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Women I’m so terribly in love with.

 Jessica Lucas

2. Emmanuelle Beart 

3. Emeraude Toubia

beauty.

here with you ; ellie williams. (4.5k.)

⤿ f!reader, college!au, drinking + kissing, fluff fluff fluff <3 lowercase is on purpose , was blasting ceilings by lizzy so excuse the title

⤿ you're invited to another one of dina's off-campus parties not long after finals, where you meet a pretty girl who miraculously knows your name. away from the hustle of the actual party, where people are plastered out of their minds and making a ruckus, you and this pretty stranger get to know each other a little and earn yourselves a place in the other's heart.

“if you want anything just let me know, okay?” 

dina’s hand is warm, splayed across your lower back as she guides you away from what had to be the noisiest place at the party. it’s no surprise she attracts such diverse groups of people, given her gregarious personality and hard-to-overlook kind of beauty.

you would be lying if you said you hadn’t had a crush on her when you first met her; it’s dina, how could you not? thankfully, over maybe a year of getting to know her, you realized she wasn’t exactly your type and that she was far too head-over-heels for her on-and-off partner to even think about you. honestly, she never shut up about the guy.

“got it. thanks, dina.”

you definitely were not going to mention the almost completely assured possibility that you wouldn’t see her at all for the rest of the night. thing is, when you’re the host of parties like these, you tend to get thrown around a lot. though she doesn’t really seem to mind, since this is, at the very least, the fourth party you’ve been invited to since finals ended (which was around a month ago).

she hums passively at the acknowledgement, then gestures fluidly towards the rest of the room. there are a few people situated on her couch, a couple of them already putting on a show for the others while a few sit alone, sipping their drinks with reckless abandon. you’ve never gotten completely plastered at one of dina’s parties, always the type to stay back and help her clean up if she hasn’t passed out or gotten herself sick, but unsurprisingly, there are always those who’ll take any chance they can get.

“mi casa, su casa.” she sings, then she’s gone. 

left alone, you can handle yourself. why the hell would you come here if you couldn’t? you head towards what you remember to be the kitchen, but right now looks like a completely unprofessional bar complete with its own bartender—who you belatedly recognize to be jesse, dina’s on-and-off partner—in search of booze. 

said bartender nods at you when you catch his eye, pouring whatever’s on the table for tonight into a very typically red party cup—on the house, since you get special privilege—and sliding it over to the edge of the counter. whatever’s inside sloshes dangerously, threatening a mess which’d only add to the ugly stickiness of dina’s countertops, but you grab and take a whiff of it before it can tip over. 

“what, don’t trust me?” jesse ribs over the music—he speaks of your tentative sniff—, which is, as you’ve just realized, getting progressively louder. 

“if i say anything,” you mutter, which gets you his typical jesus christ, these people, kind of laugh and he leans back against the counter, right next to you. 

head crooked to the side slightly, you look him over. objectively, you can see why he and dina mesh so well; they’re both unbelievably attractive and complement each other’s personalities perfectly (from what you’ve seen, at the very least). their pretty much daily arguments aside, you can tell they love each other and only want the best for one another. that said, you can only imagine what’s running through his head right now.

“she’s not going to get shit-faced drunk,” he mutters, and that’s your cue to leave. you know he’s trying to console himself more than anything.

“no, she’s not.”, you respond in kind, patting his shoulder with just as much care as one would handle a two-hundred-pound gorilla, before pushing yourself up off the edge of the counter and walking out of the kitchen. god knows he could spend an hour sitting there talking about her; you’ve had enough of that for, quite literally, the rest of your life. 

the sole of your left shoe sticks to the ground a little as you walk, and you thank your past self for owning a strictly-for-parties pair of converse which were, sadly, a little too worn in for your own good. sneaking a glance into the main hall, you catch a glimpse of your best friend seated halfway up the stairs chatting with someone—maybe a senior? junior, at the very least—who’s got a guitar case slung over her shoulder and the most unruly head of short, auburn hair you’ve ever seen. 

dina’s gesturing wildly at the front door, likely having gotten into an argument with said stranger (except it looks far too fond to be serious), when the two of you make eye contact. her eyes are a strikingly pale kind of green, piercing through whatever weak defenses you’d put up for the night in a very relaxed fashion. she’s got this look on her face that screams uninterested, which is quickly swapped out for a look of rapt attention at your own once she realizes you don’t actually plan on looking away. 

because man, she’s hot.

it’s just then that a presumably tanked freshman crashes into you and spills the contents of whatever it is they were drinking all over you, effectively shattering whatever that was. really, you would be grateful for it—something to spare you the embarrassment of looking too interested in someone way out of your league—had there not been the undeniable presence of cool, once-iced liquor spilling down the front of your printed tee. 

