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feyascorner · 4 months

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3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud.

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes.

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs.

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. “...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

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#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst with a happy ending #angst #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart

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mysticworks · 2 months

Text

Make it up to you ~ Lewis Hamilton

It's your birthday but Lewis' hectic schedule means your special plans for the evening slip his mind.

Word count: < 1k

Genre: Slight Angst/ Mainly Fluff

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The 4 missed calls on his phone were enough to make him panic. 'Crap! Crap! Crap!'

A post qualifiers meeting for the upcoming Silverstone Grand Prix had overrun, the team then deciding to call for a last minute dinner that forced Lewis to stay longer than planned.

The qualifier rounds had been especially tough, car issues forcing Hamilton and Russel to bear the brunt of disappointing start positions for that weeks race. To clear his head, Lewis had gone for a quick gym session - your plan together completely slipping his mind in the heat of pressure to perform.

It only dawned onto him, after he'd showered, making him scramble into his car to get home as quickly as legally possible.

Pulling into the driveway, Lewis’ eyes fell on the dim lamp light, the glow peering through the closed curtains and painting shadows across the porch.

It was well past 2am and his heart sank at the thought of you sitting at home, awake and waiting for him in the silence of the night. The regret made his breath hitch.

I should’ve dropped a text. At the very least, I should've let her know.

Clenched fists in frustration, Lewis’ brows furrowed as he silently opened the front door, careful to tiptoe quietly to where he figured you were. It felt illegal to make any noise in such defeaning quiet.

Lewis called your name out softly before stopping dead in his tracks at the living room entrance.

It all hit him at once; the birthday fairy lights hung around the ceiling, the lingering waft of the cake you’d baked earlier that evening, the dull click of the clock hand as it counted the precious seconds you'd lost together, the soft snores coming from you at intervals.

His eyes rummaged through the room, coming to rest on the central coffee table. You’d taken out a film, in hopes of watching it tonight; his all time favourite - Disney’s Cars 3. Besides the CD, was the cake you’d baked - candles all set and matchstix ready to be set alight.

Except I didn’t turn up. I let you down.

He’d promised you this quiet night in, at the very start of the season and now he’d failed you. Guilt filled his core, eyes watering slightly. He sucked in a breath, heart sinking.

And then his eyes fell on you. Curled against the sofa’s armrest, a soft blanket carelessly thrown over you, in your slumber. You were still clutching your phone tightly in one hand, having fallen asleep whilst waiting for him to arrive. Lewis’ gut wrenched.

Coming to crouch down in front of you, Lewis gently pulled a strand of stray hair away, whispering rushed apologies to your sleeping face. Delicate with his hands, he caressed his thumb across your cheek, biting down on his own lip. The guilt was submerging him.

Saying he felt awful was an understatement. Your chest rose and fell gently, and he found himself edging closer to you, to leave a quick peck on your forehead.

The feeling of his warm breath on your skin, made your eyes flutter open. Groggily.

“Lewis?” Your voice was thick with sleep. He only hummed in response, sucking in a short breath before letting out a soft, hushed, “hey there.”

His eyes creased into a tired smile, the crows feet around his eyes all the more so adorable in the dimmed lamp glow.

You smiled back - your eyes were still fluttering, and Lewis gently tugged your phone out of your hand, placing it on the table, before turning back to you, his eyes staring directly into yours.

There was something sad about his look - something almost remorseful… disappointment with himself. It concerned you, but Lewis spoke first, “I’m so sorry. There’s no excu-”

You hushed him at once, slurring words with sleep overcoming you. “Let’s talk in the morning hmm?” You knew his work took a large chunk out of his life, and although you had been looking forward to a quiet night together, you knew it’d have to wait.

He broke into a deep chuckle, bopping your nose with his finger, “Wanna head to bed then?”

You shook your head, scooting into the sofa even further, and patting the small space left next to you. Lewis didn’t think twice, the seat dipping as he crawled in beside you in the tight space offered.

“Not made for two is it?”

There was a hint of amusement in his voice, and it made you happier he was lighter in spirit.

“Well then we’ll just have to scoot close.”

You shifted closer to Lewis, and he turned his body so your face leaned against his chiselled torso, the woolly fabric of his hoodie making a cosy cushion. His arm came to wrap itself around you, pulling you tighter, his lips placing the softest kiss at the top of your forehead.

“I’ll make tonight up to you, I promise.” His voice was a whisper, a silent comforter, with sincerity. He really meant it.

You nodded into his chest, humming in response, before you both let your eyes pull you into slumber.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #sir lewis hamilton

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laluv-469 · 27 days

Text

"The Other Woman"

synopsis: its a mean one. gojo is cheating on his girlfriend with you and the guilt of sadness of it all is starting to hit you. practically a flashback and a psychological breakthrough contemplating why you tolerate his shit. but whether you continue to is an entirely more difficult question.

content: smut, jjk x reader, cheating gojo satoru x reader, vaginal sex, rough, hair pulling, unprotected, gojo on top, angry sex, dom, angst, asshole gojo, etc idk i dont write smut often lmao

for clarification; gojo would NEVER cheat, at least that's what I think. uh I just had this really neat, angsty idea linked to this song, and I know how to write gojo better than any other character. granted, toji or most definitely sukuna would fit better, but again, don't know how to write those characters as well. i also think this is a very poor interpretation of gojo and his personality, but it cruely exposes his flaws related to being a little boasty f-boy. hope it doesn't disappoint too much, i am not an experienced writer <3

deepest apologies for any typos and grammatical errors. literally editing this at 1 am ♡

word count: 1,526

As much as you hated thinking about it, you were undeniably the other woman. You were the woman Gojo would sneak out of the room to text once his girlfriend fell asleep. You were the woman he would call when he got lonely and sad. You were the woman he would take out on secret dates across town. And, of course, you were the woman Gojo would ruthlessly fuck at the local motel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuckkk” Gojo would greedily groan as he slid his thick member in and out of your squelching hole. “You're nothing like her…” He chuckled to himself in awe as his grip on your hips tightened.

“So- fuckin’ tight~!” He bared through gritted teeth.

You shifted your weight slightly, burying your head down into the sheets with furrowed brows. Your long locks of hair fell loosely over your shoulders, draping down over your forehead. You only hum lazily in response, a bored expression on your face as he pounded into your little pussy.

God, he felt painfully good, but you hated when he compared you to her. You hated the way it made you think too much. And for awfully too long. Your eyes drifted off into long, angry thought. Gojo noticed this, and he also hated when you weren't receptive to him.

He had you bent over on your stomach, breasts smushed against the sheets as his hips rolled against your ass. The man lowered himself to your head, his warm breath tickling your neck. In a swift motion, he moved his hands toward your stomach and pressed firmly, pushing himself deeper inside you. His thrusts soon became rough and intentional… like he was testing your limits.

He managed to get a whimper out of you, your face contorting slightly with his change in pace. “Nngh~”

You tried to remain nonchalant though, turning your face away from him, not letting him see your arousal.

With the hand that wasn't clenching your stomach, he pulled a large chunk of your hair to the left, forcing you to meet his piercing eyes. They were narrow and.. almost dark with deep passion.. anger.. whatever it was your actions made him feel.

“Not feelin’ it hon?” He questioned with only slight irritation in his voice.

"Am I doing a crap job, hm?” He asks in a low voice, humor and frustration swirling into one.

Both of your heads were bobbing up and down with the intensity of his thrusts, heavy pants accompanying that. Still, he managed to stare into your soul as awaited your response. The room was filled with nothing but the sound of skin slapping and the reserved whimpers you let out through tight lips.

You avoided his eyes, closing them while trying to endure the pain. Each thrust sent him further inside you, his hips barely moving away from yours. It's like he was nearly locked in place with you, his hips bucking back and forth, keeping a small distance between your bodies. His grip on your body was tight, holding onto your hair and waist like his life fucking depended on it.

He scoffed at your silence, yanking at your hair again, harder this time, causing your head to whip back. You finally broke, your mouth was open and now loud. He seemed to have reached your core, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot. Each time, you swore you saw stars. It's like he was becoming one with you, his entire size stuffing you grossly.

“Ah, ah ah!! S-Satoru-nn!!” You pleaded, your voice loud and squeaky, yet barely coherent.

“Don't- fucking ignore me…” He spoke in a low growl, his voice breaking in a similar manner to yours.

He placed his temple against yours, your foreheads now pressed against each other as his movements grew more sloppy and erratic. His grip on your hair was still tight, practically using it for support as his body moved restlessly against you. Your scalp wss being stressed, strands sure to fall out after it's next brush.

“What's wrong, hm? Before.. I-” He stopped, struggling to speak and fuck you at the same time, “Before I pull out.. tell.. me” He panted heavily in an ugly rhythm with your moans, a lewd melody of slaps and grunts filling the air.

He was close, you felt him throb inside you, and you were too. Your walls began to enclose, almost trapping him inside your hole. “Tight fuckin’ cunt…” He grunted lowly, chuckling to himself once again at the marvel that was your pretty little pussy.

You shut your eyes tight as your orgasm neared, mouth gaped open, trying to find the right words. What could you possibly utter to him? You hated that he was in this secret “relationship” with you.. yet you let it fly. Why, though? Speak up, tell him! And so you did.

In broken words and whimpers, “Break.. up with her..” You regretted the words as soon as they escaped your lips, biting your entire lower lip in immediate guilt.

Gojo's hips stuttered a bit, your words clearly catching him by surprise. But you were too lost in the rhythm to stop. You felt a rising sensation in your stomach, a hungry desire to completely let loose everywhere. It was strong, so very strong, and you just needed this orgasm so badly. Your pussy was puffy and throbbing, his large member surely leaving you sore. He fucked and fucked and fucked, that lovely spot being tapped and played with till it went off. Shortly after, you came all over his cock, juices spilling out and dripping onto the bed. He fucked your cunt still, helping you ride out your orgasm as he neared his. Your eyes rolled back, the feeling of being emptied and filled all over again overstimulating you immensely, yet satisfying your desire so beautifully.

He followed shortly after, shooting his load inside you accompanied by the release of your hair, relief washing over the both of you. Letting out a heavy, slutty breath into your ear, he slowed down significantly, gently fucking the mixture of cum inside of you. Your head was soon back on the bed, red from shame and regret at what you said before. However the man simply pulled out and collapsed beside you, both of you simply laying on your stomachs, backs rising and falling with the aftermaths of an intense session. He raised his hand to your head, caressing your scalp in a comforting manner, as to apologize for the pulling and yanking.

