#first page of pyjama party

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Luke Arnold posted new video on tiktok, reading the first page of Hunger Games by Suzanna Collins for pyjama party!

#black sails #luke arnold #john silver #tiktok #hunger games #suzanne collins #first page of pyjama party #pyjama party

[luveline]

Hi Jade, congratulations on 40k! Absolutely amazing!!!

For the celebration, may I request '𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤' — with Eddie & the phrase"I don't feel good", either Eddie or Reader didn't eat much throughout the day?

Thanks so much!! 💜

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you! —eddie feels suddenly unwell after a long day with little to eat. you step in when he almost faints to take diligent care of him. fem!reader, 1.8k

"Hello, gorgeous." 

Eddie flinches at your appearance but quickly softens, pushing his book aside to open his arms to you. "I should be saying that to you!" he says, standing and squeezing you tight enough to force the breath from your chest in a rough laugh. 

"Wayne let me in, I swear." 

"I forgot you were coming," he says. Apologetic, he stops hugging you so tight and ends the embrace with your face in his hands. "Lucky me. It's like going to sleep December first and waking up on Christmas Eve, babe." 

He puts a piece of scrap paper between the pages of his book and hides it away on the nightstand. "Help me make this bed," he says. 

You're smiling just looking at him, rounding the bed to stand at the end while he moves near the top. You help him shake out the unmade comforter, straightening his blanket with a flourish. He beats the pillows into submission. When he's leaning forward you creep back behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your face to his spine. You can feel the notches. 

Eddie smells different. Like himself, you're not sure what it is, probably a mixture of skin and detergent and nothing special, but today there's a trace of cigarette smoke.

"You've been smoking in bed?" you ask, surprised. 

"How do you do that?" he asks, covering your arms with his and bending further forward under your weight. 

"Are you okay?" you ask instead of answering. 

"I'm fine. I've been dreadfully, woefully lazy today, babe. Like, totally sedentary, that book is kind of amazing." 

You curl around his waist to look at the cover. "The Shining," you read, trading the faces of the family stacked on the front. "By the guy who wrote Carrie? You love that one." 

"It's amazing." Eddie puts his arm behind your shoulders to usher you forward, holding you under his arm instead. Half-hugging, he kisses your cheek. 

You kiss him properly.

He receives gladly, though he steals the lead and leaves you reeling for a split-second. Funny how he can kiss you stupid in sloppy pyjamas, chipped nails digging into your hips. You don't care that he forgot you were coming over when he's this happy to see you.

"I think we should get takeout to celebrate you being so cute," you say, to his delight. "You can shower while I go find out what Wayne wants, and you can read your book after dinner." 

Eddie smiles, hides it, says, "No, I wanna see you, that's why you're here." 

"I'll still be here." You shrug. "I'll borrow your copy of Carrie and we can read together. I don't mind, I just wanted to be in the same room as you." 

He grabs you for stupid kisses smushed up into your neck until you're warm from being held. Fierce, you usher him away to the bathroom and make your way to the kitchen. You and Wayne are good at talking now and things are blissfully comfortable, a yellow menu for the Three Dragons spread out over the table as you make a list. Wayne orders, and upon seeing the mess of takeout menus they keep in one of the drawers under the cutlery drawer, you make it your mission to help him recover some space until Eddie's out of the shower. 

Eddie's quick. He appears dressed and dark-haired, scrubbing a towel over his face. Wet, his hair twists but doesn't coil. 

"That's better, dracula," Wayne says, dragging a lighter off of the edge of the window sill. "You look human. I'm going out back to smoke." 

Eddie sits on the couch and you slink from the kitchenette to be closer to him, sitting on the arm next to him. You can't deny the temptation of his curls, separating them with your fingers and brushing down. They're cold and long, kissing the space between his shoulder blades. 

Eddie doesn't say much. You're unnerved quickly; it's not like him to brood, especially after such a good hug before his shower.

"You okay?" you ask gently, fingertips trailing through his hair lazily. 

He curls inward. Not away from your touch but into a ball, of sorts, his back curved. "I don't feel good," he confesses, his voice brittle as sugar paper.

You lean forward with him as you had earlier, following him into his defensive position. "Baby?" 

"I feel sick," he says. 

Eddie loves complaining and you love to hear it, but not when his voice wobbles. Concerned but keeping your cool, you slide off of the arm to kneel in front of him, carding the damp sheet of his hair where it hands like ivy behind his ear. 

"You look pale." You stroke his hair, though there's nothing left to tuck. "How sick do you feel, Eddie? Like you could throw up?" 

"It's not like that." 

"Have you eaten anything today?" you ask. 

You know the answer before he shakes his head. 

Telling him off is instinctive, but it won't help, and you realise you're not interested in scolding him. You turn his face to yours. "Sitting forward will make you feel sicker. Sit back, and I'll get you something. Don't look so worried, baby, I'm sure it's just low blood sugar. Cool?" 

He smiles weakly. "You're right." 

Eddie sits back into the couch cushions and pulls one over his stomach, holding it there. The heat of his shower wouldn't have helped, and if he hasn't eaten it's possible he could faint. Luckily he'd seemed alert if miserable, so you step over his feet to try and fix him before he feels worse. It's weird rooting through their cabinets, but it's for Eddie's sake. You'll be forgiven.

You return with a sleeve of saltines, a couple of dark chocolate chip cookies, and a glass of apple juice. It's the concentrated kind from the grocery store full of bad bad things, but he needs sugar, and it's chock full of it. 

"Here you go," you say, sitting on the couch next to him. He's grey like dirty snow, eyes a touch glassy. "Do I need to call Wayne in?"

"No," he says, sitting up to accept your offered juice. "I'm okay, just felt real shitty real sudden." He skulls the juice to the sounds of your protesting and accepts a cookie, crumbs trickling down his lap as he snaps it in half. 

You wipe them away. 

"We got your usual from the Three Dragons, it'll be here soon, but I can make you something else? Or, you had eggs in the fridge, I bet Wayne would make you one of his nice omelettes." 

Eddie swallows his mouthful, head shaking. "I'm okay." 

You're not sure if you should believe him, your hand on his thigh rubbing up and down and up again, waiting for his skin to flush. He hadn't looked so sallow when you first arrived. 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you to shower on an empty stomach."

Eddie rubs at his head. There's agitation in the action, but none of which is directed at you, proven by the soft cadence of his voice when he says, "What are you sorry for, dummy? You didn't know. I'm sorry for being dramatic." He again leans back against the couch, his face parallel to the ceiling but his eyes watching your face. He's handsome even when he's poorly, the subtle bob of his Adam's apple accompanying a rough confession, "I didn't mean to scare you, I just don't think I've felt like that before." 

You reach up to draw a line along the cliff of his jaw, straight across and then down his neck. "Did you eat much yesterday? Maybe you're running low." He closes his eyes. You're still worried about him, clearing your throat. "You don't feel faint, do you? Does your head hurt?" 

"A little bit." 

You rush back to the kitchen for a glass of water. Wayne wars with the back door as you're filling it up, and his eyebrows hike when he sees the look on your face. "Everything okay, kid?" he asks. 

"Eddie's feeling freaky." 

"D'you eat?" Wayne calls. 

Eddie groans. You give Wayne a grim frown. 

"I'll make him a sandwich," Wayne decides, heading for the fridge. 

"Don't!" Eddie whines. "The food's coming any minute, I'm good! I was having a moment, just want attention." 

You laugh and loop back to him, tucking your legs under you as you sit and press the glass of cold water into his hand. 

"There are much better ways to get some attention," you tease. 

"But this way was so much fun," he drawls, monotone. 

You pet his hair as he drinks the water, appreciation mixed with a reverent, aching love in the way he tilts his head to your touch. 

"I feel better already," he says, holding the glass to his neck. 

You lift up to kiss the skin adjacent to his eye. "Good. Take it easy, Eds. You can't finish your book if you pass out." 

Wayne makes Eddie a sandwich and insists Eddie eat it, though your boyfriend argues that it'll ruin his takeout. "Should've thought about that when you skipped breakfast and lunch, then, idiot," Wayne says, putting an end to it swiftly. 

Eddie perks up halfway through his sandwich, and when the takeout comes, Wayne doesn't make him suffer through the second half. You eat, watch TV, and everyone survives the night. After cleaning up some, you and Eddie curl up in pyjamas together while he reads and you pretend, staring at the side of his face. 

His cheeks turn rosy the longer your gaze lingers. "I'm fine," he says quietly. "Just stupid." 

You squeeze his arm. "As long as you're okay. Tell me if you feel sick again, okay?" 

He closes his book around his fingers. 

"I'll tell you," he says, still quiet. Then, with a breezier tone, he reaches back with his hand to tangle your fingers and says, "I gotta thank you for being you. I didn't freak out 'cos I knew you were there, and, like, I know how lucky I am that I felt that way." 

You drop your jaw. "Woah, that is so sincere!" 

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes your hand away. "Dork." 

You crawl into his lap and hug him. He deserves a hug, for being sick and for being honest. If you're heavy he doesn't say a word, hugging you for a handful of minutes that stretch long and slow. "I'll get off you," you say, making little efforts to move. Eddie doesn't bother either. 

"I need you there, you stop me from getting sick," he says. 

You don't believe it for a second, but it's nice. Eddie reads around you, his arms looped through yours, his book perched on your shoulder as you nestle into the curve of his neck. 

#luveline's 40k party #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[g1rld1ary]

tell me when you're sober ; sirius black x gn!gryffindor!reader

➻ yayay my first sirius fic !!

➻ word count: 2042

➻ synopsis: drunk at a house party, sirius calls the reader and confesses something he shouldn't have

➻ warnings: mentions of alcohol & being drunk, swearing, a little angst (maybe??), happy ending, kissing, gn pronouns (lmk if I've missed any!)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were lying on your bed at home, content with your cozy night in. The newest Ella Fitzgerald record playing softly from the corner; a candle burning on your nightstand. You’d completed an extensive self care routine, feeling fresh, healthy and calm as you settled into your newest novel — a romance that had you dreaming of one of your closest friends.

Sirius Black was one of your best friends in the whole world. Both being Gryffindors, you had pretty much grown up together, and somewhere along the way you’d developed feelings for him against your will. But how could you not? He was beautiful, charming, and always managed to make you laugh; even the longest nights studying in the common room weren’t quite as tedious when he was hanging around — as much as you’d complain about him ‘bothering’ you. Whilst you knew he wouldn’t ever reciprocate your feelings and you would remain just friends, you were mostly content with that fact. You were filled with the type of love for him that was somewhat satisfied as long as you could express it, regardless of if it was under the guise of platonic affection. Still, that resignation didn’t stop you from imagining Sirius as the love interest in the novels you read; reciting poetry and executing grand gestures in your head.

The phone ringing down the hall brought you from your daze, and you tried to focus on the words written on the page until your mother knocked on your bedroom door, saying the call was for you. Curiously, you crawled out of bed, straightening your pyjamas as you hurried to the phone attached to the wall just outside of the kitchen.

“Hello?” You didn’t know what to expect, but your face softened to a smile when you heard the reply.

“My gorgeous y/n!” Sirius sang, consonants slightly slurred. You knew your friends were at a house party tonight, one that you’d politely declined despite Sirius’ insistence in you being there. It wasn’t your scene, and the group had organised a quieter games night at James’ place the night after, so you weren’t worried about missing too much.

“What are you doing, Black? Shouldn’t you be dancing on a table somewhere?” You teased, laughing lightly at the memory of one party you did attend, and the absolute fool Sirius had made of himself to Bennie and the Jets. He hummed in agreement.

“I was. But I wanted to talk to my favourite person — ‘ve missed you.”

“You’re seeing me tomorrow, Sirius. I’m sure you can hold on sixteen more hours?” You could practically see Sirius shaking his head no, childish pout on his lips. That was how you knew he was pretty drunk, he always got whiny and overly affectionate.

“But that’s with everyone, I miss you,” You both loved and hated when he flirted with you like this; you knew it was a joke but it still made you weak in the knees. “Tell me about your day.” You sighed, knowing that it was chatting to him or worrying about the dumb inebriated decisions he would no doubt make, so you started.

You gave him a run through of your day, sliding down the wall to be in a seated position as you realised it would probably be a long call. You told him about the summer deep clean you’d powered through and the subsequent self care night you had definitely earned. He listened intently, and you could occasionally hear him hum into the phone or interject with a one word response, just so you knew he was paying attention. You’d launched into a recap of your novel so far when you realised he hadn’t spoken in several minutes. Worrying he’d passed out or lost interest in your ramblings you tapered off.

“Sirius? You there?” He hummed an affirmation. “Oh. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, ‘course. It’s just…” He trailed off and you frowned, holding the silence so he’d continue. “I love you.”

You sighed in relief. You two, and the rest of the friendship group, said ‘I love you’ all the time, it was never something to be apprehensive about.

“You know I love you too, Black. I’m still on the phone aren’t I?” You laughed, twirling the yellow cord around your freshly painted (but almost definitely dry) fingers. You heard him groan over the phone and faltered again.

“No, y/n. I’m fucking in love with you.”

You almost dropped the phone you were so surprised. You felt your heart beating against your chest, both in excitement and panic. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t. Maybe Remus had broken his promise and told Sirius about your crush on him and this was all some kind of sick joke. Sirius Black was not in love with you — you had seen him grinding and making out with Marissa from the year above at the end of year party, and that was only a few weeks ago. All the possible joy that had crept into the edges of your heart was extinguished, and instead anger bloomed, spreading to the tips of your fingers, which brought the receiver back up to your face.

“Hang up and tell me when you’re sober.” With that you slammed the phone back on the wall, hot tears building behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You stumbled blindly back into your bedroom, both red hot rage and crushing sadness obscuring your vision.

Safely in bed, you let the tears fall. How dare he? You were the one who had pined after him for years, made peace with the fact that you would never hear those words out of his mouth for you, and for what? For him to rip out your heart because he was drunk and bored? Did he think it was funny? Did he even know what he was doing to you? You sobbed into the stuffed dog Sirius had given you for your last birthday, before the anger resurfaced and you launched it across the room, slamming your head into the pillow as the toy made a dull thud against the wall.

You almost didn’t go to James’ game night the next evening. You reasoned it would just be too humiliating, Sirius would crow about the girl he had hooked up with after you’d ended the call — or even worse make fun of you about the supposed confession. No, you were more than ready to call in sick and spend the night pitying yourself over a fat bowl of ice cream. However, when James called around midday begging you to bring your ‘world famous’ white chocolate brownies “And your sweet face, of course,” how could you refuse? And so you got dressed in your confidence outfit; pulling your hair into your favourite style. You needed all the help you could get today.

Standing in front of James’ door you sucked in a breath. Trying to put an easy smile on your face, it faltered when Sirius was the one to welcome you inside. He grinned when he saw you, which made the flicker of anger spark once more. How could he act like he didn’t just say he was in love with you?

“Hey everyone, y/n’s here!” He called, and you could the hear the stampede of footsteps as your friends all came out to greet you. Your smile returned involuntarily as Remus pulled you into a strong hug, which was copied by each of the girls. James, conversely, dropped to the floor in a position of worship as you presented the tray of brownies.

You all sat around the fire, chatting easily as James painstakingly set up the game of Monopoly in front of you.

“Man, I don’t remember a thing from last night,” Sirius said, reclining back in an armchair. Everyone laughed but you, and you fought with your brain to keep your features relaxed as you stared at him.

“Be grateful for that,” Lily laughed, counting out game money in piles. “You made an utter tool of yourself.”

