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slut4fangs · 1 year

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🍒 double cherry pie 🍒

pairing: female reader x eddie munson

summary: you and eddie have been friends for years, until one day you decide to ask him what the handcuffs on his wall are for *wink wink*

warnings: 18+, smut, slight innocence kink but reader is playing dumb (strategically), come eating lolz, possessive eddie, bestfriend!eddie makes his return, not proofread i was really excited to post this one haha, and the rest is a surprise

author’s note: this idea came to my head and there are so many eddie fics it’s possible some version of this exists somewhere else, but anyhow my brain wouldn’t shut up about this idea until i wrote it down haha. please reblog and comment i love to hear your feedback it keeps me encouraged to write! okay ilysm enjoy babes

not proofread be nice - xoxo, slater

Eddie Munson was good at getting what he wanted needed out of you, he needed you more than he needed air to breathe. Not that you noticed though, you two had been friends for as long as you could remember and Eddie had always been inching closer and closer to having you all to himself. In your time as friends, Eddie had decided he would be your first everything. I’m talking all of the bases, first base aka kissing, second base aka touching above the waist, third base aka touching below the waist. And lastly, he planned on a home run, because in his mind no one else deserved to have you like that but him. He had been a guard dog of sorts, protecting you from any heartbreak, which meant scaring off anyone who tried to get their hands on you. It wasn’t easy, some were persistent, leaving notes in your locker, walking you to class, nothing or no one got between Eddie and his favorite girl. His girl.

“What are these for,” you feigned innocence at the handcuffs that adorned Eddie’s poster cluttered walls. You knew exactly what they were meant for, you just wanted to hear him say it. The confused look on your face nearly took Eddie’s breath away, now was his chance.

“For bad girls,” Eddie chuckled at his own ridiculous behavior. God, you were driving him crazy without even laying a finger on him.

“Oh?” Your voice rant with curiosity and interest, maybe you could be bad. Just this one time, maybe. Eddie was shirtless in his tight black jeans and he really couldn't have looked more delectable than he did at this very moment. The temptation was there for the taking.

“Mmmhm,” Eddie sat on his bed, hands placed behind him to prop him up.

“Mmmhm isn’t much of an answer, Munson,” your heart raced, you really couldn’t help toying with him a bit. He thought you were none the wiser, but you had a hunch for what all of his odd behavior meant lately. You were just unaware of how much he actually liked you. It was bordering on obsession and Eddie couldn’t help it, he adored you, always had. The tension the last few weeks were palpable to say the least.

“Well I could show you better than I can tell you…” Eddie smirked knowingly at you, sitting up to rest his hands on his thighs.

“And what is that supposed to mean,” you blushed sweetly. Eddie loved when he made you blush, if he only knew how many times you had blushed and turned away so he couldn’t see turn red. It happened more often than you liked to admit.

“You’re a hands on learner aren’t you,” Eddie trailed off hopefully.

Say yes, say yes, say yes Eddie thought to himself.

“How’d you know,” you smiled at him, of course he knew that he’s known you forever. He just hoped you’d say yes, and he was halfway to getting that yes.

“Hand em’ over then,” Eddie held out his hand and you took the handcuffs off the wall careful not to scuff the paint, not that Eddie would care. He worshiped the ground you walked on, after all.

“Okay…,” you say handing them to Eddie, and to your delight he pats his lap as if to say ‘take a seat.’

Straddling his lap you try your best to stay calm and cool about the whole situation, but it was a long time coming and you could’ve screamed if you weren’t so nervous.

“Now,” Eddie begins, holding the handcuffs out to you, “hands.” You place your hands in front of you waiting on further instruction, giddy as a kid in a candy shop.

Eddie cuffs your wrists and snaps the clasps shut sounds so final, heart pounding you smile and say “now what.”

“Now…you’re stuck with me,” Eddie places your cuffed hands around his neck and presses your body to his, you can feel how hard you’ve made him and you audibly gasp. Eddie’s hands are palming your ass, “nice skirt,” his hands are under your skirt now, fingers skimming the lace detail of your panties. “Cute,” Eddie comments, a small groan escaping his pretty mouth.

“Ditto,” you wanted nothing more but to kiss him in this moment, but good things were worth waiting for.

“Ditto? Are you calling me cute?” Eddie looked a mix between amused and confused. No one has called him cute since he was a little kid, it wasn’t a compliment he was used to. The frequented compliments came from the punk girl who worked the gas station near his house, and one of the older waitresses at his work. Sarah always complimented his hair and jacket, and Mabel always told him how handsome he looked with his hair pushed back as he worked. She had said he looked more and more handsome every time she saw him, she felt like she watched him grow up in the blink of an eye. And Sarah thought he was cool, but she liked women only, Eddie just happened to be the prettiest boy in town. Plenty of girls liked Eddie, but he was taboo, town gossip ensured his dating life was much more complicated than it should ever be for someone in their early twenties.

“Yes,” you sigh, a little dreamy sigh that had slipped out before you could stop it. “You’re cute, but you’re also hot.”

“Hot?” Eddie raised his eyebrows in shock, you’ve never really commented on his looks, you thought he already knew how good looking and charming he was. But you were getting the memo that he didn’t actually know, and you thought someone should let him know, you’d be damned if it was anyone else but you.

“As hot as the trailer gets in the summer when the window AC unit goes out and you hit it and cuss it out until it works,” you say making Eddie’s mouth drop. Were you really admitting you had feelings for him by making a reference to his shitty AC?

“Oh my god,” is all Eddie can say, “how long have you been in love with me?” And just like that his smartass attitude had returned with a vengeance, he knew you liked him now so all bets were off, no more tiptoeing around the truth.

“Quit it, are you going to show me what these handcuffs are for or not, Eddie Munson?”

“I could have you cuffed to this bed and screaming my name, but I don’t think you’re ready for that yet,” Eddie says and you scoff. “Don’t get an attitude with me,” Eddie smirks at the brat straddling him, “patience is a virtue, Princess.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes and wish you could cross your arms in protest. How did he know what you were and weren’t ready for? What was his fucking deal? “Whose the tease now,” you remark, not able to hold that one back when you should’ve been feigning innocence and keeping face.

“Oh, so you were doing that on purpose? Aw my little tease, how cute,” Eddie boops the tip of your nose with his finger.

“Shut up,” you retort.

“Be careful, remember I’m the one with the key.”

“What are you trying to say?” Your attitude was palpable at this point and Eddie was getting fed up. Before you knew what was happening Eddie had you flipped you onto the bed and a hand holding your cuffed wrists to the mattress above your head.

“I’m trying to say I’d be careful if I were you, I might keep you here like this forever,” his other hand held your cheek so gently like you might break.

“Is that a threat?” You’re the one smirking now, staying here under him didn’t seem like a bad fate after all.

“You’re going to kill me,” Eddie whispered, thinking of how to hold himself back when you were here, waiting for him to touch you, wanting him almost as much as he wanted you. Eddie knew he wanted to take his time with you, first base was the end goal but god the home run was right in front of his face, begging him to go further than he thought you were ready for.

Before he did anything else he had to know for sure, because it looked as though you could’ve already had your first kiss. Not that it would change his mind about you, he just wanted to be your everything, that was all. “Has anyone ever kissed you? Honest answer please.”

“No! Oh my god, I’ve been waiting for you,” you whined and writhed beneath him, he could feel his dick brush against you and he hissed at the feeling.

“You have no idea how what that means to me,” Eddie said reaching over you to his nightstand for the key.

“I think I have an idea,” you nodded your head towards his crotch and he laughed unlocking the cuffs.

Tossing the handcuffs to the side Eddie laughed and brought you back up to his lap in an instant, for a lanky guy he really had the potential to toss you around and that made your mind run wild with the possibilities.

“Kiss me already, what are you waiting for?” You ask impatiently squeezing Eddie’s arms.

“Waitin’ for that beautiful mouth of yours to quit moving,” Eddie brushed his thumb along your bottom lip teasingly and you nodded, closing your mouth, eyes big and glassy. He melted at the sight of you. “That’s more like it,” Eddie held your face and your hands held onto his arms in vice like grips. Eddie and you met half way, lips brushing slightly, “close your eyes,” Eddie directed making you laugh. Your laugh was cut short by him pressing his mouth to yours, he quite literally took your breath away. The kiss was soft and warm, gentle at first, Eddie ran his tongue across your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him. The two of you melted together nicely, a sweet kiss turned pornographic and animalistic the way you two had both waited for this moment forever. Eddie moaned in your mouth and you pressed yourself against him, he was still sensitive but didn’t break the kiss even though it hurt. He thought it hurt too good to stop. His hands raked down your hips and then back up, you would’ve gasped when he groped your breasts but you were too busy devouring him to break the kiss. Too busy to question his hand under your skirt, feeling how wet you were for him. You could feel him smile as he ran his finger through your folds, two fingers stretching you out deliciously you couldn't fight the urge to rock back and fourth on his fingers, and that's when you pushed against him until his back hit the mattress. You broke the kiss and stared down at him, he cheeks were flushed and he looked breathtaking.

"Hmm," you sat up and fiddled with his handcuff belt buckle, he was looking at you with awe and curiosity. What were you planning to do next? He decided that would be your choice. Much to his surprise you started unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans.

"Are you sure about this," Eddie held the waistband of his jeans, waiting on that yes again.

"I've never been more sure of anything, Eddie. I want you, I want this," you said and that's all it took for Eddie to peel his jeans off while you took your shirt off. Not feeling shy, not feeling anything but how right this all felt. Eddie's fingers slid along the waistband of your panties and slipped them off with ease, when you sat on top of him with no barrier in between the two of you he sighed with relief. Rubbing yourself on him was making his head spin, he let out a string of curses when you licked up his neck, kissing and sucking until he had you flipped over on your back again, giggling up at him, you knew just how to drive him wild.

"You're trouble," Eddie pumped two fingers in and out of you torturously slow, curling his fingers in a come hither motion over and over again until your legs felt like jelly and the sounds coming from you sounded rated R. You whined with his tongue on your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin until there was sure to be a big hickey in the shape of Eddie's mouth. But you didn't care what people would think, nothing could ruin this.

"You're sinful," slipped out of your mouth and you surprised yourself at the sheer smoothness of your words, something about him made you comfortable enough to say these dirty things.

"Mm, maybe my mouth is," Eddie's tongue circled your breast, sucking on your breast staring up at you, you knew Eddie's mouth wasn't the most sinful thing about him with his cock pressed to your tummy. You run your hands through his hair and whine, tears rolling down your cheeks from the overstimulation. "Feel good, Princess?" Eddie kissed your lips and smiled devilishly down at you.

"Mhm," you nodded.

"Mhm isn't much of an answer, baby. Need to hear you say it," Eddie parted your thighs further apart for him, angling himself closer to you and rubbing his cock up and down your folds, almost pushing himself in but not yet, not until you said it.

"Need to feel you inside me, please, Eddie," you held his face and swept his hair out of the way, your hands running through his hair were quickly becoming one of his biggest weaknesses. He couldn't deny you of what you wanted any longer, when the only thing you wanted was for him to be closer.

"Fuck," Eddie cursed burying himself into you halfway, "I don't know if I'll fit, relax for me. Ok, baby? How does that feel?" He kissed your cheek and wiped a tear away.

"More, please," you dig your fingernails into Eddie's back and he laughs, relieved he wasn't hurting you. "Feels good, Eddie, need more," you scratch down his back, cherry red nails gripping onto his waist, your hips moving against his, giving you everything you asked for and more. You really weren't expecting him to be this big.

Your kiss marks all over his chest and neck he tells you "you're making a mess of me, trying to ruin me for everyone else?"

"Isn't that what you're doing too?" You smirk up at him knowingly.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Yes," you cry out, your orgasm finally hitting you in waves.

"Oh my god, Cherry," Eddie said using that cute nickname only he could call you, no one else. Keeping the same pace he held you close and soothed you through the intensity, kissing you everywhere. "Let me see your tongue," you stick your tongue out and let him spit on it and makeout until you feel him release inside of you.

Then Eddie does something you never could've seen coming, he isn't done with you yet. He finds a comfortable place for his head between your thighs, biting and sucking at the plush flesh inside your thighs, there he kisses you pussy and sucks at your clit making you shake. Licking you clean, and lapping his come out of your pussy, you watch in amazement as he winks at you while his tongue fucks your pussy, the most sinful thing you've ever seen and felt.

You wondered just how long he planned to do this, if you only really knew how long he'd thought about having you like this. The hickeys on your neck were enough to scare anyone away from his Cherry pie.

#eddie x female reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #best friend!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x y/n #best friend!eddie munson #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson oneshot

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theneighborhoodwatch · 2 months

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interesting that sally is the one that brought eddie to the party and brought frank over to him

y'know, i was gonna answer this with a "yeah, so?" but... that fact, in combination with the fact that she became a bit of a person of interest herself in the october 13th update (albeit not to the same extent as eddie was in this update) in combination with this oddly symbolic shot from the commercial reel/holiday special:

is really making me wonder. i know back then i said that i didn't think that sally's story had much truth to it, and that at best, she was just accidentally correct about some future plot point on a more metaphorical level - but now i wonder if "sally's story is an embellished version of something she actually did experience that she's telling to sound less suspicious" carries more weight than i originally thought. y'know, like, a covert attempt to explain the unexplainable, even if only to herself. a monster, after all, is a physical thing that you can kill if need be. whatever eddie (and following this train of thought, sally) saw... not so much.

maybe... and i have no evidence for this, but maybe part of sally's animosity towards eddie is like, some subconscious resentment over the fact that for whatever reason, she doesn't feel safe to entrust anyone with the truth of what she actually saw (and furthermore, the truth that she doesn't know what she actually saw - god forbid the perfectionist be less then perfect!) like "ahhh look at this loser, i bet he wouldn't even be half as good as i am at keeping on the down low if he saw even a fraction of what i saw. no class! no tact whatsoever! why, he'd break down at the first sign of true adversity, with how accustomed to mundane labor he is!" the tragedy there is, of course, that sally does not deserve to be in a position where she feels like she has to hide something like this from her neighbors to begin with, but she doesn't have the emotional self-awareness to realize this. does that mean she led eddie to the homewarming party with the intention of exposing him to the horrors? ...it's possible, but i can't see that being compatible with this specific theory, so i'm going to set it aside for an alternate reading for someone else to come up with. either way, her approaching eddie with frank and then leaving right before eddie snaps back to reality (or rather, the layer of reality he's most accustomed to) does feel very deliberate in this reading. so many questions...

of course, to reiterate, that's all purely hypothetical. her feelings towards eddie could stem from something totally different and the screenshot above could just as easily be a visual representation of her big honkin' ego. but, like, once upon a time i thought the letters that made up the YXWVOE code were nothing, so. you never know!

#welcome home #wh speculation #sally starlet #eddie dear #anonymous #ask

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ianthine-ichor · 5 months

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I had an ask for this story but it was sadly eaten by the Tumblr gods 😔

So for the anon who asked for John Price x Reader who comes to him years later after a bad breakup because they are in danger, this one's for you!

John Price x Reader ~ All I Have is You

Summary: You come running back to John years after a nasty break-up in hopes of finding some help out of a horrible situation.

Word count:: 6.5k

Tw in tags

John's life could never be simple. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many loose ends he pulled together by the skin of his teeth. There always managed to be something he let lay dormant, something he let fall to the wayside just long enough for it to maybe even slip his mind. And damn near every time it did, it came back with a vengeance.

However, of all the things he knew would come back to haunt him, you were what he expected least of all.

He had believed you a long dead part of his life, a piece of himself better numbed in alcohol than thought about. A face he'd spent endless nights trying to forget the smile of, endless partners failing to take your stead. He'd long since conceded to that aspect of himself being buried, hardly remedied by the ‘I love you’ that would fall from whoever had been his most recent escape from the icy cold of his bed.

But then, on a day like any other in this silent little place he'd given up trying to make feel like any sort of home, he'd opened the door to your unmistakable features.

He didn't know what to feel in the years of silence that seemed to pass. His mind and muscles tore themselves apart trying to find what reaction seemed appropriate. A part of himself didn't believe it, a similar part almost reached out to hold you, and another felt infuriated. He wasn't sure if it was because even so close you felt like light years away or if it was because he wanted to slam the door in your face for daring to ever come back. And for a moment, however small, he seriously considered the latter of the two.

But then you spoke. And suddenly whatever amount of spine had led him to the thought melted like butter.

“I need to talk. I know I have no right to ask but…” you paused, your voice softer than he thinks he's ever heard you speak. There might have even been a quiver in it, but he could hardly believe such a sound could come from the person who had once held together his broken pieces like you'd been solving him your entire life.

“I need your help” your chin raises and you meet his gaze, his skin flashing with the familiarity in how your eyes narrowed and your face snarled. It's hard to take your attempt at strength seriously with how feigned of an attempt it was. He says nothing and just the same he watches as you crumble. Your eyes avert, your hands twitch, your body leans away from him.

He hardly recognizes you.

But he steps aside all the same, a nod inviting you in as he keeps his vow of silence. You almost hesitate, but step in soon enough. Like a long lost ritual you kick your shoes off at the door, hanging your jacket and bristling as the light cold leaves your skin. He notes how you don't let him out of your sight but he can't tell why your eyes burn as much as they do.

Eventually he leads you to the kitchen. He wonders if you notice the empty frames. He wonders if you even care to look.

Like some twisted version of an old dream, you take your spot at the table where you used to sit. And before he even realizes what he's doing he's perking coffee, his eyes turning to you.

“Coffee?” He asks, but he isn't even sure why he does. Looking at you would be enough of an answer. You looked like you hadn't slept in months. You nod anyway.

He pretends to forget how you make your coffee. Out of spite? Anger? Frustration? It doesn't matter. He simply couldn't find the energy to put into someone whose presence made his heart find an old pace that left him biting his tongue at the bittersweet taste. Either way you get your coffee and he somehow finds the energy to sit across from you.

“You wanted to speak. Speak” his words come out harsher than he means them yet he doesn't find regret settling in his chest. Only minor annoyance as he watches you almost recoil from him, your drink pulled to your chest. Your eyes seem to search around for a moment, as if the words you needed so badly to speak would simply appear in front of you. He remembers how he used to find it sweet and can only react by biting his tongue harder.

“You haven't changed much” you begin. He can't help the grimace he shows as the annoyance in his chest grows. He catches how you straighten up under it.

“And you have” he answers back. You say nothing for a long moment and he isn't sure if he offended you or not. But he watches as you take a deep breath, your face hardening in a way he doesn't like.

“I know this isn't exactly…great for you. But it isn't for me either-”

“Why’d you leave?” the words slip out of his mouth before they had even been a thought in his head. Yet where he expected a look of anger or annoyance of your own, you only pause. And soon after, your look manages to grow colder.

“Because you didn't love me anymore” you answer back succinctly, calmly. He feels rage bloom in his chest at the words.

“Bullshit” he mutters through gritted teeth. He doesn't catch the sudden grip you hold on your cup and the way you slightly shake. But other than that you don't break.

