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kiibichio · 2 months

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SAY IT ✩ C. STURNIOLO

OVERVIEW ;; last time you and your boyfriend, chris, had sex, his brothers heard you, you two played it off and managed not to get caught. but ever since, you’ve been insecure about your volume.. so you try to hide your noises, but chris fixes that.

CONTAINS ;; dom ! chris, sub ! reader, no use of y/n, begging kink (?), hella praise

mora speaks ;; so i was listening to say it by tory lanez and i thought abt this fic . then it left my mind 😭 THEN i saw an EDIT OF CHRIS to the song and i knew i just had to get this done. SO HERE WE AREE !! ENJOY 🙏🏾 (btw we jump straight into the story so buckle up)

date published ;; 3.20.24

not proofread

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4:11 pm

chris slams his lips onto mine while grabbing my hips and positioning me so im straddling him.

“god, baby..” he mumbles onto my mouth, “ive been waiting to do this since you got here..”

i came over to my boyfriend, chris’, house to visit my him and my friends (nick and matt). although they left about 20 minutes after i got here. claiming they were ‘getting food’ but they would probably be a while considering they never come straight back home. chris immediately took his chance and dragged me downstairs to his room eagerly. as soon as he got in he began taking his hoodie off and throwing on the floor, followed by mine. which brings us here.

after a good 5 minutes of making out, chris stops. he realizes he hadn’t gotten a sound out of me at all, which is odd because im usually the most vocal out of us two. this whole time it’s been ‘so good baby’ and ‘i missed you so much’ combined with small whimpers and quiet groans from chris. but none from me.

“hey, you’re real quiet. something wrong, ma? is it me?” he genuinely looks at me.

i sigh. there was something wrong.

“no, no! chris, baby, you did nothing wrong. you’re doing great. it’s just..”

“you can tell me. im here to listen and i won’t judge.” chris reassures me as he rubs my shoulder

“well.. it’s just- ever since that one time last week. you know, when matt and nick heard us?”

he nods, making eye contact with me.

“ive been thinking im too loud and extra… so im trying to change that. i don’t want to be an inconvenience to everyone else.”

which was true because who wants to hear me and chris fuck everytime we do. that’s also embarrassing to deal with. getting weird looks from your friends because of something that you’re were supposed to keep private, but couldn’t because of your volume? crazy.

he stares at me for a moment. did i say something wrong? then he chuckles.

“hey! what are you laughing for? i thought you said you wouldn’t judge.” i huff, pouting my lips and crossing my arms.

he throws his head back and continues to laugh, “baby.. are you serious? matt and nick aren’t even here right now.”

i look away from him, arms still crossed.

“hey. look at me, ma.” chris grabs hold of my chin and moves it, forcing me to make direct eye contact with him, “i do not care if my brothers hear us. i swear. i want everyone to know that you’re mine and im yours. i need to hear you say it. make all the noise you want, baby.”

“are you sure, chris?” i ask hesitantly

“100% positive”

he doesn’t let me respond again and immediately starts kissing me. he moves his hands up and down my body slowly, his left hand going to my ass and the right one moving to unclasps my bra under my shirt. he breaks away and his mouth travels towards my neck and chest area.

“mmh.. chris..” i whine.

“there’s my girl, keep those same pretty noises up for me while im inside of you.” he smirks against my collarbone.

he flips us over as to where im laying down on my back and he’s hovering over me. he starts moving his face downwards, leaving a trail of kisses on my stomach behind him. he hurriedly takes my pants and underwear off with one pull.

“ready, ma?” he breathes against my heat

“mhm..” i whimper

“louder, i can’t hear you.” he says teasingly

“yes, chris, please just touch me” i say, starting to beg, which i know he likes.

“whatever you say, princess.” he gives a sly grin before completely going down on me, eating as if this is his last meal.

“ohhh… fuckkkkk, just like that chris. keep going baby.” i moan loudly

chris smirks against me. hearing my noises is just turning him on even more. this makes him move his mouth faster. he loudly slurps and licks on me, trying to get more noises out of me as he lets his own out himself. my legs start to wriggle and close a bit, trying to get more pleasure. chris takes notice of this and holds them open and still with his left hand, his right being occupied with my clit, which he was toying with at a rapid pace.

“mmh.. taste s’good, baby. s’good.” he moans, face deep in my pussy, moving and hitting all the right places. he starts to quickly motion his tongue in and out of me. hands still on my clit and legs, holding them open.

“mghh.. yes, chris right there!” i yell out as my legs start shaking “b-baby, im about to-”

“do it. cum all over my face ma.” he mumurs

with one final flick of my clit, i burst and my juices start rolling onto chris’s mouth. he happily laps all of it up.

chris lifts himself up to give me a slow, heated kiss, making me taste myself on his tongue.

“you’re so good, princess. lets see if you can be even louder.” he smirks, winking at me.

he pulls his sweatpants down, his boxers following after. he gives himself a few pumps, spreading the precum all over his dick. chris looks up at me.

“ready, baby?” he asks, sweetly, lining himself up with me.

“yes, chris.. please” i whimper

he gives a small, silent chuckle at my begging before pushing himself all the way in me. he gives me a few seconds to adjust before slamming in and out of me.

“ohhh! oh my g-god…” i moan out

“yea, baby. say it. who’s making you feel like this?” he asks, relentlessly pounding into me

“you! fuckkkkk.. you chris. only y-you baby mmm..” i yell

all that’s heard now is the sound of squelching, coming from the spot where me and chris connect, moans, groans, whimpers and whines from the both of us, and skin slapping. a few moments later, he speeds up, now rapidly thrusting against me.

“chris! oh. shit shit shit shit. b-baby im close!” i warn, my legs starting to shake and my body starting to tremble under him.

“c’mon, baby. let it all out on me.” i can tell he’s close to by the way he tightens his grip on my waist and his thrusts get faster and sloppier.

“fill me up, baby. p-please.” i request.

that sentence alone makes him cum right there. and im close behind him, letting out a pornographic moan as i let my liquids out. chris’ thrusts slow down as he lets both of us ride out our high.

he pulls out and falls beside me as we take a few moments to breathe.

“that was great, baby.” he smiles at me, turning on his side so he can look at me.

“yea, you did amazing” i reply, giving him a smile as well

“im gonna go get a towel to clean us up.” he lifts himself up and makes his way to the bathroom. he returns with a damp towel and wipes me down. after that, we both get up to get dressed and make our way back to the living room. we put on a movie and wait for matt and nick to get back.

“ma.” chris looks at me.

“yes, baby?”

“do me a favor and don’t ever hide those pretty sounds from me again.” he says

“you got it baby” i laugh as i pull him and give him a soft kiss.

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mora speaks (again) ;; lmk if you guys enjoyed this oneee. i really liked writing because this is my first chris smut ‼️ ALSO MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN SO REQUEST AWAYYY. (might take me some time to do them but i will get to them !!) TOODLES <3

tag list ;; @sturniolos-blog @mayhem-72 @hearts4chris 🍵

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lovelyney · 1 year

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─────────𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒──────

DESC: “Maybe he shouldn’t have hidden his feelings behind harsh words and accusations,” he thought as he stared at your lifeless body.

PAIRINGS: Tighnari x (GN!) Reader

SCENT: angst

WARNINGS: hanahaki, throwing up, blood, tighnari’s a dick, dead dove do not eat.

GOOD ENDING.

FLORIST’S NOTE: here it is! finally. also, autosave feature? bless u, tumblr gods.

FLORIST’S NOTE﹙02﹚: uh Fawn here a few months after this was published </3 i'm super flattered you all like this so much; truthfully, i'm very insecure about my ability to write good angst, so it means so much!!

SONG: Secret Garden ― Empath-P

YOU OBSERVED WITH DEFEATED EYES as Tighnari, yet again, swaddled your hands in gauze. You tried to take out a Withering Zone by yourself, wanting to help clear his schedule. However, despite having a vision of your own, you weren’t very familiar with the process and ended up getting hurt, much to the forest ranger’s dismay.

Your throat ran dry as you struggled to find the right words to say without upsetting him more. It was clear he was about to snap at any moment, so you chose to stay silent, despite your anxiety eating away at the stillness.

“(NAME) for the last time, stop biting off more than you can chew,” the fox-eared boy berated, his gaze as bitter as the medicine he brews. “What was the point in bothering with something you clearly had no idea how to deal with? were you begging for a death wish?”

You swallowed thickly, your stomach churning as he awaited your response. “My only intention was to take some of the burdens off your shoulders. . .” You answered feebly.

With an exasperated sigh, he rubbed his temples in frustration. “So you wanted to help me and ended up doing the exact opposite? Yeah, that sounds about right.

“(NAME) this is what? The fifth time you’ve gotten yourself hurt trying to ‘help?’ Don’t you realize you’re only making things harder for the both of us?” Tighnari crossed his arms against his chest, growing more impatient with you by the minute. “Achons, we’re going to run out of medical supplies if you keep getting into situations like these. Can’t you learn to take a hint?”

The harsh tone of his voice engulfed you in shame, his words ripping your heart into shreds. “I—I just—” your attempt to defend yourself was met with the burning stare of his multicolored eyes.

He chastised, “save it, (NAME). You give me the same exact excuse every. single. time. Taking care of you like this again is already a migraine as it is.” With that, he packed the medical supplies into his backpack, not sparing you another glance.

Tighnari criticizing and reminding you how all you do is pull everyone down had become routine by this point. He never told you directly that burdened everyone, yet he clearly didn’t care about hurting your feelings, so you never understood why he didn’t just give it to you straight.

He never acted so rashly to the other trainees, so it led you to believe that it was personal. That said, you don’t know what you did to make him hate you so much. And to add salt to the wound, you admired Tighnari a lot. Hidden beneath his sarcastic nature, he was diligent and dedicated to his work. You could tell he cared for everyone within the confines of the forest, although you highly doubted that to be your case.

As you carefully observed him, you not-so-surprisingly developed feelings for him. You find it hard to believe now, but he treated you gently when you first met him. That memory felt so foreign after all he did was suffocate you with his accusations. Since then, you shoveled your feelings into the very back of your mind.

“Are you even listening, (NAME)?” badgered Tighnari, snapping you out of your depressive reverie.

Nodding slowly, you chewed the inside of your cheek, feeling your emotions consume you from the inside out. “Y—Yes, of course, Master. . .”

“Really? Because ever since I got here, you’ve done nothing but stare at the ground helplessly.” He shook his head and sighed in defeat, “whatever. It’s not like you ever heed my advice anyways.

“Collei and I are going to be gone for a few days on an expedition. You are not to leave Gandhara Ville until I return. Do I make myself clear?” he said, his large ears flicking in aggravation.

That immediately grabbed your attention as your eyes shot open. You deflected, “I—I’m sorry?! Tighnari, I get that you’re mad at me and all, but I am not a child! I don’t need supervision!” Your face burned hot with humiliation as tears formed in your eyes.

Tighnari’s eyes softened briefly at your defeated expression before returning to their normal venomous state. “Then quit giving me a reason to treat you like one, (NAME). Now, I’ll be taking my leave.” Before you could answer, he left your room, leaving you alone in your misery.

After a few minutes of silence, Collei wandered in, her gaze saddening as she regarded your trembling figure. “Oh, (NAME). . .” She lamented and sat next to you, gingerly wrapping her arms around you. “I’m—I’m sorry. . . I don’t know why he’s been treating you so horribly lately; he’s usually never like this. . .” Muttered the girl as she rubbed circles on your back. “I’ll talk to him, o-okay? Please don’t cry. . .”

Withdrawing from your friend’s hold, you rubbed away your tears with a forced smile in hopes of comforting her. “Don’t worry about me, Collei. I’ll—I’ll be alright,” you soothed, your weakened voice revealing the truth behind your words.

Tighnari peeked his head over the opening, swallowing thickly when he noticed your tear-stained cheeks. “Collei, come with me, would you? I need to have a word with you.” He dictated, averting his regard away from you.

The girl perked up, “y—yes, Master!” She stood up and turned to you, carefully bringing your head to her chest once more. “I’ll figure something out, okay? D—Don’t worry,” she assured before bidding you goodbye and following Tighnari out.

After the two left your line of sight, your throat and chest tightened. Scrambling into the bathroom, you stumbled over, suddenly coughing violently. You wiped the sweat from your temple, sighing in relief when it ceased. “What caused that I wonder?” You questioned and fluttered open your eyes. While staring downward at what appeared to be lotus petals, you suddenly felt overwhelming dizzy. Had it gotten that bad?

