#the only thing that's keeping me afloat (and feeling guilty as fuck) is tagging the horne section on twitter cause they still care

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil; Chapter 1

Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!

Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line

a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 2.358k

Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.

You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.

Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.

It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.

A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.

It earns you millions.

You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.

You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.

Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.

He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.

When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.

“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.

“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I do my best.”

He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”

You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.

“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”

“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”

“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”

“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”

Your heart misses a beat.

“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”

You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.

“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”

Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”

You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.

“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”

He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”

You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”

“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.

“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”

“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.

He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”

You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”

“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”

“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”

“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.

Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”

☾𖤓

You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.

Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.

A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.

If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.

You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.

That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.

There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.

You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.

When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.

The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.

Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.

The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.

Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.

The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”

He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.

“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”

“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”

You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”

You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.

Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.

He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.

“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”

You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.

He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.

“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.

Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”

“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.

Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.

As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”

Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”

You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”

“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.

“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”

Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.

Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.

“I admire you, you know.”

“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”

She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”

“What do you want from me?”

“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”

After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.

“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”

“I take him to court, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”

You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”

Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.

Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #slowburn #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #succession slowburn #x reader slowburn #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

[farmerlarrry]

Orange Slices (Joel Miller x f!reader)

masterlist | read on ao3 | playlist

story summary: A story about finding companionship and love in the midst of chaos.

a/n: This is the first fanfic I'm publishing in almost 10 years and I'm new to the character x you/reader writing style, so if anything sounds odd or awkward, I deeply apologize. The story is mainly based on the game, however, I keep it pretty vague so if you like the show descriptions better, it should still work.

wc: 3734

if you want to be notified when I post new chapters, follow @farmerlarrrylibrary and put on notifications! If you'd rather be tagged, just let me know.

Chapter One

2013; Ten years since the CBI outbreak

The sunlight was trickling in through the cracks of the murky window of the old clothing store’s bathroom you barricaded yourself in last night; the rays dimly split across the subway-tiled walls. You lay still on your side, staring at the dense moss that covered the dark corners and the vines that weaved their way through the cracks in the tile. The morning was chilly, causing you to pull your long sleeve over your hands, balling the open ends in your fist to not allow any heat to escape. You close your eyes momentarily, not quite ready to face whatever today brings. For a few moments, you wanted to not have to face reality. Opening your eyes once again and taking in a deep breath of the cool spring air, you slowly rose to your feet, fully extending your arms above your head with your fingers intertwined, trying to straighten out the kink that has been in the middle of your back for the past few days. You wince as you lean from side to side.

You haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and it was starting to take a toll on you mentally. You know you aren’t being as careful as you should— accidentally knocking into things when scavenging, tripping over your own feet, nodding off out in the open when you take a midday rest from walking. It was only a matter of time before one of these things got you into some kind of trouble, trouble that you might not be able to get out of unscathed. The thought of it makes you shudder.

The nightmare of this world has only gotten worse now that you’re on your own again. It had been quite some time since it had been like this, and it was easy to forget how dangerous and scary it was to be alone. The small community you’d been settled into for the past few years was attacked and overrun three weeks ago. By whom, you don’t know. FEDRA, the Fireflies, some other militia group—they're all the same now, and the number of these bloodthirsty groups seems to only increase as time goes on. They supposedly stand for different things, all against each other; however, the one thing that they all have in common is that they’re always out for blood. 

You were among the lucky few who had not been inside the broken-down apartment building when the attack happened. Even luckier, you knew the ins and outs of the surrounding area, so it wasn’t hard to escape the fight unnoticed. A small part of you still feels guilty for not trying to help; you knew of families inside who were just trying to survive—elderly and children. In the weeks following the attack, you tried not to think about it; you tried to focus on your own survival, but the thought always came to mind just as you were about to fall asleep, and deep down, you feel guilty for running. It’s fucked up that this is what the world has come to; it makes you angry. 

Taking a seat back on the cold floor and crossing your legs, you lay out the contents of your backpack. At the time of the attack, you were on your way back from doing a supply run. You had been helping two of the men out by going along to try and keep the small group afloat. Unfortunately, the immediate area around the apartment building had been picked out pretty well, so finding supplies became harder and harder as time went on, and it was hard to plan longer treks to find supplies since there were so few people who were able to offer protection. You were unable to find anything that day; all you had was what you left with: a revolver with three bullets, your gas mask and flashlight you took from a FEDRA soldier back in Denver, a fixed-blade knife that has become dull due to daily use, a torn map of Colorado, two decently sized canteens of water, and a few emergency ration bars that expired four years ago. You were now down to half a canteen of water and had two ration bars left, trying to stretch what you had left. Thankfully, a few days ago, you came across an orange tree. You picked all the ones you could reach, filling up the vacant space in your bag.

You grab one of the oranges from the pile you made; it’s just a little smaller than your palm and wasn’t quite ripe enough for peak enjoyment. You carefully begin peeling back the thick layer, creating a pile of peels on the dust-layered tile floor. Halving the orange, setting one half on your thigh, picking apart the other half in your hand, and popping one of the slices in your mouth. You squish it against the roof of your mouth with the force of your tongue, and the juices quickly fill your mouth. You lean against the wall behind you and close your eyes. The cool air and sweet smell of citrus trigger a memory. You remember better days before the outbreak, specifically one where you were sitting in the grass with your friend just as spring arrived. The weather in Texas was perfect—not too warm or too cold; a slight breeze danced across your skin. Your friend Nessa brought back an absurd amount of oranges from her parent’s home that day, and the two of you ate them until you were sick. Laughing. Exchanging gossip you both heard around school. Giggling over which teacher assistants you found attractive. I swear he would stare at me with bedroom eyes during office hours, Nessa joked. Maybe he was frightened because you were looking at him as if he were some prey you wanted to pounce on... had to keep an eye on you, so he wouldn’t catch a case or somethin’. She rolled her eyes at your response. You miss those days; you miss being 16 and carefree. You miss companionship, especially Nessa. A small part of you hopes she’s out there somewhere, hopefully, better off than you are. The feeling of guilt quickly fills your chest, but this time it's for a different reason. You wished you could go back to the day of the outbreak, you wished you would have looked for her instead of running. Maybe things would have turned out differently, at least you’d have her by your side.

You feel a tear roll down your cheek, quickly wiping it away and drying your eyes with the cuff of your ragged long-sleeve shirt. The moisture stains the sleeve, turning it from a light olive color to dark mossy green splotches. As you’re drying your eyes, the remaining half of your orange slides off your thigh, landing on the floor. Dust now clinging to the sides, you toss it toward one of the corners. Looks like it’ll be a light breakfast today, you thought. You pop the last slice of the first half in your mouth and grab the map from the side of your pack. Carefully opening it up and laying it on your lap, you hover your finger over your current approximate location, tapping it a few times with the tip of your index finger. A few days ago, you reached Fort Collins. It took you a lot longer to get here than it should have, mainly because you kept zigzagging between different places. You now only have about eight miles until you reach city limits, which means you have to decide where you are heading next—something you’ve been putting off since you were forced out of the apartment. 

Finding communities nowadays is few and far between, especially in civilized places, places that offer a sense of safety. When the outbreak began, you were in Houston, Texas. Within the first week, you found refuge at the Houston QZ. Unfortunately, it fell within the first year due to people becoming infected from inside the zone. Nobody knew if the cause of the infection was in the food, the water, or the air. Nobody knew much of anything back then. After Houston, you decided to head north for the Denver QZ. From what you heard, it was still in operation, the conditions weren’t the best; however, they could have been much worse looking back. Eventually, you wanted to head east; you knew it was a long shot, but your family was there, and quite honestly, you didn’t know what else to do. After a grueling month or so of making your way to Denver with some survivors from Houston, picking up a few stragglers along the way, you finally reached the zone. The first few years weren’t all too bad, however, it quickly became corrupt. By your 7th year of being there, outside attacks began happening weekly, punishments were becoming more and more severe; instead of a few days in lockup for being out past curfew, it turned into weeks, which then turned into public beatings. Last you heard, they were shooting people on site for violating curfew by mere seconds. Those weren’t the only major issues, however. Rations began running low. First, they were handing out half rations for the full amount of required ration cards, then it turned into thirds for double the amount of cards. People became desperate, more and more left during the night to look elsewhere for food and supplies. It put a target on a lot of people’s backs if they weren’t careful enough, and since it was punishable by death, a lot of people lost their lives. You either risk starving to death or risk trying to survive. That seemed to be the motto of today’s world.

Even though you stuck around at the Denver QZ for the majority of the outbreak, leaving wasn’t hard. You had a few people you became close with at the beginning, but they either ended up dead or leaving, so after the last one left, you never made any more close ties with anyone. You kept your head down, kept conversations to a minimum, did what you were told, and only created business-type relationships with the stupidest and weakest of FEDRA soldiers. Leaving wasn't the hard part, you realized. It was being completely isolated and alone. Scared and alone. With time, you became tactical and stealthy, learning how the world outside of QZs worked as you went. Even when you had people around you, they weren’t your people. You didn’t want to have to worry about anyone but yourself, you thought it’d be better that way. However, traveling in these conditions by yourself isn’t exactly ideal, but you make it work. You have to. You watch your back, carefully listen to all the surrounding sounds, and think critically before you act. It’s become second nature. You take all the proper precautions to not only protect yourself from the infected, but also from the other people living in this hellhole.

When the world changed, so did the people. The lawless land quickly turned for the worse. Nobody was safe from one another, women and children were more vulnerable than the rest. People became savages, which often made you wonder if humankind had always been this cruel, and if this world was what enabled them to be their true selves.

After putting everything back into your backpack, you carefully tie the laces of your boots up, making sure to secure the laces around your ankle for extra support. The last thing you needed was to twist your ankle, last time it happened, you were out for several days. In the corner of the bathroom, where you tossed the tainted ration bar earlier, sat your old pair of boots, the ones your parents bought you many years ago. The tape was peeling away from both soles, the left one had a gaping hole on the side where the side of your foot would rub. You just happened to find these stuffed in the back of the small stockroom yesterday, there were a few pairs of various sizes. Other than these being a half size too big, they were perfect. Eventually, you needed to find a thicker pair of socks to make them truly fit, but for now, that really didn’t matter. 

After putting your pack on and tightening the straps, so it fits snugly on your back, you holster your gun on your right hip and prepare your knife in your hand for quick use. You begin to mentally prepare yourself for today’s trek. 

Carefully opening the door, you put your ear up to the small opening you created. You listen closely. Listening for any movement, any screams or cries, or any noise that could indicate potential danger nearby. The last few days have been rather quiet—a little too quiet for your liking. You’ve run into a few infected, easily putting them down with your knife. They haven't been running in groups like they usually do. It puts you on edge because you know it could change for the worse at any given moment, and nothing can prepare you for the quick turn of events. You stand there for a few minutes, listening, trying to slow your breathing to heighten your sense of hearing. Not picking up on anything, you proceed with caution. As you walk towards the exit of the store, you glance around at the remaining intact shelving and floor in case you missed anything on your initial sweep yesterday. With all the rubble from the initial bombings and the greenery that invaded the building, it was hard to see much of anything on the floor, but you were desperate for anything. Food. Water. Perhaps some sanity. 

You had no clue where you were going once you made it out of Colorado. Things weren’t looking good in the east, at least from what you heard when you would eavesdrop outside the radio room back at the Denver QZ. You discarded the idea of reuniting with your family back home when you decided to leave. You had to come to terms with how small the chances were that they were even alive, let alone reuniting with them. This morning, you thought of continuing north and heading for Wyoming. Back at the apartment, a man named Charles was talking in the makeshift community room late one night, telling the others he’d been thinking of heading to Wyoming with his two kids. He knew someone who worked in the radio room back at the Boston QZ, they told him they heard of some safe haven in Jackson; supposedly they had food, electricity, and a safe community. Although there was no real, solid evidence that such a thing still existed, if it ever truly existed at all, Charles said it was worth the risk for his kids. He didn’t want them to grow up like this, so he ended up leaving with them the day after. You thought it was stupid and too much of a risk considering how young his kids were, but you couldn’t really judge him for trying. You started to live more in your own head than in reality, mainly yearning for a better future and hoping there was someplace out there that would give you a sense of normalcy. You were no better than Charles. You still really aren’t that much better, are you?  

At this point, the sun was at its peak. The air is cool and starting to feel like spring with every passing day. The mornings are still chilly, but by midday it's warm. You take a moment to stop, taking off your long sleeve and tying it around your waist. You notice the back of your ankles beginning to throb and decide to take a break. You find homage on a shaded area of a curb behind an old rusted car, the windows have been completely smashed in, and vines have woven through the tire’s hubcaps and begun wrapping around the door handles.  As you’re sitting there, massaging your calves with your hands, a feeling of dread washes over you. A familiar feeling with a hint of anxiety. 

You begin to doubt the plan you made . What the fuck am I doing? The thought rushes to the forefront of your mind . 

You quickly pull the map from the side pocket of your backpack and open it all the way. Your eyes dart at all the different markings, dragging your fingers along the creases you’ve made due to folding and unfolding it constantly. 

Okay, so you reach Wyoming, you get to Jackson, and there’s nothing there? Then what do you do? You become overwhelmed with defeat, a heat washing over your face and filling your chest with a burning sensation. Fuck.