“Yeah, rambling about Merlin knows what all bloody night; you were nonsensical,” Marlene teased and you cast your eyes down to study your fingers, picking at the already chipping polish. That’s why Sirius had acted like nothing was wrong, he didn’t even remember he’d said it. Only you were left with your whole world changed, and the bastard didn’t even have to suffer the memories of it. Suddenly you were overcome with the urge to take the beer Peter was offering you, downing half the bottle in two gulps.

“What’s got you all riled up, love?” Remus asked and you stuttered, unable of course to tell him the truth. Eyeing James’ finished set up you created a lie.

“Getting ready to dominate you all in Monopoly, duh.”

After that night, you couldn’t face Sirius. You weren’t avoiding him, per se, you could never do that. But you weren’t making any effort to see him, and you were proud of that self restraint. At dinners you’d sit next to your other friends, not looking at him unless he addressed you directly. Between classes you’d take off without waiting for him, claiming you were already stressed about the workload. Your friends could tell something was wrong, but no one could figure out what — seemingly not even Sirius.

Until one Friday night. It was unusually quiet, no parties planned or adventures to be had, and so you and your friends had taken over the Gryffindor common room, laughing and talking over the radio and the crackling of the fireplace.

“Firewhiskey, Pads?” James offered, but Sirius shook his head.

“Not tonight.” He smiled, sparing a casual glance to you. You weren’t looking at him, pretending to be engrossed in Lily’s conversation, but you couldn’t help but be slightly concerned. When did Sirius ever turn down a drink? Especially on a Friday night. You shook your head slightly, it wasn’t your problem anymore, you were still mad at him.

Eventually the night wound down, everyone heading back up to their respective dorm room one by one, tired out by the week. When you look up from the novel you’d been engrossed in for the past half hour, you were shocked by the fact that it was just you and Sirius left. Stranger than that was that Sirius wasn’t even doing anything, just staring blankly at the fire as his leg bounced aggressively.

You got up quickly, collecting your things in the attempt of a smooth escape. No such luck. Sirius stood to stop you and you stepped back carefully.

“What are you doing, Sirius?” You asked, forcefully avoiding his steely gaze.

“I’m in love with you.” You faltered, meeting his eyes to search for hidden meaning. You found none.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you, stupid. And I’m sure as hell sober right now, you can ask anyone.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot as you realised what all this meant. He had told the truth on that phone call and you had not only hung up on him, but also got mad and avoided him. Despite his feelings being more than reciprocated. The burning anger that had made a home in your stomach recently dissolved into butterflies, and a smile grew. Sirius relaxed as he saw your body language change, and chanced a tentative step towards you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Your eyes shone in the firelight and Sirius couldn’t help but pull you closer towards him, arms wrapped around your waist.

“I thought, I mean I was worried—” You cut him off by holding his cheeks in your palms, pressing a soft kiss on his lips, one which he hungrily chased. You laughed and indulged him, the two of you holding each other carefully, lips moving slowly, exploring the other.

“Just so we’re clear,” You teased, “I’m pretty in love with you too, Black.”

#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #james potter #the marauders era #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #marauders fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #sirius black oneshot #sirius orion black #mild angst #fluff #love #harry potter #remus lupin #lily evans

[beom1e]

come home tonight

this, of all things, was supposed to work. that’s what you told yourself, repeated in your mind every night as you sat alone in the half-empty bedroom, every possession of beomgyu’s now missing. it was always going to be him for you. why didn’t he feel the same way?

pairing choi beomgyu x fem! reader

genre long-term relationship, lovers to exes, angst, slight fluff

warnings breakup, cursing, signs of depression

at the start of adulthood, you grew to love the year’s end.

the cold air would bite at the tip of your nose and your cheeks, and as much as you could hate it, the reddened skin was a sweet reminder of the season. it was cold enough to have a few extra blankets on your bed and maybe a hot water bottle too, and then to wake up and slip on some fluffy socks and a cosy hoodie. there was imagery of orange leaves and shades of brown coming into fashion, hot drinks rising to the top of the menu and a warm meal in a cosy cafe replacing the ice cream in the park cliché of a passing summer.

people came together for so many celebrations, families being reunited and the larger population becoming more generous in favour of the seasonal charities. a wave of students would move away from their childhood homes, only to return shortly after for a loving dinner around the table and matching pyjamas and movie marathons.

you especially loved october. halloween, pumpkin, scary movies, autumn fashion, pie, soup, knitted jumpers. and you had met the love of your life then, a random october evening on what had seemed like just another ordinary day.

every year, you had to buy decorations for your dorm, both arms holding heavy bags but you were totally unbothered due to your childlike excitement. and that was when one of the bags had broke open, everything falling to the ground at your feet in a mess of orange, purple and brown decor.

the kind stranger had rushed over to help you, collecting decorations in his arms before they could roll off onto the road. that was the day you had fallen for beomgyu’s smile and stubbornness to help you carry everything home. he teased you about your love for the annual holiday, admitting he had no plans to decorate his own dorm. so of course you offered to help him do it, and the innocent trip to a decoration store with him quickly became your first date of many.

he reminded you so much of the colder months. when you could see your breath in the air, the way the wind blew your hair forward into your eyes, wool hats and thick boots, grabbing a bite to eat from the nearest hot food truck. despite his bright personality, he had always been the calm autumn after the hectic summer in your eyes.

and, inevitably, he was how you grew to hate the year’s end.

october 11th,

‘soobin’s halloween party is coming up,’ beomgyu called from the kitchen, over the sound of water running and filling up the glass in his hand. ‘do you want to come with me?’

‘sure,’ the tap was turned off in time for your reply. ‘do you want to come with me to pick up some decorations?’

‘what’s the point?’ he turned into the living room, sipping from his water. you turned back to look at him, a costume magazine in your hands. ‘i mean, if we’re not throwing a party and won’t actually be home for halloween, why do we need to decorate?’

‘it brings me comfort,’ shrugging, you turned back to your magazine and folded the corner of a page that interested you. beomgyu leaned over the back of the sofa to see what you were looking at, a scoff escaping his lips. ‘what’s wrong?’

‘don’t you think we’re a little too old to be dressing up for halloween?’ his tone was mocking, one that you really didn’t care for. in all the time that you had known your boyfriend, he had never been against letting you celebrate halloween in the way that you loved. the shift in his attitude was a telltale sign that something was up.

‘we’re not going to cut eye holes into bedsheets, beomgyu,’ you shot back. ‘we can be a couple from a famous horror series or something. like sabrina and harvey, for example.’

‘why don’t you just get some cat ears and wear all black?’ he rolled his eyes, moving around the couch to sit beside you.

‘is there a problem?’ snapping the magazine closed, you leaned and tossed it onto the coffee table. ‘we’ve done this for the past three years. why do you have an issue with it now?’

‘i just think it’s a childish idea,’ he explained. ‘most girls dress like a playboy bunny, or just find any excuse to wear leather.’

‘so my sabrina and harvey suggestion wasn’t slutty enough for you?’ the look of utter annoyance painted your features. ‘let’s come back to this when you’re done being an asshole.’

october 14th,

the call went to voicemail again. you huffed, placing your phone face down onto the kitchen table that you were sitting at. beomgyu hadn’t picked the phone up in hours, nor was he answering your texts or showing any sign that he was coming home soon. after the small fight the two of you had a few days ago, he began avoiding you as if it had been all your fault.

you thought that things would change for this particular night.

around thirty minutes after the last attempt to call him, the door into your apartment clicked open. in came the topic of your thoughts, phone in hand and screen brightened due to movement. clearly he was just ignoring you, and had no genuine reason to avoid your calls.

‘oh,’ he looked up, taking in the sight. you’d set the table with candles and wine glasses, cold food untouched on your best plates. guilt consumed him when he remembered that it was your third year anniversary, and he had been a jerk to you all day. ‘i’m sorry, y/n, i was just busy and forgot what today was.’

‘ok,’ you replied simply, arms still crossed against your chest. it was your mission to avoid his eyes, because you knew you would forgive him if you were to take in his gentle features. and that was the last thing you wanted. ‘i’m going to bed. clean this up for me, yeah?’

beomgyu watched you exit the kitchen and go into the bathroom. you were wearing a dress he had bought you for one of your birthdays, one that he told you was his favourite. your hair and makeup had been done to perfection, and yet there stood beomgyu in jeans and a t-shirt and nothing prepared for you. no gifts, no surprises, not even a ‘happy anniversary’ wish or a bouquet of ‘i’m sorry’ flowers.

‘y/n, wait,’ he followed quickly behind you, pulling the bathroom door closed before you could open it all the way. ‘i messed up badly, i know, but i want to make it up to you.’

‘are you going to build a time machine so that you can go back in time and actually remember our anniversary?’ you laughed bitterly, shooting him a glare. ‘can you just get out of my way?’

he removed his grip on the handle, stepping aside. once inside the locked bathroom, you slid down to the floor so that you were sat with your back to the door and your head in your hands. did he not love you anymore?

‘i know you don’t want to talk to me right now,’ he continued on from the other side of the door. ‘i was an asshole. i started the fight and let you take the blame for it, and i didn’t even remember our anniversary, but you did all of this for me even though you were still angry at me. i’m so sorry, y/n, and i don’t expect you to forgive me.’

‘good, because i don’t forgive you,’ you whispered, tears threatening to fall. ‘i think i’m going to stay with a friend for a while… just until i can face you again.’

‘y/n, please don’t do this,’ beomgyu rested his head against the door, eyes closing in defeat. ‘please don’t leave. i’ll go… i’ll go stay with yeonjun for a week… to give us both some time to cool down and think.’

‘if that’s what you want,’ sighing, you wiped away at your tears. ‘and i won’t be going to soobin’s party.’

‘i wasn’t expecting you to,’ he frowned, lifting his head from the door and pushing away from it. ‘i’m sorry, y/n. seriously, this was all my fault.’ the floorboards creaked beneath his shoes as he walked away. that was your cue to get ready for bed, while he silently cleaned up the kitchen.

after you showered and changed into some warm pyjamas, you headed straight for bed without a worry about what beomgyu was doing. it was clear to you now that he had finally fallen out of love with you. 

the hours you had spent making him his favourite meal, the expensive gift you left waiting for him on his bedside table, the dessert still sitting in the centre of the oven, the smile on your face as you found a ribbon perfectly matching the colour of his favourite dress of yours. that was the evidence. he didn’t even care, clearing everything away and spending the final hour of daylight in the living room alone. it was over.

october 15th,

it felt wrong. it felt empty. you’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, something in your muscles and joints and bones aching and preventing you from peacefully drifting off. when you woke up, beomgyu was already watching you with hurt in his gaze. if not for the painful connotations, it would have been sweet. two lovers waking up side-by-side in their shared bed, his eyes scanning over her features. except he was wondering where it all went wrong, and not how he got so lucky. he wanted to speak, but he had nothing left to say.

you rolled over to face away before making the move to get out of bed. the bedroom door closed loudly behind you after you disappeared. he sat up after, looking around the room filled with so many memories of the two of you. he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t ready to lose you just yet.

so he hurried after you, meeting you in the kitchen as you made yourself a morning coffee. you had this unmoving expression on your face, but your eyes were sad.

‘i don’t want to run away to yeonjun’s,’

‘i think we should break up,’

‘y/n, no,’ beomgyu was stubborn, that was one thing you had learned about him during your relationship. whether it was getting the last word in or completing a difficult level on the game he was playing, he wouldn’t give up until he got it. ‘we don’t have to break up to fix this, i want to be with you.’

‘no, you don’t,’ you mumbled, sniffling. he hurried to pull you into his arms, not wanting to see you cry if he was the reason behind it. ‘you don’t love me anymore.’

he didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t even sure if what you had said was true or false. he just let you cry in his arms, tears stinging at the corners of his own eyes as his t-shirt began to soak through. falling out of love was nobody’s fault, it certainly wasn’t his decision. he would never choose to lose you.

it felt like hours before he let you go. the grip you’d had on the material of his shirt left behind creases in two places, some of your hair stuck to your neck from where his head had been buried, tears of his own having inevitably fell.

but after the moment you shared, beomgyu was packing a week’s worth of things into the suitcase you’d taken to jeju last year and you were sitting in the middle of your bed with your knees to your chest. you had promised each other forever and you were willing to give him forever. how could he lose interest in you in just three years? how could he fall out of love with you when you were still so enamoured with him?

the very place you were coexisting in was the home you had built from the ground up. it was just a rented apartment — one that had seen many couples alike come and go — but you had made enough memories in it to make it feel special. the night you moved in, your first anniversary, all of the movie nights under rainfall, the talks you had about growing old together forever. memories that had been locked into the walls and the windows and the couch and the bedsheets. and as you stared at the person who you had created all of the memories with, you felt them all slipping away from you.

all you could feel was anger, embarrassment and heartache.

‘call me if you ever want to talk,’ beomgyu was standing in the doorway then, inches away from leaving your shared home. ‘i promise i’ll pick up every time you call.’

you only nodded weakly, your hand holding the door open being the only thing keeping him inside. neither of you knew what to say. how do you say goodbye to the love of your life?

once the door was closed, he was gone. you didn’t know what the future held for you both, whether he was ever going to come back and beg for you to let him stay. or would you slowly fall out of love with him in the same way that he had fallen out of love with you? maybe this was all a mistake and you were going to laugh about your time apart with friends in the future as they sat around your table in the kitchen with you. but only a fool would believe that.

october 24th,

the first week without beomgyu, you didn’t call. he wasn’t active on social media and he didn’t try to contact you either. it was a week to yourself, time for you to work on personal affairs and find happiness outside of your relationship. at the end of the week, he came back to pick up some more things. he didn’t drop to his knees and beg for another chance, he didn’t even ask if you wanted him to come back. you were walls apart as he washed some clothes and made a snack before packing up most of his stuff and walking out.

all you could do was cry into the pillow that still carried his scent that was slowly fading. the motivation to take care of yourself faded with his presence. you called in sick to work, cancelled on all of your friends, you barely even left the bedroom. if he was to show up again like that, out of the blue, you wouldn’t be able to face him.

november 17th,

weeks turned into a month and soon it was an apartment that was half yours and half nobody else’s. all of the bills had been switched to your name, not even the netflix subscription under his name anymore. the bedsheets and pillows had been washed of his scent completely. all he was to you was an untouched contact in your phone, the last few texts displaying arrangements for him to come pick the rest of his things up the night before halloween.

nobody broke up with anybody, you assumed he called it quits the first night he spent at his friend’s house. you told everyone it was a mutual agreement to break up, they hardly pitied you that way. some would apologise for bringing it up and give you that sympathetic frown, others would claim you weren’t right for each other, but they were wrong. he was the one for you, you’d been sure of that ever since the day you met him.

he was always kind, nobody expected it. he loved to joke around with his friends and play video games as if it was a paying job, but he was mature. he always had a logical solution when you turned to him for one. it was only when he knew you needed to laugh again that he would tease you or make an immature joke that received an eye-roll.

he knew you more than anyone else ever had. your favourite drink that he would always arrive with at the university library when you studied together. your forever loves, the movies you never got tired of and snacks you could eat until the end of time. the way you liked to be held in his arms before bed, the exact technique that would make you fall asleep when he played with your hair. how long you liked to shower, your favourite scent in perfumes and shampoos and detergent. your go-to flavour of ice cream, foods you would never eat even if you were offered a large sum of money.

god, you missed him like crazy. he seemed fine.

your relationship slowly disappeared from social media as if it hadn’t even happened. he was the first to delete the photos and posts about you, even the photos you had taken of him. you simply followed suit, not wanting to seem pathetic. although you archived every one rather than permanently deleting them, and a small part of you hoped he did the same.

everybody adjusted to the break-up, cutting themselves off whenever they mentioned his name around you. they tiptoed around you as if they knew that you would fall apart just thinking about him and what you’d once had. but you didn’t want it to be over. the lack of his presence in your life only caused you more pain, you just wanted him back.

the closest you had gotten to beomgyu since halloween was yeonjun showing up at your door. ‘he wanted me to return this,’ he’d said, holding a key out towards you. it was missing its keyrings, just a key attached to a metal loop. ‘and if you want it, i have his new address.’

of course you declined. he heartlessly sent a friend to return his key to you, but offered you an entrance into his new life without you. you wanted no part in his game, but avoiding beomgyu was impossible. you lived in the same area, shopped at the same stores, had the same friends. eventually you would have to talk, and you would have to find out what exactly happened between the two of you.

visiting the convenience store late at night was a common thing for you to do. you were wearing some old, checkered pyjama pants and a hoodie too big for your frame. it was going to just be a quick run in and out for some snacks and painkillers for your stubborn headache when you saw him standing there in front of an illuminated fridge.

he was staring between two drinks, one in each hand as if he was making a decision. his attire was much more put together than your almost-pyjama situation. he was dressed as if he had been out all day, like he had been out with somebody else, probably on a date considering he was dressed the same as he would when you he took you out on dates.

it was unknown to you, but beomgyu dressed up and came to the store in search for you. then it could be an accident that you bumped into each other, if this time was successful. he was always trying to accidentally bump into you on purpose.

you took off down an aisle as far away from him as you could, eyes searching for the painkillers that you typically bought. once you grabbed them and moved to another aisle, you heard beomgyu heading towards the cashier. thinking you were in the clear, you walked down the aisle he was previously occupying in search of the snacks you craved. as you approached the end of the aisle, the boy you were avoiding turned the corner and stopped in his tracks at the sight of you.

your feet brought you to a stop, just inches away from crashing into him. a sigh of relief left your lips.