He sighed, a worrisome look on his pretty fuck-boy face. “Break up with her?” He whispered.. sounding sad… Sad?

This asshole, what did he have to be sad about? You were the one crying yourself to sleep every night and eating alone more often than not. And imagine how his girlfriend would feel if she knew? This entitled, pretty asshole.

Your eyebrows furrowed angrily, turning your head to face the white-haired man. “Yes. She doesn't deserve to be cheated on for one, now you're just leading her on. Are you that dense or what?”

His head pulled back slightly in a contorted facial expression, seemingly offended by your comment. But he knew you were right, his eyes drifting away in thought. “You're right… Just.. let's sleep on it.” He sighed, his eyes fluttering shut.

Yeah, he sure did have a habit of putting this off. He'd always find an excuse not to think about it or talk about it.

You huffed, pulling away from his touch and rolling out of the trashy motel mattress. “No, that's your decision.”

He pissed you off, his eyes fluttering open again and stupidly following you with the dumb puppy face. You ignored him though, limping your way to the bathroom with a change of clothes.

Took a piss, showered, and changed within the next 20 minutes, you stepped out fully clean and refreshed. You dried up your hair a few feet away from the bed, Gojo watching your every move. Your face was scrunched up and angry, hating the fact that he was looking at you so desperately right now. Why'd you even let him fuck you?

“I'm going home,” You grabbed your bag and phone, heading for the door.

Without even realizing, Gojo was rushing out of bed, quickly stumbling toward you, “Fuck do you mean? I'm not driving you back over right now..” He leaned against the door frame butt naked, dick hanging loose and head tilted sideways.

You pushed his chest lightly, “Put some clothes on, get some sleep. I'll take a bus or something.” Again, you turn away from him, heading for the door knob.

Gojo's hand grabbed your arm, tugging you softly. “Why are you mad… baby… you know how this goes..” He practically pleaded, a tired and worn out expression on his stupid face.

“Cut it out, please I'm done Satoru I'm tired of feeling like shit every day.” You threw your head back, sadness and anger finally broke through.

“I'll cut her off, okay?” He spoke quickly and firmly, almost as if just to shut you up. After that, it was all a blur.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That day though, you fell for the facade, running right back into his arms, climbing right back into that bed, and continuing to be just the other woman.

Why you still do it? For the thrill? For the love? You sat for hours thinking about it, writing about it, crying about it. You almost told his girlfriend a couple of times. You have countless pages saved in your notes explaining everything to her, yes everything. But your heart and soul know you won't ever tell her, better yet jeopardize the “relationship” you have right now.

“Hey love…” He would greet you, caressing your cheek and brushing through your hair with his pale slender fingers. “You're so beautiful baby… I don't deserve you.” He smiled warmly at you, love genuinely radiating from his body.

Was any of that real? He was right though. A cheater doesn't deserve you. But you weren't any fucking better that's for sure. You're not sure when this will end, but damn you hope it ends with you finally being content and happy. No longer, the other woman.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #angst #smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #Spotify #lana del rey #jjk men

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hannie-dul-set · 4 months

Text

six quick and easy hacks to 🆙 the quality of your fanfiction!

as promised, here it is! i’m not here to tell you how to plot out your story, or how to write your characters’ personalities. the tips i’m sharing are more on formatting and structure, secret (not really) cheat codes to instantaneously make your already written work even better!

my qualifications? being a tumblr hag for over five years (my even more embarrassing pre k-pop writeblr included!) so i’ve unlocked quite a bit of secrets and discovered some eurekas throughout my time here HAHAHAH. anyway, let’s start!

#1 VARIETY IN PARAGRAPH LENGTHS, SENTENCE LENGTHS, AND SENTENCE STARTERS.

nothing turns me off more than seeing paragraph blocks after paragraph blocks when looking for some new fics to read, especially when you’re reading from a cramped up device such as your phone.

when i write a lengthy paragraph, i try to follow it up with a one-liner, or a mid-sized one. but it’s something i consciously keep track of— when i noticed that, “oh, this gdoc is getting a little too wordy, a little too chunky,” i make sure that my next paragraph is significantly shorter than the current one because it keeps the entire page interesting. one to two sentences of lines of paragraphs after another and another doesn’t look pretty. chunks of paragraphs after paragraphs is boring.

make your pages visually dynamic by ensuring variety.

like this, for example.

→ fic: home for the bitchless.

seeing a large chunk of text and a singular line immediately after also sort of forces your reader to stick around and read an otherwise intimidating lengthy paragraph because— oh! what could have possibly led to that singular like of dialogue or thought! #subtlemanipulation you get me? 😔🤙

this rule of mine applies to sentences and phrases within the paragraph as well!

→ fic: love vomit.

and as a bonus, you can use paragraph breaks and cuts to your advantage! manipulating the way a sentence or paragraph ends in a certain way makes your works more rhythmic! and, when you play it around the right way, abrupt cuts and breaks also add the right mood and drama to your work!

→ drabble: the boy who cried wolf.

part three of tip number one (one…we’re still at number one…) is on sentence and paragraph starters. i keep it as a rule of thumb that if i start a paragraph with “you,” or with someones name, i don’t use it again in the next one to avoid monotony. it’s a very miniscule thing really, and i doubt that people notice this HAHAHA but this is something i religiously swear by because repetitions like this are visually boring.

→ wip: sunwater.

of course, this can’t be avoided all the time, and repeating the sentence starter “You” or any other pronoun, word, or phrase can be intentionally utilized to strongly drive a point. just don’t overdo it!

→ drabble: patience, patience.

→ blurb: monsters don’t hide under the bed.

→ fic: the psychology of strawberries.

there are other good and strategic uses for repetitions as well! we’ll get to that later.

lastly, variety in sentence and paragraph starters doesn’t simply mean changing up the first word. things can still get really boring even if you use “you” or a character’s name interchangeably if your sentence structure remains the same.

this, for example, is monotonous.

the structure (and length) of all three sentences are the same. A does this. B does this. A does this. and even if you switch things up but still use the same sentence structure, it still falls flat. case in point, below, a structure i often see in a lot of fics i stumble across.

those are flat. those are boring. they don’t…you know…make you feel something, even when you follow the rule of not using the same starter twice. let me try improving it by adding more variety in the sentences (+ adding a tip that i’ll be discussing right after!)

the word “He” here is used twice to create a rhythm and draw emphasis, but the rest of the excerpt maintains a sense of variety to make the narrative more interesting and compelling to read.

#2 PICK A POV AND STICK WITH IT.

before i start a scene, a drabble, or blurb, the first question i ask myself is, “whose point of view do i want it to be in?”

one, it’s a lot neater, more organized, than omniscient point of views in my opinion (unless you’re like a super fucking skilled writer of course HAHAHHA). two, it allows for a bit of mystery, suspense, and engagement because you don’t have access to what other people are thinking about, and three— in line with the first tip— when you know whose brain you’re in when writing, it allows for more dynamic narrations, gives you an excuse to be messy because our internal thoughts are messy as well, and makes the writing a hell of a lot easier when you’re focused on monologuing one person alone!

when writing shorter fics, drabbles, or blurbs, i swear by this rule, no excuses HAHAHAH but when writing longer fics, sometimes i switch around the point of views per scene, just to make a more well rounded story.

sometimes, the point of view doesn’t even have to be any of the main character’s! writing from an external POV is also really fun and adds another layer of interest. see example below, a Jeonghan breakup fic written exclusively from the perspective of the outsiders. very fun idea!

breakup scene written in Seungcheol’s POV.

another squabble written in Seungkwan’s POV.

→ wip: the breakup soup.

#3 REPETITIONS AND THEMES = COHESIVENESS.

this section contains tricks on how to wrap up your fics into one cohesive little present with a pretty ribbon on top!

first is the use of repetition. use a cool funky line at the beginning of your story, and reuse/rehash/revise it at the end for a neat finish, especially when you have trouble figuring out a way to end your story (lifesaving hack! trust me!)

i use this mostly in my shorter works—

→ drabble: you’re my bucket list.

→ blurb: louder.

—but it works just as well with longer fics, especially when the repetition is all throughout, and not just at the start and finish.

→ fic: mogi.

sometimes, it doesn’t even have to be a repeated phrase or line! it can be a little gimmick and it’d still work to make your fic cohesive! for example, in the fic below, i use the giving of strawberry candy/strawberry kisses to tie all the different scenes together because this was initially a set of separate drabble ideas wrapped into one long fic.

→ fic: the psychology of strawberries.

and for this one (another ricky fic….yes…..) i use the whole cat metaphor to do the same.

→ drabble: yours to keep.

the next tip to make your work cohesive is to grab a singular theme, object, whatever, and take advantage of it for your narration HAHAHAHHA this can be better explained by looking at the examples below.

theme: citrus.

→ drabble: citrus in the morning.

theme: storm.

→ blurb: blizzard.

the above examples are my shorter works, but it can work for longer fics as well! just check out this 36k word monster HAHAHAHHA.

theme: seasons.

→ fic: love vomit.

these are very simple ways to make your fic more put together! even if it’s just a simply blurb about a confession, adding a theme to aid the imagery bumps your fic quality to a +++++

#4 THROW AWAY THE Y/N’S!

now this one is quite honestly just a personal nitpick HAHAHHAHA but seeing the word Y/N when i’m reading something really pulls me out of my immersion. (and i only stopped using Y/N’s in my fics at the start of my 2023 comeback….so if you see my older works still using it…hahahha please don’t prosecute me).

anyway, you can do this either by embedding it in the narration—

→ fic: star studded baggage.

—or by using nicknames and titles instead!

→ wip: the breakup soup.

→ fic: can’t handle this.

#5 GET INTO THE (UN)NECESSARY SPECIFICS.

instead of just saying “Your professor called you,” grab a random last name and say “Prof Yoon asked to see you in his office.” instead of saying you went to the cafe, the mall, the store, grab an actual place or make one up because no one in the world says “they’re going to the cafe to grab a frappe,” (unless the store’s name is actually The Cafe). people say they’re going to Dunkin Donuts or Coffeebreak or wherever.

sure it’s not plot relevant, sure it’s not integral, but little things like this make your narrative and dialogue a lot more realistic and less awkward. it makes it seem like your characters are actually living inside a world of their own.

