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hayatheauthor · 2 days

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Crafting Sad Scenes: Writing Tears and Emotional Depth

Creating authentic emotions is vital for immersive storytelling, which is why I decided to make this series on how to write different emotions. After exploring rage, it's now time to delve into sadness!

When it comes to portraying sadness, delving into various aspects of your character's behaviour and environment can deepen the emotional impact. Here's a guide on how to evoke sadness in your writing using different elements:

Facial Expressions

Downcast Eyes and Furrowed Brow: Describe how their eyes lower and brows crease, reflecting inner sorrow or distress.

Quivering Lips or Trembling Chin: Note the subtle quivers in their lips or chin, indicating emotional vulnerability or the effort to hold back tears.

Pained or Distant Gaze: Highlight a gaze that's distant, unfocused, or filled with inner turmoil, showing their emotional detachment or deep sadness.

Tear-Streaked or Reddened Eyes: Mention tear tracks or reddened eyes, portraying recent or suppressed crying, enhancing the visual impact of their sadness.

Hollow Cheeks and Sunken Eyes: Describe physical changes like hollow cheeks or sunken eyes, reflecting fatigue, despair, or prolonged emotional distress.

Body Language and Gestures

Slumped Shoulders and Hunched Posture: Show their dejected stance with slumped shoulders and a hunched posture, conveying a sense of heaviness or defeat.

Fidgeting or Clasping Hands: Detail how they fidget nervously or clasp their hands tightly, indicating inner turmoil or a need for comfort.

Absentminded Touching of Face or Hair: Mention absentminded gestures like touching their face or running fingers through their hair, reflecting introspection or sadness.

Slow or Listless Movements: Describe their movements as slow, lethargic, or lacking energy, mirroring their emotional state of sadness.

Avoiding Eye Contact or Retreating: Highlight how they avoid eye contact or retreat from interactions, seeking solitude or trying to mask their emotions.

Dialogue and Inner Monologue

Subdued or Monotone Speech: Show their dialogue as subdued, with a monotone delivery or pauses, conveying emotional restraint or inner pain.

Expressing Regret, Loss, or Longing: Use dialogue to express their regrets, sense of loss, or longing for something or someone, adding depth to their sadness.

Internal Conflicts and Self-Reflection: Delve into their inner monologue, revealing their conflicts, doubts, or self-reflection, showcasing the complexity of their emotional journey.

Using Metaphors or Symbolic Language: Incorporate metaphors or symbolic language in their dialogue or thoughts, enhancing the poetic or introspective nature of their sadness.

Environmental Cues and Setting

Bleak or Desolate Settings: Set scenes in bleak or desolate environments, such as abandoned places or dimly lit spaces, amplifying the sense of isolation or melancholy.

Rainy Weather or Gray Skies: Describe rainy weather, gray skies, or somber atmospheres, mirroring their emotional state and adding a reflective tone to the setting.

Diminished Colors or Lack of Vibrancy: Use descriptions of muted colors or a lack of vibrancy in the surroundings, reflecting the character's subdued mood and emotional depth.

Actions and Reactions

Withdrawing from Interactions: Show them withdrawing from social interactions, seeking solitude, or avoiding activities they once enjoyed, highlighting their emotional withdrawal.

Seeking Comfort Objects or Routines: Describe how they turn to comfort objects or routines, such as listening to music, writing, or engaging in familiar activities, as coping mechanisms.

Emotional Outbursts or Sudden Changes: Portray occasional emotional outbursts, sudden changes in behavior, or moments of vulnerability, revealing layers of their sadness.

Impact on Relationships and Interactions: Explore how their sadness affects their relationships and interactions with others, showcasing the dynamics of empathy, support, or misunderstanding.

Types of Tears and Emotional Triggers

Watery Eyes: These tears often accompany moments of deep emotional pain, such as hearing hurtful words, experiencing profound disappointment, or feeling overwhelmed by sadness. Characters may blink rapidly or struggle to maintain eye contact as tears well up, indicating their struggle to contain their emotions.

Quiet Tears: Quiet tears are silent and discreet, often shed in moments of solitude or introspection. They may occur when a character reflects on past memories, grapples with internal conflicts, or experiences a poignant realization. These tears are a subtle yet powerful expression of inner turmoil.

Full-On Sobs: Full-on sobs involve audible crying, heaving breaths, and visible emotional distress. They typically arise from intense grief, loss, physical pain, or overwhelming stress. Characters may find it challenging to speak coherently or control their emotions during such outbursts, revealing the depth of their emotional turmoil.

Tears of Joy: Tears of joy occur in moments of immense happiness, relief, or heartfelt connection. They often accompany scenes of reunions, achievements, or profound expressions of love and gratitude. These tears symbolize emotional release and the overwhelming experience of positive emotions.

Tears of Empathy: Characters may shed tears of empathy when witnessing others' suffering or hearing poignant stories. These tears reflect their compassion, sensitivity, and ability to deeply connect with the emotions of others, adding layers of empathy to their characterization.

Writing Prompts and Exercises

Write a scene where your character experiences a sudden wave of sadness in a public setting, struggling to conceal their emotions.

Craft a dialogue between two characters, one trying to comfort the other who is deeply saddened by a personal loss or disappointment.

Describe a setting that reflects the mood of sadness, using sensory details to evoke emotions and create atmosphere.

Explore a character's inner monologue as they reflect on past regrets or missed opportunities, expressing their profound sense of sadness.

Create a symbolic object or motif in your story that represents your character's journey through sadness, using it as a recurring theme for emotional depth.

Incorporating these elements can enrich your narrative and evoke powerful emotions in your readers, fostering a deeper connection to your characters and their emotional journeys.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

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rayslittlekitten · 2 years

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Not All Leaves Turn in Autumn

“You Got This” Masterlist

A/N: So this week's @writer-wednesday prompt inspired something. It's been a while since I've visited this universe. This would take place before "Carry Me Home" but a year after Jax and reader charcter breaks up and he's with Tara. I know I still haven't written what happened between them and I've just been filling in different parts of the story in pieces. One day, all the pieces will be there (hopefully!) Also, this isn't beta'd.

Rating: T

Word Count: ~1500

Pairing: Teenager!Jax Teller & Teenager F! Reader/OC; OC (Johnny) x Teenager F! Reader/OC (Opie's sister)

Plot: Things don't turn out as expected when you introduce your new boyfriend to your friends and family.

Contains: marijuana use, kissing, jealousy, assault, cursing, angst

Your junior year just started not too long ago and fall season approached quickly. The weather’s gotten cooler, the leaves are starting to turn and Halloween decorations are everywhere. What you enjoy the most about this season are all the fun activities that come with it: the hayrides, the haunted houses, pumpkin picking and so much more festivities. Aside from the MC being a big contributor, families gather together and people of all ages are just having a good wholesome time. Traditionally it’s been you, Jax, Opie and other friends smoking weed before going into the haunted house getting the crap scared out of yourselves to getting lost in corn mazes.

This year, things are a bit different. Jax and Opie just graduated high school in June and they both have their own girlfriends to take up all their time now. You have your own boyfriend too, but it’s the first time you’re bringing him around your family and friends. The two of you met and hit it off in a math class during a summer school program a few months back and haven’t stopped talking since. He’s a real sweet kid and you’re completely smittened.

You’re nervously waiting by the entrance where a giant scarecrow greets people as they pass through. You glance at your watch and tap your booted toe.

“Is this guy ever gonna show up?” your brother asks.

“He’s only fifteen minutes late! Chill the fuck out,” you shoot back.

“This nerd is probably not even real,” Jax scoffs.

They’ve all heard about this guy but have never seen him.

“Shut up! You’re a nerd!” You shove Jax and he stumbles back a bit, accidentally bumping into Tara.

“Come on, guys! Leave her alone. This is her first boyfriend. Be nice,” Tara jumps in to defend you.

If she only knew.

“Screw this. I’m not waiting around for this imaginary guy. See you guys later,” Jax says, grabbing Tara’s hand before taking off. She throws a small wave to the group while being led away.

Despite Jax falling head over heels for Tara, you can’t really hate her. She’s always been nice to you and to be honest, it’s nice to have another female around, but you’re not sure how she’s stuck around for this long. Miss Community College doesn’t seem quite cut out for the MC life, but she’s committed to Jax and has a tattoo to prove it. You’ve also seen the way Gemma looks at her and talks about her. That’s one big obstacle no amount of tattoos is ever going to be enough to overcome.

“You okay waiting here by yourself?” Opie asks. “Katie wants a candy apple–”

“Don’t put this on me! You’re the one who wants one,” Kate cuts in and playfully slaps his arm.

“It’s fine. Go have fun. I’ll find you guys later,” you reply.

“You sure?” Opie asks again.

“Yes! Just go,” you chuckle and gently shove him.

Opie reaches to ruffle the top of your hair before taking off. You swat his hand away and frantically fix your hair. You had spent a good amount of time this morning on it. After seemingly putting every strand back in place, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You instantly turn around to find your boyfriend flashing a smile at you.

“Johnny! You made it!” you squeal, but realize you sounded a bit too excited so you try to keep your cool.

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. I was helping my mom with the groceries,” Johnny apologizes as he rubs the back of his neck.

“It’s alright.” Your cheeks heat up as you tuck a loose chunk of hair behind your ear. “Anyways, come on. I want you to meet my brother and friends.”

Johnny is well aware of your association with the Sons. There is no hiding it when you live in a small town, but he doesn’t care. In fact, he looks forward to putting a face on some of the names you talk about all the time. With that, you grab his hand and the two of you go on your merry way.

***

It’s been maybe an hour or so since Jax and Tara had left the group and they haven’t circled back with anyone yet. They’ve lost track of time as they’ve been too busy getting lost in the corn maze and stopping every once in a while to makeout and grope each other while sharing a joint. As they try to find their way out, they hear some suspicious noises in the distance.

“Sounds like we’re not the only ones having a good time in here,” Jax whispers and chuckles quietly after taking a hit of the joint in his hand and passing it to Tara.

“All the teenagers are doing it,” she rolls her eyes, taking the joint from him.

As they continue to make their way through the maze, the noises get louder and more lewd, their path forcing them to listen to this hot and heavy private moment.

“No, stop! It tickles!”

Jax’s ears suddenly perk up. He recognizes that voice.

“Just for a little bit?”

“I don’t know.”

“I won’t go all the way in.”

He hears soft moaning and his feet move quicker. His perked up ears are now bright red.

“Where are you going?” Tara asks as she tries to keep up.

When he rounds a corner, he finds you cornered against the tall wall of corn by Johnny with his hand under your skirt. Suddenly, Jax grabs the back of Johnny’s shirt and yanks him off of you. You flinch at the unexpected interruption.

“Jackson!” you shout as you pull your shirt and skirt down to cover yourself and rush over to where Jax flung Johnny on the ground. “Leave Johnny alone! What are you doing?!”

“Oh, so you’re Johnny. You are real. So I hear you’re good with math,” Jax says as he hovers over Johnny. “Maybe you can solve this for me: Johnny has a whole set of white pearly teeth. If I beat his face in with my two fists, how many teeth will Johnny have left?” he threatens.

“Jackson!” You grab onto Jax’s kutte and try to pull him off Johnny.

“The lady said no!” With one hand grasping Johnny’s shirt, Jax’s other ringed fist is cocked back.

“What the hell?” Tara finally catches up and stumbles into the scene.

“Tara! Help me get him off!” You shout.

Tara ditches the joint and rushes over, grabbing Jax’s forearm to prevent him from slamming it into Johnny’s face. Finally with the combination of both of you and Tara, you’re able to drag Jax away. He’s a lot stronger than he appears for someone who looks 150 pounds when wet.

While still on the ground, Johnny scrambles away from Jax.

“Hey, I didn’t mean any harm.” He puts his hands up. “I was being respectful.”

“It sure as fuck didn’t sound like it to me!” Jax lunges at Johnny but you and Tara are holding him back. Johnny flinches and gets up on his feet.

“Johnny’s a nice guy! He wouldn’t force himself on me.” You step in between him and Johnny.

This certainly was not the way you had intended for them to meet, but you’re also not surprised by Jax’s behavior. Despite the fact he's the one who ended what the two of you had, his jealousy disguised as protectiveness ever since then did not go unnoticed by you.

“I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot, but I understand you’re just being protective of her and I appreciate–” Johnny starts off.

“Shut the fuck up! As far as I know, you were being a fucking creep. You don’t get to touch her,” Jax growls as he points his finger at him.

“Fuck off, Jackson! Johnny’s my boyfriend and we can makeout and fuck all we want. We don’t need your permission,” you shoot back, stepping up to him.

“I’m gonna tell Ope,” Jax threatens.

“Go ahead. Just don’t leave out the part where you assaulted Johnny because I was consensually making out with him.” You cross your arms over your chest.

You notice Jax’s jaw ticking and his breathing getting deeper and heavier.

“Are… are you sure you’re okay?” Tara asks you sincerely while trying to focus on you. “Do you want to come with me and Jax?”

“I’m fine! Just leave us alone,” you reply.

“Okay, come on Jax. She said she’s fine.” Tara tugs on his hoodie sleeve. “Let’s try to find our way out. The munchies are kicking in.”

Both you and Jax stare each other down with snarls until finally Jax lets up after Tara gives him another pull.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Johnny. See you around.”

As Jax and Tara start walking away, Jax stares Johnny down. He glances at you for a moment and you see the green in his ice cold blue eyes right before he turns facing front. He shrugs Tara’s hand off his bicep as he continues to walk away.

#charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jax teller #jax teller x female reader #jax teller x fem #jax teller x you #jax teller x reader #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #AU #you got this #writer wednesday

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wildemaven · 1 year

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New Year, New You

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader (established relationship)

Word Count: 1813

Warnings: M 18+; Mentions of food and alcohol; Poor attempt at smut; I changed reader to be read as F (the previous two installments are read as non-descriptive); If I missed anything let me know

A/N: I saw the prompt for this week’s @writer-wednesday and it sparked a little idea. Since New Year’s Eve falls on Saturday this year, this is set in the Weekends with Frankie universe, but can also be read as a stand alone fic. Also, this is my first attempt at writing any sort of smut. Im hoping it is ok for what it is, trying to slowly dip my toes into writing it— you all make it seem so easy! This isn’t beta’s, so all mistakes are my own doing. And I try really hard to not use specific descriptive words for Reader (unless other wise noted; this being a F!Reader), so it’s open to interpretation for anyone reading, but if I missed stepped and did, please let me know so I can fix it. xo

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Your skin tingles, breath slowly returns to a normal rhythm.

Your brain not sure if it’s the effects of the bottle of champagne you indulged in or a post lust haze sweeping through your body.

The bed dips next to you, sheets rustling as a warm body slides up next to your worn out form.

“Looks like we started the New Year off with a bang!” Frankie jokes as he places a soft kiss to your shoulder— always looking for an opportunity break the silence with a ridiculous pun.

“You are the worst!” You say as you turn to face him. He’s pleased with himself, that grin he wears proudly when he’s pulled a genuine laugh from you. Your lips find his instinctively, soft drawn out kisses exchanged as the minutes of the new year tick by. “Happy New Year Babe.” You whisper against his plush lips.

“Happy New Year indeed!” He mumbles as he starts sprinkling kisses down your neck, shifting his body over you now— lifting his head just enough to catch your sleepy gaze. “What’s your wish for the new year Love??” He asks as he makes contact with your still dewy skin, planting peck after peck in a haphazard trail down your body. Each one sending an electric current through your veins, overriding your sleep like state.

The evening began celebrating the ending of a long drawn out year.

Santi hosting a New Year’s gathering of friends at his place— an abundance of food and drinks at your disposal, all of you dressed to the nines.

The music is blaring over the conversation you’re trying to hold with Will’s wife, catching up the recent happenings in their busy lives.

You’re trying your best to to stay present to stay completely present as she shares about her and Will’s recent vacation. But from across the room, your attention is pulled to your husband, dressed in your favorite suit of his that he only wears when the occasion calls for it. He seems to be in a deep discussion with Santi. You can’t help but stare at his serious demeanor— furrowed brow, pursed lips paired with the cute little jaw tick his does when he’s really thinking. He must sense you staring, as his gaze turns towards you and you’re suddenly on the receiving end of his dimpled smile.

You can’t help the warm feeling emanating through you. Your husband still makes you giddy after all these years together. Your eyes still locked as you sip from your champagne flute, he winks and it’s all over— knees beyond weak and ready to give at any moment in the already too high heels you’re wearing.

He checks his watch, you assume to make sure you’ve both spent an adequate amount of time socializing. He glances back up at you, and you already know he’s suggesting it’s time to go with out saying a single word.

You both excuse yourselves from your conversations, drinks abandoned on nearest open surface. You weave through the other party goers to make your way to the front door with one thing and one thing only on your mind— Frankie.

Your adrenaline pumps through you wickedly, arousal tiptoeing its way to the surface sparking want from deep with in.

How every party seems to end this very way isn’t lost on you. You both can’t seem to get enough of each other and you don’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

Frankie all but crashes into once your reached the door. Desire written blatantly all over his face. His hands instinctually grabbing your waist, sequin dress bunching as he pulls you into his lust filled orbit. A man on a quest— his wife in bed, a familiar mission he’s endured many times before.

“Do you think we were spotted?” His asks resting his warm forehead on yours. His eyes dark with a similar need to your own.

“I don’t think so.” Your heart racing as your try to steady yourself against him. “But I grabbed us a few parting gifts,” You say as you lift two chilled bottles of champagne in each hand. “so we better vacate the premise now before he notices they’re gone.”

“You little minx. I didn’t realize my wife had a bad side to her.” His grip on your hips tightening.

“Well, if you play your cards right…” Grabbing onto his jacket so he knows just how serious you are. “I’ll show you more of it before the night ends.” You say as your lips ghost his.

“Fuck! I love you!” He nearly growls into your mouth with a searing kiss delivering a hunger for more. He backs you into the door caging your body with his, his tight pants not doing much to hide his eagerness as he presses into you.

You can’t help the slight whimper that escapes and the slight roll of your equally eager hips. If you both don’t leave now, this will likely end with you both on the receiving end of a Santi Tantrum (it never ends well). “I love you too Francisco. Take me home soldier!”

Breathy soft sighs are all you can manage to produce right now. How does he expect you to hold a coherent discussion when he’s working you up like this. His mouth set out to rediscover every dip and curve, never the same path twice. For every sweet kiss, there’s a gentle nip as he makes way down your torso, his destination already craving his presence.

“This! I wish for more of this!” Stumbles out just as Frankie places a soft kiss to your already sensitive clit. “Fuck!” Your hands clenching the sheets, back arching off the bed, you’re already flying towards your impending orgasm— the third one of the night.

“I think we can make that happen.” He says before continuing his pursuit for your pleasure. Grabbing the tops of your thighs to shift you down closer to him, adding just enough pressure to make your toes curl.

*Ring* *Ring*

Frankie’s phone rings just as your waves just begin to crash. Your eyes flying open in annoyance and the warmth pooling in your belly quickly dissipates as the ringing continues— you already know who it is.

“Santi!” You huff in frustration.

“Babe, can you not say his name while my head is between your legs?!” He states looking up at you in confusion.

“He’s calling! The mother fucker is calling right as I was about to cum!”

*Ring*

Reaching over you grab the phone as it begins to ring for a second time. Santi tantrum has been activated and he will continue to call until someone answers.

You toss the phone down to Frankie who’s still camped out between your legs. He looks up at you apologetically as he answers, he knows he’s going to have to make it up to you.

“Hello?”

“What the fuck Fish?? I’ve been looking for you for the last hour and then I hear from Joelle that she saw the two of you sneaking out!! WITH TWO BOTTLES OF CHAMPAGNE?!”

Even in your state of annoyance, you can’t help but chuckle at his irritation.

“Uhh, well I got hungry so we decided to head home.” Frankie says as straight faced as he can. He’s the worst liar, stammering over his words trying to make his story credible.

You can’t help but smile down at him. His curls tousled but gorgeous and his handsome face covered in a mixture of sweat and you’re arousal. As annoyed as you are, you’re grateful he has friends like Santi who worry about him.

“You got hungry?! I had this fucking thing catered and you were hungry!?”

“What I was hungry for wasn’t on the menu…” You almost lose it at that remark.

“I should have known better than to expect you two to actually stay the entire time. So really I’m not that surprised you both bailed. But you couldn’t even wait until midnight to celebrate with us could you?”

As much as you’d love to listen to Santi carry on with his childlike whining, because you do find it quite hilarious, you have other plans and it doesn’t involve this drawn out interrogation.

You decide to take matters into your own hands. Never one to rock the boat, but there’s a fire in you that’s been stoked and a mighty need for your husband. You sit up and snatch the phone from Frankie. If he can’t put an end to this call, you’re more than happy to.

“Hey Santi!”

“Well if it isn’t the thief of the night!” He grumbles into the phone. Frankie has moved up to rest his forehead on your stomach. He can’t help but snicker as Santi goes on, he’s body nearly shaking from laughter.

“Santi, it was a beautiful party and we had so much fun,” You figured you’d try the sweet approach, kill him with kindness as they say.

“I’m failing to see why you left if you had so much fun.” He cuts you off and now you’re ready for this to be done.

“Oh for Christ sake Santi! I was just about ready to have another mind blowing orgasm courtesy of my sexy husband before you decided you needed to call us at 1 am!” Frankie looks up at you in disbelief. He’s not sure he’s ever heard you be so forward before— he’s into it.

“So, what’s going to happen next is I’m going to hang up on you, Frankie is going to reconvene back where he was so perfectly situated and continue that thing he does with his tongue that makes me…”

“Ok! I got it! Goodbye!” *click*

Satisfied with yourself you toss the phone back onto the nightstand and fall back on to the pillows. You’re not sure where this boldness came from, but you kind of like how it feels.

Frankie snakes his way back up to you, propping himself up on his forearms placed on each side of your adrenaline thrilled form. The grin on his face making you melt slowly in to the bed.

“Where did that come from?” He asked looking down at you with pure excitement.

“I don’t know.” You say as you bite your bottom lip, teetering on the verge of embarrassment. But the way Frankie is looking at you says there’s no reason for anything but to be satisfied with your new found gutsiness.

“This must be the side you said I’d get to see more of tonight.” He said before leaning down to press his plush lips to yours. Neurons already firing at top speed as you smile into the kiss. “I like it! You should bring her around more.” You can’t help but smile into his kiss, Frankie always “Here’s to a New Year and a new you!”

“Happy New Year to me!” You exclaim as Frankie begins his decent to finish what you so desperately wished for.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #weekends with frankie #writer wednesday #wildemaven writes #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales

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flightlessangelwings · 2 years

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Under the Cherry Blossom Trees

Joel Miller x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 1.1k (1485 with optional epilogue)

Warnings: fluff, protective!Joel, established relationship, kissing, sweetness, optional angst epilogue

Notes: My blog remains 18+ only even if this fic isn’t explicit! I loved this writer Wednesday pic so much and the idea just instantly popped in my head! Thanks so much @writer-wednesday @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape for hosting this every week! Hopefully this formats ok since I’m posting from mobile!

I also have an update blog @flightlessangelwings-updates to stay up to date on when I post!

“Joel, where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise, baby,” Joel replied with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you tightened your grip around his waist. The horse the two of you shared walked gently through the quiet forest. Everything seemed at peace here, with no sign of infected for miles. The only sounds in the forest other than the clop of your horse were scattered bird calls and the rustle of the local wildlife.

You let out a short chuckle, “You know Joel, if it were anyone but you I would think I was about to be murdered and dumped out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Joel moved a hand from the reins and gave your wrists a tight squeeze, “You know I ain’t never gonna let anything like that happen, baby.” His tone was too serious for your attempt at a joke.

“I know,” you whispered as you leaned your head against his broad back and savored the warmth of his body, “I was just kidding.”

All Joel offered was a soft grunt and another squeeze before he fell silent again. You decided to keep quiet as well and just enjoyed the feeling of his body against yours and the soft warm wind against your back.

It was a sunny spring day, and as much as you loved living in Jackson, it was nice to be out and get some fresh air. Things almost felt normal like this with you and Joel out on a horseback date in the woods. But Joel always tried to make life seem as normal as he could for you.

Even so, he surprised you this morning when he told you to get ready to go out with him. He tried to hide it, but you saw through Joel’s calm and collected facade and noticed that he seemed nervous and jittery. But when you asked him why he needed you, he refused to answer.

Stranger still, Joel grabbed his guitar on the way out.

“Baby, we’re here.”

Joel’s hushed voice jolted you out of the trance you were in from the warm air and the soothing beat of his heart. You hadn’t even realized you almost dozed off right there on the horse until his voice broke the silence.

Suddenly, a rush of sensation flooded you and you took a deep inhale to smell something you hadn’t smelled in a long time, “Cherry blossoms?”

A soft rumble echoed from Joel’s chest, “Surprise,” he whispered softly.

Before you could restrain yourself, you gasped loudly, “Joel… Holy shit…”

In front of you was a long pathway lined on either side with cherry blossom tree after cherry blossom tree. The pink of the fully bloomed flowers in the sun lit up the forest in a way that completely took your breath away. Puddles from yesterday's light rain reflected the sunlight and made this patch of forest seem brighter than what surrounded it.

Joel turned over his shoulder and took in your reaction. Sure the trees were beautiful, but they didn’t compare to the look in your eyes as your face lit up in awe. He never could get enough of looking at you, and he swore there was never enough time to fully admire and appreciate your features.

He kept the horse still for several moments before he ushered you all towards a tree with a low hanging branch. You barely even noticed the movement.

With a click of his tongue, Joel steadied the horse, swung his leg over and pushed himself off. He quickly tied the reins to the branch before he extended a hand to you and said your name in such a sweet tone, “You coming?”

You shook your head as your eyes landed on Joel, “You bet!”

Joel’s hand felt warm in yours as he helped you down. You kept ahold of him even as you were steady on your feet and you let him guide you down the path. Your trust in Joel compared to nothing else and you followed his lead while you looked around and soaked in your surroundings.

“Wow…” you breathed, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

A warm smile lit up Joel’s face as he looked over at you. His heart skipped a beat in his chest as he studied your every feature as if he was seeing you for the first time. But then again, to Joel, every time he saw your smile felt like the first time all over again.

You felt the weight of Joel’s gaze on you and you froze in place. When you met his eyes and saw the look of pure admiration there, you swallowed hard and suddenly your skin felt like it was on fire, “What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Nothing baby,” Joel murmured as he suddenly felt embarrassed as well, “You just look so damn beautiful in the flowers like this.”

A chuckle escaped your lips before you could help it, “Always the romantic, aren’t you Joel?”

“I do try,” his voice was low as he ushered you ahead of him, “You like it?” Joel used his nose and pointed towards a small setup on the side of the path.

You gasped as you saw the small tent that was set up between two large trees. Inside were some blankets and pillows to make it homey and cozy. And the front was open so you could sit and enjoy the magnificence of the trees and flowers around you.

“I found this place with Tommy yesterday on patrol,” Joel explained as he led you into the tent and sat the both of you down, “I checked for infected, there’s no one for miles. Just you and me. We can finally get some quiet alone time,” he rested an arm around your waist and kissed the side of your face, “How’d I do?”

“Joel… It’s…” you couldn’t even finish your thought before you lunged at him and kissed him deeply.

A low rumble echoed in Joel’s chest as he eagerly kissed you back and held you close. Soft moans filled the tent as you immediately deepened the kiss and showed him just how much you loved his surprise.

“Happy anniversary baby,” he murmured against your lips when you finally broke away for air.

