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itneverendshere · 2 months

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erase all of my memories without you - rafe cameron.

part 2 of can't remember anything before you.

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton!reader; brother's best friend! trope or best friend's sister! trope lmao; fem!reader.

word count: a lot??

WARNINGS: boyfriend!rafe <3; rafe being the biggest lover boy; tooth-rotting fluff if im being honest; topper's a dick but just for a sec; rafe is down bad; so cute.

“rafe, i told you, no hickeys!”

“can you blame me?” he has that mischievous gleam in his eyes, like he's testing just how far he can push your boundaries. “you’re just so pretty, baby.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain a serious tone despite the playful grin pulling at your lips. “shut up.”

being with rafe cameron was not on your yearly plans, but every single day, you thank your lucky stars for finally doing something right. he's a total game-changer, your personal slice of heaven.

who would have thought the universe had that kind of surprise up its sleeve?

he leans in closer, breath warm against your ear, arms wrapped securely around your waist, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "i should visit more often if that’s how you’re going to greet me each time.”

you can't help but lean back into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness.

"you should." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers gently tracing circles on his hand. “wouldn't mind that at all."

you’d been together ever since that fateful night in your garden, months ago.

sneaking around had its thrills, especially with your brother always lurking nearby, but nothing compared to the challenge of a long-distance relationship. late-night calls, stolen moments of intimacy over video chats, and endless messages are your lifelines.

so when rafe finally stepped through the door of your new york apartment last night, after weeks apart, it was no surprise that you couldn't help but pounce on him, eager to make up for lost time. his slutty grey sweatpants, his choice of comfortable for a flight, were imprinted into your brain.

“so, so pretty." he murmurs, lips brushing against your earlobe, “y'know i can't resist leaving my mark on you."

you playfully swat at him, a grin spreading across your face despite your half-hearted protest, “topper would kill you."

rafe snorts, the sound traveling through your body as he presses a kiss to your temple, “he can try.”

you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of keeping your relationship with rafe under wraps. it’s not like you don’t want to make it official, god, you do. but you’ve spent the last four months having him all to yourself, you don’t want other people to butt in and ruin everything with their unsolicited opinions.

being with him feels right. he's your rock, your constant in a world that's always changing.

“can we go back to bed now?” rafe’s warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks, his voice laced with a hint of grogginess, sleep still clouding his brain, “it’s fucking freezing.”

you chuckle quietly at his sleepy request, the sound mixing with the gentle hum of the heater as it struggles to combat the winter chill.

“course." you murmur, unwrapping yourself from his arms to press a tender kiss to his cheek, "let's get you warmed up."

his fingers don’t let you move an inch away, circling your wrist to pull you closer against his chest again, big cheeky smile on his face as he looks down at you. “you gonna warm me up, peach?”

"i might." you reply with a sly smirk, trailing a finger down his shirtless chest. "but you might have to work for it a little."

rafe's eyes widen with mock surprise. "is that so?" he asks, his voice low and husky as he pulls you closer. “well, lucky for you, i’m up for a challenge."

you’d never felt butterflies in your tummy until you started dating this man. he has you wrapped around his fingers, and you don’t want out. it physically hurts you to even think about a time when you didn’t have rafe like this.

you can't imagine being anywhere else but here, wrapped in his embrace.

with a playful giggle, you give him a knowing look. "’m counting on it," you murmur, as you pull him closer. you stand on your barefoot tiptoes, arms lacing around his neck. “really missed you.”

rafe's arms tighten around you as he pulls you impossibly close, his warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. his gaze softens, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter even faster.

“missed you too, more than you know." he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours as he leans in to press a docile kiss to your lips.

“always thinking about my girl.”

as his lips meet yours, a wave of warmth washes over you, melting away any lingering traces of cold or distance. fuck, you’re in love with him and if he keeps kissing you like this, you might confess earlier. you’re way in over your head.

you sigh contentedly against his lips, savoring the feeling of being so close to him after being apart for so long. his touch, his scent, his presence—all of it feels like home to you. breaking the kiss reluctantly, you rest your forehead against his.

“stop staring at me like that peach.” he scolds, but there’s no bite to his tone as his fingertips brush your cheek lightly. “gonna end up buying this fucking building if you keep that up.”

you smile again, that’s all you seem to do around him anyway, as his beautiful eyes sweep up from your lips to meet your own. “rafe cameron living in new york? i’d pay to see that.”

rafe chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending pleasant vibrations through your body. his fingers trace lazy patterns along your cheek, his touch sweet and affectionate.

“you'd pay to see it, huh?" he teases, a playful glint in his face as he leans in closer to you, his breath warm against your skin. “’m that good of an investment?”

you can't help but laugh at his playful banter, shaking your head. you love that you get to see this side of him, how soft he is with you, only you.

“you’re alright cameron.”

"jus’ alright?" he feigns offense, his hand moving to rest over his heart in an exaggerated manner. "take it back.”

“nop.”

rafe lets out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be wounded. "no?”

you can't help but giggle at his theatrics, finding it endearing how he always manages to lighten the mood.

"you big baby." you tease, poking him playfully in the side.

“oh, i’ll show you big.”

before you can even wrap your brain around his innuendo, you’re being thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. he does it so effortlessly you almost swoon.

you squeal in surprise, the sudden movement catching you off guard. "rafe, what the fuck?" you laugh, squirming slightly as he carries you effortlessly across the room. “what are you doing—hey!”

his palm smacks against one of your cheeks, covered by nothing except a pair of his ralph lauren boxers. “taking you to bed, where you belong.”

you play along, pretending to protest even as you secretly enjoy the attention.

"and what if i don't want to go to bed?" you retort, trying to sound defiant.

rafe stops in his tracks, his grip tightening around your legs. "oh, trust me, peach," he says, his tone turning serious for a moment, "you definitely want to go to bed."

“hmm, not sure.”

“it’s okay brat, you’ll be sure soon enough." he teases, deep voice making you want to do the most immoral things on every single surface of your apartment.

a repeat of last night.

you play along, feigning uncertainty as he deposits you gently onto the queen-sized bed, his stare burning with desire as he hovers over you, thick arms caging you in. one of your hands wraps around his bicep, nails grazing the skin as you glance up at him, head tilted to the side.

rafe’s eyes instantly move to your neck as your hair slips behind, tongue poking out to wet his lips, "i don't know, baby, might have to convince me."

he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "consider it my pleasure." he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly gentle kiss.

you feel a shiver run down your back as rafe's lips meet yours, his kiss sending a surge of electricity through your body. you’ll never get used to this. his touch is both tender and assertive, his lips moving against yours with a practiced finesse that leaves you breathless.

it's like every nerve in your being wakes up, responding eagerly to his touch.

as he deepens the kiss, his hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips with a possessive urgency, with a sense of familiarity as if committing every curve to memory. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss even further, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before delving into your mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss. you melt against him, surrendering.

you feel a surge of heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, your breath catching in your throat as he explores you with a hunger that leaves you trembling.

“better than alright?” he mumbles against your lips and you find yourself unable to resist the pull of his touch, arching against him in silent invitation. his lips trail a path of fire along your jawline and down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, “lost your voice, huh?”

he’s so addicted to sucking harshly on your skin, nibbling it playfully to drag out and elicit the sweetest sounds from your mouth. a melodic moan escapes your parted lips.

“you’re such an asshole.”

“there she is.” rafe's husky chuckle fills the air, sending pleasant vibrations through your body as he continues to pepper kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fiery trail of craving in its wake. “’m your asshole though.”

“not if you keep teasing.”

his lips pause their trail, hovering just above your skin as he looks up at you, one of his brows raised, "teasing?”

before you can protest his lips are on yours again, hungry and demanding. his hands roam over your body with a newfound urgency, tracing every corner and eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. he has the audacity to hush you when he pins you harder with his hips, clothed cock rubbing perfectly against you.

your nails can’t help but dig into his shoulders, pulling at the skin. the way he's moving against you makes you feel like getting on your knees and letting him do whatever he wants to you, for however long he wishes to.

but then, your stupid intercom is buzzing.

you both freeze, caught in the throes of passion interrupted. rafe drops his head on your shoulder, groaning.

"seriously?" he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he rolls off you, giving you space to sit up.

“it’s probably breakfast.” you’re smoothing out your rumpled clothes— if you can call an oversized tee and boxers an outfit.

rafe lets out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the bed, “’m so hard it hurts.” he whines, throwing an arm over his face.

“you’ll be fine.”

“can’t even see you right now, might cum in my sweats.” he mutters, his voice muffled by the fabric of your pillows.

you stifle a laugh, shaking your head at his melodramatic response.

"you're ridiculous." you tease, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

rafe peeks out from under his arm, giving you a glare, his bottom lip jutting out in a comically exaggerated pout. “and you're making me harder, stop touching me and go get the door.”

you lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, feet planted on the ground as you attempt to get up, but he’s quick to pull you down again. his beefy arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back on top of him.

“rafe.”

“gimme a kiss before you go.”

“though you didn’t want me to touch you.” you tease, leaning down to press a short kiss to his lips. it's meant to be quick, just a peck, but his hand snakes up to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. settling on your lower lip, he draws it into his mouth, sucking lightly, pushing you even closer. he runs his hands along your sides, one stopping just below your covered breasts—

“the door,” you manage to stutter out between kisses, “behave.”

when he finally pulls away, both your lips are slightly swollen, red and you’re both breathless.

"there," you say as you push yourself off the bed once more. but this time, rafe lets you go without protest, admiring you with a lazy smile as you make your way to the door.

when you moved back to new york three months ago, you chose to do it independently. while your parents owned at least three penthouses in the city, you needed something smaller. what was the point in living alone in such big apartments? you’d be miserable and alone most of the time.

you chose a smaller studio, fancy enough to be your type, but cozy enough to make you feel at home, even though you were miles away.

as you reach the door, you glance back to see rafe still lounging in your bed, arms crossed lazily behind his head. you shake your own, turn back, and open the door.

your heart immediately falls through your ass.

“topper?!”

he ignores you, pushing you aside to enter as he focuses on removing the thick scarf around his neck, struggling to get it off as he rants.

“about damn time, you know how long i was outside?! swear to god i hate this city, it’s freezing for no reason and—is that rafe fucking cameron on your bed?!”

you freeze in place, feeling a knot form in your stomach as you watch topper's reaction unfold. rafe, ever the cool customer, sits up in bed, a smirk playing at his lips as he meets your brother’s incredulous gaze head-on. you can feel a headache forming in the back of your head.

"hey, top." rafe geets, his tone casual as if he's just encountered an old friend. which he has because that’s his best friend. "long time no see?"

topper's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of rafe lounging on your bed, “okay, okay. what the fuck is going on?”

he's going to freak out on you.

you clear your throat, trying to find the right words to explain the situation, “he’s visiting.”

top nods, not leaving his best friend out of his sight, “clearly! why are you in my sister’s bed, cameron?”

“was i supposed to sleep on the floor?” rafe replies, tone nonchalantly as he shrugs casually.

you’re going to kill him.

topper's jaw clenches as he shoots rafe a glare, clearly unimpressed by his answer. "you know damn well what i mean." he says, his voice menacing, so different from what you're used to.

rafe's smirk only widens, “relax, man," he says, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "we were just hanging out."

and about to have sex, but your brother doesn’t need all the details.

topper's expression darkens further at your boyfriend’s flippant attitude, and you can practically feel the terrible outcome.

"in her bed?" he asks, his voice dangerously low.

you step forward, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalates any further.

"topper, it's not what you think," you begin, but your brother holds up a hand to silence you.

“and why are you wearing his clothes?”

you glance down at your choice of outfit, flustered, you try to come up with a plausible explanation, “uh—well—it's a funny story, i-i'm out of clothes actually, who knew doing your laundry took so much work?”

his attention flickers between you and rafe, suspicion evident in his expression. you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

"out of clothes?" he repeats, his tone incredulous. "and you decided to borrow his?"

you shift uncomfortably under his scrutinization, trying to come up with a better explanation, but you can’t. “yeah?”

he squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s in pain, “please tell me my sister isn’t fucking my best friend.”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you, but rafe speaks before you can conjure the words.

“your sister isn’t fucking your best friend, happy?”

you shoot rafe a warning look, silently pleading for him to play along and not make the situation worse.

you step forward, again. “topper, please, it's not what you think,” you say, your voice tinged with desperation. “rafe just came to visit, that's all.”

topper's stare softens as he contemplates, but his expression remains guarded. “and you didn't think to tell me?”

you bite your lip, feeling guilty for keeping your relationship with rafe a secret from your brother. “i wanted to, i just... didn't know how.”

rafe interjects, his tone more serious now. “top, i know this probably looks bad—”

“it looks really bad,” topper interrupts, his frustration evident.

“but nothing's happened,” rafe continues, ignoring the interruption. “we're just friends.”

but your brother is still inspecting you. and it’s only when his eyes descend to your neck, you realize what he’s looking at.

“is that why she got at least three hickeys on her neck?”

you feel a flush rise to your cheeks as topper's accusation hangs heavy in the air. you stare nervously at rafe, hoping he'll come up with a believable explanation, but he just shrugs nonchalantly, as if the hickeys are no big deal.

