lived by the motto of working smarter, not harder.

He’s backed up on a street, lights of his motorcycle turned off. The abundant foliage and trees add more darkness, and it doesn’t help there’s very few street lights on these roads. Toji wanted to just take a break, smoke a cigarette, and wait until his shift was over. He already met whatever “quota” for traffic citations he was tasked with, he just needed to wait until he was off at midnight and could make his way back to his apartment.

He leisurely sat upon his motorcycle, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. He exhaled and watched as the smoke dissipated in the cool air. He clicked his tongue. He was slightly ticked off he hadn’t taken a patrol car instead. He usually used the motorcycle, but the brisk fall air was not pleasant against his uniform. The black button up hugged his muscles and body, he was glad he at least chose the long sleeve today. Although he had a bad habit of rolling his sleeves up anyways, constantly creasing and wrinkling his uniform. Thick but tight black pants with a gold stripe running along the sides provided him minimal warmth, however. The long black leather boots all motorcycle patrols wore made up for the inadequate coverage on his legs.

He groaned, feeling the cool air start to affect him. His moment of complaint didn’t last long as he watched a car run right through the stop sign in front of him. He clicked his tongue again. Whatever, at least it gives me something to pass the time. He quickly dropped his cigarette and snuffed it out with his boot, before turning his headlights and sirens on.

As you flew past the intersection, you saw red and blue flashing lights appear not too far behind you, picking up speed and getting closer.

“Fuck.” You groaned out loud. You were sure no cops would be there; why would they ever be there? They never were before. “This fucking sucks. I definitely fucked up.” You pulled over to the side of the road soon after.

The first thing you see as the officer approaches your window is how built he is. How taut his clothes are against his skin. You gulp. You feel like a fucking pervert, thinking these kind of thoughts in this kind of situation.

“Good evening, miss,” the officer greets you as your window finishes rolling down. “Do you know why I pulled you over tonight?”

You try to gulp again, but your mouth is instantly dry. You feel like a deer caught in headlights. In a way, you are. “N-no… officer. I’m sorry I don’t know.” You’re looking everywhere but this officer. You have confrontation issues in general, and a person with authority absolutely kicks your anxiety into overdrive. You’re sweating so much, you once read in an article to act like you don’t know why you’re being pulled over.

Toji clicks his tongue. “Little miss, you were driving exceptionally over the speed limit, not to mention you completely flew past a stop sign before I pulled you over. Do you understand how reckless that is?” You can’t see into his face very well with his helmet covering his head. You chose to look at his abdomen, but that’s not much help either.

“I-I understand,” you meekly stumble out. Your cheeks are flush, and you feel like you’re about to cry. You don’t want to get in trouble; you’re instantly apologetic for not being more careful.

Toji smirks. “Very well, license, registration, and insurance please, little miss.”

You shuffle around, pulling your bag into your lap. Grabbing your license and insurance card out of your wallet before reaching into the glove compartment to retrieve your registration. Your shirt hikes up a bit as you lean over to grab your stuff, and Toji takes this time to observe the scene. At least, that’s what he says he’s doing. In reality, he’s looking at the exposed skin from your shirt lifting and your leggings that hug your body. He licks his lips, thinking of an idea.

You move back up, handing him the materials. “Thank you, darling. Wait here while I run your information.” He says as he retreats towards his motorcycle. He radios dispatch, giving them your plate number and other necessary information.

He’s flipping your ID back and forth in his hand. He shamelessly takes a picture of it. He wants to remember you and where you live. Is it an abuse of power? Yes. And he fucking loves it. Your record is clean, tags are up to date, and the only thing wrong was your reckless driving this one time. He might just be nice and let you off with a warning.

He returns to your car, handing your documents over. He places an arm against the door frame, leaning against it. “Miss Y/N. I can tell you’re tired, and it’s probably because you have finals at the local university. I sympathize with you, and I’ll let you off with a warning this time. You have a clean record, and seem like a good girl who means no harm.” Toji smirks while looking down at you. You meet his gaze, feeling a wave of relief come crashing against you. You’re about to sigh with relief, before Toji finishes his statement. “However, because I’m such a nice guy willing to overlook a careless mistake for you, I need you to do something for me.”

You’re momentarily confused, as he’s reaching above his head to take off his helmet. His inky locks fall into place as his helmet comes off. He has vibrant jade eyes, piercing right through you as he looks down at you. “If you resist detainment, I will have no other option to arrest you. And we both don’t want that. So be a good little bitch and listen to me.”

Your heart is pounding so loud you could barely hear him telling you to get out of your car. “Step out of the vehicle, now.” You do not want to fuck with this guy, and you’d do anything if it meant you would still have a clean record.

As you’re opening the door and about to step out, he grabs your wrist and flips you around to pin you against your car. You can’t see much in the darkness, the only lights around to illuminate the area were his bike’s headlights and your car’s. He’s pressed up behind you, holding your arms against your back. His muscular and rigid body felt warm against yours. You couldn’t help but feel yourself getting wet as you could feel his hot breath against your neck behind you.

Toji was taking in every feeling of your body that he could. He spread your legs apart with his thigh, pushing against your core. You whimper as his thigh pushes against your cunt. You could already feel your juices soaking through your thin layers. Your black leggings didn’t do much to provide any modesty, he could see every curve and dip. He felt moisture as his thigh pushed into you more, and he had a cocky grin plastered on his face.

“Are you really getting turned on from this? Such a fucking slut that getting pushed against your car by an officer has you dripping already?” Your mind started spinning as he started degrading you. Your only response was a pathetic moan as he bit your neck slightly. He was leaving a mark on his toy for the night. It wasn’t going to be the last one he makes.

Toji groped your ass through your tights, feeling how soft and plush they felt. He felt his cock start straining underneath his pants as he pressed against your ass. Toji picked up speed and pressure, increasing the friction as he dry humped your ass. Your pants and squirming under his touch was a sight he could barely handle.

“Will you be a good toy for me, Y/N? I don’t want to get you in trouble, doll.” He muttered out as he kept pushing against your ass.

“Yes, sir.” You barely get the words out as Toji grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up. He tilts your head towards him slightly.

“Open, bitch.” You comply immediately, your cunt gushing more everytime he insults you. You’ve been used to praise your whole life, people taking care of you and treating you gently. But this? This was new and exciting. He spat in your mouth before pushing you against the car again. “Good girl,” he hummed.

“Strip from the waist down but leave your panties on, sweetheart.” He moved away from you, allowing you space to take your leggings off. You quickly removed them, tossing them back into the car.

In the time you took your leggings off, Toji moved to the front of the car. You finished undressing stood in front of him before he pushed you down against the hood of the car. He lifted your leg by the thigh, leaving one to support you and pushing the other on top of the car.

He spit on his fingers, moving them towards your already dripping cunt. “Tell me how this feels, doll.” He coos as he pushes one thick finger into your needy hole, pushing your panties to the side. You shamelessly moan as he pushes deep inside with his index finger. Toji immediately feels how tight your little cunt already is with just one of his fingers. He licks his lips devilishly, excited at the idea of stretching you out with his thick cock.

He adds another finger, and you already feel like you can’t take much more than this. He’s relentlessly fingerfucking your cunt as you’re pushed against your car. Your juices are dripping down his hand, as you’re panting and feeling your body heat up more.

He snakes a hand towards your neck, choking you as he pulls you up. “Do you like this, you little slut?” He asks you as he continues fucking your tight hole with his thick fingers. You’re too lost in the sensations to answer, a pathetic whimper the most you can manage. He pulls you by the hair to again, forcing you to make eye contact. “I asked you a question, didn’t I bitch? Fucking answer me.” He grunts out as he spits onto your face.

“It feels sho good, sir…” You slur your words. He’s fucking you with his fingers than any of the men you were with could do with their cocks. You’re already hooked, and he isn’t even fucking you yet.

He pulls his fingers out, much to your disappointment and groan of protest, before he licks his fingers and tastes your cunt. Fuck, she tastes fucking amazing. Little whore has a cunt that is just begging me to eat it.

He lights your other leg and flips you over onto your back. You can finally meet his gaze where you notice he’s staring at you like you’re his prey. He smirks as he drops down to his knees to be at eye level with your cunt. He normally doesn’t care for eating out the women he fucks, he usually only care about his own pleasure. But your taste, your moans, your body… they’re all intoxicating. And he would never pass up an opportunity for a free meal.

You feel his breath against your cunt as he approaches. He starts by kissing your inner thighs before reaching your core, where he gives a teasing flick of his tongue.

He looks up at you as you react, grinning against your pussy. He moves his tongue up to your clit, swirling around it. Your body trembles under his touch. He kisses and sucks your button, before giving it a gentle nibble. He wants to see how your body reacts whenever he does anything. Toji moves back down towards your tight hole, before he pushes his tongue inside. He rubs your clit as he tongue fucks your cunt, causing you to buck your hips against his face.

He moves back up to your clit, not wanting it to feel left out. He pushes another finger in your hole as he sucks your button. You moan profusely, feeling something build between your legs. You grab his raven locks and push him against your cunt more. “Please! Ah! I’m close-“ you stumble out as you feel yourself approaching the edge of pleasure. “More! Please! Fuck!!” You can barely get even one-syllable words out between your moans.

Toji fingerfucks you harder and faster, trying to get you to cum on his mouth. You whimper and tremble as you feel yourself being pushed over the edge, causing quite a mess. Toji is surprised, he didn’t realize you would be a squirter, but he laps up every last drop of essence as you orgasm.

He moves away as he reaches to unbuckle his belt. “Good girl… now it’s my turn.” You’re practically panting as he frees his cock from his tight uniform pants.

He moves towards you, lining the tip up with your hole. “You’re gonna take this like a good slut for me, right?” He deviously smirks while looking down at you.

“Yes, si-“ you begin to say. But before you finish, he bottoms out and forces his whole length inside at once. You yelp in shock, and a bit of pain. He’s exceptionally big, and the thickness is not helping either. He grunts as he stretches your tight hole. He lifts both your legs above his shoulders, pushing his body against yours. He has you in a mating press, ready to fuck you until you can’t even move after.

“You’re so tight, Y/N. Tighter than any bitch I’ve ever had in my life.” His jade eyes look down at you as he says that. Your walls clamp around his thick cock at the compliment, you get high off of being praised.

“Open, sweetheart.” Toji commands you once again, before he spits into your mouth again. This time though, he follows it up with the most aggressive kiss you’ve ever felt. He’s forcing every part of his body against yours, tugging at your bottom lip and biting it. He tastes the metallic essence, and feels his cock throb. You moan against his forceful kiss, while he fucks you hard and deep.

He pulls back until just the tip remains, before slamming back into your hole at full force. You moan at the action, feeling his cock hit your cervix. You’re sure he’s going to bruise you, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around his neck as he drills his cock into your cunt.