#6 GRAMMAR AND FORMATTING.

these are given HAHA but when i talk about grammar, i mean making sure that the commas and periods are consistently inside the quotation marks when writing dialogue. i mean minimizing the use of italics because overusing it can ruin the reading experience of a good piece (i was guilty of this too!) and i mean making sure that the use of tenses are consistent all throughout (unless if it’s a creative and plot choice), because all these things really matter if you want your fic, drabble, or blurb to be of overall high quality.

and that’s basically it! hope these tips help somehow...hope i’m not revealing my secrets for naught and someone can actually put them to good use HHAHAHHA what’s most important obviously is that you’re having fun with what you’re writing…etc. etc. insert inspirational you can do it speech here.

anyway, happy new year! and happy reading and writing<33

#writing hacks ft. my self promos HAHAHAHHAHA #tomorrow x together x reader #enhypen x reader #nct x reader #seventeeen x reader #zerobaseone x reader #riize x reader

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ghostfilecabinet · 5 days

Text

I've thought about this a little bit, and it feels like a cop out, but truly I can see both sides.

On one hand, it's a fledgling company who wants to make art in a way they feel proud of. It's all well and good for us to say "we were here when the text was blue and yellow and we don't care about production value", but as someone who in her own right creates - whether its gifs or writing or silly little scrapbook pages - it's about creating something you believe is of the highest quality you can create.

Not only that, it's also about being a company that can support its employees and pay them a more-than living wage. It's potentially about being able to fulfill promises to people who had invested in Watcher in the beginning, though I know less about that.

To say that 'they make bank' with patreon and sponsorships and merch when they support a staff of over 20 people is potentially untrue. What seems like corporate greed can have several layers.

On the other hand, it's not an overreaction for fans to feel abandoned and disregarded - especially those in non-Western countries, as well as younger fans.

Fans feeling bitter at being told that USD5.99 is an amount 'anybody and everybody can afford' isn't unreasonable. It's a large amount for many fans who live in countries where several USD is a quarter of what they earn in a month, or even for people who are at stages in their life where everything they earn has to go into keeping themselves fed and housed.

Imagine a life where you struggle so much to meet your own needs, where some of your only comforts is sitting down at the end of the day and watching people talk about conspiracies or shout at air in abandoned buildings, only to see that was being taken away from you (and by the very system that's been holding you hostage and making you miserable)? I can see why people would lash out. Why it would seem like these people who joked about eating the rich and understanding privilege have been lying all along.

To me, both of these things - creatives turning away from a highly controlled space like YouTube with its low financial returns, and fans hating that content that used to be free now has to cost them money and reading that as capitalist predatory behaviour, all stem from the same issue, which is that money and art are intertwined. Whether this is terrible and insidious or just a fact of life is another point of mixed feelings, for me.

The point is: I understand why Watcher is doing this. I understand why people don't want Watcher to do this.

Do I think it's a good thing? I'm not sure. How much will their content change? Their reasoning is feeling that they're having to make content for both their fans and advertisers, so that creates an expectation that making this decision will change what they put out in a positive way. That's added pressure. Another thing is that there is a narrative they're pushing of doing this for their audience, while of course making it inaccessible to a potentially large chunk of them. How will that bridge be crossed? These questions definitely need answering, but they need time to be answered. I'm withholding judgement until these get answered for me, and I'm ready to be patient.

Do I think it was the smart thing for them to do in the long run? I have no idea. I want it to be, because I don't want them to fail and decide to give up. It's not a nice feeling to see artists give up on making their art be their livelihood.

#watcher #watcher entertainment #shane madej #ryan bergara #steven lim

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starleska · 1 year

Note

I just saw on YouTube that MatPat has made a GTLive about Welcome Home.

I’m honestly conflicted. On the one hand, I am genuinely happy that a big YouTuber like MatPat has noticed Welcome Home, as I do love his theories on occasion.

But I’m also worried. After everything Clown has been through with the sudden rush of a massive following, and also me knowing how MatPat’s very large fan base can be VERY zealous, I’m genuinely worried for Clown. I know they’re going through a lot and are currently on a well deserved hiatus, but I do have the sudden thought that the prospect of MatPat’s fan base getting too zealous may end up doing harm in the long term for them. They have done that before on other things.

And that’s not even getting into MatPat potentially making a theory video about Welcome Home when the project hasn’t yet left the Prologue Stage of its story, which may end up again doing harm.

I wonder what your opinion on all of this may be. What do you think of MatPat covering this potentially as a theory and do you worry about his fan base becoming zealous for Welcome Home?

hello sweetheart! thank you so much for sending in this ask, and for putting your thoughts down in such a respectful manner - very well articulated 💖 i'm going to pop my response under a read more, as i feel it deserves a good chunk of text for a reply.

and if you're a new Welcome Home fan - welcome to the fandom! 🥰 here's a simple guide i wrote which explains what Welcome Home is, where the story is taking place, and how you can support the creator.

okay, here we go! ✨

first of all, i understand why you're concerned. this explosive growth has been tough for Clown - and having caught the edge of the tidal wave of attention just for Welcome Home fanworks, i don't blame them for being so stressed! no one could've predicted Welcome Home would blow up so much, although it is a testament to Clown's artistic talent and skill 🔥

here's the thing: fandom isn't something you can control. i feel that even though this concern comes from a good place, we may be sliding a little too close to gatekeeping territory, and that isn't fair. i totally get what you're saying about the overzealous part, but i don't believe there's anything inherent about being a fan of MatPat's content which would cause someone to behave in a disrespectful, boundary-overstepping manner. let's be clear: we are not inherently more deserving of enjoying Welcome Home just because we discovered it earlier, or any other trait that would separate the earlier fandom from a new influx of fans from MatPat.

again, i sympathise with your perspective. i was an old MatPat fan myself: a real creepypasta-obsessed teen who discovered all sorts of cool fandoms through him and other channels! but i don't think Welcome Home being covered by MatPat means there's a higher risk of harm, or that those fans in particular are more likely to exhibit inappropriate behaviour. i worry about fandoms which, when trying to make sure everyone is being respectful, end up creating an us vs. them mentality...and there's nothing i dislike more than fans who believe they're more entitled to enjoy media more for artificial reasons, like if they discovered it earlier, or know more about the property, or engage in fandom the 'correct' way (whatever that means) 😕

i think that just because Clown is (very understandably!) stressed and needs time to adjust, doesn't mean we should try and halt the popularity of Welcome Home - which would be both unfair and impossible. there's no criteria for whether or not someone can be a fan - all that is to be expected is that they are respectful and kind. we should continue as always: being respectful, and echoing Clown's wishes. i think we should welcome all these new fans and show them a great time! and if a fan does do something harmful, we shouldn't attack them; instead, we should let them know why that's not okay, and not assume everyone is out to do harm. ignorance isn't always out of malice, and many of us discussing this issue have the luxury of being older, and having had our younger years in fandom under much less scrutiny. perhaps there's this lingering anxiety due to the claims of fans doxxing/hacking, which Clown has since debunked as being odd fandom rumours.

ultimately, Clown put Welcome Home out into the world for other people to enjoy. MatPat is allowed to make theories on Welcome Home, and his fans are allowed to enjoy it too. this is the same as an unknown video game being covered by Markiplier, or a similar property being picked up by the nerdcore music community. yes, it's likely MatPat's fans may be on the younger side, and perhaps inexperienced with fandom etiquette or boundaries. however, this is a generalisation! i feel perhaps this anxiety with new fans coming in has something to do with our own overzealousness, and how in the early days we began making fanworks/interacting with Clown's content in ways which he's since stated he's not comfortable with 💖

at the end of the day: whether we're 13 or 55; whether we compile large documents full of information about the Welcome Home story or write gushing posts about how cute Wally Darling is; whether we've known Clown's work for years or are just discovering it today - we're all fans, and we all deserve to be here. being zealous is what fandom is all about! the best thing we can do is just keep on putting out positive energy, and encouraging all of that lovely, budding excitement. let's keep helping new fans learn about the amazing story of Welcome Home, and making them feel welcome too 🥰

#i hope this answers your question anon!! 💖#welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home discussion #starleskatalks #starleskasks

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panharmonium · 4 months

Note

What do you think about this: "Kakashi was never interested in Sasuke as an individual, he only projected himself into him and saw a smaller version of himself on Sasuke, Sasuke was never Sasuke to him, just a little Kakashi". I wanted to know your opinion because I miss your meta posts and I feel like lately people are hating Kakashi for things that aren't real :/, also you are really good at explaining and I feel that both characters need love

Hello! Thanks for the question!

The answer to "what do i think about this" is, honestly, that I don't think about it X) I watched the whole show without engaging with the fandom at all (for fear of spoilers, initially), so I was able to experience it without being exposed to anyone else's thoughts, and now that I'm done I generally still avoid poking around, because devoting mental energy to opinions that I find bizarre/not supported by the text doesn't enhance my fandom experience.

Kakashi and Sasuke's relationship is one of the most compelling things about the series to me. I was very surprised when I finished the show/manga and first exposed myself to the fandom only to find so few people invested in them, but at this point I've (mostly) stopped asking myself "what show was everyone else watching" and just settled into enjoying the show that I watched, because that's more fun for me. I can't convince people not to dislike Kakashi if that's what they want to do. I do find it a little weird, because I don't think that's what the story is asking from us, but as long as people mind their business and aren't bugging me on my own blog, they're free to do what they want.

I know it can be frustrating when there are people hating various characters for "things that aren't real," but the fact that these criticisms aren't "real" is precisely why I generally avoid engaging with them. For Kakashi, specifically, there are certain things people can say that will immediately make me stop taking them seriously - "projecting" is one. "Bootlicking" is another, but again, these terms are so wildly inaccurate that I'm not interested in talking about them. The manga and the show are easily accessible; if people want to rewatch/re-read them, they can.