“they’re not hickeys, i burned myself with my curling iron.”

“yeah and i’m fucking adriana lima on my spare time.”

“okay?” you quickly turn your head back to the wall because you think you're about to puke up everything you just ingested.

"oh fuck, not you." top groans in frustration, seeing where rafe googly looks are directed, “not you two! you can't be serious?! that's my sister, dude; come on!"

rafe finally stands up from your bed, his tone is firm, his expression serious as he steps closer to your brother, his hands held out in a placating gesture. “it’s not like that.”

topper glances back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the adoration in rafe’s face now that you are looking back at him. a sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him since he walked through the door.

“i can’t fucking believe this.”

“it’s not like that,” rafe repeats, walking to your side, hating the way your eyes are starting to water. he keeps his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your cold skin, “we’re together. and watch your fucking tone when you speak to her.”

“don’t tell me how to speak to my sister!"

rafe's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. despite that, his hand remains steady on your arm, offering you a silent anchor of support. you feel a knot tighten in your stomach as you testify the tension between the two most important men in your life escalates.

"guys, please," you interject, your voice trembling, "this isn't helping anything."

“you’re in love with her, cameron?”

topper’s question makes you want to dig a hole in the middle of your studio and run.

what the hell?!

he can’t just barge in and make everything a mess. this is what you were afraid of, people meddling with your relationship. you and rafe haven’t discussed it yet. yeah it’s clear you’re in love with him, but you want to be the one to tell him and vice versa. you don’t want him to feel pressured to do it.

rafe's hand tightens on your arm, anchoring himself with the feeling of you beneath his fingertips. his eyes search yours for guidance. you can see the conflict in his expression.

he doesn’t shy away from the question, and his gaze never leaves yours. he traces every line of your face, “yeah, i am.”

the words hang in the air, a declaration that changes everything and nothing all at once. then time stops. your stomach turns unhelpfully, and you feel your skin turn clammy.

from the corner of your eye, you see the shock register on your brother’s face before he can hide it. strangely, he seems to understand now, perhaps more than you realized he would. for a moment, there's silence in the room, the weight of rafe's confession settling over all of you. but then topper lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging with the weight of understanding.

"okay," he says, his voice softer now, lacking the edge of anger from before. "okay."

you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, feeling a sense of relief flood through you. despite the uncertainty of what comes next.

rafe's hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch grounding you.

"thank you," you say to topper, your voice barely above a whisper but brimmed with gratitude.

he nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "just... take care of each other, okay?"

“can you leave now?” rafe all but interrupts the sentimental exchange, “kinda need to properly confess.”

topper raises an eyebrow at his abrupt request, clearly caught off guard by the bluntness. but after a second of hesitation, he nods, pushing himself off the wall where he's been leaning.

"yeah, sure," he says, giving you a meaningful look before turning to leave. "just... be careful, both of you. i’ll stop by later for dinner."

you offer him a small smile in return, feeling a shit ton of emotions swirling inside you as you watch him go. once he's out of sight, you let out a sigh, the tension in the room finally dissipating.

rafe releases your hand, moving to close the door behind topper before returning to your side. his expression is softer now, focused solely on you.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice soft as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

you nod, offering him a shaky smile. "yeah, think so. that was... unexpected."

rafe pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he never wants to let you go.

"m’ sorry peach," he murmurs against your hair, his voice filled with regret. "didn't mean to drop that bomb on ya like that."

you sink into his embrace, finding comfort in the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. "t's okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you nuzzle into his chest. "just wish it had been different."

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, arms tightening around you protectively. "i know," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

then, as if a floodgate has opened within you, the words spill from your lips, raw and unfiltered. "i’m in love with you too, rafe."

his arms around you tighten, as if to reassure himself that your words are real.

"i love you," he murmurs against your hair, "more than anything."

you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “you’re gonna make me cry.”

he pulls back slowly, cupping your face in his hands and wiping away the tears that have started to fall. "hey now, no tears, baby. only happy ones, yeah?"

you nod, sniffling but managing a watery smile. "yeah, happy tears. because i love you, rafe cameron."

he smiles back, a gentleness in him you've never seen before.

"and i love you, more than anything in this world."

you can't help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your cheeks. his stare is full of tenderness, his thumb gently brushing away the last traces of tears.

"you're everything, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice overflowing with sincerity.

you nod, feeling a lump forming in your throat at the depth of his words. "yeah, i do. and so are you.”

he leans in closer, lips capturing yours in a sweet kiss. he moves against you with a gentle fervor, his hands cradling your face as if you're the most precious thing in the world to him. and in that moment, you know without a doubt that you are and as you pull away, breathless yet content, you rest your forehead against his, savoring the closeness and the warmth that surrounds you.

"i love you," you whisper.

"i love you too, always," rafe replies, his voice a gentle caress against your skin.

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darylsfavoritegirl · 2 months

Note

Can you do a Daryl fic where you fuck and then he says he’s not into labels :( and it makes u sad and comfort

I love this idea !!! lesss goo

A/N: Sorry if these are taking longer than you thought!! im putting myself all in between the breaks i manage to get from school lol. I liked this personally, not sure if i managed to put out a good "comfort" though but there you go anon!

Your eyes flickered at Daryl's scars covering his entire back alongside of his tattoos that looked very much like to having been done by an amateur. You had been wondering their story for a long time now, yet never had the courage to question him vulgarly.

You moved your legs restlessly under the thin sheets, feeling his seeds sticking to your thighs and dripping onto the bed.

He was never at ease with such things. From the very beginning of your "relationship" that is, just warming eachother's bed on these aggravating days of the apocalpyse, where former human beings becoming foes to the geniune humanity. Hence, you always had to wait for him to leave first. There'd be nights so lewd, so scarlet that he'd feel adequate enough to let his guard down now and then. He'd fall next to you on the bed. He'd try to maintain his heaving chest as he'd cover up his downer body with sheets and would just lie down, your bodies so close to eachother, so warm that you'd feel sheltered against his bare skin. And then, he'd bend down to grab his denim jeans and take out the pack of cigarattes you'd looted from a walker's jackets earlier.

At times, there'd be enough to last you a week but at other times there'd be so little amount that you would share one. He would pass a cigaratte to you that he had taken a long drag of. You'd draw the cigaratte to your lips, savoring the tip of the cigaratte he'd moistened with his lips.

But on this specific night, both of you were high on joints. These thoughts entangled your mind as your attention shifted on the flexing muscles on his back while he put on a t-shirt.

You spoke your mind, without giving it a second thought nor being aware of his upcoming run with Glenn and Rick tomorrow early in the morning.

"Why don't you sleep here?" You uttered low, tracing your knuckles across the downy sheet incase he'd turn to face you, you couldn't dare.

"Why, are ya need in company?" He grunted in a headlessness manner as if to drop a joke. You despised how he practically didn't pay any attention to it.

You felt blood rushing to your face. The humid already made it unendurable to stay under the sheet and now this. You took deep, instable breaths.

"No." Your voice was unexpectedly trembling slightly. You shook your head as you scoffed. Now, he was facing you.

"It's just..." You were already in remorse, wishing you hadn't even started this conversation in the first place. You bit the inside of your cheek as you cracked your knuckles out of apprehension.

You felt his piercing gaze sticking upon your forehead, yet you rejected to meet with his gaze until you found something to say that didn't make you look, perhaps, desperate.

"It just gets lonely in this side of the prison." You uttered, finally lifting your head to see him buckling his jeans. You had expressed this countless times in conversations with a different context. Rick had decided to put you in a cellblock away from the others when you first joined them and he didn't change his decision ever since.

"Gon' ask me ta snuggle, too?" He quipped, a subtle sly smirk played on the corner of his lips. He tapped on his pockets as he scanned the small cell for his belongings that he might've dropped.

A sense of indignity overwhelmed you, leaving you feeling overstimulated. You couldn't grumble. He wasn't a boyfriend that owed you courtesy after screwing your brains out. He wasn't someone like that after all. Nonetheless, you loathed at the thought of a huge difference between men and women. How insensitive they could be, how insensitive he could be.

You were very well aware of your relationship, you'd both made it clear to not turn this into anything it wasn't. However, you couldn't resist the longing yearning in your heart.

"Jerk." You simply said as you turned your back to him. You placed your hands under the pillow, resting your head on it. All those thoughts, yet "jerk" was the only thing you made it through your lips. You locked your eyes on the shabby wall, slowly breathing as all you were hearing was his movements behind you. He was so dazed that he couldn't comprehend you nor your course of actions.

"Got'a get sum' shit done in the mornin'." He spoke to himself as he was wearing his leather boots.

"Ya know, with Glenn n' Rick." He added followed by his grunts as he leaned forward to tie his bootlaces.

"The sun shines on this side of the prison, too. You know?" You uttered quietly. Your tone must've caugh his attention as he stopped tying his laces and leaned back on the chair bit by bit. He sighed as he rested his hands on his knees.

"What the hell 's dis all 'bout?" He spoke low with an irritated tone. He scowled at not getting an answer from you.

You wrapped your hands around you, staring at him with softly quaking brows. He stood there with a clenched jaw, eyeing you with squinted eyes.

"Now ya dun' talk?" He spat, chewing his bottom lip as he grabbed his jacket on the bedside table.

"Ya damn well kno' how ta kill a good night." He scoffed derisively, hearing a exasperated sigh from you.

He turned his head to you, giving you a spine-chilling glare.

"Don't ya?" His voice grew taller as you observed the vein throbbing on his neck.

"Keep it down." You exclaimed, shifting your position on the bed in a rush. The bed sank under the weight of your knees as you incompetently tried to cover yourself with the sheets.

His eyes flicked through your bare body for a brief moment as he forced himself to look you in the eyes. You felt subjected to his deviant gaze, a sense of shame flooding your every cell.

"Nah." He firmly uttered.

"Rick threw ya in dis cellblock for a reason." His tone above a whisper.

" 'Cuz ya stir up sum' drama."

"All the damn time."

"Dun' miss a chance, like clockwork."

He locked his eyes on yours. Dark shadows roaming his face. Your face got hot as you had to wait to process his words, what they could've meant.

"Those joints have caused you a mental block." You hissed, not understanding even a bit why he would've say something like that.

"Fuck off." You shrugged your shoulders as you threw your body on the bed, leering at the ceiling.

"It ain't tha'." He uttered, you could sense him leaning against the wall.

"Then what? All this because I asked you to sleep with me?" Your hands met over your chest, crossed. You could hear his shallow breaths, contemplating the best thing to say. You knew he'd fail. A moment passed as neither of you spoke. He took a deep breath

" 'S cuz ya wanna go for childish fantasies." He grunted.

"Like 's sum' kinda game." He spoke, one could sense the palpable thickness of weariness in his voice. It was like he had questioned it a thousand time before you even brought it up. His heavy words lingered in the air, unraveling all the things he never even told you. You could sense it.

"It isn't." You abruptly begged. You needed him to know that you understood his way of seeings things, his way of seeing you. You knew you shouldn't corner him. You didn't.

"Forget it." He huffed with exhaustion as he left the cell.

"Night." You mumbled, knowing he didn't even hear you. You didn't even bother to get up and grab your clothes lying on the floor as you were nothing but flabbergasted. Your eyes were glued to the ceiling, hearing the cicadas singing outside of the prison.

A tear rolled down to your temple and your hand shifted to the side of your face reflexively. You sniffed your nose and shook your head in apace. You got up slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed fully naked. You sticked your eyes to the wall infront of you, fearsome of even uttering a word to yourself in this godforsaken cellblock.

You reached your hand to the panties he threw to the floor as all you could hear was muffled conversations from people on watch. You exhaled, the futile argument which broke out of nonsense didn't support your brain to not grow more lethargic thanks to the joints.

The world around you started to spin, leaving you out of kilter as you had to screw your eyes shut. You wore your bra and as you were done with clasping it, you drank what felt like a gallon of water.

You topped it with a dirty t-shirt and left your body uncovered to the humid of the south on your bed.

What did he think? That you were gonna be just fine with just fucking. How long before you started to feel things, that you wanted more.

You blamed yourself, too soon you thought. Maybe it wasn't. There was no way to know.

You woke up to the sun breaking through your eyelids. You fell asleep to overthinking hence the penetrating headache. You swallowed dryily as you tossed your body to the water bottle next to you and gulped it down agressively to a point where it dripped down your neck to the floor.

You spent your day within the fences of the prison casually, helping people run errands and talking about the run three of the solid men in your group went.

You were in the hall where you kept your food in, cleaning your pistol and weapons so that they're more handy. You furrowed due to your focus on the weapons when you heard a few sighs out of relief drawing near to the hall.

You lifted your head, awating to see who it was with your growing curiousity. Your face loosened at the sight of Daryl and lowered it to your weapons once again, exhaling subtly.

He put his crossbow and poncho on the table, fixating his eyes at you. You wrinkled your forehead, trying to ignore his existence but you were only growing to be distracted even more, with him standing there and observing you.

You suddenly lifted your gaze, exhaling exasperatedly with your hands sagging between your knees. Dirty rags and utensils accumulating a thick layer of dirt on your hands.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, sighing dramatically.