You didn’t even open your eyes as you rested your head on Joel’s shoulder and settled comfortably at his side. You felt him place one last kiss on the top of your head before he pulled out his guitar and played a soft, sweet melody just for you.

At that moment, everything was absolutely perfect under the cherry blossom trees.

Optional epilogue (warnings: tlou2 spoilers, angst, major character death)

The sun shined brightly as you rode your horse through the woods, but it still felt dark to you. Nothing seemed the same anymore, as if all the color in the world drained from your vision. Even the pinks of the cherry blossoms seemed dull in your eyes.

Everything was quiet around you, as if the world stood still for the moment, only to be broken by the sound of the clop of the horse beneath you. It was a strangely familiar feeling, yet it was different.

You rode down the path that Joel had taken you before, only this time it was just you. What was once a happy memory now felt somber as you had never felt more alone.

A sigh escaped your lips as you reached your destination: the tent Joel had set up for you.

You jumped off and tied the horse to a branch before you approached the space. What was once a warm, inviting space now felt cold and distant. Moss covered the blankets that were left behind and it felt like a shadow of what it once was.

But then again, so were you.

As you sat down on the damp ground, you choked back a sob. What should have been a happy day felt heavy on your heart. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out Joel’s old watch and cradled it in your hands before you wrapped yourself around it and finally broke down into tears.

“I miss you so much, Joel,” you cried, “So fucking much.”

Birds fluttered in the trees around you, but you ignored it.

“Dina had the baby recently,” you spoke to the watch, “JJ is what they called him,” you let out a soft exhale, “Yeah, one of those J’s is for you,” you paused as you caught your breath, “Everyone is doing fine. You’d be so proud of Ellie, Joel. I’m watching over her, like I promised I would.”

Your eyes dropped down as you watched your tears hit the ground in front of you, “It’s not the same without you though,” you let out a deep sigh as you brought the watch up to your lips and gave it a gentle kiss, “Happy anniversary Joel.”

226 notes · View notes

skvatnavle · 2 years

Text

Love is Love

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Warnings: pining idiots, yearning, Bob being clueless, Hangman being drunk, kissing, fluff, Hangman being a cocky mofo, SMUT! M/M. Oral (m receiving), anal sex, protected sex (be smart like HangBob).

Notes: Enemies to idiots to lovers, is the best way to describe this. A part of @writer-wednesday week 18, a few days late. Hope y'all had a great pride month 🌈

A huge thanks to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading ❤️

Words: 4K

“Bob, you need to drive Hangman home. He’s wasted.” Rooster says, pointing towards a booth in the corner.

Groaning, Bob looks over at Jake babbling in the corner, laughing at one of his own jokes. Something had been off with him all night. Actually, things had been a little off with him ever since that day they played Dogfight football.

“Why do I have to?”

“Cause you’re the only one who’s sober.”

Bob curses under his breath. The last thing he needs is to get stuck in a car with a drunk Jake. True, he had often imagined what it would be like driving Jake home, but that was under different circumstances. And frankly something that would never happen.

Bob had seen firsthand for weeks how Jake flirted with the ladies, how confident he was around them and how they all practically fell to their knees for him. Even if by any chance he was bi, he would never go for a guy like Bob. Especially with the way he was always teasing him, there was no way in hell Jake harbored anything but friendly feelings for Bob. If even that much.

Walking over to Jake, Rooster offers to help drag him to the car. When Jake sees Bob approaching, he smiles wide, his eyes unfocused.

“Baby on Board! There you are!”

“If you say that one more time, I’m leaving you in the gutter somewhere.”

Jake shuts up, faking pout, before he breaks into a laugh and looks at Rooster with a mischievous grin.

“I think the Missus is mad at me.”

“Fuck, he’s drunk.” Rooster laughs, as he hoists Jake up from his seat. Bob moves to hold under the other arm, blushing slightly when he feels Jake this close. His hand resting on Jake’s back and chest, he can’t help but feeling the heat creep up his cheeks at the toned body underneath his fingertips. The same chiseled body he’s been thinking of ever since that day on the beach.

Jake leans his head on Bob’s shoulder, giving him a soft smile as they drag him past the others. Once they reach the car, Bob takes over and gently helps Jake into the car and fastens his seatbelt. Jake reaches up and softly cups Bob’s cheek, instantly making him blush a heavy red and he prays Rooster doesn’t notice.

“I’ve always liked you, Bob.”

“And here I thought drunk people told the truth. You’re an even worse liar when wasted.” Rooster says with a laugh before he pats Bob on the shoulder and walks away, leaving them to themselves. Even though he knows somewhere deep down that Jake can be good, he can't help but think Rooster's words are true.

Jake had his moments, sure, and they had increased the last week after the game. But he was still cocky and asserted himself whenever he could, often on the expense of others. And it was usually Bob. But something had shifted, caused Jake to act out tonight and Bob can’t shake the feeling that it is because of what happened that day.

When Mav had told them his plan for the day, they had all been skeptical. Dogfight football? How was that going to make them a better team? But within an hour, they had to admit his plan was working. Hell, even Bob felt like a part of the team, where before he sometimes felt a little on the outside of the group. Never been the most rumbustious person, he tended to fade into the background. But that had changed today and now he felt like one of them.

After Mav left, they all stayed and played for a while, but not as serious as before. People were joking around, having fun and all seemed relaxed for the first time since they came back to Top Gun. Tossing the ball around, the ball was passed to Bob and before he could throw it again, Hangman tackled him.

Laughing loudly, they tumbled to the ground, Hangman pinned Bob beneath him. As they laid still, Hangman’s thigh rested between Bob’s, pressed against his crotch. Bob whimpered softly at the contact, a heavy blush creept up his cheeks. Having Hangman this close was something he had thought of many nights, laying alone in his room with his cock in hand. His body instantly reacted, trembled under Hangman’s weight.

Hangman stopped laughing and looked into Bob’s eyes, his lips slowly turned into a smile.

“Are you blushing, Bob?”

“N-no.” he managed to stammer out, before gently pushing at Hangman’s chest. But Bob just looked to his hands as they trembled against Hangman’s warm skin. Fighting the urge to run his fingers down his perfect body, Bob felt himself harden.

Hangman’s smirk grows wider as he pushed his thigh closer to Bob’s hardening length, pulling yet another soft whimper from Bob. He hated how easily he reacted to Hangman’s touch but still, he didn’t want it to end. Wanted to stay here, pinned beneath him, feeling his breath on his. It would be so easy to just lean forward, to press his lips to his.

But before he knew it, Hangman pushed away from Bob with a smirk and took the ball, resuming the game. Phoenix came over to ask if Bob was okay and he did everything he could to hide his boner. Frantically, he looked around, afraid anyone saw them, but only Phoenix seemed to notice. No one was looking.

Except Hangman. Every now and then his eyes would find Bob’s, a soft smirk on his face. The rest of the day he looked at Bob with a knowing smile, like he was taunting him over the secret only they knew.

When Jake has stared out the window for 15 minutes without a word, Bob finally looks towards him, concerned at how different he's acting.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?”

“Drowning my sorrows.”

Bob huffs as he shakes his head. The fact that Jake could feel sorry about anything or have any problems, is a foreign thought to Bob. He seems like the kind of guy that has everything.

“What problems could you possibly have?”

Jake looks up, only to see Bob frowning in disbelief. Laying his head back against the window, looking out at the landscape drifting by.

“Why do you care? You hate me.”

If only he knew just how untrue that was and how much Bob cared. How much he actually liked Jake despite all his flaws. Sure, he was cocky and borderlining on asshole, but since the beach he had seemed… sweeter somehow. Whenever they were alone, he was kind. It was just small things like bringing him water, a snack or asking how his day had been, but it made Bob’s heart soar. It also made him fall for Jake, even though he knew it would end with him having a broken heart.

“I don’t hate you, Hangman.” At that Jake sits up and looks at Bob, disbelief painted on his face. The way the light falls on his face as they drive past a streetlamp, highlighting his beautiful features, makes Bob’s throat go dry and his heart skip a beat. Slowly the corners of his mouth turn up into a faint smile, but his eyes are still full of sorrow.

“There’s this person I like, but I can’t tell him-HER! I meant… Her.”

He laughs it off as a drunk mistake, but if he only knew what his little error did to Bob. For a second, he actually started hoping, but of course not. Putting on his best smile, Bob looks quickly at Jake before returning his gaze to the road.

“Why can’t you tell her? You’re the most confident guy I know.”

“Not this time. This… Is different.”

He is silent for a while, contemplating his words. But he doesn't get to speak, before they arrive at the base. With a little struggle, Hangman frees himself from the seatbelt and staggers towards their living quarters. Bob follows silently behind, a little amused over Jake's wobbly walk as they walk down the hall. As they reach the door to Jake’s room, Bob leaves him there with a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Good night, Hangman. Drink some water."

But as he walks away, Jake grabs his hand, causing Bob to stop dead in his tracks.

"Bob…"

Turning slowly, he looks into Jake's eyes. Those beautiful green eyes that easily takes his breath away every time he looks into them.

“She…” he looks deep into Bob’s eyes, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard “She’s too good for me. So I can’t tell… her.” He runs his fingers through his hair before turning away, looking to the ground. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t?! I look at you every day and-” At that Jake looks up into Bob’s eyes and the look of surprise makes Bob backtrack. “I mean… guys like you… And you’re always so confident and get what you want.”

Jake turns towards Bob, his eyes wide as Bob rambles on like he's the one that's been drinking too much.

“I could never get someone like you. Get to be someone like you, I mean.”

“I thought I was the drunk one?” Jake smirks through half closed eyes. Oh God. Bob is silently praying that Jake wouldn’t remember anything of this in the morning.

"You, ehm… you should get some sleep. See you in the morning"

And with that Bob turns away and walks to his own room quickly without looking back.

The next day he barely sees Jake. Another day full of training, spending all their time up in the air. And what little they have on ground, it seems Jake avoids him. So maybe he did remember what happened last night. Hopefully he would just let it go at some point.

After dinner and a much-needed shower, Bob retires to his room. Some of the others wanted another night at The Hard Deck, but Bob had had his fill of drunk people this weekend, deciding to just relax with a book and head to bed early.

But at midnight he is startled awake by a loud banging at his door. Scared what it could be, he jumps out of bed and open the door quickly, only to find Hangman standing there, gulping down a beer.

"Hangman? What are you doing here?"

When he doesn't answer, Bob lifts Jake’s head to inspect his face, only to find his eyes unfocused and glassy, a sadness etched into his features. He knows Jake can handle himself, but he still can’t help but feel worried.

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe a little."

Sighing, Bob takes a step back and gets ready to close the door. "I think you have a drinking problem."

"No, I have a ‘you’ problem."

He slams his hand against the door, holding it open. His words hurt, more than Bob thought they would, and he tries his best to remain calm and seem unfaced.

“Okay, I know you don’t like me, but to come here and say-”

“Don’t like you? Bob…” he moves closer, his hand coming up to cup Bobs cheek softly, his thumbs caressing the soft skin, that’s slowly turning pink under his touch. “You’re all I can think about.”

Shocked, Bob is afraid he's dreaming. Did… did he just say…?

"But you… How? I thought you didn't like me."

"Why would you think that?”

“All the teasing? Name calling. Never letting me finish one game of pool without taking the cue from-”

Cutting him off with a kiss, Bob freezes as he feels Jakes insistent lips against his. But soon he melts into the softness of his lips, feeling his knees go weak as Jake’s tongue beg for entrance. Jake pulls Bob closer as he deepens the kiss, causing Bob to moan. Afraid someone might hear them, Jake guides Bob inside, his mouth still on his as he closes the door, pushing Bob against the wall. Putting his hand on Jake's chest, Bob gently pushes him away, breaking the kiss.

“I’m still confused. How am I even your type?”

Bob rubs the back of his neck, barely able to look Jake in the eyes as he’s blushing. Jake just moves in closer, his hand resting on Bob’s hips.

“Maybe I like scrawny nerdy dudes with glasses.”

“I’m not scrawny!”

Bob pushes at his chest, making Jake laugh. He doesn’t even budge an inch, just looks Bob deep in the eyes with a huge smile. Jake could really be an ass, but maybe teasing was just one of his ways to show affection.

“Well, I’ve never seen you without clothes, so how would I know?” Jake adds, the tone of his voice unmistakable.

“You… You wanna see me without my clothes…?” Bob asks softly, barely above a whisper. Jake leans in closer and looks into Bob’s eyes with an intensity that makes him shiver.

“There’s nothing I want more.”

Unable to hold back anymore, Bob crashes his lips to Jake’s, pouring weeks of want into it. Bob’s hands claw into Jake’s shirt, his fingers tangled in the thin fabric at his back, his waist, pulling him closer, drawing him in until even their little pocket of space fell away, and it was just them, biting desperate kisses to the other’s lips.

“Fuck, Bob. Your lips are so fucking soft.”

Jake pushes his thigh between Bob’s legs, and the kiss breaks as Bob throws his head back against the wall with a dull thud. The need came on like an explosion, sudden and inevitable, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins only heightened that unbearable heat. Jake nips at the tender flesh on Bob’s neck, pulling sweet whimpers and moans from him.

He hates how whiney he sounds under Jake’s touch, but he can’t hold back the whimpers, when finally, he gets what he wanted for weeks. He can feel Jake smile against his skin, as he places needy kisses along the column of his neck.

“Damn, Bob. Keep making those sweet little noises for me.”

Bob bucks his hips and rubs himself against Jake’s leg with a breathy whine–Jake responds with a guttural growl and sucks kisses to the line of his throat, swipes his tongue along the most sensitive spots.

“Jake, I- please.” he moans, low and quiet, making Jake still and pull away. His eyes are dark with desire and something else, something deeper, more vulnerable.

“Do you want this?” he asks, eyes fixed on Bob and the intensity of his gaze makes Bob’s throat grow tight with tears. He swallows and nods until he trusts his voice enough to answer out loud.

“Yes. God, Jake, I-I want this so bad.”