Losing yourself completely in the map and your own doomed thoughts, you barely notice the sound of crushed glass coming from your immediate right. A sense of danger triggers something deep within you, causing your stomach to turn. Quickly, but quietly, putting the map away, you position yourself in a crouching, ready to run, position, peering through the back windows of the car. Glancing quickly behind you, you notice that most of the buildings had been hit pretty hard during the initial bombing, and there was no easy or quick access to get inside. However, between two of the buildings, there's a shallow alley that you could quickly revert to if you end up needing more coverage. Just as you tried to make an escape plan, the blood-curdling shriek of an infected stumbling out of one of the buildings echoed through the vacant city, causing you to snap your attention back to the front. Slightly ducking for more coverage, you watch carefully, glancing between the buildings. Then another responds to the initial one’s cries, coming from a building to the left, two more suddenly appear, one tripping over the light pole that fell in front of the doorway. No fucking way, they’re going to draw more out to the street, fear quickly occupies your mind . Your heart is now beating fast as you watch more come from different directions, you haven't been caught in a swarm of this many on your own before. You unholster your gun, just in case, but you know you can’t get caught, not with two bullets and a knife. Close combat with just one of those things is scary enough, let alone with no one else around to help if things start going south. 

You start to turn on your feet to head to the alley, as it is your only hope now, when a loud clicking comes from behind you, immediately stopping you from taking another step. Oh no, fuck. A sinking feeling rapidly develops in your chest. You turn slowly toward the noise, trying to shallow your breathing. Your eyes widen as you spot the clicker coming from one of the buildings behind you, trying to crawl out of a narrow opening beneath a fallen slab of concrete. You sink lower against the back of the car door, putting your free hand over your mouth, scared to make any noise, scared to breathe. It’s moving slowly once it makes its way up onto its feet, turning its head and cocking it towards its shoulder; its arms are twitching uncontrollably, and it begins making that awful clicking noise that sends a chill down your spine. The orange slices from this morning are suddenly sitting in the middle of your throat, ready to come up at any moment.

In your peripheral view, you see movement coming from the alley, next to the building the clicker had just come out of. A man with dirty blonde hair is crouching down near the edge of the building. He’s holding his index finger to his mouth, gun in hand, aimed toward the ground. His finger is hovering over the trigger. You look between him and the gun as the clicker passes by you and the car, making its way slowly to the rest of the infected now roaming the street.

The blood has drained from your face. You are frozen in shock, not daring to move an inch. Your back is pressed firmly against the side of the car door, and your eyes are locked on the man's face. All you can do is stare, you tighten your hand around the grip of your gun, your knuckles turning white. He’s intensely looking in the direction of the infected before glancing briefly at you. A bead of sweat smoothly and steadily runs down the side of his temple before dropping off his face.

With his head, he motions for you to come his way.

“C’mon, hurry this way,” he says in a very low, urgent whisper, causing the infected to cry out in response. You don’t move.

He looks annoyed and shakes his head, still keeping an eye on the potential danger ahead.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now,” he quickly lets out, at the same volume as before. “I could have done it multiple times today; I could’ve come up behind you when you were lookin’ at your map. Come. Now.”

This time he said it more firmly, and this time you listened. You turn your head and look once more out of the car windows to make sure the coast is clear before making your way toward him. He guides you in front of him, motioning to go into the depths of the alley. Your heart is beating deeply and fast, air is stuck in your lungs.  You both turn the corner before standing up completely, the man walks ahead before turning to face you. He holsters his gun, placing both his hands on his hips, and lets out a long breath that seemed like he had been holding in for a little too long. You let your breath go as well. 

He is taller than you had anticipated. He's solid with broad shoulders. His hair is shaggy, now looking more brown than blonde, and slightly curly. 

“Name’s Tommy,” he says, still in a low tone, but a bit louder than when you two were on the street. You respond with your name, holstering your gun. He gives you a slight nod with a short-lived smile while tugging at the stretched-out collar of his shirt.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Tommy responds breathily.

read chapter two here!

painting divider | credit: @cottage-writings

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller x oc #orange slices #farmerlarrry #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader

[sherlock-is-ace]

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#excuse me while i do a VERY petty rant here... #but i'm sick of the internet and our need to get notes and likes and whatever #i don't know if the algorithm on stuff has changed or what but i'm having a hard time even wanting to share my art online #(i know i haven't stopped posting it but i do feel bad about it every time) #i'm also aware i've been posting really niche stuff... specially for instagram... but still #i'm tired of spending SO MUCH TIME on stuff and them getting 3 pitty likes and 50 bots commenting on them #and yeah the whole ''draw for yourself and not others. do it because you enjoy it'' and all that bullshit #it's great and true and all but also there's artists online whose WORK is to do art #and sadly... we NEED to get likes and reblogs/shares and whatever bullshit websites have cause otherwise people won't find us and hire us #we live in a world where you need followers to be somebody worth working with #it makes absolutely no sense. but it's a thing #the ammount of illustration agencies that make you link your instagram account AS WELL AS your online portfolio... #the same things go in both.. why do you need to see i don't have billions of followers?! #i hate this #i hate that i've posted something I'm trully proud of and it's not being seen #not because i want to be famous or whatever but i want at least a ''good job buddy'' i need that. i'm only human! #on twitter i get notes ONLY on the things a celebrity has seen. i've shared my commissions info and my ko-fi page and they've been ignored #on instagram i get bot comments only #on tumblr i get mostly likes that. as much as i appreciate them. they're useless #the only thing that's keeping me afloat (and feeling guilty as fuck) is tagging the horne section on twitter cause they still care #(for how long idk. they'll get annoyed sooner or later kfdjg) #but anyways... i'm tired or social media but i'm very proud of the things i'm producing lately so that's something #sadly i won't stop posting things online. cause it is trully the only way i could possibly get work #but i WILL complain again. i know that for a fact! #lol #it's a very stupid problem to have... i know there's people starving and being killed and sick and trully poor... #so excuse me for this whole rant :// #angel talks #personal

[heyitssmiller]

Frosted Windowpanes: Part One

The Christmas Fic is here! Featuring Logan the lumberjack, Leo who owns a diner, and Finn who was just trying to have a quiet, uneventful holiday (lol). This was supposed to be a oneshot, but y’all know I’m too long-winded for that, so it looks like we’ll be having at least one more part for this story!

@donttouchmycarrots Thank you so much for proofreading/encouraging/being such a wonderful, wonderful friend. I don’t think I’d still be writing without you and iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou 

@lumosinlove​ Again, thank you for such wonderful characters! And for creating such a wonderful, welcoming fandom! I never thought I’d post my writing where people could read it, but then I met y’all and here we are! You guys are amazing! Happy Holidays, everyone! <3

Part Two is now up!

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It's that time of year When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say

- The Christmas Waltz

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Piercing, bitter cold greeted Logan as he stepped outside for the first time that day. The kind of cold that made the entire body tense up and the breath hitch. It was a quiet early morning, with a stillness that only freshly-fallen snow could bring. Logan took a second to pull his toque further down over his head as he grabbed the chainsaw by the door before heading out to the truck, passing the sign with red, clean lettering that read Tremblay’s Christmas Trees.

“Took you long enough, sleeping beauty.” His sister, Noelle, teased from the driver’s seat of the beat-up truck that barely started most mornings.

“It’s too early for this.” He grumbled back, sliding into the passenger’s seat as the truck reluctantly spluttered to a start.

“The faster we get done out here, the faster we can go deal with customers.”

“That’s not exactly helping.”

Noelle laughed as she drove back into one of the fields, parking the truck at the far end. “Come on, it’s not that bad. They ask to buy a tree, you help them pick one out, take their money, and strap it to their car. Easy.”

They got out of the truck, grabbed the chainsaw from the back, and headed towards their first tagged tree. Logan grabbed the tree around its trunk to stabilize it while Noelle powered up the chainsaw, putting their conversation on hold. She crouched down to start cutting the base of the tree trunk, creating a notch before starting the back cut. Logan waited until the tree felt unstable before giving the tree a gentle push in the right direction and removing his hands. The tree hit the ground with a thud.

Noelle took that as her cue to continue their conversation. “Don’t pretend to be all grumpy and stoic. I know you like some of our regulars.”

“Some being the key word here.” He replied, grabbing the tree trunk again and beginning to drag it to the truck. Noelle just gave him a look that clearly said I see right through you but didn’t comment as she looked for the next tagged tree.

Logan heaved the Christmas tree into the bed of the truck and shoved it into one corner; he could probably fit one more tree alongside it before he started stacking them. He stood up straight, turning his head to watch the sun rise and peek over the tops of the trees, bringing rays of light and warmth with it.

Leo basked in the warmth coming from the oven as he took out a fresh batch of croissants, a welcome reprieve from the weather outside. He quickly put the next tray of pastries into the oven and transferred the baked croissants onto a plate, where he let them cool just a little before drizzling them with honey. He hummed along to the Christmas music playing on the radio as he worked on getting the diner ready to open in a few hours. He started the gumbo, red beans and rice, and jambalaya, letting them simmer on the stove before whipping up his fried chicken batter and breading so that it was ready whenever he needed it. Next was the cornbread, which was made from scratch and poured into muffin tins to create the perfect individual servings. Coffee was brewed, quiches were placed in the display window, waffle batter was whipped up and sitting in a bowl on the counter.

Leo was arranging croissants into a basket when the back door opened, letting all the cold air in and a small flurry of snow with it.

“Good morning!” Nate called as he came around the corner, shedding his coat and hat. Leo honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do without Nate. Running his own diner was hard – it was even harder when he’d moved to a different country, not knowing anyone there, and kept afloat with barely anything but his optimism and his confidence in his cooking. Nate was the first person he’d hired when business actually picked up, and he’d been there ever since. He had a real knack for cooking and managed to make every person that walked through their doors feel welcomed.

“Headed out to the farm?” Nate asked when he saw the basket of croissants and the large thermos Leo was filling with coffee.

“Yeah.” Leo said, grabbing coffee creamer and sugar and shoving them into his coat pocket after he slipped it on. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah, I can hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

Leo smiled as he grabbed his hat. “Thanks. There’s croissants in the oven, but they’ll be done as soon as that timer goes off! I’ll be right back, ok?”

Nate gave him a look. “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Leo agreed with a laugh. “But I’ll be back before morning rush.” He said as he braced himself and opened the door to be greeted by the frigid Canadian winter.

Even after a year and a half, he had a feeling he’d never get used to this weather.

He made a beeline for his car, quickly getting behind the wheel and cranking the heat as high as it would go. He put the car in drive and slowly pulled out onto the road, keeping a firm grip on the wheel and his eyes on the road. He knew he was probably causing a traffic build-up behind him, which made Leo feel a little guilty. He’d driven through hurricanes countless times, but snow? Black ice? He was absolutely terrified of that. So he took his time, eventually turning off the main road and driving until he reached a sign with red lettering and a Christmas tree lot. There were handmade wreaths and garlands, and white Christmas lights strung up over the rows of trees for sale.

Leo put the car in park and grabbed his stuff, breath hitching as he faced the cold winds again. Marius, the head of the Tremblay family, was at the checkout counter, writing something down on a pad of paper. Once he looked up and saw Leo, he smiled broadly. “Hey, Nut!”

“Good morning.” Leo replied, raising the basket and thermos in his hands. “I come bearing gifts. Coffee and croissants.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Marius said as he gave Leo a stern look. “I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

Leo shrugged, opening the basket and offering them to the man. “I like doing this. Y’all work hard and have ridiculously long hours. And you work in this weather. I feel like you could use a little warmth.”

“You and your southern manners.” He grabbed a croissant anyways, taking a big bite. “Your favorite’s still out there bringing some trees in.” He said, motioning to one of the groves to the left. Leo could faintly hear the sound of a chainsaw in the distance.

“I don’t have favorites,” Leo protested as he set the thermos and croissants down on the table, even though it was clearly a bald-faced lie. He thought of evergreen eyes and a gorgeous laugh and a smile that left him breathless. He blamed the redness of his cheeks and ears on the cold. “I like all of you equally.”

“Right.” Marius said, dragging out the vowel. He was smiling, though. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you, you know.”

Leo had to force his smile to remain steadfast. Friend. That was all this was ever going to be, no matter how much his heart yearned for something more. He needed to learn to be content with that – it wasn’t fair to Logan otherwise, or to himself for that matter. He could be a good friend and leave it at that. It was still better than not knowing him at all.

“I think I’m the lucky one.” He said, only then remembering the sugar and coffee creamers in his coat pocket. He fished them out and set them on the counter next to the thermos. “I do have to get going, though. I’ve got the breakfast rush to deal with.”

Marius waved him off playfully, grabbing another croissant. “Go on, then. I’ll try to save some for the rest of them.”

Leo laughed at his antics, breath clouding in the air. “I’m holding you to that.”

Marius watched him get in his car and drive off very slowly with a chuckle. Damn southerners. He looked down at the coffee creamers and sugar, knowing Logan was the only one in the family that used them, and started speculating.

He heard the rumbling of the truck as it came in, the back loaded to the brim with trees. Noelle and Logan’s bickering could be heard before the truck’s engine got turned off, which was saying something. Marius grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. He was going to need it.

“I mean, come on. Back to the Future is clearly the superior 80s movie. It’s definitely better than Top Gun.”

Logan closed his door, staring at his sister with a combination of horror and disbelief. “How dare you. Those aren’t even in the same genre!”