He pulls his lips from yours, and spits on you again. He moves a cock to your neck, applying pressure that makes your head dizzy. You can hardly breathe, your head feeling lightheaded as he fucks you dumb.

“Your cunt is amazing, sweetheart. It’s perfect for me.” He coos as he releases his grip around your throat and allows you to catch your breath. Your moment of respite is short-lived, as he slaps your cheek, leaving a red mark. “I might have to make you my bitch from now on. I can’t stand the idea of someone else fucking this tight hole.” He smacks you again, and you look up at him through half-lidded eyes.

You look like you’re enjoying every second this goes on, and Toji notices it. He moves his hand towards your cunt, lightly rubbing your clit. He fucks harder into you, causing your eyes to roll back. “You like being a good bitch for me, huh? I already knew you liked being praised, so I considered going soft on you. But you’re actually a dirty girl who likes being degraded and used, as long as I finish it off with a bit of praise, aren’t you? You’ve probably dreamt of someone having their way with you, roughing you up, and insulting you.” He spit on you again, and you clamped down around him tighter the moment he did so. He rubs your clit more, noticing you’re approaching the edge as well.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum soon. I’m going to fill you up with my cum. Be a good toy and cum with me, sweetheart.” He fucked into you harder, increasing speed and changing the angle to hit your sweet spot more. “I’m gonna knock you up, baby.” The moment his words rolled off his tongue you felt yourself cumming harder than you thought possible. You had a death grip around his cock as you clenched down, trembling and shaking under his weight. The added friction and pressure sent Toji over the edge as well, as he painted your insides white with his thick cum.

You were both panting, trying to catch your breaths. Toji lifted a hand to your cheek and caressed it before kissing your forehead. “That was amazing, doll.” He pulled out from inside of you, adjusting your panties so none of his seed could drip out. He wanted to make sure you stayed full until you got home.

Toji zips his pants and buckles them back up, before reaching inside your car to get your leggings. He hands then to you, watching you get dressed in front of him.

“So, as per our deal, you are let off with a warning. Please understand the consequences of your dangerous actions. There won’t always be someone nice like me to let you off and get you off,” He finished as he smirks. You blush after hearing his words.

“Thank you, officer. I really appreciate it.” You respond back to him, meeting his gaze once more.

“I’m going to follow you home, to make sure you get back safely.” He grins. You smile back at him and thank him, before getting into your car. You won’t speed away this time.

‹𝟹 end notes: i hope you enjoyed it! feedback is ALWAYS appreciated! originally posted on my ao3! i post there more consistently!

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @navi-n0 @starshipxoxo @comicalgrievance

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

180 notes · View notes

sgkophie · 8 months

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Hate To Love You - Chapter 6 - The Lady Doth Protest (Charles Leclerc Series)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (OFC) Warnings: language Word Count: 3200 Tag List: Drop a comment or add your name HERE. Synopsis: Enemies to lovers + sizzling banter + fake dating with Charles Leclerc. Full synopsis & master list HERE. Author’s Note: Wow, it's been way too long and damn it feels good to be back with you all. I'm feeling good about posting 3-4k words each week, probably on Thursdays or Fridays. THANK YOU for your patience!!! It's been a crazy summer and fall, here's to a nice and settled winter ❤️ A Man's World has officially been PUBLISHED. Interested in a copy? Click HERE! As always your feedback on my content is truly INSPIRING and makes my day, so if you liked the chapter let me know what you think below in the comments! I eat them up like DESSERT! Want more updates or just want to launch at my hilarious Georgia and Lily reels? Follow me on TikTok Or Instagram! @authorgracenewman Now enough of my shameless self-promotion... let's get back to Lily and Charles!

You'll definitely want to chapter up with Chapter 5 HERE.

I woke up the next morning to the ringing of my cell phone. With my eyes still groggy with sleep, I turned over and groaned, reaching over to the bedside table as I fumbled for the device. The phone stopped as soon as I grabbed it, and I sighed in relief, hoping that whoever was on the other end of the phone call had realized that it was still the morning, although I knew I should already be awake.

As soon as the ringing stopped, my mind wandered back to last night, and the horror of what I had done settled on my chest. I’d done what I had promised I would never do again – I’d ended up back in bed with Charles fucking Leclerc. Charles had once again dragged me back under his spell, and just like last time, he had managed to leave me feeling as if I was trash in the gutter just by one look on his face.

Regret.

Charles had regretted me the last time we had traveled down that road, and I knew he regretted me this time. As much as I wanted to tell myself that I didn’t care about how Charles Leclerc felt about me, I knew deep inside my soul that it wasn’t true, especially not when that feeling was regret.

I looked at my phone and immediately went to open Instagram, but before I could open the app my phone rang again, and Georgia Dubois’s name flashed on the phone’s screen.

What on earth did Georgia want with me on a morning after a night out?

“Georgia… I feel like the pre-season debrief could wait until we’re back at the office, hmm?”

“Lily, I need you to come to my room, now. Floor 15, room 1568.” There was urgency in her voice, urgency and something else., something that sounded like panic.

“… Now as in… now now?”

“See you in five.” Before I could protest, Georgia hung up the phone. I looked at the clock - 10:10 a.m., which meant the hallways would be fairly empty since most guests had either left on early flights or were still hungover in their rooms. I threw on some clothes and made my way up to Georgia’s floor, which was of course much higher up than mine.

No expense spared when it comes to Ferrari and their drivers, I scoffed to myself. The Mercedes F1 team was known for its cost savings when it came to hotels and drivers. Lewis used to always complain that as a 7x World Champion, he was lucky to get a suite when it came to Toto and Mercedes’ purse strings.

I headed straight to the room that Georgia had texted me and knocked on the door. It was as if Georgia had been standing there waiting for me, because she opened it on the second knock, causing me to fall forward, only to catch myself on the coat rack that had been placed right next to the door.

“Jesus, Georgie…” I grunted, shaking off the small moment of shock as I walked into the room. Seated on the couch was her fiance Carlos, who just nodded my way as he kept his eyes on the TV, glued to the Real Madrid game going on in the background.

Georgia motioned for me to take a seat, which I obliged as Carlos immediately lowered the volume of the television, finally turning to face me and Georgia. As soon as Carlos looked at me, I felt dread take over my entire body. Carlos was always so happy-go-lucky – and I likened him to a golden retriever, barely anything got him down, but the solemn nature of his face told me exactly why I was here.

“Is someone going to tell me what is going on?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between the three of us. I could see that Georgia was trying to find her words.

“So… after the pre-season party last night, what did you do?” Georgia finally asked, and I frowned, giving her a pointed look to let her know that I wasn’t thrilled with her nosy question.

“Not really any of your business,” I scoffed at my ex-teammate, but I knew my cheeks had gone slightly red. I wasn’t sure what Georgia had heard, but I wasn’t about to admit that I had slept with her brother last night.

“Well, it seems like it is my business now,” Georgia quipped, clearly unimpressed with my snarky reply. Her tone sounded like a mother who had just caught a child stealing from the cookie jar.

“… just fucking spit it out, Georgia.”

“Lily, I don’t care if you and Charles are fucking. I don’t care that you and Pierre are fucking. Hell, I don’t care if you have slept with the whole fucking grid…” Georgia’s tone was sharp, and I could feel her words start to slice through me.

So she did know that I had slept with her ex-boyfriend Pierre. Guess I wasn’t as discreet as I had hoped.

Before I could get a word in, Georgia continued, “… but what I do care about, is your reputation. As only one of two women on the grid, you know what is at stake here. I fucking hate that the entire world looks at the female drivers through a magnifying glass, but they do. The world shouldn’t care about who you are with, and quite frankly, it’s none of their business… but that just isn’t the case.

What we do is, and for the foreseeable future will be, looked at through a microscope. Am I making any sense to you?” Georgia sighed and looked back at Carlos, who just grabbed her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before nodding at her in supportive agreement.

As if out of instinct, I felt my lips starting to apologize to Georgia. “Look, Georgia… I’m sorry about…” But before I could finish, Georgia cut me off, putting her hand up to signal that her tirade wasn’t yet complete.

“I’m not done, Lily,” she said tiredly. I could see that the actual lecture was about to happen, and I felt my stomach sink to the floor. By the look on her face, I knew she was more upset with me for something other than sleeping with her brother – and that thought disturned me more than Georgia admitting she already knew that I had slept with her brother and ex-boyfriend.

“Lily, someone caught you and Charles in the elevator last night. And to make matters worse, as of this morning, the video is all over Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, you name it. I had a call from Toto this morning, who debriefed me on the situation…

Lily, are you listening to me?”

No, I wasn’t listening one bit. Truth was, I had stopped listening after the word ‘caught.’ Dread started to fill my entire body, and I could feel my hands and legs start to shake from all-consuming panic.

How could I be so fucking stupid? Of course, someone had caught us. Charles was the number 1 driver on the grid, people knew his face everywhere, and this hotel was crawling with tourists.

I just stared back at my racing coach, not able to utter a single word. The silence for the next minute was deafening, and it was clear that even Georgia didn’t want to continue with this conversation, but I could see from the urgency in her eyes that we had no other choice.

“How bad is it?” I eventually managed to force out my question, gazing up at Georgia through my flooded eyes.

“Salvageable,” was all she responded.

“What are they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I knew from the look in her eye and tone of her voice that it did matter.

“Bull shit, Georgie. We both know I’m going to hear it eventually from my mother, so you might as well spit it out.” The uneasy expression on her face and exasperated sigh told me exactly how bad it was, and I immediately pulled out my phone, but Georgia grabbed it from me, placing it back on the table screen facing down.

“Let me guess, it’s a lot worse for me than it is for your brother?” I scoffed, and the lack of response from both Georgia and Carlos confirmed my suspicions.

It was always worse for the woman.

“It’s not great for either of you, honestly.” Again, she paused, and as I watched her mouth something to Carlos, the anger inside of me started to explode into full-blown rage.

Fuck this.

“Georgia, if you don’t tell me what’s happening this instant, I am going to go down the hallway and start yelling until I find someone who does. Clearly, Toto and the team have asked you to tell me what is going on, so spit it out. This torturous silence and limbo you have me in is crucifying my soul!”

“I know, you’re right,” Georgia sighed. “Here’s the lowdown. You and Charles were caught, in the elevator, before rushing into his hotel room. The tourist, or whoever it was, filmed the two of you. Unfortunately, they also caught you coming out of Charles’ room, looking like you were doing a walk of shame.

“By early this morning, the photos were all over the internet, and The Sun posted a ludicrous story a few hours on the matter.”

“Please, no one believes The Sun. I mean, it’s The Sun, the crappiest tabloid ever made. Plus, these photos should blow over in a week - maybe two tops, right?”

“Yes… except this morning, someone decided to fan the flames of the article.” Georgia didn’t have to say the words for me to know exactly who it was.