"...What?" You huffed, wishing nothing but to be left alone.

" 'M sorry." He muttered under his breath, making it impossible to be heard.

"You're what?" You let out a frustrated growl with his fancy words.

" 'Bout last night." He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, concealing every bit of an emotion peeking on the way.

"What about it?" You forced a downward smirk, trying to seem cool.

"C'mon." He simply said, looking rather bewildered with you. He looked as if he didn't know where to put his hands or what to do with his body.

"Your fine." You huffed, focusing on the weapons.

"I's bein' a dick 's all." He begged, taking a step towards you.

"Yeah you were." You scoffed tauntingly, not looking at his direction. You observed his boots and exhausted steps drawing towards you as you maintained your focus on the dirty rag in your hand.

"Ya kno' I'ma set things right." He was so near you that you had to raise your head to look at him. You were sitting on the frontstep of smaller cellar in the hall, he looked down at you. Your eyes filled with a flamey look as he stayed put.

"Per usual." You forced a sham smile, wishing he'd sense the sarcasm in your tone.

Seeing that he wasn't getting out of the way, you instantly got up as you rolled your eyes. You leered at him.

"Will you please get out of my way?" You hissed, maintaining a stern eye contact like a rock.

He remained silent without blinking.

"Dun' do dis." He mumbled.

You felt heat rising to your head, slowly gritting your teeth.

"So now it's my fault?" You barked between your heaving chest. You digged your nails into your palm, your face getting redder each second.

He remained silent once again as he placed his burly left hand to your waist, burying his forehead on your shoulder. As you were at the brink of pushing his body, hands softly grabbing him by the shoulders.

"A herd nearly took us out today." He breathed against your skin.

Your hand fell loose down his body as your eyes widened and you let out a soft sigh. His hair tickled under your chin as you felt him breathing shallowly against your skin. Your eyes fixated on the entrance gate as you didn't know what to say or do.

You felt your eyes twitching along with your bottom lip as his hot breaths send shivers down your spine, your body flooding with goosebumps.

"Almost got Rick." He added after a few second that felt like a decade.

"I'm sorry. I- I-" You made it out through a shaky voice as he lifted his head, his hand still gripping your waist.

"Ain't yer fault." He slowly ambled toward the table where he left his crossbow on.

"Jus' made me get mah head al' together." He spoke as if there was no one in the hall. He slunged his crossbow on his body and rubbed his face as he let out a frustrated sigh.

"There ain't no reason ta be a damn douchebag." He added, eyeballing you as he placed his hands on his hips.

You were left with thousands of feelings, thoughts lining in your head leaving you stay put like a statue with no form of life whatsoever. Your brows were raised, lip bottom still trembling yet you managed a hold on it. He threw his poncho on his shoulder as he got close to the hall gate.

"Come to my cell tonight." You insisted with soulful, intense eyes right before he left.

You saw him nodding his head discreetly as he chewed on his bottom lip.

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loviatarsluv · 4 months

Note

If you’re still taking writing prompts, may I request Halsin comforting the reader who gets bad anxiety about going to sleep?

ahhh this is so sweet and definitely something I think about constantly, imagine curling up in Halsin’s lap and him holding you and comforting you im going to scream!!!!!!!!

ty for this prompt, I needed it 😭

Halsin x gn!reader/tav 🩷

rating: sfw (very soft and fluffy and sweet)

Sleep has never come very easily to you. And the few times it did, it was restless - filled from start to finish with nightmares that always inevitably woke you up in the middle of the night, clutching onto your bedroll, chest heaving and eyes streaked with tears.

You’d been able to hide it from the others for the most part, but Halsin noticed a few nights ago while on night watch, when you lurched out of your bedroll, silently sobbing. He watched you as you tried to calm yourself, burying your head in your hands and curling your knees to your chest. He wanted so badly to comfort you then, but he didn’t wish to make you uncomfortable in his efforts. So he silently watched you until you finally settled back into your bedroll, and your eyes closed once again for the night.

The next night, you noticed he’d been lingering close to you all evening, periodically asking you if you needed any help with anything, even offering you a cup of the tea that he’d brewed, bringing it to you with a warm smile that made your heart skip a beat.

He towers over you as you sit on a log next to the campfire, watching the flames lick at the night air and the smoke swirl and try to find shapes in it. You almost gawk at his size and stature, despite having already spent a considerable amount of time with him - you’d think you’d be used to it by now.

You smiled and took the cup gratefully, your fingers brushing against his as you took it from him.

“Thank you.”

His smile softens, and he brings a hand up to brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

“No need. It should help you sleep, we must take all the rest we can before morning.” He says, resting his hand on your cheek - his warm palms feel like a beam of sunlight.

Your face falls.

“Y-yeah. Right.” You reply, your voice meek and small as your eyes fall to the cup in your hands, staring at your reflection in the tea.

Halsin notices your demeanor shift, his brows softening as he kneels in front of you.

He holds your chin between his thumb and his index finger, guiding your face up so your eyes meet.

“What is troubling you? Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asks, his expression outwardly calm but his light eyes flicker with concern.

Your body tenses, and you feel your eyes start to sting with tears that you can’t shed. You shake your head, and force another weak smile.

“I’m okay, really. Nothing dire or important. Thank you.”

You feel a tightness in your chest - you wanted so badly to talk to someone about this, you knew that you likely needed to, but for some reason the words just wouldn’t come out, the taste of them bitter on your tongue. It wasn’t out of fear of Halsin judging you, as you knew he was the last person in the realm that would judge you for such a thing or probably most things. He had a true heart of gold.

Part of you just wanted to preserve the image of you that he had in his mind - strong and fearless and unbreakable. It was unbecoming of a leader to be wrecked over something as simple as nightmares.

“It is important to me, if it is important enough for you to lose sleep over. But, if you are not ready to talk about it, I shall be here when you are ready.” He says simply, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes and savor his touch, still feeling his lips burning on your skin even after he pulls away.

He turns to walk away, and you grab his arm to stop him.

“Halsin?”

He turns, his scarred face glowing in the orange light of the fire, his eyes reflecting the flames. “Yes, my heart?”

“I’m so happy you joined us. Thank you.”

His eyes soften more than you’ve ever seen, almost resembling those of a puppy whose just been adopted.

“As am I.”

You give his arm a gentle squeeze before letting go, and watch him lumber back to his own tent, sitting just outside of it and fixing his gaze back on you. He watched you as if he were ready to leap in front of an arrow for you, as if he were ready to fight to the death for you. Your cheeks heat under his stare, and you look back down at your tea.

Just drink it. You need to sleep. He made it for you, just drink it.

You take a big sip, the warm liquid heating you as it goes down your throat and it tastes of chamomile and honey. You smile, as you remember Halsin telling you of his sweet tooth, and how you teased him about being a bear that loves honey.

The tea helps you ease your nerves just enough to finally let yourself feel tired enough to seek your bedroll and lay down, slowly drifting off to sleep.

You only sleep for a few hours, every second of it plagued by your usual nightmares - flashes of bloody battles and mind flayers and everyone you care for either hurt or dying. Just as an arrow hits you in your dream, you wake with a start, lurching out of your bedroll, gasping and clawing at your blanket.

Your eyes burn with previously unshed tears, now falling in a full torrential downpour. You bring your knees to your chest and just sob, unable to control or care about your volume as every sob racks through your body like a tidal wave.

You don’t notice Halsin approaching you before you feel his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his lap, cradling you and shushing you until your breathing calms.

“S-sorry…” you sob into his chest, gripping the fabric of his nightclothes for dear life.

He shakes his head, then rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Do not apologize. You are not made of steel. You are made of flesh and blood, and a beating heart. You are made to feel.”

You sigh, your shoulders still shaking and your hands and voice trembling as you speak. “I’m just so exhausted… and I can’t even find respite in sleeping.”

He tightens his arms around you, tilting his head so that his cheek presses to your scalp. “Would it help to have someone to keep you company? I can stay here beside you, if you desire.”

You nod, your breathing finally slows and your body starts to settle. “Please.”

He scoots aside into your bedroll with you as you cling to him, refusing to let him go and let go of the bliss that is being enveloped in his embrace. He grabs your blanket, pulling it so that it covers you, tucking it in between the two of you so it’ll stay.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, his large hands gently rubbing your arm and leg.

You nod, and snuggle into his chest.

“Could you talk to me? Like… tell me a story, or something,”

You don’t see it but you can feel the smile radiating off of him as he lets out a contented breath, then places a kiss to the top of your head.

“Of course.”

He begins to tell you of his time with Thaniel all those centuries ago, of their adventures in the forest and describing the serenity of being wrapped in nature’s embrace. He tells you of the times he was in wild shape and got mistaken by other bears as a true bear, and how he acquired the large scar on his face. You listen to the steady beat of his heart and the gentle rumbling in his chest as he speaks and it’s infinitely more effective than even a lullaby is to lull a baby to sleep.

Your eyes slowly close and you drift back to sleep, this time, rather than horrific nightmares, you dream of a calm and peaceful clearing, the wet grass tickling your bare feet as you walk - and you see him, waiting near the water, hand outstretched and beckoning you. You smile in your sleep.

He looks down at you, watching you as you slumber, his heart pounding as he runs his thumb along your cheek. He would cherish this moment of seeing you in pure bliss, and cherish the thought of him having given it to you. He’d give you the moon and the stars if he could, he thinks.

god I am unwell I love him so much halsin snuggles would fix me I think

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cozymoko · 9 months

Note

hello:)) could you maybe do a yandere kaname kuran with another pure blood girl? the girl could be a pretty inexperienced vampire, maybe she was kept as a human for safety kinda like yuki.. change around as you like!! thank you☺️☺️

if possible maybe even a little spicy 😏😏

YANDERE! KANAME W/ A PUREBLOOD READER — 🩸

Pairing: Yandere! Kaname Kuran x new pureblood! reader

Note: Yesss, ofc!

Format: Headcanons; 2nd person

WARNING(S): yandere themes, slightly suggestive (bad)

THE COLLAPSE OF many pureblood families had unfortunately not been uncommon. Yours, my dear, happened to be the unfortunate choice. And with their destruction went your title. You had been forced to live as a human, without a memory to your name. All for the sake of your being, a new bloodline. It felt surreal, like a dream. A dream you had no choice but to come to terms with.

Luckily (or not) for you, a certain Kuran was determined to revive your former self. The real one he had come to adore. Hah, it's safe to say you have a very extensive past with each other.

Though he admits, your parents did quite an extraordinary job at hiding your whereabouts. Not even your average pure blood was guaranteed success in their searches for you. However, Kaname is no ordinary pure blood; oh heavens no! He is the Kaname Kuran, a rather selfish and greedy man when it comes to those he holds dear to him.

You happen to be one of the few. How lovely~!

Kaname reaches out and cups your cheeks in his palms. He savored the warmth of your skin, for it was the last time he would feel it. The gentle flushing of your cheeks had gnawed away at his last ounce of composure. Truthfully, it wasn't in his best interest to ravish you, though it was tempting. It would simply have to wait.

He almost felt guilty for snatching it all away from you. The subtle beauty of being a human, living your life as anything bus immortal, passing on with those you held close. Ahem — almost.

“[Name],” The man cooed. “Do you trust me?” You blinked, resisting the urge to squirm under his watchful gaze. He was a patient man, though not when it came to you.

Even having you beneath him for hours on end had not been enough to quench his thirst. Even now, he awaited your answer like a loyal dog, itching for your affections.

“Y...yes.”

Your hesitancy didn't go unnoticed, not that it mattered anyways. Your skin went soft against the chill of his lips, it was definitely something you had to get used to. Kaname slowly nipped at your skin, lavishing it in wet, hot kisses.

He held your hand tight in one hand, fingers interlocked into one; whilst the other tucked loose strands from your sight. Gently stripping you of the silks that concealed your skin, allowing your blood to bleed through its sheer fabric.

“Let me know if it hurts, [Name].”

HE WAS QUICK to wed you after your transformation.

However, he’ll keep it a secret if you happen to attend the academy. There's no doubt that you’ll be transferred to the night class to live alongside him and the others. Though he tries so hard to hide it, he’s a possessive man at heart. Kaname in no way views you as an object, and yet he wishes to own your entire being.

Under no circumstances will you take blood from another man - or anyone for that matter. If you do, he’s quick to wipe them from your sight. You should never have to rely on someone who isn't him. Just the thought drives him insane.

Isolated and subjected to hours of needles, torturous thoughts of the world around you. The world you had once embraced in your mortal body. It's a shame what love does to a person. It's laughable, truly. You just happened to be one of the lucky ones to get to finally understand what hell feels like...

Im intrigued; wont you tell me a little, dear~?

Soft tears spilled from your puffy eyes for what seemed to be endless. They were warm, something your skin no longer was. You had tried not to let your sorrows consume you, but today, they’d bested you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you peer out one of the many windows that stretched along the Kuran manor. Well, your manor. And yet it provided you little comfort. “What’s bothering you so much, dear?”

Instinctively, you reach out, allowing the man to scoop you into his lean arms. You were a fool, your mother would scold you. How could you ever allow a Kuran to woo you so; to take away the mortal life you were gifted? But you couldn’t help it, he was all you had. Kaname was the only one who kept you warm at night.