Noelle looked over at Marius right as she was about to start her counterargument and spotted the pastries and coffee. She grinned and abandoned Logan at the back of the truck in order to beat him to the food. One croissant was immediately shoved into her mouth as she grabbed another and then reached for a coffee cup one-handed. Marius snorted and grabbed it from her, filling it with steaming coffee.

She groaned. “Lolo, your friend needs to stop by more often. Fuck, this is good. If I wasn’t in a committed relationship already, I’d ask him to marry me.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Logan said gruffly, but his words were betrayed by a smile. He looked down at the pastries, eyes soft and smile dopy.

Marius knew that look. More importantly, he knew his son. And everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“Maybe Logan should ask, instead.” He teased, although a part of him was completely genuine.

Logan choked on his first bite of croissant.

.

“Finn!” June shouted as soon as she flung the door open, throwing herself into his arms. Finn laughed and hugged her back. Two seconds into his visit and he knew this was going to be the best way to spend the week before Christmas. He hadn’t seen June since they graduated college and, even though they kept in touch, it wasn’t the same.

“Four years is way too long.” He said as she let go. “Let’s not go that long without seeing each other again, ok?”

“Deal.” She replied, grabbing his bag for him and leading the way inside. The apartment was warm and cozy and lived in – there were books on the coffee table and a large pile of mail on the counter and a few stray dishes in the sink.

Finn loved it.

Heather, June’s fiancée, smiled in greeting and stuck her hand out to shake. “You must be Finn.”

He had originally thought it might be a little bit awkward, meeting his ex-girlfriend’s fiancée, but Heather seemed kind and welcoming and unperturbed about the whole thing. He shook her hand and returned the smile. “Heather. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh god.” She laughed, shooting June a look. June just winked and leaned over to check whatever food was in the oven.

“All good things.” Finn promised, letting Heather lead him to the guest room. It was as happy and welcoming as the rest of the apartment. As soon as they were out of earshot, he continued, “I’m really happy for you guys. She’s happier than I've ever seen her.”

“So am I.” Heather said wistfully as Finn set his bag down. “Bathroom’s through that door if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

When he rejoined the group in the living room, he noticed something: a distinct lack of Christmas decorations. June used to love decorating her college dorm room for the holidays – she went all out with little things she bought at the Dollar Tree and a miniature Christmas tree from Walmart. They used to get the tree together every year. It was strange that she hadn’t continued the tradition.

“No tree?” He asked June, surprised. She shrugged and scooted over on the couch to make room for all three of them.

“Haven’t had the time. I’ve been so busy at work and Heather’s been traveling for conferences. It’s not the same when you have to decorate by yourself.”

Finn hummed understandingly. He knew the feeling. “Why don’t we go get one now? Do you think some places are still open this late?”

Heather and June looked at each other, seeming to have a telepathic conversation. Finn watched on in amusement as they communicated with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes and shrugs until they apparently made up their minds.

“Tremblay’s is probably still open. They’ve got the best trees, anyways.” June explained, turning to look at Finn. “But I’ve got to stay here and make sure our dinner doesn’t burn.”

“And I’ve got to stay here and supervise June while she uses the oven.” Heather added. Finn laughed, remembering too many times June had burned herself while using the rickety old oven from the 1970s that still lived on in their dorm building.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Finn teased and ruffled June’s hair. She just rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother trying to smooth it out again. Ruffling hair was one of Finn’s main ways of showing affection – she knew it would just get messed up again. Finn fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his navigation app. “I can go get the tree, if you want. You said the place was called Tremblay’s?”

“Finn, you really don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” He cut in, standing up from the couch to grab his coat. “I didn’t bring presents for you guys because I’m so bad at gift-giving, so this can be my Christmas present.”

Heather hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” She asked, glancing at June again. “We can always go out and get a tree tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back soon, and with a tree!” Finn said as he reached the door, turned to give a cheery salute, and headed out to his car.

After a frankly terrifying drive through narrow back roads and potential ice hazards, Finn followed his app to a little tree farm off of the main road. There weren’t many cars there, thankfully, and it still looked open. The rows of white lights hanging above the trees were all lit and glowing, snow was falling at a slow, sleepy pace. It looked perfect, like something out of a dream.

And that was before Finn saw him.

The man working the front counter.

Finn raked his gaze over the man and swooned. Wavy brown hair, bright eyes, shoulders and arms so broad and built that it seemed like they were about to rip the plaid shirt he was wearing. With a nametag that stated Logan, he seemed like a rugged, Canadian, lumberjack dreamboat. Finn swallowed, making his way to the counter and the absolute vision behind it while he focused on not tripping over his own two feet.

“Hi,” Finn managed, trying not to get lost in evergreen eyes. “I’d like to buy a tree, please.”

“What type of tree would you like?”

Oh, the accent.

Finn was screwed.

“Uh…” Finn trailed off, looking at Logan and struggling to find words. “A Christmas tree?”

“Spruce, pine, or fir?” When Finn’s expression turned more confused, Logan smiled in exasperated, awed delight. Who drove all this way for a tree and had no clue what they were looking for? Most people at least had some idea. But not this one, apparently. Those big, Bambi eyes were lost and absolutely adorable.

“Do you have a size you’re looking for?” Logan asked, receiving a more perplexed look.

This was too funny. “Do you know anything about what kind of tree you want?”

“A pretty one? But not too expensive. Or too tall. Or heavy – I’ve got to get it up a huge flight of stairs.”

Logan couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. He leaned forwards against the counter and laughed, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders shaking. Finn watched with a smile of his own, taking in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the contagious nature of his laugh. He felt like this – this right here – was the only thing he wanted to do for the next several hours, especially if he was the reason for the laughter. He thought of that song he could never remember the name of but heard a lot on Tiktok that said, “oh no, I think I’m catching feelings” and never related to a song more in his entire life.

“Ok,” Logan said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Ok, I’m going to pick one out for you, how’s that sound…?”

“Finn.” The redhead supplied with a laugh of his own. “And please. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Clearly.” Logan stepped around the counter and led him towards a group of trees. “These are Douglas Firs. They last a long time, smell great, and they don’t take a lot of trimming or maintenance. They’re also pretty cheap since they’re so common.”

Finn looked from the trees to another group of trees a little ways off. “They all look the same.”

“Who’s the expert here?” Logan teased, shooting him a look over his shoulder as he walked from one tree to the next. Finn trailed after him eagerly, watching calloused, muscular hands trail along the needles of the trees.

“We can go look at the Fraser Firs, if you want, but I really think one of these is your best bet.” Logan continued, stopping in front of a mid-sized tree. “How about this one?”

Finn looked at it, then back at Logan. “What do you think? Since I clearly don’t know anything about trees.” That drew another smile from Logan, which made Finn vow to himself to make the brunet smile like that again.

Logan dragged the tree out from the rest of the group and looked it over. “I think it’s a good one. Good shape, healthy. I sure know how to pick ‘em, eh?”

Eh. How adorably Canadian.

“Sounds good. It’s not even for me, so my input doesn’t really matter a whole lot.”

Logan sent him a confused look. “So you went out at nine o’clock at night to get a Christmas tree, and it’s not for you?”

“I don’t even live in this country.”

“What?”

“I’m visiting friends that live here, and they’ve been traveling or too busy to decorate like they normally do, so I decided I’d get the ball rolling and find them a Christmas tree.” Finn shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Not only was he stunning, he was thoughtful to boot.

Logan clearly had a type.

“That’s nice of you.” He removed the tree from its stand and started lugging it to the counter, watching the redhead trail behind him yet again out of the corner of his eye. When he reached his destination, he set the tree down and found Finn staring at him with a look of awe on his face. He bit back a smile. “How long are you staying?”

Finn was silent for a second, as if in a trance, then snapped out of it with a little shake of his head. “Huh?”

That smile he was holding back broke through. “How long are you staying in town?”

“Oh. Just for the week, then I’m off to spend Christmas with my family back home in New York.”

“A New Yorker, huh?” Logan asked as he bagged the tree up, attempting to do the accent and making Finn laugh. “This must be quite the change of pace for you.”

“You have no idea.”

Finn’s stomach growled, making his eyes widen and his cheeks burn in embarrassment. It must’ve been loud enough for Logan to hear because he turned back around to face Finn and quirked an eyebrow. “Hungry?” He asked, then told Finn the price of the tree. Finn handed his card over.

“Yeah. Haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I, uh, I know a place.” Logan said, playing with Finn’s credit card before meeting his eyes and quickly adding, “If you’re interested. I haven’t had dinner either.”

Finn grinned, not even trying to hide his excitement. The only thing he’d wanted when he left June and Heather’s apartment was a tree. Now he had a potential date with this gorgeous, witty guy? Yes please. “Yeah?”

Logan shared his smile, leaning forward against the counter and looking up at him through dark, dark eyelashes. Finn’s heart fluttered. “Yeah. Sounds fun to me.”

“Great.” Finn said, unsure of what else to say and suddenly feeling a little awkward. Was he supposed to wait for him to finish his shift? Were they driving together? Where was this restaurant?

He needed to text June.

Shit. She had been making dinner when he left. But he’d already agreed to dinner with Logan. But it would be so rude to not spend time with his hosts. But he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t go on this date.

He pulled out his phone as Logan ran his card through the system to text June.

To June: Sooooo there might be a change of plans. Some hot guy is my acting tour guide for the night and I won’t be making it home for dinner. But I promise I have a tree and I will be back eventually.

It only took June a few seconds to respond.

From June: Damn. You go, Finn.

He laughed under his breath, then pocketed his phone. When he looked up, Logan was looking at him and holding his card out. Finn grabbed it and shoved it into his wallet, which he pocketed. “Ready to go?” Logan asked, grabbing the trunk of the tree and preparing to drag it again. “I can drive, if you want. We’ll strap the tree to the top of your car and then head out.”

“Works for me. Do you need help with that?” Finn motioned to the tree. Not that he minded the view – quite the contrary – but he felt bad not doing anything.

“Want to grab the netting towards the top? We can carry it instead of dragging it.”

Finn grabbed the netting and followed Logan’s lead as they both lifted the tree and started carrying it out to Finn’s car, Finn giving directions as they went. Getting the tree to the top of the rental car was a struggle, but they managed and strapped it down.

They hurried to Logan’s car and shut out the cold as quickly as they could. Logan started the rickety old pickup truck that smelled strongly of Christmas trees and took off down the road at a much faster pace than Finn would ever dare to drive these roads.

“I have a feeling you’re going to love this place.” Logan said as he turned right onto the main road, accelerating a bit more. “Pretty much everyone does. It’s not very Canadian, but you can’t beat the food.”

“What defines a restaurant as Canadian?” Finn mused, looking over at the driver. “Maple syrup? Poutine?”

“Watch it.” There was no heat in Logan’s voice, so Finn didn’t take it to heart. They slowed down and pulled into a parking lot of a diner simply called Leo’s. The outside looked a little rundown, which made Finn a little apprehensive, but the windows were all fogged up from the temperature difference between inside and outside, which was always promising.

Logan turned the car off and shot Finn an excited grin. “Ready?”

Finn couldn’t tell if he was excited for dinner with him or just the food. Hopefully it was both.

The inside of the diner was… eclectic. The walls were a faint yellow, but there were splashes of deep purple, green, and gold in the decorations on the walls. Mardis Gras, Finn realized as he spotted some masks hanging on the wall. The food smelled amazing – warm and spicy and savory. Behind the baked goods on display counter stood a young kid with a cleaning spray and a rag, wiping down the counters. He looked up at the bell that signaled the door opening and instantly recognized Logan. He sent them a smile before turning his head and shouting towards the direction of the kitchen, “Leo!”

There was a loud clang, followed by a muffled curse. “Be there in a jiffy!”

Finn looked to Logan in confusion. “Was that a southern accent? Like American south?”

“Leo.” Was all Logan said, a happy smile on his face.

“You guys can go ahead and sit down,” The kid at the counter said. “I’ll bring some menus.”

“Thanks, Nate.” Logan led the way towards a booth in the front corner of the dining area and sat down facing the door. Finn sat opposite him, accepting a menu with thanks. The menu consisted of southern U.S. staples – biscuits and gravy, grits, red beans and rice, fried chicken, etouffee, jambalaya, po’boys, fried catfish, cornbread, the list went on.

“So is this guy from Louisiana?”

Logan wasn’t even looking at the menu, he was watching every nuance of Finn’s expressions as he took everything in. “New Orleans, born and raised.”

“How the hell did he end up here?”

“He had an uncle who owned this place and left it to Leo when he died. Originally he was just going to fix it up and sell it before going back home, but two months led to a year and he’s still here. Doesn’t seem to be planning on going anywhere else for a while, either.” Logan suddenly perked up, looking at something over Finn’s shoulder. “Here he comes.”

Finn swiveled in his seat and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tall.

They were both greeted by a dimpled smile as Leo approached their table, flour or powdered sugar – Finn wasn’t sure which one – all over his apron and a dusting of it in his fluffy blond hair.

“Hey, Logan. See you’ve brought company!” His accent dragged sweet and slow like molasses, so very out of place this far north. But it was refreshing, like a breath of fresh air or the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a week of rain. As he got closer, Finn realized what he’d thought to be flour in his hair was actually a gray streak. And wow, were his eyes blue.

How was everyone here so attractive?

“Finn, meet Leo. Leo, this is Finn.” Logan said, smile never leaving his face as he looked between the two. “He’s new here.”

Leo arched an eyebrow. “And you brought him here?”

“You do have the best pie in town.”