Your hands clutched your chest as bile burned your esophagus. You weakly shoved yourself up and flushed the toilet. You knew that hanahaki was life-threatening if not treated immediately. However, confessing seemed impossible given the circumstances of your relationship and who you’re in love with. Your other option was to have it surgically removed, but that also meant removing your capability to feel emotions. Nevertheless, you wanted to be a forest ranger like Tighnari and help people, so you’d much rather die of the flower that bloomed in your chest than be an empty husk and not feel anything.

Laying on your bed, you watched Tighnari and Collei converse—probably about your probation if you were to be completely honest. You let out a meek laugh and closed your eyes, allowing your body and mind some well-deserved rest.

“Maybe if this disease takes me, I won’t burden him anymore. . .”

The following morning was horrible. Following your wake-up, you had to race to the bathroom to throw up again; your lungs and chest burned from how fierce the fits were. Making matters worse, you got far from enough sleep because of the feeling of lotuses climbing your throat.

“(NAME)? It’s Collei! I just wanted to check on you before Master and I head out!”

Your eyes flew open at your friend’s voice. Shit. She wouldn’t take this well at all. Quickly flushing the toilet, you grabbed a towel and patted your face dry, hoping your tiredness wasn’t evident.

“(NAME)? Are—are you alright?” She worried and walked into your bedroom. Her expression dimmed upon taking in your condition. “You look so tired! Did you not get enough sleep?” Fuck.

You compelled a weak smile, “I—I’m fine! Don’t worry about me, I’m just a little—” Your sentence stopped midway as you covered your mouth, hacking up more bloodied petals. Your hanahaki did not seem to appreciate you lying about your feelings for the sake of others.

Collei paled immensely, her hand going to mimic your own. “(NAME). . . You—you’re. . .” Tears welled in her rose-colored eyes as she watched you recover. “We have to tell—”

“NO!” you interjected sharply. Sighing, you let out a quiet apology. “I—I’m sorry. . . I didn’t mean to yell like that. I just. . . please don’t tell Tighnari.” You muttered, voice enfeebled from your lack of sleep.

“B—But, (NAME). . . If y-you don’t get help. . .”

“I know. But I don’t think I can take any more of his disdains. especially when he’s—” You, or rather the hanahaki, cut you off as more petals emerged from your throat and onto your shaking hands.

Seeing the connection, her eyes softened. She lamented, “oh, (NAME). . . You like him, don’t you?” Her arms circled around you, “please, I—I don’t want to lose you. I promise I’ll talk him into apologizing! You don’t deserve this. . .”

Shaking your head, you gently patted the girl’s hair, her heartfelt words shattering your heart furthermore. “Collei, I—I’m not sure I can promise anything at this rate. . .” You imparted. “I’m not sure if Tighnari is someone you can reason with, as well. . .”

“Collei? It’s time to go,” Tighnari announced from outside. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. . .

The green-haired girl pulled away from you, looking at your (COLOR) eyes with her own pleading ones. “Everything will be alright, okay? I promise. . .” She sniffled.

You nodded despite your views contradicting hers. Watching her leave, your gaze, hopeless and cold, flickered to Tighnari. You couldn’t help but wonder what occupied his mind; has he even thought of you and how you felt once? Probably not.

The fox-eared ranger caught a glimpse of your eyes and shivered; that’s right, shivered. The way they looked so dull put a pit in his stomach, and he couldn’t tell why at the time. He looked at his student curiously, “what were you two talking about?”

Collei sighed, “i-it was nothing, Master. . .”

The realization that you didn’t have much time left dawned on you as you gazed in the mirror. Your once bright and lively eyes were now dulled and impassive, almost as if you’d already gotten the surgery. You heeded Tighnari’s words, staying locked inside your hut and not bothering anybody. After all, that’s what he wanted, right?

Your condition worsened faster than you initially hoped. Every day and night, you retched at least five blood-covered lotuses, leaving you more weakened than the last. You couldn’t even estimate how much blood you had lost by now. With each passing second, your life slipped from your fingers like grains of sand. It seemed to tease you with the thought of death, never actually finishing you off—until now. In most cases, people have at least a few weeks to make the choice; you, unfortunately, did not with how fast your feelings developed.

Reaching up, you wiped the blood from your lips, leaving a metallic taste in your mouth. Normally you would be grossed out by it, but it was almost comforting by now because it signaled you didn’t have to endure this pain much longer.

You staggered to your desk and pulled out a few things: an envelope, a piece of paper, and a quill. Your fingers trembled as you dipped the feather in ink and scrawled the name ‘Tighnari’ on the envelope. He’d admonish you for the handwriting, but when you’re on death’s doorstep, you can’t really expect perfect writing, can you?

With an unstable breath, you began composing the letter with all the energy you could gather.

“Dear, Master Tighnari. . .”

Tighnari took a deep breath as the faint outline of Gandhara Ville came into his field of vision. Ever since had and Collei finished the expedition, this dreadful feeling like something horrible happened stuck to him like a leech. And no matter what he did, it continued to suck the energy out of him. In retrospect, he’s had this feeling since he left. Worse part about it? He couldn’t figure out why; it’s like he could sense an anomaly but couldn’t see it.

Collei quickly picked on her teacher’s anxiety and flashed a smile, hoping to comfort him. “M—Master, I’m sure everything will be fine! You know how nice (NAME) is! I’m—I’m sure they’ll forgive you! they’re normally so sweet no matter the circumstances!” She encouraged, though, deep within her mind, she was scared herself. She knew how much his words impacted you.

Tighnari dragged out a sigh, his fingers going through his dark hair. “That’s. . . That’s the problem, Collei. I. . . I treated them so fucking awful, and all they did was sit there and take it they didn’t dare speak up,” he seethed, wincing as he recalled the look in your eyes before they departed. “Archons, who knows if they’ll find it in their heart to even forgive me? I treated them like a toddler when I really meant to protect them. God, my delivery was fucking horrid, wasn’t it? I really messed this up.” He looked at Collei with defeated eyes, “That’s what you were talking to them about, wasn’t it? How vile I treated them. That’s why they were crying the other day.”

The trainee harshly bit her lip, knowing that’s exactly what happened. She knew that he treated you like a weed in a garden full of lotuses when in reality, you were the flowers themself. And now, with your hanahaki, Celestia knows how much pain you must be in—both physically and emotionally.

Only then did she remember that you had gotten hanahaki the day they left, and her heart sank. She swallowed hard, feeling her heart weigh heavy in her chest as it pounded against her ribcage. “Um, M—Master Tighnari. . .” she quavered.

He glanced her way, the pit in his stomach swallowing him whole when he regarded how horrified she appeared to be. “Hm? What’s the matter, Collei?” Inquired the boy, his ears flickering in nervous anticipation. Oh god, did something actually happen to you?

“I—I normally wouldn’t ask of you something like this, but please, when we get back, g-go check on them? They’re. . . they’re not well. . . ” She uttered aside, her voice wobbling as if she was on the brink of tears.

Her words confirmed Tighnari’s initial thoughts; there was something wrong. “Collei. . . what happened?” he spoke curtly. Hearing no answer, his chest tightened, and he could hear his breathing pick up. “Collei. Tell me now. I need to know if they’re in danger.” His voice rattled as he communicated, his anxiety clawing at his every thought.

Collei’s shoulders shook with small sobs, “(NAME). . . They—they have Hanahaki. They didn’t want me to tell you because t-they hic knew you’d yell at them in some sort of way. . . A-and they’ve had it for a few days now and—”

“—Collei, I need you to be honest with me. Does (NAME) have romantic feelings for me?”

Glancing up at her teacher with a pitiful expression, she wiped her eyes with her sleeves. “Yes, Master, t—they do. . . I believe they have for a while,” she sniveled.

“Fuck.” He muttered and sprinted towards the ville, leaving poor Collei behind. However, at that time, I don’t think she minded; she recognized that he needed to find you as soon as possible—to save you.

Pushing past everyone in the village, he shoved himself inside your hut. “(N-NAME)?! Are—are you here? We—we need to talk!” He called out, his voice breaking from breathing so heavily. “(NAME). . .?”

……

“Shit, shit! (NAME), where—where did you go now. . .” fretted Tighnari, his mind racing with every outcome possible. His eyes caught onto a wax-sealed envelope that sat neatly on your dresser. He picked it up and felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over him as he stared at it. “It’s addressed to me. . .”

“ Dear Master Tighnari,

As much as it hurts to me say this, but by the time you’ve finished reading this, I’ll have passed away. I don’t quite know what to put in this letter. . . Even as I’m writing this, my mind is blanking. I feel like there’s so much I have to say, but unfortunately, I don’t have much time before this disease takes its final toll on me.

I’m sure Collei’s told you by now of my hanahaki. I don’t blame her; the poor girl looked like she would pass out when she found me puking flowers. I know what you’re thinking, “(NAME), you lummox. So you’d rather just sit and watch yourself die than confess?” Well, Tighnari, would YOU confess to someone who’s admitted you’re nothing but a thorn in their side? If you haven’t figured it out by now, it’s you who I’m in love with. Have been for a while now.

I must apologize for plaguing both you and everyone in Gandhara Ville. That was never my intention; I only wanted to repay the kindness everyone gave me, no matter if it cost my life or not. But, unfortunately, as you said, I ended up doing the entire opposite. And for that, I sincerely apologize. I wish I could take it all back.

I hope you know that despite everything, I don’t harbor any negative feelings toward you. And maybe, in a different reality, things wouldn’t have turned out like this.

Did you know that I’ve admired you from day one? And I’ll continue to do so in the afterlife. You’re genuinely incredible in my eyes; you’re diligent and passionate, everything I wished I was. You’re incredibly dedicated to the forest, which is admirable. And I supposed that’s why I fell so incredibly hard for you. Maybe you knew I loved you; maybe you didn’t. It’s all meaningless now that I lay on my deathbed made out of my own flowers. It’s strangely comforting, even though I’ve lived far from a fulfilling life.

I honestly didn’t think my feelings had gotten this bad; I thought I had successfully pushed them away for the greater good. But, with how fast the hanahaki materialized, it seems I unestimated myself. That proves just how much I truly adored you. Never doubt your capabilities, alright? You’re truly unique, Tighnari.

This is where we part, my dear fox friend. My strength is running out, and so is the ink. Once more, I’m truly sorry for all the pain I’ve caused; I hope you can find it in you to forgive me. Please take care of Collei for me? Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t make it; Celestia knows I tried to push through for her.

I love you, Tighnari. My love will continue to bloom for you in the form of lotus flowers. So, whenever you see one, I hope you think of me and how much I admired you. (:

Yours Truly, (NAME). ”

The words blurred together as tears muddied Tighnari’s vision. Every written word cut deeper and deeper, but he forced himself to read it all. At first, he thought it was staged or a joke of some sort, and a part of him wished it was, but he could recognize your handwriting from a mile away. “No, no. . . this cannot be happening. . . They can’t be—” he thought to himself as he pocketed the note. He seethed, “FUCK! Where could they have gone?!” He pulled his hair stressfully as he wracked his brain for answers.

“My love will continue to bloom for you in the form of lotus flowers.”

His eyes snapped open when it clicked—the river not too far from here was known for the lotuses that bloomed in it. You couldn’t have gone far either, not in your condition, at least.

Tighnari hurriedly sped out of the ville, ignoring everyone’s worried stares. “Please don’t be too late please be alive.” He prayed silently. He halted and surveyed the familiar spot, spotting a figure lying near the river’s shallows. he uttered, “(N—NAME). . .?”

Stumbling over, his pretty eyes drowned in tears the second he laid eyes on you. You were sprawled out, bloodied flowers sticking to your lifeless body. Blood smeared on your lips and fingers, and thank the Archons, your eyes were closed, or else Tighnari would’ve gone into cardiac arrest from crying so hard.

He collapsed at your side, cradling your face in his hands; the warmth of his palms contrasted with the chill of your skin. Shaking his head in denial, he thumbed at your face hoping to find some kind of reaction that proved you were still alive. “No, no, NO! Come on, (NAME)! W—wake up! You c-can’t. . .” He hiccuped.

Tighnari gathered you in his arms, concealing his face in the crook of your neck to hide how hard he sobbed. “I. . . I’m so sorry, flower. T—This is all my fault. . . I-If I would’ve just told you how I felt instead of being a moron, then none of this would’ve happened—you wouldn’t have. . .” A sob strangled his throat and cut off his words.