“I must have phrased that wrong” there's a tone in your voice, an inflection of something horrible on your tongue.

“You did a piss poor job of making me feel like I was anything other than your fucking bed warmer” your words fall like acid on him. They soak through his marrow and into his bloodstream and become him. And his body rejects it just as quickly.

“You knew the type’a job I had when you met me” his voice is low and restrained as he tries to hold himself back

“It had nothing to do with your work-”

“Well what the bloody hell did it have to do with then!?” He stands, his hands slamming on the table as you immediately flinch away.

“Sit-!” You yell almost instinctively, the only thing he catches is the sudden terror in your tone. You take a stilted breath before speaking again.

“Sit down…please” your voice is much calmer but it does a horrible job at hiding the hitch in your voice or how your subtle shaking suddenly isn't so subtle. The strange demeanor stuns him for a moment, long enough for his flash of frustration to cool back to a simmer. There's a horrible feeling that crawls up his spine at your reaction, this gnawing, biting disgust that rips through him in a way he can't quite explain. He listens despite its elusive source or how he hates the way your eyes are locked on his every movement.

A horrible quiet passes that only further smothers the flames that had grown in his chest. You both hardly took any sips of your coffee as you seemed focused on your breathing and he was focused on loosening the sudden tightness of his muscles. Soon enough he spoke again, though he wasn't about to attempt that conversation again, as unsatisfied as he was by your answer.

“Why are you here?” He asks and this time he finds that his voice is weaker than he'd have liked it; betraying the words that he had meant to sting.

Yet despite that, he watches as your breath pauses and your grip tightens. How had you managed to grow even more tense?

“I don't have anyone else left” you answered, your eyes finally missing him, flickering away for what was barely a single moment. In spite of how hard he fought against it the painful beating in his chest left him worried. He tried not to show it. He hoped he hid it well enough for you not to notice.

The silence seemed to get to you. That or his stare had. Either way you continued.

“I just need somewhere to stay. Just a few months. I’ll figure it out by then and be gone. Just long enough to get some cash together” you try to explain and finally he spots something familiar in you. But it is not a part of you he once knew that he sees. No, he spots something else.

“You’re running from something” he interjects at his realization, your movements freezing at his accusation. You don't seem shocked so much as worried. He hated that you would ever even try to hide the fact from him.

“Yeah um…I am- but it's- it's complicated okay? I just need somewhere to stay-”

“Is it someone?” He questioned, your words lips closing into quiet once more. It stings a strange part of his soul that you seemed so unwilling to tell him outright.

“...It doesn't matter” you finally speak and he hides how his fists tighten. He hates that he cares at all. He hates that he can't help it.

Your plea for shelter lingers in the air for moments longer than either of you cared for. You couldn't handle the quiet of that for long.

“I don't have much, but I'll give you what I can. I'll get a job and pay you back I-”

“No” he shut you down immediately. Your face fell, the desperation of your gaze fixed on him.

“You can stay and I don't need your money” he clarifies and despite the lack of smile, your relief is more than visible.

“Thank you. I promise I'll be gone as quickly as I can get everything in order” you try to instill any sort of confidence that you would be of little bother, that he would hardly notice you here at all.

He couldn't help but feel his stomach fall to his feet at the words.

The first month you stayed had been…surreal, to say the least. For the most part the two of you did pretty well with avoiding each other. For moments of the day he would even wonder if that had been some weird fever dream. You? At his door? After so long? It all just felt so strange. Stranger yet that the circumstances were all but ideal. He thought about asking further, about pushing for what it was that led you here and why you had even been running in the first place. But he found that his tongue nearly died in his mouth every time he saw you around. It almost didn't feel real.

And despite the cold that still ran up his spine, the emptiness that found refuge in his chest, the blood that sat heavy in his veins; despite it all…

You still felt like home.

Yet you were still so far out of reach. Words seemed like complicated equations, conversations like rocket science. His words never left the way he wanted them to, his tone always the wrong amount of harsh. And with the way your eyes tracked his presence when he was around, almost unwavering from him…it all just felt so hard to explain. Something had changed, of course it had. It had been years since you two had last seen each other and it had hardly ended on good terms. Still, there was something so wrong here. Something in the way you ever so slightly leaned from him, or the way your eyes flickered to the closest door, or how it all seemed so familiar in a way that wasn't like home. In a way that was more like the warzones he'd grown so accustomed to.

And he could just see it, that fight in your eyes. That twitchiness that you had never had around him before. And he couldn't help but wonder why. Why. Why. Why. Why. What were you fighting and why did it almost feel like it was him?

It was horrible, the way that question had finally been answered.

The front door had slammed open, startling him from the dinner he had been making and setting every one of his senses aflame. It slammed shut before he had even made it to the hall and when he had he could hardly bring himself to swallow the scene.

You stood pushing on the door like it would hold damn near the whole world at bay. With how violently you were shaking he almost wished it would. Your hiccups and sniffles filled the air as you tried and failed about a hundred times to turn the lock. Your clothes were disheveled, your jacket gone and your shirt caked in dirt and…

No, no that wasn't…

“Y/n?” He hardly even remembered opening his mouth before your name fell out. Quiet and worried in a way he hadn't meant to show.

When your head snapped to him all of his insides twisted in a sickly mess. Features he remembered days of leaving soft kisses on were now warped by deep bruises and bleeding wounds. Your eyes wide and glossy, your skin a mix of blood and tears. Your breath had hitched as if any movement would turn him against you. He couldn't help but feel worse at the notion. He moves. Just one simple step closer.

And suddenly it's as if a dam breaks. Your murmuring words he can't understand, a panic on your face he hadn't seen in all of the time he's known you. You yell and thrash and he can't tell if you even know what you're doing, he can't tell if you even see him anymore. His body almost acts on instinct as he quickly grabs the nearest cloth near him before making his way to you. He places the cloth in your hand, your body flinching in a way that makes him hesitate a moment before he guides you to cover your bleeding nose.

“You gotta breathe” he mutters, no longer attempting to cover the look of confused worry that covers him. You seem to try, but a bloody nose makes that a little difficult. In the meantime he guides you to the bathroom, sitting you down as he fishes out a medkit. You stop talking altogether at that point, going eerily silent.

And it stays that way as he wipes away the blood and around deeply forming bruises. It stays as he cleans the wounds and makes sure your nose isn't broken. It stays when the peroxide hits your skin and when the bandages cover them. It's a horrible, false silence. A silence so loud his ears ring, though that could have just as well been the adrenaline leaving his veins. For a while he's fine with it, for a while it's better than the terror-filled panic, for a while it's better than the way you stared and twitched and sobbed.

But then you get a look in your eye. A dangerous look. A look he's seen too many times in his line of work. And suddenly the quiet isn't so safe anymore.

“Still with me there?” He asks in an attempt to gain your attention. To his relief your eyes flick to him and nod. He doesn't quite like how quickly they had turned cold again. In fact he's sure he hates it.

“What happened?” He finally asks and watches how the distant look in your eyes dissolves. Your lips quiver as you try desperately to hold onto a calm that wasn't coming. Your hands grip tightly onto a bloodied paper towel in your hands.

“I-” your voice cracks and you clear your throat. Your eyes avoid him like a simple glance would kill you.

“It's complicated I-” the panic in your voice rises again.

“I have to go- John I have to go-”

“Now hold on” his hand lands on yours, your body tensing under his touch. He can't help but feel sickened at the thought of you scared of him.

“Whatever happened, I promise it's safe, alright? No one's getting in here. You're safe. Just…” he pauses for a moment, his eyes showing his hesitation before he, as gently as he's ever done anything in his life, he places your hand to his chest. Your fingers flatten against him, familiar and comforting, as he lets out a deep breath.

“Just breathe” he almost pleads, something he finds himself regretting almost immediately. Yet despite feeling that he was doing a horrible job, it seemed to calm you all the same. Much to his relief you managed a few deep breaths, your hand still pressed on his heartbeat that he forced to slow.

He is surprised, after all of this, to hear a faint laugh fall from your lips. Quiet and saddened yes, but a laugh nonetheless. And he couldn't have felt more ridiculous than at that moment.

“What?” Or perhaps it seems he could, his dumbfoundedness not hidden in the tone of his voice. It isn't hard for you to wipe the smile from your face, if it had even really been a smile at all.

“Nothing I just…I remember when I had to do this for you” your tone is bittersweet.

“I never thought I'd be on the other side” your voice is breathless and strained, a certain feeling behind it he couldn't quite place. He finds himself snickering along as the once painful memory hits him. He would agree. He never imagined someone strong enough to pull him back to reality could ever need him to do the same.

“Yeah…world's got a fucked up way of making circles” he replies and you give a half-hearted attempt at agreement. And it seems that a moment too soon you pull away and he feels almost as if you take his heartbeat with you.

“Yeah…Yeah, it does…” you murmur, a sentiment far too true found in the quiet whisper. There is almost silence until you speak again.

“I'm sorry” the apology falls in a way not meant to ever leave you. The sound was as sorrowful as seeing a bird stripped of its wings. An act against nature, a horrible twisting of what should be.

“I’m sorry” you break again, though this time you don't shatter so much as you crumble. And he knows then that those words aren't for him. That he hated how they sounded coming from you, how they weren't what he wanted, how he could only wish you'd take them back so that he didn't have to feel the hole in his chest trying to carve its way through his skin.

And how useless he felt then, sat in front of your broken state knowing that you had once done the same with him. How utterly and completely he knew that there was nothing he could do to wipe this looming, horrible terror that was held so deep in your eyes he could only see a warped reflection of himself in them.

And he simply couldn't handle it. He felt weak, hopeless, useless. But what was there to do? He had never seen you so truly pained, he had only ever known the other side of this situation.

So he did the only thing he could. He pulled you close, slow and cautious, before the both of you crashed into one another. Hands that had twitched at his mere presence now held him as tightly as the shirt on his back. As if, should you let go, you'd be cast adrift again into the crimson rapids. And he could only hold just as tightly, hoping that if he just held on tight enough that the falling parts of you would stay, that he might save even a single piece from the agony you were lost in a sea of.

You two stayed like that for a long while, hardly caring about that time that passed. At some point, so overtaken by the exhaustion of your endless bouts of tears and the near-death experience you'd just endured, you'd passed out in his arms.

And like some cruel twisting of a memory he held dear, he carried you to bed. He tried not to glance too much at your features, the cuts and bruises sending sickening waves through him, as he laid you down. He took a shaky breath as he covered you in a blanket, taking care to be quiet as he left the room.

In the absence of your presence there was only rage.

A fire unlike any he had felt struck him like lightning, a burning hatred at who could have ever done this to you. His feet moved but his mind was preoccupied with who and why and- god why didn't you just tell him what happened? What could have ever led to this?! What had you done? Who had you upset?

The thoughts plagued his mind as he set up his spot on the couch. Yet when the pillows had been laid and the blanket placed, he could not find it in himself to rest. He could only pace and snarl and burn with such a horrible feeling. How dare they. How dare they. How could anyone do this to you? To his-...

It was only those final words that managed to slow his thoughts, a sinking feeling resting in his chest.

Not his. You were not his. Not for a long while, not anymore…

But there was no hiding the fire in his skin. No denying how deeply he held you, how desperately he wished to never let go again. He could only curse whatever higher power could hear him. Curse them for ever doing this to either of you. Of ever letting him know your name.

It was a horrible pain to want so desperately to have you back, but there was no pain worse than you returning in broken pieces. Worse yet to know that, maybe, had he done things differently, you might not have left his arms to shatter against a world he could have protected you from. To know that he failed.

He lit a cigar with a shaky hand. He knew then that there would be no sleeping tonight.

Your eyes were heavy as they opened, protesting against your attempts to wake up. You thought, in your groggy state, that it might be better to never open them again, to give in to what they demanded from you. To close them a final time.

But it was only a passing thought in your utterly exhausted state. A whisper held at the back of your mind just waiting for the moment that it might scream itself into existence. But not today. Not now, at least.

And so you forced them open, a groan halfheartedly falling from your lips as you pushed away the comfort of infinite dark. You managed enough strength to sit up, regretting it almost immediately when a dull pain burned your side. You would have been confused, maybe even a little worried, if not for the returning throbs of the many cuts along your face and arms that swiftly and brutally remind you of yesterday.

So close. You had been so close to the end. You were lucky to have made it out alive. It was honestly a miracle you had.

Cornered, like an animal. You remembered the feeling well. Trapped right where you didn't want to be. It was like he could smell your terror as he bared his wolfish teeth in the warm street light. A wicked smile, one that scorched itself into an unhealthy scar upon you. Never to be forgotten, a thing of nightmares.

You had run as far as you could go, lungs empty and feet sore, your hands covered in the warmth of your own blood as you tried to hold even just a part of yourself together, to manage to escape through the skin of your teeth once more. You had done it before, but a second time was surely a test of fate.

You had been lucky, then, that a bus was passing by. It shouldn't have been there so late so far out of town. But by some higher being or just through the world's sick way of fucking with you it was. You had never been so relieved to be met with headlights in your life; you practically screamed in relief as you waved it down. Your hunter was as scared as a doe in them, slithering off into the shadows like the coward you knew him as. The driver, a woman in her forties, looked horrified at the state of you. But you had brushed off her panic and worry and told her to simply drive. You were thankful the bus was empty. You couldn't have handled anyone else's questions in your utter panic.

You had only been a five-minute drive from salvation, from the home you had long since abandoned, only to return to in your time of need. Five minutes.

He must have known. Someone might have told him or you might have mentioned John in one of your many pain-filled benders. It didn't matter. He knew where you were, and it seemed his patience had only grown thinner. You were sure now that he would not stop with breaking you under his iron grip, but utterly destroying you.

All at once these thoughts hit you, flooding your mind with panic and worry. You're breathing shallowed as your mind falls down this path, stopping only when the end of the memory comes to mind.

John…

You tried to move him from your mind, to rid yourself of the sinking feeling that came when you thought of how quickly he had jumped to help you, even after years of silence and weeks of ignoring each other. You try not to think of his attempts at gentle touch, calloused battle-worn hands not quite built for the kindness he was showing. You remove from your mind how he held your hand to him, how it seemed like no time had passed from when you left with how quickly he knew what would truly calm you. And most of all, you try to remove the feeling of his arms around you, desperate and worried and familiar and home. You try, as little as that means nowadays.

You deduce that sitting in silence isn't the best way to distract you from these things, and so you finally stand from the bed, noting only then that you don't remember falling asleep here. But you let that slip your mind as well. You prefer the static buzz of being busy over thinking too much about any of this. It only made things harder.

So your feet moved without you, intimately familiar with the halls and doors and light switches. After all, it had been your home, once upon a lifetime ago.

You hardly stagger as you make your way to the kitchen, accustomed to the constant lull of pain in the back of your mind. A whisper of its own, and one you realized it better to ignore.

You are close to allowing the static buzz to take over, close to numbing and leaving your brain on autopilot. Close to the preferable numbness. So very close. But upon taking a step into the kitchen, you are met with a sight so twistedly familiar you are shocked back into yourself.

John sat at the table, two plates laid out and coffee poured. A quaint scene, an old one. A memory from a different time, faded and aged and different in ways that leave you sick. Because he didn't stare with the complete adoration of a man in love, nor did his eyes avert, distracted and tired, as they had on the day you had left him here. But instead they tear through you. Locked on you the second you entered. It amazed you how his eyes of crystal blue, so similar to that of a frozen storm, could burn through you so easily.

You think for a moment that this is it. That he's going to kick you out with only a final meal and that you are going to be thrown to the starved wolf you knew lurked just outside. You prepared yourself to plead, to apologize, to ask for any bit of mercy he might show you. After all, you had lost your dignity a long time ago, and it wouldn't be the first time you had begged for your life.

But then, as if the elements of himself collided, the fire in his eyes cooled to a warm glow. Soft and familiar and warm, warm, warm.

You almost wished then that he'd return to his fiery glare.

“Sit, love” It isn't a command as much as a quiet plea, his voice is soft and calm and maybe even worried, a rare combination for him. It's a sound so foreign now that you almost don't trust it. His expression falls further as you hesitate.

“I just wanna talk” he tried to explain, to give you any reason to trust him. It works, though only barely. You take a hesitant seat across from him.

The smell of the food hits your nose and only then do you realize you hadn't eaten last night. The waft of coffee only seems to make things worse as it reminds you of how tired you are.

“We can eat first” you can't tell if it's a question or a statement, but either way you take the opportunity. You were too weak to deny how much you needed this right now. You would regret it later, you were sure, but for right now you would allow yourself this small indulgence.

And so it was quiet, absent the sound of forks hitting plates. Quiet in a way that you weren't sure if you liked or despised. You wondered if it even mattered.

It was a few bites in and halfway through your coffee that he spoke again.

“I saw a butterfly this morning” his words cut the silence in a way that baffles you out of the static once more. Out of your head and your thoughts and the sinking feeling in your chest.

“Oh?” You respond almost too naturally, almost too much like you used to. If it weren't for the heaviness in your voice, you might have even forgotten that this wasn't like it used to be.

“Yeah. Should’ve seen it. It had all your favorite colors” his words are almost light in spite of the tense atmosphere and, despite it all, it manages the smallest smile from you.

“I’m sure it was beautiful” you reply and watch as the look on his face changes. You can't quite read it, a strange softness is all you can take from it. But there never fails to be that lingering sadness there. That worry. That pain you can't quite bring yourself to address. And so you look away, your eyes turned down to your food once more.

The silence that follows threatens to suffocate the two of you, drown you in this horrible replication of better times, and punish you for daring to seek even this small comfort. And so, knowing that there is only one way this will go, he finally asks.

“What happened last night?” You feel your throat tighten almost immediately, not daring to pick up your fork when the weight of that question falls atop you. You find it hard to give him an answer, let alone one that might satisfy him.

“I…It’s…” you struggle and hope that maybe you might just disappear, that maybe all of this was some horrible nightmare you'd wake from. But as seconds passed it became clear it wasn't. Clearer still that you had to give him an answer after what he'd seen.

“It's complicated” you try to explain but you knew the moment the words fell that they wouldn't be enough. You think that maybe he'll be angry at this, that he'll slam the table like he had before and demand a better explanation. But a glance shows that his expression only deepens in its worry.

“Then explain it to me” he pleads once more. It was a rare day he ever pleaded, begged, or even so much as asked for something. Rarer yet that it's genuine. Your mouth goes dry and silence remains. You can't bring yourself to look at him.

“Love-” his hand reached for yours and the contact shocks every nerve in your body. You flinch away from him, regretting it a moment later when his worry turns to pain on his face. He retracts his hand with the most hesitance you've ever seen from him; a man so usually sure of himself.

“I just need to know what's happening. I-...” he falters, another rare sight. He takes a shaky breath.

“I won't hurt you” those words come out stronger than the rest, as truthful as he could have possibly made them. And, despite its softness, it seems to tear apart the very walls you had built to keep you safe.