Fucking Louis, my ex-boyfriend, and the gift that kept on giving. Every fiber of my being told me he was behind this, and if he wasn’t behind it, I knew he damn well would make the most of it.

“Louis was caught this morning at the airport offering up his opinions on the photos in front of tourists, VIPs… anyone that would listen…”

“Lucky me,” I sneered. “And tell me, what did my dear ex-boyfriend have to say about this?”

“He insinuated that you and Charles have been sleeping around for a while.”

“And by ‘insinuated,’ he just fucking flat out said it, didn’t he?” Again, the silence between the three of us told me everything I needed to know.

Oh, Louis.

He must have been immensely pleased with himself in that moment. He had always believed Charles and I had slept together during my first season in Formula 1, something I never confirmed as I knew it would only serve to make him more jealous.

I couldn't risk Louis's suspicions of Pierre growing further by making him aware that I had slept with someone else on the grid – that wasn't a reputation I wanted for myself.

”Georgia’s foot was now tapping up and down as she eyed me warily, not ready to utter the words that I could see were killing her on the inside.

“He accused you of sleeping around the grid, said that Charles wasn’t the only one…. Lily, Louis said that’s why you came third in the championship behind Charles last year, because you have been sleeping with him and a few of the guys.”

“I’m sorry… did my ex-boyfriend, who I caught in bed with another woman, dare to accuse me of cheating on him when he's had his dick in how much pussy?” I was now standing, my arms outstretched as I just motioned to me and then back to my phone like a buffoon. I was both speechless and had too much to say at the same time.

“Not in so many words.”

“Good grief, Georgia, just say yes.” My voice was laced with sarcasm as I said the words. I knew lashing out at one of my closest friends was not the answer, but the utter despair and frustration of this conversation was starting to get the best of me. My racing coach was phenomenal with data –bad with people.

“Look, he didn’t directly say it, but it’s clear that social media is inferring it from his words, especially considering everyone assumed you guys were dating… and now you aren’t.”

“Everyone thinks we currently aren’t dating because he was seen with a new blond bimbo!” I exclaimed, still waving my hands frantically in the air as I stood up, as if that was going to make my point hit home. “Of course, everyone was going to think it was my fault. No one ever blames the white man… Let me guess, Charles is coming away unscathed from this one?”

“Now that is where you’re wrong. Apparently, his sponsors and PR team aren’t thrilled about him sleeping with one of the two women on the grid, especially not one that just got out of a relationship with a supposed friend of his.”

“I didn’t think who either of us slept with was any of our sponsor’s business.” Georgia just gave me a pointed look that told me to stop daydreaming – of course, sponsors cared. I was their property until they stopped paying my bills.

“But the good news is, there is a solution to this.” Georgia’s face slightly lit up, and I immediately knew where she was going with this.

“You’re out of your mind. Like hell am I going to pretend to date Charles Leclerc. I don’t care if he’s your brother. I don’t care if he’s Ferrari’s golden boy. I don’t care that his stupid smug face could save my career. No. No way. Not a chance.” I downed my coffee and began pacing the room, but Georgia’s silence and slight uptick of her mouth told me that nothing I said had gotten through to her.

“Why do you hate my brother so much?” Georgia’s tone wasn’t as upset as I had expected. As twins, she and Charles were incredibly close, and yet Georgia always seemed so amused by the visceral reaction I had every time I saw her brother.

“I don’t hate your brother,” I bit back – unconvincingly.

“Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much,” Georgia winked.

“There’s no way Charles would agree to this! Why would he? The sponsors aren’t actually going to drop the racer all of the bookies have their money on.”

“No, you’re probably right, but his sponsors could make this very, very painful for him. Being seen having a one-night stand with a female driver who was dating your friend and a fellow racecar driver jsut days after their supposed break up, is a very bad look for Charles – and judging by the comments on his Instagram this morning, the fans have noticed. Believe it or not – Charles loves his golden boy image, and that image is unmistakably tarnished.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I believe that Charles loves his golden-boy image.” I couldn’t help but snicker, as if Georgia thought the entire grid wasn’t constantly witnessing Charles enjoy his status as the grid’s most desirable driver. The press loved him. The fans loved him. All of Monaco loved him.

Well, I guess until he slept with a certain rebellious Brit. That thought had me slightly grinning, a grin that was quickly wiped off my face as Georgia cleared her throat; her look of disappointment was noticeable.

“Georgia, there’s no way Charles is going to agree to this,” I insisted. The only thing Charles hated more than losing his precious reputation was the idea of dating the rebellious, stubborn British driver whose dirty laundry filled up a laundromat full of machines.

“He already has.”

Stunned didn’t describe how I felt as Georgia said the words. Not a single bone in my body believed what she was saying.

I was speechless.

“There’s no way…”

“There is. I spoke to my brother this morning after I chatted to Toto. Toto didn’t ask me if you were dating, but I could tell by his voice that he was definitely hopeful the two of you were dating. The Mercedes social media posts have been full of fan’s inquiries – and Toto said Petronas were asking as well.”

“So what you’re saying is none of these traditional sponsors want a grid slut… really puts a new meaning to grid girl.”

“Lily….” Georgia chastised as she rubbed her temples.

“No, no, it’s fine. No need to remind me of my place Georgia. I suppose I should be happy that my ‘hero’ Charles has come to my rescue, hmmm? Best to not look a gift horse in the mouth.” Again, I knew the sarcasm was untimely and incredibly rude, but the entire thing felt like a slap in the face.

“Look, I know it’s not what you want, but not only will it help boost both of your images, but it’ll put all of those dating rumors from Louis at bay and shut him up.

We’re looking to get ahead of things. If you and Charles announced that the two of you are dating, then Louis can’t exactly come out and say that 'no, in fact, Lily and I were dating.’ It would be much too embarrassing for him, especially since he has a new girlfriend. This stops all of the rumors about you and him and settles it once and for all.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There’s no way this was a good idea. Even if this worked, it wouldn’t matter, Charles and I would kill each other before either of us could see the benefits of this arrangement.

"And what does precious Charles get out of this?"

"Charles can restore his image and reputation. He's always been a relationship boy, and his relationship with whatever-her-name-was has been out of the public eye for some time now. He's never been the one-night stand type of guy, and this way he can have a positive relationship that won't get in the way of his racing."

I threw my hands up in disbelief as I exclaimed, "That's just great! So now I'm helping not only my rival with his PR image but also his racing? Fabulous!" I could only hope that Georgia would pick up on the sarcasm in my voice. "As far as I see it, you're helping each other," she said pointedly, and I knew she was reminding me of what I had at stake here. "Look, you don’t have to get back to me today. We have a couple of weeks’ break, and you have a few days at home. Take a day to think on it?”

“I don’t have to think on it. It’s a no.” Georgia just smiled at me as she sipped her small decaf coffee.

“Just take some time to think on it, Lily.”

Without sparing Georgia a glance, I stormed out of her hotel room and marched myself back to mine.

The notion of even considering this idea was so absurd that my blood boiled in rage.

Hell would have to freeze over before I would ever date Charles Leclerc.

Hate To Love You Tag List

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#charles leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 #charles leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc smut #f1 smut #Charles Leclerc x you #formula 1 #charles leclerc x ofc #f1 fanfic #cl16

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jellalism · 6 months

Text

Diluc x GN!Reader fic: In safe hands

You are having a depressive episode. Diluc takes care of you.

Word count: 1018

Genre: Comfort

Content warnings: Depression, not wanting to eat, and anti-natalist thinking (i.e. thinking it is better not to be born).

Notes: First published on AO3 a year and a half ago. Thought I'd finally post it on here, too.

Read below or on AO3.

You sit on the couch of the Dawn Winery Manor. Knees up, nestled under a blanket, staring into space. Comfy, but you’re not happy. It isn’t that anything is particularly wrong, but you’ve been feeling down today. The whole week, really. It’s just one of those episodes you have every once in a while. You know you’ll get through it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. On the worst days, you can barely drag yourself out of bed, eating is a chore, and doing any actual work is an impossible task. Today is perhaps not that bad, but not much better either. Add to that, the terrible boredom. If you had anything to distract yourself with, it might be bearable – but what do you do if your very diversions seem insurmountable tasks themselves? You sigh.

“y/n?” Diluc stands in the middle of the room, taking his coat off. You hadn’t even noticed him coming in.

“Hey,” you say. You wish you could be more outwardly enthusiastic, but you’re too sapped of energy. Inwardly, though, you are quite happy to see him.

“I see you are not doing so well.” He pauses, then walks up to you, bends over, and kisses your forehead. “Hold on, I will make you some tea.”

You murmur a word of thanks, but probably too softly for him to hear as he leaves the room. He could just have one of the servants make the tea, but he prefers to care for you with his own hands. Besides, his expertise doesn’t only pertain alcoholic drinks. He knows the exact right way to make tea, too. None of the servants’ tea can match the Master’s.

You listen to Diluc making noises in the kitchen, as he left the door open. Bringing the water to a boil, measuring the amount of tea, taking the pot from the cabinet – all the while humming a soft tune. Diluc has told you before that humming is an indispensable part of making good tea. You have your doubts, but have no reason to complain; you’re quite content listening to his song. Diluc isn’t free of his own demons, but he can get into the tasks at hand and lose himself in it, which allows him to hum in such a carefree way.

After a couple of minutes, Diluc returns, carrying a tray. On it, a pot of tea, two cups, and… a croissant. Why must he be so perceptive? you wonder. He definitely noticed you haven’t eaten – it is like a sixth sense he has. Diluc places the tray on the table and, without a word, starts pouring the tea. Then he puts one cup in front of you, giving you a smile and a wink. The second cup he places next to yours, and then he seats himself next to you on the couch. His arm goes over your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. You relax, leaning against his body. It’s warm, comfortably warm. You close your eyes.

“Tell me what is on your mind.”

You are silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you start softly. Diluc murmurs an encouraging sound. Still trying to find the right words, you continue: “Sometimes I just feel so down without an apparent reason. And once I’m that way, the negative thoughts come pouring in, to keep me held down. I fear that I’m never gonna be alright. That I’m not worthy of love. That I’ve misled people into loving me, because if they truly knew me, they wouldn’t stick around. That it'd be better for everyone if I were never born.”

“I respectfully disagree, my love.” Diluc replied. “You are… quite someone, you know? There is no need to be afraid that people would cower at the sight of the ‘real you’. I have been with you for some time, and you have bared your soul. And I am still here, remember? I love you with all your insecurities and wounds, all your mistakes and the things you think are imperfections. I have seen all of you, and I am ‘sticking around’. I love you, and I love being with you.”