“I—I thought I was protecting you from yourself. . . B-but I somehow did the exact opposite. I was the cause of your pain, and because of how shitty I treated you, you feared telling me how you felt. I. . . I’m so sorry, (NAME). Y-you didn’t deserve to go through so much pain alone.”

“Master, I heard—o-oh my god.”

Collei’s eyes rounded in horror, her figure starting to tremble as the situation settled in her head. “(N-NAME). . .” she croaked and dropped next to Tighnari, her hands shakily finding yours. Like her mentor, she was quick to shake her head in denial. “N—no. . . They can’t be. . . How—how did it—” bewailed the girl as her hand squeezed your fragile one. She turned to Tighnari, who looked to be on the verge of passing out from crying so hard. “M—Master, they’re. . . they’re not, r-right? They can’t be. . .”

The ranger shakily pulled out the letter and handed it to her, watching as the girl sobbed harder at its contents. “T—They found comfort in their death because of how much pain they were in. . .” He murmured weakly. As he pressed a kiss to your hair, he noticed that your fingers grasped something.

Tighnari gingerly grabbed your hand and unraveled your fingers from what you held. A singular clean lotus. He smiled, weak and faint, plucking the lotus from your grip and tucking it in his hair—a memento of your love for him and his love for you.

“My love for you will continue to blossom in life and in death. . . N—no matter where you are, you will be the first and last my heart is occupied with. There’s no room left for anyone else, flower. . . There never was in the beginning.

“I will look at each and every flower and think of how selfless and caring you were. Your love and dedication will continue to burn bright in Gandhara Ville. I will make sure of it. . .”

#|✿| — 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍’𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 #✿| — 𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐇𝐒 #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshinxreader #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #tighnari x y/n #tighnari oneshot #angst #genshin angst #tighnari angst #hanahaki disease

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vlrspace · 1 year

Text

cw: this is just a small fluff with a slightly bold! 3rd year deku. enjoyy

wc: 4.1K

an: first published fanfic ever, so i’m aware it isn’t the best but we’ll improve.

aizawa’s voice fills the room, most focusing and actually taking down notes, while some are trying to fight to stay awake and doodle. not that you’re dropping into the latter, but lately more and more rabbit like doodles fill up the margins of your book.

it isn’t necessarily that you aren’t listening to what aizawa is actually saying and you don’t care about your grades, but lately funny emotions are erupting in your heart and you’ve been feeling a little bit off.

you are well aware what these feelings are, what more like who causes them and how they were born. however the timing was quite bad, you would’ve been happier if these feelings would’ve come later. in the future when it’s easier to get over your probably unrequited feelings for a boy everyone adores. not that it’s a problem, of course everyone is adoring him, he’s such a sweetheart with a kind nature and his aspiration to become a hero is a huge influence to those around him.

honestly, you couldn’t blame midoriya izuku for being blessed with nothing but good traits. he’s always lending a hand if you’re in need of help with school or training. he’s asking how are you doing at every chance he sees you, gives you an ear if you want to talk, and often he circles his muscly arms around you to pull you closer to him if you need some comfort.

you often wondered if he treated everyone else like this or if it’s just you? although it’s better if that question remains unanswered for your poor little heart. you are already overthinking, your brain is like an ocean, overflowing with thoughts till you zone out completely. barely realising how mina came to stand beside your table asking you if you wanted to grab lunch.

“you have been in your own world lately” tsu says with slight concern laced in her tone. you shoot her an apologetic smile.

“i apologise, sometimes i get carried away and just zone out completely. i am not intentionally ignoring you girls” you beam, hoping your answer is enough for them to not continue on pressing the topic.

maybe though, your answer had been half a lie. you are somewhat ignorant when you’re day dreaming and zone out completely, hoping that the green haired hero-in-training wouldn’t talk to you unless necessary.

mainly, since your second and now your third year at u.a. started, izuku had been through a growing spurt. he’s no longer smaller than most boys in your class but he’s 6 foot something and his hair is tamed with a little undercut. he’s more buff, broader and easily towers over most, even if he doesn’t mean it to come off intimidating. to say he’s gotten hotter is an understatement.

of course, his personality hasn’t changed drastically but he grew a bit more confident in himself and bold as well. he’s still stumbling over his words at times and gets flustered with blood red cheeks but it’s getting rare.

“ohh, what’s on your mind (y/n)? do you want to talk about it?” ochaco offered, her cheeks flushed with slight redness as always as her eyes gazed on you warmly.

“it’s just school and training i guess” you answer softly as you all make your way down to the lunch hall. “thank you though” you give the girls a side hug as you all walk towards the lunch hall.

when you got there, the girls separated to walk towards their own little groups and you cluelessly stood there, not knowing who to join, you’re friends with everyone. without thinking you grabbed mina’s arm asking if you could join her and the bakusquad. she took a hold of your hand while grinning at you, she lead you towards their table.

“(y/n), it’s so good you’re joining us, we dared kaminari to eat bakugous usual lunch” kirishima laughs with sero, wiping their tears. at least jiro covers her mouth hiding her laugh.

so this is how lunch went, bakugou smirking victoriously, kaminari chucking water after water to sooth the spice left in his throat and the others chuckling and eating. plus the nagging thought at the back of your head that a pair of eyes are watching you from afar, but every time you looked around you didn’t see anyone. bakugou must’ve noticed this sitting next to you as he gave you a look.

“are you paranoid or something, shorty?” he smirks as he somewhat softly pushes your shoulder.

“no, i’m not! just my quirk is acting up.” you mumble looking down at your finished lunch. “anyways should we head back to class? the bell rings in a few minutes” you suggest as you start to stand up from your table and thankfully the others follow.

the second you get to class and take a seat, you let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, and just as you were about to relax, izuku walks in with shoto, talking about something and his eyes find yours, giving you a wide smile.

oh no, now he’s walking towards you.

“are you alright (y/n)? ochaco and tsu told me during lunch that you’ve been kind of out of it because of school and training. is there anything i can help you with?” izuku stops next to your desk and gives you a wide smile, eyes bright green. why is he looking so intently in your eyes?

you swiftly collect yourself turning to look ahead of you thinking what to say without messing your words up before finally answering his question quietly.

“i’m alright, thank you” you turn to look up at him and he’s smile is smaller, eyes filled with concern. “are you okay?” you ask finally giving him a smile, but his answer goes unheard when aizawa walks in the room and izuku hurries to his seat, muttering a small sorry towards you.

for the second time today, you let out a sigh from deep within you.

nothing interesting happens after that, apart from you bolting from your seat towards the door and quickly make your way towards your dorm room. you catch up with studying and went on a small jog around campus. after a lovely shower, feeling so much better without all the sweat underneath your clothes, an empty stomach is the only thing stopping you from going to bed.

kaminari, sero, kirishima and mina are all shouting, seemingly in a harmless argument as you walk in the common room. you turn towards shoto who was leaning against the wall and ask him what is all the commotion about. he gives you a gentle smile while explaining how the four is arguing about what movie to watch, all four having different ideas in mind. you let out a small laugh, and you start engaging in a small conversation with the bi coloured boy.

the feeling of being watched is returning and you looking around, subtly not wanting to catch shoto’s attention. again, nothing seems to be out of place. maybe you are being paranoid just like bakugou said.

your conversation with shoto is cut off when you feel a presence behind you, causing shoto to look up from you and you turn around. izuku is standing behind you, he’s smiling like always but he’s eyes look a tad different, darker. but it’s probably from the lighting, he’s looking down at you and it’s his hair, shadowing his eyes. yes that’s it.

“the others decided on the movie we are watching. lets go and sit down.” izuku’s hand is already on your lower back, gently pushing me towards the sofas.

“oh okay, what movie are we watching?” you ask, turning slightly towards him, hoping he doesn’t see the slight blush on your face.

izuku answers your question, as you both sit at the edge(!!) of the sofa, ochaco turns to you excitedly, explaining how one of the actors is her celebrity crush. the lights get turned off while you’re focused on your conversation with her, mainly because izuku is sitting next to you, your heart is going wild, you hope he doesn’t hear it, the butterflies in your stomach are doing flips and you feel sick just from the sitting next to him. you got it bad for the green haired male, but you’re only just realising how bad it is.

izuku on the other hand, he isn’t any better than you. he got his eyes on you for a while now, and is absolutely smitten by you. he thinks you’re absolutely stunning, everything about you is pretty (according to him, pretty doesn’t even come close to how good you look - that’s what he said to the dekusquad), but he’s even more attracted to how amazing you are on the inside. you’re smart, considerate and kind to everyone, you’re helpful, a good listener and so on.

he loves being around you, being with you, having you around, he yearns for you, he wants to touch you, hold your hand, kiss your lips, stroke your cheeks, holding you in his arms. he wants to take you out on dates, study with you, train with you, introduce you to his mum, just spending more time with you would make him the happiest man alive.

izuku is more than aware of the fact that everyone in the class knows about his crush on you. he’s thankful that no one said a word about it to you though. what makes him a little bit worried is that no one seems to know if you got a crush on anyone, you always seem so indifferent when the topic is brought up. he would totally understand it as well if you tell him that you don’t feel the same.

at the same time, izuku knows that if he wants to get answers and even if there is a slight chance of you liking him, he needs to step up his game. so after a few pep talk with his renewed friend kacchan and girl best friend ochaco, he became a bit bolder when it came to interacting with you. hugging you, lingering touches here and there and after seeing how you reacted the first few times, he continued on.

because honestly, you look so cute with the slight blush on you cheeks and the way you shyly smile and look away from him. so when the movie is halfway in, he puts his arm on the couch behind your head, causing your side pressing against his toned torso. izuku can feel you stiffen slightly but after a while you ease up and lean back to him, not fully but it made izuku’s heart beat faster and his cheeks are slight flushed. ochaco gives him a quick look with a tiny smirk before turning back towards the tv.

izuku hopes he hasn’t ruined anything between you two with this, but he would’ve talked to you tonight either way about how he’s feeling. he also didn’t want kacchan to tell you about his feelings because the ash blonde boy was too tired of hearing about the lovesick thoughts his friend (we all know they are!!) bombarded him with. he also knows that you’ve been somewhat avoiding him for some reason, he’s not an idiot and his heart can’t take it anymore.

so tonight, izuku will confess to you and he hopes you’ll accept him.

as the movie is coming to an ending, the lights come back on, izuku’s arm is still behind you with his hand now slightly next to your face. you’re heart is beating even faster, knowing that this display will be seen by all of your classmates. on your right, izuku doesn’t seem all that fazed, talking with ochaco, tsu and iida about the movie. for some reason that makes you blush so very dark, you can practically feel your face growing hot at how he’s not afraid of others seeing you two like this.

a hand is slightly brushing against the edge of your shoulder and you turn around to face izuku, who’s looking down at you, beaming.

“what did you think of the movie?” he’s gently stroking your shoulder now, his eyes only focusing on you.

“ah uh, the movie was, uh very good. i enjoyed it a lot” you stutter ripping your eyes away from him but before you could say anything else, you hear a few snicker from next to you causing you to look around the room. everyone is looking at you excitedly, some are smirking and mina is holding her phone towards you and izuku.

oh no, she must’ve taken a picture.

you turn swiftly to look at izuku, who’s looking at you, his face calm, eyes warm and somewhat lidded, lips curled in a small smirk. your eyes are wide in contrast and your lips form a small ‘oh’. your face definitely looks like a tomato, you’re sure of that, you let a nervous laugh.

“i’m going to go to the bathroom” you excuse yourself as you stand up, already missing the warmth of izuku’s hand on your shoulder. you hear someone call after you, but you are almost running towards the elevators at this point to get to the safety of your room.

the second you walk through your door, you rush in and flop on your bed and grab your pillow, shouting into it. now for sure everyone know about your feelings for izuku and you’re even more confused about what he’s feeling towards you at this point, but at the same it felt so good being so close to him. is there actually a chance that he feels the same as you?

while you’re planning on hiding away in your room forever, a knock is heard on your door.

“it’s open” you mumble from under your pillow, not even bothering to see who came in.

“hey girl, did i take it too far?” you feel the bed dip as mina lays down beside you. you take the pillow from your face and throw it at hers, she catches it and laughs.

you turn towards her, eyes a bit glossy but you give her a smile. “no you didn’t, just…you see, uh” you trail off not knowing how to tell her your feelings for izuku. after a few minutes she starts talking.