But safe from what, exactly? When the wolf lays outside, and this place is your final sanctuary, what does that make him? You weren't quite sure, but somehow you knew that whatever this was, it felt…well it felt familiar at least. A devil you knew well enough to find some comfort in the warmth of.

Your head turns away, arms held against you in a pitiful attempt to comfort yourself. You think, for a moment, that you might run from here. That you might leave everything behind in the wake of the words that threaten to leave your tongue.

But he wants the truth. And who are you to deny him it? It couldn't make things much worse than they already are.

“Where do you even want me to start?” You ask him, voice hollow and cold and empty. There was no more of yourself to give than a story. You wondered if the sacrifice would even matter.

“Wherever you need to” he answers back, his shoulders squared: tense. You had half a mind to comfort him, but you doubt it would've helped. So, with a deep breath that does very little to calm your nerves, you finally answer him.

“When I left I didn't want to start over, but I didn't want to see you again either. So I moved a few towns over” you started, your voice detached from yourself, like it came from someone else entirely.

“A few months later I met someone. He had been so kind at first. Loving, attentive. He made me feel like I existed in the world again. Made me feel wanted” your words murmur and a snarl forms, even talking about it makes you sick.

“I was stupid, blinded, didn't pay attention. Didn't care, really…” you pause, your hands indenting into your skin as if to keep you where you sat, as if to stop you from fading from here.

“I married him” your words come out much more mournful than you mean to, your snarl nothing more than a quivered lip now. You had married that monster.

You didn't have to glance at John to know the look on his face. Anger, rage, a twisted form of jealousy. It was a knife to his back, you imagine, that you might have married another man before he had ever put a ring on your finger. But you weren't quite sure you cared anymore. After all, it wasn't you who had been so cold to him those final days you were together.

“I didn't realize who he was until then. He'd always been…rough. Arrogant, quick-tempered, prone to violence. But I guess I just thought that he wouldn't ever treat me like that. That I was different. That he loved me” your words shake and you do your best to pull those broken strings together. To steel yourself. To not be so pathetic.

“I was wrong…” you allow yourself the pain of those three words and in so scar your heart further as you admit it. He had never loved you.

“I tried to get away, I tried to start over again, but he wouldn't let me leave. I can't get a job without him finding me, can't get a place to stay, can't start over. I thought maybe if I came here, maybe if my name wasn't on anything, maybe if I was careful enough then I could figure it out…I was wrong about that too” you curse yourself when tears sting at you. You do your best to hide it, to disappear in front of his own eyes. But there was only so much you could do. Hiding from him had never been your strong suit.

John feels…well he doesn't quite know. A mixture of everything horrible, he thinks. He can't stand how your eyes avoid him as the words fall, how with each passing word he can only find regret. Regret that he hadn't held you closer, that he hadn't kept you safe. And he hates that the consequences don't fall to him, that he wasn't the one burned, that instead he watches you crumble and break and shatter. He had loved you, he had always loved you. That hole in his heart, that void you filled. Ripped from him and torn apart as swiftly as a flower in a stormy ocean. He hardly had the mind to blame you anymore, hardly had the heart to. He could do nothing but blame himself and the cruel creature he could hardly call human. The one who had dared to lay a finger on you. The one he could imagine tearing apart with his bare hands.

There are questions that circle his brain, words that travel from the top of his head and almost meet his tongue. ‘What’s his name?’ ‘Where can I find him?’ ‘How long had this been happening?’ ‘Why hadn't you said something sooner?’

He lets out a shallow breath, his eyes closing in thought for only a short moment before he stands. The sound of the chair startles you into watching him once more. His steps are slow, and deliberate, as they make their way towards you. You lean away for a moment, as you had since you'd gotten here, but it calms as you watch him. His movement is predictable; safe.

And soon, just as slow and just as softly, his hands fall on your face as they had hundreds of times before. Calloused but warm, a softness he only ever found with you. He is gentle along your bruises, careful with them. You can't look from him now, eyes searing through him. But he had nothing to hide, and so he stared back.

“We're gonna figure this out” he speaks to you, words like comforting slashes against your soul in how they tear your emotions from you. Your attempts to hide were all but vain now, tears falling freely and only barely held from a sob. Your breaths shake as your eyes close into the comfort, hands falling onto his as if he might just slip away. He presses a kiss, hesitant yet desperate against the crown of your head.

“He ain't ever hurting you again” his words are a promise as he mumbles them against your skin before placing his head against yours. You make no attempt to pull away, instead finding that a broken smile falls on your lips, one of utter relief. Somehow you find a will to speak.

“I missed you”

Potential part two? Maybe? Probably? Definitely?

#call of duty x reader #john price x reader #gender neutral reader #tw: violence #tw: mentions of depressive and suicidal thoughts #tw: heavily implied domestic abuse #tw: blood #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #john price #john price mw2 #john price mw2 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw3 #captain price #call of duty

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ryker-writes · 1 year

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i just remembered reading ur pome siblings post and oh my god please if you have the time and motivation, write an angsty version of vils part! its so interesting to explore his potential sibling relationship rgsfbyddnr

absolutely! I feel like a lot of the dorm leaders could have a broken and angsty relationship with their siblings, Vil just was the first one that popped up in my head

warning: Book 5 spoilers

Vil as a sibling (Broken relationship edition)

the Schoenheit family was not an easy family to live in

that became very clear early on in your childhood

your father was a very famous celebrity that did a lot of modeling and acting

and he really wanted you and Vil to do the same

the two of you would be signed up for many roles and auditions in anything

even if you didn't want to, you had to

sometimes you two would be so busy that you didn't have time to just relax and play with other kids

half of the time you and Vil wouldn't get roles in the same thing and you wouldn't even see each other

even just being in the Schoenheit family was enough to get a spotlight on you and your life

you grew up with eyes on you at all times

eyes that criticized every little thing you did

if you tripped, made a slip of the tongue, or even got slightly upset you would be criticized

but you wouldn't only be criticized by the public, but also by your father

he would lecture you on how to act at all times until you got it right

until it became second nature

it was a constant demand for you to be perfect

and you had no choice but to do what they all say

it was either do what they say or be shamed by society and your own family

so you did everything you could to be perfect

to not let the public ever see a single flaw and to be considered beautiful

Vil often helped you with this too by giving you pointers

as you grew up you became very good at it and so did Vil

you two were both well established celebrities by the time you entered Night Raven College

the both of you ended up in Pomefiore together of course

Pomefiore is the dorm that values beauty

you and Vil often talk since you two are in the same dorm

it actually felt nice to talk to Vil about school things instead of new roles or similar things

at first it was fine

you even met his friend Rook, and found out he was a fan of yours and Vil's

but then he started pushing you away and talked to you less

he always said he had important things to do and didn't have time

he couldn't completely ignore you though so there would be times he would still hang out with you

while you may have liked to spend time with your brother, Vil hated it

there he was with the ultimate goal of being the most beautiful

and there you were, not even trying to be the most beautiful, but the other students talked about you being beautiful and perfect and even debated which one of you was more beautiful

the answer should be obvious right?

but now he not only had Neige as rival, but you too

and when you had a new post on magicam or a new role in something, he would check to see who was currently the most beautiful

he absolutely hates when it says your name

it's one thing for it to be someone else but for his own family to be better than him?

especially after he helped you when you were younger

and he gets so angry when he thinks about it

but he never shows that anger

in fact he acts very nice when he is around you

it's when he's alone in the privacy of his room that he'll let the anger show on his face

for just a single second, the thought of poisoning you crosses his mind

the Evil Queen did that, and she's his role model after all

but he would have a moment of rationality after that

he couldn't do that. you were his sibling

but you were also competition

so maybe he couldn't poison you, but he could do something else

when Vil did hang out with you, he would always point out some small thing about you that was out of place

even if you had everything together, he would find something to criticize

afterwards he would always make a comment about how you should be careful because your actions reflect on him and your father

sometimes he would even give you a backhanded compliment or when he was especially angry, he would straight up insult you and claim he's trying to help you

everything he says slowly chips away at your confidence

and it hurts even more to come from your own brother, someone who helped you become who you are

once upon a time he was someone you could look up to

if you started slipping up more in public, he would be happy

unless...somehow people enjoyed that because it was cute or a reminder that you're human

at that point he's furious and it's getting harder to hide

Rook started noticing too

sometimes you could be hanging out with Vil and Rook will come along and tell you someone else wants to talk with you

he basically separates you two in hopes Vil will calm down

through this repeating process, the distance between you and Vil grows greater by the day

an unspoken hatred and sense of competition is hard to miss

and the one person who you're supposed to be able to rely on at NRC, absolutely hates you

Somewhat happy ending:

after Vil overblots, he has time to reflect on his actions the past few months

he does realize that the way he treated you was rather ugly

and he will personally apologize to you

he'd be lying if he said that people claiming you were more beautiful didn't bother him anymore

it still does, but it doesn't make him as angry

he tries to spend time with you to actually genuinely spend time with you instead of tearing you down

it can be a bit...strange at first

but give him time and he will start to come around more

he's really trying to be nicer to you and try to fix what he's done

but is it too late? has too much damage been done? is it even possible to fix it?

the choice is up to you

will you forgive him?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst vil #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #twst vil x reader #vil x reader #pomefiore #pomefiore x reader

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accio-victuuri · 4 months

Text

xiao zhan - GQ February issue cover story 1-3

01 Relaxation

The studio is on the Huangpu River in Shanghai. Xiao Zhan was wrapped in a black down jacket, took off his shoes, and sat cross-legged on the corner of the sofa, looking very relaxed. The filming came to an end for the time being. Although he had been working continuously for more than 7 hours, there was no trace of fatigue on his face. This is a face that always attracts attention. A few months ago, the studio released a set of Xiao Zhan's birthday photos, and sharp-eyed netizens immediately noticed that his face had become "rounder." In order to play the role of Guo Jing in the movie "The Legend of the Condor Heroes" directed by Tsui Hark, Xiao Zhan gained weight before joining the cast. His cheeks were no longer so thin, and his figure was obviously stronger. In the photo, he had Wearing Hu hawthorn children, it shows a bit of vicissitudes of life.

Strictly speaking, "The Legend of the Condor Heroes: The Greatest Man" is Xiao Zhan's second filmmaking. There are many previous versions of the character Guo Jing, and the pressure on him is obvious.

On the day of the cover shoot for "GQ", Xiao Zhan got up very early to go for a run. He couldn't help but think, my god, I'm going to lose muscle again after sweating so much. He debated whether to continue, and finally decided to run for 30 minutes. When the time came, he thought that body fat would start to be consumed after 30 minutes, so he ran for another 10 minutes.

It's all about work. "Actually, I don't want to run. running will lose muscles, but I have to run to reduce swelling." After the filming, he planned to do weight training again no matter how late it was. An actor's self-cultivation is to be ready to shape the image for the role at any time, but he must strictly control his diet and manage his body shape. Xiao Zhan regards both as professional standards and requires himself to do so.

Before meeting, I thought Xiao Zhan would be very cautious about interviews. To my surprise, Xiao Zhan had a rare sense of relaxation, answered all questions, and even had some humor. Mentioning that actors should observe characters in life, he commented on the sitting postures of several people present. When asked what he had not expected after joining the industry, his answer was that he could not eat whatever he wanted like his high school classmates.

The interview lasted nearly two hours. I was curious. In the past few years, Xiao Zhan has been under huge attention. What kind of experience has it been for him?

Xiao Zhan said that many times, he has forgotten this matter. It didn't cause him a lot of trouble in life. The most "cruel" thing may be, "You can't eat as much as you want." "

I still sneak out to ride a bicycle, take a walk, and do a CityWalk. Only once, just now in after walking in the alley for 5 minutes, I was recognized. I also sneaked into the cinema to watch a movie. No one will care about you, really. after leaving the Internet, many things will be solved easily. Sometimes the world is right in front of us.

He has a lot of things he wants to do, such as taking the subway and going to the mall. "I will really take the subway, maybe tomorrow. It's so normal. I used to do it every day. Take the subway." For Xiao Zhan, this is his real life. The voices on social media no longer bother him. "After all these years, I'm still bothered. Am I still alive? (Laughs) It's really okay."

At this stage, Xiao Zhan is very satisfied with his living situation, " I have a job, a life of my own, and an audience that likes me, so I have nothing to be dissatisfied with."

02 Becoming an actor

To some extent, Xiao Zhan’s sense of relaxation stems from his increasingly clear goals. The voices from the outside world no longer bothered him. He knew what he wanted and what he didn't want. Now, he is doing more subtraction for himself. In the past two years, he has rarely appeared in variety shows, taking the career of actor as his most important goal at the moment.

In 2023, three film and television dramas starring Xiao Zhan will be broadcast, and each role will be a challenge for Xiao Zhan. During the interview, Xiao Zhan said many times that he was "under a lot of pressure", and he said this almost when reviewing every stage. But his tone is light, without the heaviness of complaints, more like an analysis and summary afterwards. The reasons are often specific and objective: the first time he comes into contact with a performance without physical objects, the first time he takes the leading role alone, the first time he plays a modern drama...

"Where Dreams Begin" is a script that Xiao Zhan particularly likes. He likes stories about that generation very much. When he was a child, he watched some movies and TV series, such as "Days Related to Youth" and "Happiness Like Flowers". When he mentioned the 1970s and 1980s, he felt that the sun was bright and colorful. Many people say that Xiao Chunsheng is a perfect character, but in Xiao Zhan's opinion, this is his biggest flaw. He thinks this character is very interesting and wants to give it a try. Xiao Chunsheng is a young man from Beijing. How to express the character's momentum and speak authentic Beijing dialect is a big challenge for Xiao Zhan, who has lived in Chongqing since childhood.

Shiying's character in "Yuguyao" is aloof. Because he didn't want to live up to everyone's expectations for his costume look, Xiao Zhan tried his best to lose weight before joining the cast. ""Yuguyao" is a script I got in 2020. Among the things I can choose, this is the script with the most complete characters and the most delicate emotions. It is also very logical and self-consistent. It is my The best choice."

"Sunshine By My Side" is the script that Xiao Zhan has been exposed to for the longest time, starting at the end of 2019. Although Sheng Yang in "Sunshine By My Side" closely overlapped with Xiao Zhan's career before his debut, he had to move his life as a designer to the screen and act in a natural and convincing manner. "Modern dramas and life dramas are really an unfamiliar field." At first, he was too eager to finish his lines and memorized them so well that when he said them, it made people think that no one in life would speak like this. Later, he discovered that in modern dramas, The logic of where to break the lines and where to put the emphasis is actually very strong.

In the past few years, he has played soldiers, doctors, designers, and Beijing youths. "There are no special considerations, it all happens naturally." He rarely plays repeated roles. But when choosing a script, Xiao Zhan will not deliberately avoid themes that he has acted in before. He will just put himself in the audience's perspective to feel whether he can be moved by it.

In 2021, Xiao Zhan starred in the drama "A Dream Like a Dream", playing the role of Patient No. 5. On the day of the premiere, many topics related to the drama appeared on Weibo hot searches, becoming a phenomenon-level event in the drama circle.

Xiao Zhan hesitated for a long time about starring in "A Dream Like a Dream". There are many reasons for hesitation: he is from Chongqing, not from a professional background, the play cannot be negative, it lasts for 8 hours, "A Dream Like a Dream" is very famous, and there have been many classic versions of the role of Patient No. 5 before. But after reading the script, Xiao Zhan felt that he must act.

Drama is a very pure thing. Dozens or even hundreds of people gather in a space to tell a story. This is an experience that is impossible to bring about in film and television dramas. Xiao Zhan yearns for it. He began to recite his lines crazily, and moved himself to Tangshan to rehearse intensively with the entire crew for more than a month, grinding out one scene after another.

"I was very nervous for the first performance. I am still nervous now when I think about it. When Gu Xianglan rang the bell, I became excited." The moment the light hit him, Xiao Zhan felt that everything had stopped. He could not see the expressions of the audience under the stage. There was only white left in front of me.

Xiao Zhan adjusted his breathing and began to speak his lines. The director said that the actors in the opening scene controlled the rhythm of the entire story, so every time Xiao Zhan said that line, it was when Xiao Zhan was most nervous. As he spoke, he would gradually forget about his nervousness and let out a long sigh of relief after speaking. I thought, ah, it’s finally over.

Once, at the end of the first half of the performance, Patient No. 5 went on stage to find Gu Xianglan with a painting and an address, and had a long monologue. Walking to the middle of the stage, Xiao Zhan suddenly lost his voice. He couldn't remember the beginning of the next word. After hesitating for about 1.5 seconds, he chose to skip that word and continued. The audience shouldn't be able to tell, he thought. He didn't think of that word until the end of the show.

"I couldn't remember it when I got to the break room, so I turned over the script and saw that it was this word."

"Which word?"

"A very common word, for example, drinking pure water. What kind of water was I thinking about? Distilled water? Tap water? Boiled water ? I just can’t remember." Xiao Zhan replied.

Acting is a very profound knowledge. Xiao Zhan said: "We have only scratched the surface so far." When filming "Sunshine By My Side", the opposing actors were all experienced actors. In terms of acting skills, Xiao Zhan is still very immature and exerts all his strength. Too much force will easily leave performance marks. He told himself to "be less pretentious", feel everything the other party throws at him with his heart, and respond honestly.

Xiao Zhan once expressed that due to life experiences, it is difficult to understand many characters. He discussed this issue with his seniors, "Everyone has two opinions. Some people say that of course you have to go through it. Without experience, you don't have a picture. How can you act? What you act is all fake. Also there is a voice saying that everything can be solved by technology."

Xiao Zhan's own answer is, "act more and be exposed to all types of genres" and "cooperate with more good teams, actors, and directors."

"To be honest, what I can do now is to act what my mind can touch. It's really difficult for me to act something that I have no concept of at all. Maybe in the future, through a work or with more good directors, Working with actors can solve my confusion. I look forward to this day coming soon."

03 Breaking away

Relaxation is the side of Xiao Zhan. He can balance part of the pressure, but there is part of it that is difficult for him to resolve. Xiao Zhan doesn't sleep well. "It's very difficult for me to fall asleep, and I sleep very lightly. It's like sleeping and not sleeping, which affects my state the next day." Especially when he just joined the team and is in a state of high nervousness. In this state, he often dreams about filming on location and not being able to do it well.

When he goes to different cities, Xiao Zhan will bring the same type of pillows and quilts. "I will bring everything that can help me sleep well." He has also tried aromatherapy lamps, lavender essential oil, and various other products that make him fall asleep when applied on his body. Medicines, sprays that can be sprayed on the pillow to make him fall asleep, melatonin, and meditation music. Finally, he found that the best things that made him sleep well were eye masks, earplugs, and not looking at the phone, "because I know that if I look at it, then I will Don't sleep, just get up."

Not long ago, Xiao Zhan found an old book "Departure" at home. That was recommended to him by his company boss when he was working as a designer. The concept of organizing life described in the book made Xiao Zhan start to rethink what he wanted and what he should give up.