A single tear runs over your cheek. “Thank you,” you say. The response feels inadequate, but you can’t quite put your feelings into words. “That means a lot,” you add, turning to face him. He smiles at you in a loving way. His right arm still wrapped around your shoulders, he brings his left hand to your face, holding your chin. His touch is ever so gentle, like you’re a beautiful yet fragile flower. You close your eyes as he leans in. His lips touch yours, press upon them with reservation betraying unparalleled devotion. He tastes like apple cider, with that slight taste of cinnamon.

As the kiss comes to an end, Diluc doesn’t lean back, but rather embraces you tightly. “You mean a lot to me,” he murmurs in your ear. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

You make no sound, letting yourself melt in his arms. They are so warm, so safe. Diluc breath tickles your neck.

After a while, Diluc lets go of the embrace, though one of his hands searches yours and holds it. With the other hand, he reaches for the plate with the croissant and picks it up. “Eat something, sweetheart.” You look at the pastry with aversion. Diluc doesn’t fail to notice. “I know you do not want to, but I do not wish to see you neglect your body. If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for me, alright?” He looks at you imploringly and softly squeezes your hand.

“Alright.” You remove your hand from his hold, take the croissant from the plate and take a small bite.

“Good,” Diluc mumbles under his breath. His now-freed hand goes to your head, and starts playing with your hair. “It’s so soft.”

As you slowly eat the pastry, Diluc continues his play with your hair. His fingers are so delicate, so careful. If it’s under his care, eating isn’t all that bad, you suppose.

Notes

Thanks for reading! I really enjoy reading your comments, whether that's as an actual comment or just your reactions in the tags of a reblog. So if you enjoyed, please leave a comment!

#genshin impact #diluc x reader #genshin x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x gn!reader #diluc x you #genshin x you #genshin x gn!reader #my writing

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susiephone · 7 months

Text

Or, a crash course in checking your sources. Because we've all seen some absolutely bullshit stuff spread around the internet, and Tumblr definitely isn't immune to it.

It can be hard to sort out the fact from the rumor from the propaganda when a story is actively developing, especially one that is fast-moving and has a lot of voices coming in from all sides, but it is vitally important that you check your sources before spreading a claim.

It's easier to verify or disprove a claim about something that's purported to have happened in the past, so, admittedly, checking stuff that's purported to be happening now is a messy, confusing process. All the more reason to err on the side of caution.

I am not a journalist or professional researcher or historian or anything like that, so this is all coming from a layman who does their best to be informed. If I get anything wrong, or anyone more qualified has something they want to add, please let me know in the notes.

Why should I check my sources?

Because you should care whether you're spreading propaganda or not.

Because sometimes in the heat of the moment, when emotions are running high, it's easy to be misled.

Because every time you spread misinformation to help your own cause, even - or especially! - if that cause is righteous, it becomes a ding on your credibility, and the credibility of your cause.

Because when you don't, a journalist loses their wings. Probably. Fact-check me on that.

How do I know when to check my sources?

If you don't recognize the source, check it.

If you hear a claim and think, "Wow, that is so cartoonishly evil," or, "That's so absurd I'd think it was far fetched if it was in a movie," or, "It's weird no mainstream outlets are reporting on this," check it.

Now, a claim sounding too bizarre or evil to be real doesn't always mean it isn't--I mean, half of what I hear about George Santos sounds like an SNL sketch and it always ends up true. But check it.

If the claim sounds like something a Nazi would want you to believe, check it.

If a claim is only being spread by one or two small sources, check it.

How do I check my sources?

The following sites are great resources for fact-checking.

PolitiFact. Ranks claims on a truth-o-meter and provides context for what's true, mostly true, kinda true, and made-up.

Media Bias/Fact Check: Publishes lists of fact checks from other credible sources, and ranks media outlets on their bias and trustworthiness.

Climate Feedback: Verifies claims about science, especially climate change.

Lead Stories: Verifies claims as they develop, especially stuff spreading on social media.

Here is a list of sources Media Bias/Fact Check considers to be the least biased.

What are some red flags to search for? / What are some questions I should ask myself?

Does the claim only come from a handful of small sources?

Do all those sources only cite each other?

It bears repeating: does this claim sound especially sensational or over-the-top? I know it sounds basic, but when you're furious at somebody (be it a person or a government or a system), it can be easy to believe every horrible thing you hear about them. But just because someone is awful doesn't mean every rumor about them doing awful things is true, and you still have a responsibility to keep your criticism accurate.

Who provides funding to the source? Do they work off of grants, reader donations and subscriptions, government backing, private donors? Do they not disclose their funding at all?

Has the source been caught spreading false info before? How long ago was this? Did they issue a correction in a timely manner? Was the journalist who spread the false claim fired or otherwise reprimanded? Does it seem like it was a mistake, or was there an agenda at play? Has the source taken steps to reestablish credibility?

Who benefits from me believing this?

Okay, I did all my fact-checking, and I'm really not sure if this claim is true or not.

Then don't share it.

If more information comes out and it turns out to be true, then go ahead.

But if there's doubt, don't share it.

Okay, sure, but the claim sounds like it could be true, and-

"Could be true" and "is true" are not the same.

Fine, but the person or government it's talking about has already done so many awful things, even if this specific rumor isn't true-

DON'T. SHARE. IT.

I am going to come to your house and bite you.

Further information.

How to fact-check like a pro.

The Psychology of Fact-Checking.

What is fact-checking?

Misinformation (YouTube video)

And there we go! If anyone has anything to add, go ahead, but I will be monitoring the comments and will be blocking any nonsense.

There's enough misinformation spread by bad actors in our current media landscape. Please don't make their job any easier.

#politics #journalism

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dipplinduo · 3 months

Text

Just a lil' check-in regarding S&S D engagement <3

Hey! I’ve honestly been debating on making this post, and I’m hoping I can come across intentionally here:

Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten an increased amount of asks/comments/etc. that are essentially inquiring about S&S D updates in ways that seem to be more on the “demanding” side, for a lack of better words (e.g., repetitive, insistent questioning regarding updates, not-so-politely worded “requests” to either abandon certain storylines or add something into a storyline, and even expressions of dissatisfaction/disapproval for when I’m choosing to write for something other than S&S D itself).

I’ve chosen to remain disengaged from this kind of behavior since it personally has felt upsetting, discouraging, and pressuring to receive. It unfortunately doesn’t really seem to be going away, and it has been affecting my writing process. So I just wanted to make myself a little clear here:

I personally don’t appreciate and will remain disengaged from interactions I’ve characterized above. I feel that I put a lot of hard work into what I do choose to do, and I also really do enjoy writing dipplinshipping content in general. I know many people on here may be following me primarily for S&S D – and that’s fine! But please know that I’m putting an equal amount of passion and effort into the other works I’m writing, and while you don’t need to read them if you don’t want to, publishing them still means a lot to me, personally; I don’t view them as being any “less” than S&S D, even if S&S D is pretty much my magnum opus in terms of hits/engagement.

I recognize that I’m pretty playful in my interactions in general, and a lot of these interactions may be coming from a completely well-intended place. So I do have faith that many of the comments I’ve received probably wouldn’t have been said if people knew how I’ve been feeling about receiving them. I’m hoping this post can clarify things going forward and help us all have a better understanding of each other as we celebrate dipplinshipping and have fun engaging with each other. 😊

That being said, here are the types of engagements that have felt really enjoyable regarding S&S D, and personally motivate me a LOT to keep writing:

Asks/discussions about things/moments that you’ve liked, or are wondering about (I’m open to constructive criticism, too, of course)

Asks/discussions that express general excitement, theorize, or talk about/inquire about potential breadcrumbs, etc.

Fanart! God, I love your fanart!

Headcanons too – whether they’re S&S D related or not!

Reactions to chapters, or quite literally anything that sparks dialogue (these ones I do deliberately delay answering so it doesn't spoil people immediately after an update, lol, but omg I love, love, love them!)

Lastly – I will say: I am actively working on Chapter 13 right now! I know how much people are eagerly waiting for it, and I’m grateful that it’s highly anticipated. It’s my full intention to write well rather than just write for the sake of producing; I want what you read to be of quality and worth your while. I will be letting you know when it’s coming out, as I always do! Thank you for your patience and understanding. 💕

With love,

dipplinduo

#my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #juliana pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran #asks

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dani-says-stuff · 1 year

Text

Myrtles Plantation

❥ Back to the Control Center

❥ Nate Hardy Masterlist

- note the reader is afraid of dolls in this one - also my love for Amanda spills through... a lot... but I think it adds character, spice, and humor, so I'm leaving it in

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Nate Hardy x fem!medium(?)reader

Summary: Based on this request

« could u do a nate x reader (in a relationship) at the haunted plantation?? like she sees something and amanda lets them know it was evil??? »

Thanks to this anon for reminding me this was in my drafts

Thank you for my first request anon!! so so so sorry it took so long!

I hope this is what you were looking for, I kinda went off the deep end with it lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: language, hauntings, evil spirits, creepy stuff, inconsistent capitalization, my disregard for run on sentences and “pRopEr gRammAr”, unedited ramble writings bc i just wanted to finally get it published for y’all, maybe incorrect timeline? technically? bc i can’t remember if Nate was in a video with Amanda before this one…

Dialogue Key:

Y/N

Nate

Sam

Colby

Amanda

Spirit Box

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

You and Nate were currently in his car, driving to the plantation for Sam and Colby's video.

Nate was nervous. That much was obvious from the tight, white-knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel. You could practically see the the tense emotions rolling off his skin in waves. You however, were practically buzzing in excitement.

You opened up the camera app on your phone to record a little clip. One you would either post to your instagram story soon, or you'd send it to Colby to put before the video... you hadn't really decided what you were going to say yet.

First, you brought the camera really close to your face, barely anything other than your forehead, eyebrows, and eyes in frame, "Ok so- I don't really know where this clip is going to be shared yet... or if it'll be out at all... but Nate is being boring and having a panic attack and I'm super excited and want to talk to someone about it."

You extended your arm, full face now in view as you smiled widely at the front facing camera, "Guess what!" you yelled, "We're filming with the boys again!" you spoke, flashing the camera to show Nate as he drove, "and that's not even the best part... drumroll please... the love of my freaking life is coming with us!" you squealed.

Nate's eyebrows furrowed, barely sparing a glance in your direction, instead keeping his eyes on the road, "Babe, you already showed me?"

"Oh not you." you scoffed, rolling your eyes, "You're just my boyfriend."

"Mhm..." he hummed, blinking a few times trying to figure what exactly it was he was failing to understand, "Yeah no. I don't get it N/N... pretty sure 'love of my life' and 'boyfriend' are the same thing."

You tilted your head pondering the thought for a moment, ultimately shaking your head innocently, "Nah, it can't be. There are two very different people that take up those positions."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yeah." you turned your gaze, meeting the side of his face,"You may be my boyfriend, and I love you so, so, so, very much..."

"But?"