“i know that someone is going to confess to you tonight” you sit up as soon as you hear that and look at her with the widest eyes ever “but you never told us who you have a crush on or if you even like someone, you know.” she sits up too and starts stroking your arm, it doesn’t feel as good as izuku’s. “i don’t want to put you and the other person into an uncomfortable situation so please tell me (y/n)”

this took you off guard, you never expected anything like this. someone in your class likes you, and you hope it’s izuku. you’re kind of hesitating to tell mina about your crush though. it’s not that you don’t trust her, you simply have a hard time opening up about it.

“i like izuku.” your voice is so small, she can barely hear it. mina can barely contain her smile though, she needs to go through this without letting you know anything. the others are probably having a harder time with izuku anyways, who’s downstairs having a crisis.

izuku freaked out the second you left, knowing he messed everything up and took it too far. everyone was trying to calm him down while he held his face in his hands. izuku loved having you so close to him in the past hour, you felt so warm and soft, but he never meant to make you feel like you had to run away from him because you didn’t like being around him

suddenly kirishima swings his arm around him as he plops down on the armrest. his phone is open in the messages app and shows izuku the last message. izuku reads it, his thought going wild and so is his heart, he cannot believe it.

meanwhile, mina puts her phone away, while you put yourself together a bit. you often turn to look at her and she gives you a reassuring smile. she knows you must be a little bit confused and anxious what the rest of the night will bring you, but she also knows that by the end of the night, you’ll be the happiest human alive, that alone made her happy.

“okay, i think i’m ready to go back” you stand in front of your door, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “i hope the others won’t be mad at me for storming out”

“no need to worry about that babes” mina hugs you then you two leave your room, her arm linked with yours.

when you reach the common room, everyone is talking and some of the boys are playing games, like nothing happened. kirishima came up to you two, taking you both under his arms.

“you two will miss out on the competition. we are trying to find who’s the king of mario kart-“ “it’s me you idiots” “of course you are bakubro! i feel like he’ll blow up the console if he doesn’t win” kirishima whispers the last bit to you two, causing you all to snicker.

you feel like you’re being watched for the third time today and suddenly you’re reminded about what happened not just long ago. you look around to see if izuku is still around or maybe you completely ruined everything and now he doesn’t want to talk to you or be around you. before worry could fill you up, your eyes meet with his emerald ones from the same couch you two were sitting on. you shot him a small smile and he’s eagerly sending you one back and then you turn your attention back towards mina and kirishima, trying to focus on them.

ten minutes later, you are somewhat engrossed in the conversation about music with jiro, you feel him before he makes himself known, jiro excuses herself quickly as you turn to look up to izuku from your seat. he gives you a warm smile, but his eyes are nervous, voice a bit shaky when he asks you “let’s go and talk somewhere private, yeah?”

you only nod, following him outside and into the back garden of the dorms and you two take a seat on the bench, facing the building. there is a slight tension, and it’s a bit uncomfortable for you both but then izuku starts speaking.

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable during the movie or any other time” he starts of quietly “i didn’t mean any harm, ever, i just wanted to be closer to you. you always make me feel so warm and happy like i’m always on cloud nine (9). you’re so amazing, smart, kind and pretty too! “you turn towards him, indecisive if it’s a good thing that he says all of this or a bad thing and he’s about to reject you. either way your heart is in your throat “oh my, you’re so pretty, i always dream about you. i ache for you (y/n), every time we are together i feel whole. i admire you for your patience towards others, your drive to be a hero and you always know how to make someone smile. i will make you smile every day too, if you take me (y/n), i adore you so much, i feel like i’ll burst” he ends his confession and turns your way, eyes teary and cheeks red, you haven’t seen izuku like this in a while.

the person mina said will confess to you tonight is izuku, you have a fat crush on izuku! now that’s mind blowing.

your thoughts are everywhere and nowhere, and you know the longer you stay silent and the worst izuku will expect to happen. you gather your thoughts as fast as you can and turn fully towards him.

“i adore you so much too izuku” your words are barely audible, he can barely make it out what you’re saying, but when he does, his eyes go wide and you let a giggle out. that seems to bring him back, giving you a small smile. “we could burst together” it comes out more of a question, you’re returning his smile.

at that his smile gets wider and circles his arms around you, pulling you extremely close. he tucks his face into your neck and you swear you feel tears running down from his face. when he pulls away, one of his hands find the side of your face, and presses his lips on yours. your arms round his neck and fingers disappear in his curls, his hands make their way down to your hips. his tongue swipes across your lower lip, asking for permission and you gladly gave it to him.

izuku didn’t intend on leaving your lips till you both are breathless but you leave first, making him chase after your lips and you let out a soft giggle, which makes him smile. you pull away a bit to look up at him, still not believing that he feels the same way as you. you take in his face, eyes lidded and dark, face slightly red and lips plump, slightly wet. he leans in a gives you a long peck before pulling away, moving so you sit on his lap. you play with the curls on top his head, seemingly deep in thought and izuku decides to pop the question.

“i would really like it if you became mine” he whispers, one his hand finds its way to you cheek again, caressing it. the smile on your face becomes bigger, looking at those emerald eyes that swirl in nothing but pure love and adoration.

“i would love that” you give your answer, which he was probably waiting for, quite long time. the second the words leave your lips, he stands up and twirls you two around, making both of you laugh. he sets you down on the ground and kisses you again, this time with more passion. “let’s go back inside, mina’s and ochaco’s eyes will pop if they stare out on the windows any longer” you snicker.

izuku takes a hold of your hand and you walk next to each other, both of you still trying to process everything that just happened. when you woke up, you did not expect tonight turn out this way. you look down at your fingers being laced with his, and trying not blush at the fact how his fingers were twice the size of yours.

when you two arrive back at the common room, everyone is pretending like they are doing something but when they see your hands, the girls crowd around you, all of them giving you a hug, while the boys shake izuku’s hand. the girls bring you aside, asking you to tell them everything because they did see bits, but didn’t hear anything. you gently squeeze izuku’s hand, silently letting him know that you’re leaving and he squeezed your hand back with a smile.

you’re in the middle of the story, the girls surrounded around you as you all took up a whole couch the farthest one away from the boys, when you feel like you’re being watched again and this time you found who the pair of eyes belong to.

izuku is sitting on the couch, all of the boys around him as well and they are all talking to him but his eyes never leave you. izuku couldn’t even focus on anyone else right now even if he tried, he feels like he’s high on ecstasy. the girl he’s been pining for a year now, wants him as much as he wants her. he’s yearning for real this time, and he know he won’t be able to get enough of her soft lips, gosh he’s thinking about kissing them right now. when he had you in his lap, so close to him, he wishes he could hold you just as close again. the butterflies in his stomach must be rioting because when you look back at him, he knows you feel just like how he does.

and you never felt so safe and loved under a gaze like that before.

(a few days later, izuku’s background on his phone changed from all might to the picture mina took of the two of you)

#deku x reader #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya x you #deku x you #izuku x you #midoriya izuku x you

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leezlelatch · 7 months

Text

Terzo x GN! Reader

A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!

~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week.

You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document.

Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them.

“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration.

The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold.

He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little.

Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye.

You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored.

Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated.

You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story.

“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner.

Fuck it.

You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat.

“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs.

“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Penny frowns.

“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?”

“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.”

The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.”

He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night.

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die.

You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?

I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off.

Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection.

His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation.

The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare.

“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant.

And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure.

“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality.

“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now.

“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.”

He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”

“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face.

He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.”

“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom.

“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.”

“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair.

“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one.

“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face.

“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out.

“It is more of a hobby than a profession.”

“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.

“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly.

“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring.

His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then.

“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in.

“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks.

“Are you preaching?”

“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs.

“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk.

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”

“Interesting,” you say slowly.

“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.”

“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea.

Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”

“Are you Italian?” You question.

“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.

“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?”

“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles.

You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add.

“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin.

“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation.

“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye.

“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”

The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful.

“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”

“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.”

“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”

“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?”

“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly.

You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile.

“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies.

“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.”

“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.”

“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.”

“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be.

Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door.

“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true.

“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner.

Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”

“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at.

He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”

“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.”

“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth.

“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly.

“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?”

You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you.

“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.”

“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table.

“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair.

“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?”

“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?”

“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little.

“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.”

“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?”

“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff.

“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”

“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair.

“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?”

“Victor,” you answer immediately.

Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.”

“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”

“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature.

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke.

Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”

“Go over well with whom?”

“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”

“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks.

“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features.

“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes.

“Do you like me?” He asks softly.

The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra.

“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.

“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.

“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”

“Frank Sinatra?”

“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.”

You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?”

“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles.

“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.

“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his.

Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go.

Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.”

“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”

“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up.

“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs.

Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry.

“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”

His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?”

Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.”

Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”

“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?”

His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful.

“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly.

“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.”

“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.

Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.”

“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own.

“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush.

“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”

“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised.

Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”

“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.”

“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest.

“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks.

“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone.

The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.”

Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world.

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”

Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.”

“I already told you that-”

“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.”

“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Come and find out.”

Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone.

“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises.

“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily.

“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully.

Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don��t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy.

When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter.

“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?”

Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #terzo emeritus #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #reader fanfiction #terzo headcanons #the band ghost headcanons

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choke-me-joey · 1 year

Text

Ch1/Ch2

Summary: As Joe's long-term girlfriend, you reflect on your relationship over the last 4 years.

Content warning: 18+ so minors are not welcome, real person fiction (don't like, don't read, don't bitch), smut, fluff, angst, probably inaccurate timelines and processes but does anyone really care?, alcohol use, smoking...if I've missed anything please let me know!!

Author's note: when I was deep in my Dan and Phil phase I wrote this, published it on AO3 and then took it down so before anyone says "Hey this looks familiar" don't panic, I'm not stealing anyone's work and I can prove it lmao. Thanks to @harrys-four-nipples for reading this first chapter and telling me it wasn't as shit as I thought. Love you girl 🥰 feedback is always appreciated, let me know if you'd like me to continue this!

Paris

December 2022

After the craziest year anyone could ever imagine, exploring and staying in a variety of hotels across the globe, the last convention of 2022 was finally happening. You had been by your boyfriend's side the entire time; your job as a freelance photographer/social media specialist pretty much allowed you to travel anywhere and everywhere and luckily Joe's team were on board with you providing his official con photos and managing his social media. But as ideal as that sounds, it hadnt been easy.

It had been one of the best experiences of your life, watching the man that you love so, so much bring so much joy to the millions of people around the world who adored him. Despite being at every convention, watching all the fan interactions and all the panels, you were never bored. It hadn't all been perfect though, in fact it had been extremely trying at times, what with Joe being so damn exhausted there was barely any 'you' time, or fans getting a little bit too crazy at the meet and greets, but you wouldn't have traded it for the world.

You'd think that being cooped up on planes, in hotel rooms and travelling constatnly for months on end, spending almost every waking minute of the day together would have seriously damaged your relationship, but in all honesty, it brought you and Joe closer together. Sure, there have been times where you’ve wanted to smother each other with the shitty hotel pillows, but what couple doesn't argue? Without the option of slamming the bedroom door shut and sulking, you've learnt to just talk it out, and move on, and things have just gotten better and better. You had just celebrated our 4 year anniversary in Tokyo last month, and Jamie was constantly teasing you, telling you if you didn't get a ring this Christmas, you two could just run away together instead.

Of course, Joe had gotten super salty at the joke, seemingly never being able to escape the never ending question from his family and friends of when he was finally going to pop the question. He didn't need it from Jamie now too. He was going to do it, he just didn't want to rush it after all.

As it was the last con of 2022, Joe's team had given you some time off to just enjoy the convention, acknowledging that you had worked through your anniversary in Japan. This meant you could actually walk around the con and hang out with some of your friends, and enjoy the panels, which you were grateful for. You had some time to chat with Joe's dad too, which was always a good time, you got on so well with him and it was nice to see just how proud he was of his son.

Although you had been together for 4 years now, you and Joe weren't quite comfortable with going public with your relationship just yet. Joe had sky rocketed to fame overnight and his fanbase could be a little...intense. They went into a frenzy if he was spotted within 5 feet of another girl, and said girls were always stalked and harassed online and Joe didn't want that for you. You'd been pretty good at hiding it so far, most fans just thinking you were part of Joe's management team always there to keep him on schedule. It was a bit shit not being able to hold his hand or give him a hug in public but when the time was right, you both agreed you would go public.