Xiao Zhan has a particularly axial side to his character, "If I insist on something that I think is right, it will be difficult to be convinced." For example, if he decides to be an actor, he doesn't want to do anything other than an actor, " Come on, let's debate. No one is right or wrong. The team is also for your own good. Isn't it a good thing to have a lot of work? But for me, I have to subtract because some things are really not what I want. "

Xiao Zhan's acting experience began with a story about "an older amateur chasing dreams in the entertainment industry." He participated in the talent show at the age of 24, learned dance from scratch, debuted as a boy band, acted in online dramas, and played supporting roles in theater movies. Until he became popular in 2019, Xiao Zhan also became a star that attracted attention.

When you decide to do something, you must try your best to do it well. This is what Xiao Zhan has been taught since childhood. When he was in junior high school, his family bought him a mobile phone. When he first started sending text messages, he often used spaces to replace punctuation marks. His father said to him sternly, "What about the punctuation marks? Why is there no period at the end of the sentence?" From that time on, Xiao Zhan paid great attention to punctuation marks.

Xiao Zhan has been competitive since he was a child, and he doesn't want to miss any opportunity when it comes to things he can control. When he was taking the bus to school, he would worry about the person on the bus who missed the stop because he fell asleep.

For things that he cannot control, he will remind himself not to argue and learn to accept them. Until then, do what you can.

When asked which drama Xiao Zhan worked hard for, Xiao Zhan's answer was surprising. He said: "Every one." Before becoming famous, he auditioned for many dramas and went through interviews to enter the final round. , I had already put on makeup to try out the scene, but was replaced. Of course, scripts will be handed over now, but Xiao Zhan always tells himself that people only have intentions and can hand them over to many people at the same time. When he encounters something he really likes, he will take the initiative to meet with the director and explain his understanding of the character.

#xiao zhan #this is already late cause i wanted the q&a translated asap hahahahahahaha #accio victuuri translation #and i went out to have fun lol #happy weekend everyone! i’m doing weekend earlier ☺️☺️☺️

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dearasteria · 10 months

Text

Major Gale romance SPOILERS below, so please DO NOT read and watch if you don't want to get spoiled.

I was REALLY worried about how romance with Gale would go, especially after talking to him right after he gets Karsas' book. My Tav wanted to believe and trust him, but something didn't feel right. At the end of Act II, when Tav tries to convince him not blow himself up for his ex's forgivness/to save Faerûn, it can be summed up with that one gif from Grey's Anatomy: "So pick me. Choose me. Love me" 🤡. Honestly, she asks not only to choose her, but also not to kill her and the rest of the team. Gale is so easily swayed and tells Tav that he loves her, even more than Mystra. Tav should be happy, right? But I'm like WAIT A DAMN MINUTE, it was faaar too easy, I mean, no protests from him, I didn't even have to use persuasion to convince him. At that point, after the trauma that Bioware had caused us with Anders and Solas, I'm getting paranoid. Gale doesn't love Tav, he's definitely hiding something. But I'm thinking to myself, "Okay, calm down, he just doesn't want to die, super understable. Maybe he really loves her and he needed to hear it? He needed reassurance that he has something to live for? Yes, it must be it". But then I go to the quest journal and see this:

DAMMIT GALE, you snake 🐍 My poor baby Tav (especially since the romance scene in Waterdeep was so warm and tender). She's so in love in him. Now I'm convinced that he will definetly betrey us, stubs us right in the heart.

At the beginning of Act III, he becomes obsessed with a book called The Annals of Karsus that may help him learn more about the crown. He becomes obsessed with how powerful he can become. When Tav gives him the book and says, "We already know the crown's dangerougs. Wouldn't that make things worse?" he replies:

"Worse? It could be the best thing that ever happened to me. To us."

After all this, Gale tries to convince Tav to help him reconstruct the crown. We have this beautiful scene on the boat and when I tell you my jaw dropped. HE CHOOSES TAV, listens to her concerns and simply chooses her.

The way he says it, the way he corrects himself… damn. For Tav, it's like a bucket of cold water. And I'm like, "Here we go again" 🤡

Furthermore, when we visit the Stormshore Tabernacle in Baldur's Gate and interact with Mystra's statue, he seems to feel so uncomfortable, he doesn't want to be there. Tav starts to think he's definitely hiding something. She would like to hear Mystra's version of what happened between her and Gale (I hope we can talk to her at some point in the game, it would be very interesting).

My Tav, however, disagreed, and Gale replies, "I hope you're right. I truly do. Godly power, perhaps I can live without, but you? You're everything". Has the curse of dating mages that leave players heartbroken been broken?

But I have to admit, when he said: "With you, I forget my goddess. I love you. Tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you want what I want. Please" - OH GODS 😳. I was so close to agreeing to this madness. The VA did an amazing job (side note: so many talented VAs in this game, it's mind blowing), the writing is amazing, the music is incredible, I was blown away, really.

Next day, after the boat scene, he's so adorable and full of love for Tav. Then I remembered his gratest flaw (for me it's more like his biggest fear) from the scene with Zethino in the circus: "He thinks he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead". At the time I thought he was lying, manipulating Zethino and his answers. My distrust of mages in games… Yes, I have a problem 😅

I haven't finished the game, but I have high hopes for a happy ending. No spoilers please, thanks :)

What a rollecoster of emotions, I love it, I love Gale. It felt like I was playing Dragon Age: Origins for the first time, way back when I was a teenager. It's really insane how this game makes me feel, how much I care about its characters and story.

EDIT: Okay, so we have an audience with Mystra, I mean only Gale, but we see the whole conversation between them. My only complain is that Gale doesn't mention Tav when Mystra asks him why he defied her 💔 The outcomes are different depending on whether you do it before or after the boat scene. Personally, I think doing the boat scene before meeting Mystra is much better. I get the impression that Gale is abandoning the plan to reconstruct the crown solely for Tav and his love for her. And the drama 👌🏻 it gives me life.

#sorry for the wall of text #ignore my rambling #the thing is i'm very excited and none of my friends play bg3 and my husband can't listen to me anymore 🤭#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #Gale #gale of waterdeep #gale romance #might delete later #Tav #gale bg3

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bluesky-kitty · 1 year

Text

Kai Anderson x fem reader || angst, fluff||

“Then it’s got you.”

tw-self-harm, abuse, toxic relationship

"Divine Ruler I have something for you." a female annoying voice said. Kai's eyes were on Meadow's now.

"We have a cult meeting in 30 minutes can it wait" He spoke without expecting an answer.

“This is important, and I need you now.”

Kai closed his laptop and looked at the blonde.

"So..what's the problem?"

"y/n."

The shedding of blood in Kai's body stopped for a moment.

Kai and you have been dating for 6 years, but no one knows except Winter.

You saw many versions of him during that time, but you never left him.

Kai didn't want anyone to know. You were his weak spot and anyone who would go against him would use you.

You two were careful, you didn't even sleep in the same rooms, you looked at each other with cold eyes in front of others just because of the cult.

Whenever someone talked bad about Kai behind his back, you would tell him. That was your code of keeping.

"She's in the kitchen."

She said hurriedly as they passed through the hall. He couldn't even imagine what it was about.

Maybe some stupid fight? You didn’t like Meadow, she didn’t like you either.

Your eyes were on the door as Meadow and Kai stood there. You could see the confusion on Kai's face as he walked unsteadily into the room.

“Can you move away from the sink?” spoke Meadow.

“Okay.” you said calmly as you moved away.

“Take off your clothes.” this sentence left you shocked.

“What? I’m not doing that.”

“Come on, just shirt” you knew what she was talking about but you thought she didn’t see them.

“Can somebody tell me what the shit is going on?”

Kai’s loud voice interrupted conversation.

“She’s so weak and broken! She hurts herself!

“No i don’t hurt myself.”

hurts herself?

Something in Kai was taking his air. Your beloved looked at you with empathy and anger in his eyes. You quickly rolled up your sleeves and showed your wrists. “See?!” Kai sighed silently, but not for long.

You were aware of what you were doing and successfully had smooth and clean wrists.

“What about stomach?” Shit! This woman is God’s punishment for world. You just wanted to disappear.

Kai came up to you with disappointment on his face. “Shirt. Off.”

”She doesn’t deserve to be in a cult if she’s a mental case. What if one day she kills herself and blames someone else for that?”

“Don’t do this to me. Why do you believe her?” You asked with teary eyes. His face with same cold.

“Come on show him your scars already!“

“Meadow! Get out, this is enough.”

“I just think-“

“Get the fuck out!”

His screams made you flinch. Meadow was gone and you two were alone. You'd be lying if you said you weren't afraid of him.

He immediately grabbed your shirt and twisted it. You grabbed his hand in an attempt to stop him. “No” funny of you thinking that small word was going to stop him.“

“I have to see it. I want to.“

When your shirt fell to the floor, your ego fell with it.

Bloody, fresh scars and indentations from nails driven into the skin covered your shoulders and chest.

“I’m so sorry Kai I just-I have to” you said between sobs.

His eyes watered as he bit his tongue.

“What a selfish stupid bitch you are..I gave you everything on this world that you wanted“

The pangs of conscience pierced you deep into the heart.

“My dearest ever…my baby, why would you do this to yourself? Huh?”

His face softened as he pushed hair out of your face.

“Every..every time you were angry at me or I would do something wrong or whenever you slap me..”

He listened every word carefully.

“I would pull a line.”

His head fell into his hands with a groan.

“FUCK”

“Kai you don’t have to-”

“I need more.“

“I need more to see how much I hurt you”

He grabbed you by the back of your pants and pulled them off.

“Please don’t..” tears stream down your face.

Your thighs were no different from your stomach. In pain, scratched and destroyed.

“You know I kill people because of you, just don't tell me I killed you too“ He was crying. He didn’t cry for three years. This made you feel bad. He knelt down and gently kissed every place where you hurt yourself. His big warm hands caressed your shivering skin. “Please let me stay in the cult” You said with a shaky voice. “You will. You will stay.”

“C’mere baby” He said as he added your clothes. "Get dressed" You were grateful to God that you would cover your sins with clothes. "You know..she saw me when I was leaving the bathroom" Kai raised his head to look at you while he buttoned your pants. "I was in a towel and the scars were visible. My stupidity."

There was silence, until he picked you up. “What are you doing?” You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. "We will watch a movie and cuddle, sounds good?" You nodded as he led you out of the kitchen.

His hand on your ass, the other reaching across your back towards your neck. As he carried you into the bedroom you heard Ally's voice. "Divine Ruler?" You buried your face in Kai’s neck in shame. "Tell them I'll be late." Ally nodded and went down to the basement without any questions. The smell of brion losion and mint entered your nostrils. It calmed you down.

You looked at him with lust in your eyes as you undressed in bed. When he turned on the movie he lay down next to you and pulled you close. Kai was pulling the blanket off your body as you shook your head. “Let them breathe sweetie.” When you realized how much you had destroyed your body, your eyes filled with tears. „It's alright bug.“ The nickname made you smile. He hugged you and made circles on your back. You let out a sob. “Shh..it's over.”

"They don't bother you? You still love me?”

"Of course they don't bother me." He said sweetly as he pulled you into a long kiss. “Come on I'll give you a bear cuddle” He said with his arms outstretched. You wiped your damp eyes and threw yourself at him.

______

“And now what?” Harrison asked in annoyance.

“He said he'd be late. y/n wasn't well, probably because of that.”

“What does he have to do with her?” Meadow rolled her eyes. “To me, they looked pretty familiar to each other.”

“How much familiar?”

“It doesn’t matter. Really.”

“Ally.” The blonde warned.

“He was holding her ass”

“Oh looks like we’re getting babies” Harrison joked.

Everyone looked at him. “So they fuck.”

“And he said how important this topic is..but I don’t blame him, I also saw how much y/n tired is.” Beverly added.

“Yeah tired of wanting attention.”

“You will never get a ring from Kai, Mea, just give up already” said Ivy.

______

“She's sleeping now.” Kai spoke quietly into the phone. “I know. You're right.” She sighed softly in her sleep, which caught her boyfriend's attention. “I want you to take her, she needs therapy.”

“No I don't have a heart don't talk shit.”

“It's very bad, I expect of you to give all of yourself so you can help her.”

“Okay, bye.”

When he finished the call with his older brother, he kissed her gently on the cheek and went down to the basement.

“I'm sorry I'm late, I had some things to do.”

Cult members looked at him. “y/n is not here with us, she is sick and needs peace.” Meadow's face fell. Anger? Surprise? What could she expect?

After agreeing on the plan for the next action, everyone left the basement. Since Meadow was last, he called her. “Meadow. Stay a little so we can talk”

“What is it Divine Ruler?”

“I wanted to thank you for telling me that thing today.” Her face suddenly lit up. “There’s no need to thank me my Divine Ruler, I was just doing my job.” “Really Meadow..thank you so much” he puts his hand on her shoulder. Kai wanted to fill her with hope and then destroy her. In the name of you. She wasn’t backstabber to him, but she was to you.

“You saved me.”

��Yeah?” She asked with smile.

“Yeah. Because you saved her.” Meadow's faces could no longer be read. He approached her and whispered in her ear.

“Is it also your job to make my girlfriend cry?”

She opened her mouth to say something , but Kai was faster.

"We have been together for six years, we can also call her a wife.”

“If you do something like this again, I swear I will kill you personally.”

She stayed quiet.

“You can go now.”

As Meadow walked up the stairs in embarrassment, he called out to her, “Also good night, sleep well!”

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commander-rahrah · 7 months

Text

Talking to the Moon: Part III

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader

Word Count: ~4450

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here

Summary: Set in Act II in Moonrise Towers, after meeting Ketharic and Araj the first time; Astarion finally comes to terms with his feelings for you, and takes a chance.

Notes: I love elements of both versions of Astarion’s confession scene, so I decided to combine them and add a little extra to them too! There is some dialogue borrowed from the game from Astarion's actual confession, but I added a lot more into it, especially with Tav/Reader's responses.

I love this pairing so very much. I know it is very soft, but I just think Astarion deserves someone soft and gentle and patient with him.

Thank you for reading and interacting! It means so much to me ♡♡♡

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

Bile was rising in Astarion’s throat. The scent of the room, the things that drow was doing to those vials of blood. It was wrong, all wrong. He thought he was a monster for the curse bestowed upon him. But whatever experiments were being conducted, they were monstrous in a completely different sense. His entire being had screamed at him to flee when she had turned her violet eyes onto him. He hated that she even knew his name. He wanted to get as far away from this miserable tower as possible. To go find the stupid artifact for themselves and never return. And the drow was still trying to convince him. Gods, he wished she would just give up. Maybe if he just gave in — it would be only a moment, and then it would be over. His body would still cringe as he remembered it, but he could just add it to the list. But then he glanced to you. You had shown him, the other night, the power of listening to yourself. Of stopping. Of saying no. Really, you had been teaching him that over and over during your little adventures together. When he first realized his new found freedom, all he could focus on was being away from Cazador. Being away from his looming, threatening presence — the pain, the anguish. What he didn’t realize was that freedom came with something else. Autonomy. A choice. Astarion had been making many of them, every day for weeks and he hadn’t realized. Sometimes they were tiny, insignificant decisions. And sometimes they were remarkable… or foolish. But they were his and his alone. And he felt like he could make them. That he wouldn’t be punished or gutted by the group. Betrayed or humiliated for it. And that was because of you.

When Astarion had decided to seduce you he had done it for his protection. He had seen your abilities and power those first few days and realized the threat you could pose to his master. He had done it to ensure you would be on his side, always — that you would never turn on him. What he hadn’t expected was how your protection would really feel, what it would entail. He knew he had your blade and powers now — just as you had his. But what you had given him was so much more than just your abilities. It was sanctuary. He felt shielded, secure. He could let his guard down, he had let his guard down with you. He could make decisions and mistakes and grow… Feel what he wanted, think what he wanted. So as he stared at you, his mind resolved. His red eyes narrowed as he gave his attention to the drow one final time, “I gave you my answer.” She scoffed, “Your control over your spawn has lapsed. Order him to do this, you will not regret it.” The alchemist spat at you, her arms crossed with irritation from his rejection. Even just the word spawn made the hairs on the back of his arms raise. And she thought you were his master. He knew exactly what Cazador would do if he were here. A bleak thought tried to surface in his head, but he forced it away. No, you weren’t like Cazador.

He trusted you. Your nostrils flared as you snapped your head to the mad alchemist, “He is his own person. And he gave you his answer.” “If you would just—“ “No,” You growled, stepping forward with your lips in a snarl. “He said no.” The group blinked at you — you had never been so short with anyone. You were usually flowery and lighthearted even when were outright rejecting someone. Even when someone had a blade pointed to your chest, you were at least civil. They had never seen you like this. Astarion’s red eyes flickered across you face, you seemed just as upset as he did. He could hear your heart thundering, your blood boiling. “Stay away from him.” Your tone was final, your jaw set. “I’ve had enough of this wretched place. Let’s get out of here.” You huffed, turning on your heel and marching out of the tower. Astarion trailed behind you and the rest of the group, studying you carefully. You were vibrating. He couldn’t recall ever seeing you this mad. He almost expected you to go into a rage like Karlach did. He knew you would often put on a mask — one that said everything was fine, everyone was good. You used it because you wanted to be a good leader, because you so often wanted to see the best in the world. He had seen it slip up before, had seen you remove it just for him. But this anger was something entirely new. And it was on his behalf? Astarion grasped that in defending him, not only had you revealed something about yourself, you had made him feel something he had not known in hundreds of years. Respected. Safe. Alive. Not a pawn or tool. A person. He realized that you were both just two people. And that one of you (and maybe if the gods were kind), both of you… stupidly cared for one another.