Kaname was the only reminder of your old life.

Kaname was the only one you could trust.

Kaname —

“I’m sorry…” Kaname murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “I truly am {Name}. Please, dry your tears.”

Sorry? Yes, that he was. Although not for the reasons you’re thinking dearest. He’s a Kuran after all; the man is bound to be selfish! Kaname is so, oh so very sorry. He hates seeing you cry…but, he hates the thought of losing you much more.

#—🍁#x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x y/n #kaname kuran x reader #yandere hedacanons #kaname kuran #vampire knight headcanons #vampire knight

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jacaerysgf · 10 months

Text

request: jacerys x maid!reader | reader has been working for them for a long while and jace has had a little crush on her since then. (also rhaenyra shipping them on the low would be so sweet)

tags: nontarg!reader, implied slightly older reader, mostly jacaerys pov, no use of y/n, not proofread, i think that's it?

w.c | 2.2k

a/n: i am back! so sorry for being inactive i am so happy to be able to write again i have missed you guys, getting through requests now, but it will probably take me awhile to get to the scream requests since im really unmotived to write for it but i missed writing for hotd so here you go, i hope you guys enjoy!

the first time he had ever spotted you was when he was eight. you had been assigned to be helaena personal maid. he had been standing in the courtyard preparing for another sword fighting lesson. he notices out of the corner of his eye aegon lifting his head before aegon mumbled under his breath and curse as he shakes his head bring his head back down. jacaerys looks up to see heleana, knowing of the recent betrothal and aegons distaste at the idea of course he would have a reaction like that. his eyes drifted over to the girl standing besides helaena and he felt a sudden sensation of butterflies flow into his stomach.

Curiously he picks it up and opens, It feels wrong of me to do this. Princess Heleena just recently taught me how to write and the first thing I felt I needed to do was write something to you. I hope you do not laugh. I hope that while I express myself you find it in yourself to listen. My eyes always find their way towards you. I always find myself thinking about you. I feel too embarrassed to write more though my heart yearns too. Forgive me my prince. I shall hope we talk more. With all i have,

He finds himself tracing the sloppy signing of your name at the end of your letter. His head can't make sense of the words you say despite the fact he wants to so badly. He falls back onto his bed and reads over your words over and over again with a fond look on his face, already planning on what he was going to write back. The two of you begin to write more and more letters to each other. It was easier than speaking in person. Things that could not be uttered in person were said over word, the letters grew more and more personal. He felt like he was looking into your soul with every word as you must have felt as well. But then lady Leana had passed and he had to go to driftmark to the funeral though he was more upset about the passing of ser harwin. Before he had left for driftmark you had slipped a letter for him before he had left. He didn't have the energy to open it then, feeling too much grief to read your sweet words. A part of him is glad he didn't because he didn't realize that would be the last he would see of you for many years. They did not return to king's landing which means he did not get to see you. No more letters, no more passing glances, no more you. He stayed in his bed and cried for awhile, he remembers his mother coming in and trying to comfort him but nothing had worked. Even ten years later he still mourned you like you had died, he had managed to get over his sad slump but you still lingered in his mind like a disease he could not cure, an itch he couldn't scratch. He wondered if you thought of him like he had thought of you. Word had come that they had to go back to king's landing. With lucerys position as heir to driftmark being challenged they were expected to return for a trial. While he feels as though he should be sad, he should be angry. His heart leaps with hope that he gets to see the dear maiden that had stolen his heart. He had never opened up your letter from all those years ago, wanting to savor and save what could be your last words to him for a special occasion. He decided that now would be the time, as he sits on his bed with his stuff packed, only minutes until they were set to leave with shaking hands he rips open the letter.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he opens the letter and gasps. My prince, It broke my heart to find out you were leaving. I hope that you have not let your grief consume you, that you shall continue to be happy no matter what. He notices some large splotches of ink as if you had been pressing too hard against the paper in thought. I must tell you this though it is improper. When you return you will never speak to me again. You may never write to me again yet I must say this now. From the day we had locked eyes and my eyes saw you smile you hard earned the key to my heart. You are the chosen one. Hand selected as the owner to the place which you and only you will ever belong. I hope that you do not laugh. I hope that you are not repulsed or you are not hateful. From the day we met I have loved you and I shall think of you always for you are all I yearn for. I shall await your return. I know not how long you will be gone but I will be here, my sweet true love. I am but a low maiden yet you are everything to me as you must be to all. When you return you may choose to ignore this letter. I am more than willing to act as if this letter never existed, I will be the one to turn this letter myself if you wish. Just please, do not punish me by never speaking to me again for I fear my heart will never recover. With all my love, Yours.

The letter shakes vigorously in his hands as teardrops fall onto the page. He must see you. He gets up and rushes towards the yard where the rest of his family awaits where they are boarding to leave. With the letter clutched to his chest he runs through the halls, the only thought going through his mind being you. He carefully, or as carefully as he can with the adrenaline pumping through his veins and the nervous shaking of his hands, folds up the letter and stuffs it into his pocket before continuing to rush towards his dragon. An arm grabs him and he whips his head around ready to curse and scream at whoever it had been before his angry face softens. “My queen.” she cups his cheeks as she frantically looks him over. “Has something happened? Why are you crying, my son?”

He feels himself grow overrun with emotions as he stumbles, unable to answer. Instead he grabs the letter and presents it to her. “My.. she wrote to me.. Her letter I must.. I must..” he cannot find himself. He looks down at the ground as rhaenyra glances over the letter and looks at her son with a heartfelt look. “Do you love her, my boy?” his heart begins to hurt as he begins to think more and more about you as he nods. He lets out a strangled noise as he clutches his chest. “I must see her mother, I must.” He never calls her mother. rhaenyra feels herself overcome with an indescribable feeling as she lets him go. “We shall head out right this moment.” They do. He feels himself riding faster than he ever had. A part of him worries you will not be there. Maids are easily dismissed and rid of in kings landing so his heart hurts as he thinks he has missed you

. They arrive and he finds lucerys is stuck to his side. Despite the fact that all he wished to was run off to find you he knows he must take care of lucerys as well. Walking into the courtyard he's taken back to his childhood, with lucerys eyes locked onto the fight happening jacaerys finds his eyes looking around at the viewers watching from above the courtyard. Suddenly his eyes lock onto a very familiar set of eyes. Yours. You look as gorgeous as you did the day he had last shall you if not more. You were standing in the exact same place you were when he first saw you with a look of shock. He finds himself stumbling away from the crowd to get a better look at you as his heart pounds so loud his ears may begin to ring. You were here. Standing in front of him. He gulps and watches as you quickly rush towards the staircase down to the courtyard. His skin begins to burn as his legs begin to shake. Everything in his body telling him he should run to you. Bring you into his arms. Allow your skin to touch him. Suddenly you are standing in front of him, panting slightly while your eyes dart all over him with surprise. “My prince… you have returned.” He grabs one of your hands in a soft grip, he sees you inhale sharply as he brings your hand to his lips and places a kiss to the back of your hand. his lips burning as he aches to kiss your skin once more. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting, my love.” You gasp before a smile graces your lips and tears fill up in your eyes. “Truly?” He places yet another kiss onto your skin, “More than anything.”

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bright-molina · 1 year

Note

IM BEGGING YOU 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾- CHAD DATING FLUFF PLEASE

a/n HI i think this ended up more as hurt/comfort than fluff so feel free to send this again and i'll make it real fluff next time sdfsdfjh (i want him to hold me so bad) ((this is also terribly unedited i'm so sorry))

sweet nothing

all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

synopsis chad knows you inside and out and knows exactly how to help you when you need it most

warnings maybe only slightly suggestive? idk i mean they're dating and he's in love he can't help it

The soft, rhythmic knocking at your door brought you out of your self induced trance with a start. You knew who it was, of course you did. There was only one person who did that. The only problem was you were currently in the process of avoiding him.

There wasn’t a particular reason you weren’t talking to Chad. You’d been busy was all and the morning turned into the afternoon and then the night and then two nights before you knew it and now it was just weird.

He was persistent though, you’d give him that. Above all else though, Chad simply knew you. Better than he knew himself or anyone else. He knew every single part of you, everything that made you you, inside and out. It was how he knew that the world had gotten away from you again. The only question left was why.

You didn’t say anything at all when Chad walked in, gently shutting the door behind. The only acknowledgement you gave him was the soft flash of a smile before you went back to the video you’d been watching before his appearance.

A pout formed on Chad’s face when he saw you. Something was up. And he was determined to get to the bottom of it. “Hi sweetheart.”

That caught your attention. Your eyes shifted to him again and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew he had you in the palm of his hand already. Before you knew it he was leaning over you, supporting himself on one arm as he looked into your eyes after pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Chad couldn’t help but watch the way your eyes flashed back and forth. He let you stare at him for as long as you wanted, knowing you were satisfied when you finally looked him in the eyes again and whispered a soft “Hi.”

“Good girl,” The praise slipped past his lips and he leaned down to kiss you for real this time. He moved deliberately slow, taking his time as he savored the feeling of you for the first time in days. He drank in the sight of you one last time before looking at you again. “How’re you feeling?”

“‘M fine.”

You were lying. You knew he could tell. Maybe it was the stress of the last few days. Maybe it was the intensity with which Chad was looking at you. Or maybe you had just really missed him. Either way, you had no hesitation whatsoever listening to him when he told you to sit up.

“Come on,” He took your hands and pulled you out of your bed, setting them on his chest before sliding his own down to snake around your waist to support you. He gave you a once over, taking in every detail of yours for several moments. The clothes you’d worn to classes earlier. The creases in them from laying for so long. The slow blinking of your eyes as you fidgeted while waiting for him to say something. He kissed you again, a silent reassurance that he was right there. “You wanna tell me what’s stressing you out?”

You thought and Chad waited. He waited until he saw the tears pricking in the corner of your eyes and you looked down to avoid seeing the way he pouted and looked at you with that concerned look. Then you felt his hands on your cheeks. His thumbs wiped away the tears that had fallen and he held you like that for a moment, waiting again.

“I -” Your voice cracked and he shushed you gently, touching his forehead to yours in an attempt to ease you a little bit more. The movements you made were involuntary. You scrunched the fabric of his sweater in your hands to ground yourself, needing to physically feel him there beside you. After a few more moments it worked. “I don’t know. Everything?”

He hugged you. Tightly. Every now and then he’d kiss the top of your head or squeeze you a little harder but he didn’t let up until he felt the tension release from your body. That was when he spoke again. “Can I try helping you out a little, sweetheart?”

For a moment you forgot how to speak. All you could think about was how much you loved having Chad there. How for the first time in days you knew you wouldn’t have to sit alone with your own thoughts. And then you finally nodded.

Not a second later Chad was unwinding his body from yours and tugging at the hem of your shirt. You watched him carefully, not fully processing a single word that he was saying. His movements were slow, gentle as he undressed you, stopping every now and then to kiss any part of you he could reach.

Your eyes stayed on him as he took off the sweater he was wearing, slipping it over your head instead. “Better?” The only answer you gave him was a quiet hum and a small nod. “Good. Now come here.”

Chad sat down in the spot you’d been laying in moments before and pulled you into his lap in a single swift movement. Your breath hitched in your throat when his hands started running up and down your sides, almost immediately hitching the sweater around your waist. You shivered as his hands wandered. Up your back to your shoulders. Back down your sides. Across your thighs.

It wasn’t until he leaned forward, pressing languid kisses across your jaw and down your neck, that you let out a content, finally relaxed sigh.

“There you go,” You could feel Chad’s smile on your skin. “Relax for me, sweetheart.”

His hands left your bare skin and suddenly you felt cold without them. Your own movements were almost instinctual as you wrapped one of your arm around his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him, and used the other one to lead one of his hands back to you.

“What is it?” He tried his hardest to hold back a smile. You looked lovesick. You were lovesick. He was satisfied with that fact alone. He grew even more satisfied when you mumbled in protest and he watched as your face flushed and you buried your head in his shoulder. He wasn’t having it. “Look at me.”

Everything else you’d felt, every worry and fear and intrusive thought in your mind, went away the second Chad’s free hand moved to the base of your throat. His hold wasn’t tight by any means, just enough pressure to get you to meet his eyes again, but it still made you gasp a little bit.

“Hey,” He lost all the thoughts in his head when he looked at you. At the way your eyes were wide and glinting and at how at peace you looked. Worlds different than when he’d found you. “You’re so pretty you know that?” He couldn’t help himself. He pulled you forward with the hold he still had on you and smiled against your lips as he kissed you, a little deeper this time. “Pretty girl.”

“I love you.” You hadn’t even thought about saying the words, they’d escaped you outside of your own volition. All you knew was that right there, sitting on Chad’s lap with him holding you close, you felt okay again. And that was enough. So you said it again hoping he could read between the lines of what you were thinking. “I love you.”

“I know,” Chad smiled and dropped his hand, returning it to its original place on your bare skin underneath his sweater. “I love you too.”

He fell backwards on the bed then, pulling you down with him as easily as he had before. He stayed there with you, holding you and whispering little affirmations in your ear, for minutes and then hours, until you’d drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Once you were finally out he tightened his arms around you once, positive that this right here was the best feeling he’d ever experienced, before drifting off after you.