You had headed back to the hotel a little before the con was over, Joe would no doubt get waylaid by fans outside the convention centre and you'd said you would order you both some food and run a bath for him so he could just relax now he was done for the Christmas period. New Orleans was a little after New Years so you'd have time to explore Paris, get home for Christmas and see in the New Year together.

Joe practically collapses through the door and you run to hug him, you were both desperate to touch each other after a long day of pretending to be work friends.

"Hi," you mumbled into his neck. "Last one for this year done, babe. I'm so proud of you."

He doesn't respond, he's holding onto you as if someone was threatening to take you away from him. "Babe, what's wrong?"

"I love you so much," he whispers. "Thank you."

"Joe, you don't need to thank-"

"Yeah, I do. I just thought that you've been there from the very start, and you've worked so hard, putting up with all my shit and you've been so supportive. I couldn't have done it without you." He sniffs, looking a little emotional. "Tonight was the first night I've actually been able to see you and not your camera, and knowing you were actually there, right in front of me, like, everything from the past 4 years went through my head and I could see you smiling at me, and the fans and I just..." he trails off, at a loss for words. You kiss his cheek, your own eyes welling up.

"You're such a soppy git, Joe." You tease him, but he knows you're joking.

"Shut up, you're just as soppy. " He laughs, poking you in the side gently. You poke my tongue out at him and he crosses his eyes in response, before my phone buzzes to let me know our food has been delivered to the hotel lobby. You break away from Joe, kissing his cheek and heading downstairs to grab your food.

You both scoff down your food, both of you having been way too busy to really eat a proper meal today, and then Joe gets into the bath. He tries to persuade you to join him, but honestly the bathtub here was smaller than the one at home, and even that could be a struggle to fit the both of you in, so you decline, changing into your pyjamas and watching some random show on TV and scrolling through your phone, replying to messages in the Quinn family group chat and your own family group chat.

You can't help but bite your lip in appreciation as Joe comes back into the bedroom, a towel around his waist and his curls dripping. He makes his way over to his suitcase in search for a pair of clean boxers. Your eyes scan over his bare torso, his broad shoulders, sharp collarbones, toned arms and his perfect stomach with a dusting of dark hair disappearing into the towel. He feels your eyes on him, standing up and turning around.

"What?" He smirks, stifling a yawn. You return his smirk, stretching a little.

"Nothing, just admiring my boyfriend. That alright with you?"

"Depends, can I ogle you like a pervert the next time you come out in just a towel?" Joe jokes, quickly pulling his boxers on under his towel, pulling it off and hanging it back up in the bathroom, before crawling on the bed and collapsing on his stomach, sighing heavily.

"You do anyway, I'm just more subtle about my staring, Quinn."

"You're just as pervy as me, Y/N, dont even try and pretend you're not. " he laughs, turning onto his side, pulling you down and wrapping his arm around you. You cuddle into him, burying your face in his neck.

"Difference is, Joseph, the whole Internet can see what a flirt you are, nobody has dirt on me."

"M'too tired for your smart arse right now."

"You like my smart arse." You grin into his skin, and he chuckles, the sound rumbling in his throat.

"I like your smart everything," he mumbles, kissing the top of your head. You sigh in response, enjoying the feeling of him cuddled up to you. "M'so tired. And my back is killing me."

"Did you twinge it again?"

"Mm. Hurts."

You untangle myself from him and roll off the bed, rummaging through your suitcases until you find the baby oil you always use to keep your skin moisturised after a shower. You shake it up as you walk towards the bed. "On your stomach, babe."

"That is the most terrifying thing you could say to me whilst holding baby oil." He eyes the bottle in your hands suspiciously, but does what you've said anyway.

"I believe that would actually be 'face down, ass up and just relax'." You smirk, climbing back on the bed, straddling his legs. He groans dramatically, making you roll your eyes and laugh. "You're such a drama queen, babe."

"Making a living off of it, aren't I?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up Mr Man of the Year." You quip, opening the bottle and pour some of the oil into your hands, rubbing them together to warm it up before pressing your palms against his shoulder blades. You apply just the amount of pressure that you know he likes, rubbing his flawless skin. "That okay?"

He responds by letting out a quiet moan of approval.

"How did I get so lucky?" Joe groans into the pillow as you continue to rub his shoulders and upper back, trying your best to work out the knots in his muscles. You smile, placing a kiss to the back of his neck that makes him shiver slightly.

"You elbowed me in the tits on the Underground and made me spill my coffee all over myself." You chuckle, adjusting your position on his legs so you could massage further down.

"The one time in my whole life that me being a clumsy twat has actually worked out in my favour." Joe's voice is muffled by the pillow, but you can tell he's smiling. He grunts in pleasure as you knead his lower back gently.

"Meh, you're just lucky I thought you were hot." You teased, gently poking him in the sides. He chuckles softly. "And you were, and still can be, so socially awkward, it was endearing."

"Mm, love you." He mumbles, and you know he's slowly falling asleep by the way his body is relaxing beneath you.

"Love you too, babe." You whisper back, moving off of his back and into bed next to him, pulling the covers over both of you. Ypu push his curls back from over his face. "Always have, always will." You kiss his temple and turn off the bedside lamp, letting him sleep off the post convention exhaustion whilst you take advantage of the good selection of TV channels the hotel has.

A few hours later, you're still awake and on your phone, scrolling through Instagram, the TV long turned off. You're laid on your side facing away from your currently snoring boyfriend. Joe grumbles in his sleep and rolls over, moulding his body around yours and spooning you. You feel something poking you in your bum and smirk to yourself, wiggling your butt back against him.

"Hmm, you still awake?" Joe whispers, his voice rough with sleep and exhaustion, one of his hands running over your thigh.

"Mm, I didn't wake you up, did I?" You reply, shivering in delight as his lips graze your neck. You roll over to face him, and he moves your leg on top of his, moving your bodies closer together as he kisses you hard, his hands wandering around to your ass and squeezing it.

Oh.

You see where this is going.

"Are you sure you're up to this, Joe? You're exhausted." You say quietly, trying your best to control your breathing after you break away. Thanks to your busy schedules, it been at least two weeks since you'd last had sex. You snuck in whatever you could, but mostly it was just heavy make out sessions or occasionally a hand and/or blow job to help with Joe's anxiety levels. You were practically soaked already and he'd barely touched you.

"Never too tired for you," he mumbles, pecking your lips softly, and slowly lifting up the hem of your (his) shirt. "Off?"

You nod, and you both work together to rid you of the oversized shirt. "C'mere," he grunts, rolling you on top of him, his hands on your hips as he looks up at me.

"Lazy," you tease, your skin feeling like it's on fire as he runs his hands up your sides.

"Beautiful." He responds, giving you that little smile that makes your heart melt every time. It's a smile that only you get to see, and it's during your intimate moments like this that he smiles like that, and you fall in love with him all over again. You hum and lean down, kissing him passionately, your tongues dancing around each other. His hands return to your hips, pushing them down against his crotch as he lifts his hips up, and the friction and heat makes you both moan. You nibble on his bottom lip, which you know drives him crazy, before moving to kiss his jawline and neck, a somewhat external G-spot for him. "Fuck..."

"Well, if you want, I mean, I was just gonna suck you off and then take care of myself," you grin against his skin, and he responds by slapping your ass lightly. In return, you bite gently on his collarbone, and he grunts, the noise going straight in between your legs. "What do you want, Joe? Tell me."

"Wanna fuck you," he growls, turning his head and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently. "Wanna be inside you so bad, baby, please."

You whimper, nodding. Foreplay would have to wait for tonight.

You sit up and awkwardly peel off your underwear, throwing it somewhere in the room, deciding you'd find it in the morning. You gently palm Joe's cock through his boxers, making him grunt and moan your name loudly, before pulling them down his legs, and he kicks them off his feet. You take his cock into your hand, squeezing gently and stroking him a few times. "Please, baby, m'not gonna last long..." You'll let him off for that, it really has been forever since you last fucked. You reach across to the bedside table, grabbing a condom from your makeup bag (damn your birth control prescription running out before you'd realised) and tearing it open. He holds his hands out to put it on himself, but you slap them away, rolling it on him as slowly as possible, making him grit his teeth, grunt and buck his hips slightly.

Deciding to be a bit more of a tease, you hover above him for a few seconds, grinding down ever so slightly. He grips your hips so tight there will definitely be bruises in the morning, and he bites his lip, whimpering and cursing. You decide to let him off, because you want this just as much as he does, and you place the head of his cock at your dripping pussy, slowly sinking down onto him. He throws his head back and moans, a little too loudly, as do you. "God, I missed this...missed you."

"I missed you too," you sigh, placing your hands on his chest, giving yourself a bit of leverage before you start to move your hips. "Fuck, Joe, you feel so fucking good..." as much as you want this to last, you know it won't. You can already feel your orgasm growing as you grind down against him. He bucks his hips up, his cock brushing my g-spot. "Oh my god, Joe!"

"Fuck," he growls, his breathing heavy. "Faster, baby, please, I-" he cuts himself off with a moan as you obey. "Shit, fuck!"

"You're so loud," you giggle breathlessly, gasping as he places his thumb on your clit and rubs in time with your thrusts. "We're gonna get noise complai-AH, FUCK, JOE!"

"I'm the loud one, am I?" Fucking asshole.

"Shut up," You gasp, as he sits up, wrapping your legs around him and attaches his lips to your collarbone, sucking and biting as you move together. You can tell he's getting close from the way his breath is coming out in pants, and his moans are getting more desperate sounding. He rests his forehead against your shoulder, and you run your fingers through his curly hair, and he looks up at you.

"Kiss me," he whispers, and of course, you do. "M'getting close."

"Me too," you whisper back, and he reaches between you to stroke your clit. "Joe, I-"

"I know."

The room is filled with your moans, and heavy breathing as you both get closer and closer to the edge. Joe moves his hand and lies you down on the bed, so he's on top. He winks at you, and smirks as he puts your legs around his waist, and his hands either side of your head. He ducks down and kisses you softly before moving his hips, fucking you hard and fast, the way he knows you like it.

"Oh,my god Joe, I'm gonna cum!" You moan, digging your nails into his back.

"Do it, wanna feel you cum for me," he groans, and all it takes is him angling his hips just right, and you're coming, moaning his name probably way too loud, your whole body shaking. Joe curses and stills, pushing his cock inside you one last time as he cums into the condom, hard, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he whispers your name, telling you he loves you. You say it back, stroking his neck gently as he collapses on top of you, his head on your chest. "You're amazing."

"I think you'll find that's you, babe." You say breathlessly, grinning like a fool.

"I am pretty fucking good in bed, aren't I?" Joe grins, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"You always know what to say...so romantic," you roll your eyes, poking him in the tummy.

"Mhmm, you're very lucky. I mean, I even make sure you cum every single time we fuck, if that's not true love, I don't know what is." He pulls off the condom, tying it and throwing it into the bedside bin.

"Be still my beating heart!" You laugh and kiss the top of his head, rolling out from underneath him. He pouts, reaching out for you with grabby hands. "Joe, as much as I'd love to cuddle right now, I seriously need to shower after that. Wanna come with?"

"Depends, you might have to roll me, you've worn me out." he yawns, sitting up on the bed. "Besides, I already had a bath. Can't you just give me a sponge bath or something so I don't have to move?"

"Again, lazy. And I know you already showered, but if you think I'm cuddling with you when you smell like sweat and sex, you can fuck right off." You tease, grinning with your tongue poking between your teeth. You turn around, heading into the bathroom and turning on the shower. After waiting for the water to warm up, you step in, relishing the warmth cascading over you. A few minute later, you feel Joe's arms wrap around your waist and his body pressing up against yours. You stand in silence for a few moments, letting water fall down over you both. He then turns you around in his arms so you're facing him, your arms around his neck.

"Y'know, we could have just done it in here, that way we could be in bed right now." He says, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes. You run your fingers over the short hairs at the back of his neck as he leans his forehead against yours.

"Hey, I'm not the one who fell asleep before we'd even had a chance to do anything."

His face falls a little. "I'm sorry, I've been kind of a shitty boyfriend recently, haven't I?"

"What are you talking about?" You frown up at him, his beautiful brown eyes avoiding yours.

"Well, just with conventions and appearances and everything, and how busy we've been, I haven't had time to just...be with you, y'know?"