Fallen for the other. His plan had gone out the window much sooner than he wanted to admit to himself. He hadn’t been performing with you for quite some time. No, he had not been your plaything or object of desire. He had been… himself. A version of himself he had never known he could be. And the final step was to relinquish the thing he was harboring — control. To show you what he truly has to offer. To put his faith in you. And trust that in turn you would listen, and understand. And not immediately stake him through the heart. A thousand scenarios of how his confession would go began to swirl in his head. But his shoulders lifted as you all left the oppressive atmosphere inside. Even the doom and gloom of the Shadlowlands was appreciated over the dark energy swirling in Moonrise Towers. “Well, that was not what I’d expected.” Gale broke the silence first as the party finished crossing the bridge away from the imposing tower. You were about to begin the trek back to your camp. “Ketheric is…” “An abomination.” Lae’zel interjected, her teeth barred slightly as she spoke. Shadowheart let out a loud breath from her nose, “Agreed.” “Everyone in that place is vile.” Wyll grimaced as he looked over his shoulder, “That alchemist…” He glanced over to Astarion, worry plastered over his face. Though the vampire was sure it was for his missing father more than anything, not for him. “She was a little obsessive. But can you blame her?” Astarion put on his usual snark, letting out his fake laugh as he gestured at himself. “It wasn’t obsessive, it was disgusting.” Your voice was low — your distaste was clear. “She didn’t treat you as a person, only an object of her desire.” “She isn’t the first.“ He gave you a sad smile, before quirking his white eyebrows. “Well, she will be the last. And how dare she look to me, to try and get me to what—leash you? Control you? How dare she think of me as your master—“ “Darling,” Astarion grabbed onto your elbow, halting your rant and your movement. “You aren’t Cazador, trust me.” No, Cazador would have leapt at the opportunity. Not even for the potion. The sadistic bastard would make him do it just to get off on his humiliation. You were as opposite of Cazador as there could possibly be. The furrow in your brow softened, before you nodded your head. The pair of you looked around to realize you had stopped in the middle of the pathway, the rest of the party halted as well, watching your interaction. Realizing the sudden attention you cleared your throat, a blush creeping across your cheeks as you turned your attention back to the group. “Well, I think it’s best we get back to camp to strategize, right?” “Right.” Wyll nodded at you with a knowing smile, before you and the warlock started to lead the group again. Astarion’s red eyes trailed after you, a soft look tugging at his features. “You’re looking a little smitten lately, Fangs.” Karlach poked him in the ribs as she walked by, “Don’t worry, they look at you like that too.” She said over her shoulder, before taking extra long steps to catch up with you.

He fought the smile that stretched his lips, before trailing after you.

• • •

Astarion knew he was being anything but subtle as he sat across the campfire from you. His red eyes continually found their way to your figure throughout the evening. The different scenarios he had been imagining in his head were still swirling, consuming his every thought. When he told you his intended plan, but how he had fallen for you instead — how would you react? What if he told you and you laughed? Or screamed? Or attacked? His mind was a cruel, treacherous thing he realized. But his half-dead heart still thumped with the same tune of... hope. What if you had fallen too? Your laughter snapped him back to the present, the joyous sound something he had missed hearing lately. The shadowlands did not leave much time or room for happiness and lighthearted moments. But this evening seemed to be an exception. Gale continued his story, some tale of his about being a foolish boy with much too much time and magic on his hands. The group was hovering and sitting nearby as they listened. Even Shadowheart had joined, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips as she listened with Karlach’s arm slung behind her waist. “The hubris of wizards.” Lae’zel sneered with a roll of her eyes. “I do not understand how you have made it this far in life, istik.” “Dumb luck?” Wyll joked as he ruffled Gale’s brown hair. “Har har," The wizard rolled his eyes, before raising his finger in counterpoint, "But to be fair, the spell was transcribed improperly—" The group groaned collectively, but it was Karlach who spoke up, “Nooooooo, no more talk of proper etiquette and techniques. You’re the only one who cares for it!” He slumped, “Ugh, I miss Tara. She and I would have the most heated debates about proper techniques…” You placed an arm around his shoulders and gave him a half hug. “She is a much better companion than we are then.” You grinned at him, before finishing the last of your meal and placing the empty dish on your lap.

Envy coursed through Astarion at your casual touch with Gale. He wished... He wished he could touch that easily. Be touched that easily, so casually. Without a second thought.

“Are you done?” Shadowheart stood above you, with her small hand outstretched and gesturing to the empty dish in your lap.

“I— oh, yes,” You stumbled over your words before you held it out for her. She grabbed it gently, and you let out quiet words of gratitude. The cleric bowed her head bashfully, before grabbing the other dishes and heading to the river to wash up. Shock went through your face, your eyes shining bright and hopeful. It was the most interaction you’d had all week — and it had been soft and gentle. Remorseful, even. Karlach caught your eye and gave you a small smile — nodding her head in reassurance at you.

Eventually, the tell-tale signs of the camp beginning to wind down for the night started. Gale grabbed a glass of wine and his spellbook, before excusing himself to his makeshift desk near his tent. Wyll and Karlach were now playing cards, chuckling softly between hushed stories. Lae'zel had excused herself for an early night, and Shadowheart remained at the fire pouring over a book she had picked up today. You were kneeling in front of your tent, searching through your pack for something.

The vampire glanced around once more — if he didn't do it now, he didn't know when he would build up the courage to do it again. Standing up, he nervously picked at the sides of his leather pants as he tread closer to your tent. He made purposeful steps as he approached, alerting you of his presence.

"Astarion, hi." You sounded breathless as you stood up quickly, abandoning your belongings on the ground.

“Walk with me?” He quirked his eyebrow, his hands still twitching apprehensively at his side. “Sure,” You said with an easy smile, falling into step by his side as he brought you towards the sandy bed near the river. The sounds and sights of the camp began to get quieter and quieter as you walked away.

You both took in the sights around you, the dim evening light revealing the dark water that was flowing slowly and a quiet breeze that didn't snare in any of the bare branches. “Even with the curse — this place can be quite beautiful sometimes.” His red eyes glanced around before settling back on you, “You think so?”

"I do."

He thought that spoke more about you, then it did about the Shadowlands. Seeing the beauty in somewhere like this, was a reflection of your own. You made him believe that some good and beauty could really be found in such darkness. Clearing his throat, he spoke with his fingers twirling behind his back, “I brought you out here because… I think we need to talk.” You cocked your head, “About what?” “I— I, uh…," His steps stopped, then yours. "I want to thank you.” “For?” He turned to face you, “For what you said while I was in front of that vile drow. I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered. You could have asked me to do the same — to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned. But you didn’t. And I’m grateful.” You winced, “I would never — You should never have to do something you don’t want to." “It’s a novel concept, I admit." He gave you a sad smile, "And a little intimidating… it would have been so easy to do it. Just to go along with what I was being told to do. A moment of disgust to force myself through. And then I could have carried on, just like before…”

But things were different now.

“That would’ve been wrong. How she treated you, how he treated you is wrong.”

"I know. I know that now. The entire reason for my existence was to seduce anything with a pulse. And every instinct I have tells me that nothing’s changed. That I’m still just a means to an end... But you made me see that I never stopped thinking like I was still his slave, even in freedom. But I’m more than that. More than a thing to be used.” The vampire stood up a little taller, his chin lifting.

"You are so much more, Astarion. You deserve so much more.” His mouth twitched as he tried to force down the swell of emotion climbing up his stomach and into his throat. “Are you all right?” “Oh yes, I’m fine. I just — feel awful." His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes glancing down to his boots. "Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan — seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy — instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in." He finally looked up at your face, studying intensely for your reaction.

"All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart. You… you’re incredible.” Your eyebrows raised on your face as you stepped a little closer, “Astarion… what are you saying?” “I'm saying... That I’ve fallen for you.” He finally admitted.

A look of astonishment crossed your face, before your lips pulled into the most beautiful smile he had even seen. If you were about to stake him — at least it would be a sweet death.

“And I you.” You whispered back. His mind went berserk, the thudding in his ears amplifying even more. “You — you have?” He sputtered. “Absolutely. Astarion, you are wonderful, you are… My parents paid for some of the best tutors you can find on this continent, and I still can’t think of the words to describe you.”

You both let out breathy nervous laughs, both of your eyes darting across the other's features with grins on your face.

The corners of his mouth turned down as he got serious, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.” “So do I. More than anything.” You admitted, your eyes sparkling with hope and maybe something a little more. “I just don’t know what real looks like. Not after two hundred years playing the rake. Being close to someone — any kind of intimacy— was something I performed to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.”

Because he did want to. There had been moments with you that had brought him such unexpected bliss, touch and pleasure more euphoric then anything he could have imagined. And he wanted to experience that again with you, all of it with you. But he wanted to experience it without it being marred from his past. “I care about you — deeply. For longer then I should admit… My feelings for you have been about more than sex and attraction for quite some time now.” He knew what you were saying was the truth. He’d seen the look on your face in the Last Light Inn — the hurt and pain etched into it when you thought he only saw you for sex. That in the last few weeks you too, had been stepping away from the physical — and yet, you still spoke to him, protected him, cared for him.

But he couldn't stop the little voice in the back of his mind. "Really? You're sure?"

"I've never been more sure. May I hug you?” You asked carefully, your brows furrowed ever so slightly.

Uncertainty flooded through him. No one had asked his permission like this before. No one had offered affection without some end in sight. But he remembered your previous soft touches, and noticed how cautious you were being now. He nodded his head, convinced. He awkwardly moved his arms out, unsure of how to do this.

You wrapped your arms around him slowly, giving him ample time to change his mind or pull away. He felt your fingers bunch the material on the back of his shirt, tugging at it gently. Your scent filled his nostrils, your warmth seeping into his cold body. No one had very touched him like this, comforted him like this. He choked back the sob that almost escaped him, his mouth puckering before he wrapped his own arms around you — burying his head into the side of your neck and pushing into you more.

Astarion wasn’t sure how long you stood there like that — but he didn’t really care. He hadn't realized how long he had yearned for this, for you.

It took every fiber of his being to pull away from you, but he caught your hand before you could fully pull away. "Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing... or what comes next." He placed his other hand on top of yours, enveloping them with what he hoped was a tender touch. "But I know that this? This is nice."

You gave him another life-changing smile, “It is. Isn’t it?”

He couldn't stop himself from matching your expression, “Gods, I feel so foolish — I don’t know how to do this, to be romantic or anything without—“

You interrupted him softly, “We will learn together. And take our time doing so.”

“Ugh, why do you have to be so patient and kind? It makes me like you even more.” He said exasperatedly, staring at your now intertwined fingers.

You looked up to the now inky black sky, “It’s getting late,”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, “I don’t want to turn in yet. I just got you to myself…”

“There will be more nights, I promise.” You assured him.

His eyebrows rose as he had an idea, but the worry of rejection flooded through him, “Would you, if you wanted, you can say no—“

“Starry.” You gave him a reassuring nod, your eyes telling him to speak up for himself.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asked in a hushed tone.

You quirked your lips, “Perhaps you need more time before we share a tent — even just to sleep. I do not want to rush you.”

“I—I must admit I quite enjoyed having you next to me while we just slept at the inn." He confessed.

“You would be comfortable with that?”

He nodded, “Yes, I believe so.”

“And if you change your mind?”

“I will tell you. I promise.”

“As you wish, love.” You squeezed his fingers once more, before beginning to lead him back towards the camp.

He stumbled behind you for a moment, slightly dazed.

Love. The name made his heart swoon and flutter. Gods, his name on your lips had made him come alive again, but that single word made him feel like he was the only person in the world.

• • •

Thankfully the rest of the party had retired to their tents by the time you two returned. The campfire snuffed out, and supplies tucked away. Scratch had lifted his head from his watch on a rock as you approached, but settled quickly as he saw who it was.

You had changed in your own tent, insisting on that boundary until more time had passed. You had been shivering in your nightclothes as you slipped into his tent and immediately hid under one of his blankets. Astarion had chuckled before joining you, leaving a respectable amount of space between you. A comfortable amount for him, as you insisted.

He couldn't help but look at you laying next to him. When he had laid next to you in the inn he had to force himself to look away, but he allowed himself to now. Your face and hair glowed in the soft light of the few candles he had kept lit. His eyes focused on your lips as you licked them before speaking.

“You are much braver than I am.” You whispered, keeping your voice low so as not to wake your sleeping companions.

The vampire scoffed, “Me? Brave? Darling, don’t make me laugh. I made Karlach wear me like a backpack today to cross over vines.” “To say what you did tonight first… I had been trying to work up the courage but I… I think I care about you so much it just terrified me.”

He had seen you stand up to cambions, run through burning buildings. But that is what terrified you? “Why?” Your brow instantly furrowed, your eyes flashing down. “I… I never thought you would reciprocate. I was happy to take whatever scraps you gave me because I just assumed… I’ve been told I’m hard to love most of my life. Too loud, too much.” “I could never have enough of you.” The words left Astarion’s lips without a second thought. Instant tears formed in your eyes, turning them silver in the glowing candle light. You clutched your chest for a moment, before brushing the tears away, “Oh, you can’t just say things like that.” “Even if they are true?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Astarion… I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

He scoffed, "If anyone should be asking that it’s me.”

You shook your head at his intended self-deprecation, before settling onto the bedroll as you prepared yourself to sleep.

He watched your eyes flutter open and closed for a few times, before he spoke again quietly. “Would you tell me one of the things?”

“Hmmm?” You asked with a hum, your eyes still closed as you rolled slightly closer to hear him. “A few weeks ago you— you said that you wished I could see myself the way you do… How do you see me?”

Though he was overjoyed with you reciprocating his feelings, he couldn’t help but be bewildered by them. Why him? Out of all the people you had met and befriended, why in the hells had you picked him? He was violent, arrogant, traumatized…

Your expression softened as you opened your eyes, a happy sound escaping you as you thought. “I love the way you act when you think no one is looking.” He blinked. “What ever do you mean?” “Oh, when you hum around camp when doing chores or… oh, that cat at the inn. You were so delighted, petting that the little thing.” You smiled at the memory, “Everyone is afraid of being perceived, I know. And with the walls you built around yourself… it is such a lovely sight to see when you let them down for a moment.”

He stared at you in disbelief. You had been seeing him for longer than he realized.

He whispered your name, before choking out. ”I— Thank you.”

You looked over at him like he was the stars in the sky. “Goodnight Astarion.” You said sleepily, your eyes fluttering closed as you began to doze off. “Sweet dreams, darling.” He rolled over onto his back, his eyes moving from your form to close and see you in his dreams instead. A smile tugged on his lips as he fell into his trance.

And so began the nights of you joining him in his slumber.

Even just laying next to him, your presence was a gift. Blanketing him with safety and companionship — granting him a peace he had never known.

The deepest intimacy he had ever experienced. And he wasn’t afraid of it. It wasn’t painful.

And perhaps that is why the moon came up every night — so that the stars did not feel so alone.

Part IV

#bg3 fanfic #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion/reader

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itsgrimeytime · 5 months

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Magnolia in May (Part Twenty Four) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Parts 1-20, 21, 22, 23...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @curlycarley @queenie32 @mgparker

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TW: a lil ✨️steamy✨️, but nothing past making out.

[[A/N: Did I just make a whole chapter about kissing??? Maybe I did. 🤭 Thanks for reading !!! ]]

You hadn't been alone with Mr. Grimes since the ball.

Not that you were noticing or anything, it was just a spare thought. After the success of such an announcement (other than a few gasps of more established audience), Mr. Grimes had been whisked away by the crowd and so had you. So, you hadn't been alone with him since then.

Not that you were-

Maggie stared at you, watching your hands twitch and you stare off into space, "What's wrong with you?"

When you didn't answer, she threw a pillow at your head.

You were in the safety of your bedroom, door closed and the early morning birds chirping -your Headmistress had slept in, by the grace of god. And your sisters had occupied your space, as you waited for the to-do list to generate -or Headmistress to wake up.

It was normally a wonderful thing, these early mornings with your sisters, Maggie making conversation and Beth nose-deep in a book -she wouldn't tell you what it was about if you asked.

"What?" You questioned, blinking away your trance.

"I said," she scooted closer to you on the bed, "-what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," you answered, quickly -too quickly.

"Liar," she tsked, and now Beth looked up, intrigued, "-something happened, I can tell. You look... You look like a lost puppy-"

"Certainly not," you laughed, looking to Beth.

"No," she answered, matter-of-factly, "-you do. She's right."

"Are you really yearning for Mr. Grimes so badly?"

"No," you echoed, but it sounded sort of hollow, "-it's just been a wondrous few days, so I... I just wished to sit and think of them."

Maggie paused, before looking at you thoughtfully, "You're such a liar, something happened!"

Beth now had jumped up onto the bed, blond curls recklessly out of place and book tossed to the side, she was now at full attention, "Was it the ball? He planned it all out for you, Father told him-"

"I know," you smiled, something far away in your eyes again.

"There it is again!" Maggie retorted, slapping your arm, "-Something happened at the ball-"

"Nothing you don't know about," you swiftly lied, turning a touch crimson at the assumption.

"Was it the dancing?" Beth asked, innocently.

"The whole ball was just delightful," you remarked, genuinely, because it was. You didn't have to lie about that.

Maybe you liked some parts better than others but that was-

"Again!" Maggie spoke, "-Again, it's not the dancing, or the ball itself. What happened? I must know-"

"I don't have to tell you everything," you laughed, it slipped out of your tongue before you could stop it.

"Something did happen!"

"Tell us, tell us-"

"I... I can't," you answered, honestly.

But then, Maggie looked at you, green eyes matching your own. And whether it was the twitch or your lips, or the slight twinkle in your eye, you'd never know but something told her.

"He kissed you," she finished, in a whispered sort of yelling tone. Despite her being fast asleep, the three of you took no chances. Especially now.

"No-" you sputtered.

"He kissed you and you want to kiss him more!" Maggie retorted in the same tone, nearly tackling you into the bed -the tips of your ears were burning, "-How many times?"

"This is ridiculous, he's a gentleman-"

"More than once," she gathered, you have no idea where from, "-How many times, sister?"

You sighed, covering your face with your hands, "I don't know-"

"He kissed you," Maggie relented, falling back onto the bed with a bump, "-and you don't know how many times? How scandalous-"

"It truly wasn't!" you echoed, "-I was just... I was telling him how much I loved him because, well, he didn't believe me-"

"And he kissed you?" Beth asked, inquisitively, like she was looking at a new type of flower.

"Yes," you finally answered, fidgeting with the blanket underneath your fingertips, "-I don't know how many times, I didn't count-"

Maggie and Beth watched on.

"-when it's happening, you don't... you don't think to count. You don't think at all. I just-"

"You want to kiss him again," Maggie spoke, knowingly.

You sighed, not meeting their eyes -defeated, "I do. So greatly."

"What was it like?" Beth asked, fidgeting with the pillow that hit your head moments before.

"I don't-" you started, before softening, she was just curious.

"It was like everything all at once. I felt... I felt what he wanted me to feel, and you're both impossibly close but you wish to be closer-"

The girls watched on in silence, listening to every word like it was wisdom.

"-I..." you exhaled, delightfully crimson, "-I believe that's the best way to explain it. But I can't quite explain why I want more... I... I just want it."

"So, go kiss him then!" Beth exclaimed, and suddenly the room fell very quiet. Everyone waited for the telltale footsteps up the stairs but it remained silent.

"She's not wrong," Maggie asserted, "-Mr. Grimes would do anything for you. If you asked-"

"It's improper," you reiterated, "-as a lady, I shouldn't-"

"You're courting," Beth pointed out.

"And you should be allowed to kiss when you want to," Maggie added, "-he's had his turn, where's yours?"

"I just- I can't just ask him-"

"He loves you," Maggie said, heartfully, "-there's nothing you can do to scare him away, especially ask for a kiss. Men like that kind of thing, you know."

"Mr. Grimes is an honorable man," you spoke, "-I cannot soil such reputation just because I want to."

"You didn't get caught the first time," Maggie responded, dryly.

"Well, the ball was going on," you echoed, "-everyone was distracted-"

"You want a distraction?" Maggie grinned, "I can give you a distraction."