“oh, fuck,” you curse, nearly missing their hurried apology before they barrel out the front door.

this wouldn’t be the first time. you sigh, reluctantly slipping away from all the noise, away from the pretty stranger, to deal with your problem. usually, you’d have an extra top shoved haphazardly into dina’s closet, something you could throw on in the worst-case scenario, but laundry day was just yesterday and all of your stuff was piled on your bed back home. already you could feel the liquor causing the shirt’s fabric to stick, leaving an icky, gross feeling that was begging to be cleaned up. the humidity from everyone’s breathing was not helping.

you set your cup down on a random table (never to be seen again) as you make your way to the bathroom. you wouldn’t be surprised to find the door locked, having been an unsuspecting party crasher one too many times in your first and some of your second year, but luckily the room’s unoccupied—not for long—and you slip in and lock the door behind you after waving off a concerned glance from jesse, who’s very slowly making his way to his girlfriend. no surprise there. 

“oookay, fuck.” you curse, flipping the light switch and nabbing a couple (a lot) of the mini towels out of dina’s probably way-too-expensive towel rack and pressing them to your front, hoping they’ll soak up some of the leftover moisture, at least save you from the mortification of showcasing to everyone your chest and abdomen.

it doesn’t really help.

again, not an irregular occurrence, so you’re not too worried; dina’s typical party etiquette has ensured that everyone here will leave you be and mind their own business. that doesn’t help your pride, but you concede to stepping back out and flipping the light switch off behind you as you make your way to the front.

this time, when you cross the main hall, dina’s gone and so is her friend. accompanying disappointment comes the ponderance of whether jesse found dina or not and if the pretty stranger has left, but you remind yourself you’ll find out later—probably near midnight when people start to filter out for the night and you’re tasked with cleaning up—, however frustrated that makes you, given the fact you’d lost a chance you probably never had in the first place. 

you pass a group of what look like sophomores playing beer pong against seniors—or maybe even graduates?—on your way out, and silently curse the growing pool of booze dripping on the floor right next to the table on your way outside.

the door is wide open, so being engulfed in cold air on your way outside is no surprise. luckily, the weather is calming down a little after a gruelling winter, so there’re only a couple of piles of leftover snow and the breeze doesn’t serve as an immediate freezer. however, your damp tee is anything but a savior and causes an eruption of a ton of goosebumps across the pane of your chest, stretching as far as your shoulders, which are only covered by the loose fabric of your top.

you’re not sure what you expect to see when you turn the corner to dina’s garage, but seeing her and her boyfriend sucking face is absolutely not it. dina’s got him pressed right up against the garage door, and you’re pretty sure that if jesse weren’t sober out of his mind he’d be giving into every single one of her wordless demands.

you slip past easily, far away enough to go by soundlessly and completely bypass the two’s freaky-ass sixth sense. the back gate is just as well-managed as the rest of the house and opens quietly, in no contrast to the backyard itself, which is empty and well-kempt. you know only you and a select few people are actually allowed into dina and her parents’ pretty backyard, so peace is expected and welcomed. the breeze is also blocked by the house, which is nice.

there are a couple of flowers blooming already, and their scent wafts through the air, bringing a natural sort of calm. the yard is illuminated by the house—light dances in beautiful patterns against the greens and greys that make up the garden—, but so is the relaxed silhouette of the same pretty stranger you saw less than ten minutes ago. this time, she’s hunched over in one of dina’s ugly bright-green lawn chairs with a guitar seated in her lap.

you consider her privacy and the fact that maybe she doesn’t want company right now or that she’s too busy with her music as you make your way over—aside from those ugly lawn chairs, really, there’s nowhere else to sit—but then banish your hesitancy with the acknowledgement that this is just as much a space for you as it is for her. 