In general, I just prefer to avoid engaging with most of the fandom negativity I see. I think overall most of the rancor I've stumbled across boils down to people engaging with the story in very ungenerous ways, if that makes sense, and that's not how I prefer to read/watch things. Like - back when I was still in the middle of watching the show, I remember someone sent me a message saying that they loved seeing me talk about the story with earnestness/joy, and it was such a lovely message to receive, but it also made me pause and wonder for a second if this was really an uncommon enough thing to be remarked upon. Wouldn't that be the default? Aren't we all here because we love the story and the characters so much? But the truth is that sometimes it does feel like large chunks of fandom spaces (not just Naruto, I mean; I've certainly experienced this elsewhere) are very focused on being negative about "things that aren't real," as you said. Like - people calling Sakura "abusive" for bopping Naruto on the head when he says something rude, when this is not something the text is even remotely trying to say about her. People writing off Jiraiya's entire storyline because of the non-consensual spying on women - which, yes, of course, is disgusting and wrong. Obviously. I am very aware of that. However, I can simultaneously recognize that the story isn't really interested in that or intending me to read it like that; the voyeurism is written as a joke (yes, I understand how gross that is) and there are a hundred potential personal and/or patriarchal and/or genre-related and/or cultural factors that may have gone into Kishimoto writing this particular fail. If I want to understand and appreciate what the story was ACTUALLY trying to communicate with Jiraiya (that he's an idealist who gave up on the world when everything went wrong, who turned to shallow pleasures of the flesh to distract him from the pain of his disillusionment, and who was finally restored to his former faith after meeting Naruto), then I have to mindfully set the voyeurism aside and go, "This writer wrote a gross thing, and I recognize that, but I'm also not going to fixate on it, because I can simultaneously appreciate/find meaning in what he was really trying to say."

I think some of the Kakashi complaints out there very much fall under this umbrella. If I have to see one more person frothing at the mouth about Kakashi briefly tying Sasuke (a qualified ninja who has already demonstrated his ability to escape rope restraints and whom Kakashi has been individually mentoring, sparring against, and connecting with for a month) to a tree for approximately sixty seconds - honestly. I don't know how to tell people they're missing the point, so I don't bother.

Ultimately, the fact of the matter is that people are entitled to dislike any character that they want, even for contrived reasons. As long as they're doing their own thing in their own space and letting me do my thing in mine, we're good.

#now - don't get me wrong; my sister and i vent to each other all the time about the bad takes we've seen #a vent session can be extremely satisfying #and sometimes typing up a complain-y rant is good for the soul #but ultimately when it comes down to what i spend my time posting about #i'd rather spend most of my time writing about the stuff i love instead of refuting all of the opinions i don't agree with #it's just fandom in the end #i'm here to enjoy myself and connect with other people who enjoy the story in a similar way #i assume other people are here to do that too - even when our modes of enjoyment look very different #as long as we're chilling in our own spaces and not hopping onto other people's posts to start arguments #everything's good #naruto #replies #fandom

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1d1195 · 1 year

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Therapy IV

I didn't think I'd be writing a part four for this Therapy series if it wasn't for this message, thank you so much to this lovely anon.

Warnings: 18+ topics mentioned, jealous Harry

“My God, you’re beautiful,” she spun around and smiled at Harry approaching her much like the last time. “Y’really gonna be the death of me in this dress, kitten."

Hey, kitten, how’s your day? xx

The smile that popped onto her face made her stomach flutter at the same time as she opened her message from Harry. All she could think about was his sweet-dimpled face and his pretty eyes. Texting him at lunch time had become a routine for them. A quick check-in to get each other through the rest of the day.

It’s good, how’s yours?

It feels long. I want to go home and watch a movie with you.

She shamelessly giggled at her phone while she responded. Same here. I think it’s your turn to pick.

Well, I don’t actually plan on watching it, so I’ll let you pick. I just want to look at you and kiss you and stuff.

And stuff?

Good stuff, I promise. xx

She felt her cheeks warm even though no one was around her. I like the way you think, Harry.

Her phone rang instead of his response to her. “Hi,” Harry said cutely.

She giggled. “Hi.”

“I jus’ wanted t’say that no one in my past relationships ever really called me Harry,” he said. “So I like when you use it.”

“Hmm,” she hummed with a grin. “That’s cute,” she giggled.

“Don’t make me blush.”

“Hey love,” It was so shocking that Harry felt like his whole body stopped it’s auto-functioning. He was certain he stopped breathing. It felt like his heart nearly exploded out of his chest at the sound of someone else calling her “love.”

“Hold on one second,” she said to the phone. Harry wanted to die that she was going to respond.

“Oh sorry,” the voice said. Harry was bristling with anger at the interruption.

“It’s okay, what’s up?” Harry didn’t like that she thought it was okay that he was interrupting their phone call.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I know you’re on your lunch,” Harry wished he could see him. He also wished to strangle him, but through the phone he knew it wouldn’t be possible. “But it’s an absolute shitshow in this meeting right now. We can’t add two numbers together to save our lives and we’re about to make your job a whole lot harder if you don’t help us soon.”

“Leave it to you to call on the accountant for math help—I appreciate you trying to make my job easier.”

“Who else would I ask, love?” He chuckled. Again, Harry was nearly sweating with how angry he was.

“I’ll be one minute,” she said and then to Harry she sighed. “M’sorry, Harry. I have to go.”

Trying to contain how frustrated he was by something that was not her fault was next to impossible. But he thought he managed well given the circumstances of how he was really feeling. “Oh, s’alright. I’ll see y’at home, kitten.”

“Bye, Harry. Love you,” she said it so sweetly Harry almost forgot that he was grumpy.

“I love you, too, baby,” he managed to respond feeling the anger slowly melt away because his love for her was so encompassing he couldn’t feel mad when he was thinking about her, let alone when all he felt was love for her.

But the second she was no longer at the other end of the phone call he was all out of sorts. It had nothing to do with her. Everything he felt was in direct response to the mystery male voice that called her love. She wasn’t his love. She was Harry’s and that was it. Harry knew she was being polite. For fuck’s sake he called most people he knew love. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary and it wasn’t wrong to do it.

But he didn’t like it one bit that someone at work, with whom she spent a large chunk of time with each day, called her some pet name. What was worse, Harry knew it wasn’t the first time he called her love, and it wasn’t going to be the last. Maybe if he was significantly older Harry wouldn’t care. But until Harry knew who it was, he was going to writhe in anxiety and simmer in anger.

Immediately after, Harry cancelled his final appointment—one that wasn’t dire, so he didn’t feel too bad for his client. He also knew he would be no help if he attempted to talk and listen with him. His mind was set on one thing, and he was lucky he had enough brain power left to drive himself home without crashing from lack of attention. It didn’t stop him, however from throwing himself a pity party all the way back to their shared apartment, sulking in how mad and grumpy he felt.

On a regular day, Harry typically got home after her so he never really got a chance to spoil her by doing the little things she always took care of without so much as a question of whether it would be done or not. He threw the laundry in the washer and reloaded the dishwasher so he could get started on dinner. He didn’t really know what to make but he figured if she didn’t have to think about it, that would be nice so he settled on one of her favorite pasta dishes that Harry loved to make for her.

He heard the door open about an hour and a half after he got in. He was sitting on the stool at the breakfast bar reading his book while minding the food cooking in front of him. “Hey kitten,” he called gently.

“You got home early!” She said with delight, and he was again so affronted by how much he adored her as she all but ran from taking her shoes off and hurrying to his side. He turned on the little stool and she pushed herself between his thighs wrapping her arms around his neck as she nuzzled against his body. He once again nearly forgot he was mad. He kissed the side of her head and rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“Cancelled with m’last client,” he murmured into her hair.

She sighed contentedly and nodded against his chest. “How nice,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“How was the rest of your day?” He asked.

“It was fine...um...we’re having a company party next Friday night. It’s at this fancy club and I’m allowed to bring you, so I wanted to know if you’d like to come.”

“I always like coming with you, kitten,” he said flirtatiously.

“Shush,” she giggled and shook her head against his shirt. Harry chuckled and kissed the side of her head.

“Of course, m’love,” he said quietly. He felt the anger return once he realized he wasn’t the only one calling her love anymore. “Y’said it’s fancy. Can I request y’wear that dress y’wore to the birthday dinner?”

“I’d be okay with that,” she giggled. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Harry combed her hair away from her ear and pressed another kiss to her temple and nodded. “Can always sneak y’off into the bathroom,” he hummed into her ear. She shivered against him, and she shook her head.

“Don’t tempt me,” she mumbled.

“I believe that dress has a slit up y’leg that I like very much,” he responded. “Would be easy enough.”

“Stop,” she said. “Don’t turn me on if dinner is going to be ready soon. I’m hungry,” she reminded him.

He chuckled. “Yes, kitten,” he said and released her from the hug he had held her captive in for the last few moments. “It’ll be ready soon, go do whatever it is y’do when m’not here,” he said.

She wandered down the hall toward the bathroom as she called back to him. “You mean run around naked?”

“Now who’s tempting who?”

She noted that Harry had seemed much clingier over the week. Instead of their daily texting conversation around lunch time, he started video chatting with her instead. “Just miss your face,” he said.

She smiled at him and felt her face warm at his assessment. She liked it though. Everything about Harry made her feel so loved and adored. Being with him as a roommate was almost no different than being his girlfriend, save for, he was much touchier, there were more kisses, and of course there were a lot more orgasms. “I miss you too,” she said.

It was true. If she could, she would spend every minute with Harry. She was certain she would never get sick of him. She hoped that she wasn’t clingy, but Harry never had anything less than a smile. Even their arguments were silly—there wasn’t anything to argue about because everything was near perfect. (There was one time there was bug and Harry chased her around the whole apartment with it between his fingers until she cried—that caused quite a tiff but nothing a few kisses from him couldn’t fix.)

But Harry was rarely clingy. She had to be careful because the last thing she wanted to do was to overwhelm him. Seeing Harry acting clingy though...well it was nice. It was different and she liked the fact that she wasn’t the only one obsessed in the relationship. But it did make her wonder why he was acting this way. But not enough to ask.

Much like her friend’s birthday dinner, Harry was going to meet her at the party after he got out of work. In the same fashion as the day of the dinner, she waited outside patiently for Harry before entering.

“Hey, you coming in, or are you just going to stand out here all night?” It was her coworker as she headed up the steps to get inside.

She let out a breath of laughter. “Maybe,” she said sarcastically. “I’m just waiting on my boyfriend.”

“Oooh, the infamous boyfriend. Gonna break a lot of hearts in there tonight,” she said knowingly.

Tilting her head at her she blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, surely you know that everyone in the office is in love with you,” she rolled her eyes.

Her jaw fell open a bit and she blinked slowly. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re hot, you’re smart, you’re nice, you’re exactly the type of girl these guys want to take home to mom,” she rolled her eyes. “They’re all hoping your boyfriend isn’t real.”

Feeling her face flush red, she didn’t really know what to say in response to that. “You’re joking,” she whispered instead.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Probably just a dick measuring contest. Although if I’m to believe social media, sounds like your boyfriend will win if he’s a sex therapist. Sorry for snooping but us ladies have to stick together,” she said. Seeing that didn’t quell the worry on her friend’s face she smiled gently. “Hey, I’m only kidding. Really, it’s totally fine. They’re all just jealous you’re taken, is all.”