"Joe, we live together, we travel together, we're with each other every day almost-"

"That's not what I mean, we haven't been on a date in literally forever, I was at the con in Tokyo the entire day of our anniversary, and my dad was with us all day before that, for fucks sake!"

"Your dad is pretty much with us all the time, babe. It doesnt bother me, you know how much I love him. Turn around." You say, squirting some shampoo into your hand and massaging his scalp. He sighs.

"See, this is what I mean. You do all this nice stuff for me, like the back rubs, the food runs, the surprise blowies-"

"Which I do because I want to, not because I feel like I have to." You take the shower head off the wall and rinse his hair out, before running some conditioner through it. "I love you, and I know exactly what being with you entails. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I got salty about everything?"

"A normal one." Joe retorts, turning back around and gesturing for you to turn your back to him so he can wash your hair for you. "And I'm glad you're not, I just feel bad. You do everything for me and I can't even give you five minutes recently."

You don't respond, revelling in the feel of his fingers on your scalp, massaging in the shampoo. You hum appreciatively. He rinses out the shampoo and runs conditioner through your hair, making sure to cover every inch. "When we get home, I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Joe-"

"Please? We can go out and celebrate our anniversary properly, dinner, drinks, a movie, whatever you want."

You turn back around to face him. "What I want, is to stay in, order Chinese, shag and then fall asleep on the sofa with you. Joe you don't have to take me out, or buy me shit to make me feel like you love me. I know you love me, without all the materialistic crap, okay?"

He said nothing, instead he looked at you his eyes looking a little misty. He was an emotional mess tonight, but you couldn't really blame him. He blinked a couple of times, and kissed you on the nose.

"Turn around, you sap." He mumbled, giving you a small smile. He basically meant 'stop before you make me cry' in fewer words. You laughed softly, before turning back around so he could rinse your hair and his. Once you're clean, you step out and dry yourselves off, and you put on Joe's shirt again, this time pairing it with some pyjama shorts. You quickly dry my hair before getting back into bed, settling down with your head on his chest and his arms around you. "See, isn't this better than standing up and actually moving?"

"Mm," you sigh, already feeling your eyes getting heavy. "I miss our bed though."

"Me too, when we get home we are gonna spoon so fucking hard in bed for like a week." He mumbles into your hair.

"What about food and stuff?" You look up at him, raising an eyebrow. He laughs.

"Of all the things you're worried about, I love how food is at the top of that list. I fucking love you." He kisses the top of your head and switches off the bedside light. "Maybe we can persuade Wes to bring us breakfast in bed."

"Oh yeah, I can totally see him being okay with that," you laugh, my hand resting on Joe's stomach. "If anything, you owe me breakfast in bed after all these bloody photos I've taken of you. Know how hard it is to make you look good mid sentence?"

"Ouch, low blow, babe."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. You know I love looking at you, chocolate button eyes." You tease, laughing as he groans into his pillow.

"I need to learn to think before I divulge all this stuff. I'm never shaking that am I?"

"Never ever."

#joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn

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blueshistorysims · 2 months

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February 1923, Henford-on-Bagley, England

Byron’s 28th birthday passed with little fanfare. He didn’t even invite his mother to visit. Instead, he’d spent the last two months holed up in his house, writing correspondence with linguists, philologists, archeologists, etc. He’d taken up Samson’s suggestion and buried himself in his passions, and when someone asked for a person in the UK who could read and translate Akkadian and Aramaic along with fluency in Arabic, he’d eagerly volunteered himself, acting as an additional translator for recently found tablets. He’d gotten so into it that he’d even had replicas made so he could study them.

When he wasn’t doing that, he’d decided to pick up translating books again, though he used a different name for publishers, but after learning there were no official English translations of the complied tablets of the Epic of Gilgamesh that included recent discoveries, he’d thrown himself into it, spending nearly all day in his study and library all day, only leaving to sleep, eat, or bathe. It was an obsession, overtaking every other thought he had, but he supposed it was better than being depressed and drinking, even if it was still isolation

A week after his birthday, Byron received a short letter from Wilhelmina.

Byron,

I haven’t heard from you in months. I hear you’ve been busy with all sorts of translation work, and I am interested to see what you will do with it—I doubt it is a coincidence that you are writing to the same publishing company my husband uses. Jack is about to publish his third book of poems, and we’re throwing a party to celebrate, and not to flatter myself, but I am a very good hostess, and most of our friends aren’t snobby little lords and ladies, but people I think you would like to get know, writers, artists, scholars, etc. both well known and unknown. Although Jack’s not a member of the Bloomsbury Group, he spends enough time with them I think he should be! It will be on the 2nd of March, Friday evening. The party starts at six, but I implore you to come early and stay with us for the week—there is a new exhibit at the British Museum featuring pre-Anglo-Saxon Celtic Britain, and with your knowledge and mastery of Common Brittonic, I fancy you would make a lovely guide and perhaps we’ll find a dirty phrase or two. I expect a telegram within the next two days once this letter arrives.

Warmest Regards (unless you fail to reply),

Wilhelmina Porter

He laughed, setting the letter down and shaking his head. Wilhelmina, he learned, was something of a hostess, and he’d heard of parties thrown by Jack Porter and his wife, though he’d never known it was her. But it wasn’t what he was thinking about. This, alongside being a letter from a friend, was also the first invitation he’d received since getting divorced, and in truth, he missed his heavy social life in New York, and while he wasn’t accepted among men of his noble rank, she was right. He longed to be in the social circles with the beliefs he held—so it didn’t take very long before he left the library to pack a suitcase for London.

#the walshes #the walsh legacy #ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 decades #sims 4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 story #ts4 historical #history simblr #sims 4 history challenge #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 1920s #1920s #byrons such a fucking nerd im so sad i cant use that word bc dr seuss hasn't invented it yet 😔#wilhelmina really said get your ass out here or else #byron walsh

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bluespring864 · 7 months

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Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @yoellglia, @kingfisherprince and @shambolicchaos for tagging me even though I haven't done one of these in months, I appreciate it <3 And look at this, I am actually doing a tag game.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 57. How did that happen.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

418,066. Some of those 57 are pretty long ;-)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Well I won't list them all, we'll be here tomorrow. The published ones are mainly: Tatort, Good Omens, Potter, Tennis RPF, Skating RPF and a few Music RPFs. There's an awful lot of WiPs from Sherlock Holmes to Poirot to Star Trek to Oasis to Austen to various Panel Shows to Les Miz to The Hobbit and back again though. Plus WiPs for all the published fandoms. Sigh.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Alright this is going to be a trip down memory lane, seeing as I'm mostly active in very niche fandoms these days. Also, this statistic is perhaps skewed by the fact that lots of my fics are in German (a few nearly made it onto the list though!) and my RPF is locked (for registered users only).

Days in the Sun: Tops the list by a very long way. Harry Potter. A Snape/Hermione post war fic published in 2018. I'm a different writer these days but I still like lots of things about it.

To Trust in One Another: Good Omens. Aziraphale/Crowley post Season 1. I remember the response to this overwhelming me at the time, I had never gotten so many comments so quickly after posting and haven't since. This fandom is so lovely (and filled with writers!).

To those who wait, eventually: Harry Potter. Snape/McGonagall. I love this pairing and this story. And while I am very surprised that both the Potter Fics I actually published are het, I am not surprised they both feature Severus Snape.

Almost Too Kind, or: Prometo: Figure Skating RPF. Yuzu/Javi. I still like the Yuzu POV, although I think I've perhaps written more interesting skating stories, but this was obviously the most popular parinig at the time. Hence the amount of kudos I guess.

Language Barrier Sidestepped: Figure Skating RPF. Yuzu/Javi. This one surprised me because it's just a silly fluffy oneshot. But with some language nerdship in the title and the story (that part is less surprising, if you know me)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always, and sometimes too verbosely :D I like a good comment discussion and I have made friends that way.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Angsty endings? Me? I would if I could. Maybe some day. I guess the angstiest one is this unrequited love drabble in the Tatort Münster Fandom.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Well, most of them have pretty happy endings, I think.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far. Most of the comments I get are really nice. I can remember only a handful slightly weird ones over the years.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No one is more surprised than me, but yes. In my case, it's usually part of a story and has a function in the story. But it can be pretty graphic because it's weird to me to treat sex as something to gloss over. That being said, sometimes a story decides on a fade to black. On the other end of the spectrum, I've also come pretty close to writing PwP, depending on your definition of it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Never written one, very rarely read them.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

People have asked for permission several times and I always grant it (of course I do) but I don't think I've ever gotten a link to a finished translation (which I always ask for). I get it though, some of my stories are pretty long and I know all about the difficulties of translation :-)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

It's not finished but I hope we can get back to it @kingfisherprince! I might not always be the easiest person to work with, but I thoroughly enjoyed it so far.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I don't have one, I write whatever pairing is interesting to me. And would love to write more gen fic if inspiration strikes. The concept of an OTP used to make no senses to me either, though I guess I've come close with Novandy in the Tennis fandom. I still write lots of other stuff in that fandom though.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have trouble going back to the Potter stuff for various reasons. Would love to finish a Snarry which is already at almost 30k but doubt I will. I also have a Poirot/Hastings case fic I really want to finish but (see writing weaknesses)

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm not sure. I hope Í write realistic relationships that make sense in the story. I try to write clear prose that's not too cluttered (I don't always succeed). Sometimes with my longer fics I've managed to slightly miraculously tie things together, which is amazing to me when it happens but I can't control that at all.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I sometimes overexplain. I tend to forget about 'setting the scene' descriptions now and then. And the big one: I can't plot for the life of me, I write as I go along, which isn't always a problem but definitely is when you try to write a murder mystery (I've got an unfinished Poirot one and an unfinished Tatort Münster one which I would love to continue).

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I like it, though I tend to use it relatively sparingly and either add translations or try to make it clear in other ways in the text what was being said (a translation degree comes in handy for this).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Well the first time I tried writing fic it was Kirk/Spock but the first thing I finished and published was Tatort Münster.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Don't do this to me. The answer will be different every day, I think, and for lots of reasons. This is not me being pretentious (I hope), because I would have just as much trouble choosing my favourite song or book etc. Let's pick Two and Two Together for today because I never would have thought I'd write a 42k poly fic, but here we are. I think we've established I sometimes surprise myself.

Tagging: I think most of the writers on my dash have been tagged... but maybe @bonos-grindcore-sideproject and @advantage-sinner and @savageandwise and @all-my-worlds-a-stage if you want to do it?

#about bluespring #it's been so long that i don't remember how i used to tag these

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abstractredd · 29 days

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AO3 Twenty Questions

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 17 wowzers

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 269,878. (but honestly that’s not super updated because oMaM is like… twice as long as what i have published on there lol. this also doesn’t include my older fics from Fanfiction.net and Wattpad which would easily give me another 150k)

3. what fandoms do you write for? mainly elder scrolls at the moment

4. what are your top five fics by kudos? (oh lord the bnha fics SHAKSJD)

5. do you respond to comments? i try to, always! i don’t think there’s many i haven’t responded to and if i haven’t it’s usually because it’s a friend of mine and i’ve already messaged them here or on discord LOL

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending not any of them really?? i’m a Happily Ever After kinda person. i mean i have one fic that’s a scene rewrite from Your Lie in April but it doesn’t actually change the canon outcome of the show which if you’ve seen it you’ll know it’s pretty “angsty” but i feel like that doesn’t count because i didn’t write that yknow

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? as previously established i’m a big fan of HEAs. literally all of them lol. although bad habit certainly has a pretty cheesy ending

8. do you get hate on fics? i have but that was way before my ao3 days. i honestly can’t recall if any of my ao3 fics have gotten hate? people are pretty chill on there in my experience. Fanfiction.net is a whole other animal though

9. do you write smut? if so what kind? oh absolutely. i’m a sexually active adult and i tend to both read and write about sexually active adults so i feel like there’s really no surprise there

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i have before but i’m not really a fan of them now, reading or writing. i wrote a superwholock fic in like, 2016, and that’s about it hahaha

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? no? is that a thing that happens?