the chair scrapes against the patio as you pull it out, just far away enough from the brunette to make yourself seem open and friendly, but respectful of her space. you worry the cheap plastic is going to snap beneath your weight as you sit down, but it holds well and serves as a final, much-needed resting spot for your already sore feet. once your rustling stops, you hear the gentle strum of a guitar and realize the girl hasn’t stopped playing.

you relax further into your seat. 

closer up now, you have the chance to really look at her. her hair’s pulled back now, half-up half-down, a lot less dishevelled than she’d been when you’d last seen her. 

looking lower, she’s wearing a low-cut short-sleeve and an unbuttoned flannel long-sleeve. skin-tight, ripped jeans line what look like toned thighs and spread legs, stained black and white converse completing the look. her fingers move deftly between frets, over strings, and you just barely catch the edges of a black and white tattoo peeking out from beneath her sleeve. she’s got really nice hands, you think, just as pretty as her face.

“i can feel you fuckin’ staring.” 

her tone is accusing, but not necessarily malicious or irritated; she doesn’t even look up at you when she says it, adjusting her guitar in her lap as she works at whatever she’s trying to play. her voice suits her, too, you think, and shift a little where you sit at the thought. 

“sorry. you’re really good at guitar.” you mutter, earning an amused chortle from the girl across from you. it’s a pathetic excuse—you’re well aware of your own unsubtlety—but there was something there, something between you two, not long ago, and you’re not just going to let it slip away. the alcohol’s got you pleasantly buzzed, and you’re sure that if you were a little soberer, you’d be embarrassed. 

“you think so?” 

she looks up now, a brow raised. you catch the slit in her right eyebrow, cocked slightly as her gaze rakes over you. she’s got this lilt to her voice that feels like it means trouble, however, it does nothing but pique your interest a little more. 

your response of “mhm. you play real nice.” earns you another glance over.

“i’ve seen you around a couple times. you’re a friend of dina’s, right?” she questions, looking between you and her instrument as she tunes what she seems to think is an out-of-tune string. her leg—the one which has the least contact with her guitar—bounces gently against the patio floor, and it takes you a second to realize she’s seen you around before and remembers you.

“yeah. best friend? i think? she likes to call it that.”, you joke, shoulders trembling slightly at the very unwelcome entrance of another breeze, carrying in the temperature from the front into the back. the sound of the stranger’s laugh is already addicting, especially when it feels genuine. that’s sometimes hard to come across, and you’re already starved for it even though you’ve been speaking to this girl for like, a minute.

“i’ll tell her you said that. shouldn’t she have an extra top for you or something?” 

“she does, usually. kinda forgot to leave a couple here.” you hum, pointedly ignoring the third glance over the girl’s given you since she’d first laid her eyes on you. her lips are pursed slightly, gaze trained wholly on your face whenever you speak yet it wanders when silence stretches between you two. her eyes are locked on something behind your head when she speaks again.

“are you two a..?” 

“thing? no, have you met jesse?”

“dina’s got a ton of other people that aren’t jesse, babe.”

your cheeks warm at the pet name, and you realize she’s right. dina’s had a couple of other flings outside of jesse; every time the two of them break up, she runs off to someone else before realizing she doesn’t want anyone but him. then, suddenly, without your permission, your mind wanders at the idea of someone wanting you the same way those two want each other. 

“no, we’re not,” you shake your head as she looks back at you. briefly, so momentarily, you question whether she actually likes girls or not—and if it seems like you do—so add a quick and easy-sounding, “think i liked her a year or so back, though.”

the stranger nods, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact that you don’t know her name. 

caught in your own head, you don’t register her leaning back in her seat, guitar following her movements, pressed right up against her abdomen. you do though, notice her shrugging her long sleeve off and balling it up in her free hand before it's carelessly thrown your way. your rapt attention towards her movement is pretty much the only reason you were able to catch it; it’s warm from her own body heat in your cold hands. it’s pretty obvious what she wants you to do with it, but you wouldn’t want to impose so you just stare at it.

“put on the damn sweater. it’s cold.”, she mutters, and you can’t help but bite back a smile at her tone; what was likely intended to come across as gruff and demanding sounds pleading and mildly concerned. you unravel the garment and pull your arms through the sleeves, a clean, earthy scent enveloping your once-shivering form.