That got another sunny smile from Leo. “Damn right I do. But dinner first. Can’t go on spoilin’ your dinner with pie.” Those blue eyes turned to Finn, causing his breath to hitch just a little. “What’ll you have, sugar?”

Finn simply wasn’t going to survive this night. Was this a dream? That would explain all the attractive guys – the probabilities of something like this happening in real life were slim to none. He pinched his arm harshly. Not a dream.

What the fuck?

Finn realized he still hadn’t answered and was just staring at the blond. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze to the menu, not really reading anything but grateful for something else to look at besides the two guys in front of him. “Um… what would you recommend?” He finally asked, grateful that he could get his vocal cords to actually work.

Leo hummed, thinking about it. “Personally I really like the muffuletta, if you’re looking for a sandwich. Definitely the gumbo if you’re in the mood for soup. I do make a mean fried catfish, too.”

Finn wasn’t sure what exactly a muffuletta was, but he ordered it. Logan got his usual, whatever that meant. Leo wrote down their orders and gave them one last smile before retreating to the kitchen. They both watched him go, then Finn whipped back around to face Logan.

“Is he real?”

Logan just laughed, leaning back in his seat. Finn panicked for half a second, terrified that what he’d said was the worst possible thought to voice on what was potentially a first date. But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just looked back at the kitchen with a soft smile Finn hadn’t seen before.

“You know, I ask myself that a lot.” He said quietly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. And Finn finally understood.

He was in love with Leo.

The sound of a record scratching filled Finn’s head.

Wait.

That didn’t make any sense… because Finn was ninety-five percent sure that Logan had been flirting with him all night.

Hadn’t he?

They made small talk while they waited for their food, and Logan was pleasantly surprised at how… easy it was. He normally didn’t like small talk and didn’t share personal stories with strangers, but here Finn was, pulling stories out of him that he normally wouldn’t share on a first date.

Was this a date? Logan couldn’t decide if he wanted it to be one or not. One hand, this was definitely the most fun he’d had in weeks. On the other hand, Leo. He sent a glance towards the kitchen window before focusing back on Finn’s story about one of the parties he and June went to back in college. There was lots of alcohol, mattresses, and a roof involved. Finn’s storytelling included a myriad of different expressions, all of which Logan found endearing. The wrinkle of his nose when he talked about drunk frat boy antics, the way he got all soft whenever he talked about June, the laughter lines around his eyes when he told a funny anecdote.

How was it possible to be so cute and yet so hot at the same time?

And how had he met two guys who fit into both of those categories?

Nate brought their food out while Logan was in the middle of a story about the time he’d found a squirrel in one of their trees and got attacked when he tried to relocate the thing when Nate came back with the food. Finn had the muffuletta, which was apparently meat and cheese and some sort of olive spread or something – Finn had no idea, but it looked and smelled amazing. Logan had a bowl of red beans and rice in front of him, but he was waiting to see Finn’s reaction to the food before starting his own.

Finn took a bite of the sandwich, then his eyes widened almost comically. “Oh my god.”

“I know.” Logan said, getting a spoonful of red beans and rice.

“Where has this been all my life?”

“Just wait until you try the pie.”

Finn didn’t speak again, he just ate. The food clearly took precedence over any possible conversations. Logan couldn’t help but agree. Finn ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in a week, finishing the sandwich in record time. He leaned back in his seat when he was done, letting out a happy, content sigh. “Holy shit. Is everything on the menu that good?”

“Pretty much.”

“And he hasn’t been on the Food Network yet?”

Logan grinned. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“We should tell them to get up here and try this food.”

“Y’all, I don’t have time for the Food Network.” Finn jumped a little as Leo reappeared with two slices of pie. “I appreciate it, though. You liked it, huh?”

Finn looked up at him. “I kind of want to come back every day I’m here.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t be coming back just for the food, though.

“Well, I definitely won’t stop you.” Leo said with a dimpled smile. Finn barely held in a dreamy sigh.

Dimples.

“Why don’t you join us?” Finn asked, scooting over to make room for the blond. But Leo just shook his head with a rueful smile.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got twelve pies that need to be made.”

“Twelve?” Finn asked in mild horror. “When do you sleep?”

“The chocolate crème pies are in high demand, especially around the holidays. But it’s fine, I don’t mind it. I’m just glad I've got business.” Leo seemed to be ignoring the sleep question, which was never a good sign.

“You look tired.” Logan noted, face muddled with concern.

Leo laughed softly, but didn’t seem to take offense. “Thanks a lot, darlin’.”

Logan broke eye contact and pushed the residual whipped cream around on his plate. Finn hadn’t even realized he’d started eating, but he quickly followed suit and fuck, was that good.

“I just meant you need to take care of yourself, that’s all.” Logan mumbled into his plate without looking up, almost as if he was afraid to see the cook’s response.

“Says the guy who works even longer hours than I do.” Leo teased, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

“That’s because it’s almost Christmas and I work at a Christmas tree farm. It’s only temporary. We’ll be back to normal by the end of the week.”

“Well, good. You deserve to sleep in for once.” Leo said, taking a step back towards the kitchen. “But I really do have to go. Those pies won’t make themselves.”

“Do you want help?” Finn asked hopefully, He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night than baking with these two. Being given instructions in a thick southern drawl, helping Logan make pie filling, trading stories (and maybe kisses) while they waited for the pies to be done.

But Leo quickly dashed his dreams. “That’s sweet, honey, but I think I’ll be faster on my own. I’ve got a system that makes it pretty efficient. And I don’t give out my recipes to just anyone, you know.”

Oh, but I’d love to be someone to you.

Logan also looked disappointed. “We should get going, then. Don’t want to keep distracting you.”

“At least you’re a welcome distraction.” Leo said with a wink before he turned and disappeared into the kitchen. He let the door close behind him before backing up to lean against it, tilting his head back to rest against the wood and closing his eyes. The happy façade dropped in an instant.

Because Logan was out there, on a date with a guy. A handsome, kind, funny guy who would have absolutely no trouble sweeping Logan off his feet.

And that guy wasn’t Leo.

.

Finn flopped dramatically onto the couch back at June’s apartment, muffling a scream into a poor, unsuspecting pillow. June looked up from her book with a laugh. “Well hello to you, too.”

“I’m in love.”

“Oh?” Heather asked from her spot cuddled up next to June.

Finn turned his head sideways to open one eye and look at the two of them. “With a lumberjack and a cook.”

“Ah,” June said knowingly as she dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book. “Beware the lumberjacks. They’re known to be irresistible. Alright then, which Tremblay was it?”

Finn cocked his head. “What?”

Heather smiled as June tilted her head back and let her run her fingers through dark brown curls. They were so cute it was almost sickening. “There’s four of them: three sisters and a brother. Which one did you fall for?”

Finn couldn’t have held back the smile that crossed his face even if he tried. “Logan.”

June groaned. “I get it. Holy shit, those eyes.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know he cooked, though.”

“No, the cook was another guy.” Finn sighed as he twisted to lay on his back and stare wistfully up at the ceiling. “Leo.”

“The southern one with the diner?”

“That’s the one.”

“Damn, O’Hara. You do know-”

“They’re head-over-heels in love with each other? Yeah, I got that.” Finn stretched his legs out to rest on June’s lap. “But I’m also pretty sure that was a date. And that Logan was flirting with me.” He sighed again, covering his eyes with his arm. “I’m doomed.”

“Always so dramatic.” June teased. “Just date both of them.”

Finn froze, his mind going completely blank. “What?”

“Date both of them.” She repeated, unfazed. “Polyamorous relationships are a thing, you know. Who says you can’t date both of them?”

Finn moved his arm away from his face to stare at her. “Huh.” He finally said, mind kicking back into gear. That sounded… perfect, actually. Only a few hitches. Did Leo even like him? They’d barely talked to each other. Finn could see Logan being ok with the whole dating two people thing, seeing that he was flirting with both of them, but what would Leo think? And the other hitch. “I’m only for a week, though.”

“Then you’d better act fast, lover boy.”

“I’ve got a question.” Heather piped up.

Finn looked at her and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to ask her question.

“Where’s the tree?”

He could probably see it from their front window if he bothered to stand up, still strapped to his rental car. “Shit.”

#lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #christmas au #frosted windowpanes

[gracelessfighters]

truths

Pope Heyward x female reader

Masterlist

Summary: (requested) reader is John B’s sister and is secretly dating Pope, they’ve managed to keep it hidden until John B starts to suspect something during a game of truth or dare 

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: swearing, i think that’s it??, probably some dodgy grammar and tenses 

A/N: i always love to write for the loml pope so i was vvvv happy to get this request (sorry it took so long lmao) but anyways i struggled with this for a few days but im okay with how it turned out i think - i hope people enjoy it :)

“Truth or dare?” John B asked Kie, throwing an empty can of beer at her to catch her attention.

“Hmm truth I think.”

“Okay… if the chateau was on fire and you could save all of us but one, who would you leave?” He moved his hand at all of you sitting around the fire.

Nights like these had always been your favourite, sitting with your friends, drinking and talking until everyone got tired or until the sun came up, whichever happened first.

Not all of them were just your friends though, John B was your older brother - only by one year though so it didn’t count in your eyes, but to him he was responsible for you which meant he was ridiculously protective. You could sometimes deal with this, but as soon as it came to boys, if they (or you) had certain intentions he wouldn’t let you anywhere near them which really annoyed you.

This is the main reason why you hadn’t told him about you and Pope dating, he could be happy because he knows Pope but also he doesn’t like to think about you with anyone so  you were yet to risk that conversation with him. None of the other pogues knew either - except maybe Kie might have noticed the dynamic change between you and Pope - this meant the two of you were sneaking around, stealing kisses from each other when no one was looking and going on small dates.

You had actually liked Pope for years, but growing up with him meant for a while he didn’t see you as anything other than John B’s little sister, but something had obviously changed in the past few months because he had started acting differently, with more flirty glances and comments being passed between you - leading to you two to start dating.

“Y/N probably because she wouldn’t need me to save her like the rest of you idiots.” Kie smiled at you, making you laugh, especially as the three boys tried to protest that they weren’t damsels who couldn’t save themselves.

JJ interrupted the conversation, “Alright ignoring that Kie thinks all of us but Y/N are useless,” he turned to you, “truth or dare?”

“Dare.” You smile, ready for a challenge.

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, “Mack the person you think is the hottest in the group.”

John B groaned where he sat, covering his face, not noticing the blush that crept across your cheeks as you glanced at Pope and met his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips.

You heard JJ confidently pucker his lips beside you as you stood up, but walked over to Pope instead, leaning down to meet his face, one hand gently cupping his jaw as you press your lips against his. It takes everything you have not to deepen the kiss, both of you wanting more but being very aware of the whoops from the others and the glare John B is giving the both of you behind your back. So you pull back, his breath fanning over your lips and you wink at him before standing up and hearing back to where you were sitting, unable to control the blush and smile on your face.

Both Kie and JJ made a few comments before getting involved in a dare for JJ to strip off and jump in the marsh, leaving John B to stare at you curiously, almost as if he saw more in that kiss with Pope than just a dare - and you were getting nervous.

Once JJ was back, dripping wet and smiling at his little success you announced that you were going to get some more snacks and drinks, Pope chirping up, “I’ll come and help.”

You walked away from the fire in silence, exchanging glances and smiles, careful not to walk too close as you could feel John B’s following the two of you.

But as soon as you went through the door and into the kitchen the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, Pope wrapped his arms around you, “I think John B might try and murder me in my sleep tonight judging from the look on his face after we kissed.”

You laugh, “Maybe, but at least we have finally kissed in front of him - baby steps.”

Pope moves his hand from your waist and reaches for your face, running his thumb along the corner of your mouth, he says, “Well he’s not here now, so….”

Without hesitating you close the gap between you, your breath quickening as your lips meet his for the second time that evening. His mouth is warm and soft, parting beneath yours, as the kiss becomes more passionate he moves you towards the counter, breaking the kiss for a moment to lift you onto the kitchen side. Once up, you lock your legs around his waist and capture his mouth in another long, lingering kiss, trying to contain the smile that was beginning to show on your face.

“What the fuck?!” John B shouted from behind Pope, the two of you broke away, turning to face your brother who had walked in when the two of you were too involved in the kiss.

“John B listen I-“ You began saying, but was interrupted by Kie and JJ popping their heads round the door, “What’s happened?” Kie asked.

“Those two are macking!” The shock and anger still hadn’t passed off your brother’s face, but both Kie and JJ smiled at the two of you at this revelation.

“Fucking finally, I wondered why you stopped telling me how hot she was bro.” JJ beamed, seemingly proud of his best friend for getting a girl.

“No this isn’t okay!” John B kept moving his head to look at all of you, unsure why he was the only one reacting badly, “She’s my baby sister and he’s one of my best friends!”

“Fuck off JB,” you began speaking, ready to give your brother an earful, “First off I’m not that much younger than you so you can’t act like it’s your job to protect me, especially when I’m the one who seems to keep us afloat.”

His eyes moved to the floor, nodding at what you were saying but obviously guilty about his reaction.

Pope’s arms wrapped around you from behind as you continued speaking, “Listen JB, I love you because you’re my brother, but you don’t have the right to control who I’m with and you should be happy the person I choose to love is Pope, because you know that he is an amazing person inside and out and would never hurt me. Okay?”