‘hey,’ he spoke first, meeting your eyes.

‘hey,’ you whispered, gaze falling to the ground.

‘how are you?’ it was a stupid question to ask, he didn’t know where to start. all he wanted was to be close to you again.

‘well it’s a friday night and i’m about to eat a whole tub of ice cream and watch a movie,’ you laughed shortly, gesturing towards the ice cream box behind beomgyu. ‘what about you, is your date waiting for you in the car?’

‘i don’t have a date,’ the reply was simple and lacking emotion in his words, but you felt a wave of relief. it was reassuring that he wasn’t seeing anyone. it made you feel hopeful. ‘things are just a mess right now with the move and everything.’

‘yeah,’ you breathed out, then awkwardly chewing the inside of your cheek. ‘i better go, the couch is waiting for me.’

‘you forgot your ice cream,’ he twisted his head back towards the ice cream box. you came back down to earth in that moment and remembered where you were.

‘right, yeah,’ another laugh followed as you took a step towards him. he slid open the freezer from the top and you reached in for your favourite flavour. the door closing again cut through the silence. ‘goodbye, beomgyu.’

he didn’t say anything back. he couldn’t. goodbye, like you were trying to get away from him for the rest of time, like you hoped never to see him again. not a ‘see you around,’ or a simple ‘bye,’ but a goodbye. you were walking away by then as he stood frozen, so he followed you to the cashier.

as the cashier read out your total, beomgyu grabbed his card and placed it over the reader on the machine. you were left speechless, stumbling over your words as your receipt was being printed. you thanked the cashier with a smile but felt your shoulders drop with defeat.

annoyed, you shot him a glare and walked out of the store with your things. he followed behind you without grabbing his own things, the door sliding closed behind him. it was just the two of you staring each other down under the stars and the rain, neither of you knowing how to put this to an end.

‘i’m sorry,’ he spoke. ‘for everything. and i love you, y/n.’

he turned away, heading towards his parking space.

‘come home tonight,’ you called out into the dark, not even sure if he could hear you.

‘where do you think i’m going?’ he turned back around to face you. ‘i am going home.’

‘that’s not your home,’ you defended. ‘you know what i mean.’

‘i can’t do that,’ he sighed. ‘we broke up, i’ve moved out, we don’t even live together anymore.’

‘even if it’s just for one night?’ you frowned, your eyes stinging with oncoming tears.

beomgyu didn’t want just one night, he wanted to erase the past month and go back to how it used to be. it was comfortable and familiar and he loved you too much to let you go, but things had changed. the apartment would look different, you wouldn’t show the same side of you that he’d grown to love. you weren’t the same people anymore, you would never trust him the same way that you used to, and he’d fallen out of love with you. loving you could never compare to the way that he had seen you when he was deeply in love with you, like you were the sun, the moon, and the stars all in one.

‘and then what?’ he sighed. ‘this isn’t going to work.’

‘but why wouldn’t it?’ you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

november 27th,

if anybody was to ask what happened when you and beomgyu broke up, you wouldn’t know what to tell them. you were never sure if he was going to come back to you, but you still never gave up hope. that’s what people in love do, hope.

autumn was your favourite time of the year, or had been. you’d already skipped over halloween, and the novelty of orange leaves and brown clothing was starting to rub off. you wondered if beomgyu had been the thing you loved so much about autumn, because it was the time you fell in love. maybe you weren’t anticipating the season of pumpkins and coffee, maybe you were just looking to feel the same way you had when you first met him.

now that he was gone, everyday felt regular. it wasn’t exciting, there was nothing in the air. you didn’t walk around with a wide smile on your lips, kindly greeting strangers. you rolled your eyes at children jumping in leaf piles, scoffed when somebody ordered a pumpkin spice latte and pushed every cosy jumper to the back of your closet.

all that you had left was yourself. at least, that’s what you told yourself, because in reality you had everyone but him, and in reality, that was much worse.

there were so many missed calls and texts left unread on your phone, the device constantly buzzing on your coffee table. you would simply stare at the tv and switch between a million and one sitting positions in order to find a comfortable one. it always ended with your head hanging down from the couch and your legs thrown over the back of it. no plans, no purpose, no motivation, and time passing you by.

beomgyu was right, everything had changed, including you.

#tomorrow x together #txt x reader #txt x y/n #txt #txt au #txt oneshot #txt angst #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #choi beomgyu au #choi beomgyu oneshot #choi beomgyu angst #beomgyu au #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu angst

[covetyou]

o, christmas tree

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: M (18+ only blog!) warnings: sex toys (so many butt plugs), Dieter being a menace to his PA, no smut, pure silliness. word count: 1.2k summary: As PA to Dieter Bravo, you were used to the strange, unusual and downright weird. What you weren't used to was taking in a shipment of - what? And how many?

A/N: I've had christmas trees/butt plugs on the brain since submitting prompts for secret santas, so I stole this one back (@missredherring I literally couldn't resist, sorry). I wrote most of this while walking my dog on Wednesday, mostly while she itched her ass on the pavement.

This is the last Dieter of me for this year, I sweeeear. Pinky promise.

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Being personal assistant to Dieter Bravo certainly had its moments. And this was one of them, as you sign for a delivery at his home of several large boxes that had clinked when the courier had brought them inside and placed them on the ground.

With a polite smile, the courier doesn't meet your eyes as hurries back out the door and into his truck, leaving you alone with the delivery slip wondering what the hell Dieter has purchased now. You cast your eyes down the paper, the company name entirely unfamiliar to you as you reach the boxes contents.

"Three hundred assorted... Dee!"

It has got to be a mistake, you think. He was unpredictable, but there was no reason for him to do something as ridiculous as this. You couldn't even imagine, didn't even want to begin to imagine, what he would do with three hundred -

Thunderous footsteps slam down the stairs, and Dieter is swinging around the last post to greet you. His hair is a mess, when isn't it, and his clothes are slung loosely around his body. You'd seen the tabloids and magazines before you started working for him, and how they often liked to call Dieter a chaotic and unprofessional, but you had to admire his dedication to loungewear and comfort chic. If you could get away with it you'd wear pyjamas all day too.

"What have I done now. You only shout like that when I've done something."

Thrusting the delivery slip into his hands you put your hands on your hips and wait, watching as his eyes quickly scan down the page and a wicked smile pulls across his face.

"Oh, amazing, they're here just in time."

"Dee, you cannot be serious." You found yourself asking him this question often, and yet he almost always was deadly, painfully serious. The look on his face tells you as much.

"Really? Three hundred assorted butt plugs? Assorted, Dee. What does that even mean."

He gives you a look that tells you you should, somehow, absolutely know what it means. When you don't respond, he sighs dramatically.

"Y'know, assorted sizes, colors, materials."

He's still not getting it, or maybe you're not getting it. You've got to be sick, you're having some fever dream inspired by the sex toys he liked to leave all around the place.

"But what are they for?"

"The party. Duh."

You told him a party would be a good idea to celebrate the end of a great year, and at first he'd reluctantly agreed. It had surprised you when his party planning picked up with gusto, and he refused your offers of help saying he had it all under control. You knew you should've been more suspicious. It was always a good idea to be more suspcisious where Dieter was concerned.

You rub your temples. Three hundred assorted butt plugs. For a Christmas party. You'd seen the guest list, some A-listers were invited, along with Dieter's co-stars from the last year and his usual crowd. Even so, it wasn't enough to warrant three hundred of anything - the guest list spanned 100 people at most.

The harsh rip of tape pulls you from your mental gymnastics, and you watch Dieter crack open the first box. The boxes had been heavy, and they'd rattled in way that, now you think about it, screamed assorted. Dieter pulls the first butt plug from the box, holding it to the light and letting the glass gleam.

"Dieter. What do you need butt plugs for, it's a Christmas party."

He shrugs his shoulders. "Decoration. Party favors. Whatever."

When you blink your eyes at him he rolls his at you.

"Figured they look like little Christmas trees, look." He places the plug on the flat of his hand and, you've got to give it to him, he's not wrong. The one he's currently holding is a deep red glass, so it's festive too, but from a glance to the box you can see just about every color thinkable. Assorted is making more and more sense.

He hands the plug to you so he can rummage through the box some more, and you hold it as if it's about to detonate in your hand. You know it's not used (yet), and by god if you hadn't held some questionable things of Dieter's in the past, but it's too early to be dealing with any of this. You just want a coffee and a sit down, and maybe some tylenol now that you were seemingly getting a headache and a pain in your ass all at once.

"What color?" he says over his shoulder, his hands still plunged into the first box.

"What color?"

"Yeah," he says, standing, holding two plugs in each hand. "Which do you think is my color?"

"Dee, I am not picking out a butt plug for you."

"Oh, come on," he whines, stomping his foot a little. "I know you like -"

"No."

He yanks the first plug from your hands, the red one, and thrusts a swirly pink one into your palm. "Fine. Here."

The question is on your lips, but before you can get it out he smirks at you.

"Pink is your color."

Your pants rip in front of him one time, and he's forever bringing up the color of your underwear. He bought you pink copies of your favorite shoes for your birthday, sent pink flowers to your apartment for eight weeks whilst he was away on a shoot without you, kept ruby chocolate in the house to snack on when you'd walk by. The man was a menace, and even though you both knew you found it funny, you keep your face steely as you brandish the pink plug at him.

"You won't be encouraging people to use these at the party, will you, Dee?"

He picks up the first box, groaning as he bends but then chuckling as the glass jingles and tinkles together lightly in the box, and walks down the hall without answering your question.

"Dieter."

You can see the devilish grin on his face from here. The asshole is ignoring you. You follow him down the hall.

"You won't be encouraging people to use them at the Christmas party, will you?"

"I think blue might be my color."

"Dee, stop ignoring me!"

He sets the box down on the kitchen island, rubbing his hands together in glee.

"Tell me you won't be encouraging people to use butt plugs at your party."

He still doesn't answer, and instead strides past you to the door, he grabs another box before lugging it down the hall to dump it next to the first.

"Dieter."

Tearing open the next box, he lets out a very pleased chuckle as he pulls out a considerably larger plug and sets it down on the countertop with a clink. It did look remarkably like a Christmas tree.

"Please."

He taps you on the nose as he fetches the last box and you cast your eyes down with a sigh, turning the pink plug around in your hands in defeat.

And then it catches your eye, a light engraving on the flat base of the plug. Flipping it, you look for a moment before your eyes adjust and register what's written on the bottom.

In beautiful looping cursive are the initials D.B.

Three hundred assorted and monogrammed butt plugs.

"God fucking damn it, Dieter."

tag list: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo & reader #the bubble fanfiction #the bubble #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics

[marqueesaa]

get him back!

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: theodore and ariadna have a big break in their relationship. But when ari made him jealous with lorenzo the other day, she didn't realise he could turn the tables on her

warnings: MDNI, jealousy, mention of sex, toxic, asshole theo

There he was, sitting on the sofa with a ravenclaw girl on his lap. I sat opposite on the couch, Lorenzo next to me. I pierced the back of her head as I watched every single move she made on him. Lorenzo's hand was on my knee as he talked to Draco and I rolled my eyes and bit my inside cheek.

How could he pick up another girl straight after such a small argument? Or was it jealousy because I danced with Enzo at the Slytherin party last night? Whatever it was, it was driving me crazy. But he was enjoying himself, you could see that straight away. He thought it was sexy and cute when I got jealous.

The girl on top of him was ludovica barrymore, the worst of all ravenclaws. Normally she was supposed to be a Slytherin, but her parents didn't want to break the family tradition so the hat had made an exception. Whatever she is, she's getting on my nerves.

I don't want her to feel special when she can get on theo's lap. Everyone has ridden that dick, the guy was a slut. But he said to me that I was special and that I was the only one he could imagine a future with. He knew he was driving me crazy with that girl, just like I knew he'd go insane if I made out with Lorenzo. That's how our relationship is, toxic as hell. But we're like perfect for each other. And we both knew that.

"hey, looks like ludo is all over him. You can bet the two of them won't get any sleep tonight," Blaise said next to me as he sat down. I looked at him and rolled my eyes.

"It won't be anything special. You know theo." I said and leaned my head on his shoulder as he leaned his head against me. He exhaled deeply as I bit my lips sadly.

"Yes and I know you, ari. You two are totally for each other again when you realise you can't do without each other" he said as I pushed him lightly and sighed.

"It won't happen this time, love isn't real. And I proved that live." I stood up straight again and got up from the couch as I turned to blaise.I pulled my skirt down a little as it always rides up and looked at blaise confidently.

"I'm telling you." Said blaise, raising his eyebrows as I turned sourly and walked towards the door. I had to pass theo and ludo as I looked at them in disgust. I opened the door when I heard blaise laughing.

-

I was lying in my bed reading my new book. The room was empty because everyone was going to the party that was taking place in Slytherin today. But I didn't want to go today, I just wasn't ready for it. I don't want to see Theodore, I hate him.

I was wearing a tank top and pyjama shorts as I turned the next page. It was evening and only my bedside light was on. But suddenly I heard a knock at the door. I furrowed my eyebrows and put my book aside as I got up from bed and walked to the door.

I was expecting onyx, as she often forgets things. So I didn't worry and didn't look in the peephole. But when I opened the door, I saw the most beautiful eyes I could remember, theodore nott.

He looked guilty, he was sad and leant against the doorframe as he looked at me. I rolled my eyes, looked to the side and crossed my arms in front of my chest. He cleared his throat as he stood upright and I looked at him again.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly and directly. I ran my hands through my hair as I looked directly at him. "I was such an arsehole." He said naturally and put his hands around my waist. I nodded and looked cocky. He laughed lightly as he came closer to me.

It wasn't the first time this had happened, it's about the same every time. He apologises, I forgive him and then we have brutal sex until I can't even remember about what we argued about.