12. have you ever had a fic translated? not on ao3 but one of my fics got translated to Italian by a fan on Wattpad once that was pretty cool

13. have you ever co-written a fic? yessir! me and my sibling in hadlof @plutoprophecy / @midnightfangz wrote one together: here

14. what’s your all time favorite ship? my OTP you mean. cmon let’s call it what it is. it’s patrochilles btw

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Go to Bed Dumbass. i stated writing it when i wasn’t in a good place mentally and i can’t even look back on it without getting bad memories. also i just had no idea where i was going with the plot. and i’m not in the bnha fandom anymore lol. i hate having unfinished fics on my page and have literally gone back to update years-old fics before but not this one.

16. what are your writing strengths? i like to think my prose is complicated enough to sound professional but not so over the top that my writing isn’t easily digestible. i feel like i can write dialogue pretty well too

17. what are your writing weaknesses? i feel like i have a problem with repeating myself lol. like i use the same conjunctions a lot. and i struggle with action/fight sequences but i feel like i’m getting better at those the more i write them (i didn’t write them at all really until i started writing TES fics)

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i mean. i feel like this is so situational. if the dialogue is crucial to the plot and it’s going to be a chore to make the average reader look up what it is? i don’t really care for it. but if it’s something off handed that doesn’t really change the plot or is more of a funny joke that a reader can get by either A) happening to speak the language or B) going out of their way to look it up and in that situation it’s more of a fun little bonus and not needed for them to understand the story beat that it’s a part of.

19. first fandom you wrote for? one piece. in 2013. lol

20. favorite fic you’ve written? i really really like somewhere the light won’t reach us. it’s a character study of a TES oc so it’s honestly closer to an original work than it is a fanfiction but i think it turned out really nice. i also think liebesfreud is a really good story and i'm in the process of making it into an original novel (with different character names obv)

not tagging anyone cuz im lazy but if you wanna do this go for it weeee

#redd writes #shutupberri #writeblr #ao3 author

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firstkanaphans · 3 months

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hii! i'm a big fan of your fanfics, and as an aspiring writer myself, sometimes I feel sad 'cause I know and feel like I won't ever be as good as you are ☹️ I know I shouldn't compare myself, and I'm trying to get better at it, so I would genuinely like to ask, are there any tips you'd give to authors out there trying to improve? either their writing skills, plot ideas, planning and stuff. thank you, either way, love you! can't wait for your next work ❣️

So, the first thing I want to say is that I have been writing for a long time. I published my first fanfic when I was 12 years old and I’m 31 now, so I’ve been actively writing for the past 19 years (!!!) with almost no break. The way someone explained it to me once was to look at your years writing like levels in a video game. I’m currently at level 19. If you’ve been writing for ten years, you’re at level 10 and it’s certainly not fair to compare yourself to me because the only thing that’s truly going to make you a better writer is to write.

I’m assuming since you called yourself an “aspiring writer” that your eventual goal is publication, so I’ll gear my recommendations towards that. Fanfiction is a completely different animal, but a lot of these tips are applicable to both. The biggest difference is that there’s a lot more freedom in fanfiction. You can write what you want without worrying about three-act structures and you don’t have to invest any work in making people care about the characters because they already do. It is worth noting, however, that if you write, you’re already a writer.

First, I highly recommend that you read “Save the Cat” by Blake Snyder. It changed my life and I’m not even kidding. It’s an absolutely fantastic book on writing and although it’s geared towards screenwriting instead of novels, everything is still applicable. (There’s actually a newer version called Save the Cat Writes a Novel, but I’ve never actually read that one so I don’t know if it’s as good.) He goes over how to plot a story and also how to write likable characters, which is surprisingly one of the hardest parts of writing original fiction.

The second biggest tip I can give you is to let yourself write badly. Editing is easier than writing. The most important thing is to get words down on the page. You would not believe how bad my first drafts are—and that’s not just me being coy. Honestly, the next time I sit down to write a fanfic, I might save my first draft for anyone who’s interested to read because my first drafts are always bad. Like legitimately. There’s a lot of freedom in letting yourself fail and your writing will turn out better for it.

I would also recommend getting a professional critique if you are able to because you’re never truly going to know what it is you need to improve upon unless someone tells you. Signing up for a writing retreat is a great way to do this or you can look for online critiquing services. I’ve gotten several chapter critiques from Scribbler in the past and I found them very helpful.

But truly, the most important thing is to just have fun. I heard Lin-Manuel Miranda talking about writing Hamilton once and he said that what he constantly kept asking himself was, “If no one else ever sees this, will writing it still have been worth it?” And for him, it was. That’s the kind of energy I try to write with. I write what I want when I want and if I find myself struggling to write a scene because it’s boring, I do something to make it not boring instead. Change things up! Have fun! Because otherwise, what’s the point?

About six years ago, a friend of mine said virtually the same thing you did in this ask: “I’ll never be as good as you.” She had been writing for less than a year at the time. We lost touch when I left fandom to pursue original fiction, but when I came back last year, I looked her up again. She has a Tumblr ficlet pinned at the top of her page with 10K+ notes. I could never.

So don’t count yourself out yet. Just keep writing.

#asks #writing advice

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kingfisherprince · 7 months

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Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

thank you @yoellglia for the tag! and don't sell yourself short as a writer, your fics are lovely

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

right now i have 35! hoping to reach 40 very soon because i have some oneshots and stuff in the works

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

139,645 (damn that's more than i expected)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

at the moment it's tennis and cycling rpf, with other sports-adjacent things sprinkled in

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

my most kudosed fic was hit by the bot, but the next five are grass stains when you kneel (tennis), sunflower white (cycling), fly to live (check, please), free pistachio ice cream (tennis) and polaris (cycling)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes! just because i always want to talk more and responding to comments / leaving comments has made me some of my best fandom friends

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

there's a few but it has to be summer seemed to last forever because what is angstier than 34 days!jackparse ?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

well i like hopeful more than happy endings but the end of whatever a moon has always meant is quite cute

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not so far! hoping to keep it that way haha it helps to write for tiny sports fandoms

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

nope.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

lord i used to as a kid but it never saw the light of day so i'll say no for this one (it was pretty crazy haha)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

that would require people to want to steal it XD no, i simply don't write the types of fics that people seem to steal

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

a couple, not published on my account. working on one as well!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

i don't really do all time favourites, especially not for shipping in fic. in my view a ship is a tool to tell a story or to convey a theme, so i like whatever allows me to do that

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

my cricket series ... i try not to give up on things but it's been a while.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i have gotten really good at body language and imagery which is something i practice a lot. i'm also good enough at grammar to break he rules on purpose now

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i don't sit down and just write often enough, and if something is frustrating me i tend to write it in a rush and not give it the attention it deserves (the last couple scenes of firefly jars are s perfect example, although i am proud of that fic as a whole)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i do it occasionally. i like to do it when it matters that it's in another language, like if the pov character doesn't understand it or a character making an effort to speak that language is a big deal. i don't include translations, and sometimes don't even italicize.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

on this account, cricket rpf.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

it's got to be route 66. my love, my life, my everything. i will update soon! ish. whenever my brain cooperates with me. of my recent fics i also really like your hand on my heart but that's a bit darker.

tagging @bluespring864 @strigimorphaes @softbrah @fftifft @polkadotjersey and @shambolicchaos as well as whoever wants to do it!

#this was fun i forgot how much ive done #writing #fisherkings fic #omgcp #tennis rpf #cricket rpf #cycling rpf #a game of tag

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jawnasaurus1 · 2 years

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WHY IS THE SHERLOCK FANDOM OBSESSED WITH 1895?

1. 221b Poem

If you’re a part of the Sherlock fandom, which if you’re reading this, there’s a high chance you are… then you’ve probably heard a lot of people mention something along the lines of: “It is always 1895”. This line actually originates from a poem named ‘221b’ by the poet Vincent Starret.

After extensive research, the year of 1895 does not prove significant to this specific poem other than it was the years of childhood for Vincent himself, when perhaps he read Sherlock Holmes? Though this was one year following the published ‘Memoirs Of Sherlock Holmes’ in which ‘The Final Problem’ took place as Sherlock fell to his “death” at the Falls Of Reichenbach so I struggle to see the significance myself. (please comment if you know)

In the modern day, the last line of that poem however has come to represent the repression of the Baker Street Boys in that they will never be able to outwardly homosexual because it’s 1895 and it’s against the law.

2. THE TRIALS OF OSCAR WILDE

Some of you may also recognise the date of 1895 to coincide with The Trials Of Oscar Wilde- who was an Irish poet and playwright, sentenced for ‘gross indecency’ (acts of homosexuality).

Now this is all relevant when taking into account Doyles relation to Wilde. In 1889, both Arthur and Oscar were invited to dinner at the Langham Hotel in London with a publisher for the Lippincott magazine. The two authors were very fond of each other and Doyle later wrote that Doyle complimented his lesser known work which definitely would have gotten the Irish poet in The Scotts good books.

After the Trials, Doyle wrote that it should have been a matter for the hospital, not prison. Considering the stigma around homosexuality in the 19th century, to say this would have been very progressive and quite a risk as well. It’s clear Doyle liked Wilde which, for the Sherlock fandom, creates hope that perhaps Conan Doyle did purposely sub-textually make johnlock canon.

More significantly perhaps to this, is Doyles possible link to The trials in his own Sherlock short story, The three students, which begins with:

What makes this more bizarre, is the fact that due to the time at which the story is set, John and Sherlock had to spend time apart… to what? Avoid suspicion? Why are the suspicious?

3. BBC SHERLOCK

BBC Sherlock mentions the year 1895 a lot. Whether that be Johns blog stuck at the number or the time setting for The Abominable Bride, it is definitely not a coincidence that Mark and Steven chose these dates as extended metaphors to tell us that “It is always 1895” even in 2010.

Firstly Johns blog:

In ‘A scandal In Belgravia’, John complains that his blog counter has been stuck on 1895 throughout Christmas and later on, Sherlock believes the blog has been hacked as a message to tell him the password to Irenes phone.

Now, the fact that Johns blog is stuck at 1895 is very telling in that Moffitss want us to understand that, although we are in modern times, for Sherlock and John, feelings between them are still repressed as if it were 1895. We see that Sherlock is quite angered by the blog being stuck at this number which could correlate with the fact that he does not want to hide his feelings towards John anymore due to stigma.

Secondly, the abominable bride, which Steven Moffat stated was very importantly set in 1895 for some bizarre reason… because it doesn’t come into the plot. The Abominable Bride is described by many as Sherlocks gay fever dream, quite understandably.

Although the year 1895 doesn’t directly appear to be of much importance, the ideas revolving Sherlocks sexual life certainly does. Sherlock and John share an… interesting conversation IN A GREENHOUSE on the topic of Sherlocks sexual urges, keep in mind that this is all in Sherlocks head. This is interesting because it means that Sherlock wants John to question him in real life and to start that conversation with him. (the exaggeration of “greenhouse” referring to the metaphor that they are not hidden as the walls are glass, they are open to each other and to the world.)

At the end of the episode, Sherlock stands melancholy like at the window, looking out longingly as the world around 221b progresses in age, but, for the Baker Steer boys, “it is always 1895.”

#sherlock holmes #sherlock #221b baker street #johnlock #conan doyle #benedict cumberbatch #martin freeman #mofftiss #1895 #sherlockbbc #theory

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seiya-starsniper · 7 months

Text

20 questions for fic writers!