"But.." you grinned turning to face the camera, "The love of my life is the wonderful and beautiful Amanda~" you sang, moving your phone forward once more blowing kisses at the screen.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so excited!" you yelled, shaking the screen for emphasis.

The brown haired male next to you laughed at your actions, "Babe, be careful, you're going to make 'em all dizzy."

"True" you shrugged, focusing your phone once more, "anyways, you've probably guessed it by now, but we're doing another investigation tonight!"

You flipped the camera, showing nothing but trees surrounding the vehicle, "We're currently in the middle of nowhere- but that's because this location is a little different than usual."

"Yeah, instead of like a house with like- other neighbors around it and stuff" Nate spoke up, "were going to a plantation, in the middle of just like- trees" he shivered awkwardly, hissing in discomfort, "so if we get in trouble or something there's nothing for miles."

You scoffed, pulling the view back on yourself, "Yeah I guess, but that's fine because nothing is going to go wrong!" you exclaimed happily

"Mhm, and how do you know that?"

You winked at the camera, patting the area over your chest, "I have a good feeling about it."

"Yeah ok then- remind me how you feel when we actually get there."

You laughed loudly at you boyfriend, finally getting a small crack of a smile across his lips. "Anyway, that's all for right now. See-you-all-when-we-get-there-bye-bye" you rushed, quickly ending the video.

As soon as he could tell you stopped recording, Nate spoke up, "now what was that for?"

"Updating the public" you shrugged, starting a quick conversation with Colby over text.

Hey~ might've just filmed a little intro clip for you

You're welcome of course

And you better use it

I put a lot of effort into it

Oh really?

Obviously

Send it over

I'll check it out

About 2 minutes later after your mini vlog went through, he responded

Oh yeah, thats going in

You're good if I do a little editing over it?

Ofc

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Later, when viewers clicked on the video, they would be greeted to a huge tone shift between the first 2-3 minutes of the video, versus the of it.

First, your little intro, which basically became a fan cam for Amanda. Bright hearts and anime blush- the whole nine yards.

Broken, of course, every once in a while with a freeze framing on your real partner. The video going gray scale, with rain and violin music playing in the background.

Then, hard cut straight to the footage outside the plantation. ━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Soon, the group of five were all stood before Myrtles plantation, waiting for the tour to begin.

Sam turned to Nate, camera pointed to him, "Are you excited?"

"Dude- I- just-" your boyfriend sighed dramatically, bringing his hands up to rub at his eyes. You, however, could be seen lurching forward in laughter at his reaction, "It just like everytime you bring me on one of these."

You walked up, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm your breaths, "Yeah, so thats a no." you looked up at him, pouting when he met your gaze, "He's very nervous"

"You look terrified."

"I can tell by your- genuine face of excitement right now"

Nate forced a sarcastic smile on his face that turned out more of a grimace, "Oh yeah? This face? Right here?"

You struggled to hold back your laughter, "All excitement from him on the way up here"

He turned his head, looking down at you as you were still holding onto his shoulder, "You know, usually you're a bit more cautious about these things."

You shrugged, "But we have Amanda here this time," you gestured to her, "There's finally someone else to help me keep you guys from doing something stupid."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

The five of you entered the house, deciding to take a quick look around before the tour guide arrived.

Almost immediately upon entering the door, something caught your attention- and no it wasn't the smell the boys were busy commenting on.

Hung on the wall of the foyer, there was a mirror. You couldn't quite put a finger on it, but you could tell there was something strange about it.

For now, you just assumed it was how dated the mirror looked. Nothing from today looked like that.

Soon, the boys called you over to the steps, wanting to take a peek upstairs. Sam and Colby had already made their way up with Nate following behind them, leaving you and Amanda still on the first floor.

"Hey" you tapped the blondes shoulder, "Just to- uh, to make sure... you feel that too, right?" you asked, looking up the stairwell.

She hummed, "Yeah, thats probably because of what happened on the 17th step."

You simply nodded enthusiastically despite having not clue what the significance of that specific step was, "Oh yeah of course. Just making sure I wasn't the only one feeling that sense of impending doom" you joked

Amanda laughed breathily at your phrasing, "Yeah, after events like that, they tend to leave a heavier, darker feel behind."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

You didn't find out till later that night, it wasn't just a slip down the stairs, but a death on the 17th step.

Thanks a lot for leaving that out Sam.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

By the time you made it up the flight of stairs, the group had entered one of the bedrooms. Everyone was inside except for your boyfriend, who stood before the doorframe waiting for you.

"Hey babe..." he spoke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, grabbing your hand with the other, "so, just like a heads up, there's like... a shit ton of creepy ass dolls in there."

Your eyes widened looking up at him, "What?"

"Yeah, like the entire mantle?" he gestured with his hands, "Just- completely covered."

"I don't wanna go in there" you shook your head quickly, eyes still wide as saucers gripping his hand tighter.

"Just- just don't look to your right when we walk in?"

You squinted you eyes at him, "...why?"

Nate shrugged, "Oh you know, there might be one that is kinda-sorta positioned to look at you when enter." he spoke nonchalantly as he dragged you through the door.

You glared up at the brunette, "what?"

"By the way, we have to sleep here tonight-" the both of you heard from further in the room, "So someone is getting the room with the creepy doll staring at you."

You knew your friends- so without even thinking you threw your pointer finger up, touching your nose.

"Woah, woah, woah" you rushed when the other three looked in your direction with shit eating grins, "No I did it- it was Col-"

"Nope, I'm safe" the black haired man cut you off.

You looked up slowly, glare pointed directly at your shocked boyfriend, who hadn't done it in time. "I'm going to kill you."

You looked over his shoulder, seeing the dolls for the first time. You quickly dropped his hand running over past Amanda and out to the next room, "Nope! I just wont be sleeping with you."

Nate quickly followed, arms extended "Wait babe! No please! Don't leave me alone!" Leaving a laughing Sam and Colby behind, filming the entire thing.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

"Sam" you spoke up once the tour was over, "next time we do one of these things you've got to tell me more than just 'oh were going to a haunted mansion'" you mocked

"What's up?" he laughed, "What do you mean?"

"Oh you know" you gestured around, speaking with your arms, "yellow fever death child, owner of the house killed on the steps, poison murders, voodoo queen death, ghost mirrors-" you listed propping your hands on your hips, "I could go on and on."

"It's haunted Y/N, what did you expect?"

"Not this!" you shrieked.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Soon, the five of you began the investigation in Chloe's room, each wearing a set of clip on earrings. Thanks to your wonderful, amazing boyfriend, you and Amanda were wearing the hoops.

In addition to the earrings, Amanda came with some gifts with the four of you. she gave Colby a crystal to help amplify his empathic skills, and evil eye bracelets for both Nate and Sam.

"These are just because I felt bad getting something for Colby and not you two." she spoke handing over the bracelets.

The raven haired man gasped, bringing his hands up to his chest, "She has a favorite!"

Nate placed his hands up on his waist, popping out his hip, "Well that's ok." he shot back sassily, dangly earrings swishing by his neck.

The blonde girl however, hummed in agreeance with Colby reaching back into her bag, "Yep, but it's not you." setting off scandalized gasps from the two men and hysteric laughter from sam. Amanda approached you with a small bag usually used for jewelry.

You took it smugly, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek, "Thank you m'love"

"of course darling" she played along, "I heard you also have some abilities, so I picked out three things to help" she spoke as you opened the bag, pouring the items in your hand, "Ok, so this one is Labradorite" she pointed to the darker, slightly iridescent one, "It is one of the best crystals for enhancing abilities, it extends your awareness, helps you connect with the spiritual world and can be very grounding and helpful for mediums." she moved to the brighter crystal, "This one is Angelite, the same as Colby's-"

"oh." the mentioned male scoffed playfully, crossing his arms, "I see how it is... I feel very special now."

"-and the last one," Amanda pointed to a pitch black stone that was attached to a corded necklace, "is Black Tourmaline, which is really good at protecting and shielding you from bad energy. It can basically cleanse you from any unwanted energy that comes your way."

"Ok!" sam exclaimed, "Now that we've handed out the gifts and the pity gifts" he raised his wrist up to the camera, making the rest of you laugh, Lets get on to the investigation!"

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

The group decided to move on to the seance room after very little seemed to be happening within Chole's room.

"I hated this room earlier" Nate shivered next to you, "It just... I don't know, it's just weird."

You nodded as you followed him in, "Yeah? Now imagine feeling heavy when you walk in"

"Really?" he looked down at you, "What do you mean?"

"It's just like what Amanda said earlier," you shrugged softly, "it's just very heavy in here, it feels tight."

You let go of Nate's hand, leaving him as he went to look at a painting in the corner, approaching Amanda instead. You stood next to the blonde as she looked up at the mirror that faces the one in the other parlor.

You shifted you gaze between her and the mirror quickly, "So... whatcha lookin at?"

She gestured you to stand next to her facing the mirror, never once moving her own gaze from the glass, "so look up there," she pointed at a specific area, "and unfocus you eyes- almost like youre trying to look through the mirror" she explained.

Within a few seconds she could feel you tense beside her, causing the blonde to grin, "you see it?"

"yeah" you breathed, nodding slowly, "yeah I see it"

"Yo wait" Nate whipped around, "see what? exactly?" he moved up behind you, placing his head over your shoulder, squinting his eyes to find whatever the two of you seemed to see, "I dont see it"

"I keep seeing things move behind me" Amanda spoke

"I cant see anything specific" you added, "but I can see shapes moving" you explained gesturing up to point in the direction of the areas you spoke of, "like I saw something move like this" you dragged you hand, "and something over there"

Amanda hummed in affirmation, "yep, where you just pointed, between this wall in the candles, there's someone" she moved her other hand, "and over here, where you saw something move, there was some kids."

"thats crazy"

"are you feeling anything right now?" Nate questioned, as Colby moved to flip off the lights.

The both of you answered simultaneously, gaving very opposite answers,

"No."

"Yes."

and for the first time in what felt like hours, you and Amanda broke your gazes from the mirror turning to each other instead.

"You really dont feel that?"

she shook her head, "no, I'm seeing them. I feel that someone is here, like I have full goosebumps"

"N/N" Nate placed a hand on your shoulder, "what are you feeling?"

You looked back to the mirror, looking for anymore blurs, only to see nothing, "It felt like- happy? I guess? Like you know that feeling of when you'd go to the park when you were younger and you were just like- excited? it felt like that."

Amanda nodded slowly in thought, "well, that could be the kids I saw, they did look pretty happy."

"but now" you spoke up once more, causing the boy's eyebrows to furrow, "now it just feels crowded. I cant pull one emotion from another. Its so weird."

"the energy in here is insane" Amanda agreed, "I feel like if we did a seance at the seance table- we could get some pretty gnarly stuff"

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

So, that what the group did. you broke out the spirit box, and immediately you were greeted with several hellos.