"Do you forgive me?" He said as he smirked because he already knew the answer. And I knew it too, because it always happens. I can't say no, I'm like in a hole. I can't get out of it, so I took his jacket in my hand and pulled him into the room.

And we have incredible sex, as always. And it doesn't even have anything to do with romance, because he remains the arsehole he's always been. Because he always looks after himself.

#blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo zurzolo #timothee chalamet #tom riddle #baby netflix #brando de sanctis #draco malfoy #niccolo rossi #louis partridge

[redheadspark]

Winter Prompts, Round 1!

Hello my lovelies!

I hope you all are doing well in November and you have a great time with the Holidays this upcoming week!

I have a few new followers here on my blog: WELCOME! I'm so happy you're here and I hope you like what I write! If you ever get lost, come to the Navigation Page! I know December is not here yet, but I also know we are all going to be beyond busy when it's officially Christmas season next week, so I figure I can get a head start with a new Prompt Session! Now I will do TWO Sessions, not just one, and I'll make sure to do them right before we all travel to see loved ones for Christmas, so don't worry!!

This Prompt theme is:

Christmas and Winter Prompts 🎄🎁❄️

Here are my rules with this prompt sessions:

1.) You maybe chose ONE character from my list that I have Here . It’ll have the list of characters that I write for or have written for in the past.

*(If you have a character not listed that you wish for me to write, PLEASE MESSAGE ME AND CLEAR IT WITH ME FIRST TO SEE IF I CAN OR WILL DO IT!)*

2.) The Prompt list found below has two sections: Scenario and Dialogue. You may choose ONE FROM EACH, not two from one and two from another. Also, Please provide the number AND the line that you wish for me to write for you so I don't get confused!

*I write out the request I get as first come first serve. I will try my best to fulfill every request that comes my way, but please bear in mind I work full time as a teacher. Because of that, I’ll be busy most of the day so please be patient and I’ll write on my spare time as much as I can :) *

3.) You can request in my ASK box neither as yourself or anonymously. Although I would LOVE to give you a shout if you request as yourself, anon is perfectly fine!

4.) I will close this prompt session Sunday, November 27th, at 3:00 pm (Pacific Standard Time or California USA time).

5.) Have fun and enjoy! If you miss this request session, don't worry! I'll do another December Prompt session around December 4th!

*Prompts created by @mirclealignr* SCENARIOS;

Decorating the tree

Dancing in the snow

Present shopping

Gift giving

Wrapping gifts

Making a gingerbread house

Gingerbread house competition

Snowball fight

Sledging

Mistletoe

Christmas baking

Christmas market

Making snowmen

Christmas party

Watching Christmas movies

Dancing to Christmas music

Going ice skating

Christmas dinner

Making Christmas dinner

Fake dating for Christmas Ball

Secret Santa

Both reaching for the last cookie

Making Christmas decorations

New Years Countdown

NYE Party

DIALOGUES;

"Stop trying to get me to walk under the mistletoe.”

"That should be our Christmas card this year."

"Why'd you turn the music off?"

"I know we said no presents this year but..."

“I hate Christmas shopping.” - “I love Christmas shopping!”

“Do you want to put the star on the top of the tree?”

“What do you think? Like the tree?”

“Open your stocking!”

“It’s snowing!”

“What are you doing?” - “Making a snow angel.”

“Do people even use nutcrackers?”

“Do you still believe in Santa?”

“You’d make a cute elf.”

“Look! Reindeers!”

“Is that supposed to be a snowman?”

“Do you have any carrots?”

“This is the best gift you could’ve given me.”

“You have snow on your eyelashes, looks cute.”

“Come here by the fire.”

“Please don’t make me wear this, I look ridiculous.”

“You’ve really made my Christmas this year.”

“I thought you were going home for Christmas.” - “Well, I couldn’t leave you all alone.”

“I’m never letting you convince me to go carolling again.”

“Hey, if we don’t find someone by midnight…you and me…maybe?” - “Ask me properly and I might consider it.”

“Here, you can have one of my gloves.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Did you get us matching pyjamas?”

“You look so beautiful in the snow.”

“It’s bold of you to assume I haven’t eaten my entire advent calendar.”

“Christmas hot chocolate is not normal hot chocolate. Where are the marshmallows?”

“Smell this candle, it’s amazing.”

“Aren’t you going to write your letter to Santa?”

“I’ll let you sit on my knee.”

“You’re my Christmas angel.” - “Wow that was…intense.” - “Just take the compliment.”

“Will you be my new years kiss?”

“But I wanted to be Santa this year!”

“Did you make me a tinsel crown?”

“I can’t get the star on, would you give me a hand?”

“Looks like you’ve had a few drinks!” - “You haven’t had enough if you’re noticing. Come on, bar’s over there.”

“Will you make me a hot chocolate?” - “Name all the reindeer and I will.”

Once again, This Prompt Session will close at 3:00 PM PST on Sunday, November 27th.

Happy Writing!

Tagged: @a-lumos-in-the-nox @botanicalbarnes @heartofwritiing @basicrese @hottpinkpenguin @heliosphere8 @virtueassassin

#azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #druig x reader #eternals fanficiton #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #oliver wood x reader #harry potter fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #barry keoghan x reader #shang chi fanfiction #shang chi x reader #jack russell x reader #werewolf by night fanfiction

[unicyclehippo]

Follow up to the Robin and Hop convo?

‘do you - did i do something wrong?’

robin stares at little byers, confused. ‘what?’

he grimaces, stares down at the muddy tips of his shoes. ‘sorry, that’s stupid. i just wondered, because you - you left really quick last week. and i thought maybe...’ he trails off, offers a little shrug.

robin twirls her pen around her fingers. once, twice. ‘no. you didn’t.’

will peeks up at her through his bangs, eyes searching. whatever he sees makes him relax, a deep held breath escaping him, and his grip relaxing on the strap of his backpack. ‘oh. okay. good!’ he smiles, ducks his chin to hide it. a moment later, he looks up again. ‘then, is everything alright?’

‘all good, little byers.’

will frowns at her, uncertain. she thought she’d nailed lazy, bored, unconcerned, but apparently not. still, sweet kid that he is, he nods.

‘okay. good. um - in that case, we wanted - the party, but mostly el, not that the rest of us didn’t want to invite you but el was really insistent -‘

‘spit it out, kid.’

he rolls his eyes at her but stops his rambling obediently, pulling his backpack off one shoulder to reach into its front pocket. from it, he removes a carefully folded flyer, which he hands over. ‘el wants to invite you to her birthday.’

robin takes the folded paper between two fingers. she doesn’t read it yet, just holds it, and quirks a brow. ‘didn’t know you’d been hired as our local delivery man. good for you.’

he rolls his eyes again and ducks out of the way of her hand when she goes to ruffle his hair. ‘so? will you come?’

robin gives a noncommittal hum. unfolds the paper oh so slowly, mostly to make him squirm with impatience. she can’t help but smile, though, seeing the detail el—and no doubt will too—has put into the invite.

‘robin buckley,’ she reads, ‘you are cordially invited to attend the birthday celebrations of jane hopper—‘

‘that’s el’s legal name,’ will supplies.

‘—july first.’ robin hums. ‘her birthday is july first? that’s cool, like exactly halfway?’

will beams. ‘it’s not actually, she’s got two birthdays—when her mum, y’know, had her,’ he says awkwardly, making robin snort at his typical boyish aversion to the topic, ‘and what doctor owens put on her certificate. but we didn’t really get to have a party this year, either of us, so we thought it would be funny.’

robin flips the page over, scans it again. ‘please bring a swimming costume and pyjamas if you want to stay for the sleepover. where’s your name?’ when will just shrugs, robin presses a little harder. ‘if you’re having a joint birthday party, you got to invite people, right?’

‘we kinda have all the same friends.’

‘and you’re doing something you like doing?’

will just shrugs. ‘yeah, of course.’

robin narrows her eyes until he takes a nervous step back. she lays the invite down carefully, and points a warning finger directly at him. ‘what’s going on?’

‘what?’

‘what’s going on? in your brain. because i’m hearing that it’s a shared party but what i’m seeing is that it’s jane’s party.’

his fingers twist into the straps of his backpack. ‘well, it’s - ugh. fine. don’t tell her, okay? i suggested that we have a party but it’s not really for me. i got to have a party with mum and jonathan so really it’s so el can celebrate now that hopper is home. it’s…different. getting to celebrate with your dad,’ he tells her softly, eyes distant.

it’s robin’s turn to duck her head, not sure what will would be able to see on her face but not wanting to risk him seeing anything at all. she taps her pen against the corner of the invitation. nods. ‘that’s really sweet. but unfortunately, it’s incredibly obvious that you’re doing it all for el and if you don’t want to get rumbled—‘

‘rumbled?’

‘discovered! your plans revealed by someone else! honestly, what are they teaching you in californian schools, you don’t know the word rumbled?’

he laughs. ‘are you sure it’s a real word?’

‘i’m going to ignore that in favour of staying on track,’

‘first time for everything, i guess,’ he interjects, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

‘you, sir william, are spending far too much time with mike, that little shit.’ that surprises a laugh from will, and she takes the momentary pause to tell him, ‘pick your favourite movie. right now.’

‘what? why?’

‘so you don’t get rumbled. honestly,’ she mutters, ‘it’s like you weren’t even listening. you’re going to tell me what it is, and your favourite movie snacks, because no sleepover is complete without movie and movie snacks. if you have something you can say you picked and want to do, then it seems more like a shared party, don’t you think? and el won’t be suspicious?’

will tilts his head. after a watchful moment, he says, ‘it kind of just seems like you want to make sure i have fun,’ far too direct, far too earnest for not quite ten in the morning.

she scoffs. ‘i just can’t stand a half-baked plan. movie. snacks.’

shoving her pen into his hand, robin scrounges up some receipt paper for him to write on. he does, smiling the whole time.

‘does this mean you’ll come?’ he asks, bent over the counter as he works on his list.

robin pauses. did it mean that? she doesn’t want to say no and let down el or will, but on the other hand—hopper will be there. that’s obviously the entire point of the party, as will said, so there’s no way that he won’t be. she fiddles with her rings, twisting the heavy one on her thumb, and only stops when she feels will very slowly and carefully touch her hand. he pulls his hand back immediately with a,

‘sorry! sorry. you, um, zoned out.’

robin shakes her head. ‘it’s fine.’ to prove it, she pats him on the shoulder.

he smiles but his eyes are dark with worry. ‘you don’t have to come. el wants you there because she loves girls—‘ he laughs when robin raises a brow. ‘she thinks nancy is so pretty and smart and follows her around.’

‘good taste,’ robin nods approvingly.

‘and she thinks you’re so cool,’ he says, dropping into what is obviously an impression of his sister, eyes wide. robin laughs, but can’t deny being a little flattered, even if will is joking. ‘it’s kind of a girls day, actually - the pool party, i think it’s you and nancy and el and max, but i told mike what was going on so we’re probably going to crash the party.’

‘naturally.’

‘but, you don’t have to come,’ he says again.

robin’s smile twists into place. ‘no, it’s - of course i will. can i-‘ she pauses. tries to figure out a way to phrase this so will doesn’t worry. ‘can i ask you something? about chief hopper?’

will frowns and nods.

‘he’s - what’s he like? because he seems sort of…’

‘over protective?’ will suggests, and shrugs. ‘he’s nice, i guess? he makes my mum happy.’ as soon as he says it, he flushes pink. ‘um, i don’t think they’ve told anyone.’

‘it’s obvious to literally everyone. max knows, and she’s mostly blind,’ robin points out casually, and doesn’t flinch at the reminder of the hurt her friend has been through. will’s face falls. ‘okay. overprotective but nice. good. cool. good to know.’

will nods. he looks confused by the question but doesn’t press, instead looking down at el’s invitation and back at her with hope brimming in his wide eyes. ‘so? can i tell her you’ll come?’

robin sighs. ‘yeah. yes, i’ll come to her party. but you have to come with me to find her a present.’

‘deal!’ he hoots, and practically bounces out the door. she hears him yell to someone before it swings shut behind him. ‘she said yes! she’s coming!’

robin groans. slips back into her seat. great.

#3blts #st tag #robin my beloved #tagging my stories #prompt fill #will my beloved

[mythicalwindss]

𓍢ִ໋❀⋆☼ how i perceive jily (christmas version)𓍢ִ໋❀⋆☼

happy birthday nooters!! hope you enjoy<3 @everwalldigan

⋆𖤓⋆ james fleamont potter:

- he/him

- pansexual

- aries

˚✿˖ lily josephine evans:

- she/her

- bisexual

- capricorn

˚𓍢ִ໋❀⋆☼

lily and james would always host christmas at their place, they’d make sure they were stocked up on snacks, drinks, hot chocolate, and blankets.

every year, on christmas eve, they would always have new pyjamas waiting for the others to change into, they were always christmas themed. they would always watch christmas films, play christmas games, talk about their time at hogwarts and share new life goals. by the end of the night, everyone would be sat in the living room, by the fire, all cozy in their christmas pjs, hot chocolate and biscuit in hand, talking about anything and everything.

on christmas day, everyone would wake up with presents and stockings filled, and everyone will sit around the fireplace in the morning opening their gifts from one another. once all the gift openings were done, james and lily would go and prepare food with effie, they’d make all kinds of food (mostly party food) so they can have at least one thing that everyone likes on the table. lily and effie would make gingerbread cookies every year, and sometimes even have competitions on who can make the most gingerbread.

james loves decorating all the cakes and cookies, he’d wait around and watch lily and effie make everything and as soon as they were done with one thing, he’d immediately go and get ready to decorate it. they would never have a christmas dinner on christmas day, instead, they’d have it on the 26th, so it’s friends only + effie and monty, and they can have christmas dinner as a family.

⋆𖤓⋆

james would always know what to get lily, he’d plan everything MONTHS AND MONTHS before christmas. if lily said she liked a scarf once in a passing comment, james will go home, write it down, and then get it for her. lily would be shocked that james remembered she said she liked something one time. he would always get their friends something that mattered to them and they will keep that forever, like the one time he brought sirius his first pair of docs, and he didn’t want new ones until james forced him to because the shoes were falling apart or the time he got marlene a moth ring, and she has never taken it off since, because rings are their favourite jewellery piece and moths are her favourite animal. he remembers the littlest things about his friends and buys them these things in gift form.

˚✿˖

lily is a maker, she writes, draws, paints, makes everything and anything. she will spend weeks and months making something for all her friends. she once took three months to paint mary’s favourite flower, and took weeks making dorcas a jewellery stand. she has bound countless books for her friends (most of them being for remus), where she paints the covers and pages to match the books, she would also make matching bookmarks and annotating bags for those who like to annotate their books. she has made james many glasses cases, each one having some sort of deer on it as she knows that prongs means so much to him, which makes james fall more and more in love with her (like he isn’t already deeply in love with her anyway).

˚❀　.　˚　　✦　　✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.　˚　　❀

#jily #lily evans #james potter #the marauders #the marauders era #jily christmas

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

New video tiktok from Luke Arnold! He reads "The House of Sundering Flames" by Aliette de Bodard for the First Page of Pyjama Party.

#black sails #luke arnold #john silver #the house of sundering flames #aliette de bodard #first page of pyjama party #pyjama party

[alloftheimagines]

billy hargrove | i need my girl

masterlist | request

words: 3k

warnings: sexual harassment, mentions of domestic abuse, billy being a drunk asshole (with an apology), strong language, alcohol, smoking, relationship angst, brief mention of reader having period cramps and brief mention of fatphobia.

prompt: Reader finds out that Billy get stuck at a party and reader had to drive to her house so he doesn't get in trouble by his father. Billy say some mean thing to reader while being drunk.