That was enough. Jake was on him once again, his tongue hot and wet and insistent against his own, unsteady hands fidgeting at the hem of Bob’s t-shirt, only breaking the kiss briefly to pull it over his head, before his trembling hands find their way to the waistband on Bob’s pajama pants, and a desperate moan broke from Bob's throat, immediately swallowed by another kiss from Jake.

Jake suddenly stops, stepping away to look at Bob. Feeling unsure of himself, Bob moves his hands up to cover himself, but Jake stops him. Taking Bob’s hands in his, he kisses his knuckles softly, before looking into his eyes.

“You’re gorgeous, Bob. It’s a good thing you kept your shirt on during the game or I wouldn’t have been able to control myself.”

Giggling softly, Bob blushes to a heavy red. Jake moves closer again, kissing Bob with an unknown hunger. Jake’s hands roam over Bob’s exposed skin, feeling every ridge of his toned chest, a soft ‘fuck’ leaves Jake’s lips as he explores more of Bob’s body.

As Jake runs his hand over Bob’s clothed length, Bob whines desperately, bucking against his hand.

Bob is lost in the wet heat of their mouths against each other, lost in Jake’s greedy hands exploring his body as though their goal was to leave not a single inch of skin untouched, lost in the too much and yet not enough friction of Jakes’s jeans against his hardness.

Jake is still fully clothed. He won’t change that right now. It feels right on some level, to have Bob pinned against the wall, half naked and so vulnerable, with Jake shielding him, put together on the outside as he fell apart and lost control on the inside.

Bob forces his hands to release the fistfuls of fabric he has clung to like a lifeline and brings them up to Jake’s face instead, cupping his cheeks with care, and breaks the kiss. They only separate far enough to look each other in the eyes. Jake panting like he has run a marathon, hot breath puffing against Bob’s kiss-raw lips. Jake smiles as he takes Bob in, flustered with kiss swollen lips.

“Fuck, Bob. You’re so beautiful.”

Bob swallows, and the motion hurts his throat. He rolls his hips against Jake even though the drag of the fabric against his delicate skin borderline hurts, but he just needs him. He needs Jake to feel how much he needs him, and he needs to feel the hard line of Jake's cock pressed against his hip to know he needs him in turn.

Jake’s beautiful eyes grow darker still, green irises almost entirely eclipsed by the black holes of his pupils, and he grinds back into him.

“Take me,” Bob breathes out, and Jake’s tongue darts out to taste his desperate plea. Turning them both around, Jake makes his way over to the bed, their clothes quickly finding its way to the floor. He pushes Bob down onto the soft mattress, before he crawls on top of him, his lips once again claiming Bob’s.

Jake makes his way down Bob’s body, worshipping every inch of him. When he reaches his cock, Bob is painfully hard with a small pearl of precum at the head. Jake looks into his eyes one final time for confirmation. Bob nods and with that, Jake lick the head of his cock, moaning at the taste of him.

“Fuck” he chokes out, eyes closed in pleasure.

Jake licks up the length of him before taking him into his mouth. Jake looks up into Bob’s eyes as he begins moving up and down his shaft. Bob gently places a hand on Jake’s head.

“Oh God!” he groans as Jake suck at his head, his fingers curling in Jake’s hair.

Jake releases him with a soft pop, looking at his blissful face, before flashing him the signature Hangman smirk. “Ready for more?”

Bob nods eagerly, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand to pull out a tube of lube. Jake runs his hands up Bob’s thigh, past his cock and slip it beneath his balls, seeking the entrance. The action makes Bob whimper out desperately. Jake lubes up his fingers and as he returns it to his entrance, Bob lets out a single deep breath, as Jake presses a slick index finger against it.

Bob arched into the touch and keened, both his hands gripping at the sheet and just holds on when the first finger slips past resisting muscle and enters him.

It burns. More than usual, more than it should, but the rest of his body burns for Jake, so he welcomes that ache, that intimate, gentle ache.

Jake waits until his body relaxed around his thick digit, before he pushes the next finger in, and it took a while–almost too long. God, Bob was tight. But in no time the fingers stretching him open meet little enough resistance for Jake to decide Bob is ready and he pulls away.

“No… More, please!” Bob whines, causing Jake to groan. The sight of Bob laying there, face torn in need and pleasure, pleading was almost enough for him to come right then and there.

“You need to tell me what you want.” Jake says softly, already knowing what Bob wants. But he wants to hear it.

“Fuck me… Please…”

Quickly, Jake roams through the pockets of his jeans, pulling out a condom and puts it on. He adds a generous amount of lube. When his eyes meet Bob’s, he has a look of shock on his face, eyeing Jake’s cock.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll go slow. I’ll make you feel good.” Jake laughs softly, reassuring him. Bob nods, licking his lips. Jake shifts slowly, sliding his cock against Bob’s entrance. Jake pushes the head in slowly, but Bob yelps and grabs Jake’s arm. He chokes out his name.

“I know. Fuck, Just- let me…”

Jake slowly pushes all the way in until he is buried to the hilt. Bob is shaking beneath him, and he clings to Jake. Jake keeps still, allowing him to get used to his size. Bob’s eyes are closed in pleasure, the feeling better than anything he’s ever felt before.

Jake exhales against Bob’s ear and kisses his lobe, nosing into Bob’s soft hair and breathed him in like he was a delicate flower, and Bob’s eyes burns like the rest of him did, tears threatening to spill.

“Please. Please, Jake, fuck me-” the rest of his sentence is lost to a sharp thrust of Jake’s hips, and Bob wants to scream but only manages a whine, high and throaty.

It hurts, but fuck, does he want it to. The burn, the stretch, it all meshed with the punishing pace Jake immediately settles into, caught up in his own need, and it is perfect.

Bob head falls back against the mattress with a strangled moan, the vice-grip he had around Jake’s back dragging him along. The angle changes by a fraction, and from one second to the other, Jake was nailing Bob’s prostate dead on with every single thrust; even the vaguest sense of discomfort disappears as stars exploded behind Bob’s tightly screwed shut lids.

The pleasure coursing through his whole form was almost unbearable. His body pulses with pleasure, his desperation only growing, and he yanks Jake in even closer, pulling him to his body until every single one of his senses is overwhelmed with him.

“Talk to me, Bob. Are you good?” he breathes out through ragged breath, lifting his head to look at Bob’s blissed out face. A smile spreads on his face, as his eyes open, blue eyes finding Jake’s green ones.

“I’m very good. Al-almost too good to be true.” Bob says with a grin, shaking his head. Jake laughs softly, before crashing his lips to Bob’s as he thrusts into him harder, pulling a new series of sweet whimpers from Bob.

Jake’s hips snap against Bob’s, making him moan loudly every time Jake thrusts home. Jake feels himself getting closer, his rhythm starts to get uneven. He reaches between the two of them, wrapping his fingers around Bob’s cock.

“Fuck, Jake!”

He throws his head back, tears forming in his eyes. It’s too much, yet he can’t get enough, as Jake works his length in the same rhythm of his thrusts. He shifts, changing the angle just a little, but it’s enough. When Jake thrust into him again, Bob almost stops breathing, his cock twitching in Jake’s hand.

“Oh God… D-do t-that again!” he demands, the words almost incoherent. Jake smiles to himself, as he continues to slam into him. They are both close, so close. Jake can feel it and all it takes is one good push. He presses against his prostate and finally, Bob is coming with a huge moan. His face contorts in pleasure and his whole body stiffens with the intensity of it.

Jake follows shortly after, growling into his neck. He thrust a few more times, riding out his high. When Jake breaks away from his neck, he finds Bob looking at him, a happy and blissful look on his face. Jake can’t help but feel a little cocky and gives Bob another smirk, before kissing him softly.

“Told you I’d make you feel good, baby.”

Bob looks into Jake’s eyes, before pulling him into a soft kiss. The kiss is soft, the intimacy of it almost making Bob cry. Jake is so soft with him, his hands caressing every inch they can reach, and they lay in each other’s arms.

Bob is still afraid of what will happen tomorrow, what will happen with them. But for now, he has placed his heart in Jake’s hands and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Thank you so much for reading <3

Tagging: @loverhymeswith @a-reader-and-a-writer @wildbornsiren @ed-baldwin @chasingdreamer @milestellussy @lucy-sky @sweetfictionalworld @autumnleaves1991-reads @joalsglasses @srry-itshockeyszn @sparrows-corner @multifandom-fangirl4 @lorecraft @ouroborus-momento-mori @lil-medic @paintballkid711 @weasleywinchester @tipsykeen @lluckpng @blindedbyyourgrace17 @levylovegood @andshivroytoo @green-socks @weakling-grace @mayhem24-7forever @happyblogsstuff @nik2blog @serpentssss @reveluving @yespolkadotkitty @beansficreblogs @alltabsclosed @maggiescarborough @writer-wednesday

#robert floyd x jake seresin #bob x hangman #floydsin #writer wednesday #robert bob floyd fanfiction #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #HangBob #lewis pullman fanfiction #glen powell fanfiction

383 notes · View notes

hayatheauthor · 10 months

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The Writer's Guide to Authentic Wounds and Fatalities

Writing fatal injuries in a story requires a delicate balance between realism and narrative impact. The portrayal of these life-altering events can evoke strong emotions in readers and shape the trajectory of your characters' journeys. In this blog, I will explore the intricacies of depicting fatal injuries in a manner that feels authentic, engaging, and respectful to the gravity of such circumstances. By understanding the nuances of fatal injuries, you will be equipped to craft compelling narratives that resonate with your readers.

Writing Fatal Injuries

When it comes to writing fatal injuries, it is crucial to approach the subject with care and accuracy. Fatal injuries carry immense consequences for your characters and can shape the trajectory of your story. By delving into the intricacies of portraying fatal injuries authentically, you can ensure that the gravity and impact of such events are effectively conveyed to your readers.

Choosing the right injuries for your story

Selecting the appropriate fatal injuries for your narrative involves considering various factors. Ask yourself: What purpose does this injury serve within the story? How does it affect the characters and the overall plot? Conduct thorough research to identify injuries that align with your story's context and resonate with the emotional journey of your characters.

For example, in a historical drama, you may research common fatal injuries during a particular era, such as battlefield injuries, diseases, or accidents prevalent at the time. In a crime thriller, you might explore the portrayal of fatal gunshot wounds or traumatic injuries resulting from violent encounters. By aligning the injuries with the context and themes of your story, you create a more immersive and believable experience for your readers.

Researching the mechanics of fatal injuries

To portray fatal injuries convincingly, it is essential to delve into the mechanics behind them. Understand the specific anatomical structures and systems involved, as well as the forces or mechanisms that can lead to fatal outcomes. Explore medical resources, consult experts if possible, and gather insights into the physiological and psychological implications of such injuries.

For instance, if your character suffers a fatal stab wound, research the anatomy involved, the potential organs affected, and the potential consequences such as internal bleeding or organ failure. By understanding the specific details and implications of the injury, you can describe the physical and emotional toll it takes on the character with greater accuracy and depth.

Depicting the immediate aftermath

When writing about fatal injuries, vividly describe the immediate aftermath to capture the intense emotions and physical realities. Consider the sensory details, the shock and disbelief experienced by characters, and the chaotic environment that often surrounds such events. Balancing realism with the needs of your story, create a scene that immerses readers and evokes empathy.

For example, if a character experiences a fatal car accident, you can depict the chaos at the scene, the character's disorientation, and the reactions of witnesses. Emphasize the sensory details such as the sound of screeching tires or the smell of burning rubber, creating a visceral experience for your readers.

Emotional and dramatic impact on the narrative

The impact of fatal injuries extends beyond the immediate moment. Explore the ripple effects on other characters, relationships, and the overall plot. Delve into the emotional responses, grief, guilt, anger, or determination that arises in the aftermath of loss. Utilize these emotional arcs to deepen character development and drive the narrative forward.

For instance, the loss of a loved one due to a fatal illness might lead to grief and strained relationships among the remaining family members. The emotional journey of a character grappling with guilt and seeking redemption after causing a fatal accident can become a central theme in your story. By delving into these emotional arcs and their consequences, you add depth and resonance to your narrative.

Writing Minor Injuries

While fatal injuries may capture our attention with their dramatic impact, it is equally important to pay attention to the portrayal of minor injuries in your writing. Minor injuries, though less severe, can still significantly affect your characters and contribute to the authenticity of your story. In this section, we will explore the art of depicting minor injuries, ensuring that they are not overlooked or trivialized. By delving into the nuances of minor injuries, you can add depth and realism to your characters' experiences.

Types of minor injuries to consider

When crafting your story, it is essential to consider a range of minor injuries that can occur. These injuries can include cuts, bruises, sprains, minor burns, or even minor fractures. Each type of injury carries its own unique characteristics, associated pain levels, and recovery processes. By understanding these distinctions, you can create accurate and believable depictions that resonate with your readers.

For example, a character who sustains a cut on their hand may experience sharp pain, the sight of blood, and the need for immediate first aid. On the other hand, a character with a sprained ankle may struggle with mobility, experience swelling, and require rest and care for a few days. By paying attention to these specific details, you can enhance the realism of your storytelling.

Conveying pain and discomfort

When writing about minor injuries, it is important to effectively convey the pain and discomfort experienced by your characters. Consider describing the sensation of pain, the throbbing or stinging feeling, and how it affects their daily activities or interactions. Showcasing the emotional impact of pain, such as frustration, irritation, or vulnerability, can deepen the readers' connection to the character's experience.

For instance, if a character suffers from a sprained wrist, you can describe the dull ache that persists, making simple tasks like typing or holding objects challenging. By capturing these small but significant moments, you immerse readers in the character's struggle and create a more realistic portrayal.

Balancing realism with narrative pace

While it is important to depict minor injuries realistically, it is also crucial to strike a balance with the overall pace and momentum of your story. Consider the significance of the injury within the larger context of your narrative. Some injuries may require more detailed attention and impact the plot, while others may serve as background elements. Adjust the level of detail and focus accordingly, ensuring that the portrayal of minor injuries aligns with the narrative's flow.