#chad meeks martin #scream 6 #scream 5 #scream vi #chad meeks martin x reader #scream #scream v #scream 2022 #scream x reader #scream fanfic #scream imagine #chad meeks martin imagine #god i know i'm missing tags

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f1-giuki · 11 months

Note

For the Forced Proximity promt: — “we never speak of this again, do you hear?”

Hi darling! Sorry for the extremely delayed answer, i am shit at managing time... But!! I managed to write the prompt in time for the end of the Austrain GP! And it's a bit long, 1.7k words sjjsjsjdjd... hope im forgiven😭💖😭💖

It has some nsfw action in a broom closet in Austria, hope you like thissss👀

Austria was the home of many contrasting feelings for Charles Leclerc.

He nearly got his first race win there in the big guys league (once he'd say Max stole from him his first win, but he's over that now, it's funny to look at his own face on the podium in 2019, all constipated and full of rage…), he pulled some shit on Sebastian a few years back, he went through hell and back in his red tractor, and now, in the year of the Lord 2022, he's savoring the sweet sweet taste of champagne on the highest step of the podium (not without some issues, let's be clear, the goddess of bad luck always looks over him).

His left foot keeps on twitching after he spent the last few laps pushing like a maniac on the brake pedal when he found out that the throttle was stuck open at 30% whatever he did, but he's enjoying the contrast of the cold champagne and the hot sun on his skin, he will complain later on the debrief with his team, he has time before he can mentally prepare to hear whatever nonsense Binotto usually talks about.

He's ecstatic, he's had an amazing battle with Max, one of the good ones, those that Arthur, his brother, defines as niquer sur la piste, fucking on track.

Charles shakes his head as he keeps on spraying champagne all over his team underneath the podium when he feels someone spraying him with the force of an oceanic wave. He hears an amused laugh, an happy laugh, Max's laugh, before getting drowned once again, Max soaking the back of his racing suit and his neck with precision and a stupidly fond grin.

Charles closes his eyes and starts spraying Max weakly, trying to clean up his eyes a little. He tries to protest but he can only manage to shoot a fond look at the Dutchman and some stupid noise comes up from his throat. Weak idiot.

Lewis looks at them, a mixture of intrigue and embarrassment dances on his face, a mixture that tips dangerously towards the I am going to plot something for you two you can't even imagine…

Max and Charles keep on dancing around each other, the Dutchman vibrates when he steps next to Charles for the official podium picture. Lewis can't look anywhere but at the point where Max is squeezing Charles’s waist so hard. The Monegasque has a content dimpled smile on his lips. Happy and merry.

They wave around for a while and they get back inside, heading towards the press conference room. It's a trip, across various buildings that usually makes a nice walk, but for Lewis those ten minutes are atrocious torture.

He's been left third wheeling with the two idiots and their strange sexual tension. Max keeps on talking with Charles, getting way too close to him than a normal person explaining turn 10 should, but Charles doesn't seem to mind, he walks funnily around, nearly squeezed against a wall by the Dutchman's body, but careful not to step on Max's feet. He can't put even half an inch of distance between them.

Pathetic, Lewis thinks. For the first time in his life Lewis wishes he came fourth and avoided a podium.

It's painful to look at Charles staring at Max's lips and wetting his own with the tip of his tongue every ten seconds, it's even more painful to see Max get all touchy with Charles, a tap in the shoulder, a little touch on his waist or a squeeze of his hand.

The worst thing is that they're both painfully oblivious to what's happening. Aliens in their own bodies. This makes Lewis mad. Max precariously balances his trophy and the bottle of Champagne in one hand as he keeps on gesturing things to Charles with his free hand.

Pathetic, at least I had the guts to kiss Nico in a broom closet, Lewis thinks.

That's when it clicks.

Lewis Hamilton has walked on the ugly carpet from the podium to the conference room enough times to remember that there is a broom closet on the left, twenty steps ahead of them. He looks around, nobody is coming, there's no FIA officials, no journalists, no photographers or team members. Lewis laughs under his breath. Max and Charles still pay him no mind. He overtakes them, walking a bit faster, and opens the door of the closet. He gets lucky the keys are inserted in the keyhole.

"This way, guys, we'll get there quicker," he says and Max and Charles follow his words, too engrossed in their conversation to realise what Lewis is doing.

"Have fun, boys, see you in fifteen-ish minutes or so!" Lewis says when they're inside, before turning the light on and closing the door, locking it from the outside.

Max and Charles stop talking. The Monegasque look at the other confused before realising what is going on.

"He locked us in a broom closet! Mate, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Max asks, putting the trophy and the bottle of champagne on the ground to bang on the door with his palms.

"I'm doing myself a favour, fuck it off before I have to endure more third-wheeling, I'm not Checo," Lewis says, he's on the defensive side.

"We are not together!" Charles splutters and Max passes his hands over his face.

"Well, pride month ended a few weeks ago, you're still on time for new discoveries, bye bye!" Lewis says and walks away.

Charles lowers his trophy too and takes a big gulp of champagne. When in Rome… Max looks at him and blushes. The ugly yellowish light in the closet is too close to Max's head, heating his black Pirelli cap. The problem is not the lighting per se, the problem is that the Dutchman's shadow completely engulfs Charles, and their little height difference feels multiplied by a thousand.

Max gulps down loudly. He wants, he's been wanting all weekend. He's not been subtle at all, especially on the podium, he's been pretty gay while Bizet's overture de Carmen was playing. But Charles, naïve Charles, didn't tell him anything, he just looked at him with those happy green eyes.

"What?" The Monegasque asks, tilting his head to the side, squinting a bit because of how harsh the light is on his eyes.

Max shakes his head. Shut up, Max Emilian Verstappen, don't you dare talk! If you talk there's no way you'll get out of this with your sanity intact, he thinks.

"You were definitely going to say something," Charles mumbles, touching Max's chest with his index finger, keeping it there.

"Are you drunk?" Max asks.

"No? Are you?"

"This is not a clever answer,"

"Yours wasn't a clever question, Max," Charles says, wiggling his brows.

Max wants to bang his head against the wall.

"Please, don't, don't do this to me," Max says.

"Doing what?" Charles whispers, staring at Max's blue eyes.

"You know what,"

"Oh, c'mon Max, Max I'm just honest Verstappen, be direct with me,"

"What? You, what do you mean?" Max asks.

"You're not the only one feeling this…" Charles whispers, tangling his hands behind Max's neck.

"Rot op Charles," Fuck you Charles, Max whispers before kissing Charles avidly.

Charles’s hands tangle in between his hair, pushing him close to his mouth. The Monegasque whimpers impatiently and Max kisses him, taking care of savoring Charles and the lingering champagne taste in his mouth. He may have a champagne kink.

"You are insufferable," Max moans as Charles takes his lower lip between his teeth. He lets it go slowly, driving Max mad.

"Tell me about it," Charles says, his lips nearly touching Max. He keeps Max there by the hold he has on his hair. It's a game Max unfortunately likes to play.

"You take my wins, fuck, my poles, my mental sanity,"

Charles laughs, he latches his mouth on Max's neck, sucking a bruise right on the border between his neck and the fireproofs. Noticeable.

"Pick me up," Charles orders, kissing him again.

Max without thinking twice sets his hands on the Monegasque's legs and lifts him up. Charles latches his legs on Max's waist, groaning when their crotches line up and grind against each other.

"Keep going, baby," Charles whispers in Max's ear, nibbling the lobe.

"Fuck you," Max says, slamming Charles against the wall and grinding into him.

"Hm, that takes time, Max, we don't have it now… Unless you'd like me to fuck you here, while others have the key to this place," Charles whispers, tracing a lazy path of kissed on Max's jaw, making him shiver and falter a bit with his ministrations. Max whimpers.

"Oh… So you have a thing for voyeurism? Is that so?" Charles continues, swallowing Max's answer with his mouth.

Max keeps grinding his painfully hard cock against Charles', not caring if he comes across as desperate or as if he comes in his pants. He's going to clean his race suit and his fireproofs with his cheeks burning with shame, so he might as well take advantage of it.

"Come on, baby, come for me," Charles whispers, clearly affected too.

Max would tease him but he has to concentrate on keeping his moans quiet and not dropping Charles as he comes pathetically in his pants.

Max breathes in Charles’ neck, trying to calm down as Charles whispers sweet nothings in his ear, playing with his hair.

"My life is so fucked right now…" Max whispers and Charles grins before kissing him again, this time softly.

"Welcome to the club, baby" Charles mumbles on Max's lips. The Dutchman smiles.

They hear some fumbling with the door knob but they don't care that much. The post-orgasmic haze… The door slams open and Lewis and Checo look at them. The Mexican looks disgusted.

"Lewis, pinche pendejo, you didn't make the situation any better, look at them, this is going to be a problem for me! Un pinche maldito problema!" Checo shouts.

Max keeps Charles’ legs on his waist, not bothering to take his hands off his ass.

"What the fuck was I supposed to do, Checo?!" Lewis shouts.

"We never speak of this again, do you hear?" Max says to the two men standing in front of the door. Charles keeps on kissing his neck.

"Only if you two avoid eye-fucking every chance you get," Lewis offers.

"We need to talk about things before concluding this contract, non?" Charles says and Max rolls his eyes fondly.

#lestappen #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #lestappen fanfic #lestappen prompt #charles leclerc #max verstappen #f1 rpf #austrian gp 2022

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jnsmeyv · 9 months

Text

"𝐓𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮"

Simon Riley x Reader |Fluff|

The sun has finally started to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow all over Manchester as you stood in your balcony. The gentle breezed ruffled your hair while taking a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of your surroundings. This was your only way of relief, your escape from the chaos of your own life.

You knew you weren't alone on that balcony as you heard familiar footsteps approaching. It was Simon. He stood beside you, his silhouette sharply delineated against the colorful sky. His blue eyes gazed into the distance, and you could sense the weight of his thoughts. Simon was man of a few words, though his actions spoke louder.

"You come here often?" he finally spoke, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

You shrugged, a small smile painted on you lips. "Whenever the world becomes too much."

He nodded in response, his gaze never leaving the view. "I get that."

Once again the two of you stood there for a while, sharing the comfortable silence that you two cherish the most. You and Simon went through so much together, seen the darkest sides of the world, faced so many ups and downs and grew stronger each time. There was this bond between the two of you, unspoken and unbreakable.

As the last traces of daylight fade, you turn to face Simon, eyes meeting each others, and for a moment, you felt like you two were the only people in the world. You reached your hand out to gently hold on to his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

"Hey" you said softly, "you know you can always talk t'me right?"

Simon's jaw tensed slightly, you can see the hurt in his eyes. Simon was a pro at hiding his emotions, but you had learned to read subtle cues that betrayed his own feelings.

"i know" he responded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Its just hard finding the right words."

You softly squeezed his arm "you dont have to find the perfect words. Just tell me and i'll listen."

He hesitated for a moment before letting out a sigh and he finally opened up to you.

Your heart ached for him, for the burdens he carried. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug. He returned the embrace, his grip firm and comforting.

"Simon, your not defined by your past." you whispered your soft reassurance against his ear. "You've saved countless lives, including mine. Your a hero. My hero."

He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours. "And what about you? you faced danger as much as i have."

You smiled, brushing a strand of his hair out of his eyes. "im just a regular person trying to make a difference, but having you by my side makes everything less scary."

Simon's lips curved into a smile, as he reached up to cup your cheeks, thumb brushing against your skin. "You have a way of making even the darkest moments seem brighter."

The atmosphere between the two of you was charged with unspoken words, emotion swirling in the space between your bodies.

When you finally pulled away from the embrace Simon's eye held a mixture of suprise and something else—a vulnerability that he rarely showed. You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had become your anchor in your world full of chaos.

"sometimes," you murmured, "all it takes is one person to remind you that your not alone."

Simon nodded, his hands still resting against your cheeks. "And your the right person for me."

You leaned to his touch, savoring the warmth that he provided with his hands. You two didn't need grand gestures to elaborate confessions; this moment, this connection said it all.

Both of you knew theres still more challenges to come ahead, but as long as you've got each other, there was nothing that could break the two of you.

And at that fleeting moment, as you stood side by side, the weight of the world seems a little lighter. There was a void you didn't know needed filling. And now that you found each other, that void is filled.

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berystraw · 19 days

Text

Love Leaves Scars: Plot Twist of the Century

[L.L.S Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [G.H Masterlist]

Warning: Skye is a warning yall

Pairing: Oc!reader x Grayson Hawthorne

W.C: 2.3k

I observe as the sky is bathed in a soft hue of blue, and the sun emerges from its slumber. The sky is adorned with wisps of clouds and the graceful presence of birds, infusing it with vibrant life and color. A gentle, chilly breeze brushes against my skin, causing a light shiver to ripple through me. I draw my blanket closer, taking solace in its warmth, as I savor each sip of the steaming coffee I have brewed. All the while, my gaze remains fixed upon the ever-changing canvas of the sky, as well as the graceful movements of the birds.