AN: I've been listening to "I Need My Girl" by the National A LOT and somehow this ended up fitting right in with the prompt. just in case you like music with your fics!

You’re in your bedroom when he calls you, your pink telephone ringing. You’ve been expecting it. Nobody ever calls you on a Saturday night. Nobody but him. You’ve been waiting, anxious, because he’s at a party and you’re not, and you know what he’s like when he drinks too much.

“Hello?” you answer upon picking up, slipping a bookmark between the pages you’d been reading and crossing your legs.

Billy’s voice is slurred and gravelly on the other side as he yells, “Shut the fuck up. Shut up. I can’t hear my girl.”

You roll your eyes, though the term of endearment warms your chest.

“Babe?” he asks finally, and you imagine him swaying by the telephone, or maybe draped across a couch. You hear the sound of laughter in the background and wonder what kind of fun he’s been having tonight. Whether he misses you, or if the loud music is enough to drown you out of his thoughts for hours on end. Not like you. You’ve been worrying, imagining, all evening. It’s been a rough week with his dad, and Billy needed desperately to blow off steam, he said.

You never dare ask what "blowing off steam" consists of—not when he does it in the likes of Carol’s house, with prettier, popular girls. Not that you don’t trust him. You just know how he loses his head to impulse and self-destruction when he’s struggling. Worse when he’s drunk. Trying to talk him out of it only makes him feel smothered. He needs his space, and you have to live with that.

“What’s up, Billy?” You sigh and push the book away, rubbing your tired eyes.

“Not annoyed at me, are ya?” he asks. “Don’t be like that, baby. Don’t be grumpy.”

“I’m not. Just tired.”

“Oh, c’mon. You’re missin’ me. You can admit it.” It feels like he’s rubbing it in. Because all you wanted tonight was to stay in, rent a movie, and eat popcorn in his arms. But he hadn’t wanted to. He rarely does. Where you’re an introvert through and through, he only wants to jump from one rowdy moment to the next, never staying still for long enough to think, feel. And sometimes, you wonder if it’s because you’re not really what he wants. He claims to like your bookish, softer side, the fact you’re not like the other idiots he hangs out with—and yet when it comes down to it, he always chooses to hang out with them before you.

“Look, I’m about to go to sleep, so—”

“No, no, no,” he protests. “You can’t sleep. I need you…need you t’pick me up.”

You sigh and check the clock on your bedside table. It’s two am, you’re in your pyjamas, and you're suffering from a mean case of period cramps. Going out to pick up your drunken boyfriend is the last thing you want to do. “I can’t. It’s late. Can’t you catch a ride?”

“No. No. I can’t go home tonight.” Sadness shimmers in his tone. “Neil’ll kill me if he sees me drunk.”

“Then stay at Carol’s for the night. I’m sure she won’t mind.” It's petty, even for you, and you hate to be the jealous girlfriend.

His irritated huff crackles down the line. “I wanna see you. Wanna stay with you. C’mon, babe.”

You close your eyes, pain lancing through your chest. He knows you can’t deny him when he pleads with you like a desperate child. “Alright. I’ll be there soon.”

“Great. You’re the best.”

“Billy—”

He’s already hung up, leaving you to talk to an empty, droning receiver.

You slam it down and pull on the first clothes you find, exhausted and already dreading what you’ll find when you get to the party.

***

For good reason. As soon as you get out of the car, you hear the screeches of drunks twirling around the garden, abandoning empty beer cans and cigarette butts. Music blares from inside, silhouettes dancing in the window against flashing lights. Billy isn’t anywhere outside, which only makes things worse.

You steel yourself before stepping in, crossing your arms over your chest, since you didn’t have time to so much as put a bra on beneath your loose sweater. Your car keys jingle in your hand, your only comfort when sour, alcohol-laced breath wafts around you and bodies bump into you. “Hey, you’re Hargrove’s girl,” one of them mutters.

“Not for much longer,” you reply through gritted teeth. Not if this becomes a habit.

It’s Carol you stumble across first, bleary-eyed and smirking. “Lookin’ for Billy?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“He’s got you on a tight leash.” She sneers, looking you up and down before pointing to the couch. “Over there.”

Anger pricks through you, but you take a deep breath and march over to the couch without another word. A reaction is what they want, and they won’t get one from you.

Billy lays sprawled on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in his hands and his eyes unfocused. His face is slick with sweat, his torso bare and his T-shirt and jacket strewn on the floor. He attempts to sit up when he sees you, eyes brightening. “Baaaaabe. You came for me.”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, picking up his abandoned clothes. “Put your shirt on.”

“Uh-oh. She’s moody,” he pretends to whisper to the boy beside him, Tommy, who laughs as his eyes rake across you with something you don’t like.

“Isn’t she always? You picked the most uptight bitch in Hawkins.” He nudges Billy as if he’s in on the joke, and he laughs just to prove it.

It stings. Burns. You didn’t come here to be mocked by your boyfriend’s friends. You came here to take him home. “You wanna walk home?” you ask him, voice clipped.

“Now look.” Billy pulls his shirt on inside out, an oily smile on his face. “You poked the bear. She’s gonna be a pain in my ass all night.”

It isn’t just the words that make your stomach twist, but the way he’s talking about you as though you aren’t even there. You get enough of it at school. You shouldn’t have to endure it now, too. Not from him. He can be hot-headed, loud, and you’re patient because you know it’s a result of his father, but this…this is different. This is dehumanising. It makes you feel so small, you want to disappear.

You can’t even walk out. Not with Billy in this state, his eyes hooded and his limbs clumsy. He could run out into the road or pass out, choke on his own vomit, anything. And you know even now, deep in your heart, that he wouldn’t have called you tonight if he didn’t need to. It’s not something he makes a habit of, and not just because his friends like to poke fun.

So you just stand and you take it, offering your hand. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

“Yeah, Billy. Do what your mom says. Off you go.” Tommy slaps his shoulder in jest as Billy attempts to haul himself off the couch. In the end, he only ends up pulling you back down with him, his unstable weight too much for you to bear on your own. You end up on his lap with an “oof.”

“On second thought, she’s got a pretty nice ass, huh?” A hand lands on your rear end, and it isn’t Billy’s. “Let me know when you’re done with her. I wouldn’t mind a go myself.” Tommy is chortling like a five-year-old as you slap him away, your cheeks turning a furious shade of red.

And Billy…you see the anger, the clarity, seep into his hazy eyes. See him stagger up off the couch. See him grab Tommy by the collar of his shirt, pinning him to the couch. “The fuck did you say?”

“Woah. Chill out,” Tommy says, eyes wide and his smug smirk long gone. “I was just messin’ around.”

“Yeah? Well you can go mess around with yourself. Don’t fuckin’ touch my girl. Asshole.” Billy is trembling, and you swallow as fear rises in you.

“Billy,” you whisper, attempting to pry him away before a punch is thrown. “Please. Let’s just go home.” Tears flood your vision when you realise everyone is watching. You’ve been humiliated by every single person in this room, including the only man you thought you could trust.

Billy doesn’t let go. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, rage tightening the tendons in his wrists, his knuckles turning white around Tommy’s shirt.

“Billy,” you beg again. “Please. I want to go home.” Your voice cracks pathetically, and you hate yourself for it.

But Billy loosens his grip slowly, the vein in his forehead throbbing. “Don’t even look at her again, or I swear to god, I’ll kill you.”

Tommy only lifts his hands in surrender, pale and shaken.

“Come on,” you murmur, dragging Billy by the arm. He follows, stumbling until he slips his arm around you just to keep himself upright. Your teeth clench with the effort it takes to guide him out of the house, glad when the fresh air hits your clammy face.

“What a fuckin’ dick,” Billy is mumbling in your ear. “I shouldn’t have come to this fuckin’ party. I hate that guy, Y/N.”

Finally, you reach your car, pulling open the passenger door and throwing Billy in with little tenderness. You slam the door on him, anger still rippling through you as you round the bonnet and slip into the driver’s side.

“Woah, woah,” he winces, “What’s with the slammin’ doors?”

You can’t say anything. If you do, you’ll explode, and there’s no use having an argument with him when he’s like this. Instead, you turn on the radio, fist the steering wheel with shaking hands, and drive.

“What, you’re not talking to me now?” He pokes you in your ribs, teasing, but you keep your glare on the road ahead. “Oh, c’mon. You know I hate the silent treatment.”

And you can’t help it. You explode. You veer off the road, coming to a halt by the tree line so you can face him properly. “You know what I hate, Billy? I hate being humiliated in front of everybody. I hate being talked about like I’m not there. Like I’m just the butt of your shitty fucking jokes. Like you don’t even want to be with me. I hate feeling like a piece of fucking shit because I came to get you, to help you, when you asked me to.”

He blinks, tucking his chin into his chest and sighing. “I know. And Tommy was way out of line—”

“I’m not talking about Tommy!” you scream—and regret it instantly when he flinches. He hates shouting. Hates being shouted at. You know that. You’re just so fucking angry, so hurt. You sigh; scrape your hand across your face before continuing, quieter. “I’m talking about you. The way you spoke to me, the way you laughed at his jokes. It felt…” your eyes well with tears, and you clutch your chest as though there’s a knife there, because that’s what it feels like. You’ve lived your entire life this way, getting nothing but laughed at by your parents, siblings, friends. For being too nerdy, too chubby, too everything. Everyone treats you like you're nothing. You just never thought he would, too. But he’s looking at you like you’re speaking a different language, a stray curl falling into his eyes, and you know it’s useless trying to make him understand. So you shake your head and focus on the road again. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Let’s just go home.”

“Y/N…”

You turn the radio back on to drown him out, but it does nothing to staunch your tears. You feel his gaze on you the entire time, and it only makes it worse, until soon your bottom lip is wobbling and you have to clamp down on it, have to wipe the tears from your eyes so the lights around you are no longer blurred.

“Shit,” Billy mumbles finally.

It’s all he says until you pull up in front of your house. Your bedroom light is still on, while the rest of the street is pitch-black.

You shut off the engine, exhausted and numb, and unfasten your belt. But when you try to get out, his fingers curl around your wrist, keeping you there.

You can’t look at him yet, so you look at the garden path behind him.

“Baby,” he says softly. “I’ve fucked up. I know. I know I have.”

You can’t argue with that.

Frustratedly, he scrapes his hair back. “I shouldn’t have made those bullshit jokes. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know why I do a lot of things.”

More tears, this time flowing faster, rolling down your jaw, your neck, dripping onto your sweater. Your ass still burns from the feeling of Tommy’s hand. “You know, he wouldn’t have touched me like that if you hadn’t laughed at me first. When you treat me like that, you’re telling him it’s okay to treat me like that, too. That I’m just a joke to you.”

“You know you’re not.” He brings your hand to his lips; kisses the back of it, and then your thumb ring and your knuckles, so soft and bearing no resemblance at all to the man at the party. He stinks of alcohol, and it means nothing. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

You pull your hand away, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes and sniffing. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No.” His brows furrow. “No. No. Don’t…please don’t. I said I’m sorry. Please don’t…please don’t leave me.”

Surprise flutters through you. You tilt your head. “What?”

“You can’t break up with me. You can’t.” He shakes his head, his own eyes glossy now, and no longer just with the booze. Fear is written all over his face. Fear like you’ve never seen before, even after Neil's beatings. “I know I fucked up. I know. I know. But we can fix it. I can fix it. I swear to god I can.”

“I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just upset. I’m upset, Billy, and I can’t talk to you when you’re drunk because I don’t think you understand why.”

“I do. I do understand. I was a fucking shit. I was so…god, I felt like him.” His upper lip curls with contempt, and you know who he’s talking about. His dad. “You deserve so much better than that.”

You press your head against the cool window, closing your eyes so you don’t have to look at his broken features anymore. You hear the click of him unfastening his seatbelt, and then the weight of his rough hands on your thigh as he shuffles closer. “It’s worse ‘cos I missed you so fuckin’ bad tonight. Kept thinking about how I could have just been home with you, but I was out gettin’ wasted, acting like a prick instead. And I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’m ruining the only good thing I have. And I don’t know why you’re still with me.”

You know he’d never say these things if he was sober, never admit them. But you also know they’re true, because he isn’t in the habit of being vulnerable like this unless he really means it.

“I’m with you because I love you," you say. "I just…I just sometimes wonder if you feel the same. If we’re right for each other. I’m never going to dance with you at a party or get wasted. I’m never going to like your friends, especially not now.”

“He’s not my friend.” It was practically a growl. “And you’re wrong.” He squeezes your leg. “You’re the only good thing I have. You’re my girl. I need you. I’ll do better. I will. I swear to fuckin’ god, I will.”

You don’t reply; don’t know what to say. You want so badly to believe him, but you don’t know if it’s enough anymore.

Until he says, “I don’t think I know. Y’know. How to have a good thing without destroying it. I’m so scared of…of losing you. Of being like him. And I think tonight I was waitin’ to see how far you’d go. How much you’d take. Like I wanted to show you the worst part of me, the ugliest parts. Maybe I wanted to drive you away now so you wouldn't leave me later. But I never meant for it to get that bad. I never, ever want you to be hurt, not by me or anyone else. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I just—”

“It does make sense,” you croak finally, letting your hand wander back into his.

“I’m fucked up, Y/N.”

A tear rolls down his cheek. You swipe it away with the pad of your thumb. “Maybe I am, too. ‘Cos it was so goddamn easy for me to fall apart tonight. To feel like nothing. And maybe I was expecting that, too. That you’d realise sooner or later I’m not what you want. That I’m…” Your chin quivers.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so delicately it makes you feel like precious glass. “You’re all I want. You are.” He rests his forehead against yours. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and you don’t mind anymore, because it’s him, and you love him, and you forget sometimes how fragile this thing is between you. How easily one of you could break it. And perhaps how you’ve both been waiting for it to break, somehow.

But in the dark silence of the car, your hands locked together and your tears mingling, you forge it into something stronger.

“It won’t happen again. It won’t,” he promises.

“It can’t,” you reply, because it’s true. You’ll allow one mistake, one bad night, but your heart won’t take much more. Not like that, anyway.

“It won’t,” he repeats, brushing his lips against the tip of your nose. He doesn’t try to go further, doesn’t try to kiss you, and you’re glad. He’s drunk and you're tired, and you just need him to be gentle with you. “It won’t.”

You end up falling asleep with him like that in the car, uncomfortable but safe again, nestled against his chest. And in the morning, Billy’s grovelling begins.

#billy imagine #billy x reader #billy #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #imagines #request an imagine #fandom imagines #x reader imagines #imagines masterlist #multifandom imagines #masterlist #multi fandom imagines #multifandom #x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy one shot #billy fic #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove one shot #strangerthings #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader

[e-spits]

latched on - lee juyeon

words: 4.8k

genre: smut

warnings yandere!juyeon, dubious consent, knives, all around filth

The pressure balancing college and a social life was difficult. Classes were long and overbearing, the workload heavy to carry and parties or events were almost impossible to fit into your schedule. You rarely attended any social events, rarely met up with anyone aside your roommate if it weren’t to study in a café. And meeting new people was essentially a no go. Your roommate had tried tirelessly to get you out of your tight shell, dragging you to different parties but even when she was successful, you mind was absent. Too worried about the commitments you were neglecting. You did try to engage but what was important was getting through college though it didn’t stop your friend from trying.

On one Friday night, your roommate had selected a particularly rowdy party for you to attend. She smothered you in the dorm, soothing over your complexion with makeup and applying bright colours to your skin. You knew you didn’t dress up much but with the effort she was making, you knew her intentions were less than pure. It was too much effort to fight back and so you allowed it, even letting her loan you a strapless, skin-tight dress that blinded you with its red colour. Your roommate stood back, admiring her handy work, and grinning from ear to ear.