Rolling her lips into her mouth she shook her head. “Maybe I shouldn’t go in,” she said.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You look incredible. You can’t not go in. It will be fine. You don’t have to stay long if it because a real issue. I’m sure your boyfriend can fend off a few finance bros,” she said knowingly. She pressed a hand on her upper arm when she still didn’t manage to assuage her fears. “Really, it’ll be okay. I’m sorry to have upset you.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry. I know, I know. It’ll be fine. I’m just being dramatic.”

She smiled sweetly. “If you need help just send me a smoke signal and I’ll come up with an emergency,” she winked. “You’ll be fine. Please introduce me to your boyfriend I have a few bedroom questions for him,” she wiggled her eyebrows at her suggestively once more and fortunately that did make her laugh as she waved and headed inside.

Alone with her thoughts she paced slightly in front of the entry way. She looked at the menu posted outside the door in hopes of distracting herself. Reading the different entrees didn’t help much; in fact, she strongly considered calling Harry she wasn’t feeling well. Then, he wouldn’t come to the club, and they could just go spend their date night at home instead. It wasn’t that she believed they were all in love with her, that wasn’t something her humble self could imagine. But what she did believe: it would be entirely cruel to Harry to make him suffer through an evening that she anticipated being a fun date night where she could show off how cute he was when other guys were supposedly looking at her longingly.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” she spun around and smiled at Harry approaching her much like the last time. “Y’really gonna be the death of me in this dress, kitten,” Harry said wrapping an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek in greeting. “Did y’have a nice day?” He asked scanning over her whole body. His smile grew as he looked her over. It was amazing he had no idea about the apparent tumult that was about to ensue if she walked in there.

“Yeah,” she said and her eyes also, shamelessly, scanned Harry up and down. “You look...” she sighed and her smile grew on her face by the second. “Maybe we will end up in the bathroom.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t make it hard fo’ me t’walk in there, love,” he murmured in her ear and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Let’s go show off this dress before I rip it off you.”

Harry wondered if she knew everyone was looking at her. Harry was introduced to every one of her coworkers and they nearly paid no mind to him at all as they took in her ethereal being. The only one that paid any attention to him was her female coworker that had no less than fifteen questions about the bedroom. He took each one in stride because it was his corner of the world and he loved sharing his knowledge and advice about how to make things better.

“Well now that we’re close Harry, what can you tell me about stimulating the g-spot?”

“Jesus Christ,” she said putting a hand over her eyes. “Why don’t you take his card,” she laughed. “I’m going to lose my mind,” she said.

Harry chuckled and smirked. “I like your questions,” he promised her. “They’re good ones,” he assured her. “Sounds like you have a healthy bedroom life,” he winked at her.

“I like him,” she whispered to the sweet girl in the beautiful dress but obviously Harry could hear. “Bring him any time,” she said and gave her arm a squeeze and mumbled something in her ear before she flitted away to start some other conversation. Harry didn’t pay much attention to whatever she mumbled.

“She’s fun,” Harry remarked as they headed toward the bar to get another drink. Harry liked the way she held his upper arm as they walked. He loved having her attached to his arm; he thought they must have looked like the classiest power couple.

Harry wasn’t with her because she was beautiful—there were so many other important reasons why he adored her. The fact she was beautiful was the icing on the cake. Getting to show her off as his girlfriend was one of his favorite past times.

Especially when he could show her off in front of most of her coworkers who he already despised.

He tried. Really tried. He showed up with an open mind—he didn’t think about the guy that called her love the entire ride over. He was going to be good; he wasn’t going to worry about anything like that while he was with her. The last thing Harry wanted was to embarrass her at work.

But the second the two entered the room he felt every pair of eyes gaze at the gorgeous girl at his side. Naturally, she had no idea. Harry was grateful for that because as he was ready to lose his mind, she gave his hand a squeeze as she thanked him for being there.

There wasn’t a world in which he wouldn’t do literally anything for her.

“Oh loads,” she rolled her eyes. “I think we’re going to have dinner soon, thank God.”

“Y’hungry, kitten?” He chuckled. She nodded silently, sighing dramatically. He smirked. “Well, d’you want t’find us some seats and I’ll grab the drinks?”

“Are you sure?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together with worry. Worry about what, Harry wasn’t sure.

He nodded. “I think I can manage a vodka cranberry and m’own drink.”

“And find our seats?” She wrinkled her nose cutely at her own joke.

“Might be tough. Might have t’actively think ‘bout breathing t’keep m’self going.”

She giggled. “Okay, thank you, Harry.”

“Anything for you, m’love,” he mumbled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. With a squeeze of his bicep, she released him to go find a pair of seats.

Harry knew it was a risk to let her go alone but he hoped as professionals they wouldn’t turn this evening into an issue...and they wouldn’t turn into vultures. As Harry turned with the two drinks in hand he practically knew they would be all over her. There the poor thing was guarding Harry’s seat beside her as if her life depended on it.

Of course, Harry couldn’t come storming in like an idiot. So, as much as he wanted to run to her side so he could protect her—even if she didn’t truly need protecting—he casually sauntered over. “Here, kitten,” he said softly and placed the drink over her shoulder.

“Oh, hi,” she said and while no one else heard it, it made Harry happy he heard the relief in her voice. Harry sat down beside her squeezing her shoulder as he sat down. Effortlessly, she reached for Harry’s hand once he was seated and squeezed once her fingers threaded through his. She began introducing everybody to Harry, who all nodded at him respectfully, but Harry could see the competition in their eyes. He didn’t like it. Harry knew there was no competition. But it still made all the blood run hot inside him. “This is my boyfriend, Harry,” she said finally.

“We thought she made you up,” one of them snickered.

Harry forced a smile and nodded. “M’very real,” he promised.

She gave his hand another tight squeeze. “Oh, thank God you got a seat across from me!” The only coworker of hers that Harry enjoyed: the lovely girl who asked tons of questions. Although Harry prayed she wouldn’t ask any of them right now. He knew that their minds would only be on one thing—and that was the gorgeous girl beside him. It was infuriating how much Harry loved that dress on her and now he wanted her to be wearing anything but that dress—and not in a fun way. She directed a smile at her and Harry could see out of the corner of his eye that she was clearly uncomfortable.

“I see you all met Harry, I told you he was real,” she rolled her eyes.

“She’s got no pictures of you, Harry,” one of them smirked. “She once made up this imaginary delivery...so we couldn’t be sure,” he explained.

“I found that delivery, thank you very much. I didn’t see any of you running around the building trying to match the picture,” she rolled her eyes as she sipped her drink.

Harry smirked and shook his head as he sipped his own drink. Less is more he thought to himself regarding talking to all of the guys that looked at him as if he was the enemy. She seemed to relax a bit as her grip on his hand lessened as the seconds ticked by. Everyone was engrossed in a story and the upcoming Monday Meeting, so Harry was able to enjoy the moment even though he still felt a bit on edge. Dinner was going to be served at any moment, so they all took seats around the table.

Harry couldn’t help but notice how close the guy beside her was sitting. Beneath the table Harry felt her knee bump against his and she whispered a sorry under her breath. He gave her hand a squeeze and took another sip of his drink. Harry and she made small talk and eventually he had to release her hand so he could eat. It nearly killed him.

“Any trips planned for your vacation?” Her friend asked as she brought a bite of salad to her mouth.

“We’re doing a weekend down by the coast,” Harry answered as she was in the middle of chewing. She pressed the napkin to her lips politely and she nodded.

“A wine tour and just a day by the beach will do me some good,” she smiled.

“Oh, how lovely,” she cooed.

“There’s a really good bookshop down by the hotel you’re staying at,” one of the guys across the table said. Harry felt his muscles tense knowing they all knew where they were staying. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. Harry wasn’t mad that she told him; that’s what coworkers did—they talked to each other. He just wished with everything in him that they didn’t think she was gorgeous the way he thought she was. “The missus really likes it, and I know you like books too,” he said kindly. Harry felt his muscles relax a bit—the missus, this guy was okay. Fine, Harry could eat his pasta in peace now.

“Amazing,” she grinned happily. “Just need a coffee shop and I’ll be good for the whole weekend,” she joked.

“M’sure they’ll have one,” Harry chuckled.

“It’s impressive how much coffee she can drink,” this time it was the guy to her right. “If she could do it with beer she could compete.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that much.”

“It’s at least three cups. You’re constantly doing Starbucks runs,” the one beside his eyes.

She shrugged. “I like coffee.”

Harry chuckled. “I’ll get you a coffee maker like the one in m’office,” Harry suggested quietly.

“Office, huh? Are you an accountant as well? Is that how you both met?”

This time Harry saw her muscles tense. “Oh, no...er...we went to the same college,” Harry said. “I studied psychology...I’m a therapist,” he said breezily. The girl across from them took a gulp of her drink and eyed the table suspiciously. The poor thing beside Harry knew that he was keeping specific details away from the people she worked with, and she was so grateful Harry just knew that he should do that.

“Oh cool,” he responded. “My mom’s a therapist. What’s your specialty?”

Harry didn’t miss a beat, as if he had planned on answering. “I deal with people who struggle with their relationships mostly,” he said.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s one of the best things I’ve done with my life. S’very rewarding,” Harry said proudly.

They all seemed to nod in agreement. “Not like here,” one snorted. It was a joke, because financial business was obviously completely different than therapeutic business. This resulted in laughter and fortunately got them away from the topic for which she was so relieved.

“Harry’s nice,” the guy beside her whispered.

“Mm, he’s the best,” she answered softly as she continued eating.

“Lucky guy he is,” he murmured. She ignored the comment. She didn’t want to start anything. But Harry saw her cheek turn one shade pinker. Beneath the table he gave her leg a gentle squeeze.

They just had to get through dinner and dessert.

Unfortunately, dinner turned into several drinks before dessert was even a thought. While the conversation was carefree and no one seemed to be having the dick measuring competition her friend alluded to, it was obvious that her coworkers had too much to drink. They were loud, rowdy, and definitely over the top. Harry graciously took it in stride, draping his arm across the back of her chair so he could squeeze her shoulder every now and again.