“thanks, uh..”

“ellie. williams. ellie williams.” she stutters out, which is pretty cute.

“ellie. thank you.” 

that only gets you a grumble of acknowledgement before she’s back to her guitar. strands of her hair are slowly slipping out of her half-updo, and it only makes her that much more alluring. you’re well aware of the fact that you’re staring again, but she doesn’t seem to mind all that much as she starts up another tune. this one sounds far too smooth, too practiced to be something she even needs to go over, and belatedly you wonder if she’s trying to impress you. 

you two sit together quietly for god knows how long, accustoming yourselves to the other’s presence with ellie’s music writing over any awkward silence, and you drown in the admission that you could sit like this forever. the party inside is dying down, with a good chunk of attendees deciding to turn in early while the rest are either still on adrenaline highs or settling down for a couple of drinking games. 

“where’d you learn how to play?” 

you find yourself speaking before you can even think about it, and she doesn’t give you room to regret the interruption with the soft, loving little smile that breaks out on her face when she considers your question.

“old guy. his name’s joel.” 

you can’t help but smile at that; whatever harsh exterior she’s going for really isn’t working for her right now. almost every time she’s spoken to you, it’s either been with a smile, a laugh, or some poorly-concealed interest. joel, you think, taking that name and storing it for later, if there ever is a later with this girl. ellie.

“his guitar, then.” you hum, because it can’t be that much of a secret if a signature that deeply resembles his name is etched into a spot just above the pickguard. “you mind teaching me someday?”, you add, because there won’t ever be a moment where you don’t want to be talking to ellie; what you aren’t expecting is for her to look up at you with the same fond look that she’d looked at her guitar with just moments before, and nod. christ, you think, she’s so..

“we can start today, if you wanna.” she offers, and you try your very best not to seem too eager when you say yeah, for sure, but realize you’ve failed and that the pretty stranger–pretty girl sitting across from you doesn’t really care. she’s taking her guitar off her lap and making her way over to you before you can even second-guess yourself, crouching in front of you and raising an inquisitive eyebrow on her undeniably attractive, stupid fucking face.

you kind of want to kiss her.

you’re already imagining a future where you and ellie are, at the very least, friends—if not more, but you don’t want to get your hopes up—and are out like this every day, hanging out, being comfortable in each other’s presence because there’s no way this feeling of security is normal with someone you’ve just met unless you’re soulmates of some kind.

ellie makes a gesture, lifts her arms as a means of telling you to lift your own, and you swear its the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. you lift yours and her hand snakes its way forward, pressing against your right shoulder so you’ll lean back a little. she’s strong, you can tell that much—as if the muscle lining every inch of her visible skin wasn’t enough—, and her touch is searing hot, leaving fire in its wake. 

she sets the guitar in your lap, spreads your legs gently by the knees, and waits expectantly with her hands out for you to offer up your own. you find yourself staring as she takes your hands, lithe, strong fingers beneath your own, lips parted slightly in both concentration and excitement as she positions your left hand under the neck, fingers splayed just slightly against the frets. she realizes you already have your other arm around the body, but reaches over to ghost her fingertips against the skin of your elbow anyways. 

she smiles. “try it. use your thumb. don’t break my guitar.”

the look you give her prompts another huff of laughter, but she seems to have enough faith in you to believe you won’t. it doesn’t seem like she plans on moving, though, since she’s still crouched in front of you and when you mutter a retributive “it’s joel’s,”, the pretty girl in front of you leans forward and rests her open palms on your knees, effectively cutting off any sly remarks.

you’re probably never going to forget the way her eyes light up when you strum it the first time, and use your very limited guitar-playing knowledge to press against a couple of the frets in succession and play what sounds like a semi-well-practiced harmony.