"You're awake quite early," I hear Asnid's morning voice raspily remark. "Good morning," I greet her warmly, setting my mug down on the table of the balcony. Asnid settles into the vacant chair opposite me, reaching out to take a sip from my mug. "From what I recall, you're not one to wake up early, Vers," Asnid remarks. "I found it difficult to sleep last night," I confess, my voice tinged with vulnerability. Sleep has evaded me ever since our arrival here, five days ago.

"Is the bed not providing enough comfort?" Asnid inquires, her concern evident. I assure her that the bed is perfectly adequate. It's simply that the memories I have tried desperately to forget persistently haunt me, even within the realm of my dreams. Ever since I turned twelve, I have been unable to dream at all, and I can't even remember the last time I ever did dream. Yet, sleeping within Hawthorne House has reawakened my ability to dream. Alas, these dreams are far from pleasant—they can rather be described as nightmares.

"Are you nervous about the will reading?" Asnid speculates. "Why would I be nervous about something like that? Im sure Tobias Hawthorne included me in that will for one of his games," I reply. But deep down, is that truly the case?

I turn away from Asnid and fix my gaze upon the captivating vista before us. Hawthorne House, perched upon its expansive estate, commands attention. The forest surrounding us sways in unison with the whims of the wind.My eyes remain on the scene, for a moment, I felt a semblance of peace wash over me. A semblance, but not quite complete.

"We should eat breakfast, Verity," Asnid suggests, rising from her seat. Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from the captivating view, following Asnid downstairs to the dining area. The long table is adorned with an array of breakfast delicacies—varieties of bread, succulent fruits, and a tempting assortment of treats. It is a veritable feast, brimming with flavors that screams sugar rush. "Good morning, Miss Verity and Miss Asnid," one of the maids greets us before departing to the kitchen.

I pull out a chair for Asnid, then take my place beside her. It doesn't take long before the remaining occupants of Hawthorne House begin to trickle into the dining area, joining us for breakfast. However, one person is noticeably absent.

"Where might dearest Grayson be?" Xander inquires, his mouth full of bread. "He left yesterday for some errands and hasn't come back," Nash replies. My eyes meet Nash's, and he raises an eyebrow inquisitively. I simply lower my head, focusing on the food before me. Silence settles upon the room, punctuated only by a small exchange of words.Everything remained silent until...

"I'm home!" a voice rings out, shattering the tranquility.

As Skye Hawthorne enters the dining room, the atmosphere shifts. The three grandchildren momentarily pause their eating before resuming.

"Good morning, boys, did you miss me?" She ask while giving a three of them a half-hearted hugs before her attention turns to me. Her eyes light up, and a sly smirk forms on her lips.

"Verity Rosewood, long time no see, my dear," Skye greets me, approaching with enthusiasm. I rise from my seat and reciprocate the hug she offers. "Oh, how I missed my favorite future daughter-in-law," she remarks, planting a kiss on my cheek. I resume my seat as Skye takes the one beside me.Just great.

Skye then turns her attention to Asnid, "Well, who is this pretty lady over here?" Asnid, taken aback by the question, blushes deeply and introduces herself politely. "I'm Asnid, nice to meet you, Miss Hawthorne," she responds with a sweet smile. Skye attempts to return the gesture, though a fleeting expression of disgust betrays her true feelings. Skye possesses a talent for feigning kindness, concealing her true emotions.

Concerning Grayson's whereabouts, Skye poses the same question she asked her sons earlier. Nash provides the same response he shared with Xander, indicating that Grayson ventured out on errands and has yet to return. Skye then shifts her attention back to me, "How are you, Verity? I've missed you, my dear,"

"I've been doing great, actually," I reply, offering a sweet smile as I continue to enjoy my breakfast. Skye's hand delicately tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, further blurring the boundaries of comfort. Such a sweet but fake act. "Where is Zara? Shouldn't she be here when the will reading starts?" Skye queries, indulging in bread and fruit as she awaits an answer.

After excusing ourselves from the table to give the Hawthorne family their privacy, Asnid and I walk away, leaving the dining room. I can sense Skye's gaze following us until we leave the room.

"Who is that lady?" Asnid asks once we are out of earshot. I reply, "That's Skye Hawthorne, the second-born daughter of Tobias and the mother of the four grandchildren." Asnid murmurs her suspicion, "She seems like bad news."

"She is, so be careful," I warn her. Asnid nods obediently, understanding the potential dangers. We decide to minimize our interactions with the Hawthornes by staying in our room until the will reading commences.

As I assist Asnid in zipping up her dress, she raises a question. "Do you think the Avery girl has arrived by now?" I consider her inquiry and respond, "If she hasn't, it means we'll be staying here even longer until the next scheduled will reading." Asnid then confides, "I kind of like it here." Our eyes meet in the mirror before us. I cannot deny that I share a similar sentimentI couldn't say that I didn't feel the same. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house that haunts you even in your dreams. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house which makes me remember memories I choose to forget. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house where you met your first love.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your stay here, hon," I offer a small smile, which she reciprocates. Words alone would not suffice to convey the depth of my disdain for this place—the unsettling feelings it evokes, the memories it forces me to confront, and the sight of the man I once loved.

Our attention is diverted to the sound of a knock on the door. "Asnid? Verity? You need to come down now," Nash's voice reaches us from the other side. Asnid responds, "We'll be out in a minute!" She places a hairclip in her hair, and I patiently wait as Nash's footsteps fade away.

"I'm done! Let's go!" Asnid exclaims, grabbing my hand as we make our way down the stairs and into the Great Room. As we enter, the room is already filled with people, although the main event has yet to commence. Oren, Tobias's head bodyguard, stands by the wall, strategically positioned to observe the room's exits. The Laughlin family occupies one side of the room, while Zara and her husband engage in conversation with the lawyers, Grayson at their side. Nan sits at the front right of the room, with Xander irritating her incessantly. Skye occupies a solitary seat, and the remaining Hawthorne boys are seated together.

"Let's sit beside them!" Asnid whispers to me with excitement, suggesting that we sit beside the two unfamiliar girls in the wingback chairs. One of the girls had long brown hair while the other had short blue hair. Eagerly, we take the seats beside them. The girls turn their attention to us as we settle in. Asnid takes the initiative, extending her arm and introducing herself. "Hi! I'm Asnid! What's your name?" she asks cheerfully, and both girls shake her hand. The brunette girl introduces herself as Avery, while the one with blue hair is named Libby.

"Oh! You're the girl mentioned in the will too!" Asnid exclaims, pointing out Avery's connection. Avery nods in acknowledgment. "Do you know why? Were you mentioned too or are you related to these people?" Libby asks. "Honestly we're as confused as you are. I'm not mentioned but Verity is," Asnid says before linking her arm with mine2 and reassures them, "We're not related to the Hawthornes, don't worry." I observe as Libby visibly relaxes. "Finally, someone who isn't 'richy rich'," she exhales, prompting giggles from Asnid.

Deciding to engage in further conversation, Asnid moves to sit beside Libby while Avery takes Asnid's previous seat. A"Were you dragged into this as well?" Avery asks. "Yeah, sort of," I chuckled. "Do you have a history with them?" Avery shoots another question. I hesitated to give her a truthful answer but eventually still did. I nodded my head and told her how I used to play with the four Hawthorne grandchildren when we were young.

Avery responds, "Good for you, because I don't." Tobias Hawthorne you sick old man. "Even in death, he likes to play stupid games," I sigh, expressing my frustration. Avery begins to offer a reply, but her words are cut off by one of the lawyers in the room. "Now that everyone is here, it would be wise to start," the lawyer announces, and the three of them position themselves in a triangle formation, signaling the beginning of the proceedings.

The lawyer, whom I recognize as Alisa's father, begins by stating that we are gathered to hear the last will and testament of Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne. He explains that per Mr. Hawthorne's instructions, his colleagues will now distribute letters that he had left for each of us. The other lawyers begin to walk around the room, handing out the assigned letters to each person.

I receive my letter, and I notice that Avery has received hers as well. From the corner of my eye, I see Asnid staring at me with a worried expression. I turn to her and offer an assuring smile. I mouth the words "I'm fine" to her, and she nods, redirecting her attention back to the lawyers. "You may read the letters given to you once the will reading has concluded," The lawyer instructed.

The lawyer proceeds to explain that Tobias had stipulated that all individuals mentioned in his will must be physically present, and we have all fulfilled that requirement. The reading of the will officially commences.

"I, Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne, being of sound body and mind, decree that my worldly possessions, including all monetary and physical assets, be disposed of as follows," Mr. Ortega reads aloud, ensuring that everyone in the room can hear his words.

The room is filled with a palpable tension. Everyone is on the edge of their seats, their hearts pounding against their chests and their breaths held in anticipation. The silence is so profound that the ticking of the clock is audible.

One by one, each person present in the room is given their share of Tobias's fortune and assets. When Skye and Zara receive their share, they engage in a heated sibling dispute, creating a disturbance in the middle of this crucial event. Mr. Ortega intervenes, calming the two down and emphasizing the near impossibility of challenging the will. Now, it is time to address the grandsons.

"To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave..." As Mr. Ortega's voice resonates through the room, the tension reaches its peak. Zara mutters bitterly, "Everything," expressing her discontent with the situation.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee," Mr. Ortega continues.

Another eruption of Hawthorne family drama ensues, triggered by these words. The wealth distribution becomes apparent: the grandsons receive their allotted amounts, the two daughters receive Tobias's belongings and five hundred thousand dollars, Nan receives her daughter's jewelry and a yearly sum of one hundred thousand dollars, Oren is bequeathed a toolbox and three hundred thousand dollars, and a mere one hundred dollars are designated for the Laughlin family. "Please, everyone," Mr. Ortega held up a hand and everyone stopped talking all at once. "Allow me to finish," The room goes silent once again but this time everyone turns to me and Avery sitting beside each other.

"Please, everyone," Mr. Ortega raises his hand, and the room falls silent once again. All eyes turn towards me and Avery, who are seated beside each other. The anticipation hangs heavily in the air.

"The remainder of my estate, including all properties, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs," Mr. Ortega announces. The room fills with a mixture of surprise and astonishment. Libby and Avery's eyes widen at the lawyer's words. I can feel the weight of everyone's gaze upon me, waiting for the rest of the will to be read.

"All remaining monetary assets and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to..."

My heart races uncontrollably, pounding against my chest, clamoring to be set free. The sound of my own heartbeat drowns out all other noise. My ears feel as though they're ringing, overwhelmed by its deafening rhythm. I struggle to draw a breath, feeling as if my lungs are suffocating, desperate for air. Every fiber of my being cries out for help, for relief. I cannot bring myself to meet anyone's gaze, not even Asnid's. In the midst of my distress, I sense Avery taking hold of my hand, offering a small measure of solace. Yet, it is not enough to quell the tumultuous screams and cries echoing within my heart.

"Verity Quinn Rosewood," Mr. Ortega finally utters my name, and the world around me seems to come crashing down.

Taglist: @whysosmugwitch

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ask-captain-gepard · 6 months

Text

INFORMATION

"My name is Gepard Landau, I'm a captain of the Silvermane Guards. If you discover anything suspicious in the city, you can always report it to me."

Rules.

-Nothing NSFW. Mod is a minor. Blood, guts and gore is allowed if you ask.

-Hate and Discrimination is not allowed in the slightest.

-Want to ship something? Ask beforehand. (I will say that I don't do OCs, personal preference, sorry.) This doesn't mean I don't want OC asks, and is just limiting them to being platonic.

-mod lives in EST but has a shit sleep schedule. Be patient with response times. Harrassing mod for responses will result in your asks being ignored.

-YOU CAN JOIN THREADS WITHOUT ASKING. PLEASE DO IT. I LOVE TALKING N MEETING NEW PEOPLE AIDHDJ

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Tags

- Sis and Lynxy. (Stuff referring to Lynx and Serval.)

- Lady Bronya (obvious.)

-That Cunning Thief (sampo koski in general.)

-That cunting thief. (specifically @silly-sampo . im tired of putting both tags akbdidiek)

- Under my Protection. (Belobog, duh.)

- Silvermane Guards (The guards, also duh.)

- Trailblazers. (The Nameless.)

- Who? (Other factions.)

- Gepard Answers (Asks.)

- Falling through Hoyoverse (genshin impact crossovers.)

- moddie (mod. duh. ooc stuff.)

-‐----------------

Headcanons that will be used.

‐--‐--------------

- His Gauntlet is a Prosthetic

- He will lay on top of you depending on who you are. The cat genes are there. (Gepard, Leopard.)

- When he's nervous, he'll touch his amputation scar, or the connection of his prosthetic to his nub.

- In most situations he'll look to Bronya for guidance when she's there, trusting her judgement before his own.

- He savors every meal like it's his last, because it's true. [He is well aware he can die at any time.]

- He's what I call a 'baby gay'. He's only just realized he's gay, and he doesn't know/understand much about being gay.

--------------

my hsr accounts

this one

@ask-serval-landau

@blades-and-spiderlillies

@wildfires-butterfly

@guide-firefly

More may be added later

@dr-golden-ratio

@best-space-pup

@stellarons-vessel (caelus)

masterpost made by one of my pals is right here

(This should've gone up when I made the account in October. Sorry.)