"Is there any sign you could give us of who were talking to?" Sam spoke up, "a name, an occupation?"

Kate

Colby looked up with squinted brows, confused at the sound "what did that say"

"it said Kate" you responded from next to Nate, hand on his arm, "im pretty sure it said Kate"

"yeah" Amanda added, "I wrote Kate right before it said that"

"is it true that this room is a portal?"

you stepped back at the question, making Nate look to you in concern "guys I just got really nautious-"

Evil

"oh no-no-no- I don't like that" you rush out, placing yourself on the other side of the doorframe, "i'm definitely not a fan of that"

Sam, Colby, Nate and Amanda continued to speak to the spirit box within the room while you stayed in the hallway. Nate moved from the group and closer to you to make sure you were ok.

"Can you tell us how many spirits are in here with us right now?"

three

from the doorway, you couldve sworn you saw a flash of green reflect in one of the glass window panes. Green, like the head wrap Chloe was said to wear.

"do you think.." you trailed off moving closer to your boyfriend, "could Chloe be one of them?" you whispered.

he stepped out of the room upon seeing your expression. You seemed paler than usually and he could almost see you shaking with wide glassy eyes staring back at him. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back to give you some semblance of comfort.

Nate, his chin resting in your head, repeated your words louder to for the group still inside the room to hear, "Was that Chloe?"

Look

you whimpered, pressing your face into his chest, "nope. tell Amanda to look at the window-"

"-that candle just got so bright at the far end-"

"-yeah that one." you mumbled, "the window by the candles. I saw something green over there."

the brown hared man nodded, raising his voice to cut off the trio 's conversation on the candle's, "Amanda? N/N said to check around that window. She said she saw something green flash overthere earlier."

"Yo! What?" sam exclaimed excitedly, moving to you both with the camera while Amanda looked by the window pane, "What happened? what did you-"

he was cut off by Nate shaking his head quickly above you, "not right now" he whispered to the blonde, "later."

Sam nodded understandly, moving to film Amanda by the window, "You see anything?"

"no, not anymore." she stated, "its all clear, whatever it was must've moved by now."

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

A few rooms and a short reenactment later, it was time for solo investigations. Well, at least it was solo for Sam and Colby, you, Nate, and Amanda were able to go out on the porch together.

The three of you were given the spot where Chloe's picture was taken, and had decided to take turns doing the Estes Method. Amanda was first up in the rocking chair.

"I've got some information"

"woah" Nate turned to the camera to you, who was laughing softly from shock.

"We didnt even ask anything yet," you looked into the camera lens, "and were already getting answers? this is crazy"

Nate hummed, "Yeah this is insane- what type of information do you have?"

"lets go"

"Go where?" you questioned, "where do you want to go?"

after a few minutes you received no response. you shrugged, looking over to Nate, "I don't know, you ask a question" you laughed, "it doesn't like me I guess"

He shrugged at your statement, readying his next question "Chloe, did you put yourself at risk to get the information?"

"ready"

you squinted at one another, "are you ready to put yourself at risk?"

"for the information?" Nate added on.

"yes"

you shook your head with a smile, " I guess she's ready ti talk"

"yes"

"Chloe was it you that they photographed in this alleyway?"

"Accident"

"You didnt intend to be in the photo?"

You turned around, looking off the balcony as Amanda shivered, brushing her arms, "something just touched me"

Nate turned his head, looking your direction as you gazed out onto the dark field, "Babe?" he whispered, "You alright?"

"yeah" you muttered, scanning the yard, "yeah, I just got that feeling that something was watching me." you shook your head and rolled your shoulders, "it was probably nothing."

Nate nodded slowly, continuing his questioning of Amanda rather than you, glancing at your from the corner of his eye to make sure you were alright. "Chloe, does guilt keep you here?"

"I knew it was wrong"

You and Nate brought Amanda out of the trance to add a trigger object, things for more intense from there. The answers seemed more and more on the nose, and the small inkling you had of being watched quickly increased tenfold.

You soon felt like you spent less time engaged in the investigation, and more time peering over your shoulder.

"it was the family name"

"Woodruff? Did you hear Woodruff?" Nate rushed, "are you trying to tell us about the Woodruff family?"

"It went silent" Amanda exclaimed, "like full complete silence for a full 'Mississippi' and then it started again"

"it was in the house"

"Are you tired"

"I hope you don't mind" Nate mentioned, gesturing too the plant, "We have oleander in Amanda's hand-"

"I know"

"-was the death an accident or was it an act of revenge?"

"Nate" you whisper, looking out into the yard, "I...I don't think this is a good idea anymore."

his eyebrows furrowed, peering at you while keeping the camera on Amanda, "Why? What's up"

you sighed, "I just- I think we should stop. something doesn't feel right." you tore your gaze from the dark, looking up to him, "something's wrong-"

"its time to wrap up-"

The blonde spoke removing the blindfold and headphones, "I swear, it said, 'its time to wrap up'"

"See!" you gasped hitting the man's arm, "told you!"

Amanda looked between the two of you, both of your eyes were wide and your posture screamed that you were both worried, "what's going on?"

Nate set the camera down on the bannister, still filming, as he went to get all the equipment together, "N/N was just talking about how something feels wrong and we should quit." he looked up at the blonde, "she's been feeling weird this whole time"

The two continue talking while you walk further up the porch. The feeling of being watched became stronger and stronger as you surveyed the yard, eventually catching a glimpse of something off to the side. You leaned over the wood and squinted, trying your best to get a better look.

Soon, you saw it.

"Guys" you muttered, trying again louder when they didn't respond "Guys!"

Nate looked up seeing how far down the porch you'd wandered, "N/N? what's going on?"

you looked at them eyes wide, "There's someone out here." you panicked, "please, please tell me you're almost done because there's someone in the yard and they're getting closer."

Nate straighted his back, looking into the grass too. he didnt see anything at the moment, but you were so far down and it was dar enough that it could simply be that he was too far. He waved his arm gesturing you over to them, "N/N I need you to come down here right now"

For all he knew, that was some psyco trying to add a new spirit to the home. That spirit, would not be you if he had anything to say about it.

"oh my god" you yelled, running up beside the two, "its getting closer."

The brown haired man moved to shield the two of you, shoving the equipment you three brought out to you an Amanda, only keeping a flashlight, "Go inside."

"but-"

"Y/N go inside."

"Wait" Amanda spoke up, peeking around the man's shoulder, "to the left?"

you were shaking at this point, "yeah, It followed me down from that side"

The blonde moved forward, pulling the flashlight from Nate's grip, illuminating the patch to see nothing there, "There?"

you tilted your head in confusion, "well... yeah? it was-"

Amanda turned off the flashlight and the both of you were greeted with the dark figure once more, this time it was only about 10 feet from the railing.

"oh my god" you breathed, heart hammering in your chest.

The urgency in your boyfriend began to dissipate, believing that while a spirit following his girlfriend wasnt the best- it was better than her being followed by an actual crazy person.

However the seriousness of the blonde nearly doubled once she caught sight of the glowing red eyes. "You are not allowed to be here." she spoke stern, making you stiffen even further, "you do not have permission to follow us or come any closer."

"Amanda, what is happening?" you spoke, eyes trained on the humanoid figure before you.

"move back to the door" the blonde spoke softly to you and nate, before strengthening her voice once more, "You do not have the right to follow us into the home, you must stay out here."

Once the door closed, the blonde watched the figure through the window until it dissolved into the air.

"you see that stuff all the time?" you stuttered, clinging to Nates arms that wrapped around your waist, "like thats what a ghost is? I've never actually seen something like that before"

"no." the blonde spoke turning to face you, "that... Y/N, that wasnt a spirit. that was a demon."

#nate hardy x reader #nate hardy imagine #sam and colby imagine #request #nate hardy

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writingquestionsanswered · 20 days

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Motivated by Reader Connection

Anonymous asked: I recently did some reflecting and figured that I want to write because i want to be in conversation with readers who connect with my work, not because of the process of writing, but I worry this is a bad motivation to get into professional writing. Currently I am writing fanfiction and in fandom it's quite normal to be in the same communities with readers, but my professional writer friends tell me this is not the case for folks who publish their work. In fact, it seems like being in the same community with readers is more damaging to the writer than it is inspiring. I'm rambling, but my main question is... is it wrong to want connection with the audience as motivation for writing professionally?

Is it wrong to be motivated by wanting to connect with your readers? Absolutely not. In fact, I would say that's a pretty typical motivation for publishing in the first place. It's just that how you define that connection can vary, and it doesn't always require a literal conversation with the reader.

What I mean is this: storytelling, quite often, is about exploring the human condition through theme, thematic statement, symbolism, cautionary messaging, and even illustrating a belief or opinion. In and of itself, that's "having a conversation with the reader," it's just that your involvement in the actual back and forth of the conversation is passive. As in any conversation, you make a statement and support it in various ways, and the reader responds with an understanding, a question, or a rebuttal. The only difference is you're not in receipt of that response... it stays in the reader's head, so part of your job as a writer is to anticipate what their understanding, question, or rebuttal will be so that you can respond right in the story. So, for example, let's say you've written a story where your message is something like "we are the masters of our own fate." You're going to illustrate that message through the events of the story and the things the protagonist goes through. Each time something happens where you add to this message, the reader comes away with something--you anticipate what that will be, then address it in a later thing that happens. So, in that way, it's still very much like having a conversation, even if it's not a two-way conversation in the moment.

Also, a lot of writers interact with readers in other places... book signings, readings, workshops, and other events.

Even outside of that, though, it's not true at all it's not normal for "professional writers" to be in the same communities with their readers. It certainly depends on who you are, what you write, and how you define community. For example, I can't imagine literary beacons like Kazuo Ishiguro or Ian McEwan probably spend a lot of time engaging with their readers on social media, but there are plenty of writers who do. Neil Gaiman, Margaret Atwood, John Green, Brandon Sanderson, Diana Gabaldon, Seanan McGuire, George R.R. Martin, Jenn Bennett... these are just a handful of published (and well known) authors who regularly interact with their readers on social media. And, those are just big name authors... when you start getting into the ranks of authors who don't have movies or TV shows based on their novels, you'll see interaction become more and more common.

As an indie author, my social media community is split between my readers and my author friends. And, sometimes my author friends become readers, and my readers become author friends. It can be whatever you want it to be. You can choose the type of interaction you want and the level. Some writers choose not to interact at all, but by no means does that mean it's "not normal" to interact or that interaction makes them inferior in any way.

So, I definitely wouldn't say that wanting to interact with--and have both literal and figurative conversations with--your readers is bad motivation. In fact, I strongly suspect more writers are motivated by that or some aspect of it than they are by the writing process itself. I can honestly say I don't know a lot of writers who are in it only because they love to write. Writers who are in it only because they enjoy the process usually aren't publishing their work.