That's how you wound up at the Grimes's estate at the hour of lunch, Headmistress had woken up then but had merely rejoiced in going to visit Mr. Grimes again. She was key to Maggie's plan anyway, so her attendance was integral.

"Headmistress," you remarked, nervously, "-I believe I forgot my fan at home, I should run and grab it-"

"Darling," she laughed, "-I'm certain they have fans here if you request it."

"Well, it's an important fan-"

"It's just one visit, Y/N," she echoed raising a brow at you, "-is everything alright, dear? Did you have another spat?"

"Everything's fine, Headmistress," you smiled, but it was far too strained, "-I'm just a little antsy. This is the first time I've-"

"Seen him since the announcement, I know," Headmistress interrupted, smiling brightly, "-it's such a darling day too. So romantic."

You'd felt kind of bad that you were showing up out of the blue, something in your stomach twisting about him being unprepared to deal with Headmistress. But something in your chest was delighted to see him once more. And maybe, even-

"Ladies," he spoke, shaking you out of your stupor, "-lovely to see you all today. Is there any special occasion?"

Your eyes dusted along his figure, he was again wearing an undershirt sprinkled with dirt. His hair was slicked back with sweat and his eyes a dazzling sort of blue that made your heart pick up the pace for a moment. You watched a bead of sweat run down his nose with eager eyes, derailing to his lips-

"She just wished to visit you," Headmistress concurred, "-it has been quite a few days."

"I do apologize for that," he hummed to you and Headmistress, "-Judith grew sick and I was very much occupied."

"Oh," you spoke, softly, concerned, "-do we need to leave? I'd hate to intrude on such a sensitive time."

His eyes flicked to you and you saw something soften -your heart stuttered in your chest, "That's kind of you, Ms. Greene. But, she's well now, and I'd been delighted to be in your company. All of your company."

"Oh, please," Headmistress echoed, "-don't let us intrude, I assumed you'd much prefer the eldest. Take her as you wish."

You blushed crimson at the intentions she did not know of. His eyes dipped to your cheeks with a smile, it only bloomed further along the bridge of your nose and tips of your ears -his grin grew brighter in response.

"Okay," he smiled eyes flickering to you, and lingering -you thought you might know where, "-all of you feel free to do as you wish. If you have any problems, consult with the staff."

And then, as if out of thin air, Daryl appeared and Rick motioned to him to guide them inside, be at their side until further notice.

Which left you and Mr. Grimes. Alone. With a few workers trimming the hedges and sweeping the patio, you should say.

"Hello," you said, sweetly, turning a touch crimson -not sure what to say.

"Hello," he laughed, smiling so bright you almost had to look away before he faltered -something serious flickering through his face, "-is everything alright?"

"What? Yes," you sputtered out, "-everything is fine."

"No," he echoed, soft and careful, "-something's bothering you, I can tell. Was it at your home? Did something happen?"

"No, I didn't- I wasn't-" you sighed, rubbing your eyes -this was exhausting.

"What?"

You sighed again, and merely looked at him -something heavy in your eyes. You tried to speak without speaking because you wouldn't say it-

It was so improper-

He tilted his head and something passed through his face -filtering through seriousness. Something faltering in his blue eyes.

"Oh," he echoed, "-oh."

"Don't-" you started, sputtering out, "-I..."

He frowned, leaning his hand forward -fingers stretching like he wished to touch you. You tilted toward such a touch, but he resisted.

Something was wrong. You could tell.

"Are you alright?"

Mr. Grimes extended his arm forward, held out for your hand -something in you turned a wonderful sort of crimson. He had just expected you to take to his side, like... like you belonged there.

You blushed just a little more at such assumptions.

"Let's walk," he hummed, far too serious for the moment, "-I have something to show you."

It was his garden, his wondrous garden, all trimmed and proper. If you looked down to the fine details, it's quite messy but nature was messy-

You were happy to see the sprouts and the cherry red tomatoes already peaking out such a red. It was interesting, something you'd never quite seen before.

And you were certain you never would have if you hadn't met Mr. Grimes.

You crouched down to hold a tomato between your fingers, gently so as to not heed its progress. But to feel his work between your fingers, to know what he worked so hard for. "This is all your work, then?"

"All mine," he echoed, crouching down by your side -his side brushed against yours and you almost leaned into it, "-'Should be done before winter."

"That's amazing," you smiled, dropping it from your fingers and raising to your feet -looking along the entire patch, "-you work hard, I can tell."

"I love it," he hummed, something off about his tone, "-Speakin' of, I... wanted to talk to you."

You looked around, apparently, this was his place where no one disturbed him as there was not a soul in sight. Not even trimming the nearby hedges. Your heart sped up in your chest, you were-

"Alone," he spoke, echoing out into the fresh air.

"Alone," you echoed, swallowing.

"I just," he cleared his throat, you watched the bob of his throat, "-at the ball..."

Your eyes filled with pictures of him, rosy red lips and twinkle in his eye. Close, close, close-

"I wanted to apologize."

Your mind halted.

"I shouldn't've-" his accent spilled out, as he rubbed his face, "-You deserve much better. I didn't want- I want everythin' to be perfect, to be, uh... right."

"Mr. Grimes-"

"I want to court ya," he spoke, "-properly. And I... I should've held back such... such instincts."

"Rick-"

"I don't want you to feel as you do," he started, "-you deserve something much more special than-"

"Rick," you held his face -tilting his eyes to yours, "-I do not... That's not how I feel. You're making an assumption."

"Then, what-"

"Rick," you sighed, dropping your hands -your cheeks blooming as you shut your eyes, "-I came here for... for more."

"You, what?" He questioned genuinely, and you couldn't see his face but, you could see his head tilting in your head.

You pushed your hands into your eyes, you couldn't just say it, "For more... For more-"

"Kisses," he whispered, tilted down in front of your face, his hands peeling back your own, "-You want to kiss me?"

"Rick-" you sighed, "-I can't-"

He tilted your head up, finger underneath your chin -blue eyes matching yours, a breath away from your face. Your eyes dipped to his lips, just for a spare moment. He watched such a movement with his blue, blue eyes.

"All you have to do is ask, darlin'."

"I..." you spoke a little uselessly, eyes darting along his face -he looked at you reverently, like he couldn't believe you sat in front of him, asking, "-Kiss me, please."

Your voice was quiet, a little ashamed, but he heard every word -carefully leaning forward with the slow, tender sort of speed that had your hands flinching to grab at him. It's not that such speed was unsavory, you just wanted him so, so close-

"Anythin' for you," he whispered, it fanned across your lips -something in you snapped.

You crashed into him without so much as a regret, he startled for a spare moment -stiffening as your fingers landed on his his shirt, pulling him closer. You wanted to feel his heartbeat on yours, feel the grit of his stubble on your cheeks, feel his hands on your face-

As if on cue, his hands went up to cradle your cheeks, softly, still caring for you despite the speed. Despite the passion that built up in your chest, he was still so soft with you -so tender.

You pulled back for a moment, just to see him -all lidded eyes and rosy red lips, all for you. Anything for you-

"I love you," you spilled out like your heart was in the words -laying on the dirt for him to see, for him to have.

It was just the way he looked then, so dazed; it made your heart flutter, you couldn't help it.

You pushed forward, pressing and pressing until you were the one to open your mouth -gasping for air, maybe, you couldn't remember. It didn't matter-

And suddenly you wanted him closer-

His mouth met yours intimately, tongue hesitant but present and suddenly your head was spinning -it was dizzying. Your knees buckled, but he held you there, hand pressed gently to your waist and something in you tingled at such a grasp. It was improper, you knew that-

But why did it feel so good?

"Mr. Grimes," you whispered between presses of your lips -over and over again, "-Rick-"

He stopped, all lips bruised and eyes heavy -you could barely breathe at such a sight. That was all you. But you remembered why you'd stopped because you'd... you'd opened your mouth and you weren't sure if- If he had been so keen on going so far. It was already improper-

Your heart was in your throat now, as you spoke, "Was that okay? Are you- I didn't mean to force anything-"

And then he looked at you, really looked at you -blue eyes swimming over your face, watching you. A smile bit onto his lips, his rosy red lips (you'd kissed him that way-) and he spoke.

"Marry me."

#rick grimes #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #twd #twd rick #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #magnolia in may

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aynahcr · 1 month

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𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 ᡣ𐭩.

Genre: Smut, Kashimo x gn!reader

Content Warning: handjob, blowjob (m! recieving), face fucking, edging, grumpy!Kashimo, cruel!reader (but not in a bad way), first time writing smut! Sorry for bad grammar :(

¡Minors Do Not Interact!

You never thought this would happened. Him, whining and grumbling while your hands are rubbing his length so slowly. A frown you see from his face has told you he doesn't like it. He hates being dominated extremely.

It wasn't easy having the God of Lightning in your hands. You took a plenty time thinking and planning how to get him down without being switched or getting fucked by this mad man. He did you good, can't reject it. But sometimes he did make you feel so stupid like you never had a thought at all. So, here's a karma. Having him being tied down like an X on a shared bed with no clothes. Such a cruel you letting the cold air touches his bare skin.

"God, baby..." He lets out a whisper with his eyes keeping on you and your hands, begging you to go faster and stop this painful pleasure. You can't see his face, but you know what he wants you to do just from hearing his voice.

"You must use your words, baby. Whining isn't gonna help." You say the words he usually uses when he teased you. The man then growls hopelessly as you chuckle. Your fingertips tap his tip before your lips were lowered down to give a gentle kiss on it. This makes him flinched slightly. My, he looks so adorable. His face already went red and he sweats all over his naked body like he's oiled up.

"Love... Why did you do this t'me... What did I do t'you?" He asks with a pant, hoping you to answer but he hears nothing. He even tried to move himself just to be failed at it. He doesn't know if he could take this pressure for a little longer.

"It's not funny, love! Tell me why you did this!" Nah, clearly that he couldn't. He begins to shout an order to you. It sounds scary at first before changing to be shaken. His precum's leaking on his tip while your hands still do their pleasure torture job with no stopping.

"Babe!" He calls you, following with your name after. But you remain calmed, not letting his demands win this fight. A sight of this version of you makes him confused. So, so confused. He's never seen this you before and he quite doesn't like it.

Or maybe he does, but just doesn't admit it yet.

As you don't seem to go faster even though how many times he's ordered you. This man finally gives up, lowers his ego down a bit as he begins to please.

"Babe, go faster please. It's closer now, please go faster..." He pleas, it's certainly a plea that he lets out from his lips. You heard it so clear, even your eyes go widened. You've never believed you'd hear this man's plea, but it's happening now.

"I beg you, my love... I'm 'bout to cum, 'bout to cum..." His head goes back to the pillow while his chest raises up and down. You think he meant it, he's really about to cum. You then look up at the ceiling, thinking if you should follow his begging or not. In your heart, you don't like seeing him dissatisfied. It causes a hole in your chest somehow. But the other thought inside your mind is opposite, make him whine and beg for more, it said.

You reply as a hum first, "Hm... alright. but can you wait a lil' longer, lightning? Just two minutes." The corner of your lips were raised up with your eyes shut. A soft smile was sent to him, but he receives it as a cruel grin. This isn't like he's thought. No way.

"Nah nah I can't. Babe, please." He shakes his head two times lazily. "I'll do you good after, so please hear my beg."

"You can't even wait and why should I hear you?" You reply before releasing his cock from your palms as your eyes keep straightening on him. Then you sigh out. "So disappointed. Thought you'll be a good boy for me."

"I'm not a boy!" He immediately protests you with his head leaving the pillow. He's frowning at you, wondered why you stopped, also he doesn't look pleased when you used that word to call him. What an egoistic man he is.

"Then you aren't a man either." You say. "Real man can wait, don't you agree with that? If you can't, you're not a real man."

Hajime Kashimo, your beloved boyfriend is now stopped begging. His brain begins to process about your sentences and his self-esteem starts to get on its work. From your observation, this man believes in a way of the real man they called, like 'Real man shouldn't cry.' or maybe like 'Real man should take a lead.' for an example. So, this trick of yours might be work.

You try to guess a hint on his pouty face. He stills silent as he's fighting with himself inside his head. Just like the first paragraph said. This man hates being dominated, but he also hates to wait as well. But again. If he couldn't wait, he's not a real man like you've said.

When you realise that the room of yours covers with silence for too long, you decide to be the one who breaks this strangely awkward situation.

"I know you can wait, my lightning. Just two minutes and I promise I'll give you a reward." You coo as your hand gently wraps around his length, causing him letting out a short mewling and it blessed your ears so nicely. Your man nods lamely without any dissent, but it isn't enough. You want to hear a word.

"Baby."

"Yeah, I'll wait. I'll wait..." He replies your short call. The corner of your lips then hoist up seeing him in good behaviour. You begin your rhythms with a slow movement of your hand around his long dick. His lower lip slowly separates from his upper lip as a soft moans come out. You barely heard his moans from your experience with him, so your eyes quickly peak up to look at his expression. Oh, lord. His pretty eyes have no focus on you but on the ceiling, wishing you to go faster soon.

"God, Hajime. You're so fucking desperate and I love it." You breathe while you hand's starting to go faster as he wished for. "My lightning just wanna reach the climax so bad."

You could see his body reflecting your hand's movement by jerking. Both of his face and his bare chest are all covered with red like a garnet's colour. He can't shut his mouth now loosing all his moans and whimper out shamelessly.

"Aw, poor Hajime barely get touched and already began to cum." You mock him, but your mock somehow turns him on even more and you knew it. Because it used to happen to you as well when he did the same.

With a need to make him go feral, his cock was suddenly taken inside your warm mouth before you begin accelerating. The brief action of yours did take him to the haven's gate. The man growls as he bucks his hips up and down, fucking your face senseless even though he's underneath you.

"Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck, fuck—!" He curses with pleasure.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum...!" He desperately whimpers out while he's wishing if his hands weren't tied so he could grip your head stills and fuck your face better.

You widen your eyes, feeling unbelievable with his hip's skills. You did tie his hands and legs down but it looks like it has no effect on him at all.

With a final thrust, he explodes his cum all inside your mouth along with his erotic moans and shaking body. This move of him almost had you choke but gladly that you didn't.

You pull him out from your mouth before wiping all messed stuff from your lower face. Then your eyes take a look at your man. He's such a pathetic in the sight, noticing from the way his cyan orbs went back to the skull and his lower lip hanging down. So cute, so adorable.

"That's my man." You praise him as your tongue swirls on his tip, offering to clean him up.

"Baby," Hajime lets out a shaken breath while staring at you like a puppy staring at its owner, waiting for a treat.

"Yes, sweetheart." You say, before you place your quick kiss on his lips. The man's disappointed a bit as he thought you would give him a long deep kiss.

"I've promised you to give you a reward."

Finished your sentence, you begin to think about which rewards you should give him. First option is giving him freedoms, second is riding him dried.

Well, whatever you choose. I think he'll enjoy your choice anyway.

｡𖦹˚.🪼₊ ๋࣭ ⭑

¡English is not my first language!

Art by: @_JulyWj on Twitter!

#hajime kashimo #kashimo hajime #kashimo #kashimo x reader #kashimo smut #x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #🅰🆈🅽🅰🅷🅲🆁 ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

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spartanguard · 1 month

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when Emma falls in love [from the vault]

Summary: When Emma falls in love, I know that boy will never be the same | When she came to Storybrooke, finding love was the farthest thing from Emma's mind. Until she started to get to know Ian, the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole. A crush is the last thing she needs—not when she's in the middle of a murder investigation and her son keeps talking about curses. Or maybe it's exactly what both of them need. [Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift] A/N: This is the next in my series of fics inspired by Taylor Swift's vault tracks (mostly from Speak Now (Taylor's Version), but there will be more!). Wanted to post this before we all died from TTPD tomorrow ;) I think this is also my favorite of the ones I've written so far; hope you like it, too! And, as always, thank you to @optomisticgirl for being the best beta ever. rated T | 6.2k words | AO3

When the door swung open, Emma was half expecting it to be someone from downstairs yelling at her to stop her pacing; too many years living in crappy apartments had done that to her. But it was just Mary Margaret, coming home from work.

That said— “Uh, you okay? If you pace any harder, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” her roommate remarked.

“Ugh, sorry,” Emma answered, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the counter. “It was that or attacking the toaster again.”

“You didn’t get fired again, did you?” Mary Margaret asked as she set a bag of groceries on the counter. “‘Cause last I checked, you were your own boss.”

Emma scoffed. “No; just…other stuff.” She swallowed. “Boy stuff?” (She wasn’t sure why she said it like it was a question, other than the fact that she’d never been one to talk about relationships or anything—never had anyone she could talk to about that, so she wasn’t sure if this was the right way to start.)

“Well, that’s convenient,” Mary Margaret said, and reached into the paper sack. “I bought wine,” she finished, pulling out a cheap screw-top bottle of rosé.

“Might need more than that.”

“Good thing I got two,” she answered, producing another.

They curled up at opposite ends of the couch, not even bothering with wine glasses. After a few (hefty) sips, Mary Margaret looked at her pointedly and Emma was suddenly very aware of why her students respected her so much. “Okay. Spill.”

Emma sighed, but obliged. “Okay, you know the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole?”

“Not well, but I know who he is. Ian, right?”

“Yeah, Ian Johnson. He, uh…I mean, I…” She hummed. “I think I like him.”

“Oh my god, you sound like one of my fifth graders,” Mary Margaret replied. “You’re attracted to him? Or maybe a little more?”

Emma took another pull from her bottle. “Maybe a lot more.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

(His ass was fantastic, but that was beside the point.) “But…you know how I am. My history. It hasn’t really been that long since Graham…” She still had a hard time saying died.

“I know,” Mary Margaret said softly. “No one says you have to rush into anything. But if you’re feeling something, it doesn’t hurt to pursue it. Especially if he seems to reciprocate.”

Well, that was her other conundrum, wasn’t it: did he? Much like her, he wasn’t really prone to showing emotion—not noticeably, at least; he wore an air of apathy as well as he did his dark-wash jeans. In fact, she didn’t give him much thought after she first met him—when she’d been called to the bar to drag Leroy to the drunk tank on one of her first overnight shifts as a deputy.

She’d definitely seen him, though; Ian was certainly easy on the eyes—perfectly disheveled hair above light blue eyes, just the right amount of gingery stubble, and a hint of chest hair visible through the open vee of his appropriately tight henley—but her thoughts towards him didn’t go deeper than the surface. She also hadn’t missed the quick once-over he gave her, though she couldn’t tell if it was in appreciation or merely assessment.

It wasn’t until her following visit (Leroy’s next trip to the station’s overnight accommodations) that he did more than hum at her, but there was very little effort in the casual pickup line he threw at her (and she did her damnedest to ignore the lilt of his foreign accent).

She knew his kind—or so she thought: the type of asshole who hid behind a pretty face and a quick come-on and that was all it took to get into a girl’s pants. Frankly, that was something she’d fallen for a few too many times, but not here—not in Storybrooke. Not when Regina was constantly looking for a reason to send her out of town (even if she won that sheriff election fair and square, Gold’s involvement notwithstanding) or limit her time with Henry.