#sis and lynxy #under my protection #moddie #who?#trailblazers #silvermane guards #gepard answers #lady bronya #that cunning thief #falling through hoyoverse #that cunting thief #Gepard finally figures out he's gay. The post

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killinggamebusters · 3 months

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Alright the humors worn out and now I'm gonna roast this anon entire manifesto before blocking them, TW under cut for lots of nastiness and mentions of torture and death threats and abuse, I shouldn't even give them this honor but honestly I want to be able to roast them forever and have something to point back too and also with my memory I'd start to question if this even happened and that's no fun!

"If you fully admitted that you ship abuse as a coping mechanism and DIDN'T glorify Ouma, didn't reblog shit about how "actually he and Gonta were totally good friends, even though Kokichi constantly abused him, drove him to despair and savored every moment of his execution". Kokichi is a subhuman monster and the only person in all fiction that ACTUALLY DESERVES to suffer through Gold Experience Requiem's infinite death loop. You are a disgusting piece of human garbage that fully deserves to die"

Incredibly funny of you to fucking put a jojo reference in you saying about how awful kokichi is, Dio is worse, I am shipping you with the anon who won't stop calling Kaito a rapist on one of my other blogs. Anyways he's a kiddo in a killing game with a murder total of like 2, he did bad things but, like, saying he's the worst character in all of fiction when making a jojo reference is fucking wild, Dio is right there!! Literally kicking dogs!!!!! Kokichi doesn't kick dogs and is thus an inherently better person

"Have you ever heard of a torture called scaphism? Here's the lovely description: "The king decreed that Mithridates should be put to death in boats; which execution is after the following manner: Taking two boats framed exactly to fit and answer each other, they lie down in one of them the malefactor that suffers, upon his back; then, covering it with the other, and so setting them together that the head, hands, and feet of him are left outside, and the rest of his body lies shut up within, they"

Wow you are so bad at actually explaining things within an ask, you could have summed this up in like 15 words, "its where they shut everything but your hands head and feet in a boat" get to the fucking POINT

"hey find his flesh devoured, and swarms of such noisome creatures preying upon and, as it were, growing to his inwards. In this way Mithridates, after suffering for seventeen days, at last expired." This is what you deserve. "Shou Tucker is totes a good father to Nina that loves her so so much and he TOTALLY HAD to turn her into a chimera because he had no other option" that's what you sound like. Kokichi is a worse person than fucking Junko, because at least Junko forced her classmates and"

God you took so many words to say "you should be eaten and suffer for 17 days" who caressss about the history oh my god im bored to TEARS. Also at least Kokichi's plan worked, Shou Tucker is the shittiest alchemist in the series. I'm also not even sure if this method would work, i would simple manage to get loose, i am built different mithridates.

What did this dude even do im curious now, PFF LOOKING IT UP YOU DIDN'T EVEN GET THE DETAILS RIGHT BITCH WHERE'S MY HONEY AND MILK, ITS NOT EVEN A REAL BOAT IT'S HOLLOW LOGS, there's no even real proof this torture even existed god you're bad at this you might as well shut me in an iron maiden , also the guy killed a guy i guess, I don't actually care, but anyway you wouldn't even do it right I'd be fine

"sister into a killing game BECAUSE SHE GENUINELY LOVED THEM and killing them and making them suffer was a way to bring herself as much despair as possible. Kokichi, however, is just a sadist that enjoys everyone's suffering and doesn't even feel despair when others die. Everything he does is for his own amusement, not for ANY altruistic motive. He PURPOSELY drove Gonta to despair just to see him suffer. He made him kill Miu just so he would see Gonta's despair when he's exposed and executed for"

Did she end the world because she loved them? did she have her sister murder an entire middle school out of love? Did she pluck a guys eye out of love and make him eat it out of love? Did she have the entire student council massacred out of love? Junko deserves better don't drag her into this, she wants to be seen as evil and despairing stop woobifying her it's hurting her. Kokichi's motive was survival, and even if you disagree with that, he says multiple times and in his final words how he was lying to himself to survive. However, even if that WASNT TRUE or it was ALL A LIE his death count is once again two whole people, Maki got two people killed out of sadism as well but I don't see you yelling about her. Even if he was the most evil person ever, he again, only got TWO PEOPLE KILLED, that's NOTHING. Even if he was a sadist who only wanted to torment and hurt people, he ain't the mastermind, and he didn't get to actually do a lot of tormenting. Everything you are saying about Kokichi, is just Junko, and you seem to love her. Hypocrite.

"for killing her. He ENJOYED EVERY SINGLE MOMENT of Gonta's suffering and anguish. Kokichi's crying for Gonta was so obviously fake it is sickening. And don't mention the DRS. They flattened Genocide Jack and Tenko's characters into "bYaKuYa!!!111" and "fUk MaLeS!!!!111" and portrayed Junko, Monaca and Kokichi as almost normal people and not the monsters they actually are in canon. So don't even talk to me like this somehow proves that Kokichi would be friends with Gonta outside the killing game."

Buddy who even brought up Danganronpa S? Wasn't me, they don't even have many interactions in DRS, everything I'm talking about here is straight from the base game don't worry. Also Monaca is like 10. You have got to get better at formatting this it's so hard to follow. Even if Kokichi enjoyed all that suffering, Mikan is right there, having her kills actually be about despair, and yet you only focus on Kokichi like this is a unique sin, curious.

"You deserve to rot in the garbage, eaten by maggots. You don't deserve to be treated as a human being, to have human rights. You are a piece of garbage. You deserve to have your bones shattered and left to rot in a garbage container.You are an abuse apologist and a victim blamer.Kokichi just used Gonta as a tool because Gonta's nonexistent social skills, his low self esteem and desire to do ANYTHING to be useful, to finally be able to help his friends made him a perfect target for Kokichi."

I am at MOST an abuse apologist by your logic as I have never once said Gonta deserved to die, just that Gonta made his choice and even afterwards of getting caught he didn't regret it. It's not abuse though, it never was abuse, abuse is a PATTERN of behavior, one incident, two if you count the meet and greet, is not enough to set that pattern in stone. Especially when Gonta already got his revenge for the meet and greet.

While Gonta was the perfect target, it's not abuse, that's not what abuse is. Kokichi flashed Gonta with the light and told him his plan, while he definitely was manipulative, that's not abuse. You're just spouting buzzwords at this point. Also incredibly funny to call ME the abuse apologists when YOU'RE sending me graphic death threats, like buddy, I don't know how to tell you that you're the aggressor here

Kokichi never cared about Gonta.You deserve to die a slow, agonizing death by getting your guts pulled out. Everyone would be happy if you died. Everyone. Your father, your mother, your siblings, you are just a burden for them. They would be really happy if you died.

HA that's so fucking weak, you don't know me or my situation, you don't know my friends. Sorry you have friends who would disown you for shipping something they don't like, my friends enable and care about me. While my parents are incredibly patient and kind with me. Getting my guts pulled out is kinda erotic though can you do it tenderly for me? I mean not like I'd ask you, I know exactly which friend I'd go to if I wanted someone to hold my guts tenderly.

Gonta himself said that he doesn't trust Kokichi anymore after Chapter 2's events. Most likely, he doesn't even consider Kokichi his friend. I don't know where you the idea that they were "FRIENDS UWU" in any way. They weren't. Kokichi's tears for Gonta were clearly COMPLETELY FAKE, only meant to give his evil rant more impact to maake others believe that maybe he did care about Gonta after all only to make his reveal more painful. It very clearly ISN'T genuine in any way.

Boy howdy I love how things are up to interpretation in this series and how people can have rational discussions about how they perceive the same event. Just kidding, you're unhinged! Anyways you can not trust someone but also still care about them Gonta did not want Kokichi to die, Gonta cares about all of his classmates, Gonta cares. To assume otherwise goes against everything Gonta stands for. He's not a toddler, he can have nuance about people. He's a smarter lad then you give him credit for.

Gonta was groomed and manipulated into becoming a murder weapon. He's not to blame for Miu's death AT ALL. Gonta was manipulated. Manipulation isn't just forcing someone to do it with a threat. Kokichi wrongfully convinced him that it was for the better, taking advantage of Gonta's low self-esteem and desperation to help others. You've never been manipulated or abused in your life if you're saying Gonta could've just declined. It's not easy to just decline your abuser. Abusers can pressure you

Not what grooming means in the slightest but thanks for trying. You're just repeating yourself at this point, pathetic. Everyone was desperate that trial, what happened is a tragedy, but to deny Gonta any blame is to deny Gonta any agency he is not a helpless toddler. He is AWARE Kokichi is a liar, he is AWARE of what Kokichi does, and even if he is manipulated, he categorically does not regret as alter ego gonta, he's so sad it happened, but he still thinks its for the best they don't know the truth. Gonta agreed with Kokichi that there is no happy ending with the knowledge of the outside world.

And as for when Gonta says "Don't blame Kokichi anymore", you'd be a complete moron to trust GONTA in this situation. Gonta is THE LEAST VALID PERSON to trust in this case. Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome? Many real-life cases of abuse have similar patterns of victims. While Stockholm syndrome is commonly associated with a hostage or kidnapping situation, it can apply to abusive relationships, when the abuse victim begins to express love for their abuser.

Stockholm Syndrome isn't fucking real, it's a fun trope, but it was not, and never was real. Please do research. It's basically the modern day hysterical woman, oh my god. Even if it was true, that's not how it is even theorized to work, the plan took place over like, less then an hour, that's not enough time for ANYTHING to set in. For what you're theorizing to even have a chance to be true they would have to be locked together in this scheme for DAYS. Please google fawn response as well, you'd have better luck making a point with that.

Gonta says to not blame Kokichi because Gonta knows he made his own choice, and would make it again, and most importantly, he wants everyone to GET ALONG. He doesn't want Kokichi to be hated, he wants everyone happy. This isn't him being "omg kokichi is so special rawrxD" its "im going to die, and all i ever wanted was everyone here happy, so please, don't hate each other"

And then I guess the spam filter or whatever stopped them from sending anymore because that's a weird place to end it. Anyways this was very cathartic for me and I may do a research paper on this in the future.

TLDR; we should like, have kids and see what they think of gonta and ouma that'd be fascinating

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ughdontbeboring · 2 years

Text

Not Mine (blurb)

Andy Barber x woc Reader

Lorie reminded you who’s “Mrs. Barber” and that Andy isn’t yours….but can you be ok with that?

warnings: angst, not sure what else to tag but if im missing something let me know !

sidenote: since the main story did so well in like less then 10 hrs heres a follow up blurb from this story basically a different ending.

not mine

She had made it to the door leading to the lobby of his floor before she found herself turning back around. She ignored the text message pings coming back to back from her iPhone and His assistant as the young woman called to her as she hastily neared his door.

YN pushed the door back open and stepped into the room. Andy and Lorie’s heads snapped in her direction. They were standing on opposite sides of his desk. And by Andy’s body language (which she knew well) she could tell the conversation wasn’t going that well.

YN’s blood was boiling at the sight of Lorie. She was trying to stay civil because this was Andy’s work place but her patience was running thin. If Lorie thought her little remark deflated YN or how she felt about Andy then she was truly mistaken. YN was more then capable of playing this game and reminding a bitch of her place.

Though Andy never talked about it himself YN had over heard their conversations plenty of times and could hear the way which Lorie spoke to him. Rude, degrading and blameful. Everything was Andy’s fault in Lorie’s eyes, no matter how hard Andy tried. No matter how much respect and kindness he showed her, she never returned it.

She continued walking into the office as they both watched her. Andy’s face was confused, she didn’t blame him from the beginning she said she didn’t want anything to do with Lorie or to be around her, mainly because her and Andy were just fuck buddies and their situation had nothing to do with her. Hell she didn’t even know the woman’s name until she heard Andy talking to her one the phone one night.

YN bite her lip at Lorie’s shocked expression at the young woman’s sudden intrusion. If she only knew the things YN and Andy had done and where, she’d really have something to be shocked about. The way Andy always eat her pussy like he was a man on death row savoring his last meal, the way she sucked the soul out of Andy whenever she had his heavy cock in her mouth. The way Andy fucked like it was his only job to please her, his large hard thick cock stretching her out. The stamina of a man half his age.

Lorie was beyond stupid to let Andy go and not try to work things out. Stupid to not fight for Andy. YN decided she wouldn’t be so stupid, even with the doubt creeping in that Andy may not feel the same about her.

“Excuse me! Me and my husband are ta-“

“Mr. Barber! I’m so sorry but I tried to stop her from-“

“Amanda it’s alright, she’s fine” Andy’s loud attorney voice sounded in the room silencing the women.

“Oh ok” she said quietly as YN glared at her before turning back to Andy, who was walking towards her.

Amanda slowly backed towards the door, as Lorie watched Andy and YN like a hawk. Her face red with anger, disbelief and embarrassment at what she was witnessing. She assumed Andy was sleeping with women especially when he went and got an apartment about 8 months ago, he threw around words like “boundaries” and “personal space”, she just assumed it wasn’t serious. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Lorie’s problem was she thought Andy would was her there, no matter how she treated him.