He lifts his head to meet your eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, “Yeah okay and I’m sorry for acting like that Y/N,” his eyes glance at Pope, “and you too man, you’re a great catch and I know you’ll treat her right.”

“Alright then, now that that’s all over can we go back to drinking please?” You asked, ready to move back towards the fire.

“In a second.” You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion at your brother as he walked towards you and Pope, smiling when he opened his arms.

Both you and Pope moved towards him, first you encircled your arms around John B’s waist, then Pope followed by wrapping his arms around you both. It didn’t take long for Kiara and JJ to join in on the group hug, everyone laughing as you and your brother were squished and protested for everyone to let you breathe.

After the hug, the whole mood was improved and you all began filing out of the kitchen and towards the fire once again. Except this time you and Pope were holding hands, a weight off both your chests now that everything was out in the open.

JJ jokingly punched Pope’s shoulder, “This opens up so many possibilities for truth or dare now by the way.”

“Oh yeah, I can’t wait to find out what you two lovebirds have done so far.” Kie piped up from where she walked a few steps ahead, smiling as she turned to look at you

John B groaned beside you, “Please no, I’m fine with them being together but I do not want to hear anything about it.”

“We’re definitely gonna have to ask now man and they have to answer - it’s the rule of the game.” JJ laughed.

With that John B chased after JJ, both of them sprinting towards the fire as your brother shouted, “Don’t ask a single fucking thing JJ!”

Both you and Pope chuckled at the scene in front you, then turned to each other to share a quick kiss before joining the others.

Tags: @outerbankslut​ (ty babes for making me feel better about this the other night)

#pope heyward x reader #pope heyward #pope x reader #pope heyward imagine #outrebanx #outrebanx request #outerbanks #Jonathan Davis #outer banks imagine #obx #obx fic #obx imagine #outer banks fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #john b routledge #kiara carrera

[teacup-tai]

Top Five of 2020

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (ish) favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

My lovely @the-starryknight thanks for the tag!  I’ll tag a few people, but you probably already did it: @ruinsplume @kasjophe @gallifrey1sburning @quicksilvermaid @prolix- @dazedandinked 

Right. This year was insane, I got stuck first half of the year in Ireland with only 2 friends close by, all my family in Brazil or Spain while I was writing my bloody master thesis (that is what I’m proudest of this year, but it’s not published yet, so won’t go in this list). I managed a lot of hard emotions in solitude, by myself, while reading drarry fics to keep afloat (great coping mechanism, actually!). And after handing my thesis and moving to Spain, I was feeling deeply empty. So I went back to fic-writing, after 2 or 3 years of not even looking at my old fics. 

It all started when I saw the posts for prompt claiming on the @hd-hurtfest  blog. To think how that post changed everything in my life is just bizarre. So I am very thankful! It has been a huge pleasure to go back to fic-writing and to re-embrace the HP fandom, mainly the drarry squad! To get to know so many lovely people and I’m forever grateful for that. 

Here is my Top Five:

hear me (with your whole body): (Drarry, E, 9k) this is the fic I wrote for the hd-hurtfest 2020. I saw @quicksilvermaid’s prompt and I shivered. It lured me so much I had the whole plot in my head as soon as I finished sending the claim. It was so hard to write it. Because the topic is very sensitive: open relationships, sexual mismatch, bad communication skills. I brought most of my bad experiences in all these sensitive topics as if I was purging it from my body while writing ‘hear me’. It was a very raw process of looking into my own still bleeding wounds, but very cathartic. And it was hard because it was my very first drarry (I love drarry and I normally only read drarry, but I’ve never felt confident enough to write it), so I was very nervous. And in bloody English xD LOL but I’m bloody proud of it. I wanted to write something real without making a show of blaming one of the parts, at the same time I wanted to use and unreliable POV (Harry’s) and to bring forth all those very uncomfortable realities of jealousy, insecurity of one’s sexuality etc. in a way people could relate to. I’ve never imagined the response to this fic would be so nice, and many of the comments drove me to deep reflection. I’m specially happy about this fic because after writing ‘hear me’ something cracked open inside of me, in my own personal-romantic life and also in writing. Like a small miracle. And then, I couldn’t stop writing anymore.

Rebel Rebel: (Sirius/Remus. E, 5k) heh, Wolfstar is my OTP *-* So writing this tiny fic with ‘there was no war’ prompt for the sirius black fest was a bloody delight. The feeling of exploring their youth, in the early 80s and the whole atmosphere of that time was exhilarating! Bowie’s concerts, HIV+ and Aids, queer community and old school crushes. Giving them a future and professions was fun as fuck. But the best part was making Sirius Black fuck around, wild and free, you know. Because he bloody well deserved it. I love the writing style I explored there, very influenced by Caio Fernando Abreu, one of my favourite Brazilian writers and it was just great great fun!

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise: (Drarry + Wolfstar, E, 40k+ WIP) I need to post 3 more chapters along this next few days.  I’m adding Dragons here because NEVER. IN. MY. LIFE I thought this story would come out of my head into the pages, and I’m so bloody happy, so bloody proud of myself. I cannot believe how much I’ve written in a month, about a plot that had some path in my head but never a shape, and how this all blossomed inside of me and how it’s coming out just brilliantly. I know I’ll think back at some point and think this and that are not great. But I think this fic is one of my best works, it deals with the queer community, with depression and acceptance, with HIV+ folk, and deep emotions. Everything I’ve ever dreamed of writing. And here it is, and writing it made me manage the fact that I wouldn’t be able to spend this xmas with my family, so I spent this last month with this characters and feeling the opposite of lonely. And to be able to write Harry having a family, you know, being raised by Remus and Sirius is just marvellous. I’m over the moon with wolfstar being great gaydads :D

Scorching: (Pansmione, E, 1.5k) first time I translated a Portuguese fic of mine to English. It was fun to do it, as it’s purely smutty smut and well, I love pansmione and it makes me greedy to go back to writing about this ship. I like how it turned out, but it’s not beta-ed so maybe it’s not great. But damn, I really like this Pansy. ^^

The Old Ways: (Voldemort/Walburga, M, 3k). So, I have a whole word document full of snippets on the Black family. As the Black family is my huge guilty pleasure (that’s why Tainara Black has been my pen name since 2005). I don’t like to think Walburga was only a mad pureblood bigoted woman, I like to think of her as being strongly magical and very sure of herself. Someone three-dimensional with knowledge of Dark magic of the old ways and a deep insanity that comes with legacy of pureness, but also with financial influence and  management of old wizarding land. I realised Walburga is only 1 year older than Voldie, she is closest to his age than her husband or brother (if we follow the Balck Family Genealogical Tree), and this sparked a whole idea inside of me. So this fic is a character study of Walburga when Sirius is only 10 and Voldemort is organising a war, and I honestly think is one of my best fics (even though it wasn’t beta-ed). I loved writing about this powerful witch, that got stuck in keeping her bloodline alive, that gave up on great deeds of power and freedom to become a pureblood mother and wife. But it’s the fic no one reads, so I’m adding a bit of it here in hopes it may interest someone:

He climbs the last step of the noisy, rusty, winding stair, his eyes mapping the place in silent wonder. The rooftop is sombre. Rough grey cement floor and dead flower beds in a far corner, big dark clay pots with dead branches and dry bushes scattered around; the only living thing is an imposing carnivorous plant, it’s toothed lips opening and closing sharply around bugs and other insects.

She is right there, in the centre of the chaotic rooftop garden and he thinks the house is in shambles, and so is she. The moon is reflecting its cold brightness over her as if it were a stage light. He takes a second to contemplate her stance. He has never seen her like this before. It is such an incongruous sight it almost feels like he’s intruding. Is not a feeling he’s used to.

She’s perched in a high frail copper chair, her ankles crossed lightly, with pale bare feet against the dirty coarse floor, one white arm falling languidly from the armrest, her elegant fingers holding a thin long smoking pipe. Rings of smoke rising into the night sky. The back of her skull resting on the back of the chair, he can’t see her face from this angle, but he’s stunned by the imagery.

She looks almost mythical; with her long black mane messy and loose, barely touching the ground. He can’t remember when was the last time he’s seen her hair down, but he’s pretty sure it wasn’t that long, nor were there silver strikes colouring it in a mix of salt and pepper.

“How long do you plan to stare?” her voice is as rusty as the whole house and he scoffs.

keep reading

#my writing #my fics #tainara black #top five 2020

[lorei-writes]

Had it happened in the future

Part 2, The eye that would never see

Masamune x MC ( Mizusaki Mai) Modern AU Word count: 2150-ish There is some fluff, there is some angst. I must add trigger warnings for: child abuse, child neglect, mention of injuries, gun violence and being thrown out of the house.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, as Ikemen Sengoku is the property of Cybrid. Anything included in the story is not canon.

The key turned smoothly inside the lock, making almost no sound, and the door to small flat opened before them. They never really had got a chance to hang out at his place, as Masamune claimed it was more convenient if he came to see her. However, he was unusually tired and he did live closer to his workplace than Mai did.

To Mai’s surprise, Masamune rushed her inside and immediately crouched down, the door still slightly ajar. She searched the wall for a light switch, to find it in a couple of seconds. As the light illuminated the room, she noticed a small ball of fur he held tightly. „ Sorry, kitten, should have told you earlier. I forgot how much of a door dasher Shogetsu is”, Masamune said, as he let go of the little creature, now wagging its tail, anger oozing out of the tiny body. Mai lit up in excitement. „ Is that the kitten we found in that dumpster?”, she asked, her gaze fixed on still a bit displeased tabby cat. „ Yep. Ieyasu probably won't admit it, but he stayed up for more than a few nights to care for it. He decided Shogetsu was ready to move here just a couple of days ago, it was all kinda hectic. You have no idea how many pet food brands there are and how many of them are utter shit,” Masamune sighed. Had it been anybody but Mai, he'd try to hide his tiredness, but with her he didn't feel the need to. He stood up and walked into the main part of his flat, only to sink into the sofa bed. „ Fridge is all yours kitten, if you want anything. Just make sure not to lock Shogetsu in there, whiskers tries to get that tail of his into all sorts of trouble. I had to take apart the kitchen cabinets because he got stuck.” Mai sat next to him, giggling. „ What's so funny, huh?” „ You sound like a tired parent, that's all. You're cute,” she answered, giving him a peck on the cheek. „ I am not cute.” Masamune frowned for a moment, only to relax once he recognised the look in her eyes – that loving, unconditional acceptance she emanated. He'd like to say Mai was adorable or cute, yet he knew very well those words were too minuscule, too close to the corporeal nature of things, to ever accurately describe how he saw her – he wasn't sure any words could. Maybe it was because her beauty wasn't necessarily physical, or maybe that's how love made it seem.

Either due to tiredness or the comforting situation, he didn't pay much attention to his surroundings for a moment. Then, he suddenly felt a slight tug and his eyepatch fell from his face, soon being taken hostage by the cat. Instantly, Masamune felt a freezing cold traveled through his body, as he moved his hand to cover the scar on his face. Meanwhile, Shogetsu ran, one of the strings in his mouth – he jumped from the sofa bed to the countertop, from where he accessed one of the shelves on the wall. He knocked over some books, almost sending them all flying to the floor, and in just mere seconds had climbed onto the top of the kitchen cabinets, squeezing in the space between them and the ceiling. He tucked himself in the corner there, his eyes glowing  in the darkness. „ Fuck. I'll need a ladder to take him out of there, just wait a second,” Masamune said, still covering part of his face. „ I'll probably need both hands,though. So, yeah. It's not a pretty sight, you can look away.” He was just about to stand up, when Mai spoke softly: „ Shogetsu doesn't seem to be chewing on it. Maybe we can fetch the eyepatch later?” She moved closer to him, placing a hand over his. „ You don't have to hide it. I don't mind,” she assured. Assuming the tension leaving his posture was a sign of consent, Mai brushed his fingers away, delicately uncovering the scar underneath. It started in his brow, went down and divided the eyelid in half, all to stop at the top of his cheek. “ How did you get it?” a question escaped her lips. „ That story's long and no fun at all”, Masamune whispered back. „ I want to know regardless.”