The conversation ebbed and flowed between work and leisure activities. Harry actually went to the same gym as the one coworker he did like (the one with a missus) and they had a good laugh about something that had happened to one of the machines the week prior. Another coworker also shared their affinity for books and recommended some titles for Harry which he took down in his phone.

But it was just as dessert was finishing that the guy beside her became a bit too much. It felt like it happened in slow motion, his arm knocking the drink over into her lap causing her to stand up instinctively making her own drink spill on her as well. “Shit,” he hissed.

She gasped at the coldness, the liquid sadly seeping into the beautiful dress Harry loved so much. But of course, all pairs of eyes were on her pretty chest where the coldness made her nipples harden against the fabric of her dress. Harry felt his blood burn through his veins again as the stupidly drunk guy started dabbing his napkin against her dress. “It’s fine,” she said quickly trying to brush his hand away and Harry stood as well, pulling his suit coat off and around her shoulders because he wanted to hide her nipples as quickly as possible.

They were practically drooling over her, and it made him want to murder someone, probably someone at the table, specifically.

“I got it, thank you,” she said politely as he continued dabbing at her dress. While his brain must have been foggy with alcohol, it wasn’t his fault it was the center of her dress that was ruined. Harry was nearly steaming as his hands started drifting over her thigh. She flushed brightly as she shooed his hands away again and Harry couldn’t take it, he lightly pulled her toward him stepping away from their chairs. “Enough, mate, she’s fine,” he said grumpily.

“Oh no,” she heard it from her coworker across the table.

“He was just trying to help,” one said rolling his eyes drunkenly.

“Shut up,” the only taken man besides Harry hissed back.

Harry took a deep breath trying to keep collected when all he wanted to do was throw something at these idiots. “Help? He ruined her dress?”

“I think he did us all a favor,” one snorted quietly.

“Oh, God,” she whispered again from across the table taking another large gulp of the drink in front of her.

“Oh,” Harry said flatly wrapping his arm around her tightly, so the opened front of his coat wrapped snugly around her, too. “Why’s that?”

“Harry,” she whispered and turned her face toward his chest, but she couldn’t look up to meet his gaze because he was busy glaring at the rest of the table.

“You’re a lucky guy Harry,” the idiot said.

Harry didn’t respond—he knew he was lucky. He didn’t care if she walked around naked in front of everyone, he knew she was all his, but he did not like the way they ogled her as if she was just something to be desired. She was so much more than that.

“Let’s go,” she whispered to Harry.

“Oh, come on, love,” it was the voice from the phone call.

“Don’t call her love,” Harry snapped.

“Harry,” she whispered gently again. She felt horrible—so horrible.

“Please don’t go; m’sorry about your dress. You still look gorgeous in it—I’ll have it dry cleaned for you,” he said. “Take it off and I’ll bring it back for you—”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, something not good she was sure, but she ignored it and gave Harry a hard shove toward the door as she snagged her purse off the back of her chair. Harry released his hold around her shoulders and grabbed her hand as he fumed, leaving through the door. In heels it was nearly impossible to keep up with Harry. “Harry, slow down please,” she whispered. He slowed barely, pulling her to his car. He opened the passenger door and nearly shoved her inside.

“We’ll get your car tomorrow,” he grumbled and closed her door angrily as he stalked around to the other side.

“Harry, wait,” she pleaded as he shoved the key into the ignition angrily. He was still fuming and she didn’t want him to drive if he was this mad.

“M’fine,” he snapped.

She was silent. With her hands in her lap the only comfort she had was Harry’s smell from his jacket wrapped around her. He sped home, breathing heavily, her heart raced at how tense it felt in the small space of the car. It was so quiet she wanted to cry. She felt like it was her fault and her whole body felt achy with worry.

Once parked outside the building, Harry gripped his steering wheel with both hands and stared out the windshield into the dark as if he could see through the darkness.

Eventually, she couldn’t take the silence a moment longer and finally spoke. Wringing her hands together, nervously. “Harry, I’m sorry,” she whispered. He remained silent, didn’t even look at her, which worried her more. When she worried—especially about Harry—she tended to ramble. “I... I truly had no idea they liked me up until tonight. In fact, until four minutes before you showed up. I’m so sorry. I never would have put you in that position and it wasn’t fair to ask you to come. It was so nice of you to do it. They don’t act like that in the office, I promise. I don’t...” she shook her head, tears filling her vision. She knew it wasn’t really her fault, but it felt like it and Harry not talking made her feel worse. “If I knew—"

“Y’can’t leave me for one of them,” he muttered and glanced down at his lap before looking out the windshield again.

She released a small gasp processing the words as they made it to her ears. “W-what?” She whispered.

Closing his eyes like he was in pain, Harry sighed. “Someone called you love when I was on the phone with you the other day,” he explained. “Made me mad,” he muttered.

She the blush flood her cheeks. “But—”

“I know,” he said without having to hear her thought process. He already knew what she was going to say. “It doesn’t make sense,” he shook his head. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “Then...tonight. Obviously, I wouldn’t skip this for you,” he promised. “But...I couldn’t imagine you in this...” he finally turned to look at her and he scanned her up and down again. “I couldn’t imagine not being around you when y’looked so stunningly attractive,” he bit his lip. “They have every right t’think you’re beautiful—because you are, kitten. You’re...s’pretty. S’impossible to be rational. I can’t blame them for looking at you. For wanting me t’not exist. If I were them, I’d be jealous of me.”

“Harry,” she breathed. “But you are...you.”

He shrugged. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, kitten,” he repeated. "The devil doesn’t have anything on how temptin’ you are,” he smirked sadly. “S’not your fault,” he shook his head sighing again. “M’jus’... I’ve never been s’jealous in m’life,” he said looking back at his hands. She wanted to smooth out the wrinkle he made in his forehead. “I don’t like that other men know how beautiful y’are. I want t’keep you all t’m’self,” he murmured. “So...please don’t leave me for one of them,” he repeated.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“I know, I know, kitten. S’jus...” he sighed.

“Harry...I don’t think I could leave you for anyone,” she told him.

He smiled and turned to look at her. “M’sorry for acting like a jealous caveman.”

“They were out of line.”

“Doesn’t mean I needed t’act like that,” he shrugged. “I jus’ didn’t like the way they looked at you.”

She looked down at her stained dress, Harry’s coat draped around her, and she looked back toward Harry. “You have nothing to be jealous about,” she promised. “M’so in love with you...and...you’re the only one that can make me cum, obviously,” she reminded him.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “S’that the only reason y’keep me around?” He murmured. He sounded like he was kidding but she could hear the worry in his voice.

“There’s about a hundred other reasons before that, you silly goose,” she promised.

They sat in comfortable silence for another moment. “We better get y’inside and out of that dress,” he said quietly. She nodded in response.

Harry unclipped his seatbelt. “I hope that stain comes out,” he frowned. “You look extra beautiful every time I see you in it,” he reminded her.

She blushed and smiled as she turned from him bashfully unclipping her belt as well. “Thank you,” she said cutely. Harry gave her knee a squeeze.

“I also want y’out of your dress so I can make y’cum so hard y’would have ruined the dress anyway...They weren’t the only ones looking at your pretty little nipples when the drinks spilled on you,” he promised so easily it sent a shock of electricity all through the center of her body.

“Oh...oh...” she repeated herself dumbly as he came around to her side to help her out of the car. His eyes dipped down to the V of her dress and he watched as her nipples poked against the fabric once more. He smirked and brushed his thumbs over each one as he sighed. She moaned quietly.

“Better make sure m’the only one who continues t’make y’cum,” his voice was so warm and seductive it made her press her thighs together for some sort of relief. As he whispered across her cheeks and pressed his lips against hers, she felt every word he spoke surge through her body like an electric current. “Better do it, quick, too, huh, m’love?”

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yanderes-galore · 11 months

Note

hello buddy ol pal how you been

now i've been getting a huge hyperfixation on withered bonnie, but i dont really know what to request soo.

maybe both your prompt 23 and 57? if you cannot then please do tell me

Hello friendo ☺️ Sorry for your request being so late.

Sure! I already texted you to ask for a plot so I will now get to work on doing it :) I apologize if it is too short, I did struggle on the plot despite what I was given. No dead kids as usual, it's more like Security Breach.

Yandere! Withered Bonnie Prompts 23 + 57

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Violence, Self-Aware robot, Leans platonic but can be seen as both due to how I write the FNAF characters, Bonnies sort of oblivious due to errors in his coding, Forced companionship.

Loneliness corrodes his servos like rust. Bonnie's a bot built for entertainment. He's meant to sing and dance on a stage with his guitar. Was he just meant to be a large toy?

Was he just meant to be cast into a closet forever to rot after they stole from him?

All just to make a new toy? One blue with shiny new paint?

Bonnie itched for someone to entertain... he wanted to mean something to someone again!

Then he found you...

By accident, he found you, his partially blind optics scanning you eagerly. You would be perfect! You'd be the perfect person to satiate this festering desire deep in his code.

He knows his appearance is frightening... but he promises he's friendly! He hates that you stare at him with such fear.... Sure, he stepped out of his room when he wasn't supposed to...

But he promises he won't hurt his new friend...

So why do you hide in the office? Has he done something wrong? You trick his sensors into thinking there's no one there...

But he knows you are.

You're there and he's determined to exhaust you.

After all... you'll slip up at some point. His newer model had one thing going for it... it was just as persistent as him. Bonnie also had the help of every other bot here.

The moment he sees you do something wrong... a minor slip up due to that music box or flashlight malfunction... he pounces. For a rabbit, he's a hunter, and you're his prey.

When he suddenly slips in, faceless endo staring you down... you falter. The mask fails to come down fast enough. This slight error allows him to capture his prize.

A new friend to play with.

---

You wake up with a heavy feeling in your body. You thought your life flashed before your eyes. You messed up at your job... yet the cold jaws of death itself didn't claim you.

You sit up, flinching at the sore feeling deep in your core. The room you were in was dark yet you felt cold tile underneath you. You look down, faintly seeing dark stains on your outfit. Were you injured?

You squint your eyes in an attempt to look around the room. The room was cluttered but still a little spacious. It reminded you of one of the backrooms in the pizzeria...

Wait a moment.

You move yourself onto your knees. The movement makes your head throb for a moment and your skin sting. Maybe you were cut a little?

Why were you even here?

You make a careful attempt to stand up. Stumbling momentarily you manage to stay on your feet before looking around the room. Was it still night? Where in the building were you?

*Ka-chunk*

Your thoughts are paused when you hear a metallic noise. You think something fell over before red light fills the room. Your heart stops.