‘It’s beautiful.’ You mumbled, turning to examine your reflection in the mirror, eyes skimming over your own figure as though it were a mannequin. You did look nice but why. ‘What’s it for?’ You finally asked.  

Your roommate giggled below her breathe.

‘What?’

‘Don’t be mad.’ She continued, wandering over and placing her hands on your shoulders.

‘About?’

‘So, there’s this really hot guy in my class and I figured, you know since I’m already dating someone, maybe you could go for it. We both know you should.’

Your eyes narrowed toward the other girl, hands hitching themselves on your hips. ‘How cute?’

‘Like, fucking hot, okay, trust me.’ She nodded frantically, your stomach tightening. ‘Besides, it’ll be a step up from that stalker of yours.’ Your roommate laughed loudly, nausea filling your gut at the mere mention of the stalker, the so-called, not so secret admirer.

Three months ago, a letter had arrived at your doorstep. It was in ink of your favourite colour, the words like artwork or poetry. The writer had noted all the things they claimed to love about you, all the things they had noticed while watching you around campus. It was juvenile, strange but sweet, just a secret admirer like you imagined lots of people had. And then they became more frequent. Every few days another letter would appear outside your dorm room, full of more romantic rambling that made you only slightly uncomfortable at the time.

And then came the wave of presents, the many, many presents. Flowers, chocolates, clothes, brand new textbooks you’d been eyeing at the campus shop. It was then you knew you were being watched, surveyed, and documented. Your roommate found it hilarious, sharing your abundance of gifts and noting how even her boyfriend didn’t do this for her. A part of you liked being admired, liked the attention and romantic writings that came with being observed. However, the thrill of it dissipated when gradually, it became more intense.

The letters became several pages long, the handwriting descending into scribbles. And the longer they became the more descriptive, more explicit they were. You began not reading them, skimming the filthy intentions the writer had with a casual eye before throwing them out. Giving the presents to your roommate instead of indulging them. It all seemed like a prank, some kind of joke someone was playing, not an admirer at all. Your roommate insisted it was likely a horny, frat boy, obsessing over conquering a girl who had no interest in being conquered though it felt like more. The words eventually became heavier, threats beginning to soak in as the writer laid out their violent plans. You didn’t show anyone those letter, you didn’t want anyone to worry and so you carried it all by yourself.

This boy would probably be a step up.

The house was large, full of people and booming with music. All it made you think was how you’d rather be home, in pyjamas, watching sitcoms and studying. Your roommate shimmied you into the building, holding your hand as she pushed you through the crowds. Bodies brushed against your bare thighs as you picked up a couple drinks and eventually you made it to a particularly quiet stop in the corner couch of the lounge. You found yourself surveying the crowds, eyes clinging to each male face, wondering which one was the one your roommate had mentioned. And if maybe, your stalker was also here, hiding between the faces in the hubbub.

Your roommate nudged your ribcage, mumbling something beneath her breath before her eyes lit up, mouth spread in a wild grin.

‘He’s here?’

She merely gestured her head forward, yours following the motion. At first, you couldn’t see him but then through the huddle of people, one was clearly approaching. His face was warm, eyes bright, his smile so dazzling you couldn’t see anything else. Your friend was right, he was hot, insanely so but you still couldn’t pay attention fully. You were too busy being afraid your stalker may see you with someone else and carry out those plans he’d detailed.

The boy wandered over to you and your friend, pushing in and sitting between you two. Your roommate laughed lightly, giving you a certain look before she stood up from the couch. She wiggled her eyebrows at the boy and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you all alone. You looked over at him, his figure only inches from you, his expression covered in even more worry than yours.

‘Hi.’ You finally broke the silence.

‘Um, hi. I hope you don’t mind this, it’s just, your friend mentioned she wanted me to meet you, and I, I can see why.’

Your cheeks burnt. ‘It doesn’t bother me.’

‘Cool,’ he was grinning wildly, ‘I just, I think I’ve seen you around campus before, I don’t think I could forget anyone as gorgeous as you.’

A chuckle passed your lips, the boy taking a sip from his own drink as you did from yours. The thick, hot liquid rolled down your throat, worry beginning to subside the more drink you gulped.

‘I’m Juyeon, by the way.’

‘It’s nice to meet you, Juyeon.’

Though earlier you were wishing to go home, now all you wanted to do was sit in the crowded room and talk to this boy all night. Wishing everyone else could leave so you could hear every inflection in his honied voice. The more words that poured from his mouth, the more you forgot about the comfort of your dorm, instead, all your focus was on him. Juyeon charmed you relentlessly, dousing you in compliments but underneath the obvious flirting, he had substance. He spoke eloquently, voice soft and polite no matter what he said. He clearly knew a lot about the things he spoke of, which only made you more enthused to talk to him.

The party rolled on as did your conversation, Juyeon inching closer to you as his confidence settled in. While he was lovely and beautiful, you still didn’t want to engage in hooking up at a party, only to never see someone again. You knew boys all too well, they were charming when they were or weren’t interested and you hated the thought of the latter. With each subtle move he made, you slid away, wishing you could speak candidly without the distraction of his lips. You wanted him to kiss you, but you didn’t want him to be disappointed.

His hand reached over and smoothed over yours, thumb stroking the back of your hand. The warmth he emitted was intoxicating and it took everything not to melt into it. Juyeon was unfazed as though he hadn’t noticed your reservations at all, still moving in dangerously close. His mouth was only an inch or so from yours, his hot breath fanning your blushed cheeks. Your eyes closed for a moment, considering allowing contact to be made but as you felt acceptance greet you, a voice interrupted. Your roommate stood in front of the couch; eyes wide as she visibly regretted interrupting.

‘I’m sorry, I just, I wanted to check in, I’m pretty fucking tired if I’m being honest.’ She chuckled, smile dissipating quickly as she folded her arms.

Juyeon remained silent, sinking back into his original position while gulping down the rest of his drink.

‘It’s fine,’ you turned to the boy beside you, ‘it was really nice meeting you Juyeon, I, um, I’ll see around.’

He said nothing, leaving you to stand up and wander off in silence, taking your roommate’s hand and letting her guide you outside. You began meandering through the dark streets, your friend beginning to laugh hysterically.

‘God, I’m so sorry, you just, and he,’ she cut herself off with a loud giggle.

‘Shut up!’ You laughed back.

‘He was so mad.’

‘I think he was just annoyed he didn’t get any, it’s fine honestly. Besides, he’s so hot he can be mad if he wants.’ You giggled, wrapping your arm around your friend as you continued your way home.

‘Wait, are you whipped for someone? After one night, what’s gotten into you.’ She tilted her head down, eyes wide toward you as you found yourself smiling nonchalantly.

‘No, not him, thanks to you.’ She sighed as you spoke.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled dramatically, ‘there are other parties you can fuck at, don’t worry. Now, hurry up, I’m so tired.’

The dorm was silent when you arrived, darkness swirling around the space. Your roommate quickly dived into her bed, falling asleep almost immediately leaving you to roam your thoughts. As you did, you felt a little relieved the moment had been interrupted, that way, Juyeon might still be interested. Instead of being disappointed or bored, he know had to continue the chase and that meant he definitely would want to see you again. You smiled to yourself, cheeks hot at just the thought of the boy you’d spent hours talking to. Sleep eventually overwhelmed you, eyes heavy as you curled up in bed, still in your dress and fell asleep.

It was still night when your eyes were shocked open, a cold, metal sensation running over your neck. Pressure appeared upon the warm skin, your eyes wildly searching the room before you realised what was happening. Someone was kneeling against your arms, their legs either side of your torso though the room was so dark you couldn’t make out their face. You wriggled underneath the weight, but it was pointless. Your head snapped toward your roommate’s bed, it was empty, duvet thrown on the floor in a heap. Where was she? What was happening? A knife was pressed against your throat, the sharp metal grazing the sensitive skin.

‘Please, please don’t.’ You cried out, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks and splash onto the pillows beneath.

The figure above shifted slightly, their free hand reaching over and switching on your lamp. A yellow light danced across the room, your eyes adjusting quickly before realising who was threatening you. Juyeon. The same gummy smile, the same honey skin, the same big, bright eyes but now they were much darker. Something had consumed him, something dark.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Shh, shh, it’s okay baby, don’t worry. I don’t want to hurt you, I really don’t.’ Juyeon dragged the thick blade down your neck, letting it sit on your collarbone.

‘What’s happening, where’s my roommate?’

‘She’s fine,’ he rolled his eyes, ‘I just had to get her out of here, can’t have her interrupting again. Not when I, not when I got so, so close.’

‘I don’t understand.’ You cried.

‘Yes, you do.’ Juyeon smiled menacingly, pushing the knife into your skin ever so slightly. You could feel a droplet of blood roll down your neck, a tinge of pain rolling through your body.

His words didn’t make sense for a few moments, your mind racing through every word he’d said earlier in the night. He’d been so nice, so eloquent, so charming, and now he was so angry, so scary, so threatening. Just like your admirer. Just like your admirer… And then it dawned on you, Juyeon was your admirer, your stalker. It suddenly made so much sense, his entire demeanour created to lure you in, just like the letters and gifts had been.

‘It was you.’ You uttered in defeat, head sinking into the pillow as you gave in. Juyeon laughed, his smile transforming into a wild grin.

‘You were lovely last night, it was lovely. God, I couldn’t have planned for it better, we just, we clicked. If it hadn’t have been for that bitch of a roommate, fuck, all the things we would’ve done. We’d still be fucking now. But it’s okay, now I know you like me back, we can be together.’

‘You’re hurting me.’ You mumbled, trying to wriggle your neck away from the knife. Juyeon tilted his head, his free hand brushing through your locks, twisting around the hair softly. His fingers began stroking your face, travelling across to where the knife had nicked your skin. Another drop fell onto his thumb, the digit raising as he placed it in his mouth. Juyeon closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the metallic taste before he leant down.

You could feel his hot breath over your face, his mouth only inches from yours. The cool metal of the knife disappeared from your throat, Juyeon leaning down and replacing the sharp blade with his lips. His mouth wrapped around the small wound, tongue soothing over the skin. You closed your eyes tightly, beginning to try and move when he became distracted. Lifting your arms, you began trying to push the man away though it didn’t take long for him to notice. His lips left your body, sighing as he realised you were still trying to get away.

‘Hey, hey, you liked me earlier. Why it that different now? Now you know that I’ve loved you for months, it should be better, right? You know how much I want you. Don’t you?’

Your stomach tightened, realising there was no way out, you began to listen to him seriously. Juyeon had certainly showed he cared, and he was okay earlier, he was lovely earlier. That part of him had to be in there somewhere, maybe if you went along with his actions, that part of him would come back. Perhaps you could draw it out. You let out a deep breath, staring up at the boy knelt atop your arms.

‘I know,’ you mumbled, nodding, ‘I know.’

His mouth began leaning down again, yours leaving the pillow to meet his lips. Juyeon let his mouth press onto you strongly, engulfing you in the kiss before deepening it. You did nothing to fight back instead closing your eyes and letting yourself enjoy the touches.

It felt wrong that you were allowing him to do such a thing so tentatively, especially when he’d done nothing to deserve it. But when Juyeon forced his tongue into your mouth and let the muscle explore your wet skin, it was impossible not to give in. Your head tilted back in pleasure, the boy suddenly pulling away and immediately attacking your neck with kisses and small bites. He did this for a few minutes, his body becoming so entranced in the motions that he let your arms out from beneath him. However, you found yourself motionless still, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of Juyeon nibbling at your neck.

The boy moved down your body, lips staying on your skin, as they travelled to your chest. Juyeon poked his tongue out, licking at the skin closest to your covered breasts before he looked up at you. His eyebrows furrowed together, body lifting as he peered down to your free hands then back up to your face. After a moment, you noticed he was no longer touching you and opened your eyes. Juyeon was hovering above you once more, face tightened in thought before he grabbed your hands again. His grip was harsh, like it had been with the knife, which he’d long ago forgotten. You tried to wriggle away from instinct but found it impossible beneath his strength, instead having your wrists moved to above your head. For a moment, you thought he was returning to how he’d been, however when he began tying your wrist to the bedpost, you knew he wasn’t quite there yet.

You were unsure where he’d gotten the tie but assumed he’d brought them along with him. Perhaps he’d expected you to fight it more, but he already had a certain control you didn’t understand.

After tugging on the tie, you realised quickly that you were trapped in place. Juyeon, still hovering above you, smiled widely, admiring his handy work.

‘There, we don’t have to worry about you going anywhere now.’ He said, still grinning.

‘I wouldn’t have gone anywhere.’

‘I know princess,’ Juyeon let his finger caress your cheek, moving down until it reach the neckline of your dress. ‘I just have to make sure, until I know how good you are. Because I know you can be a good girl, can’t you?’

You nodded frantically, pushing your chest up into his touch. Juyeon continued grinning, encouraged by your movements. He unzipped your dress, pulling the material down until it was thrown to the floor. The boy straddled your naked body, looking down at your figure as his hands continued their journey downward. Fingertips burning circles into your cleavage and stomach until they stopped just above the hem of your panties. He hesitated for a moment.

‘Say yes.’ He whispered almost silently as you remembered all the times you’d read those words in the letters he’d written. Say yes to him, in every way. And though you never imagined you’d be doing it, the word poured from parted lips almost instinctively.

Juyeon was spurred on, his mind suddenly clearer than it had been all night. You looked down at the boy as he trailed the underwear over your legs, chuckling when he noticed the wet patch in the centre. Juyeon sat over your calves, leaning down until his face was equal with your core. A whimper left your mouth, floating into the air as suddenly, you felt lips wrap around your already sensitive clit. You choked out a moan as Juyeon pushed further in your heat, mouth moving up and down, the muscle prodding your entrance. More squeals came from your lips, stomach tightening as you pushed your core up into his mouth. His tongue continued to work your heat, moving quickly and powerfully until you could feel a coil beginning to form in your loin.

You pushed up further, hoping to cause more friction and find your high. As abruptly as he had begun, Juyeon pulled away, letting you writhe around, helpless. A particularly loud groan bellowed into the room. The boy moved back up your body, leaving kisses on your naked form every so often, the remnants of spit sticking to your skin. He continued until his face was inches above yours, his fingers meeting your bottom lip and pulling your mouth open. Juyeon dropped his forehead against yours, eyes big as a long, pendulum of spit emitted from his mouth. It dangled between your faces, Juyeon holding your lips open until his fluid reached your tongue. The taste of him spreading out over your taste buds, it was the same thick, sweet taste of the drink you’d been gulping at the party. It made you feel closer to him, comforted almost.

Juyeon forced his mouth down on you again, lips mellowing out onto yours in a much sweeter way than before. He continued for a while before lifting up and moving off your body for the first time since you’d awoken. Your chest could finally move better but as soon as you became adjusted, Juyeon grabbed your hips and spun you around. Suddenly, your bare ass was met with cool air, your face pressing into the pillow. Juyeon let his fingers grip you tighter, pulling your hips upward so your back arched and heat was vulnerable to him.

Your face tried to turn back to see what Juyeon was doing, but it was impossible from the angle. Instead, you waited, restless, rocking softly wishing silently that his touch would return. The sound of rustling and shuffling greeted your ears but still no touch. The knowledge that he was likely undressing graced your mind but still no touch. You waited and waited until finally, the warm, hard flesh of Juyeon’s cock brushed against your slick entrance. The member twitched in anticipation before the boy pushed it inside you, the stiff member filling you. Your heat stretched and pulsated, Juyeon remaining motionless for a moment to let you adjust to his size. After a moment, he began thrusting in and out. Slowly at first and then quicker, the pace building and building until your body began rocking with his thrusts. Juyeon held you in place by your hips, his fingertips likely leaving bruised bevelled into your skin.