For example, a small cut on a character's finger may not require an extensive description unless it becomes infected or triggers an unexpected consequence. By aligning the portrayal of minor injuries with their narrative relevance, you maintain a consistent pace while still acknowledging their impact on your characters' lives.

Writing Bloodshed And Realistic Blood Loss

When writing about wounds and injuries, it is essential to consider the amount of blood loss your characters may experience. Realistic portrayal of bloodshed can enhance the authenticity of your scenes and immerse readers in the gravity of the situation. In this section, we will explore the factors influencing blood loss and techniques for accurately depicting it in your writing.

Understanding blood loss and its impact on the body

To authentically portray blood loss, it's crucial to have a basic understanding of how the human body responds to injury. Research the circulatory system and the role of blood in transporting oxygen and nutrients throughout the body. Consider the different types of blood vessels and their potential for bleeding when injured. This knowledge will help you create realistic scenarios and determine the appropriate level of blood loss for specific injuries.

Factors influencing blood loss in different injury scenarios

The amount of blood loss can vary depending on the severity and location of the injury. Factors such as the size of blood vessels, the rate of bleeding, and the body's ability to clot play a significant role. For example, a deep laceration in an artery will result in more substantial blood loss compared to a superficial cut on the skin. Consider these factors when describing injuries and their resulting bloodshed.

Techniques for accurately portraying blood loss in writing

There are several techniques you can use to convey the realistic impact of blood loss in your writing. Describing the color, consistency, and flow of blood can provide vivid imagery. You can also include physical symptoms such as dizziness, weakness, or fainting that may accompany significant blood loss. Additionally, consider the emotional response of your characters and how they react to the sight of blood or their own injuries.

By incorporating these techniques, you can create scenes that evoke a visceral response in readers and enhance the authenticity of your writing.

Bruises: Colors, Progression, and Pain

Bruises are a common result of injuries, and understanding how they form, change in color, and cause discomfort can greatly enhance the realism of your writing. By accurately describing bruises, you can bring depth to your characters' injuries and portray their healing process convincingly.

Understanding the stages and colors of bruises

Bruises go through distinct stages of color as they heal. Initially, they may appear red or purple due to the broken blood vessels beneath the skin. Over time, the color changes to blue, green, yellow, and eventually fades to a brown or yellowish hue. Understanding this color progression can help you accurately describe the age of a bruise and the healing process.

For example, a fresh bruise might be vivid purple, indicating recent trauma, while a fading bruise may have a yellowish tinge, suggesting that healing has begun. By incorporating these color details, you can add realism to your characters' injuries and track the passage of time within your narrative.

Depicting the progression of bruises over time

As bruises heal, they often change in appearance and size. Initially, a bruise may be small and localized, but it can gradually spread and become more extensive. Describing this progression can provide a sense of the healing process and the passage of time within your story.

For instance, a character who sustains a significant blow to the face may develop a bruise that starts as a small spot near the eye but expands to cover a larger area over the next few days. By accurately portraying the progression of bruises, you enhance the authenticity of your characters' injuries and their recovery.

Conveying the pain and sensitivity associated with bruises

Bruises can be painful, sensitive to touch, and affect a character's movement and daily activities. Describing the pain and discomfort experienced by your characters can create empathy and immerse readers in their physical ordeals.

Consider conveying the tenderness of a bruise when pressure is applied, the throbbing sensation, or the limitation of movement due to the pain.

Remember The Side Effects

Injuries, whether minor or severe, often come with a range of side effects that can significantly impact your characters' lives. These side effects can extend beyond the physical realm and encompass emotional, psychological, and social aspects.

Physical side effects

Injuries can have profound physical side effects that go beyond the immediate pain and discomfort. Consider the potential consequences such as limited mobility, impaired coordination, chronic pain, or the need for assistive devices like crutches or braces. Describing these physical side effects can add depth to your characters' struggles and provide a realistic portrayal of their healing journey.

For example, a character who sustains a leg injury may experience difficulty walking, require physical therapy, or have long-term complications that affect their day-to-day activities. By addressing these physical side effects, you create a more nuanced depiction of the aftermath of injuries.

Emotional and psychological side effects

Injuries can have a profound emotional and psychological impact on characters. They may experience fear, anxiety, trauma, or a loss of confidence. Consider how the injury affects their self-image, relationships, or mental well-being. Explore the emotional journey your characters undergo as they navigate the aftermath of their injuries.

For instance, a character who survives a near-fatal accident may develop post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and struggle with recurring nightmares or panic attacks. By incorporating these emotional and psychological side effects, you can deepen the complexity of your characters and their responses to traumatic experiences.

Social implications and changes

Injuries can also lead to significant social changes for your characters. They may face challenges in their personal relationships, encounter stigma or discrimination, or experience changes in their roles or identities. Explore how the injury affects their interactions with others and their sense of belonging in the world.

For example, a character who sustains a facial injury may encounter judgment or stares from others, leading to self-consciousness or isolation. By addressing the social implications and changes resulting from injuries, you can create multi-dimensional characters and explore the impact of their injuries on their social dynamics.

By incorporating these various side effects into your writing, you bring depth and authenticity to your characters' experiences and showcase the wide-ranging impact of injuries.

Conclusion

Writing authentic wounds and fatalities requires attention to detail and a deep understanding of the physical, emotional, and psychological aspects involved. By following the guidelines and exploring the subheadings discussed in this guide, you can create compelling and realistic portrayals of injuries in your writing.

Remember to conduct thorough research on the specific injuries you want to depict, understanding their mechanics, symptoms, and potential outcomes. Consider the immediate and long-term effects on your characters, both physically and emotionally. Incorporate sensory details to immerse readers in the experience, describing the pain, bloodshed, colors of bruises, and the progression of healing.

Additionally, don't forget to address the side effects that injuries can have on your characters' lives. Explore the physical limitations, emotional struggles, and social implications that arise from their injuries. By delving into these aspects, you can create well-rounded characters and compelling narratives that resonate with readers.

I hope this blog on forging epic battles will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.

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carni-val · 2 years

Text

The Light At the End of the Hallway [Jax Teller]

pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader [from Pomegranate Seeds]

summary: When the events of that fateful night caught up to the two of them, Jax did what he was always taught to do.

warnings: Slight angst, spoilers for Pomegranate Seeds

author's notes: Hey y'all, so I've been thinking about writing this for some time now but after seeing this photo prompt from @writer-wednesday, I was inspired to write it. I guess you can consider this an AU of some sorts? But this does follow my Pomegranate Seeds fic, so if you haven't read that, I suggest doing so before reading this! I hope you all enjoy it and thank you so much for reading.

Charlie Hunnam Masterlist | Jax Teller Masterlist | Pomegranate Seeds Masterlist

A whirring buzz sounded, breaking Jax from his thoughts. He put the book he was reading flat down against his chest and craned his neck to look over at the correctional officer staring at him through the bars of the jail cell he now inhabited.

As the cell door slid to the side, Jax sat up in bed, guard raised high in the face of authority.

“You got a visitor,” the CO informed him, moving to the side of the opening to allow him to walk through.

Jax huffed out a sigh, his head bowing as he debated declining the offer. The idea sent a deep pain coursing through his chest. His heart could never deny her.

Jax nodded once as he stood up and made his way out of the cell. In the hallway, his eyes caught sight of the caged light hanging just outside his cell. It beamed brightly today; the previous bulb dying out yesterday and this one was dying to escape the confines it now found itself in. It made the worn out bars that made up the door to his own cage look all the more grimy. The slim slice of cushion was a poor excuse for a mattress, but at least the pillow was firm. At least it was him instead of her.

“Let’s go,” the CO prompted once Jax’s hands were cuffed in front of him.

He kept his face stoic, showing no sign of emotion because they were all so jumbled together inside him that he didn’t know which one to feel first: pain that would inevitably force itself into the light sooner or later; tranquility at the thought of seeing her face; or frustration that she just didn’t listen.

Jax only nodded to a few familiar faces he’d befriended whilst here; some who were friends on the outside, and others who provided protection, goods, and services. They made things a little more bearable in here.

He walked through the bleak hallways with the CO following closely beside him. He was used to having people by his side; whether it was the Sons or her, but the jingling of keys on this guy’s hip and the look of disdain permanently etched into his features made Jax’s lip curl in annoyance.

There was a window on the door leading into the visitor’s room. Just one last barrier to walk through until he was in her vicinity again. The door opened and Jax stepped in, eyes locked on her the entire time. Every time he spotted her in a crowded room, he became more and more convinced that the skill was innate. He blocked out all the other men wearing orange pants and white t-shirts; they were all preoccupied with their own loved ones anyways; with returning to the humanity that had been stripped from them the moment they walked into their cells.

She was smack dab in the middle of the room, keeping her eyes down at her folded hands as she waited impatiently, her leg bouncing underneath the table. He’d only gotten a few steps closer until her eyes latched onto his like a magnet.

He tried to keep his face as stoic and natural as he could, to show her that she didn’t need to come and see him every chance she got, but his heart stopped beating for a moment as he took in the weight of her stare; it blanketed over him the way she sometimes would when they would lie in bed together.

When she stood up and pulled him into a tight hug after his cuffs were undone, the smell of her perfume made him dizzy and he found himself clutching onto the very thing that made him feel something anymore.

He missed this: feeling something. But feeling something in here was dangerous and seeing her out in the open like this instead of in private made his stomach clench uncomfortably. He didn’t want all of these eyes on her.

They sat across from one another at the table and it had only been a week but he swore she was even prettier than before.

He felt her cool wedding band against his hand and he felt his lip curling again at the rules that prohibited him from wearing his matching one. Something he’d dreamed of showing off all his life taken away from him in the blink of an eye. But still, he was glad it was him.

“I told you, you can’t show up like this,” Jax tried to keep his tone firm but with her gaze watching his every move, taking it all in and storing it in her mind the way he was doing with her, melted his steely resolve into a puddle of silver.

“I know,” her voice was shaky. She was still trying to deal with all of this, despite the two months that seemed to fly by; two months that barely made a dent into his prison sentence. “I just had to see you.”

Her hands were shaking and he clutched them tighter in his. She’d been having a hard time with all of this — so was he, but he was just better at hiding it.

He hoped she didn’t see the new scars on his knuckles that were forming. He’d gotten into his fair share of fights here; some that were provoked by outside forces, but all of them an outlet for the molotov cocktail of emotions that had been brewing inside of him.

“That’s why you tell me on the phone and I set up a private meeting for us.”

She let out a shaky sigh, her head bowing as she tried to compose herself again. He could feel tears prickling the back of his eyes but he swallowed back the lump in his throat and clutched her hands tighter. This is why they needed a private room.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His heart pinched in guilt and he let his lips latch onto her delicate hands, relishing in the metal of her rings against his warm flesh. He pulled away before he could give the officers something else to bark at him about.

Jax ducked his head, eyes meeting in the short distance. “I’m happy to see you,” he promised as he let her hands go. “I just don’t want all of these guys seeing you and knowing who you are. I don’t want the club getting caught up in any of this again.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and straightened up in her seat, feigning bravery. “You’re right,” she agreed, knowing first hand just how hard he worked to follow through on his father’s wishes for the club.

The Sons had just gotten themselves clean of all the mud Clay dragged them through and he wasn’t gonna let all of that hard work go to waste.

Jax longed to reach out and caress her cheek; to feel the warm, supple skin beneath his tired hands. To run his thumb under her puffy, red eyes and soothe the weight there, to take it on and shoulder it.

He listened intently to everything she had to tell him about the outside, though there wasn’t much new information. They spoke on the phone as much as they possibly could, Jax even getting a hold of a cell phone he kept strategically hidden in his cell where he’d text her late at night, reminding her of his love for her. Cryptically reminding her that he didn’t regret how any of this played out.

She had a tendency to overthink in the middle of the night and he wanted to soothe her the best way he could. It served as a comfort to him too; a distraction from the screaming matches that took place in the middle of the night for whatever reason, his cellmate’s chainsaw-like snore, and the lack of her warmth next to him in bed.

She was falling apart at the seams, but she’d pick herself up again. She had the club to help her with anything she needed and Abel to take care of. He’d be the same if the roles were reversed, maybe more so than her, but he’d been here before. She never had.

A few years after that night at The Charming Florist, the woman that Hale had arrested was released from prison with a clear bill of physical and mental health, and she didn’t waste any time filing a police report on her missing boyfriend. When the cops started sniffing around about that night, they tried to reassure themselves that Hale had nothing — it happened so many years ago — but as the investigation went on, they had to come up with a plan. There was no question in Jax’s mind about what he had to do. It was what JT taught him to do for his Old Lady and what Elijah expected of him; a silent promise he’d made to his deceased father-in-law.

He didn’t regret it.

They were just starting to forget about everything, and Jax had even gotten a laugh or two out of her, but the CO’s bellowing voice announcing that their time was up shot the mood straight into the dirt again.

Heavy hearts weighed in their chests as they stood up and embraced one another again. She clutched onto the white t-shirt he was wearing and his arms latched around her like a vice.

“Next time, call first,” he said lowly to her.

She nodded and he felt her tears staining his neck. He brought his hand to the back of her head, clutching it as he whispered promises to her that everything would be okay. Lowen was working on all of it right now; his sentence could still be reduced, they just had to figure out how. The story Jax spun to the cops was a good one and made him solely responsible for the murder that took place. He just hoped it wasn’t too good and afforded him some kind of leeway into a shorter sentence.

Hale had a hand to play in it, no doubt, but he wasn’t buying it entirely. Jax could see it in the way he looked at him during the interrogation. It was a hard sell, but he knew Hale loved her almost unconditionally, so when Jax played into that, Hale eventually turned the other cheek.