What... was that?

There's more mechanical noises behind you, causing you to turn quickly. Right in front of you stands a broken rabbit animatronic. You recognize it as the old Bonnie model in the Parts & Service room. Now it was on...

Now he was staring at you...

You stay still as though the rabbit is some sort of T-Rex. Red optics of a broken endoskeleton stare you down before the bot's head tilts sideways. Fear due to not knowing where you were and being cornered by something that no doubt attacked you builds and causes your eyes to water.

You reach for the doorknob...

The knob moves, but doesn't relent...

You let out a scared cry when the rabbit jumps forward in response.

Bonnie, on the other hand, finds your response strange. He's so used to people being happy around him.... Yet here you are... his newest friend... on the brink of sobbing in front of the door he locked.

He didn't intend to scare you... his joints are just so stiff.

"You're crying... come a little closer, I'll make it all go away."

The voice of Bonnie comes out with a whining static, one glitchy and harsh on the ears. You only find yourself sobbing more before pulling and pushing on the doorknob. Bonnie makes a troubled noise in his voicebox.

"Why do you cry, friend?"

He asks, seeing your fearful eyes stare up at him.

"I just want to complete my shift and go home...."

Home... you were planning to leave? That won't do... he doesn't want to be alone again. Keeping you in this room was the better option!

In here... it's just you and him.

You'll have so much fun here... he'll have a purpose... he'll have his own chance to be in the spotlight like those plastic toys with you.

Bonnie's servos twitch and glitch, his red optics flickering momentarily before he looks between you and the door.

"You'll miss all the fun...." The rabbit whines. "I can't let you go when I have someone of my very own to play with."

"I don't like the dark... I don't like it here...!" You panic, the bot barely sensing it with his busted scanners.

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

The bot growls with static, a metal claw dragging you deeper into the room while you cry and scream. The rabbit doesn't seem to care. All that matters is dragging you into the darkness... with him.

"What game should we play, new friend?"

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf 2 #yandere withered bonnie

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topsurgerystuff · 8 days

Text

Now, I will expound upon the scary things. These are things that happened after top surgery that spooked me.

All of these things ended up being harmless, I just wasn’t told they would happen and couldn’t find any info about them so they scared me shitless. My intention here is to save others from similar needless panic. This is not medical advice, just a description of my experience. Well some of it is advice, but keep in mind that I’m fucking stupid and I don’t know shit. Also, Never for one second have I regretted this surgery. The only thing I miss about my tits is being able to grope them whenever I wanted.

Okay so first of all there was the bruises. Blood from the surgery had pooled in my love handles and all over my thighs under my skin and made these HUGE bruises, right, and they didn’t hurt but they were large and had funky colors and I thought “What if the blood rots under my skin”. I googled it, I asked all my friends, I tried to reach my doctors but it was the weekend so they didn’t answer so I went to urgent care and the doctor there was like “I dont know…. That’s scary….” So I was freaking out and decided I would simply wait for death to claim me. It was fine. When I finally got ahold of the doctor she said she’s never seen it before but to just watch it and tell her if it gets bigger. My body slurped that shit back up in a couple weeks, totally harmlessly. Why haven’t surgeons ever seen shit like that before? Probably because nobody’s ever freaked out about it enough to mention it to them. Either way, it was fine.

Secondly, when I had those drains in me, that was spooky because I thought “What if they get yanked out and tear up my shit” and I couldn’t take off the bandage too see or nothing but when I did eventually take them off, I saw that there are stitches around the pipes but not like holding them in you, just there to make sure the holes they put in you stay the same size they are. So if they get pulled out you don’t get seriously damaged, you just call them up and say yo can you put this shit back in me pls. There will also be little meat chunks coming through your tubes with your soup and the soup will be mildly funky smelling. That’s normal. I was told to tell them if there was like CRAZY amounts of meat or if the soup smelled absolutely nasty. Also the bolster things they put on your nips are attached directly to your nips and nothing else, so if you feel shit sliding around under your bandage, that’s the bandage sliding, not the bolsters. They didn’t tell me that so I thought I was gonna wake up with one on my back or something and not be able to put it back where it was. And they make it so it’ll be nice and slippery in there the whole time so don’t worry about the bolsters getting ripped off, there’s not enough friction in there to do that.

There was also the hydrocodone they gave me. For me, the incisions didn’t hardly hurt at all even immediately after surgery but they prescribed me hydrocodone so I took it, and I assumed I wasn’t hurting because of the drugs and that if I stopped taking them I would hurt a LOT. So here I am taking opioids and I’m so fucking dizzy and I’m violently throwing up for two days. I texted my doctor and begged to stop taking it because I thought I would get in trouble or something if I stopped without asking and she’s like “Yeah, you didn’t have to take it if you didn’t want to, its just there if you need something stronger” ohhhhhhhh well fuck me I guess. So I stopped taking it and it turns out I didn’t need pain meds at all because it barely hurts, it just feels like a really long paper cut.

Some other things, I popped a stitch in my armpit because when you first come home and your shits still all numbed up, you can’t feel it when you overstretch your arm so if you forget you’re not supposed to do that, you can pop a stitch. It got infected, I put some antibiotic on it, it took a long time to heal and it made the scar a little uglier but it didn’t cause anything crazy. I will say that my incisions go up into my armpits really far and it was real hard to keep them clean on account of all the sweat. My nipple grafts also had many tiny, shallow stitches and I thought “What if they fall out because they’re so shallow”. That’s normal. My dad said that’s how you do stitches for sensitive areas so they look pretty, and they do look pretty, and also they are supposed to fall out after a couple weeks, that is also normal. Just make sure they don’t fall out too soon I guess. Pretend you’re made of glass for the first 4 weeks, honestly.

Also, your nip has the little oil glands in it, right, and when you’re nip scabs over as it is supposed to, it will scab inside these oil pores and you’ll lose the whole rest of the scab and have these little leftover scraps, and you Must. Not. Pick them. Those pores in my nips are little craters now because I picked the scabs out of them. Every scab you pull off, even the ones that are thin and tiny and already hanging halfway off, is going to make your nip even uglier. You wont die but you will say “Ugh why did it do that”.

Also, my nip hole collects nasty shit in it that I have to clean out all the time and since I can’t feel anything in there I have the be VERY careful. Skin is actually very easy to puncture. And there’s like little caverns in there that also get stuff in them a lot so I still put antibiotic on my nips after I shower just in case? Not really sure if its infection or like dead skin… its been getting better over time at least. Sorry if that’s TMI but listen, somebody’s gotta talk about it.

Sometimes my scars, the main incisions, will get these little blackheads right in the middle of them or little pockets of infection, and I always pick at them and the scar tissue isn’t very strong so when you pick at things on your scar, you will break open all the blood vessels around it and have a big red spot and the scar tissue is such that you will not get the blackhead out anyway so just dont do that. Put some antibiotic on it. Honestly just put antibiotic on anything that looks sus. Antibiotic can solve anything.

Okay idk what else to say so end post goodbye.

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sebastianstansqueen · 1 year

Text

Where Do We Go from Here 8

A/N: Well this is officially down hill but the parts are longer, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 1,554

Warnings: Death, abuse, bruises, unwanted pregnancy, Loki (You’ll see what I mean) think that is all actually

Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open// Spotify Playlist

Tags: @cherryblossomsky - - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2writes - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08- @scxrletrecsmarvel - @elizacusi-blog - @valhalla-kristin - @chloe-skywalkerr-@foulpersonahandsvoid-@eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

A few weeks went by and Loki was correct if he’d told Bucky about what he does to Y/n after he kills one of his men, Bucky stopped but Loki’s abuse on her hadn’t so Y/n continued to think that Bucky did care much about her. She locked herself in the room which used to be hers, Bucky texted her. ‘I’m missing you, I don’t just wanna text you for updates, I wanna know who you have been.’

‘I’ve just been, I haven't done much, Bucky, have you been killing his men?’ You asked.

‘No, I’ve stopped, why?’ He asked.

Then a sickening feeling came over you, you ran out of the room and to the nearest bathroom, the food you ate for breakfast came out, you didn’t feel sick, “No.” You said, you check if there were pregnancy tests under there still, and they were, you peed on the stick, and waited. You froze as you saw the results, then you threw it against the wall, and you may or may not have trashed the whole bathroom, and then your room immediately after.

Bucky was impatient waiting for Y/n to respond, Steve walked into the office. “What's up Buck?”

“Waiting for a text, do we have a plan on how we're going to get her back?” He asked.

Steve shook his head. “Not yet Loki really doesn't let her out of his sight.”

You sat staring at your phone trying to figure out what to text Bucky, everything you wrote just didn’t sit right with you, you leaned your head back against the headboard and sighed as tears welled up in your eyes. Then a knock came. He was the last person you wanted to see. “Y/n.” His voice rang through the room.

“What?” You said in a weak voice.

“Dinner is ready.” He told you. You nodded, and followed him down without argument.

Loki’s brow arched when Y/n didn’t argue one bit about it, he was confused, and also he thought to himself, ‘Maybe I’ve finally broken her’. Dinner was served on plates and Y/n and once finished she walked up the steps and to Loki��s room, and just slept.

That night Loki sat in his office with a hard furrow on his brow, with some of his men sitting there, as they made plans for a hit. Then there was a soft, hesitant knock Loki huffed. “Come in.” One of his maids walked in and his brow arched. “What is it?” He asked slowly.

“Uh sir I found this in the bathroom as I was cleaning it.” She put the plastic on the desk, everyone close to the desk could tell what it was.

Loki looked at it, and he heard his victory as he saw positive written out in words with a plus sign. “All of you are excused for the night.” Loki stood up picking it up and walked out of the office, and to his room, he walked in and found Y/n turned on her side staring at the wall on the other side, he walked over to that side of the bed an kneeled in front of her, she stiffened in her spot under the blanket. “Dear.” He spoke quietly, she then hummed. “One of the cleaners found this in the bathroom.” He held up the test.

She looked at it. “Not mine.” She mumbled.

“What?” Loki hissed.

“It’s not mine, ask one of the other guys wifes, or maybe your staff, It.Is.Not.Mine.” She hissed at him.

Loki’s brow arched. “It’s not? Okay.” He reached over, and gripped a large chunk of her hair lifting her head off of the pillow. “Now tell me the truth, because if this is our baby, all of the pain, all of the hits, and hair pulling will stop immediately, but if it isn’t well life will continue as it is.” He shrugged.