“Hey, you ok?” He asked quietly. His eyes sincere as his hand grabbed her elbow, his thumb gently caressing it, causing her body to start relaxing automatically. Her doubts of Andy’s lack of feelings for her vanishing almost instantly at his display of affection in front of his “wife” and assistant. Her usual confidence was coming back.

There was that look again she couldn’t shake. That look she tried to deny but told her everything she needed to know.

“Andy are you serious-“

“Andy would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” YN asked confidently cutting off Lorie as her eyes never lefts Andy’s surprised one’s.

She knew he wasn’t expecting this, not when they agreed to just be fuck buddies and she never missed the opportunity to remind him. But they couldn’t ignore the pull between them, the chemistry, the admiration.

Walking away moments before and leaving Andy with Lorie made her feel everything instantly. Everything that she had spent months trying to ignore suddenly consumed her.

She wanted more then to be just fucking Andrew Barber.

He pulled her in for a quick passionate kiss. His large hand tilting her head back as his tongue exploring her mouth, Lorie’s gasped could be barely be heard over their groans.

“I’ll see you at 7 Princess” he answered with a small smile when he finally pulled back for air.

YN couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on her face or the butterflies that consumed her stomach.

“It’s a date” she said breathlessly.

She pulled away and started for the door, hardly sparing Lorie a glance while throwing “Take care Lorie” over her shoulder, emphasizing her name.

She be damned if she let Lorie hurt Andy again. She didn’t know everything about Andy or where their relationship would go but she knew he deserved better then contentment disguised as love and a weak head game.

YN planned to turn Andrew Barber’s world upside down in the best way possible.

#Andy Barber x woc Reader #Andy barber x reader #andy barber x yn #Andy barber x you #chris evans #chris Evans x reader #chris Evans x you #chris Evans x yn #andy barber one shot #Ughwrites #ughandy

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dungeonsdragonstdelinquents · 1 year

Text

anderperry fic rec

hi! if youre seeing this, i actually answered this in an ask but i think i accidentally deleted it bc i literally cant find it, so im repost it here. im keeping my intro of my ask just bc i gave some backround about the fics i listed. happy reading!!

Hi thank you for the ask!! Oh goodness my favorite dps fics…I will include in general fics that I liked, but the ones that I have placed an asterisk with are pieces that had me–for lack of a better phrase–crying, screaming, shitting on the floor from how poetic they made me feel. Which really doesn't make much sense, but when i say poetry within me i just mean this strange feeling that is difficult to describe. Also these are all anderperry because i am a basic bitch, so apologies if you were looking for any other pairs! Maybe after finals I will look into some of the other pairs and put together a list for them too :)

(in no particular order)

What We Stay Alive For **** by PiscesVanity on ao3, 18/18 chaps, 66,485 words.

Summary: “Do we get second chances in this life, Todd?” Neil asks him like he expects a negative answer. Todd doesn’t give that to him.

“Yes. we do. I know it.”

“Do you?” Neil grins, playfully elbowing him. “Did you at least wait to take it? That second chance? Until the world was more peaceful? More kind?”

Ten years after the death of Neil Perry, Todd Anderson wakes up with a second chance.

My notes: This incredibly crafted piece of art was the first dead poets fic I ever read. It honestly set the bar for me, for future reads. Also i didn’t have the chance to reread this one because this baby is long as FUCK and as much as I love long fics to read, I have to study for finals today so I can’t right now. I’m like 80% sure this is the fic where they confess by the lake and say something along the lines of “if you feel something even similar to what i feel…” but again i can’t be sure. Either way all I remember is that this fic is fricken good. Just for context, this is a time-traveling fic, but the type of time travel that happens in 13-going-on-30. Todd prays for a second chance on the eve of the 10 year anniversary of Neil’s death and he wakes up in his 17 year old body, on the day that he started school at Hell-ton. I think in general I just love the dead poets fandom because it combines some of my favorite tropes in any form of reading–50s/60s time period, boarding schools, and well…being gay. It is a fix-it so there is some angst, but there is a happy ending. But it will hit hard, especially since it comes close in the end so be wary. When I first started it, I was concerned about my own interest dwindling because the fic was going to cover the entirety of the movie, and since I have issues rereading or rewatching pieces of media when I know the end or the majority of it, I didn’t know if I was going to last. But the author of this stunning work (I know it sounds cheesy BUT IT IS) crafted it in a way that didn’t leave me bored. Even though several lines were pulled from the movie due to it being a time travel fic I still felt involved and captured by the story. It was comforting at the beginning to see how Charlie and Todd took care of each other after Neil’s death, and it was also intriguing to see how Todd almost started where he left off with Neil when he went back in time. He was more open than he had been prior, but eventually had settled back into his ‘old’ personality that he had before his first encounters with the poets.

to be alone with you by wordshakers on ao3, 1/1 chaps, 3,602 words.

Summary: “Thursday evenings were, unequivocally, Neil’s favorite part of the week.

On the surface, the explanation for this was simple enough. It was his opportunity to turn his focus entirely to the topic that made him happiest: Shakespeare. He savored the time he was able to spend sitting out on the dock, overlooking the lake, reading and reciting the words he loved so much.

The other reason–perhaps the more prominent one–Neil wasn’t able to explain quite as easily. In fact, he could hardly admit it to himself. Thursday evenings…they meant being alone with Todd.

An anderperry first kiss fic, set in a near-canon universe of the film (minus the death). Fluffy mutual pining.

My notes: I can’t recall everything about this one because my mind has been scrambled the last few days, but it is fluffy, it is cute, and it has Todd and Neil practicing lines together–what more could you want?

letters to my dearest beloved ****by UniversalSatan on ao3, 4/4 chaps, 34,162 words.

Summary:

“My dearest beloved,

It is with great relief that I finally write to you. I think it doubtful for my words to ever reach your ears, but spare me this chance to lend you a piece of my thoughts–and only a piece, for I must write with caution lest I be discovered.

Neil, amidst his own internal emotional conflict, accidentally stumbles upon letters Todd had been writing in secret to an unknown recipient. Neil (an idiot) continues to intrude on Todd’s privacy by reading each new letter in secret, continuously agitating over their purpose.”

My notes: I’m not 100% sure how well this fic is known because as I stated in the post you mentioned I am extremely new to this fandom, I think I only watched the movie the Saturday before last. Let me tell you, my heart was beating all over the place during this. I cannot believe the audacity of Neil! I don’t want to spoil it because it’s literally a masterpiece, like this should be published and printed and given awards to–the letters and the imagery in them were so *shakes author like a squeaky toy* I LOVE YOUUUU RAHHHHH. Anything i have to say just will not convey how fucking amazing this fic is. Please go read it if you haven’t. And also Neil is an oblivious little man in this fic, the best type of Neil.

A Midnight Summer’s Dream: A Story of Hope (chapter 2 specifically) by cc tinselbee (thearchivistonmars)

Summary: (my words) an almost main au that will tear your fucking soul from your body. Beautiful, amazing, life altering, makes me cry in the best way. The bittersweetness of it all is POTENT. It is an Almost Maine au (I am scared to look into almost maine now from how heartbreaking this fic was. I have only read the SECOND chapter, I’m sure the first chapter is magnificent but as of now I am in the midst of finals so I will check it out when I am done.)

My notes: Someone printed out this fic, tied it to a brick, and threw it into the window of my heart, shattering my soul into pieces. How could you do this to be, author? This piece has me able to physically feel my brain putting up barriers to stop thinking about the ending that is implied. Nope, nope, nope. If you are one for incurable angst, please go ahead and enjoy. It’s a wonderful story and it evoked emotions in me that I couldn’t even stand. The author is very talented for this and I’m manifesting that alternative/possible happy ending they mentioned in their notes/comments. I haven’t read the first chapter, so this is specifically about the second one because up until a few moments ago I didn’t realize that there was a first chapter–I clicked on the link to the fic from the author’s tumblr and was sleep deprived and thought it was the beginning of the fic 🙂

Gentle Lover, Remedy ****by violet_sunset on ao3. 1/1 chap, 13,135 words.

Summary: “Todd’s first semester at Welton marks the moment he stops going to church. There are regular Masses offered in the chapel, but whenever Todd thinks about going he’s overwhelmed by nausea and has to hover in the bathrooms until he is sure he won’t vomit. When he was a kid and he thought God was just a pair of arms open in embrace, he would have jumped at the chance to attend, to sing from the hymnal and listen to homily and absorb the sacrament of blood and body. Now, God seems like a distant thing.”

My notes: HOLY FUCK, RELIGIOUS GUILT MY BELOVED. That’s one of my favorite tags to see in a work, and it isn’t often that I have seen it in some of the pairings that I like. Of course, with religious guilt comes internalized homophobia and period typical attitudes–the fic actually made use of words used in that time period that were used to refer to queer folk, so if any of those trigger you please be wary as well. I love, love, LOVE the usage of religious metaphors and words that are littered all around in this piece as well as the descriptions that show Todd’s pathway of his beliefs. As we know Todd has a deeply ingrained inferiority complex and WOW does it shine in this fic. It made me cry feeling the second-hand guilt that Todd feels. Also, the author tackled the controversy of appropriation in the film–meaning Charlie’s preference of the name Nuwanda–and expanded on his ethnic background which was really nice to read. They also touched upon Charlie’s relation to gender and (semi-canonical?) non-binaryness (it's a word because I say so) in a beautiful and delicate way that is very rare in most works that I have seen. In general there are very few fics that I have read that have included Charlie as being anything other than cisgender, so it was wonderful to see it included in this work. As well as this, Todd having a panic attack/sensory overload when a certain ginger starts being homophobic was incredibly well written and it felt like it captured those feelings that you have during an overwhelmingly stressful moment, though that is an understatement. Todd’s inability to realize just what the fuck is going on and being sort of spacey during it all–been there and done that baby. This author is so fucking talented, and this is probably my favorite dps fic of all time. I dont have the words to effectively describe how amazing it is, so if you are able to, I highly suggest reading it to experience it for yourself :)

It’s Rotten Work by cc tinslebee (the archivistonmars) on ao3, 1/1 chap, 2,774 words.

Summary:

“I was hoping…” Neil peered back up at him with those fervent eyes before he broke his inconspicuous character and cracked a smile, “my favorite scene partner would help me test it out?”

In the midst of Todd’s continual crisis of what exactly Neil’s ‘no’ means, Neil asks him to read from a scene from Orestes. You know, for practice.

My notes: Short and utterly sweet. I love reading pieces that just show how much characters love each other whether it’s platonic, romantic, or somewhere in between. I’ve always been one for a slowburn, and it wasn’t until I realized that I was aromantic that the reason I love that trope is because in between the first ‘hello’ and the inevitable kiss, that love that I read about was similar to how I felt. Just a simple fondness that the characters had for each other that made them feel alive and safe etc. I could go on forever about that, but what I mean to say is that this fic captured that feeling of affection in a fleeting moment between Neil and Todd, and I think it’s lovely.

The Pepper Ghost Effect by Anonymous on ao3, 6/6 chaps, 19,472 words.

Summary:

“1964. Todd Anderson, now a successful playwright, whisks away an old flame from a horrifying mental asylum. That old flame, Neil Perry, becomes Todd’s new muse.”

Notes: Beware of the tags. It is a very angst ridden fic that addressed Neil’s mental health and the possibilities of what could have happened if he survived his first attempt on his life. Key word, first attempt. There is period-typical homophobia, past abusive partners, and ableism and abuse stemming from the sanitarium that [spoiler] is placed in for some time. There is a happy ending, so it’s not just angst and I feel that this fic is severely underrated. There are like only 24 kudos on it right now and 4 comments which?? What?? It’s an absolute masterpiece, and effectively captures the feeling and emotion of hopelessness and depression of a situation. Neil’s emotional response and numbness to everything around him resonated with me and I felt like it described my own brush with darkness from the lower points in my life. Read at your own risk and don’t push yourself if any of the tags may be triggering, but if you are able to this is a wonderful read that will elicit all sorts of feelings in your heart.

In the Subjunctive by ghostlin on ao3, 1/1 chaps, 5682 words.

Summary:

“The night the play opens, Neil turns left.”

My notes: This is a sort of fix-it fic with Neil coming back to the dorms after his fight with his father. It leaves off sort of ambiguous–and I do adore a good ambiguous ending–leaving the reader to imagine a happy ending. I consider it a happy ending because Neil is alive, but he is less than well mentally as of what he has endured. It also centered some on Charlie and Neil in the aftermath of it all which I enjoyed because I feel that sometimes fics forget that they are all friends. Todd wasn’t the only one mourning Neil–they all were. Also I liked the way the author captured the surprise of Charlie’s acceptance of Neil’s sexuality amongst the blunt hatred of the time. Often I feel like some fics don’t try to keep the edge of fear or vulnerability that that time period called for–which is totally fine! You do you, boo. I just have a preference for it because I feel that it almost adds to an ambiguous read of a situation. I also liked how the author wrote about Todd’s perception of Charlie and how he perceives him–whether or not Todd is supposed to be unreliable (I think it’s made somewhat clear that Charlie likes Todd–he wouldn't be encouraging Neil to spill his feelings if he didn’t) in his narration.

#fic rec #anderperry #dps fic rec #dead poets society fic rec

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