It wasn’t until the first time she got a call at the bar after Graham died that she exchanged more than passing pleasantries with him. Ian wasn’t the first to express his condolences, but he was the first to say, “It’s just not fair.” That was exactly how she felt, too. And that’s when things started to shift between them.

(Apparently, he and Graham went way back—he didn’t specify how far, but it sounded like a while, the kind of vague forever that seemed prevalent in such a small town. Graham had helped him out of a few scrapes, and vice versa. “He was a good man,” Ian had concluded. “Seems those always go too soon.” It felt like there was more to go with that statement, but then “Only the Good Die Young” had come on the jukebox and it was a little too on the nose and she had to get out of there.)

But it really took a turn the night he intervened while she was breaking up a bar fight, getting in the way of a drunken punch meant for her and taking it in the cheek instead. (That was also the night she finally noticed his left arm ended not in a hand, but a prosthesis, as she made the assailant wait in the squad car while she put together an ice pack for Ian’s face; she also found out that night that he mixed a mean whiskey sour.)

So they were…she wasn’t sure if they could really say “friends” after that—not quite a team, either; allies, maybe? Whatever it was, it was definitely something she needed.

She started to run into him at Granny’s after that. The first time, she was getting her morning coffee before heading into the station; he was getting some tea before heading home after closing the bar. Then they’d see each other at lunch hour; if the diner was full, they shared a booth. But then that became something of a habit, too, on the days he didn’t close and she didn’t work overnight (though they eventually started another of sharing a drink at the end of their late-night shifts).

Admittedly, it was a little awkward at first; Emma had never been great at the whole small-talk thing (and even worse at the making-friends thing)—but on the bright side, so was he. She found out little things, like when a favorite song would come on (“Behind Blue Eyes” was up there, unsurprisingly/heartbreakingly), or when she’d ask for a liquor recommendation (rum—always rum). She let slip at one point how much she enjoyed Motown, and he quickly picked up on her hot chocolate order.

More solid information came to light later; as she’d guessed, he was a loner, too—no family left, and had drifted around England and the US until he ended up in Storybrooke, somehow. He made an appreciative comment about her being a fellow jailbird over a beat-up copy of that awful article in the Mirror, but his face fell when she mentioned how old she’d been—a rare emotional moment for him. (But not as intense as when she’d commented on the tattoo on his forearm late one night, and the unmistakable look of loss took over; all they could do at that point was make a toast to living through heartbreak.)

It was…she didn’t want to say easy, but it was nice—there were no expectations, no responsibilities. Just the pleasure of each other’s company, and a sense of kindred comraderie.

She was also aware, but ignoring the fact, that the less she knew, the better. There was less chance that he was lying to her or holding something back; less chance for him to get disappointed in who she was. (Less chance to be hurt.)

“He does, right?” Mary Margaret’s question dragged her back to the present.

Which brought Emma to the downside of being attracted to someone whose walls abutted hers: it was hard to get a read on what was going on in his head, especially when he wasn’t outwardly expressive (more than when they first met, but it was still rare). All she could do was shrug at her roommate and take another pull of wine.

“Yeah, he’s always come off as kind of aloof,” Mary Margaret agreed. “Not altogether unfeeling—more like, not a lot?”

Emma was the last person to make any comments there. What was it she’d said to Graham? “Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you're feeling sucks.” They both had reason enough for that.

“But it looks like you’ve gotten closer to him than anyone in a while,” her roommate went on, “and vice versa?”

“More or less,” Emma conceded. “Present company notwithstanding.”

“I’m honored. And you know what I say about hope,” she answered.

Emma did, but wasn’t sure she was ready to say she was that far in. She extended the end of her bottle to Mary Margaret, who clinked her own against it in solidarity.

By the end of the night, she had no further clarity on the situation and the beginnings of a hangover. Maybe she was overthinking it—or maybe it wasn’t even worth overthinking; it’s not like these things ever worked out in her favor anyway.

But…she did keep thinking about hope.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Her friends eventually dragged her out to the Rabbit Hole for a girls’ night. They’d cited the fact that she missed all the excitement on Valentine’s Day, with Ashley’s engagement, so she needed to make up for it.

Despite still being new to the whole having-female-friends thing (having any friends, really), she had fun. Ian poured the drinks strong and sent more than a few small, sideways grins her way as he watched her dance with the others. She was hoping her subsequent blush could be blamed on exertion or alcohol, except—

“Oh my god,” Ruby yelled at her as they returned to their booth for a refreshment. “Just go screw him already.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been eye-fucking the bartender all night! Go do something about it!”

Well, now her cheeks surely matched her bright red dress—and, to make it worse (or better, Ruby would probably say), when she glanced over at Ian a moment later to see if he’d heard, he was smirking and raised an eyebrow as soon as she caught his eye.

(They hadn’t crossed that line yet but—it had been close. She’d been all too aware of the proximity of their lips when she was helping him shut down last week and they’d collided in the back hall—her hands on his firm chest, his coming to her waist, the dart of her eyes to his mouth—she’d basically sprinted out of there.)

There was definitely an itch to scratch, but she wasn’t about to go there with him. Because she knew, with him, it would be so much more than that. (And if he didn’t reciprocate…that would be even worse.)

“So I hear you’ve been hanging out with the bartender,” Regina asked her one day after she dropped Henry off at the mayor’s house.

Emma shrugged. “I guess,” she answered, downplaying whatever it was they had—if only because she had a feeling Regina would find a way to weaponize it.

(Also, he was good with Henry—like, really good, maybe even better than she was. For someone who didn’t appear to care much about…anything, he always seemed to brighten and engage so much more around her kid whenever they ran into him at Granny’s. He even indulged Henry’s theories about the “curse”, but her son hadn’t decided who Ian was in this supposed other life. Emma didn’t have any ideas, either, if only because that meant Ian was the one person safe from Henry’s childlike scrutiny.)

“Even with everything he’s done?”

That got her attention. “What has he done?”

“More like what hasn’t he done; you’re the sheriff—you could look up his rap sheet. He’s got some blood on those hands—well, hand. Has he even mentioned how that happened?”

“No,” Emma said stiffly. “He hasn’t.”

“I don’t suppose he’s mentioned anything about his ex either, then. Who was married.”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, maybe you should look into it—so you can be aware of just who you’re allowing around my son.”

The mayor pointedly closed the door at that, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts—never a good combination. She was mulling it over on the drive to the station—how much did she actually believe what Regina was saying?

But her curiosity was too piqued to let it rest. She felt like the biggest asshole, but after she got settled for the start of her shift, she ended up in the records room, particularly in front of the drawer labeled H–J.

As much as she didn’t want to—she had to know. She slid the drawer open and dug through the folders, until she found the one near the back labeled Johnson, Ian Brennan.

It was thick. His ‘jailbird’ comment from a while back returned to her; she thought he’d been joking at the time.

She didn’t look inside until she was in her office, with the door shut—not that she expected any visitors, least of all him (he was working anyways), but she still felt like she was doing something wrong, even if she had perfectly legal access to these files.

She took a deep breath and flipped it open.

Ian was glaring at her from the photo paper-clipped to the stack of forms—a bit younger, a bit angrier than the man she knew, with a fire in those blue eyes she’d never seen, even from behind a layer of guyliner and shaggy bangs.

Beneath it, typed out, it listed his name, birthdate (although the year was smudged beyond recognition), that he was born in England, and a charge for drunk driving.

The next sheet: illegal possession of a firearm.

The next several that followed included a handful of drug-related charges, mostly involving the transporting of them.

The last page said manslaughter.

She slammed the folder shut and threw it in the empty bottom drawer of her desk.

In vain, she tried to pretend she hadn’t seen it. Maybe someone planted it there? She wouldn’t put it past Regina, though as to why, she couldn’t guess. The comments about an affair, though—she’d done the whole dating-a-married-guy thing; it hadn’t ended well, but it still wasn’t something she was keen on.

For the next week or so, she managed to avoid him—took all her Granny’s orders to go; sent Ruby to deal with anything at the bar; and one time, ran down an alley when she saw him coming the opposite way down the sidewalk. (She didn’t say she was mature about it…or subtle.)

When she got home later that week, there were two bottles of rosé on the counter again. “My turn,” Mary Margaret said, handing one over.

Was infidelity just a thing here? Because now her roommate was dealing with it, too. Emma’s opinion of David wasn’t the highest at the moment—he couldn’t string her best friend along and stay with his wife—but the longer Mary Margaret pursued this, the more heartache it was gonna cause.

“Thanks for talking to me about it,” she said, halfway through the bottle. “What about you? How are things with Ian?”

Emma took a long, long drink.

“Gotcha,” Mary Margaret said knowingly.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

It came to a head when she was in the station one morning, having arrived to her shift early in order to avoid seeing him at the diner. She was dealing with some paperwork when she heard the front door open. “In here,” she called out, assuming it was Regina telling her off for something she hadn’t done right. Footsteps approached. “What would you like to yell at me about today, Madam Mayor?” she asked sarcastically.

“I hadn’t planned on yelling, but I did want to ask why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Oh shit. Ian was there in the doorway, a coffee cup and bag from Granny’s in his hand, and a serious set in his stare.

“I haven’t,” she lied, then turned back to the computer screen (not that it was doing anything—it still ran Windows 98, after all). “I’ve just been busy.”

“See, I’m actually quite perceptive,” he replied, then stepped forward to set the foodstuffs on the corner of her desk. “And this? This is avoiding.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah,” she had to admit. They’d always been honest with each other, even if they’d clearly withheld some things. And given how poorly her attempted lie a moment ago went, it would be dumb to try to again.

“What is it, love? Did I do something wrong?”

She opened her eyes to look up at him, and regretted it—he looked genuinely hurt. What she was about to do probably wouldn’t help.

Staying seated, she bent down to open the bottom drawer on her desk, and then pulled out his file. Then she carefully set it in front of her.

He immediately recognized it, she could tell. “Ah.”

“I’m sorry; I was talking to Regina and she said some things and—curiosity got the best of me.”

“I see.”

She couldn’t tell if he was angry or hurt—or both—but either way, she felt like an ass. May as well throw fuel on the fire. “She mentioned something about your ex, too—specifically, her marital status.”

“She did, did she?” His words were suddenly emotionless.

“Is…is that all you’re gonna say?” she eventually asked quietly.

He blinked slowly, as when he opened his eyes, they were just a bit duller—a bit more reserved. (That was worse than anything else she’d seen recently.)

“What else needs to be said, Swan?” he shrugged. “You apparently have all you need to know right there, between that and whatever the mayor has told you.”

His gaze settled somewhere near the floor and silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Even louder to her, though, was the fact he was just…accepting it.

“Seriously?” she snapped. “You’re not gonna defend yourself, or fight back at whatever is incorrect in my assumptions?”

He furrowed his brow. “What good would it do?”

“Show me you give a crap!” she shouted, standing so fast it sent her rolling chair sliding into the wall. “Because I’m trying to figure out whatever the hell this is,” she went on, gesturing between them, “but I can’t tell if you actually care or not.”

Finally, something steely settled in his gaze.

“Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you’re feeling sucks,” he stated, plainly but pointedly.

She swallowed at the recitation of what she once had said to Graham. She already knew she wasn’t the first sheriff to strike up a friendship with him, but she was probably the only one Ian had thrown their own words back at.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it go away,” she countered.

“If you do it long enough, it does.”

“And then what? You just never feel anything for the rest of your life?” God, Mary Margaret was really rubbing off on her—though that didn’t mean her calling him out wasn’t a little hypocritical.

“It had been working well for me.”

“Fine then,” she spat. “You can go back to your lonely existence and I’ll fuck off to mine and we’ll just leave it at that.” She crossed her arms and curled in on herself; she was definitely pouting, but the alternative was flopping back in her seat and crying.

His face relaxed, almost going the other way into a frown. “Bloody hell, that’s not what—no, love, I—I just thought you knew me better than that,” he admitted, almost apologetically.

“Well, apparently I don’t,” she parroted back. “I’m wondering if I know anything about you. This is some serious shit, Ian.”

“And I thought you of all people might understand that,” he said matter-of-factly. “I remember the headlines after you arrived in town; just because you have a badge now doesn’t mean you’ve always been on the right side of the law, either.”

“I’m not pretending I didn’t!”

“Neither am I. I just don’t go broadcasting it, given that I still have the option not to.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d be telling people I killed someone either.”

“I—” He started to talk, but then closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. After taking a deep breath, he said, “Not that I really need to, but can I tell you the full story? Before you completely write me off?”

She nodded, but held back what she was really thinking: that she didn’t want him to write himself off.

“I did get into some bad shit,” he started. “My brother was gone, my ex had just died, and I was suddenly an amputee, so I was alone and spiraling. Fell in with the wrong crowd—classic story. Got in deep with a drug ring, and then I got caught. Killed a member of a warring cartel in the process. But, by some miracle, I had a great lawyer. They got a few of the charges thrown out for lack of evidence and I reached a plea deal on the others, along with a heavily reduced sentence for my cooperation in taking down much of the rest of the ring. Did my time, now I’m here. And I regret it every day.”

“Damn.” That was heavier than expected.

“Aye.” He scratched nervously behind his ear. “Anything else?”

She chewed her bottom lip; she was nervous to ask, but she had to. “So, your ex…”

“My ex was married when we met. But it wasn’t a happy marriage. And I didn’t lure her away, or whatever may have been said—she ran off with me. But I loved her, so I went with it. Until her husband found us and went mad. Tried to cut off my hand; stabbed her. Doctors had to take it the rest of the way off,” he explained, raising his prosthesis. “Add that to the list of reasons why I fell in with the wrong people.”

Fuck. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“Indeed.” He toyed with the fingers on his false hand for a moment, and then looked back up at her. “But Swan, why couldn’t you just ask me that? Rather than take the word of a woman who we’ve all seen lie to you—to everyone—before.”

She swallowed. “Because I couldn’t take the chance I was wrong about you.”

“Were you?”

It took her by surprise. “Was I what?”

“Were you wrong about me?” He was staring back at her intently, like he hadn’t just asked a simple but potentially earth-shattering question—but also looked like he was bracing for impact.

She nearly stopped breathing. Not that she had planned any part of this conversation, but when she imagined talking to him again, she thought it’d be more about her figuring out whether he’d let her inside his walls. Logically, it was only fair that he did the same; it was just the first time anyone had followed her in—not to mention challenged her once they were there. (Especially not someone with intense blue eyes, bolder than she’d yet seen them.) And she didn’t know how to respond.

“Because I know I’m not the biggest catch or anything—I’m certainly not Graham—” he went on (and apparently knew where to sting her), “and yeah, I probably still drink a bit more rum than is advised, but other than this—” he nodded at the folder, “—I’ve been nothing but honest with you. So now it’s up to you to decide: whatever it is you’re worried about—were you wrong?”

It had been a long-ass time since anyone had been that bluntly honest with her. (And never someone she was interested in.)

He was right—her lie detector had never gone off with him, either. (It also hadn’t when Regina was gossiping, but it was a little less accurate with noticing exaggerations or omissions.)

He’d never really answered her earlier question, though. “I just need to know one thing,” she said as she stepped around the desk. “I’m not alone in feeling…this, right?” she asked, blatantly stepping into his space.

“No,” he confirmed on a breath.

“Then no, I wasn’t wrong. I think what I was actually scared of…was that I was right.”

“Right?”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and quickly found his lips, kissing away any further confusion. (As she was finding out, they were both a bit better at nonverbal communication.)

(And he did taste a bit like rum, but—she liked it.)

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

She wanted to say things changed from there—they took it fast, or slow, or whatever—but in reality, their relationship really didn’t change. There were still the meals at Granny’s, the nights at the bar. She’d never really been a date-night kind of girl. But emotionally—woah.

It was like she was seeing a whole other side of Ian—but at the same time, it felt like it had always been there, just hiding below the surface. It wasn’t a universal thing—he was still a bit reserved while at work, or around just about anyone other than her and Henry—which made what they had feel all the more special.

There were also more than a few makeout sessions sprinkled in there, too. (Being chased out of the back hall of Granny’s by said proprietress, giggling like teenagers, was one of her more cherished memories since arriving here.)

For a short while, it was simple and sweet and it made her happy. For a little bit, she maybe had the kind of life she’d always hoped—with her son, friends, and a guy she really liked.

But it was like the universe noticed or something—no, Emma Swan couldn’t simply have nice things. Shit always, inevitably hit the fan.

Starting with having to arrest and book her roommate for murder.

She texted ahead and he had a shot waiting for her when she got to the bar after, then a couple more after that. She was definitely loitering—and he could tell. “What is it, love? Aside from the obvious.”

One thing she’d realized: he was exceedingly good at reading her, like a book he couldn’t put down.

“I don’t want to go back to the apartment,” she admitted. “It’s not that I’m afraid to be alone, but knowing that she’s in a cell and I’m there—and that someone may have been in the loft—I just…it freaks me out a bit.”

He swallowed. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but…I could go with you,” he offered. “At least to make sure everything is safe.”

“I’d like that.”

The walk to the loft from the Rabbit Hole was short but filled with energy; there was literally no reason for her to be any sort of excited, but she never invited guys back to her place. Even if she had no plans of anything intimate happening, this was something of a big step for her.

Of course, it ended up being anticlimactic—there was nothing amiss in the flat—but she was still hesitant to want to leave his presence, while at the same time not wanting to seem needy or like she was coming onto him in a subversive way.

“I, uh, could sleep on the couch, if you’d feel better,” he offered, doing that adorable nervous scratch behind the ear. Right—it had been a while for him with this kind of stuff, too.

“Um, yeah, I would. Thanks.”

That was the night she learned he snored—but the sound eventually lulled her to sleep, too.

As it did for the next few nights.

Then came the one after she narrowly escaped that crazy Jefferson’s house with Mary Margaret. She was still shaking as she took the stairs to the apartment and almost didn’t notice Ian sitting on the landing, nearly tripping over his feet.

“Swan, what’s wrong? You never answered my texts so I got worried and came here and, well—I wasn’t sure who to call when the sheriff is the one missing.”

She invited him in—or tried to, but she was trembling so much, she could barely get the key in the lock. Not until his steady hand wrapped around hers and helped.

Once inside, she nearly collapsed just closing the door—both out of relief, and because her adrenaline was finally wearing off. But Ian caught her. And for the first time in years, she let herself be comforted by someone else. (She didn’t cry—she wasn’t ready for that kind of vulnerability yet—but this was kind of a big deal.)

“Do you want me to stay on the couch again tonight?” he murmured when she began to sway, fatigue winning over. She shook her head into his shoulder. (Also: he smelled good. Like, real good.) “Should…should I go?” She shook her head again.

Emma wasn’t a spooner. She took what she needed and then she left. But that was the night she understood why people enjoyed it so much. And waking up still wrapped in his strong arms was a kind of comfort she hadn’t known existed.