Her breathing picked up as tears stung in her eyes. “Will it?” She asked as the tears rolled down.

“You have my word love.” He told Her.

The issue here is you didn’t see a hit of deceit or lie in his eyes, like you did when he claimed that Bucky killed more of his men, or when he made excuses for his abuse, this was cold honest truth like the day he told you he’d drugged you, this may have been selfish but you had to take it. “I found out today as I was working on something.” He let go of your hair right after you admitted it.

“That’s my girl, that's all you had to say.” He’d kissed you, before he went to celebrate.

You pulled up your texts with Bucky, ‘Start your hits again against him.’

‘What?’

‘Take down this fucker.’

‘I-I can’t he’ll hurt you Y/n.’

‘Not anymore.’

‘Call me.’

You walked into your room and into the closet to hide away for privacy, you called him. “Hello?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bucky asked in a calm tone. “He admitted he hits you.”

“He won’t Jimmy, he told me he’d stop, for reasons, I think he sees it's getting him nowhere.” You said in a dead serious voice. You called him Jimmy while on calls so people assumed if you heard you were talking to someone random, you didn’t want Bucky knowing about your pregnancy.

Bucky huffed. “He’s a liar Y/n, you should know he is.”

“Jimmy, you don’t know what I saw tonight.” You combed your fingers through your hair.

“Alright, but if he does anything to you, you let me know and I stop immediately.” Bucky promised, you laughed at that. “What?”

“Stop immediately is what he said, be careful.” You warned.

“You do the same.” He said before you hung up.

A few days later was the family party, and since you were Henry's daughter you were still invited, and so Loki as he had promised Bucky, you’d both show up.

Bucky saw her and he took into note the missing bruises this time, but he couldn’t help but think maybe Loki had her cover them with makeup, once Y/n was alone for a moment Bucky walked up and pulled her aside. “Did he have you cover anything up?”

“Bucky I would have texted you if he had, he hasn’t but I want to get out as soon as possible.” She whispered.

“I have something in the works.” He promised.

“Okay, good.” She smiled, before having to head off.

A few hours had passed, and Loki came up. “Hello Barnes.” His sly voice said near him.

“Loki what do you want, let's not talk business here, that's not what these parties are for.” Bucky huffed.

“I’m not here to talk business, I’m just here to say, there is no way out for Y/n now she is stuck with me, as her husband until I die.” Loki smirked.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked with furrowed brows.

“She’s pregnant.” Loki admitted.

“No, you're just saying that to get on my nerves, Laufeyson.” Bucky hissed.

“Am I?” Loki asked, then he turned to look for Y/n, he spotted her. “Y/n dear, come here!” He called out. Bucky could see how she became tense at the beckoning of Loki, but she walked over and stood by his side with a fake smile. “Y/n, my love, tell Mr.Barnes the happy news.”

She blinked at him. “About the baby?” Loki nodded, she sighed. “Mr. Barnes, yes I am pregnant.” She said with fake joy. “And I am so happy about it.”

“Well congratulations, Mrs.Laufeyson , I’m afraid I gotta go.” Bucky walked away.

You ripped yourself away from Loki’s side as you stormed a different way where you knew you could talk to Bucky, you saw him about to get into his car and you ran up to him. Loki watched from afar with a smirk while his men stood wondering what they should do, but he said nothing.

“Bucky stop.” You said as you caught up.

“What Y/n, what am I supposed to do, you are pregnant that changes everything.” He huffs.

“No, no it doesn't, there are options to this, please get me out of there.” You begged.

“Y/n, no, I can't do anything for you now, I’m sorry, you should have told me before Loki, then I could have fixed this. I could have gotten you out before he found out and then it would be easy, but now I can't do anything to help you.” He hissed as he lit a cigarette.

“Please, Bucky.” You cried. “I’ll leave with you right now.”

“Y/n, there is one thing that stops everything in this life. I don't think your father told you this because of the way you are acting right now but as soon as you end up with a kid it doesn't matter whether it is born or not, hands go off immediately.” He hissed.

“Why didn’t you fucking do that in the first place then!” You yelled. “This all could have been avoided.”

“We weren't married and you made it clear you didn’t want to be touched by me Y/n.” He hissed.

“Bucky you have to get me out now please.” You begged.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He got into his car, and backed out and left. You sat there crying.

#bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #mob au bucky x reader #mob! bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader mob au #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky x y/n #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky x reader #mafia romance

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fairlyaltheticquails · 2 years

Text

i dont shine if you dont shine

ethan winters x gn reader

you miss ethan and he misses you

warning: minor relationship issues that are talked about, reader is sad through a good chunk of this

word count: 1450

update 11/10: heavily edited

Softly closing the door behind you, you turn and sigh. It was well past the time Ethan should have been home, and yet his shoes were not sitting in their usual spot, nor had any of the lights in your shared home been turned on. You flick on the living room lights and pull out your phone.

‘Hey Hun, held up in some meetings with you know who. Be home soon <3’

Of course. The BSAA had been great in helping you and Ethan get away from Louisiana and start a new life. But, God, they were so annoying. Pulling Ethan away at a moment's notice for health checks or weapons training, often leaving you home alone to stew in your thoughts. Tonight was apparently no exception. The text from Ethan was just barely sent, so you had hours to kill before he would actually be home.

Things had been distant between you two. Either he was busy with work or a BSAA thing, and you had your job and life often meaning you two would just miss each other. One of you sneaking into bed after the other had already fallen asleep, trying not to jostle the mattress too much and wake them. Waking up in the morning to find the other already gone, and a barely warm bed in their wake. You loved Ethan so much, and you know he loves you too.

God, the early days of your relationship seem so far away. You remember sitting in his kitchen, your then-best friend sitting next to you, stealing occasional smiles and bumping thighs here and there. Consoling him when he was upset; about Louisiana, about leaving his old life behind, and about leaving Mia. He spent three years of his life looking for and mourning her, only to find out what had really happened. He was naturally devastated and had many complicated emotions while in the process of divorcing her. You would push his hair out of his face, rubbing small soft circles into his back. Him leaning on his elbows, laughing stupidly hard at a dumb joke you'd made. Coming back to his place after your first actual date just to keep talking because he has always loved your stories and you've always loved his dry humor.

And now here you are, Sitting in half-darkness by yourself.. The sadness feels crushing in the moment, and you are so tempted to call Ethan- just to hear his voice. Your thumb is hovering over his contact photo- a goofy picture of him smiling at you. You want to have him call you ‘hun’ or ‘baby’ and then finish the call with him telling you that he loves you. You put the phone back down. Standing up and turning off the kitchen light behind you.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s late when Ethan gets home. He gently pushes your shoes out of the way and sneaks his in next to them. It was quiet, he wasn't sure if you were still awake, but he was hoping maybe for the first time that week you'd be able to get ready for bed together (at least). He's longed for you.

The bedroom light peaks from under the door. The faint sound of water dripping trails from the bathroom. A plan begins to hatch in his mind.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stepping out of the steamy bathroom, you find your bedroom transformed. Several of your large soft blankets had been pulled out and laid across the bed. The overhead lights had been turned off, instead, soft light from Ethan's bedside table was illuminating the room. The TV was waiting to start up a show that you and Ethan had talked about watching together. You turn when Ethan comes lightly jogging into the room, smiling and arms outstretched.

“Hey, baby.” He mumbles as he pulls your head to his chest. You wrap your arms tightly around him, tears threatening to spill over. He always knows, it’s why you love him. He rocks you for a moment before pulling back.

“Wait, hey. What?” He coos, taking your cheeks in his palms. “Why the tears hun?” His soft eyes making you all the more emotional.

“I've just missed you. It's been a hard night” you shake your head vaguely, so he relents and lets go, arms sliding down to grab your hands. His hands gently squeeze yours, and he pulls you towards the bed to sit side by side.

“I've missed you too. So much. I've been trying to get my schedule sorted so we have more time together, it just seems like every time I iron out one thing, five more show up. I’m sorry honey, I know it hasn't been easy,” He cocks his head at you. “It's been too long since I've seen that smile of yours,” He confesses. A small smile creeps its way onto your face at the mention, and Ethan's face lights up. “There it is.”

“So, what's all this?” You ask, looking around. Ethan's hand runs down your back as he follows your eyes.

“Just thought we could use a nice night in. You said you wanted to start this with me, so..” He motions around with his free hand. “No time like the present, right?” He cracks, a broad smile on his face. You lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, an oversurgence of gratitude filling your chest.

“Thank you, Ethan.” You whisper. He catches your eyes and leans in again. This time your lips meet for a sickly sweet, soft kiss. He then moves to press one to your cheek, and another to the edge of your jaw. He pulls away first, moving back.

“Let me get my Pajamas on, pick what blanket you want.” He stands to go dig through the dresser, pulling out a soft grey t-shirt and some dark-colored pajama pants. You scoot back, onto your side of the bed, pulling your favorite blanket with you. You snuggle down into it as Ethan climbs in next to you. He starts the TV, and flicks off his lamp.

You both move towards the middle, Ethan opening his arms to hold you, you laying an arm around his middle and putting your head on his chest. He rests his chin on your head and makes a gentle ‘hmm’ noise when you begin to slowly move your fingers up and down his side. A hand comes up to the back of your head, resting at the base of your skull, occasionally scratching.

You and Ethan make comments about what's playing on the TV, him occasionally making some smart-ass comment and you laughing, which just makes him laugh. Your fingers hit a sensitive spot on his side and he squirmed slightly, which naturally led to a half-ass tickle fight. Ethan kissed your hair, palm, and everywhere he could reach while laying with you. You watched him with lidded eyes and pushed his hair off his forehead while he ranted about a dumb decision in the show. Finally, you lay your head back down.

You're trying your damndest to stay awake and enjoy being around your partner watching a show together, but your body was betraying you. Between the soft blankets and Ethan's gentle motions, your exhaustion was creeping up on you. You felt your head getting fuzzy, and Ethan's chest was becoming more comfortable by the second. You pull your head back, Ethan pulling back to give a bit of room as you do so. You place a small kiss on his lips and lay your head back down.

“I love you.” you lazily utter and nuzzle your head back into place. Ethan pulls you a bit tighter to him, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I love you too hun,” He says. You feel yourself drifting off to Ethan's heartbeat, knowing he isn't far behind.

#ethan winters x reader #ethan winters #resident evil fic #thanks for reading besties #if you have suggestions on how to make this more race or gender neutral please hmu!#my writing

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