TRIPLE TAG THREAT from my faves @arialerendeair @bazzybelle and @honeyteacakes, I love you guys so so so much!!!!! 💖💖💖

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 36 in total published, a whole bunch more in drafts!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

167,076 which is crazy when you consider 146,736 are just from THIS YEAR

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Sandman, currently! I have a couple of WIPs for other fandoms but I just haven't gotten around to them.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Dreams for a Dozen Cats - 527 kudos A Dream for a Viscount - 513 kudos and if I get burned, at least we were electrified - 504 kudos Wake Up & Smell The Flowers - 457 kudos Let's conspire to ignite - 397 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I've been bad about it lately, but I love responding because I absolutely adore the dynamic of being able to communicate with my readers. It's just a tiring exercise and I have to be really in the mood to do it! But I absolutely love and adore every comment I receive 💖💖💖

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

A sweet dream - it's the only one where I've used the tag Main Character Death! The ending is quite hopeful, but the death is in fact permanent, take care if you choose to read it!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hnnnnnnngh I have absolutely no fucking idea because they almost all have really happy endings! That's like asking me to pick a favorite child. Honestly though, if you want sappy and sexy romance throughout an entire fic with literally zero conflict, then my happiest ending is probably A Dream for a Viscount. If you want ANGST ANGST ANGST with a massive payoff and a lot of hurt/comfort leading up to a soft ending, my happiest ending is the one in and if I get burned, at least we were electrified

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not on AO3! In my ff.net days though, whew lordy the salt was strong whenever I wrote somebody's NOTP and dared to publish it. Those were some interesting days.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Well, seeing as I am a mod for @monsterfucktoberbingo....I think you can probably guess what type of smut I write LMAO. I do write quite a bit of omegaverse too just to spice things up 😄

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have! Back in my ff.net days, my teenage self LIVED on the high school fandom crossover fic. I shall never return to those days ever again, but I had a good time. I also recently wrote this Dreamling/SnowBaz crossover for my beloved @bazzybelle💖💖💖

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge! I never really participated in fandoms where fic stealing was common thankfully.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! I have absolutely no idea what site it ended up on, but I've had my fics translated into Russian and Chinese.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not in a really long time! When I was a teen, I used to RP characters with my friends as a writing exercise, and then that would turn into a fic! I also absolutely LOVED the round robin fic culture back in the old livejournal days. (can you tell I'm dating myself heavily lmao)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

00Q hands down. I'm still reading old favorites to this day. Although, I will admit Dreamling is a pretty damn close second considering *gestures vaguely(

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh lord, I have quite a few, published and unpublished. Most of my published unfinished WIPs are just rotting on ff.net and I've made my peace with them. Unpublished WIPs...I have quite a few SamBucky fics that never made it out of drafts and I'm really sad about that because I really loved that ship at one point :(

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have a few I'm pretty proud of: - Succinctness: I can tell a whole story in under 10k words. One-shots are my bread and butter. - Angst: Do you want to cry? I'll make you cry and wring your soul out with no regrets. - Fluff: On the opposite end of the spectrum, if you want to feel soft and like you're snuggling with a cloud, I can do that for you too. Fluff is such a delight to write, because I like to feel good, and I love making others feel good too 💖 - Dialogue: I love writing dialogue. It's such a delight to try and figure what a character would say when placed in ~situations~

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Whew lordy, here we goooooooooooo: - Longfic/Multichapter fics: I can and have written longer fics, but it's highly demotivating for me. I am struggling so hard to finish my multi-chapter fics right now, it's a nightmare. I'll get there, but... - Descriptions: I AM SO BAD AT MAKING SETTINGS AND DESCRIBING HOW PEOPLE LOOK. I'm sure some people will disagree with me, but I some days I truly hate my inability to describe things the way I want to, or the way I've seen other people be able to. It is a thing I am working on, for sure, I know it's just a matter of practice. - WIP hell: I start and stop things at the drop of a hat. Rest in pieces to all my ideas stuck in partially written states - Plot Summaries: I can write a whole thing and be utterly unable to give you a plot summary. Save me hahahahaha

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I LOVE IT. It's not for me since I only speak English, but I love coming across it in fic.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

...heh. I thought this was gonna be harder but it's definitely and if I get burned, at least we were electrified. This fic dragged me out of lurking in fandom to full on writing and participating again. It's my most canon-adjacent fic. It's got angst and action and feelings. It has tentacle sex. It has the Corinthian being indulged within an inch of his life. This fic is a love letter to myself, it the reason I am here, in sandman fandom, writing as much as I am. Is it my best written story out of all my fics? No, it was my first fic after a long writing hiatus and while I consider it a well written piece, I also like to think my writing quality has increased since I first wrote it. But it is my favorite fic, for all the reasons above, and for the sheer joy it brought into my life then, and in the subsequent months after.

Tagging: @valiantstarlights @five-and-dimes @chaosheadspace @ironwoman359 @silver-dream89 @rosaren2498 @bruce-wayne-simp @acedragontype and whoever else wants to do it!

#seiya gets tagged #fanfic writer ask game

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chainofmoon · 1 year

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In the Shadows of Our Disoriented Love - Chapter One

A Sebastian x Ominis x Reader story originally published on my AO3 under the same pseudonym. If found elsewhere, it’s not posted by me. This work will only be found on my Tumblr and AO3. Do not repost, but reblogging is welcomed.

“Most people are lucky to have even one great love in their life. You have found two.” -Clockwork Princess

one || two

What a very peculiar situation you’ve gotten yourself into. First and foremost, you were attacked by a dragon that caused your delay to Hogwarts. Thus, you made a bit of an entrance to the sorting ceremony (being the last student, and possibly the oldest, to get sorted).

The other students bombarded you with questions about your whereabouts once the Head Wizard and Witch settled everyone down to the common room. You kept the explanation veg as Professor Fig – the man that brought you to Hogwarts and the one who taught you the basics to prepare you for starting the school term so late – had requested.

It was a simple story; you were immediately knocked out upon impact from the dragon biting the carriage in half, so you don’t remember much. Although, you did recall catching a quick glimpse of the Thestrals – your permanent reminder that you have witnessed the death of the Ministry wizard and the poor, innocent driver. Professor Fig had rescued you and safely brought you to the castle grounds. Most were satisfied with that story whilst the rest had expected something along the lines of fighting off spiders and poachers.

Now, your current situation; you are to sneak into the Restricted Section of the school’s library along with your fellow Slytherin classmate, Sebastian Sallow.

You first met Sebastian during your Defense Against the Dark Arts class. You both dueled each other and to everyone’s surprise, you had the upper hand. He was rather impressed with how you easily took him down and you admitted that it wasn’t your first duel. It’s sort of true if you count fighting off those armored guards at that strange place you and Professor Fig somehow stumbled upon. There, you discover you possess the sight to see some sort of “Ancient Magic”.

You invited Sebastian to accompany you to Hogsmeade to replace your lost school supplies – sadly, your books and robes could not be saved, but you're happy your owl found its way back to you.

“You’re the only one who’s ever bested me in a duel. The way I see it, I’d be wise to keep an eye on you.”

True to his Slytherin nature, he would want to keep his competition nearby. It was the perfect opportunity to discover your secrets whilst being an excuse to get out of detention.

Of course, your trip wouldn’t end on a good note and you both had a run in with a troll and Victor Rickwood. You later explained your story, not the made up one, and asked him to sneak you into the Restricted Section.

“See there? That’s the door we need to reach”.

Sebastian didn’t need to point to which door since it was obvious to tell by the two prefects in front, standing guard.

“And those annoying prefects would love nothing more than to rat on us to Scribner”, he informs with slight annoyance in his voice. “So don’t let them see us – understood?”

“I can be sneaky. Let’s go.” You say a bit too eagerly as you immediately head for the last flight of stairs.

“Hold on now,” Sebastian pulls your sleeve a bit to stop you before you could go anywhere. “There’s a spell you should know – The Disillusionment Charm. Good for getting you’re not supposed to be.”

He quickly goes over the incantation and you successfully cast it on your first try. Thankfully, it’s a simple charm. To your disappointment, it doesn’t turn you fully invisible, only camouflage with your surroundings.

Sebastian leads you down the stairs and around the Gryffindor prefect that was standing guard at the bottom. Luckily, it was easier to get through the library entrance since the prefects were distracted with chatting about their weekend plans.

“Blast, the librarian is still here.” Sebastian says and grabs your arm to pull you behind a bookcase.

“You told me the librarian would be gone by now.” You whisper to him.

“I said “usually”,” he whispers back. “Alright, new plan; I’ll distract her and you grab the key from her desk. We’ll meet at the Restricted Section.”

“Wait, why do we need a key? Isn’t there a spell for it?”

“Alohomora? That’s how I always used to get in, but the librarian twigged that I knew the spell and cast an Anti-Alohomora charm on the lock.”

“And now we would need the key, right?”

“Right, but don’t worry. I said I’d get you in, and I always keep my word. Trust me.” He winks before swiftly making his way towards a stack of books to knock them over. Taking advantage of the librarian investigating the source of the sound, you crawl to the desk and fish in the drawer for the key.

You notice that Sebastian was already at the Restricted Section – which wasn’t too far from the front desk. You hold up the key and he nods, indicating that it was the right one.

As the librarian approaches her desk, you practically sprint to Sebastian and hand him the gold key to finally open the lock.

“Don’t get too comfortable, we have ghosts.” He mentions as you were ready to remove the Disillusionment Charm.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was – now, silent as a grave.”

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Maybe you should’ve waited until Professor Fig and Headmaster Black were finished with their business, so Fig could easily let you in and you wouldn’t need to do all this sneaking around. But alas, you need that book as soon as possible and you don’t have time to wait.

Sebastian was an expert at this type of situation and you were both able to make it safely around the ghosts. He then gives the signal to remove the charm once you’re out of sight.

“So, what is it you’ve been looking for?” You ask. You take notice that Sebastian is already digging through a stack of books, hidden on the lower shelf. You wonder if he left it there to continue searching for whatever he was looking for. You took this as a sign to explore the room a bit while keeping an eye out for the book.

“I’ve been looking for a cure to help my sister, Anne – so she can return to Hogwarts.” He answers while flipping through the pages of the book he has laying on his lap.

“Why do you think you’ll find a cure in the Restricted Section? Does the Hogwarts matron have nothing that can help Anne?” You didn’t mean to pry, but curiosity got the better of you and you couldn’t help but ask questions.

“No! We’ve tried everyone from Nurse Blainey to St. Mungo’s.” He sounds frustrated and fed up, but it wasn’t directed towards you. It was the memory of going through countless nurses and all were unsuccessful. “But, I can research on my own. Let’s focus on what you’re after – which is what, precisely?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

“You’re being awfully cryptic.”

------

After nearly an hour of searching, and going through every nook and cranny of the Restricted Section, you weren’t even close to finding that damn book. Eventually, you reached the attic – which was mainly used to supply outdated textbooks and storage.

You wonder if you missed it somewhere while you and Sebastian were laughing at some of the ridiculous titles of the muggle novels or you simply weren’t looking hard enough.

An all too familiar, annoying voice announces; “Who have we here?”

Damnit. Not now, it can’t be–

“Damnit, Peeves.” You utter under your breath as the poltergeist ghost appears above you and Sebastian. It was obvious Sebastian is annoyed by his furred brows and him groaning, “Fucking Peeves.”

“Sebastian Sallows and his new little friend, out exploring where they shouldn’t be!” Peeves the Poltergeist laughs as he starts chanting, “I’m going to tell. I’m going to tell. I’m going to tell.”

“I’ve got to stop him or at least have a good excuse for all of this.” Sebastian says as he starts to chase after Peeves.

“Wait!” You stop him before he could get too far. “I don’t want you getting into trouble for me.”

“I have a way with the faculty when it comes to disciplinary matters. Besides –” He grins. You don’t like that look; that mischievous grin that all Slytherins seem to possess when they appear to be scheming something. “I like having friends who are in my debt.”

You were going to question what he meant, but he already applied his Disillusionment Charm and darts towards Peeve’s direction.

------

It felt like you had been in that strange Antechamber for hours. You did not expect to be led to a hidden room and you also did not anticipate to fight off more of those enchanted armored guards. But it was good practice for the new Incendio spell you recently learned from Professor Hecat.

When you returned back to Hogwarts, it seemed as if time didn’t even move – like it picked up right where you left off.

You hurry to the front desk and you hope you can catch up to Sebastian, but it appears Peeves got to him first. You scurry under a table when you see the librarian approach Sebastian.

“Sneaking in the Restricted Section – again!” Scribner scolds and there’s no indication she is going to stop any time soon. “That being said, Peeves informs me that you didn’t come alone tonight.”

Her expression softens and she leans to whisper, “If someone has coerced you, I would have you tell me. You’re a bright boy, don’t waste this.”

Sebastian looks in your direction and instantly makes eye contact with you. You cower back a bit, ready for him to point at you and rat you out.

He looks back at Scribner. “There was nobody else. I came alone.”

“Oh, Sebastian. What will your uncle say?” Scribner shakes her head and walks to her desk to write an Owl to Headmaster Black and Sebastian another detention slip.

You crawl out from under the desk and quickly leave the library. You are ready to retire to your dormitory for tonight. You don’t remember the last time you got proper sleep due to the stress of discovering your new capability while balancing school work on top of it.

As you walk to your common, the lingering question of “Why?” played in your head. Why would he jump in and easily take the blame for you even though he barely knew you? He knew you were hiding under the desk and he could’ve easily ratted you.

Perhaps in true Slytherin fashion, he saw some sort of potential in you, thus needing a reason to keep you around.

End Note: i just finished reading The Atlas Six and my brain is fried but i feel so studious :))

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