Juyeon continued his thrusts, the tip of his cock nearly prodding your cervix as he furthered his assault. Your body felt weak and would’ve likely collapsed if it weren’t for Juyeon holding you up.

‘God, this feels even better than I imagined, you’re so tight, so warm. Fuck.’ The boy moaned, deep growls passing his lips as his thrusts burned into your core. You pushed back against his length, allowing it to brush against your g-spot, the walls of your heat twitching at the contact.

The boy let one hand dance onto your back, stopping just between your shoulder blades. He pushed down, your breasts pushed onto the plush duvet, the new position making it much easier for Juyeon to brush against your g-stop again and again. You writhed in pleasure, stomach tight.

‘Don’t you move baby, don’t fucking move.’

Juyeon let his other hand raise high into the air, slamming down against the taunt skin of your ass. Pain sprung out onto the flesh. The boy lifted his hand again, slapping you again, and again and again. Though at first it burnt, the jolts of pain began to add to the mound of pleasure in your loin. Juyeon continued his tirade of slaps, your ass beginning to burn with pain though that only seemed to spur him on. After a few minutes of thrusting and slapping, he swapped hands and began slamming down on your other cheek.

His thrusts became messy, his open palm clamping back down onto your hip to steady himself. Groans fell from his mouth, your back arching to let him hit all the deepest parts of your heat. Another few minutes passed, Juyeon slowly down and then with a particularly guttural moan, he pulled his length from within you. Your core felt empty, cold almost until his hands flipped you over. The tie wrapped around your wrist tightening and digging into your flesh. It burnt, just like your ass still was. Juyeon now looked down on you, kneeling between your legs, naked.

The boy looked like a statue, made in a laboratory. You didn’t understand why he was so enamoured with you, willing to break so many laws and moral barriers to be with you. He must be crazy, he was.

Juyeon leant down, hand on the bedframe to hold himself up. His mouth lowered, lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking on the tender flesh, and letting it bounce back with a pop. A whimper bellowed from your mouth, Juyeon looking up at you with dark, arrogant eyes. He moved up, face hovering above yours, his hard member brushing against your entrance, teasing you. A smile sprouted on his lips, one hand disappeared to stroke his cock up and down your slick entrance.

‘Please…’ You found yourself mumbling absent-mindedly, not even realising what he had done before.

He laughed.

His face moved away from you suddenly, fingers clasping the knife that was sat on your bedside table. Your stomach tightened, Juyeon’s member still on your entrance. Juyeon held the knife forward, pressing the tip against your breast, pushing down slightly. You felt the point dig into your skin, a droplet of blood seeping from the warm flesh. Another small whimper fell from your mouth, Juyeon’s smile growing tenfold.

‘Beg for it.’

‘What?’

‘I said,’ Juyeon ordered, pushing the blade down harder, another drop of blood slithering down your breast. ‘beg for it.’

‘Please. Please.’

‘Please… what?’

‘Please fuck me, Juyeon. I want you to fuck me, please. I want you inside of me again, please, I want you to fill me up.’

Juyeon smiled wide, sliding the knife downward and then pulling it away from your skin. And with one sharp movement, he pushed his length into you, stretching you once more. You both moaned loudly, Juyeon beginning to build his pace again. Hips bucking onto yours. The thrusts became as quick as they were before, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix again, the coil of pleasure tightening in your loin.

Once again, Juyeon lifted the knife and this time pressed it to your throat. The sharp blade slightly scraping your elongated neck, still continuing his thrusts until they became messy again. Juyeon let out several grunts, the sounds roaming the room like music. The boy made sure not to cut you, instead letting you merely feel the threat of danger. He snapped his hips onto yours once more, the pleasure in your stomach burning and finally, unravelling.

A long, feral whimper exploded from your mouth, head tilting back as Juyeon continued to thrust. The feeling of you tightening through your orgasm made his cock twitch, the member releasing its warm liquid into your heat. The warmth of his seed caused another moan to fall from your mouth, Juyeon growling low as he rode out his high. The boy trusted one more time and then let his length slowly fall out of you.

He still held the knife to your throat, hands still clasped around the headboard. You waited for something, for Juyeon to untie you and snuggle up to you in bed. Instead, he knelt above you, knife still on your skin.

‘What are you going to do now?’ You asked as Juyeon looked down at the ground beside your bed. He sighed.

‘I’m going to keep you. I just haven’t decided where.’ The boy uttered as though it were the most normal thing in the world. Only now, you’d let him.

#lee juyeon #lee juyeon scenarios #lee juyeon imagines #lee juyeon smut #the boyz #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #ji changmin #kim sunwoo #lee sangyeon #bae jacob #jacob bae #kim younghoon #lee hyunjae #lee jaehyun #kevin moon #choi chanhee #ju haknyeon #eric sohn

[fuckyeahfightlock]

Advent Ficlets 2021, Day 1

So I got kudos this morning on a previous (2019?) advent ficlets-based johnlock alternate-meeting story, A Party on Christmas Eve, so I reread it, and it was cute and funny and I remember it being fun to write.

So this year I’m writing a sequel.

@missdaviswrites​ gave us a collection of her previous Advent prompt lists, and I am (virtually) rolling a 5-sided die to choose which prompt I will use each day.

'Tis the Season

Despite the cold against which he had turned up his collar, zipped up both his top layers, and even brought out the muffler and gloves, John was feeling cheerful on his walk back to the flat. It was half-three and the sun had begun its quick slide down, disappearing behind the tallest buildings, and a biting wind went from steadily chilling to frigid gusts at senseless intervals. John picked up his pace, more to get home quickly than to get out of the cold. Soon enough it would be full dark, but in the sitting room at 221B, there would be candlelight, and glimmering tiny bulbs in the boughs of two lovely fat trees--one visible through each window on the Baker Street side--and sparkling reflections from every mirror, photo frame, rocks glass, and beaker in the place.

Sherlock really tarted up the place for Christmas, John knew--it was the first thing he’d learned about him when John had taken the tiny flat downstairs, the previous December--and he did it all on the first of the month, left it up until the Epiphany on the sixth of January, which also happened to be his birthday; John was unclear as to whether it was the traditional twelve days of Christmas Sherlock felt were worthy of his lavish decor, or the one day of Sherlock. Either way, John found it all quite jolly and beautiful. He was looking forward to the transformation of their sometimes dowdy, oft-times dim, ever-dusty flat into a holiday showplace. Sherlock had not only enthusiasm, but a real eye for it. Just one among many delightful surprises--one might say “quirks”--in Sherlock’s hidden depths, which John had had the pleasure and honour to delve since they met, one year before, to the day.

“Hey, Sherlock, I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got whisky and wine,” he called out, as the giveaway stair groaned beneath his tread. “Woman at the shop guided me to this pinotage she says is good.”

The flat was just that--drab and unadorned, though two of the several boxes of decorations had been brought in and set on the floor by the coffee table--and Sherlock sat at the kitchen table with a leatherbound notebook before him, open to a blank page he tapped thuddily with the heavy end of a gold-trimmed black pen.

John scanned the disconcerting scene, quickly shrugged it off. Sherlock had cases. He may have been out most of the day (though his state of dress--pyjama bottoms, t-shirt, bare feet, dressing gown--belied that idea). Christmas was still over three weeks away, and technically there was no rule to say Sherlock must decorate for it on the first. John probably had only expected it because it had happened to be the first, last year. Anyway, there was important business to address.

“Happy anniversary,” John smiled, cupping a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and dropping a kiss onto his automatically-proffered cheek.

“Of?”

“The day we met,” John said, tilting his head in a manner that indicated Sherlock had better be joking. “You borrowed matches.”

Sherlock’s face rearranged itself into a smile, and he fussed with the pen and notebook, closing, stacking, sliding into place in the table’s center, out of the way.

“Of course,” he soothed, and if he really had forgotten (unlikely; he forgot nothing, ever, except the combination to the lockbox under the bed where he kept his false passports, a small gold bar, and a lock of hair he’d yet to explain), the sweet low tones and smiling eyes made up for it. “Time does fly, doesn’t it?” He stood, and as John shook free of his coat, Sherlock embraced him, and sighed. “It was an excellent day.”

“I agree.” John quick-kissed the side of his neck, and asked, “Can I take you out to dinner? To celebrate?” He let Sherlock go, and they went their ways, John folding the shopping bag and Sherlock examining the labels on the fresh-bought bottles. “Start off the month in a cheery way. ‘Tis the season, as they say.”

Sherlock hummed. “I rather think I’m in for the evening. If that’s all right.”

“Fine,” John agreed. “Fine.” He switched on the kettle, and as he went into the cupboard for mugs and the sugar bowl, and then into a drawer for a spoon, Sherlock drifted away, stood near the unopened boxes in the sitting room, tugging thoughtfully at his lip with fingertip and thumb. John tucked tea sachets into each waiting cup, claimed the milk from the fridge. Sherlock rounded the coffee table, lifted a watch plaid wool throw-blanket from the end of the sofa, and encircled his shoulders with it, then moved to his favoured chair and folded himself into it. He picked up his phone from the side table, woke it, swept one finger upward along its screen, set it down again. He picked up a book from beside the phone, found his place, held it, did not appear to be reading.

John brought the tea, and eventually turned on the telly.

#2021 Advent Ficlets #johnlock #Another Party on Christmas Eve

[mmvalentine]

Lockdown Lovers, pt 1| Feysand

Hello, for my first fic here this seems like a no brainer. Please let me know if this is a thing people like. Modern pandemic AU. Also there is now a Part 2.

Rhys stood with his hand on his bedroom doorknob, breathing in and out deeply and willing his body to relax. He could hear Feyre just on the other side of the door, pottering around the kitchen. Damn early riser. Rhys cursed morning people soundly. 

Feyre had only meant to be staying in his apartment for a couple of weeks while she got her own place sorted. She was his cousin’s best friend, and so when Feyre moved to the city, it made sense that she would room with Rhys while she house-hunted. But then the lockdown had rolled out, and suddenly, there they were. Just the two of them. In 200 square feet. Every damn hour, of every damn day. For the past month.

It wasn’t that Rhys didn’t like having Feyre around. Quite the opposite in fact- he was enjoying it far too much. The smell of her jasmine-scented shampoo in the air when he opened the door, the sight of her rain boots next to his in miniature, the sound of her husky laugh when he told a joke. God, the sound of it. Any time he pulled it from her, his very bones warmed.

Rhys hissed, and stared down at the front of his pants. It stared right back at him. This line of thinking was doing nothing for his... situation. In order to get to the bathroom, he had to cross from his bedroom door, through the cramped living area, and right past Feyre sitting on the worn couch. He desperately needed to empty his bladder, but there was no way he was parading his morning wood past her.

Rhys had always been a night person, and was slow to wake. Usually, by the time he rolled out of bed, everything was where it should be. But lately, having Feyre around his every waking moment meant it was physically impossible to not think about her. And when he thought about Feyre... it was just getting worse as time went on.

Feyre was Mor’s best friend. There was no way Mor would approve of him hitting on her- he had learnt that lesson back when they were teenagers and Rhys had hooked up with one of her friends at a party. Mor had been livid when she found out- then again, it may have something to do with the fact that Mor went on to date that girl for six months after the dust had settled. Still, her wrath was infamous and to be avoided at all costs.

And yet, Rhys was hopelessly attracted to Feyre. He had known she was beautiful, she and Mor had a shared love of getting dressed up for parties. But having here here at home... was something else entirely. The moments of her, unguarded, make-up free and barefoot in oversized hoodies had tripped him up. And the way she had just fallen into his life, made space in his routine, like she had always lived there- it was too easy. Too easy to imagine that they could just keep going like this forever. 

But no, Feyre had plans to move closer to the university, where she had enrolled in a post-grad degree. She had been so apologetic when the lockdown had them stuck together, and always reminded him that she would, in fact, move out when she was able. 

So, Rhys closed his eyes, and thought about football until his boner disappeared. Then he cursed himself for being such a horny idiot, and strode out to the bathroom. 

“Hey!” Feyre called as he passed. “Hey yourself,” Rhys greeted her. “I’m glad you’re up, you have to come watch this with me,” she said. Feyre patted the couch next to her. He glanced at the television, frozen half way to the bathroom. A David Attenborough documentary was on. “Octopuses are so weird.” Feyre grinned.

The way she lit up was unreasonably cute. Rhys’ eyes slid from the vacant seat next to her, to the cross-legged girl on the couch. Her honey-blonde hair was still bed-messy, and there was a slight shadow around her eyes from yesterday’s mascara. She was wearing flannel pyjama pants, and an old t-shirt with no bra on. Rhys’ throat closed, and he tore his eyes away.

“Uh, I can’t this morning, I’ve really gotta get on with work.” Feyre made a face. “Working from home always sounded so good, but I swear you work more than ever.” The corner of Rhys’ lips tugged up. “That’s true. But the view from my home office is considerably better.” What the fuck are you doing, the voice in his head sighed. Feyre blushed, the stain over her cheeks making her eyes look especially bright.  “Well I hope I’m not distracting you,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. He followed the movement with his eyes, wanting badly to be able to reach out and touch her face. “You’re very distracting.” 

Rhys slapped himself inwardly. He made an effort to behave. “Do you, ah, have plans for the day?” he asked. Feyre shook her head. “Still can’t go anywhere, so that’s a no.” “Right,” Rhys said. Stupid question. He stood there for a moment, unsure what to say next, until Feyre said, “Weren’t you on your way to the bathroom?” “Right, yes!” Rhys said. He crossed the room quickly, and shut the door a little too hard behind him. Then put his head against the wooden frame.

Yep, definitely getting worse.

****

Continue on or nah?

UPDATE: as of yesterday all five parts are up!! Follow the link at the top of this post or check out the masterlist tab on my page :D :D

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acomaf #acosf #acotar au #mine #fluff

[mymoonagedaydream]

Only the Good Die Young (part 8)

Summary: Things finally seemed like they were falling into place

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment, harmful relationship with parents, smut references, the FLOOF of it all

Author's Note: It’s the finale, goddamn I’m gonna miss all this Billy Joel stuff. Thank you so much for all the love for this series. Who knows, maybe we’ll come back to these two eventually, but for now they’ve definitely been through enough. Bless ‘em.

---

The rest of the date was surprisingly nice.

You managed to coerce Bucky back to beer after the sewer water he’d ordered had all gone, and it turned out that the restaurant took their ‘bottomless breadsticks’ promise a little too seriously, doing everything but force-feeding you by hand to get them gone.

You just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was hanging over the two of you.

After what he said, you’d tried your best to dig a little deeper, but he changed the subject pretty quickly once he realised how upset you were- and it was almost impossible to get more information out of Bucky once he’d stonewalled.

Either way, you knew you’d have to talk to him more about it soon, even if you didn’t particularly want to.

It was his face as he said it. You never wanted to see that again.

Stuffed and a little tipsy, the two of you spilled out of the restaurant and started heading home. The evening air was a chilly, but Bucky had wrapped his jacket around your shoulders before you’d even begun to feel the cold.

After walking for a while, you came to a corner you recognised, and decided to take him on a little detour.

You tugged his arm towards the turning. ‘Shall we take the long way back? We can walk along the river.’

‘Sure, but if you fall in I’m not coming in after you.’ He gave you a wide smile and snaked his arm around your waist, letting you lead him down the side street.