“holy shit,” she breathes, and you find yourself feeling bashful regardless of the fact you were only, like, thirty percent sure you could pull that off again. however, you manage to contain any sighs of relief and only exhale a chuckle in response. 

her eyes are still on you, you know, and you start absentmindedly fidgeting with the neck and its frets; her attention is everything you could’ve ever wanted, but her gaze is weighed and it’s making you feel a little self-conscious. you’re not starved for it by any means but it has been a while since someone has stared at you like this, awestruck out of their mind. it’s funny because for some reason ellie’s making this seem like such a huge deal when she’d spent the past, what—you’ve lost track of time—thirty minutes? an hour? playing a bunch of fucking songs on this old guy’s guitar, and—

“i had no idea you could play guitar..” 

her voice tears you out of your own head, and suddenly she’s closer to you than she has been all night. you lock eyes when she mutters your name, alarmed at the fact she knows it—you reason that she knows dina and you must’ve been mentioned in passing at least a couple of times—, and feel chills go down your spine, butterflies erupting in your stomach. i definitely want to kiss her.

“i can’t,” you huff, desperate to ease out the tension, “you outplay me by—”

“can i kiss you?”

her cut-off is abrupt and unexpected, and you swear your heart has never stopped like this. it’s such an innocent question, a plea of consent laced with insecurity, something the girl you’d seen in the main hall earlier into the night hadn’t even seemed like she possessed, but it’s so inherently ellie you don’t know what to do with yourself. so you nod. a quick tilt to your chin, up and down; you can’t trust your voice to work well enough for a yes.

but ellie needs to hear it. 

“say yes. i gotta hear you say it.”

you stare at her, and she stares back. the need to actually kiss her is growing unbearable now that you know she wants it too, but the mortification of knowing this pretty girl could hear the desperation in your voice—you haven’t even tuned into the fact that she sounds just as desperate as you—, the hitch of your breathing if you were to say yes, makes it hard to voice what you want.

so you don’t. she’s close enough, hands having slid upwards, her sweaty palms against your thighs in a subconsciously innocent gesture; any stray hair’s been tucked messily behind her ear, her lips are a little chapped and you see her throat constrict in a swallow when you reach forward with your right hand and thread your fingertips through the hair at the base of her neck.

and when you lean forward—as much as you can, with the guitar situated between the two of you—, ellie meets you halfway, semi-pulled in by your touch and mostly leaned in of her own accord. 

it’s a kiss. just that, a gentle press of the lips, but the glorification fiction has given it hasn’t been for nothing. maybe it’s just because it wasn’t with the right person, but you’re far from unfamiliar with it and it’s never felt like this. ellie kisses like she never wants to stop and you’re not complaining. you feel her grip tighten around your thighs, and you’re already running out of air even though you’ve only been doing this for a couple seconds. when you part, it’s with an unspoken promise of more.

“i’ve seen you around,” ellie starts, whispering against your lips. it sounds like a confession, something she needs to get off her chest, so you urge her to continue with your silence and the gentle circling of your thumb against her scalp. “with dina. or jesse. on campus. during those stupid presentations. or the social events. and i’ve always wanted to talk to you, you know? especially that one time, when you,” she inhales, smoothing her hands out against your legs. “when you corrected jesse on a fucking dinosaur name at the group’s museum outing.”

you stare at her, shuffling through images of every event you’ve ever gone to for dina’s sake when it hits you. a couple months back, before finals, probably when dina and jesse had gotten back together after a huge blowup, she’d found some stupid exhibit at a museum close to campus and presented it to you. she’d asked if you thought it was a good deal, especially because her friend, ellie, liked dinosaurs, and fuck, what is wrong with you?

“shit, you remember that?”

her silence is enough of an answer, gaze flitting between your eyes and lips nervously. 

“oh my god,” you exhale, keeping her still with the hand you have around her neck as you press your foreheads together. to think, if you’d been a little less ignorant at the time, you could’ve already known ellie. the two of you could have been friends, possibly more—which now, doesn’t seem all that ridiculous—, had you tuned in a little more to what dina was saying, had paid more attention to the rest of dina’s group when you’d gone out with her, had asked simply, back then, who’s ellie?

“is that weird? tell me that’s not weird. i kinda feel like a creep now, fuck. i swear i wasn’t, like, stalking you or anything,” ellie starts rambling, something you doubt you’ll ever get tired of. 

“you said you’ve seen me around a couple times. are you a creep?”, you tease.

“no! i mean, no. i just kinda, i only heard about you and saw you that time, and, shit–” 

you smile at her, let her go on as you lean further over the guitar, left hand reaching out to tuck a couple strands of her unruly hair behind her right ear, effectively cutting her off without saying a word. this awestruck look on her face is something you really, really want to get used to, and the feeling of her breath ghosting over your lips is far more welcome than anything else will ever be. 