I hope that reassures you!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

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nekoannie-chan · 28 days

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Pain

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 622 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve broke your heart

Major Tags: Doubts, cheating, Sharon Carter.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @flordeamatista Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge with the prompt:

"You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you're with 'em. Love the way you lie"

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

You were running as fast as you could; it was as if something was stopping you from breathing. Your heart was pounding like it was going to explode, but you knew it was because of all the feelings pressing on your chest. You had decided to surprise Steve; you knew how to help him so he and Bucky could escape. However, the surprise was for you when, on arriving at the agreed-upon place, you saw Steve kissing Sharon Carter. The pain that shot through you was indescribable, probably worse than if you had been stabbed straight through the heart, making the air dense and unbreathable, as if you were trapped and imprisoned in a tiny place. You froze, unable to look away from the scene unfolding in front of you. "You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you're with 'em," you thought, each word feeling like an open wound in your heart. At that moment, you wondered if you could ever breathe normally again.

Steve slowly pulled away from Sharon, but suddenly his attention was drawn to you. His eyes, full of surprise and concern, searched yours for an explanation he couldn't give. None of that was supposed to have happened.

You tried to say something—anything that could explain your presence there—but the words stuck in your throat. You couldn't bear what you had just seen; you wanted to run away, or maybe give an explanation or pretend nothing had happened, but how could you ignore what you had just witnessed?

Similarly, Steve looked confused, as if he wanted to explain, although he didn't know exactly what to say either.

The silence between you was too much; you were sure that any sound, even the slightest, could be heard. Finally, it was Steve who broke the impasse, taking a few hesitant steps towards you.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret and confusion. "I don't know what to say... You shouldn't have seen that."

Tears threatened to overflow from your eyes, but you forced yourself to hold them back. You didn't want to show him your weakness, not when he had seen enough. You took a deep breath, trying desperately to find the right words to express everything you were feeling at that moment. Even though it seemed impossible, you felt like a fool for always supporting him in everything, for loving him, and for letting him play with your feelings.

"I'm sorry," Steve repeated, moving even closer, as if he wanted to reach out to you but was afraid of scaring you. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You shouldn't have been here."

Your lips trembled before you began to speak. You needed strength and to concentrate on what you were going to say, even though it seemed so difficult. "I don't know why I came," you confessed, the voice barely a whisper that came through. "I thought... I thought I might...". You stopped, unable to finish the sentence, as the lump in your throat threatened to stop you from speaking.

Steve looked at you and reached out a hand towards you, but hesitated before touching you, as if he feared his touch would only make things worse.

"I don't know what to say," he finally admitted. "I can't explain what happened... between Sharon and me. But it doesn't change how I feel about you."

Steve's words left you dazed and confused. How could he say he loved you while he was entangled with someone else?

You turned around and started to walk away. Sometimes love wasn't as sweet as everyone thought it was, and sometimes it seemed like it was trying to drown you, on the verge of stopping you from breathing.

#Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge #steve rogers x reader

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avalentina · 4 months

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My newest fic, this one will most likely end up being published as a series. For now it is in my Harry Styles page on my Masterlist. I'm not sure how long it will be, and I'm still working on the story itself so it might be a bit before I post more, but the poll showed that about 2/3 of you wanted it now. So without further ado ...

Word count: 4,074

Warnings: bits of anxiety, depression, feeling overwhelmed; Robin Twist's death, grief; unnamed douchebags who want you for your money and title

Noble!Harry (Peerage!Harry) x Princess!Y/N

Note: This story features certain words in multiple languages mainly traditional Chinese, but I have put the English word or phrase in parentheses directly after the translated word or phrase.

Ex: Mǔqīn (Mother)

The Princess's Lover

Zero: Enchanted Love

(any and all pictures are not mine, all I do is collage them, pictures of Harry are a reference for his appearance during the specific moment, all other pictures are only for the purpose of an outfit/hairstyle/accessory, Y/N can look however you would like her to)

I remember the day as though it was just yesterday. Hard to believe it was closer to five years ago now.

(FLASHBACK)

I was at yet another ball, sometimes it feels like my parents, the King and Queen of MiraZhou, host one every week. I'm 19 year old Princess Y/N, the only girl to graduate from my private high school without ever being kissed. I've had a few offers for courtship, none of which I've accepted, all of them just a family's desperate attempt to increase their wealth, status, and favor in the eyes of my parents. I'm being the perfect princess, as I usually tend to be. I've never found anything I wanted to rebel for, I mean I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have more choice in my life, but I guess you could say I'm terrified to actually find out what that would really entail.

This ball tonight was a masquerade, not that it actually made a difference in my case, seeing as I’m stuck wearing a tiara. The one I'm wearing may be my second favorite tiara, and my favorite formal tiara, but it does a wonderful job at making it known exactly who I am. For that reason, I've actually been trying to avoid talking to anyone at tonight’s ball.

It’s not until I’m summoned to my parents’ side for the formal ‘thank you for hosting’ part of the night that my care for this particular event heightens. My family knows everyone in our court based on their voices alone. As a family of four gets to the front of the line. I recognize the voices as Duke Desmond, Duchess Anne, and Lady Gemma of Duchy Holmeshire, but it’s their son that I can’t say I’m familiar with. As they make their approach, I catch eyes with him, the soft green of them is mesmerizing, I feel as though I could get lost in them and just be happy.

“And I see Lord Harry has returned from University, Cambridge in England correct?” My father asks Lord Harry directly.

“Yes, your majesty, uh sir.” Lord Harry replies, fumbling his words slightly probably to do with being away for so long, but he has an english accent that he must’ve developed during his time abroad, and it definitely suits him well.

“It’s good to have you back in MiraZhou Lord Harry.” My mother says, offering him a gracious smile. “I don’t believe you’ve formally met Princess Y/N?” she adds.

“I have not, It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, your highness.” Harry says to me as we make eye contact again and he does another short bow.

I can’t help the wide smile that appears on my face as I return the introduction. “Likewise Lord Harry,” I say and offer him my hand to kiss. A gesture I don’t give out lightly, and you can tell that by the tiny gasp that slips out of my mother’s mouth before she stifles it, and the way Duchess Anne’s smile grows a tad bit wider.

As the Styles family of Holmeshire takes their leave so the next group of nobles can greet us, Harry and I caught eyes one more time and I mouthed silently ‘bye’ with yet another wide smile.

After the “thank you’s” were over, my mother and father turned to each other. I heard my mother tell my father, “I’ll invite them to the palace for dinner one day next week.” I smiled to myself and excused myself for a brief restroom break, that I spent staring at where Harry had kissed my hand, remembering the softness of his lips, and how I really hope he didn’t have any other potential matches. Harry and I didn’t get another chance to talk that night, but we always seemed to be catching each other’s eyes, even from across the large ballroom.

“Y/N, darling, the Duke and Duchess of Holmeshire will be joining us for dinner tomorrow night.” My mother said at breakfast that following Tuesday morning. My attention perked up at that.

“Are Lady Gemma and Lord Harry joining them?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Not this time, but they both will be joining their parents here for dinner on Thursday night.” She said with a smile that I returned. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up about a courtship dear. Tomorrow night will allow your father and I to find out about Lord Harry’s current status, and any potential matches he may already have.”

“I know Mǔqīn (Mother), thank you, and I apologize for my obvious reaction, I’ll work on those some more.” I say, apologizing.

“Xiǎo jiāhuo (little one), we're happy you're actually excited about a possible courtship. I saw the way you lit up that night, it reminded me of how happy the first few conversations I had with your mother made me. Which is why you, Lizabeth, and Helena will be having dinner in the slumber party suite you used to enjoy. That way we can shield you from whatever potential hurt there may possibly be.” Father adds to mother's comment.

“And darling, your expressions are wonderful, a princess should not be void of emotion, nor always show indifference, your emotion shows your honesty in that feeling and that is what makes you an amazing princess. Your manners and etiquette are exactly where they should be. True feeling is just as important as manners and etiquette. Now run along, you have classes to get to.” Mother finishes out our conversation. I love attending University, it's the only time I'm allowed to wear jogger pants and hoodies in public. With no makeup or tiara or heeled shoes. I am intentionally supposed to look unimportant, because it does help me blend in a little bit more and instead of eight guards I only have three, all dressed down to appear as students as well.

My midnight violet Lamborghini centenario topless with ‘gongzhu (princess)’ as the license plate is the closest resemblance to royalty I get. After my classes for the day are done, Creyton, who is my lead guard, and I head to my favorite nearby pizza truck for a slice each before we return to the palace. Our usual nearby chess table is taken today and when I look again, it's none other than Lord Harry and a friend of his playing while enjoying a slice as well.

I elect to take the table next to them which happens to be open. As Creyton and I begin our setup and start talking, Harry turns to me, having probably recognized my voice.

“Your highness, what brings you out into the city today?” He asks quietly, careful to avoid drawing attention to me. He turns to Creyton and offers a handshake.

“I attend university in the city, so classes, but my lead guard, Creyton here, and I usually stop for a slice or two and a few plays on a chessboard before heading back.” I say with a small smile.

“We really should be going Y/N.” Creyton comments, now that I've been ‘recognized’ we have to head straight back or risk breaking protocol, and I like having Creyton around too much to let him get fired for something as simple as a protocol violation.

“I'll see you at dinner on Thursday night H.” I say to him, not wanting to compromise his lunch either. With that I head back to my car. Creyton follows me closely and we met up with the other two members of my security team. They share a very brief ten to fifteen second report before we get into the cars and head back to the palace.

“Princess, you know you're not supposed to talk to anyone besides me during that time, and you're definitely not allowed to advertise my name and who I am.” Creyton says to me during the quiet drive back to the palace.

“I know, I'm sorry Creyton, I wasn't expecting Lord Harry to be there, let alone at our usual table. It won't happen again, and I fully understand any repercussions that arise.

Lizabeth and Helena were not the best of distraction that night. Especially considering all they talked about was Lord Harry's return from England, and how attractive he is.

“Ladies, please, his parents are downstairs having dinner with my parents.” I say aloud and both girls turn to me.

“He's here? Lord Harry is here? Y/N please you have to introduce us.” Lizabeth practically begs.

“He, is not here, just his parents, and I will consider introducing you after they find out if he's available for a match. And if he is, I've pretty much already got dibs, I hope. Did you two miss the candids of him kissing my hand and the wide, stupid smile on my face.”

“Oh my God, Y/N has a crush! It's about time.” Lizabeth squeals.

“And on that note, we promise to back off, but if he has any extremely attractive friends please promise to introduce us.” Helena states and I smile.

“I know he has at least one semi-attractive friend. But he definitely wasn't from here. His accent sounded way too Irish.” I said and they both just looked at me. “I’ll look into it, I promise, just not right now.” They both grumbled a bit, but agreed.