Jax pressed a kiss to her lips, savouring the feeling of her kissing him back and her hands resting on his waist while his fingers entangled in her hair. He missed her delicate touch; often finding his mind fleeting back to their most recent conjugal visit and relishing in the way her fingertips danced over his torso and how soft her hair felt against his arm as it was curled under her to hold her close to him. How the end of her nose bumped against his as they lay facing one another; the distance between them nearly non-existent so all they could see was each other and it almost felt like they were back home again; like what happened at the shop stayed between them, like Jax didn’t take the fall for her, like they were together at home and happy, just like they’d always dreamed of being.

At the bark of an officer, Jax let his lips pull away from hers, keeping her close enough to finally tell her what he needed to say — what she needed to hear — clearly and earnestly, “I don’t regret it.”

He released her before the COs could come pry him off of her. He didn’t want them anywhere near her, so he held out his hands willingly, paying attention to the cool metal against his hot skin to try and steel himself from the sound of her gasps as she cried even harder. He swallowed the lump in his throat but his eyes watered nonetheless.

Jax bowed his head and followed the CO’s lead back to his cell.

The light perched outside of his cell was still as bright as ever and Jax found himself focusing in on it again. Its rays of light extended beyond its cage, beaming out optimistically, and the bulb itself seemed like it would break the shackles around it any second now.

Relief flooded his wrists once the handcuffs were off.

Once he was back in his cell, Jax kept his eyes on the light, the bars of his cell door obscuring his view momentarily before the CO walked away.

A smile began to tug on Jax’s pink lips before he made his way to his bed and lay down, picking up his book and settling into place on his mattress. He took one last glimpse at the light before finding his place amongst the words on the page again, smiling, because he knew Lowen would help him find a way; because he would be okay for as long as he needed to be in here; because it was him instead of her; and because he kept his Old Lady safe and out of trouble.

#jax teller #jax teller imagine #Charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #writer wednesday

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safarigirlsp · 2 years

Text

The Beast

Vampire Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: None! Shocking! Some light horror and sexy themes.

AO3 Link

For Halloween, please enjoy this wicked fairytale for Transfusion Tuesday and also writer wednesday based a request from this Edgar Allen Poe prompt list. Notes of Beauty and the Beast, Dracula, and The Raven in my best Poe-ish attempt 🍂🍁🍂

This also continues my Wicked Fairytale Series where I give my own twisted twist to the classics, like Cinderella , A Midsummer Night’s Dream and A Christmas Carol.

For as long as anyone could remember, the castle had loomed from its cliffside perch above the sleepy little town far below. Like a raven, always watching, always waiting, for its prey to wander close enough to be ensnared in its shadows that stretched forth like grasping talons when twilight grew dim. Every night, when the mists swirled like waltzing specters and the chill settled like death’s hand upon the stricken, mothers would tell their children the tale of the Beast that had always lived in the castle.

With windows like nefarious eyes, peaked rooftops like arched eyebrows, spires rising like devilish horns into the sky, and the spiked iron teeth of the courtyard gates, the castle was a being itself. A monstrosity more imposing than any gargoyle watching over a churchyard. If the Beast didn’t ravage any hapless passersby, the castle itself looked eager to devour them whole.

For as long as fairytales had roots, the quiet little village had by horror been haunted. The frigid darkness that swirled through the streets like a wayward horseman’s spirit, lost and forsaken, was as warm as the kiss of a summer breeze compared to the icy black terror the Beast wrought upon those foolish enough to venture forth in the witching hour.

Far wiser than their human masters, animals would never dare encroach upon the accursed castle. Venture too far into the castle woods and horses would buck and bolt and hounds would whine and turn tail. Deer and fox and cheerfully colored songbirds knew they were unwelcome inside the black woods, among the dead trees with branches like demons’ claws, twisting up from Hell. Only the other creatures of darkness and malice, wolves and ravens, kept company with the Beast in his woods and his lair of stone. Man alone, with his mind for reason and penchant for fumbling upon the worst conclusion, hazarded to trespass upon the castle and meet his death at the gruesome hands of the Beast within.

Or so it had always been said. For no man who had made the perilous journey into the darkness of the castle’s shadow had ever returned.

From the topmost window in the highest tower, the Beast watched the foolish mortals go about their trivial fleeting lives below him, nothing more than ants crawling before a god. The Beast watched with loathing untold and seething unmeasured at the trivial humans who lived their fleeting lives with a carefree happiness he would never know. A silent snarl curled his lips at the sight and his tongue would absently trace over the tips of his fangs, thinking, as he often did, of the sweet taste of blood when they tore through frail flesh.

The tower spire was a freedom for the Beast, a reminder of the benefit of the bargain he had made centuries before. A deal sealed in those ages deemed dark -- dark and befitting of the curse that had stricken the Beast. Down leagues of staircases that seemed to spiral down to the bowels of the underworld, past long hallways winding lonely through bleak walls and past portraits of the long-dead and forgotten, deep in the cold earthen sepulcher in the castle dungeons lay an ancient coffin, undisturbed but never at rest. Inscribed upon the coffin and tarnished by the passage of centuries was its intended occupant’s name and title. Sir Kylo Ren.

Far longer ago than anyone in the inconsequential little town remembered, a knight protected the land and the woods and the cliffs. The Black Knight built a castle on the highest mountain, a fortress of stone to keep the woman he loved safe within its walls. The Black Knight was as beloved by his vassals as he was feared by his enemies, for he protected his own with a fist gloved in steel armor as black as his rage. But memories are as short as the frivolous lives of the townspeople and now no one remembered the Black Knight and his valor. But all the townspeople remember the creature he became. The Beast.

Not even the mighty power of the Black Knight, his strength beyond all other men, could save his woman when the plague settled its pox over the land. She was swept away from him on a green tide of pestilence to a place he could never follow, for surely a man as fearsome as himself could never trail an angel’s wings through Heaven’s Gates. The winter that blew in after her death never again lifted from the knight’s castle grounds nor the gloom from his heart.

Offering solace to the distraught shell of a man the Black Knight had become, a witch emerged from the shadows. Never before nor since was the treacherous creature seen, save only that one harsh winter night when Sir Kylo Ren had naught for company but his thoughts that churned blacker than cauldron pitch and more poisonous than Cleopatra’s adder. Like a raft to a drowning man, the witch offered the Black Knight that which he wanted most in the Hell his world had become. To know happiness again. To feel warmth and pleasure. For his true love to be returned to him.

A deal was struck, unholy and perfidious, back in that forgotten age of knights and witchcraft. The bargain was not to be for the Black Knight, for bargains offer a benefit. It was a trick as vile and malicious as the fumes of the underworld. Wearing the tempting veil of a bargain, it was a curse wrought upon the Black Knight. And from the curse, from the coffin of the noble knight, a creature of the night emerged. More monstrous than a vampire, Sir Kylo Ren was transformed into an unholy beast.

A curse lifted by a lover’s kiss or a moment of understanding was too simple, for love can bloom in an instant in the darkest hours of the night and flutter away with the rising sun. Sir Kylo knew well how to elicit lust and desire, how to arouse the flames of passion and ecstasy that would quickly flare into a wildfire of love. The Beast’s curse could only be undone by the rarest of women; the woman who could look upon him, see the ferocious beast he was, and show no fear. It was one thing to love a monster, as some women did with their own vile husbands, but yet another to show no fear in the face of monstrosity. The boldest knights looked upon the Beast with fear hammering in their chest so fast that Sir Kylo could dance to the beat. What woman could show bravery and valor where even the finest knights could not? None who had the misfortune of crossing paths with the Beast in the long centuries since the curse was levied upon him.

A curse that only affected the accursed was too benevolent, for there must be consequences to those who would be so tenacious as to attempt to cure the Beast. The witch was cunning and her curse had teeth as sharp as the wolves of the forest. Sir Kylo would not have been known for centuries as the Beast without good cause, without earning that loathsome moniker. Fear was his most morbid aphrodisiac, the spiced scent of terror sent the Beast into a frothing bloodlust. And what remained of the man Kylo had been was lost in the turbulence of mayhem and drowned in the blood that flowed in torrents when the beast was summoned forth to bring the wrath of Hell down upon the fearful and unworthy.

Gentle and loving women, wanton and deceptive women, those pure of heart and those of unadulterated sinfulness alike, all met with equal savagery when their fear bloomed beneath their skin, coursed through their veins like the finest wine. At the faintest hint of fear, the Beast consumed what remained of the man and tore the women apart with razored fangs and supernatural strength. The body of a healthy young woman contains scantly little blood, barely enough for an aperitif, and would only whet the Beast’s appetite. Those were the nights, those nights the Beast hoped beyond hope that he had finally found a woman with the heart of a lion, when blood covered the streets of the town the next day and loved ones tried to piece missing relatives together from the limbs that had been torn off and scattered away from their bodies.

When the Beast tasted the blood of the fearful, he raged. Until the Eastern sky glowed as red as the blood on his lips, threatening him with the dreadful sunrise, he raged. And so, the Beast cloistered himself inside his castle, imprisoned himself in a fortress of his own doing. Venturing no longer from the walls of his castle and the prison of his curse, Sir Kylo waited for a death that would never come. Or so he tried. Some nights the hunger, the longing, to be free of his curse was stronger than his will.

On those nights, he would let others bleed for him. On those nights, he would watch the life drain away from a frightened woman as she found the sweet embrace of death for which he so longed. On those nights, he knew that his soul had deserted him some forgotten time centuries ago, and the terrible parts of him that remained would never again be lifted from darkness.

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For as long as you could remember, you had heard the legend of the Beast that lurked inside the castle on the cliffs. Fairytales for children, you reasoned every time you rode through the forest while the black bramble clawed at you as if to keep you trapped inside forever. Sometimes, it felt as though something more watched you than the vacant lonesome windows. But the windows were always black as arched abysses, no candle ever flickered inside the castle, no sound ever echoed through its cavernous halls. No living soul could endure in that perpetual darkness, as bleak as the harshest winter chill, devoid of light and cheer. No Beast lurked in the castle. Ghosts perhaps, lonely specters of those long-dead, but nothing with a heart that still beats.

For as long as you could remember, you had believed that.

The woods were gloaming, desolate, and dense, as you rode home from far away. Nevermore, your horse and most trusted friend, was as black as a raven in a midnight graveyard. Boldy, you rode him through the woods into which no man would venture during the hours no good woman should be awake. Howls from wolves and hoots from owls kept you company along with the nervous snorts of your horse, but there was no faster way home. There may have been tales of terror about the Beast, but even the most skittish person knew that wolves would never attack a mounted rider. Not even in the cursed depths of the black forest.

Spires, silhouetted against the stars and blacker than the midnight sky, captivated your attention when it should have been elsewhere. The frightened whiny and startled rearing of your horse altered you to the danger you had ridden into. A pack of yellow eyes and white teeth leered at you from the trees on all sides, and excited yips and growls greeted you as the wolves moved in for their kill. Nevermore bolted, you didn’t try to slow him. You could stay with your horse through rearing and bucking and running at breakneck speed through the roughest terrain. But even you were no match for the tree branch as thick as your waist that knocked you out of the saddle as your horse ran under it.

Breath refused to refill your lungs when you hit the cold hard ground. The world spun and bells tolled in your ears as you watched Nevermore gallop away, his black coat vanishing into the black woods like ink into oil. You felt the pack lunge for you even before you heard the rush of bodies running at you on padded feet, and you grabbed for the knife in your boot. Its blade would be little defense against an entire pack of wolves, but it was only your breath that had left you, not your fighting spirit.

Even as you drew your blade, a shadow blacker than the foulest witch descended upon you. Like a widow’s veil, the black cloak of your savior floated over you as the towering man who wore it charged between you and the ravening wolves. Growling more savagely than the animals, the man clad all in black hunched his broad shoulders as the wolves attacked. Faster than your eyes could follow, almost as though his enormous physique had blurred into smoke, the man tore the wolves apart like a lion tearing through lambs. When the ground was littered with grey furry carcasses, the man rolled his shoulders before turning to you.

A black scarf covered the lower half of the man’s face and a long veil of sable hair fell in chaos around his shoulders. His eyes were just as lupine as the wolves had been, gleaming gold in the pale moonlight and fixed upon you. Sweeping his cloak aside, he offered you his massive gloved hand and pulled you gently to your feet. He snugged the scarf more securely over his prominent nose before moving close enough to you to assure that you had no grievous injuries.

“Terrors fill these woods in the dead of night,” he told you in a voice that had the power to hypnotize you if you let him. “A beautiful woman should know better than to venture out alone.”

“I’m no longer alone.” You smiled and for reasons unknown to you, the man flinched at your smile as shocked as if you had struck him across the face.

“No, and your peril is now far greater for my company.” Smoothing his hand over his hair, the man looked up at the moon and shook his head almost morosely. “You cannot travel through this forest on foot and alone at night.” He again extended his hand to you. “Join me. Be my guest for the evening, but you must leave at daybreak.”

“Where will you host me?” You looked around the desolation of the forest to make your point. “There is nothing in these woods.”

“My home, naturally.” His eyes crinkled with a smirk that was concealed by his scarf as he gestured toward the dark towers in the distance.

“Ah, so you’re the infamous Beast who lives in the castle?” you teased pleasantly, but the man did not smile. Rather, his eyes grew serious at your words.

“I am Kylo Ren.” He squeezed your hand reassuringly. “I am the Beast.” His eyes burned into yours, the color of firelight. “And you must not fear me. Never fear me.”

“You’ll find I don’t frighten easily,” you assured him after you gave him your name, and then added playfully, “And you, Kylo Ren, are ill-suited to doing so.”

For the darkness and the scarf that veiled the lower half of his face, you couldn’t be sure, but you thought you saw him smile.

*******************************************************************************************

Wrapped snuggly around his face, the scarf Kylo wore was the only preventive measure he could take to avoid the scent of delicious, maddening fear. Only that length of worn black wool stood between you and a death more vicious than that wolves would have given you, should he smell a hint of fear on your breath. Kylo’s senses were heightened. He saw in the darkness with mosaic vibrance, he heard the whispers of spiders spinning their webs high in his rafters, he could scent the sweet perfume of fresh blood on the breeze from the village miles below when an animal was butchered. The scarf did little to inhibit him but still, he smelled no fear. The scent of horse and of the ocean from which you had traveled lingered on your clothes and the clean floral scent of your hair delighted his senses while the honeyed scent of your skin filled his mind with possibility. He smelled enough to see the steps of your long journey into his forest, but he did not scent fear. And his heart jumped at that epiphany.