There was a brief—but weird—reprieve from the emotional heaviness when it turned out Kathryn Nolan was miraculously alive (despite her heart supposedly being outside her body), and then they held a party to welcome Mary Margaret back home. She shared (more than) a few drinks with Ian after the former; their first official outing as a couple, if it could be called that, was the latter. Mary Margaret arched an eyebrow and smirked at her as she and Ian moved around the kitchen getting ready. Emma just blushed—and then blushed harder when Ian pressed a quick kiss on her cheek as he stepped past her.

Then August kind of went crazy—his offer of help in dealing with the Regina-Sidney-whatever turned into another journey of emotional whiplash. She slumped onto what had become her usual stool at the bar, just a few minutes before close. Ian put some tea in front of her rather than anything stronger and took her upstairs after he’d locked up. He lived there, apparently, in a pretty spartan studio apartment.

“Tell me,” he said gently. Not long ago, she would have brushed something like that off—but not anymore; not with him.

“I’m just tired of all this crap. Not just Regina—the whole curse thing, too. It was fine when it was Henry and I could play along, but now August? And he just—expected me to solve his problem? Just like that? No—no way.” She sighed. “It’s like everyone wants something from me or to fit some role; no one wants just Emma.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” he teased lightly. “Because I do.”

Well. She couldn’t argue with that.

And it became all the more obvious when she attacked his lips—and realized the rest of him was in agreement. She’d hesitated to take their relationship to that level; physical relationships were what she was used to, but adding in the emotional layer was something else—something more.

But, as she learned, that was in a good way.

And while drifting off into a post-coital slumber while wrapped in Ian’s steady arms, she didn’t really care what went on in the outside world—as long as she had this.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Should have known that’s when it would all really, truly crash down on her. Henry—god—seeing him in that hospital bed…and not being able to do anything…but it worked: she believed. In magic, the curse—everything. (Especially once Regina confirmed it.)

So now she was on a mission, practically storming from the hospital—when she ran into a pair of arms she’d give anything to just be able to take shelter in right now. “Love—is Henry okay? What’s going on?”

For a minute, she just looked in Ian’s eyes: that now-familiar blue that carried a wisdom beyond his years and echoed his every emotion, so different now from when she’d first met him—but in a good way. The way his worry creased his brow, the weight of his hand on her waist. If the world was about to change, she wanted to memorize him—them—in this moment. “Is everything alright?” he asked again.

She rose up on her toes to give him a firm, but all-too-brief kiss. “It fucking will be,” she told him, then ran off to save the world—or something.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

An eternity later (really only a couple hours, but holy shit did it feel longer), she had fought a dragon and then apparently broken a goddamn curse with True Love’s Kiss. All that really mattered was that Henry was okay, but all around her, everyone was coming to terms with what had been done to all of them.

She’d never expected to find out the waitress was a werewolf, or the therapist was a freaking cricket—and really never thought she’d be reunited with her parents. It was amazing, but it was also a lot.

She left Henry with his grandparents—god, grandparents—so she could take a minute and just—breathe.

The salty sea air hit her nose and she realized her feet had taken her to the docks. The view of the sea was soothing, but then she saw someone else there taking in the horizon—someone familiar. He wore the same clothes—the same motorcycle jacket, the black sweater that fit him extremely well, atop his usual dark jeans. But rather than the hand-like prosthesis she’d come to recognize, there was a hook—a freaking stereotypical pirate hook—at the end of his left arm.

(Henry had told her the fairytale counterpart of just about everyone in town—except for Ian. The illustrations in his book were good but maybe not distinct and there were a few options. She had a pretty good idea who it was narrowed down to now, though.)

“Ian?” she asked as she approached, partly to get his attention—and partly because she wasn’t sure who she was talking to.

He turned at the sound of her voice, but looked confused. Until he blinked and shook his head. “Aye, it’s me,” he answered, moving toward her. “My real name, though—it’s Killian, Killian Jones; it…took me a minute there.”

Killian. Similar, but different. It suited him.

But also: Kill-Ian—was the man she held so important now gone, effectively killed by his new—true—self?

“So…how much was real? About you?” she had to ask.

“Some of it.” Apparently that nervous ear scratch carried over. “I am—was—am? A pirate, for decades, until I was caught.”

“Captain Hook?” she wondered, nodding at his prosthesis.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he smirked. It was similar to the one she knew—the same dimple—but it had a darker edge to it.

“Who hasn’t?” she replied, ignoring the bit of discomfort that was…well, adding to her overall sense of unease.

“The truth—my actual life—is a bit more gruesome than what I once told you. I wanted revenge for the murder of my love. That part was true—she had been the Dark One’s wife, and he killed her, then took my hand.” He emphasized it by toying with the (rather sharp) end of his hook.

Right; Mr. Gold was apparently—actually—a centuries-old sorcerer. “I’m not gonna have to lock you up for going after him, am I?”

“No. See, I got sloppy; I lost sight of things, and that’s how I was caught—by your parents’ kingdom, actually. Was about to be hanged when the Evil Queen’s knight rescued me. Graham.” Her heart skipped a beat. “In return, I offered them my services should they ever need them. Never heard from them again, and then got swept up in the curse.”

She swallowed. “Did she ever take you up on it? During the curse?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“So, us…” God, she couldn’t even put it into words. If what they’d shared wasn’t…hadn’t meant…she couldn’t fathom.

He very quickly moved into her space and took her hand. “That was very real, Swan.” His gaze had never felt more intense as he went on. “It was my understanding that the curse twisted things—changed us. I had always been someone who felt things very strongly and deeply; it’s why I was so single-mindedly focused on revenge for decades. But then under the curse…I felt nothing—not a bloody thing, for years on end—until I met you, and it all came back. It was like my heart was turned back on—like you brought me back to life.” He rubbed his coarse thumb over the back of her hand. “I know you’re probably questioning things again—especially given that you don’t fully know me, the real version, now—but Emma, I still know you, and I still desperately want you.”

She sighed in relief and nearly sagged into his arms. “Good. Because I think I love you.”

He smiled; it started as a small thing, but he couldn’t hold back from turning into a grin. “That’s appropriate, because I’m fairly certain I love you, too.”

There was a lot she needed to figure out—her life was all kinds of a mess right now—but him—this—whoever he was, he was hers. Even if she didn’t fully know him, it still felt like her heart fit right in the palm of his hand (and vice versa).

She wasted no further time in wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his; he was equally quick to reciprocate.

And, actually? Killian kissed even better than Ian did.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

thanks for reading! Tagging some friends (including the fabulous and supportive Word Forge): @ohmightydevviepuu @shireness-says @iverna @thejollyroger-writer @wistfulcynic @phiralovesloki @initiala @idoltina @xpumpkindumplingx @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @colinoeyebrows @pirateherokillian @annytecture @stubblesandwich @wingedlioness @scientificapricot @snowbellewells @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 and I know there's more I tend to include but tumblr is being weird about it rn.

#cs ff #captain swan #cursed killian au #spartanguard: from the vault #my ff

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save-the-villainous-cat · 1 year

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Cat’s 3K Series

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Part One

Most of the time, the sheer ignorance people have absorbed within leads to an irrevocable consequence, something that hits them so hard they would’ve never seen it coming. Some blame it on destiny, others will say it’s a coincidence. But the hero knew better than anyone else that this was not the truth.

They alone decided their destiny. They were the creator of their own world and despite the challenges and downfalls, they knew it was them who decided what their future could hold.

Maybe the villain’s fate would’ve been a different one — definitely, if they hadn’t let their guard down, if they hadn’t been ignorant of the hero’s moves.

But now they were here, wheezing on the ground, blood running down their chin. The hero had managed to hit their face, making a nosebleed impossible to avoid.

“What a shame,” the hero said, clicking with their tongue. They toyed with their weapon lazily and tilted their head. Today they felt capricious, interestingly so. It was always the villain. The villain who gave them a kick only a drug could. With a gravitational pull that forced them to come closer and get stung. “You have such a pretty face, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

The hero dropped to their knees and got a grip on the villain’s jaw, drawing them closer.

“Forgive me, will you?” They smeared the villain’s blood across their chin with their thumb, putting pressure on a forming bruise.

Unfortunately, the villain showed no reaction.

“I wonder what you look like when you smile,” the hero said.

“Go fuck yourself,” the villain answered dryly and the hero found nothing but hostility in their voice. What a lovely individual.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” the hero said, grinning from ear to ear. They loved playing cat and mouse with the villain but they were here for information. “I’m crestfallen when you’re unsatisfied. I have ways to make you talk. Involving handcuffs, rope, gags…whatever you want.”

They winked at the villain, amused at their own choice of words. No matter what they had to do to get the villain to break, they’d do it. Or so they believed. Sometimes, their own desires would get ahead of them.

“How many times do I have to tell you to suck on a di—” The hero grabbed the villain’s hair and pulled until they yelped, shutting them up successfully.

“Fine,” they murmured. Their heart was beating in their chest and they were sweating, fingers shaking a little. They were sure it was the adrenaline but that didn’t mean they liked it. “Personally, I couldn’t care less. But the agency really doesn’t like it that you have these codes…”

They drew circles around an open wound on the villain��s torso with their fingertip, getting dangerously close to the cut. The villain gasped when the hero put more pressure onto the skin. Intrusive thoughts could lead them on strange paths, the hero had discovered. Sometimes, they were able to resist them but every now and then…

“Give them to me,” they purred. “And you won’t have to scream all night.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The hero sunk their finger into the open wound and twisted, curled even. It wasn’t at all like they’d imagined. They’d thought this wouldn’t affect them, wouldn’t touch them at all but something about the villain’s screams unlocked a horrible memory that was ripping at their heartstrings. Fuck.

Efficiency was a great thing, they told themselves. This hurt, it didn’t kill the villain, right?

They pulled out the bloody finger and let it cool in the chilly air of the warehouse. Looking down at their nemesis, they felt like they’d made a mistake, going too far for the first time. God, sometimes the hero thought the past was pulling them back and dipping them into dark matter to transform them into an alternative version. But this was the enemy…the stupidly pretty enemy.

But no. It wasn’t too much. There was no too much. The villain had many enemies, they’d even come here injured already. This was normal for them.

“Okay,” the hero said, only a little shaky. “Let’s try this again.”

They forced a smirk to their face, thought of a stupidly flirty line.

“I wonder if it always feels this warm when I’m inside you.” The villain threw a death glare at them, annoyed and the hero was sure they’d try to murder them if they weren’t this injured and exhausted.

They were about to say something — probably another insult —but the beeping of the hero’s device interrupted them.

“C’mon…” They loosened their grip on the villain’s hair and slid back down to their throat, closing their fingers around it. The hero stared at their enemy. The blood, the intensity of their eye colour, the dried tears on their cheeks. “Don’t move.”

The villain didn’t answer, just stared as the hero checked their tech. Reinforcement arriving in 8 minutes.

“Alright, time to get out of here.” They overwhelmed the villain easily, turned them around and pushed their head into the concrete. The hero’s knee pressed into the wonderfully soft spot between their shoulder blades, making the villain groan.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t fantasised about this before,” the hero said. Flirty. Casual. They should’ve stuck to that, not brute violence, right?

They found their handcuffs and forced the villain’s wrists together. The satisfying clicking reached down into the hero’s subconsciousness to gnaw on their bones. Improvising was half of this business. And yet, they didn’t know if it was smart to push the villain into their car.

And though they were fairly aware of their competence, they doubted themselves even more when they pushed the villain into their apartment.

#make some room for the afterlife #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #heroxvillain #hero x villain #request #3K

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farolero-posting · 6 months

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Spring Cleaning

Hey! Happy 7th anniversary to OneShot!

I wanted to make something special for this day, and I would say this is... a little messy, but I think it is fitting for this day. OneShot is a really cool game, and most importantly, a unique experience, and I wanted to capture a little of that.

Without further delay, enjoy!

Summary: Niko does some chores and gets distracted.

Words: 1,674

(Click below to see the full fic)

Today was seasonal cleaning day, and Niko… was getting a little exhausted by now.

The teenager picked up the folder with yellowed paper sticking out of it, located at the bottom of the messy pile in the room’s top shelf, huffing from the effort to get it out of the shelf. The folder was a bright orange color, and had a sticker of an owl on the cover, their favorite animal. The art had smooth round shapes, giving the animal a cartoony look. There was a messier version of the same drawing, made with black pencil, where some of the lines were drawn several times to ensure the graphite would stick, making small dents on the plastic.

Recognition flashed on the teen’s eyes. They had not looked at this folder for… quite some time, actually. There was a period where they had looked at its contents as many times as they could, using the contents to evoke the memories of that journey.

They opened the folder, and giggled at the first doodle that greeted them.

Why was a ram with “baa” in scary letters the one they put on top? Heheh, maybe their past self wanted to play a prank on them. The drawing had a date on it, like most others.

Exactly seven years ago, to be precise.

Niko’s eyes were wide open, and they had to resist the urge to jump out of their position, standing on their desk’s chair. They closed the folder, pressing it against their body, and crouched down at a slow but shaky pace, before sitting on the chair, with one leg pressed against their body, and the other stretched, reaching for the floor.

“I didn’t know this was all the way up there… It’s been so long!” was all they could mutter.

It felt like a lifetime ago… though, while that is true, they still have a long life ahead, don’t they? Seven years was indeed almost half of their life, but seven years is nothing compared to what they have ahead of them.

It was weird to think of it that way now. Many things change over the years.

The first month, they had taken days to make a drawing for everything that was in their mind, scared of losing the memory.

When they turned nine, they started telling their dreams to their mama, so they could both remember.

When they were ten they even wrote a little about their journey for a school project… trying not to mention the fact it was all based on a real story.

They were around twelve when they first felt… an empty dread, looking at these drawings.

There was one page, at the bottom of the pile, that caught their attention. It was a drawing of the top room of the tower; it wasn’t lit up yet, however. They had gone out of their way to paint the borders in purple pencil, the page curling around the corners.

At the time, they hadn’t known what to do. They were at the peak of the world, and yet they felt they were at the bottom, holding it all together.

And you were… well.

When they were young, you were everything. You were Niko’s one company through it all. They barely knew you, but they trusted you fully.

The last time Niko looked at this particular drawing, a few years ago, their thoughts had been bitter.

Maybe that’s why it had been so long since they looked at the folder.

You… They knew you were their guide, but you also made choices that felt unfair.

Why did you present the choice?

Why did you wait so long for that?

What secrets did you keep from them?

And why go through all of it, only to discover that you could undo it, later on?

Niko was grateful to be home, but… they didn’t understand you.

And you couldn’t answer them, either.

Because you’re not a god.

And you’re not there anymore.

Back then, both you and Niko were told you had one chance on your mission. And so Niko had taken care of the lightbulb that represented the sun of this world, following your words. It was a long journey, but you listened to them, and kept them safe. However… even with their best efforts, there was no choice at the end that would save both Niko, and that decaying land..

So Niko placed that choice on you. If Niko had been older, maybe they would have questioned this more. They would have more ways to look at the situation, to weigh down their options, and maybe take longer to finally make a decision. Instead, in both more and less time than they expected, but certainly a wrong amount of time, you told them what path they had to take. And Niko, respecting the wishes of the world’s god, had done it.

Except you weren’t god. You were someone looking at them through a window, generating the world that had imprisoned them, but not belonging to it. When Niko was twelve, they had realized that whatever the first choice was, the impact on you would not have been as big as it was for them.

They were angry back then… But now…

Now they couldn’t hold it against you. They knew better… and funnily enough, they remember their youngest self knowing better, too.

Niko placed the drawing aside, and as they did that, another one slipped out of the folder. This one was a drawing of pancakes with syrup. They weren’t the hazelnut ones their mama made (and now Niko makes them for her, too!), but they remember they were delicious, with a hint of a flavor they couldn’t quite name. The teen wondered if it was a product of that world that only existed there. Now, their older self with a hobby for baking, wished they could know what it was.

They remembered going there, right before the tower. Niko had asked you if it was okay to make a stop for some food, and you had taken them to the cafe, where they had gotten those pancakes. They knew you listened to them, and not only that, that you wanted to comfort them too, in any limited way you could.

The next drawing they got from the pile showed a view from the top of the Refuge, taken from one of the tallest buildings. Niko’s town was close to a river too, but it wasn’t as close as the ones flowing around the Refuge. It wasn’t glowing pink, either. Niko had been to a big city now too, but it wasn’t anything like the one in that world. The Refuge was a unique city, among thousands of them.

They remember you said you lived in a city, and they could only imagine it was like the Refuge, for years. Now they recognized there were many more options for what a city or a town could look like.

The next drawings were of the friends Niko met. Though they wish their artistic skills did them more justice, they couldn’t help but look at them fondly for what they represented. What would be of those people now? Do Calamus and Alula still live in the ruins? Is the robot lady —the drawing says her name is Silver— still in the Barrens? Did the Mr. Lamplighter get to sleep more with the Sun back? They smiled, thinking of the possibilities.

Niko stumbled upon a drawing of the computers that made up the World Machine, and took it out to hold it closer, the glow in their eyes slightly reflecting on the paper. They remember drawing the screens with a ruler, to make sure it looked as good as a blueprint (but they know now that blueprints are more complicated than that). They also drew the Author’s children and themself on that page, holding the sun. It was them who reminded Niko what all the effort not to forget was for.

And Niko would not have known of them without your help. Because you…, though you weren’t a god, you wanted to do something to save both Niko and everyone else. You cared enough to try to be more than just a guide, but someone who believed in a second chance as well. Someone convinced they were all worth it.

The last drawing on the pile was a journal with a yellow clover on the cover, along with the amber necklace, a glowing feather, and a six sided die. Niko never met the creator of that world in person. They simply had his letters, words of others and objects to remember him by.

They understood why their mama gave them a hat passed down by her parents. They understood why she kept all their silly drawings.

And why hazelnut pancakes would be their favorite food forever, over any other kind of pancake.

They breathed in when they felt themself run out of air, and the shivering of their body almost made them burst into tears. You were a guide, a ghost and… a friend. And all they had of you was the memories of your voice.

Niko wondered if you missed them, if you would be happy to see them today. Niko didn’t narrate their thoughts aloud anymore, their life was also more hectic and complicated. They sometimes thought their younger self was a little silly. They were far from the child you knew.

But it was good to be there. To look at those old drawings, and get that same joy out of them. To enjoy the chances that were given to them, and know that, in some distant place, you are still with them, getting your own chances.

Niko took a blank page from a stack on their desk and a pencil from their first drawer, and put something on it that reminded them of you, placing it on the top of the ram doodle.

They hoped it would be the first thing they saw the next time they opened the folder.

#oneshot game #oneshotgame #niko #the player #happy anniversary guys c:#by far NOT my most polished work lmao #it's something a little messy that you would write while doing spring cleaning... which is ad hoc for the contents of the fic tbf #my writing #but i hope it at least does Something to you #only posting this one on tumblr for now

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