It was late Thursday morning when my mother and father both entered the study I use for my schoolwork. I have three different 20 page essays due next week so I decided to have one of the kitchen staff bring breakfast to my study. I just finished finalizing and submitting one, and was polishing the second when they knocked. I closed my laptop so I wouldn’t be distracted by my essay while they told me whatever it is they have to say.

“Look at you, working hard on your economics degree.” Father said, smiling proudly.

“But that’s not why we’re here Damien.” Mother interrupts before he can continue on that line of topic further. “We’re here because we thought you might want to know more about Lord Harry Styles before dinner tonight.” She continued.

“He is not currently courting anyone, and Duchess Anne mentioned that he asked her to help him get up to speed on where you’re at and what has been keeping you occupied lately.” Father said and I legit squealed. It felt like hundreds of thousands of butterflies were dancing in my stomach. “We figured that would be your reaction and wanted to make sure you had ample time to put your finest princess foot forward for dinner tonight. We’ve arranged a walk through the rose garden for the two of you before dinner starts. Lord Harry will be here at four, and dinner is at six.” He finished saying.

“So in girl terms, you might want to start getting ready now.” Mother added with a smile and I quickly excused myself and hugged them both before taking off towards my rooms at nearly a full sprint.

“Mel, Marie, Helga!” I hollered into the staff door from my entry room. Mel and Marie are my new ladies maids and Helga is assisting them in learning everything before she officially retires next month. The girls tie half of my hair up into a braid and a bun, and then curl the remaining pieces, I have a simple gold and diamond tiara, gold gladiator flats, and a one shoulder golden gown. I ended up on the gold because i knew it would reflect in the sun during our walk, and it’s also a color I’ve always loved wearing. Plus it’s proven to be a confidence booster, and I have a feeling i’m going to be in need of a lot of that tonight. Other than my title, I have no idea what I have going for me in regards to why I’d make a good match. Though I’d rather he like Y/N, rather than just Princess Y/N. I needed to be radiant tonight, for myself, although, who wouldn’t want to look golden?

At exactly 3:56 pm I make my way towards the main palace entrance, it’s a solid five minute walk from my rooms, and it usually takes guests anywhere between fifty and seventy-five seconds to go from the drive, up the stairs, and finally step inside the doors. Which means that if I timed this correctly he should be just stepping inside the doors as I step off the last step to get to the entry foyer.

I maintain my normal pace and arrive to the front entry in exactly five minutes. However when I get there, Harry is already waiting for me in a mostly black suit, a bit of gold on the shirt, and a black suede hat.

“My apologies Lord Harry, it took a bit longer to get ready than I had anticipated.” I said to him as soon as I had made my approach.

“Well, it was well worth the minute long wait, you look radiant your highness.” He says back with a bow. “Shall we?” He suggests and holds his arm out for me to take.

“You’ll have 12 feet of privacy.” My mother informs us as I take his arm and we depart. I wave a small goodbye to my mother and father before turning all of my focus onto my walk with Harry.

“You’re going to have to guide me, I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea where we’re supposed to be going.” He says with a small chuckle.

“I suppose, though getting lost does sometimes lead to finding something unique, fascinating, and totally unexpected. A left at the spiral hedge just up ahead.” I say.

“That’s true, it’s an adventure, that much is for sure.” He replies with a smile.

We walk in silence for a minute or so as we enter the rose garden. He pauses just before the first fountain.

“Why me?” He asks a few seconds after we stopped. He’s staring into my eyes and I can’t help but stare back. “My mum told me that you have a habit of turning down courtships, and being very selective about who you let kiss your hand, so why let me? I mean you could have your choice of princes from distant lands, lords with so much more wealth, and fame than myself, the male heirs of duchies that make mine look infintesimal.”

“I hope this isn’t awkward of me to say but to be honest, the first time we caught each other’s eyes, I felt like I could be lost in the soft green of them for eons and be happy for each second of that time. That’s not a feeling i’ve ever had before.” I say, he smiles and the way it lights up his entire being is pure magic. I can’t help but smile too. “It’s actually why I wore gold today, I knew I would struggle to say what I wanted to…”

“And you needed the confidence boost?” He finished my exact thought. I nodded and he smiled again. “Me too, I knew I would need it to even manage to say a word to you.” He continued as we started walking again. “I can't help but feel leagues below you.”

The conversation flowed so easily from there, it was one of the easiest conversations I've ever had. We talked about university, our degrees, our families, our childhoods, my dogs, our favorite books, movies, shows, anything and everything. As we approached the entrance again he paused one more time.

“I’d like to have another outing with you soon, and I also want to aopolgize for making you violate protocol in the park the other day.” He says to me, and I have never met someone who means everything so genuinely, who is so kind hearted, and it just feels almost right to be around him.

“I’d like that as well, and as far as the other day is concerned, that is my fault, I know not to engage with the public while undercover like that, I couldn’t stop myself though, because it was you and I wanted to have a conversation with you.” I say back, desperately hoping it’s not too much.

“May I?” he asks and begins to reach for my hand. I gladly let him take it and press his soft lips to it once again. I feel the blush rising in my cheeks, and I smile as he offers me his arm once again. We make our return in silence, just sharing smiles with each other.

Harry and I had about two outings each week for the next couple of months, but he still hadn’t asked for permission to court me. It was beginning to stress me out to the point where my parents took us down to one outing every other week. We would text in between, but I was still terrified that he would never ask me, that he didn’t see in me what I saw in him. The every other week outings turned into two outings over a three month period, the texts had stopped, and I was afraid that I was going to have to accept a courtship out of obligation rather than want. It might sound weird, but after almost seven months of knowing Lord Harry Styles, I was in love with him. I was in love with someone who didn’t even want to court me.

The Styles family joined us for dinner on a Monday night, and I was to tell Harry that a courtship was no longer an option, I was to be courting another Lord within the week. I was at least happy my parents agreed to let me tell him privately with a chaperone just twenty feet away.

When they arrived that night, something felt different between all of them, something had happened to them. I was dressed in a ruby red and gold Qipao with a gold plated ruby and diamond tiara, my hair was pulled back into a woven ponytail style with curls for volume. Harry was in all black except for his shoes which were a camel color, and his long hair was also pulled back. It was the first time I had seen it that way, and it was definitely doing something for me, no matter how much I wished it hadn’t. When he finally removed his sunglasses for dinner, I had initially wondered why he was wearing them in the first place, but I saw firsthand why, when he politely removed them before dinner. His normally bright, soft green eyes were slightly puffy, he had definitely been crying.

Dinner was terribly quiet, no one felt like talking, Harry seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact with me and it felt like everything was seriously ending. I excused myself for a few moments which I used to try and compose myself, what I was about to do was beginning to feel overwhelming and almost painful. As I went to make my return, Harry was already waiting for me in the rose parlor as my family called it. It looked out to the rose garden and the vases were filled with roses of all colors.

“Harry? Did something happen? Your entire family was quiet during dinner, it worries me.” I asked him quietly.

“Yes, I’m not sure how much you actually know, but my parents aren’t actually together. My mum maintained her title when they split just because of how loved she was by the people of Holmeshire, your parents actually had to approve it. I was only seven when they split, and have maintained a relationship with both of them, my mother moreso though. She has had two relationships since, one which none of us speak to anymore, and the other, Robin, he passed from cancer a little over three months ago. It was getting progressively worse and I just knew I needed to be there for my mum, which is why I stopped texting you, and why it was hard to find time to see you. You have to believe me when I say I wanted to see you, Robin was a good man, he made sure I had good values, and taught me that it’s actually ok for a man to cry.” Harry explains to me, I just sit and listen quietly, knowing he just needs to get all of this out. “My mum has been trying to slowly reconnect herself back to my father over the past six weeks and while it is definitely an adjustment for all of us, I want to start doing things for myself again, rather than just doing things for my family, I want to get back to spending more time with you.” He finishes speaking, and the tears I have been trying to force down, overflow.

“Harry, we can’t, my parents are expecting me to start pursuing other potential matches at tomorrow night’s ball. I’m supposed to tell you that,” I cry while trying to explain it all to him. Harry being the gentle and beautiful soul he is, uses his thumbs to wipe away my tears. I take a few deep breaths before continuing, “Harry I’m to tell you that courtship is no longer an option for us, I’m meant to tell you goodbye, and it breaks my heart to say that to you. I… I need to go.” I say and attempt to rush out but Harry stops me with one word, “wait.”

“Y/N it’s not tomorrow yet, let me try one thing.” He says and steps closer to me.

“Harry, we shouldn’t, I can’t, you can’t do anything Harry, our chaperone is right there, just twenty feet away, and my father…”

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything like that, I want to ask for permission to court you in front of everyone, tonight.” He says with a smile.

“I suppose it’s worth a try, I don’t want to say goodbye to you Har.” I say softly.

“Then it’s settled, and we’re doing this now.” He offers me his arm and I take it, hoping it won’t be the last time.

When we get back to the dinner parlor where everyone else is, still sitting in silence. Harry grabs their attention immediately.

“Excuse me your majesties, Princess Y/N has just informed me of everything, and it upsets me greatly, especially because with my family’s recent loss of Robin, I needed to take time to put them first, and put their well being above my own, even though I would have much rather been spending that time with her highness. Which is why since it’s not tomorrow yet, I’d like to ask you for your formal permission to begin a courtship with her highness Princess Y/N.” Harry announces.

“I suppose you are correct Lord Harry, it is not tomorrow yet, and I suppose…” my father begins, turning to look at my mother, who nods at him, before continuing. “I suppose that my wife and I can excuse your recent absence and forgive you for upsetting our daughter.” he wraps up.

“And as long as it’s what the Princess wants…” My mother picks up and looks at me, I nod eagerly, a wide, bright smile returning to my face for the first time in months.

“It is, it’s everything I want.” I say happily.

“Then you have our permission, and our blessing to court Princess Y/N.” My father announces. I’m just so happy that I was wrong about Harry not wanting me, I hug him. He’s surprised at first, but hugs me back almost immediately. It’s the best feeling in the entire world, to be in his strong arms, I'm impossibly happy.

“Okay, that’s long enough.” My mother says as my father wraps an arm around her waist.

“Sorry mother,” I say, breaking apart from Harry. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it though.

The conversation for the night livens up after that. Harry and I are allowed to sit next to each other on one of the couches. We’re holding both of each other’s hands and whispering to each other for the entire rest of the hour. Just before we go our separate ways for the night he whispers the best phrase in the entire world to me.

He simply says, “I love you,” squeezes my hands again, kisses them both, and heads towards the Velychnyy (Majestic) Suite.

Hope you enjoyed!

As a quick reminder as of 1/17/24, I'm still working on this story, I don't want to post any of it until I'm finished writing it (mostly potential format changes) so please be patient with me and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future The Princess's Lover (TPL) posts by commenting below!

-Ava

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