The darkened woods put fright into the bones of brave men, but you walked beside the Beast with confident ease. Even through the gates to his courtyard, gaping like the open mouth of leviathan with sharp iron spikes for teeth, and through his once beautiful garden that was now naught but dead bramble and roseless bushes of black thorns, you were not hampered by fear. As Kylo approached the arched double doors of his castle, they opened for their master and his guest, though no servants remained inside.

Torches in sconces and candles in gilded candelabras bloomed to life just ahead of you as you followed the towering man through his labyrinthian hallways. Your footsteps echoed off the stone floors while his remained deathly silent. Whether after centuries of living with the castle alone for company the stone had absorbed his own life force and knew his whims, or the ghosts who lingered and suffered within had deigned to do his bidding, Kylo never knew nor cared to question. The eyes of the dead watched from their portraits and tapestries. Perhaps it was not an illusion when those woven and painted eyes followed the movements of the living, curious to see the new guest their master had brought into the castle and fascinated to watch the horrific death that was surely soon to meet with the beautiful woman. Still, Kylo smelled no fear nor felt the prickle of trepidation on the air.

“You must be famished,” Kylo told you as he escorted you into a grand dining hall that erupted in golden light upon your entry. The sprawling table was long enough to host a battalion and slathered with enough food and wine to overfeed every vacant seat.

“Expecting guests?” You raised an eyebrow at the opulence before you.

“Only you,” he said as he pulled out a chair for you at one end of the table.

The aromas that filled the dining hall, scents of fresh meats and sauces, cheeses and sweets, and blood red wine, emboldened Kylo to remove his scarf as he took his seat at the opposite end of the long table. With the length of the table and the cornucopia of scents between you, he felt assured he could maintain his composure. Temporarily.

It was on instinct that he inhaled deeply, as he often did before meals. He smelled the full bouquet of you then, and it was not fear but excitement and arousal that perfumed you, so tempting as to threaten to send him into a frenzy. When you smiled beautifully at him as you sipped your wine, that boldness beguiled his grim scowl into smiling.

It was as if he had gifted you something precious with his smile, one that intuition told you had not been used in untold years. With his scarf removed, you could look upon the features of the Beast who struck fear into the hearts of men. He was dangerous, to be sure, but that quality added to his dark and devilish handsomeness. From his long glossy hair to his well-groomed Van Dyke, he was as sleek and dark as a panther. Even the harrowing scar that traced a painful pink welt down his right cheek added to his dashing. Only his smile revealed the outward indicia of his curse, the viciously pointed fangs of a vampire. One of those fangs drew over his plush lower lip as he admired your exquisite beauty and his eyes gleamed with golden light that danced with the flicker of candles.

“This is excessive.” You smiled as you speared a perfectly juicy filet with your fork and teased, “So much indulgence is practically sinful.”

“Vices are much more interesting than virtues, darling.” He inclined his head as he savored a piece of meat so rare as to be nearly bleeding raw. “Virtues bore me so.”

“Molière would agree with you,” you replied with a smirk, citing the source of his witticism.

“Smart woman.” He allowed admiration to wash over his features before quoting Moliere again, this time knowing you would catch the reference, “Beauty without intelligence is like a hook without bait.”

“So, you think you’ve caught me?” you retorted. “Lured me in with food and decadence?”

“No, lovely girl, it is you who has captured my attention and admiration.” He leaned toward you, resting his arms on the table. “I have taken your baited hook and swallowed it whole.”

“It does you a disservice that it is not part of the Beast’s legends what a seductive host he is,” you said coyly as you sipped your wine.

“Dinners and seductions often go well for myself and my guests.” Mirroring you, he took a drink of wine, leaving a berry stain on his lips. “It is what comes next that makes me a monster. It is after the seduction is over and minds are sobered when tragedy befalls my guests.”

“Do you think such a tragedy will befall me while in your care?” Your words were meant as an invitation, one he knew well.

“I will not allow it.” Kylo breathed deep, still scenting no fear in the air, only your uniquely erotic perfume. Nevertheless, he declined your offer for wont of trusting himself and a darkness passed behind his eyes. “But you must keep your distance from me. Do not let appearances deceive you or wine imbue you, I am every bit the monster of legend. I am the Beast.”

“You’ll find those bestial qualities of yours don’t frighten me.” You leaned forward, accepting his challenge. “They excite me.” You made a point of letting your eyes trail down his body, openly evaluating him. “You do not strike me as a monster, only a man who needs a woman’s touch.”

“You are tired and weary.” He pushed to his feet, dismissing you, forcing down the pained grimace that threatened to twist his lips. “I shall have a horse waiting for you in the morning. You will not see me again.”

“I cannot simply ride away on one of your horses and never see you again. That’s absurd,” you huffed, indignant from his rebuff. “I must at least return your horse and repay you.”

“Your pleasant company is compensation enough.” He raised his large hand in protest against further argument. “That a beautiful woman with wit and grace would stumble into the bleakness of my life for a night is more than I could have hoped for. You have brought an evening of sunlight to a man who has not seen such warmth in longer than I can recall.” He walked to you, tall and proud, and took your hand to lift you from your seat. “No, accept my kindness, for I am thankful for you to know only kindness from me. Remember me fondly. But never return.”

Inside his glimmering eyes, you saw restraint behind the passion, as if he were holding a part of himself prisoner. His hand was strong and warm, seeming to offer you all the safety in the world so long as you held it. Leading you from the dining room, he took you through his castle, up spirals of staircases, to show you to your room. Your bedchamber for the night was even more luxuriant than the bountiful dinner.

Longing demanded you pull him close, but you refrained. The turn to advance was now his. But he only lifted your hand and placed a kiss on it as searing as a flame and as soft as velvet. His lips were reluctant to leave your skin, so he growled against it, “It is the most valiant kindness I can give you to leave you now. Dream sweetly of me, darling. And when the sun rises, leave my castle and never return.”

Like a specter or a memory, he turned abruptly and his broad frame vanished into the shadows of his hallway. No candles or torches lit his way, the darkness his oldest companion.

*******************************************************************************************

Icy spiderwebs of frost streaked across the glass of the arched windows gave the morning sunlight a crystalline brilliance when it streamed into your bedroom to wake you. The sun’s beautiful rudeness announced your stay at the Beast’s castle had ended. A fire that should have burned out during the night still roared in the fireplace and despite the cool stone walls, the room was filled with warmth. The castle and whatever spirits haunted its halls had welcomed you to stay forever, even if its Master would banish you for your own safety.

A note rested on the nightstand beside you, yellowed parchment folded and sealed with a blood red wax emblem depicting a mounted knight slaying a dragon. The letter came with the knowledge that Kylo had entered your room sometime during the night, had been close enough to touch your sleeping body when he left the letter. You wondered if he had. You hoped he had. A new breed of warmth flooded your body as you broke the letter’s seal. Penned in elegant calligraphy, Kylo spoke to you.

You have given me more than you shall ever know. The gift of your enchanting beauty, your brilliant smile, your sparkling eyes. You gave me the memory of the man I once was, a taste of a life long forgotten. To ask more of you would only serve to put you in the gravest possible danger. I shall not introduce you to the Beast of legend, but content myself in knowing you met only the man. Take my gifts and my thanks, and flee from this cursed place as fast as my horse can carry you.

Your servant, Kylo.

After the third read over his letter, you were resolved. You most certainly would not grant his entreat. You were not leaving his castle.

Despite your best efforts as a huntress, you could not find Kylo upon your morning search. Although, a concerted search of the fortress and grounds would take a fortnight. The castle was vacant, but it was not empty. Filled with memories, its walls held the faded echoes of laughing happiness and enraged screams, its floors stained with tears of joy and of hardship, with the blood and sweat of the generations who had lived and died inside throughout the centuries. Wonders lurked behind every door, dusty and forlorn, but wondrous beneath the neglect. Tarnished was the former majesty that had once graced the castle, but gone it was not. It would require no more than attention and a loving hand to restore its resplendence. You suspected the same of its master.

It was the cathedral-esque library that captured your interest and held it until the sun bid you farewell and twilight painted the sky crimson. Each of the thousands of leatherbound volumes was a gateway to a new world, another adventure, a life you’ve yet to live. Easily and happily lost inside an adventure captured by ink on paper, you did not notice the passage of hours until the words you read grew dim in the gloaming. Even as you thought it, the castle’s candles and torches sparked to dancing life.

With the setting of the sun the master of the castle awakened. And you felt it. The walls creaked and the tresses groaned, sharing the Beast’s pain. A growl filled with rage and despondence boomed through the long, lonely halls so that it was adopted by the walls in its reverberations. Next were crashes, the splintering of wood, the breaking of glass, the clang of metal, as furniture was destroyed by its wrathful master like a lamb at the slaughter. The sounds of frenzy and destruction led you easily to the Beast. To the dining hall that had been so grand the evening before but was now ravaged and torn through, as though a tornado had spun itself to death inside.

Silver strewn, furniture broken, table overturned, portraits slashed, and drapes hanging askew were all illuminated by dying candles that lay flickering and strewn across the floor like dying soldiers on a battlefield. In the twinkling golden light, you saw the Beast. And the Beast Kylo Ren had become was full of fury and sorrow and bloodlust, with no trace of the dashing man who had shown you a perfect evening. Shoulders hunched, long hair wild, muscles rippling beneath black fabric that was ill-suited to restrain them, Kylo snarled viciously as he grabbed another unfortunate chair and threw it against the wall with enough force to shatter it to splinters.

You could feel his rage and his pain as though they were your own. Rage at the monstrosity that lived inside him. Pain at sending away the woman who gave him a taste of salvation.

“You needn’t make such an ado over my departure,” you said calmly as you stepped fully into the broken dining hall. “You’ll find it has been delayed.”

Kylo whipped his head to look at you and you saw the face of the Beast. Razored fangs, two on each side of his upper teeth, were ready to tear you apart and his eyes were unnatural gleaming gold. A demon’s eyes met yours in place of a man’s. You saw in them shock that turned at once to shame and then bled into fear. Terror at the thought of harming you, because surely you would be overcome with fright, that deliciously irresistible fear, at the sight of him.

But the only fear was his, you had none. Stepping over rolling candles and broken glass, you walked to him with confidence until you stood close enough to feel the heat of his powerful body.

“You’re not the most dangerous thing in this castle tonight,” you told him in a sultry lift as you reached behind his neck. Without giving him the option to resist, you pulled him down to meet your lips and kissed him with a passion that set the soul within him burning as he crushed you to his body, wanting nevermore to release you from his embrace. There was no fear, only searing desire as you licked over the tips of his fangs and his tongue danced with yours. His golden eyes were molten when you finally drew apart and your lips were swollen with ripened pleasure when you said to him, “It took a witch to curse you. Only a witch can cure you.”

“A witch?” He cocked an eyebrow at you as a ferociously handsome smile curled his lips. “My darling, whether you offer a cure or another curse, I am yours for the taking.” He kissed you again, deep and lingering, then asked, “A lady as rare and radiant as you can only be a white witch?”

“Oh, I’m as wicked as they come.” You grinned wickedly indeed. “I came to the darkness long before you ever asked me to join you for an evening in your castle.” You stroked his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath your hands, his love and passion rekindled. “We shall share in this darkness, and within it, find more light and happiness than mere mortals have ever dared to dream.”

“Darkness or light, I will not let you walk in either alone.” He held you tighter, his strong arms wrapped around your body. “Until mountains crumble to dust at our feet, I will hold you and love you with all the might of my heart. It now beats for you alone. For as long as there are stars to shine and a moon to light our way, I will never leave your side.”

*******************************************************************************************

Tagging some wicked witches!

#my stuff!#my writing #halloween #vampire #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #best #fic #kylo #writer wednesday #knight #Jacques

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absurdthirst · 1 year

Text

Coming Home for Christmas {Agent Whiskey x F!Reader}

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Writer Wednesday Week 42: 12/14/22 @writer-wednesday

|| Writer Wednesday || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s late, almost too late to be outside. The shops have all closed, everyone rushing home to be with their families. Not wanting to miss a second of eggnog and Christmas carols. Dirty Santa gift exchanges and last minute cookie baking. Everyone wanted to celebrate the season or their holiday. Everyone but him.

The snow crunches under his boots, hands shoved down into the pockets of his coat. He’d forgotten his gloves in the truck that had given him a ride to the edge of town. Venturing no further than the highway. It had been a small miracle when the truck had stopped by the beat up and broken down Bronco to begin with.

Snow looks pretty but it’s bone-chilling when you are out in it, the brim of his hat the only thing keeping it from soaking into his hair or settling on his neck where the collar of his jacket is pulled up.

Dark storefronts and street lamps are his companions. The sidewalks are covered in a fresh layer of powder despite the piled high banks from where it had been shoveled earlier. Guilt settles into his stomach, curling uncomfortably as he realizes it’s been years since he’s been in this little town.

Leaving in a fit of glory and self confidence only to skulk back into town unnoticed and most definitely with his tail tucked between his legs. Bridges burned and prestige lost, he’s not the man who had sworn to once turn this town on its ear.

He’s got nothing but the clothes on his back, the few bucks in his wallet wouldn’t buy anything suitable to bring even if a shop were open. The tantalizing scents of candy and baked goods coming out of the bakery long replaced with the scent of snow.

Shuddering, he lifts his shoulders high, nearly to his ears as he walks. The path was never forgotten even though it’s been a long time since he’s traveled this road. Honestly he had never thought he would be here again if he were honest with himself.