He couldn't answer her instantly. He just knew he would regret any words he would muster at that very moment. Yet, he couldn't ignore her either. He took a deep breath and closed his only eye, just to reopen it a few, too short, moments later. „ Fine,” he started, looking into her eyes. „ But don't worry about it all too much, okay? Past is in the past.” Mai nodded, a fierce look on her face. „ You know, I had pretty rough start in life. Mother didn't exactly plan to be left alone with a kid and worked two jobs to somehow keep us afloat. She did remarry when I was eight or so and it got much better then, so yeah,” he stopped for a moment, looking for words. „ Well, either way, I was free to do whatever I liked after school and I usually tagged along some older kids. Not really the kind you'd want your son to hang out with, but hey, what was I, six? Something like that. You know, it wasn't nice neighborhood, some buildings were falling apart there and that's were we'd go. The older guys started arguing and a fight broke out, somebody threw a brick or some rubble and it hit me pretty hard in the face. I don't remember much after that, but somebody got alarmed by the noise, came to check it out and called the ambulance. Apparently I got some bones – skull or  just the eyesocket ? – cracked and the eye was damaged pretty bad, too. Well, that's what I was told when I woke up without an eye. Heh, I had to make up for half a year of schoolwork then and barely passed the year.” Mai took his hand into hers, giving it a squeeze. „ It must have been so hard.” „ Kinda? Well, I got pretty depressed then, but I had to go on. I've already been enough of a burden before that. I had to get myself together, especially since mother got married again and had another kid like a year after that? Can't lie, I became pretty irrelevant to her once Kojirou was born.” A shock surfaced on her face. Why was he telling her all the ugly and hurtful things? He wasn't sure. But in that moment, he felt like he should. „ What sort of mother would think like that? It's disgusting.” „ She wasn't exactly a model parent, okay? But step-dad was pretty nice, even if he was a military man. And we did have a house and food in the fridge and I could go to school and study without much worries – what else could I want, right? He didn't discriminate against me for not being his child, so yeah. Bonus points for that, I guess,” he stopped, as his gaze traveled outside the window. Masamune continued: „ It made headlines then: ' A military man shot in his own house by a robber '. I came home late from the party that night. The front door was open wide, so I knew something was wrong. I didn't expect to see the old man in the kitchen with his hands above his head, a gun pointed at him. He got shot before I even got a chance to get to the guy. The rest is all a blur – police cars, sirens, ambulance, hospital. Old man passed a few hours after it all happened, mother blamed it on me, gave me an hour to pack up and kicked me out. I haven't seen her or my brother since then.” Only after finishing the last sentence, he realised Mai was hugging him tightly. He eased into her embrace and she pulled them both to lay down, placing his head on her chest. She stroke his hair tenderly. „ What happened after that?” „ Ieyasu took me in for two weeks. Then Hideyoshi learnt of what happened, started panicking and offered to share a flat with me. He really did earn the nickname „Mamayoshi”. So, I agreed, found some jobs, worked my ass off for the next couple of years, saved some money, borrowed some from  Nobunaga and others, moved out and started my business. If everything goes well, I'll pay them off by the end of the year.” „ Why a diner though? Wouldn't it be easier to join military?” „ It would, but I wouldn't like that. They really do have a tendency to prey on unfortunate people. And in the end, wars don't feed hungry people, but there's more than enough food to do so – yet some still don't have enough to eat. I'd rather work on that.” Mai pressed a kiss to the top of his head. „ Thanks for opening up to me,” she whispered, her hands stroking his back. She was almost sure no words she could muster would uplift any of his burden – but she could be there for him and hold him tight, and so she decided it had to be enough that time. Masamune propped himself up on his elbow. He faced her. „ Now that you've heard my confession, it's my time to ask,” he said, a tinge of curiosity washing over his face. „ I'm listening then.” „ Why did you even step into my diner?” „  I've been working as a fashion designer for a little over two years by that time and... It wasn't really what I expected it to be. I worked with one of the fast fashion brands then and it kinda ate me alive. I wanted to make it easier for others to express themselves with my designs, to make their lives easier, but in the end I was encouraged to steal the ideas from independent creators. Even if my designs came to life, it wasn't the way it should have been – the clothes were made to be cheap, not lasting. And then, yet another workshop incident surfaced, and I felt so, so, so guilty for contributing to that. Fast fashion really is disgusting... And, on that day, I quit my job and just wanted to eat something, anything, so I just stepped in. I half-expected it to be another place serving fried everything, though,” she laughed. „ But the food was good. I felt inspired for the first time in months then. So I decided to come back and just kept doing that.” „Of course the food was good, I wouldn't serve clogged arteries on the plate...” Masamune murmured, as he tickled her sides.  Mai squirmed underneath him, trying to save herself from the sudden ambush. „ What exactly have I done to deserve that?”, she huffed, unable to stop laughing. „ Doubted my cooking. It's punishable by suffocating with laughter. However, there may be another way, just for you.” „ What way?” „ Kiss me”. Without a second thought, she cupped his face and brought it closer to herself. The first kiss was full of hunger, almost desperate in its roughness, as if they tried to wash the old scars away with it. Her hands kept him close, gripping his shirt tightly on the back. However, as a sun comes after a rainy weather, their caresses became gradually sweeter. Her lips moved away for a second, just to come back and place soft, soothing kisses all over his face – on his forehead, on the top of his nose, on his cheeks, his eyelids, along his jawline, just to come to rest at his temple. „ Kitten, you really are the best,” Masamune mustered, a wide smile on his face. He turned his head to look at the clock. „ It's getting late. You want to stay the night, or should I give you a ride back?” „ I'd stay, but I have no idea how we'd fit here. I wouldn't want to wake up on the floor, because somebody moved too much in his sleep,” she winked at him. „ Then we're set, the sofa converts to bed.”

***

A few months had passed. Mai looked up from her sketchbook, overflowing with new ideas. Masamune was waiting for her by the window, the diner already cleaned up for the next day. „ Come on, kitten. We've gotta go home. I'll whip you something up once we are there”. She stood up and joined him, ready for the day to be over. 

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #masamune x mc #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #my ff #child abuse tw #child abuse #major injury #violence #character death mention #gun violence #child neglect

[lilopelckai]

|| Get to know LILO who’s TWENTY-ONE years old and a JUNIOR in college majoring in MECHANICS. She is from HAWAII and is often times mistaken for LULU ANTARIKSA while others say she reminds them of LILO from LILO AND STITCH. || 

hello all, it i, pepper coming at ya once again on that new muse juice (... that sounds so gross omg i’m sorry dkjsdkj). today i am HYPE to introduce you all with my bby lilo!! honestly lilo and stitch is one of my fave movies of all time so sdkjsdk NO PRESSURE YK but anyways down bellow will be a bit about ya girl!

BIO (ish, thing tjkfj)

Lilo is weird. She’s a weirdo. She doesn’t fit in, and she doesn’t WANT to fit in. Have you ever seen her without that stupid mumu? That’s WEIRD

dfkdjsdk sorry i had to, i put joke in my app and i had to make it again aNYWAYS FOR REAL NOW

tldr ; she’s lilo, just kinda sadder sdkjds saw her parents die, went to therapy, doesn’t really ever feel like she belongs, is afraid of loving anyone because she’s afraid of losing them, the Works Folks. also teaches hula now! kinda wants to be a photography major! has an instagram following! i think that’s it oof 

For the most part I don’t plan to deviate from Lilo’s cannon storyline too much seeing as you know, she’s a human and not a humanoid turtle that knows karate so I don’t feel like I need to change TOO much BUT i do want to flesh her out a bit.

First, I headcannon that Lilo was actually in the car during her parents car accident. She was in the backseat and came out of the whole thing relatively uninjured physically, but mentally, and emotionally, well, that was a different story. This is the biggest explanation for the darkness deep in Lilo’s psyche, the reason she had to sit through so much therapy with so many psychologists over the years., You see, Lilo was odd prior to the accident but that eccentricity only seemed to be amplified there after. That combined with the fact that all of her friends abruptly abandoned her after her parents death (literally cannon, can you believe it, screw mertle sdkjdsj) Lilo was kind of left in no mans land emotionally. Therapy never really helped her much unfortunately, and for long time Lilo simply tried to do anything she could to cope. Whether that was pretending she and Mertle were still friends, or praying to god for some sort of angel, or getting unfairly angry with her sister. Lilo spent a long time after her parents death just barely trying to keep afloat, until after a while she stopped having to try. She’s gotten so good at pretending she’s okay that she’s almost even convinced herself.

Like I said Lilo has also always been the type that people struggled to understand. She was a harmless girl, but she said odd things without hesitation, and she never quite got along with her peers, or even other adults because of it. Honestly outside of her family Lilo had few friends because no one could really understand her, and despite the pain of that, Lilo swallowed it down and continued on. Pretty soon, Lilo started to get into the habit of keeping people at arms length, of pushing people away before they could reject her. It was easier being the weird girl, being the one people pointed at and whispered about than being the girl who desperately just wanted a friend. So Lilo slowly buried that girl down deep over time. She tries not to let her out, she’s a real buzz kill.

That was until Stitch of course. She let Stitch in. It wasn’t honestly at the time, the part of Lilo that was so desperate for friendship was still open and bleeding then. She accepted Stitch into her life with open arms and little questions, and to this day he’s still her best friend and her brother. He’s one of the few people who have accepted her fully for who she is, weird shit and all, and Lilo couldn’t be more grateful for him.

I have a headcannon that the Pelekai’s kind of became maybe a bit of a group home? Just because of all the experiments who came in and out of their place. In my mind the experiments were children who Lilo, Nani, her uncle Jumba and Aunt Pleakley would do their best to find amazing homes for. This was Lilo’s idea, after meeting Stitch.

Honestly Lilo uses her weirdness as a bit of a shield. If she’s weird enough then it’s like people know who she is immediately, and the people who wouldn’t want to be around her because of it will leave. She wasn’t rejected, and it didn’t hurt because SHE was the one in control if that makes sense? Being as odd as possible is just a way to keep her heart safe sometimes, and when people stick around despite how odd she is Lilo doesn’t really know what to do honestly.

Despite this Lilo is still very friendly. She feels no qualms about talking to people or speaking her mind, honestly, it’s never been something she’s had an issue with. She’s just chosen not to care whether those people actually like her or not, or at least has numbed herself to caring about that if that makes sense.

A rebellious streak a mile wide tbh. Lilo never wants to hurt anybody of course and she never will unless pushed to the breaking point (ex. That one time she lashed out at Mertle) , but she never has been and never will be obedient. She’s known to get into mischief occasionally, and she doesn’t love being told what to do,

HEADCANNONS ;

Still loves photography and actually sometimes considers changing her major. She chose mechanics because the idea of helping Stitch get up into space was something that she was always excited about -- honestly the concept of them being together even in their adult lives was just too reassuring to her-- and she rationalized it all by telling herself that she wanted to take photos for herself and for money. But photography is her passion honestly and she genuinely has a bit of a talent for it. She’s done a few art galleries and won a couple of minor awards, and even in her spare time she tends to walk around Corona with a camera looking for things take pictures of. Her photos aren’t ever exactly… everyone’s cup of tea, but they’re thought provoking at the very least.

In my mind Lilo takes a lot of photos with body diverse models, honestly for the most part she will only take photos of body diverse models.

At this point I think she has photography as her minor.

A bisexual babe because none of my muses are ever straight.

Also a demigirl. Lilo was kind of inspired by her Aunt Pleakley to truly consider her gender (I headcannon that Pleakley is gender fluid or a trans woman but that’s just me) and it was through that careful consideration that Lilo realized she didn’t fully identify as a girl.

Very accepting. Very liberal. Has gotten arrested at a protest once. Very much will stand up for her beliefs and the rights of others dkdsdkjd is Not here for prejudice or toxic masculinity will fight you on sight !!!

Still loves dancing. One of her proudest accomplishments is winning the hula competition that her mother won back home in Kauai. She doesn’t dance professionally in any other styles, but she does love to dance and she will indulge in that from time to time. I think she might teach the occasional hula lesson at the local gym but it’s probably a specialty thing like once every two weeks or something. She does have some regularly who come though and that always makes her happy.

Still loves the ocean and surfing as well, and honestly will go to the ocean no matter the weather and put her wetsuit on to have a good time. You can find Lilo on the beach at anytime, especially when she’s homesick, just smelling the salt of the ocean and riding the waves.

Also still tries to feed Pudge the fish peanut butter sandwiches, because she maintains that he does control the weather (also the fact that there’s a theory that Lilo used to feed pudge the fish because it was raining the day of her parents car crash and she him to make the weather nice so that never happens to anyone again has me FUCKED UP it will always have me FUCKED UP and that is all).

lilo is also a big philiophobe tbh, like i said she has a lot of issues getting attached to people because she feels like they might just leave so love really scares her? and she tends to freak out at just the thought of it so sdksdk love this for her she gets crushes on people occasionally but the moment things start to get serious this bitch will DIP

loves to have fun though! she doesn’t tend to get asked out on a lot of dates tbh but your girl tens to have a few drunken hook ups here and there and she finds those fun. she also regularly likes to go on tinder and fuck with people. not even catfishing them or anything she just likes to message them weird shit and have a good time dkjdf

has a big ass heart tbh. she would give someone the shirt off her back without any hesitation. she’s just a really kind person despite being hurt so much before, and she honestly never intends to hurt anyone even if she does so accidentally or in anger yk? Like if you fucked with her, then she might lash out for a hot minute but after she’s cooled down it’ll be like damn,,, didn’t mean to do that. Honestly she just has a bit of a temper lowkey but she actually feels guilty after unlike some people *cough* local devil kronk turtle man *cough*

Can’t hold a grudge for the life of her. Forgives way too easily rip 

Has a photography instagram that’s actually pretty damn popular! She’s got a good amount of followers on there and while Lilo’s proud she doesn’t really know what to do with all the positive attention on her weird as shit photos?

WANTED CONNECTIONS ;

i have a wanted connection tag here! check it out and if anything in there catches your eye just lemme know!

GIRL SQUAD ; please. please. i’m out here,,, beggin fdkdfkfd i really want lilo to have some female friends okay just a cute little squad of buds, i’m picturing the skam girl squad, i’m picturing those girls from pretty little liars that i can’t remember the name of, i’m picturing idk the girls from that one movie with tiffany haddish jsut sds pLEASE Y’ALL vanellope & tink

EX-SOMETHING ; this could either be someone who like actually got close enough for lilo to freak the freak out and dip like someone she nearly fell in love with or fell in love with her and kind of triggered her GOTTA GO reflex lmao or someone she casually dated for the fun of it, maybe they even went on a few dates before they realized they were better as friends?

ENEMIES ; someone who doesn’t like lilo and lilo doesn’t like in return. Or maybe it’s one sided we can plot it out!