A comfortable silence fell as you approached the water, both of you watching the ripples distort reflections from the harbourside restaurants and bars. Reaching the edge, Bucky turned to carry on walking along the path, but you stayed in place and pulled him back.  

He moved to stand opposite you, looking a little confused as you took both his hands in yours. 

'Buck, what you said earlier, I really think we should talk more about it.'

'Nah, it’s alright. It was in the past. Like you said, things are good now and that’s all that matters.'

‘No, I didn’t mean, uh-’ Christ he was slippery, using your own words against you like that. ‘Look, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. If it’s still affecting you, it matters, and it’s good to talk about it.’

He turned his head, staring at the water, deep in thought. You didn’t let up. You brought your hands up to his face and pulled it back towards you, raising your eyebrows at him expectantly. 

He took a deep, shaky breath.

'If I keep talking, I might say something that drives you away. I don't know if I could take that.'

‘Bucky, I don’t care about your past.’ His face changed suddenly, tensing a little. You rubbed your forehead and winced, realising that your tone had been much firmer than intended. ‘That came out wrong.’

He let out a small chuckle, pulling you closer and smirking. ‘First you want me to talk, now you tell me to shut up.’

‘No, what I meant was, nothing you’ve done in the past could change my opinion of you now.’ You wound your arms around his neck. ‘Unless you were a serial killer, but even then I might let you try to convince me that they deserved it.’

‘Oh they did.’

You laughed, moving to cup his face and stroke your thumbs across his cheeks. Feeling his hands pressed against your back and staring into his glowing blue eyes, something inside you burst or erupted or... Christ, you weren’t sure, but next thing you knew your mouth was writing a cheque that you weren’t sure Bucky would want to cash.

‘I love you, Buck.’ His face dropped slightly in shock. Fuck it, you were all in now, might as well carry on. ‘Properly. Get a dog together type love. Put up with you stealing the covers all night type love. I’d even go as far as to say-’

He cut you off, pressing his lips against yours and squeezing your waist tight. You relaxed completely in his arms, not sure that you’d be able to stay on your feet if he suddenly let go, but too caught up in the moment to care.

He pulled away an inch, just for just a second, to whisper ‘I love you too. Just stop talking.’

You weren’t sure how long the two of you were standing there by the river, it was becoming increasingly easy to lose time while you were tangled up with Bucky.

The rest of the walk home was a hazy, fragmented mess of staggering for a few minutes at a time before getting distracted and clumsily fumbling at each other. You found yourselves regretting taking the long way, both of you becoming more and more impatient to get back to the privacy of the apartment, and not making it past the floor on the inside of the door when you did.

But hey, at least neither of you ended up in the river.

---

You’d found it. The perfect apartment.

It was pretty small, but more than enough for just the two of you. The beach was a couple minutes walk away, but it was a fifth floor apartment, so the front window had a sea view. It even had underground parking, so Bucky wouldn’t have to rush to the window to check on his bike every ten minutes.

He was out at the store when you came across it and you couldn’t stop yourself pacing around excitedly until he got back. You practically jumped him as soon as he came through the door, dragging him over to your laptop.

After a quick flick through the pictures, he dug his phone from his pocket. ‘It’s ours. What’s the number?’

‘Oh, well, we should probably go see it first.’

‘Nah. How bad could it be?’

You nodded slowly and let your gaze wander around his flat, lingering on the carpet stains and the patch of mould in the corner.

Yep, things were starting to make a little more sense.

‘What’s the hold up?’

Your eyes flicked back to Bucky, looking at you excitedly, phone still ready in hand. A warm smile spread across your face. Maybe it was time to take a page out of his book.

Stop thinking so much, close your eyes and jump.

Bucky made the call, you sent over all the information they needed, and then you waited. 

And waited. 

All evening, checking Bucky’s phone every ten minutes. It was like torture. 

Nothing had come through by midnight, so the two of you gave up and slunk off to bed, trying to stay optimistic about finding somewhere else but inwardly completely gutted.

---

You woke up the next day to the smell of cooking bacon and the sound of Bucky humming to himself in the kitchen. Stretching yourself across the empty bed, you could easily have slept for another couple hours, but you were too curious to see what he was up to.

Your hand found your phone on the bedside table and you checked the time, your head darting away from the pillow in shock when you saw that it was creeping up to midday.

Pulling your pyjamas on, you trudged through to the front room, seeing Bucky stood over the stove.

‘What’re you doing?’ You walked up beside him, settling into his side as he snaked his arm around you, gazing at the pile of food he was pushing around the pan.  

‘A proper breakfast, I thought we’d celebrate.’

You nodded sleepily, a little confused. ‘Celebrate what?’

He looked down at you, sporting a wide smile. Your drowsiness slowly melted away as you realised what he was talking about.

‘We got it?’

‘We got it.’

Some kind of throaty yelp noise escaped your mouth, making Bucky burst out laughing. You threw your arms around his neck, squeezing him as hard as you could, feeling tears welling up in his eyes.

When you finally let go of him, he dug his phone out of his pocket and showed you the email from the landlord.

‘Wait, this says we move in at the start of next month?’ He nodded proudly. ‘Buck, that’s two days from now.’

‘Yup. Better get packing.’

Turns out he’d already hired a van to arrive the next day and nipped out while you were asleep to buy packing boxes. You had no idea who this guy was and what he’d done with Bucky, but you weren’t complaining.

Finally, it felt like things were falling into place.

---

The drive to your new home was about an hour. 

You’d hoped the ride would be relaxing and cathartic, but you spent almost the entire time white-knuckled, gripping onto the dashboard. Bucky drove the moving van in exactly the same way as he drove his motorbike, he didn’t even seem to notice the sound of all your possessions sliding around chaotically in the back.

He finally parked up outside the apartment block and you reverted back to religion for the first time in years, thanking god that both of you survived the drive.

The building wasn’t particularly attractive, sitting in an unremarkable side street opposite a seedy looking off-license, but you still felt the excitement bubbling in your stomach as you hopped out of the van and surveyed your surroundings.

Bucky gave you a wide smile and walked towards the door, approaching a man in a cheap suit who you hadn’t even noticed. The keys were exchanged, and suit gave you a polite nod before turning and walking down the street. 

That was, quite possibly, the only easy interaction you and Bucky had ever had with a third party since you’d been together. 

You knew life was going to be a whole lot easier after leaving that fucking town, but you certainly hadn’t expected such immediate results. This was incredible. 

You grabbed a box and followed Buck up the stairs, bursting through the door into your new home. 

The first thing you noticed was the view. It was even better in person. 

You unceremoniously dropped whatever you were carrying and walked towards the window, seeing the vast ocean spread out in both directions as you got closer.

Bucky came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder.

‘Whatta you think?’

‘I love it.’

‘It needs a bit of work.’ He briefly surveyed the walls and the ceiling. ‘I think the last people here had dogs, there’s still some-’

You swivelled round in his arms and placed your hand firmly over his mouth, feeling him smiling against your palm. ‘I don’t care. I love it.’

Bucky mumbled something into your hand. You rolled your eyes and moved it away from his face, prompting him to repeat himself.

‘Me too.’

It took a couple hours to get everything out of the van, and when you’d finished, the two of you found yourselves staring at a messy pile of boxes dumped in the middle of the living room. 

A unanimous decision was made that there was no point starting to unpack before having something to eat, even though you’d spent the entire drive shoving handfuls of doritos into each other's faces.  

---

So, for the first of many times, you and Bucky watched the sunset over the sea. 

Sitting on cardboard boxes in your cheap flat, eating pretty terrible Chinese food, with nothing in the world but a few dollars and each other. 

And it was perfect. 

---

@shawnie--jo @brilliantbellesoares @livingoffsavvyillusions @noiralei @bebeyeni @kingkassam @newyorkgoddess @sir-lili @im-squished @dancer3205 @thefallenbibliophilequote @supernaturalwintersoldier @adriannajackson @rhumphr4

---

#bucky fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #biker!bucky x you #biker!bucky x y/n #biker!bucky #biker!bucky x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

[fanfiction-funtime]

Self insert oc: Alexander Vodka

AKA: Eis Cay'zar

Author of fate

A writer from Schneznaya who was driven from his home for his anti-Tsaritsa paper.

_____________________

Physical description:

A chubby fellow in a 1950's style noir trenchcoat and hat, some would even say he looks like he jumped right out of a noir comic book and into reality. He has brown hair and green eyes, a cowboy mustache, and a pointed beard like some kind of comic book supervillain genius.

He often acts confidently and even a bit egotistical when in places he's recognized and famous in, however in newer places he often seems distant and shys away from almost all contact.

Noone knows where his vision is, but they know he has one because of the cold aura that surrounds him.

At night he'll often trade his outfit for one more reminiscent of demons or vampires.

_____________________

Abilities:

Weapon type: Catalyst

Basic attack-truth: uses his catalyst to shoot a short burst of up to 3 ice shards, can attack in fast succession.

"Truth hurts, especially in bursts"

Charged attack-Bifrost: Alexander quickly makes an ice clone behind the enemy and fires 6 shots, this can increase to 3 clones if charged enough(times: 1 for 1 second, 2 for 2 seconds, and 3 for 2.5 seconds)

"I hate crowds, best company has always been myself"

Elemental ability-ice wall: creates an aura of sheer cold around himself that will damage enemies the more they stay in it, and apply the normal sheer cold to them. Does not affect party.

"My therapist said I put up walls because of trauma, but I couldn't hear them through the wall I had just built"

Elemental burst-a story to be told: Alexander takes out his book and opens to a random page, then randomly summons ice sculptures of one of 8 beings:

"Aster": this summon looks like the flatwoods monster, it surrounds the party in a swirl of ice blades that deal 2X damage as the character for 10 seconds.

"Who needs brawn, when you got brain"

"Ultimate foe": a demonic, pointy being of shadow. Will independently deal 25000 damage to three random foes.

"Meet my penultimate friend"

"Beethoven": a sculpture reminiscent of a ww1 zombie general, calls down a barrage of ice bombs that deal 5000 damage to enemies hit for 7 seconds.

"Good scifi doesn't predict, it prevents"

"Sorrows Joy": an angelic, faceless, robot like humanoid that spawns 25 angel shaped traps that freeze enemies around the character.

"With any luck, you're the only real one I've made"

"Death rider and the magic prince": two statues, one of a mummy like Schneznayan mystic of ancient barbarian times and the other an elven cavalry knight from the myths of mondstadt. The knight gives the party a 45% boost to speed and attack while moving, and the Schneznayan gives +10% damage bonus to elemental skills and +55% damage bonus to Catalyst.

"Feel the wrath of honor long passed"

"Zero point and Lion queen": a knightly man of spiked armor and a golden ottoman warrior woman whose golden chain completely obscures her head. Your enemies become inflicted with pyro and you are surrounded by thorn bushes that deal continuous damage of 1000 for 10 seconds.

"Walk down the way on a moonlit day"

The traveler: a child in a red straight jacket, his binds become undone after 4 seconds at which point all enemies take 10,000 X Alexander's level of damage.

"I uh,wont have to pay any copyrights will I?"

"Giota": a child in pyjamas who looks ready to sleep, this summon is very rare. It fully restores all party members and gives a 200% boost to both defense and damage of your characters.

"This fella's been with me since I was a kid"

"If it is a soldier's duty to escape the confines of a prison, is it not every person's duty to escape reality if even for a moment? A wise man said that, pray that I may one day be like him."

Passive-part the wasteland: Alexander is immune to sheer elements, and Grant's 50% resistance when in the party to all members.

_____________________

Story

Abandoning a dream

As a kid, Alexander was always put down when he said he wanted to write fiction, "there's no money in it" they all said.

He couldn't get into any art schools without support so he focused his mind elsewhere, a place he could hopefully use his writing to do just as much good: the first newspaper in Schneznaya.

Horrible truth

He didn't start as a trouble maker, but the more he sought out the truth the more he couldn't stand back and watch. He published numerous papers about the Tsarista's wrongdoings and the crimes of the fatui, how they would harass merchants in other nations, the unfair taxes many shipping businesses had to keep quiet about, all the way up to the war crimes the Tsarista had done in direct contradiction to her own laws.

Sadly, not many believed him even with evidence, but some got his message.

Those who fight

One day Alexander was approached by a man who claimed to have formed a resistance against the fatui. Alexander had inspired many people to disrupt the organization, and have even begun working with those outside Schneznaya.

With their help he didn't just publish some crimes, he published them all, he even got information that turned the general public against the fatui even if just a little.

In a way h had achieved his dream of helping others with his writing, even if it wasn't how he wanted.

Stop the presses

When the Tsarista started her big move of taking gnosis, she brought the hammer down on dissent like a boulder on a ten year old's wrist. One day a squad of thirty fatui stormed Alexander's home and business to silence him, and while they shut down his business they couldn't catch him.

Alexander fled into the wastelands of ice and snow and wasn't seen for several weeks.

Deus ex Vodka

One day Alexander showed up in Inazuma, a nation that had been oppressed for some time now and had recently reached it's height, yet no resistance had formed.

That was until Alexander came along.

Alexander published numerous books, spreading them throughout Inazuma. All of them spoke of freedom, of bravery, of rising up to achieve your ambitions.

And with those stories he inspired countless to take up arms, and in turn inspired countless to join the resistance.

And with mere fiction he had brought about hope,

And with mere fiction he shall do it again, in every form, and in every nation.

Vision: cold hearted

While wondering the waste Alexander fell down and looked to the skies.

He did not ask celestia why, he did not grieve or blame that he did not do more, instead Alexander did something he hadn't done in a long time:

He imagined.

And after he imagined he took out his notebook and wrote. In the freezing cold for seventeen days he wrote stories of hope and freedom.

For seventeen days the cold did not so much as cause him to flinch as he wrote tales of bravery.

For seventeen days Alexander Vodka lived how he wanted to live.

And at the end, he lied down to die.

Then a light shown, and when he opened his eyes to look he saw that the storm parted around him, and in his hand was an ice blue gem.

But Alexander was too paranoid from years of abuse from his peers as a child to wear it loosely, and far to extra to just get a lock. So instead Alexander shouted to celestia "if I shall have this Vision for my art, then it shall not kill me no matter what I do!"

He then shoved the vision into his heart and fell down.

Before he could bleed out however, a woman appeared.

"Hey Tsari, how ya doin." Alexander said as blood poured out his mouth.

"You dramatic fool," the Tsarista sighed as she put a hand on his chest, "you have my element, do you know how bad it'll look for me if you die by shoving your vision into your heart?"

"Why do you care? We hate eachother, in case you forgot."

The archon sighed, "you're just rebelling against what you see as unjust, just as I am. To be honest I feel a sort of rivalry with you, so it'd be a shame if you just died. Also," she painfully shoved the vision all the way in, painfully, "if your going to die it better be because of me, got it?"

Then Alexander sat up, and the god was gone. Along with the hole in his chest.

"Rival of a god eh?" He sat up, putting his gat back on his head, "I like the sound of that."

_____________________

How is this an insert?

Well his story can't be the exact same as mine, so I took my life and goals and made predictions, then fictionalized those predictions and expanded.

His appearance is pretty close to how I'll likely look based on my current appearance, and his dramatic attitude is exactly how I wanna act.

Him being shy in new places with strangers is me exactly as I am now really, however I do believe I'd act confidently if I were famous so he does as well.

Him being Catalyst is because I'm not athletic at all, and I figured a dps Catalyst would be cool. His main ability and resistance/immunity to sheer cold is based on how I wrap up in warm blankets when it's cold, and his ultimate is made up of characters I've made.

_____________________

Tagging: @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos, @storytravelled, and @love-psxlm

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin oc