Down around the corner and up the stairs. It’s not too far away. Unless you’ve moved. How sorry would he feel for himself if he knocks on the door and you aren’t there. If some stranger opens the door and gives him a questioning look. Someone he’s never seen before and they don’t know who you are. What if you’ve blown this town’s dust off your boots like he had? What if there isn’t a refuge from the proverbial cold for him?

He should have called, should have kept in touch, but he hadn’t. Every day it became a little easier to forget, to get wrapped up in the importance of his job, the excitement. Telling himself that he would check in, check up on you when he had a free moment, that he would do it later - until he had just….stopped thinking about it altogether.

Now he’s here, every step bringing him closer to his destination. If you aren’t there, maybe you’ve gone traveling for the holidays, getting away from the cold and snow. It would be unusual, but then again, how does he know if your habits haven’t changed?

Turning the corner of the row of buildings, he sees the small alleyway. The familiar staircase that leads up to the door above the old apothecary turned coffee shop. The apartment that you had lived in for as long as he could remember. The cheerful lights twisting around the bannister invite visitors up towards the wreath adorned door.

At the stairs, he pauses. Looking up to see the lights shining through the windows, a shadow of someone (maybe you?) moving through the space with the ease of someone who is home. He takes a deep breath, swallowing down his nerves as he takes the first step of seventeen that will take him to your doorstep.

He sighs as he stands in front of the door. The one that he would have just walked into without a thought. Now he stands here, almost a stranger as he contemplates turning around and leaving without ever alerting you that he is here. You will be disappointed in him, you probably already are. He’s aware of his faults and the grievances that he has committed against you.

Still, he’s here and his hand comes out of his pocket, curls into a fist and he lifts it up. Ready to knock and bring you to the door. Pausing again because once he does it, he can’t unring the bell as the saying goes.

Three sharp raps. That’s all he gives. Enough to make his presence known but not enough to startle you. Listening to the sounds of footsteps bringing you closer. Then the clicking and sliding of the locks as you throw the bolt of the door. Good girl, staying safe while you are home.

His stomach clenches even as his eyes narrow slightly against the brightness of the light behind you when the door is opened. Your eyes widen in shock and he doesn’t miss the surprised gasp, even as he is sliding on a practiced, easy going smile, like it has been ten minutes since he’s seen you rather than ten years.

“Jack!” You whisper, like you’ve seen a ghost. Maybe that is true for you, he’s the ghost of husbands past.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Jack’s tone is as smooth as Kentucky whiskey. “Merry Christmas.”

#writer wednesday #pedro pascal #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey fanfic

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artemiseamoon · 2 years

Text

Cherry Blossoms in Chicago

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x f reader | The Bear masterlist

Week 20 @writer-wednesday

Words: 1,162

Warnings: brief mention of stress and his brothers death

An: it’s happening! I though I would start with Michael cause you know, Jon. But here we are! It’s blue eyes over here first.

It’s been four months since you reunited with Carmen. He was quiet in school, shy, he didn't really have any friends and he stayed to himself. You weren’t the most extroverted person in the world, and the two of you eventually bonded over senior year.

But there was only so much you knew about Carmen, you only got so close. When you left college, you and Carmen didn’t keep in touch. He wasn’t the best communicator and anytime you tried to reach out to him, he took a long time to reply or didn’t reply at all.

Any hope for you and Carmen reconnecting finally died when he moved away, and you didn’t see him again for a long time. Though, his accomplishments outside of Chicago were a big deal, especially in the culinary world. The lack of communication from him didn’t sour how proud of him you felt, you hoped he was proud of himself too.

Over this time, you lived your life, graduated college and had boyfriends. Your crush on Carmen made its way to the back of your mind as you moved through your life without him. You didn’t think about it again until he came back home, after Michael's death to run resturaunt.

Carmen was in town for two months before you visited and ordered some food. You could tell he was stressed, tired, overwhelmed. Still, at the sight of you, Carmen’s brilliant blue eyes lit up. You could tell in that moment, your short lived-friendship stayed with him too.

From there, you would visit a few times. Carmen never really had time to talk and didn't seem to live a life outside of the restaurant. You didn’t have your first real conversation with him until the both of you ended up on the same train one morning.

When Carmen sat next to you, you initiated a conversion. You led most of it, Carmen still didn't say much, just like he did in high school, but he was slightly more relaxed and seemed happy to sit next to you. He listened closely to everything you said.

Carmen didn’t want to talk about himself, and even when you asked how he was doing, he said fine and ran his fingers through his wild hair. You didn’t push the topic any further.

Over the next few months, you and Carmen continued to have little interactions like this. Though they never lasted more than 10 minutes. Whenever you came into the restaurant, Carmen gave you something for free. Or something he made for you.

Carmen may not have been the best communicator, but he did it best though food, you could feel all the love and attention to detail he put into it.

Feeling hopeful and energized by the start of a beautiful Spring, you decide to get Carmen out of the restaurant for a couple of hours. You wanted to see the cherry blossoms in the park for a few days now and figure it could be a nice thing to do with Carmen. A peaceful chill activity that could bring him out of his ball of stress, perfectionism and anxiety.

A few days ago you saw the sign that the place was closed for renovations, so if there was any time to successfully get him away, it would be now. When you show up, he's inside with the crew and lets you in. You follow him back to his office.

“Hey. You're hungry, want some food?” He asked.

“Not yet but I’m here for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, you.”

His blue eyes remain locked on yours as he tries to figure out what you mean by that.

“Take the apron off, we’re going out.”

“I can’t. I have too much to do.”

“The place is closed. Right?”

“Right. And we're doing renovations. I have to be here.”

“Carmen, you practically live in this place. You can take an hour or two. Trust me. It will be worth it. Maybe grab some food to go.”

Carmen grins, “what are you planning?”

“It’s a surprise. Come on, apron.” You point at it. Looking past him, you see Sydney walking by.

Sydney smiles at you and mouths, “please. Take him. He needs this.”

You chuckle to yourself and point at the apron again. Carmen shakes his head, he’s still not sure about this. But he eventually takes off the apron. You take it and put it on his desk.

“Good. Now, how about we take two sandwiches and some drinks.”

Carmen laughs, “okay. Okay.” He leads the way out of the office.

The relaxed walk through the park is just as calming as you dreamed it would be. At first, Carmen was still tense, but as you walked, you noticed him relax little by little. You even stopped to smell the flowers, which he refused to do at first, then gave in.

“Nice right, see.” You grinned at him.

One of the cherry blossom flowers falls off. Carmen catches it and awkwardly offers it to you. You take it and tuck it in behind your ear.

“Guess that one was for you. '' He slides his hands in his pocket as he observes you.

“Thank you tree,” you start walking again, he falls in step with you. Your eyes drift to his arms. His biceps were distracting. In his left hand he holds the bag with your sandwiches and two soft drinks.

“How about this spot?” You point to a bench under one of the trees. Carmen answers with a nod and you both take a seat.

He uses the space between you to set the food and drinks out, using the bag as a barrier between the food and the bench. As he does this, his hair falls into his face.

“This is nice. Thank you.” He said, his eyes still cast downward.

“My pleasure.” You wait for him to look up, he doesn’t yet.

“Um,” he glances up and runs his hand over his mouth, “we’re having family style dinner later, if you want to come.” He breaks eye contact. “You could uh, bring your guy, if you want.”

“I don’t have a guy, not anymore.” Carmen’s beautiful blue eyes dart back to yours. “It's done, mutual clean break. No drama. It just wasn't…the connection wasn't there.”

“Shit. damn, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be...It’s a good thing.” You pause, Carmen stares at you. “I feel fine.”

“Okay. Family dinner then?” The flower falls away from your ear where you tucked it, Carmen catches it. After a moment of hesitation, he places it back.

You smile warmly at him, “I’ll be there.”

Carmen smiles shyly. His eyes land on your outfit as he hands you a drink. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. It's gorgeous out today, figured why not wear my favorite outfit.”

“It looks good.” his eyes continue to burn into you and that school girl crush of yours grows tenfold. Carmen looks away and hands you a sandwich. “Let’s eat.”

Thanks for reading!

More writer Wednesday

More The Bear

#Carmen Carmy Berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #the bear hulu #Carmen berzatto x f reader #writer wednesday #artes moodboards #The Bear Moodboards #Carmen berzatto fluff

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 years

Text

Falling

Summary: Your day could have been better. Staying in late with your judgemental Co-Worker wasn't on top of your list, but at least Matt was there to pick you up after.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem. Reader (plus sized implied)

Wordcount: 1.2k

Rating: G

Warnings: judgy people, self esteem issues, fluff, Matt being a sweetheart, some kissing

12 hour days at the office were nothing out of the ordinary.

It wasn’t like your boss wanted you to stay and sit in front of his office, while he did… god knows what. But you did anyway, mostly because you got paid for the hours you stayed longer, who were you to say no to some extra money. And most of the times you didn’t had anything better to do anyway.

But today?

Today you had a date. Your third date. With your very handsome and intelligent lawyer… boyfriend? At least you were leaning towards boyfriend.

You had met him in a bar. Josie’s. He looked like a lost puppy next to his friend Foggy who was… well very occupied with his girlfriend. Matt’s tie had been loose around his neck and the sleeves of his dress shirt had been rolled up and you remembered biting your lip as you took him in, completely oblivious to the grin he was giving you, his eyes hidden behind his red glasses.

He was… way out of your league.

You were… you had been called the ugly friend all your life. You were on the chubbier side; you didn’t spend hours in the bathroom to get ready. Who needs more than some moisturizer and Mascara anyway? Sure you had days were you put a little more effort into your appearance, days like today were you put on a wrap dress and heels and lip gloss because you wouldn’t have time to go home and change before you’d meet Matt at the little Italian place he had invited you to.

You sighed, ignoring the look from Christy from PR who had been giving you annoying side glances all day, even going so far and saying you should put more effort in your looks more often, the dress making you not appear so fat. She had hated you from the start.

You had no idea what you ever did to piss the woman off, but you weren’t about to invest your precious time in finding out. She was a bitch, you always had to deal with them, and you probably always would.

You texted Matt, telling him you were still stuck at work and didn’t know when you’d be finished.

He’d texted back that he’d wait and to text him when you were off. You smiled at your phone, your heart doing a flip inside your chest.

“Who has you smiling like that?” you almost let your phone fall out of your hands when your boss appeared in front of you. He was a nice older man and… the only reason you really stayed at this place. You put your phone down on your desk and smiled a little.

“It’s…”

“Complicated?” he asked. You shook your head.

“It’s pretty new? I was supposed to meet him an hour ago but…”

“I kept you here. I’m sorry. Please go. I just need to finish some things. I’ll be out of here in an hour too.”

You looked at him.

“Well... If you’re sure?”

“Of course I am. Go. And I won’t be in tomorrow until noon, so…” he winked before he turned around and walked towards the staff kitchen. You smiled after him before you began to pack your things. You texted Matt, telling him you’d be there in twenty minutes before you put your coat on and made your way to the elevators.

You heard heels clicking behind you and suppressed a groan when Christy stopped next to you. She got into the elevator with you. You tried your best to ignore your presence, checking your phone where Matt had texted you that he was waiting outside.

You smiled again.

“Are you really dating someone?” Christy asked a little too interested. You looked up at her.

“Is that so surprising?” you scoffed.

“I guess not. Even people like you deserve someone,” she said with distaste. You blinked your eyes in disbelief before you looked away from her, just in time for the elevator doors to open.

“So who is it?” she asked, following you out of the elevator. You ignored her again, seeing Matt already waiting outside. He was standing under a big umbrella. It had started to snow earlier this afternoon, the weather completely ignoring the fact that it was spring.

“None of your business, Christy,” you said over your shoulder before you stepped out of the building. Matt turned around and your smile only widened.

“Hey there,” he smiled, holding up a cup of what probably was a hot chocolate from your favourite café, the logo printed on the cup.

“Hi,” you felt your cheeks warming up as you walked over to him. He gave you the cup before he pulled you to his side under the umbrella.

“Hi,” he said again before he kissed you softly. “How was your day?”

“Long. A little annoying, same old,” you shrugged. You felt his hand on your waist as he slowly began to walk down the street. You put your arm around his back under his coat, getting closer to his side, seeking his warmth.

“Annoying?”

You looked to your side, seeing Christy still watching you.

“I have this colleague who thinks, and I quote Even people like me deserve someone,” you huffed and Matt stopped walking. He turned so you were standing chest against chest and you looked up at him, his face serious.

“No one should talk to you like that. What does that even mean?” he frowned, and you couldn’t help but reach up, your fingers brushing over his cheek.

“Matt, you can’t see me. You don’t see how I look or how other people look at me, just because I’m… not the typical type of woman that people find attractive. And...”

“God I hate people…” he groaned and you chuckled.

“Yeah. Me too. Well I hate most people. Anyway… I have lived all my life with people judging me for my looks. I bet many people judged you because you’re blind,” you shrugged.

“Probably, but I can’t see them,” he grinned and you slapped his chest while you both giggled.

“Not all of us have these perks, Mr. Murdock.”

“Well… Let me just say, even though I can’t see you, these people are wrong. You’re beautiful and sexy, but what matters even more is you’re beautiful on the inside. Though…” he leant down, to get closer to you.

“I hope I get to show you just how beautiful you are…” he whispered, his hand on your back pulling you even closer against him. He was still holding the umbrella as the snow kept falling around you. You shivered and he smirked.

“Well…” you croaked, before you took a deep breath. “Why don’t we start with dinner and look where this night leads us?” you proposed and Matt nodded before he kissed you. You put your arm around his neck and he deepened the kiss, making you gasp.

You didn’t know how long you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk kissing him, like in a freaking hallmark movie, but you didn’t care.

You didn’t get to the office until noon the next day.

Taglist:

@writer-wednesday / @myguiltypleasures21 / @phoebe-danvers / @mrslizzyolsen / @xoxabs88xox / @doin-stuff / @1800-fight-me / @stuckybarton

#my fic #writer wednesday #matt murdock #matt murdock x fem reader #charlie cox #daredevil #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #prompt

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