PARTNER IN CRIME ; this is the person who Lilo will end up in prison with. This is the person who she goes to when she just wants to go crazy aaah go stupid. Love this for her. caitlin !

PHOTOGRAPHY BUD OR MUSE ; exactly what it says on the tin. Someone who will let Lilo sit on their shoulders so she can Get That Shot. Somebody who will be like Tom Holland in this post and Do It For The Gram!!! phoenix

EX-TINDER DATE ; honestly this could align with the second ex something or even the first or be something different completely! but like i said lilo tends to go on tinder dates to mess around with people so she would just be as weird as possible during the date for shits and giggles tbh and it was probably a really fun time unless your muse was really serious about it! We can discuss what happened on the actual date and have a wild time

SOMEONE SHE TUTORS ; surprisingly engineering and other sciences comes really easy to Lilo so this goes out to science majors I suppose! 

A CRUSH ; self explanatory I think but if anyone is willing to let Lilo have a a bit of a crush on their muse hmu. buttercup!

SIBLING LIKE CONNECTION ; !!! love this omg if anyone wants to give Lilo a pseudo sibling i would love this.

FWB/CASUAL HOOKUP ; self explanatory i think

i think that’s all i can think of for now but !!! plot with me please! that is all thank you sdksdjk

#l.p. | bio. #oof finished

[rockinthebeastmode]

Car Radio

A/N: I’m not sure what happened. I was listening to this song (for the millionth time because it’s one of my favorite songs EVER) and the S3 feels came over me and I just fucking banged this out in two hours. It’s a bit reminiscent of Dreaming of Revelry because there’s lyrics involved but it turned out better executed IMO. Hopefully. Hope you enjoy!

You can find my other fics here.

@mmfdfanfic @eveerez @i-dream-of-emus @lilaviolet @lau-vm @hey1tskat1e @tinakegg @kneekeyta @likeashootingstarfades @girl-looking-out-window @stinemarine @lurkernolonger @crystalgiddings1993

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the tag list and if I missed anyone :)

Car Radio

I ponder of something great

Finn didn’t know if this was the best or worst idea he’d ever had.

He knew Rae didn’t hate him. Sure, she was upset. Why wouldn’t she be? He had cheated on her.

He had cheated on her with some rando that wasn’t even his type, someone who was open and available and filling his head with all this bullshit.

Bullshit like he was holding Rae back. Like she’d be better off leaving Stamford behind, leaving him behind. Like she didn’t love him enough to stay.

My lungs will fill and then deflate They fill with fire Exhale desire

Finn shook his head, dragging on his cigarette resolutely. He filled his lungs to bursting with smoke before letting it all go in a huge whoosh.

Katie was full of it, for sure. He knew that as soon as Rae had shown up at his place, wanting to make it work. Now, he had to take the initiative. Fix everything.

I know it's dire My time today

He went to look at his car radio for the time and cursed. Damn thing wasn’t even worth shit and someone still stole it. He checked his watch and nodded to himself, starting the car.

The drive to Bristol was only about 3 hours if he kept up speed. He sped off moments later.

I have these thoughts So often I ought To replace that slot With what I once bought 'Cause somebody stole My car radio And now I just sit in silence

*** Sometimes quiet is violent I find it hard to hide it

Finn had always been the quiet type. He always felt like he’d say the wrong thing or be completely misunderstood. That seemed to happen more often than not.

So many times, instead of talking, he’d fight and argue instead. Use his fists to prove a point.

He had so many fucking words in his head but he couldn’t get them to come out right. He reckoned if he’d just talked to Rae about how he was feeling, they could’ve talked everything out, figured out an alternative.

He had just been so pissed in the moment. She told him that fucking interview went to shit, there was no way she’d get in. Then BOOM, let’s celebrate, Finn, Rae’s off to uni and you’re stuck here.

My pride is no longer inside It's on my sleeve

He hated seeing her cry. But she did it! She lied to him. He was so heartbroken over that, he couldn’t look past to the truth--that she was just as freaked out as he was. She didn’t wanna leave him, right? Right?

My skin will scream Reminding me of Who I killed inside my dream

He still has dreams about that night. Like he’s standing on the sidelines as his older stupid dickhead self spews all this shit about her not loving him and needing a break and she’s crying and telling him to wait and finally, finally, he comes from the side, takes that older version’s place and pleads with Rae, begs her to reconsider their options. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t even realize he’s changed. He’s already driven away. Then he wakes up.

I hate this car that I'm driving There's no hiding for me I'm forced to deal with what I feel

The engine sputtered and he rolled his eyes as he changed gears, glancing darkly at the empty radio slot. Chop had offered to replace it once he saw it was gone but he reckoned this was his punishment. No music, no noise, no distractions. Just feeling everything instead of repressing it.

There is no distraction to mask what is real I could pull the steering wheel

What would he do if she turned him away? What would happen if he drove all this way and she said, “No, Finn, it’s over. I’m done with you.”?

He thought of what was left back home for him.

His dad worked more often than not. His Nan was dead. His mother was gone. His mates, well, they were moving on. Archie, Chloe and Izzy were all in school. Chop managed the garage now, had his hands full keeping that afloat.

If Rae wouldn’t take him back, he didn’t have a single fucking thing going for him.

I have these thoughts So often I ought To replace that slot With what I once bought 'Cause somebody stole My car radio And now I just sit in silence

***

I ponder of something terrifying 'Cause this time there's no sound to hide behind

This silence was fucking deafening. He tried to keep his mind on the road in front of him but he was so used to music being in the background of every moment. The lack of music just reminded him that Rae wasn’t here.

He could pin so many moments of his time with Rae to music. Columbia for when he was just starting to fancy Rae. Slide Away for when they got back together. Fade Into You for when he hugged her, wrote I LOVE YOU.

No Surprises for when he left her behind for Leeds. Don’t Go Away for when she broke up with him.

Wonderwall for...well. For always.

I find over the course of our human existence One thing consists of consistence And it's that we're all battling fear

Finn realized now, after a few years of knowing Rae, that fear motivated a lot of her decisions. She was scared to ask him to stay and so he left for Leeds. She was afraid of what people might think of them together and broke up with him. She feared telling him how she felt about leaving Stamford.

He’d been guilty of the same. He’d been terrified she wouldn’t fancy him back so he bottled it, kept his feelings to himself until it all came tits up at her mum’s reception. He’d been scared to talk to her about her issues and so they became the one thing that tore them apart. He’d feared asking her to stay with him. Because what if he really was holding her back?

Oh dear, I don't know if we know why we're here Oh my, Too deep Please stop thinking I liked it better when my car had sound

God, this silence was driving him batty. All he could think about was every single minute they’d gone wrong and what he could’ve done to stop it. This all happened years ago, why was it still stinging today?

Maybe because they’d never fully dealt with everything. He remembered that night they’d gotten back together, finally made love for the first time. They’d chosen sex over talking, and while they had talked afterwards, did they really hash out everything? Was there something they missed?

There are things we can do But from the things that work there are only two And from the two that we choose to do Peace will win And fear will lose

He focused on the road, noting he was about halfway there. Had he really spent an hour agonizing over his relationship with Rae? No wonder they needed to bloody talk.

“What the sodding fuck am I gonna say when I get there?” he exclaimed out loud, his fingers shaking slightly against the wheel. He wanted another cigarette but he wasn’t very good at smoking and driving. He always ended up catching the cherry on the window or getting smoke in his eyes or losing grip on the wheel when trying to ash.

There was only one thing for it really. He’d go in, tell Rae to sit the fuck down and listen and he’d pour his heart out and list every goddamn thing he’d just went over in his head.

And if she still didn’t want him back, he’d pull out the big guns.

He’d tell her that he loved her. He’d tell her that he needed her. He’d tell her that he wanted her by his side.

He’d beg if he had to.

There's faith and there's sleep We need to pick one please because Faith is to be awake And to be awake is for us to think And for us to think is to be alive

He blasted the AC, cursing himself for driving this late. He’d worked all day and come home to an empty apartment and for what felt like the thousandth time, had thought to himself, I want her back, I need her.

Tonight had been different. He’d dropped to the couch and thought, What if I got her back?

What if I drove to Bristol? Just to visit. Just to make sure she’s okay. Just to tell her how I feel for once.

What if I left right now?

And I will try with every rhyme To come across like I am dying To let you know you need to try to think

If she didn’t feel the same, fine. He’d lost her twice now. He thought he could get through it again.

But he was dying without her. He was wasting away with the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t know the truth. She didn’t know he ached for her, needed her like fucking oxygen.

I have these thoughts So often I ought To replace that slot With what I once bought 'Cause somebody stole My car radio And now I just sit in silence

***

I ponder of something great My lungs will fill and then deflate They fill with fire Exhale desire I know it's dire My time today

Finn reached her dormitory at half past midnight, frantically smoking a rollie outside in the parking lot. It was late but he knew she’d be up. They’d been known for their late nights, whether with the gang or just each other. Even being alone now didn’t change that.

He flicked the butt away, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans. He took a deep breath, coughing slightly in the cool night air. He went into the building, repeating her room info like a mantra.

Room 3B. Room 3B. Room 3B.

He went to the lift, running a hand through his hair as it ascended to the third floor. He stared into the mirror on the side, pushing at his cheeks and eye circles, sighing at the state of his hair. His jeans were covered in oil stains and his flannel was wrinkled to shit. Oh fucking well. Maybe his disheveled appearance would work in his favor.

The elevator dinged open and he strode out onto the floor, looking both ways for B. He found it quickly, only a couple doors away from where he was standing. He bit his lip as he approached the door, holding his arms around himself. He took one more deep breath before he raised his hand to knock.

I have these thoughts So often I ought To replace that slot With what I once bought 'Cause somebody stole My car radio And now I just sit in silence

His breath was caught in his throat as Rae opened the door, giving him a look of shock at first. He exhaled in relief when a huge grin broke across her face. She rushed forward to hug him, almost knocking them both to the floor. He couldn’t help burying his face in her neck, inhaling her scent deeply. He noticed her doing the same and beamed, already feeling lighter.

“I was just thinking about you and here you are,” she whispered, still clinging to him. He nodded against her, pulling away to look in her eyes.

“Here I am.”

#mmfd fanfiction #mmfd fanfic #mmfdfanfic #my mad fat diary fanfic #my mad fat diary fanfiction #my mad fat diary #mymadfatdiary

[chainsawbettyloo]

Title: Sharks Are Proven to be The Best Cure for Anxiety 

Pairing: Sidlink 

Tags: Fluff, straight fluff, little bit of sad but not a whole lot, little bit of selective mute!Link 

Summary: Link has a panic attack and his shark boyfriend helps him through it 

A/N: Thank you for the request! Sorry this took so long! I’m not sure if this is one hundred percent in line to what the majority of panic attacks are like but this is personally been my experience with them so hopefully, it’s close enough! Anyway, hope you like it! 

This has been cross posted to my AO3 so if you’d like to read it there! Comments, reblogs, and kudos are very much appreciated! Thanks! 

-

It had come on suddenly without any warning and, within a few moments, he was completely at its mercy.

Standing by the side of a shrine he had just cleared, his fingernails scraping against the hard rock, Link clenched his eyes shut, hot tears burning at the corners, threatening to fall at any moment, and struggled to keep his erratic, desperate breathing under control. Inside his chest, his heart hammered hard against his ribs, as though it was trying to break free of its confines.  Even though his eyes were closed, it still felt like the world was spinning violently, pitching him about as though he were on a dingy raft in the middle of a quick moving river during a vicious storm. His legs were shaking so badly that he felt for certain he was going to collapse at any moment. Distantly, he could hear his own ragged breath dragging itself out of his wide open mouth. Bile swirled sickeningly in his stomach, threatening to spew forth if he even so much as twitched.

Then there was the panic. The monster of irrationality and terror shrieking incoherently inside of his head, it’s fingernails clawing at the corners of his mind as though it were trying to rip his brain to shreds. He wasn’t even really sure what had set it off this time, but at the moment, figuring out the reason wasn’t all that important nor did it really matter that much to him. All he wanted was to calm down, though that in of itself was a momentous task, especially considering his mind could hardly even piece together a complete sentence.

Digging his fingers into the rough surface of the Shrine’s outer walls, Link fought to keep himself upright but could feel himself losing the battle. Tears were beginning to stream without abandon down his burning face, he felt like was going to vomit at any moment and the panic was growing by the second, amplified by the fact that he was very much aware that he was out in the open, completely vulnerable. A monster could creep up behind him easily. In his current state, he was a sitting duck, easy prey. Thinking that didn’t help him at all but once the beast inside of his head caught wind of that fear, it began raving at the top of his lungs that that was exactly what was going to happen.

Gasping raspily, he pushed back against the beast, allowing his legs to buckle so he could put the strength he had been using to stay upright and turn it against the screaming in his mind. Over and over again, he tried to repeat that he needed to calm down, nothing was wrong, everything was going to be fine as long as he calmed down but, as usual, his demands fell on deaf ears. It was like shouting at the stone wall he was currently hanging onto. All in all, a completely fruitless, hollow and impossible task. He knew his only option was to wait it out, to let it run his course, vomit up the leftovers and cry out whatever remained. Still, he fought, hoping that this time would be the one time he won over it instead of being fucked over by it, left exhausted and infuriated with himself for being so weak.