“god, i wanna kiss you again.”

“do it.” you hum, and then ellie’s lips are on yours again and you swear this pretty stranger with the auburn hair is going to be the death of you.

Barry Keoghan Masterlist

here you'll find a collection of all my fics for Barry Keoghan and his characters ♡

B A R R Y K E O G H A N 

cleaning up boxer!Barry & boxer!Druig after a fight…

falling for the medic at the gym…

Boxer!Druig x Boxer!Reader

Turtlenecks

i’ve been wanting to kiss you for quite a while (boxer!barry)

is that my shirt? (boxer!barry)

D R U I G 

lavandula stoechas

more than kisses, letters mingle souls

Interview (SMUT, boxer!druig)

getting into a fight with ikaris

Spring Flowers

Do I Make You Nervous?

there’s glitter on the floor after the party…

tattoo.

Sprite creates an illusion of Ajak for you wedding day

Leather Jacket

I Like Tradition

don’t be n love with someone else…

Snacks

Confessions in the Garden

The Eternal and the Princesss

Taking Care of Druig When He’s Sick

Eros Flirts with the Wrong Eternal

Holy Orange Bottles (angst)

Go Alone

Kingdom Dance

Your First Kiss With Druig Would Include (gn!reader)

I Promise

A More Beautiful Bride

Don’t Blame Me (minor blood, violence)

Envious

Annual Cleaning

Team Effort

In the Eyes of Men

He Can’t Cook

Your Eyes…

Getting into a Fight with Druig Would Include

Fake Flowers

Druig Defending You in a Bar Headcanons

messy kisses, destroying furniture trying to reach the bed with druig (smut)

“kisses in which ‘i’ll kiss you right now to prove i don’t feel anything for you.’‘ but kissing each other, they prove the exact opposite”

breaking the kiss but instantly pressing your lips back together

making out in the hallway

kisses in which, i can’t believe this is real, but i love you so much

“trying to concentrate on a task, but your lover’s kissing your neck, making your head spin”

“Stop trying to get me under the mistletoe”

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

“that should be our Christmas card this year”

“You look so beautiful in the snow.”

Ikaris hits on Druig’s girl 

you’ve found your handsome prince… except, your problems haven’t disappeared and you don’t truly feel happy

“i know i’m being ridiculous but you ensure me my feelings are valid”

“kissing me good night when you find me asleep in bed, thinking you can sneak past me but with one eye open i pull you into bed, wrapping my hands are you”

“comparing hand sizes and intertwining fingers because you’re adorable and we’re a pretty perfect for each other”

“You’ve been talking on and on about how much you want this specific object, and one day i’m at the store and they’re selling it and i don’t think twice about buying it”

“a hug for when you’re breaking down in my arms, and i wish i could take your pain away because seeing you this upset hurts so goddamn much” (violence, blood)

“cuddling in bed is making the both of us feel safe and loved”

you’re tying my necklace as i look into a mirror and woah, have you always looked that hot? you’re behind me and your breath’s warm on my neck and i can't—

“decorated halls; differing depending on what type of dance it is” | “you looked miserable so i asked you for a dance and we’ve been dancing ever since”

“you and your friend are learning how to dance and are frequently paired up. the close proximity is really doing something to you”

D A D! D R U I G  

dad!druig masterlist

D Y M P N A D E V E R S

Balcony

Run

Dympna having a spit kink (SMUT)

I’m so drunk right now

Secret Valentine

OKAY SO I GOT THIS REQUEST — former!ellie x reader, current!abby x reader; based on the song Left For Dead by Kiki Rockwell, specifically the part “my lover left me for dead, my pretty little body keeps the wolves fed.” The lover being Ellie and the wolves (obviously) being Abby😫 just a bunch of angst and smut (if possible😗). Where Ellie chooses Dina over r in a life or death situation and like Abby (coincidentally) finds R half dead from other humans and takes her back to her hideout or whatever and like nurses her back to health:) sorry it’s so long and it’s fine if you don’t want to, can just ignore this🫶🏼 luv u and your writing!!

a/n: Took me a long time to pick this one up, but here we go!