A large, cool hand suddenly rested on the top of his head, earning a loud, startled yelp from him. His legs immediately locked up, freezing him in place. For a split moment, the vibrantly violent image of turning around to find a monster standing over him, weapon raised high over its head, ready to bring it down onto Link in an attempt to extinguish the life from him flashed in front of his eyes. What little breath was in his lungs rushed out in a loud, rattling gust. His body, which had already been shivering, began to shake fiercely. Like a leaf in the wind, he thought distantly, his sputtering mind conjuring up an absurd picture of himself as an actual leaf, attached to a tree.

“Link, it’s me, my love.” A familiar voice spoke from somewhere above him. “What’s the matter?”

Managing to turn his head just a little ways to the left, Link was blessed with the hazy, teary sight of the lower half of Sidon’s body. Immediately, his disorientated brain began to chant loudly ‘Sidon’s here! Sidon’s here! Sidon’s here!’ in a relieved, ecstatic tone. The panic, however, was not to be outdone - it raised it’s voice even higher, sending high pitched wails echoing throughout his entire body. Shuddering, gasping and coughing, Link struggled to reach out to Sidon. To his relief, the Zora Prince knelt down beside him, one hand still reassuringly on his back, the other reaching forward to take the hand Link was trying to grab hold of him with.

Pressing tight to his side, Sidon lovingly stroked his large hand up and down the length of Link’s spine, “It’s alright, everything is okay, I’m right here. Breathe, my love. Take it slow and easy. Breathe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Sidon’s voiced washed over him in a wave of blissful comfort. Squeezing his hand tightly, Link allowed himself to fall sideways, against Sidon’s chest. Strong arms immediately encased him, the Zora Prince’s voice never ceasing in raining gentle whispers of encouragement and love down onto him. The panic still raged but was quickly losing it’s footing. With each new breath he was able to pull in, Sidon’s scent surrounding him, the feeling of his skin against his own and his voice filling his ears, his mind, it’s strength dwindled. Link ignored it’s fading screeches and instead focused both on the rhythm of his breathing and the gentle words coming from his beloved Sidon. With something to put his mind to, something for it to grasp onto like a drowning man grabs hold of anything that could keep him afloat, Link could feel the panic vanishing into the depths of his mind.

Unsurprisingly, he found himself exhausted, nauseous and a breath away from bursting into sobs. Still breathing a bit raggedly, he weakly scooted back a little from Sidon so he could look up at him. The Zora Prince returned his gaze, his eyes heavy with concern and alarm. Reaching forward, he swiped the pad of his thumb along Link’s cheek, gently brushing away the lingering tears. Leaning down, he pressed a quick, soft kiss against Link’s lips, apparently uncaring of the snot and tears caked on and around them. Pulling back slightly, he looked into Link’s eyes and asked, “What happened, my love?”

Sniffing hard, still feeling woozy and disoriented, Link took a moment to respond. Struggling to get his thoughts together, he could already tell his voice was not going to work. Holding out his shaking hands, he clumsily sighed, “I don’t know. One minutes I was fine, next thing I knew, I was like that. It’s just something that happens.”

“This has happened before?” Sidon asked, his tone startled.

Link nodded shakily, “From time to time. I just-it-sometimes-I dunno…”

“Why haven’t you told me, Link?” The Zora Prince asked, his voice strained. “Link, you’ve been dealing with this by yourself?”

“It doesn’t happen often.” Which was true, but he still felt guilty for having kept these little episodes secret from Sidon. He was already bothered enough by Link romping around completely alone, with the weight of saving the world on his shoulders. And that was partly the reason he hadn’t informed Sidon - he simply didn’t want to worry him any more. Though, he could already tell that reasoning was not going to fly.

There was a tense moment of silence, during which the panic still on the edges of his mind began to rear it’s ugly face again, whispering that Sidon was disappointed in him, mad at him, that he had messed up, leading to even more tears to run down Link’s face when suddenly, the Zora Prince sighed, his shoulders dropping before he reached forward and gathered Link up in his arms.

“It’s alright. I’m not mad, my love. We’ll need to talk about this but not right now. Right now, we’re just going to focus on helping you feel okay. What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help you, please.”

Melting into Sidon’s arms, the last remnants of panic stomped away into oblivion, Link rested his cheek on his broad, muscular shoulder. Warmth, comfort and exhaustion washed over him. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, streaming down his hot cheeks onto Sidon’s skin. Curling his arms lightly around Sidon’s neck, he managed to whisper in a husky, raspy voice, “Just you being here is more than enough.”

Sidon didn’t respond. Instead, he shifted around until his back was to the shrine and leaned against the rocky, craggy wall. Cradling Link in his arms, he began to gently stroke his hair. He felt him lean down, press a warm kiss onto the top of his head.  

“No more secrets, Link.”

Link sleepily shook his head, “I’ll tell you everything.”

Another kiss was placed against the tip of his ear, “I’ll hold you too that. Now, sleep, my love.”

“Stay with me.” Link breathed, feeling his mind already surrendering to slumber, soothed by Sidon’s voice. He understood that it was a silly request - Sidon wouldn’t leave him sleeping out in the open, completely vulnerable but still, he wanted to hear his beloved Zora Prince promise.

“Of course, nothing could ever make me leave your side.” Sidon cooed lovingly into his ear, his arms tightening around Link, “I love you, Link.”

“I love you too, Sidon. Thank you...for everything.”

“Of course, my love.” The Zora Prince whispered.

Focusing on the feeling of Sidon gently stroking his hair, Link allowed his eyes to fall closed, his entire mind completely occupied with his beloved Prince Sidon, and quickly fell into a peaceful, quiet slumber.  

#prince sidon #sidlink #lidon #breath of the wild #loz #mywriting #prompts

[ofgoldenblood]

I had to take the time to come fangirl in your inbox because I am truly in love with your writing. I read your latest update for the 'more than a ghost au' and you managed to make me commit to the story despite my not shipping Lightstar. It's a true testament to how talented you are. My jaw dropped at the quality of this verse. I think your insight into the inner workings of Jonathan's twisted mind is extraordinary and

your portrayal is nothing short of brilliant. You make him human and it’s all that I could ask for when he is the most misunderstood character in this fandom. I especially look forward to every update of your abo verse and your hooker au since Jalec is my otp. These stories make me genuinely happy and there are no words that could possibly express how grateful my Jalec heart is for having such a wonderful writer pen my favorite pairing. From a fan

First of all, thank you so much for this lovely message. Your words really cheered me up & I loved hearing that you enjoy my portrayal(s). There’s a lot of controversy about Sebastian and it’s always nice to meet someone else who appreciates him, despite his obvious shortcomings & villainy!!Tbh, I will never understand why people watch shows like SH & then non-stop point out ‘bad’ things and complain about the bad guys. If you want drama-free & entirely harmless then maybe you should watch something like Dora the Explorer instead of hating on people who enjoy a good drama-driven story. Drama requires villains or at least people fucking up, otherwise there would be no conflict and conflict (& its resolve) is usually what makes a story thrilling or interesting. I’m sure most of us want drama-free lives, but who wants to WATCH that, really? BUT I AM SORRY FOR RANTING… so I will continue to rant under the cut.

I agree with you that Sebastian is misunderstood, even if most people in this fandom immediately start fuming when someone says that. Because they think misunderstood = poor mistreated little cupcake. That is not what he is. He is a killer, he is cruel & merciless and he knows no remorse for the things he does and the lives he takes. I am not excusing those actions.He is, however, deeply disturbed and a victim of tremendous abuse. He was drugged literally before he was born, with something that altered his very being & gave him no chance to grow up a ‘normal’ boy. His mother abandoned him because the only other choice she saw was to kill him. As far as he knos, she never even considered trying to save him. His father never loved him, called him a monster that nobody could ever love & literally whipped him (& probably other things, lbr). He isolated him from any healthy human contact & effectively stole his entire childhood. This is severe emotional and physical abuse and I wish people would stop disregarding that and instead only focus on the fact that Sebastian kissed his sister.

Valentine turned him into not a soldier but an (almost literally) soulless weapon. He made him the possibly loneliest person alive. I once saw a post in the Seb tag where someone said something along the lines of ‘I can tolerate Valentine but Sebastian is just pure evil and needs to die‘ & it pissed me off so much, because it blatantly disregards the fact that it was Valentine who made Sebastian the way he is. We’ll never know for sure, I guess, if Jon/athan Christopher hadn’t turned out to be a sociopath too (you don’t need demon blood for that), like Maia’s brother Daniel for example, but he certainly wouldn’t have been the monster that we see in the books. I really like drawing the connection to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein in Seb’s case. The monster - as the Doctor himself calls it - is presented as a vile nightmare that haunts Frankenstein and destroys his life - but really all his negative & frightening features are a result of Frankenstein’s treatment, neglect & horror. He created the monster AFTER bringing a dead person back to life. We don’t know how much of Seb’s cruelty comes from his demon blood& how much is Valentine’s influence, but I like to remind people that warlocks are half demon too, and nobody would go around saying Mag/nus is at least 50% evil.

A key thing about Seb for me is that he doesn’t understand himself. He is literally misunderstood in that way. He’s never had a chance to figure out who he is or what he wants without someone’s influence in his ear (Valentine or Lilith). He grew up with a distorted understanding of right/good & wrong/evil, so how is he supposed to agree with the ‘good guys’ when they say that it is not okay to kill someone who poses a threat to you & your plan (which is, essentially your entire life’s purpose??)? Or that desiring your sister in a way that this society finds wrong is despicable? (We literally can’t even agree here on tumblr how ‘bad’ inc/est is!!) He never experienced love, never received, felt or understood it, so he tries to bind people to him to fight his loneliness any other way possible. He is a drowning man who can’t ever escape the water but desperately struggles to stay afloat, because there is literally no alternative.

When his hate & jealousy for Jace (who is not even Valentine’s real son but somehow ends up getting everything that’s supposed to be Seb’s - his father, the illusion of a childhood, time to develop, Clary, even Jocelyn for a while, a parabatai, LOVE) threatens to destroy him, he turns them into the opposite and starts obsessing. He binds Jace to himself, tries to consume him, perhaps to somehow make Jace’s life his own. He will never get love anyway (he doesn’t UNDERSTAND IT, it’s like wanting something you don’t even know) so he’s content to have Clary & Jace with him, even if he has to keep them by force.

Now, none of this means I excuse what he does or did. I just like to think about what makes him tick & try to understand him. I love complex villains. My favorite villain is probably Hann/ibal Lec/ter (more in NBCs Hann/ibal than in the books/movies), who absolutely deserves to sit in prison for all eternity, but still is one of the most fascinating characters ever created, imo. His world view, his morals, his motivations to kill and his excuses for it need to be looked at outside any moral judgement if we want to understand human nature better, I think. You can love a character for their complexity and still judge their actions - and I think that is what most people in this fandom don’t accept. Liking Sebastian does not mean I cheer for his murders and ra/pe attempt.

AS FOR THE MORE THAN A GHOST AU, it’s one of my absolute favorites, atm, because it actually goes against my firm belief that death was the best option for Seb at the end of COHF. He’s not prepared to survive & nobody else is either. He is forced to face the consequences of his actions but suddenly lacks the conviction that they were necessary, good or even acceptable. For the first time he recognizes himself as the villain. Not as a monster- which is something wrong & unlovable - but as someONE who did horrible things & has to take responsibility for them. He is willing to do that, even if he feels like a different person & it’s actually Alec in that verse who kind of allows him to adopt that thought of Sebastian being a different person from Jonathan. That gives Jonathan hope, but at the same time it is his ultimate kryptonite. Whenever he is disappointed in his own inability to be ‘Not-Sebastian’, he regresses to telling himself he can never be anyone other than Seb. Jonathan is an idea without an anchor in reality & on his bad days Jon is convinced Alec is just telling himself & Jon a lie everyday to not feel guilty about loving his brother’s murderer.

I also headcanon that Jon doesn’t immediately become a nice person in the beginning of the verse. He ‘learned’ how to be ‘good’ so he could be able to impersonate Sebas/tian Verl/ac, but he never really internalized it. He is still impatient, more easily angered, looks to violent solutions faster than to peaceful ones. He is used to calculating damage against gain & will choose the most effective way, not matter the cost. Since he has feelings now that he didn’t have with the demon blood (presumably) and also a conscience he wouldn’t wage a war for the hell of it or to get what he wants, or sacrifice innocent people.. but he has yet to LEARN who the innocent people are. If there was a young werewolf struggling on their first full moon, threatening to hurt people, Jon would choose to kill them, whereas Clary & Co would try to help them. He still has to unlearn the rac/ism against Downworlders Valentine nurtured in him. He still has to learn how to take and deal with rejection in a way that doesn’t completely destroy him. There are just so many aspects to this scenario & that’s why I love it so much!!

I AM SO SORRY about how long this turned out, and you didn’t even ask for ANY OF THIS *hides, ashamed*

Thank you again for your message & your kind words. I currently also really love the hooker AU and the a/b/o AU, so I’ll hopefully get to continuing those soon c:I have a drabble planned for the hooker AU in which I’ll write about the first time Jace took money for se/x, if you’re interested in that.Unrelated, Andy & I also talked about a short drabble based on ‘The Other Side’ by Ruelle, so if you enjoy having your heart broken, you have that to look forward to.

Sorry, sorry, sorry.:*

#( ooc asks. ) #HERE GOES NOTHING #sebastian morgenstern #malikaesthetics #( saved. )