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 || 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

Inspo: Jacob Banks - Devil That I Know Kiki Rockwell - Left For Dead Max Richter - The Young Mariner

Pairing: Abby Anderson x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: Left for dead with a heart of love...

Warnings: Angsty as fuck with a large bit of torture

Part Two - Finale

Words: 4858

Ragged breaths filled the air of the small janitor’s closet. The surface of the workbench and small shelves holding cleaning chemicals are covered in dust. Dirty old rags on the ground. Some left previously, and new ones that had crimson seeped into the fabric. Pieces of medical tape were ripped and discarded along with the garments that had been torn to fashion some sort of bandage.

Your mouth was gagged by your shirt and jacket you bit down on. The soft cold breeze inside the room sent chills down your exposed stomach as you pressed the fabric from your shirt against the bullet wound. A groan fell from your lips as you ran a stripe of tape over the fabric, feeling extra pressure causing white hot pain to flash behind your eyes.

Pants fell from your lips as you released the articles of clothing from your mouth. A speckle of spit left on your lips as you blinked tiredly. “Fucking, Wolves.” Your soft hiss slipped from your lips as you grabbed your gun from beside you. Carefully, you sit up near the door and press your ear to the wood.

It’d only been minutes ago that you had been chased down. Left for dead by your now ex-girlfriend and friend, who you weren’t even sure made it out. If they did and if you made it out of here, you were going to kill them, literally. After saving their asses countless times back in Jackson, this is how they were going to repay you? Oh, yeah, you’re going to fucking gut the two of them.

But that would be the last thing you ever did as footsteps approached the closet. And before you could even respond, the door swung open. Light projected into the room, blinding you as you raised a hand to try and allow your eyes to adjust.

“I found the demon!” The person called as your brows furrowed together.

You crawled back, lifting your gun and aiming at the large figure before gunshots filled the air. The air lost in your lungs was regained with your gasping when seeing the Seraphites body thud against the ground. You kept to the corner of the room as a full-on firefight took place beyond the doorway. But with your mind still in a daze from your wound, you weren’t to put up a fight. Needing more rest than anything else.

It took a while but the gunfire soon seized to exist. Incoherent yells were heard outside as you blinked tiredly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you held your stomach. Footsteps approached, then stopped. “Manny, Mel, we have an outsider!”

Still, in a slight daze, you lifted your head. Your eyes shot wide as saucers as you made eye contact with her, Abby. The entire reason for you being out here and following Ellie to Seattle. Hell, in a way, Abby was the reason why she was bleeding to death in this janitor’s closet alone.

Two other figures, Mel and Manny you guessed came behind Abby. “You know the orders, Abs,” Manny stated, sending a knowing look to the muscular girl.

Their knowledgeable conversation left a horrible dread in your stomach. But you knew that if you put up a fight, you died. Even if you didn’t they would kill you nonetheless. And either way, you hadn’t killed someone before. You were out here to keep Dina and Ellie alive with your medical skills, not kill anyone.

So, it piqued the trio’s interest when you slid your gun their way. Staring down at the Baretta before back at you, finding you shaking your head. “Kill me if you have to,” you breathed. “I’ll put up less of a fight than Joel and Tommy did.”

With the mere mention of the two men, one she killed, Abby felt her chest tighten. “You’re from Jackson?” Abby asked, coming over and dropping to a knee beside you.

A shaky laugh fell from your lips. “Born and raised,” you said half-heartedly. “I shouldn’t even fuckin’ be here right now. Goddamnit, Ellie.” You muttered aloud, feeling Abby carefully lift the hem of your shirt to see your wound.

The bandage you had crafted had done very little to stop the blood flow. It caught a decent amount, restraining the slash of the blade performed by one of the cult members you ran into, but it wasn’t enough to hold everything else in. The cotton had become so damp that your blood began to slither past the bandage and down soaking into your pants and down your waistline.

“Is there anyone else with you?” Mel asked, coming to join your side, shrugging off her backpack and beginning to take out a medical kit.

Manny, who seemed confused by the two girls helping you, said, “Guys, Issac told us to deal with any Outsiders if we encounter them-”

“Manny, shut up for a second, alright?” Abby interjected, silencing him. He pursed his lips, turning towards the door to keep watch.

“There were people with me, but they left me for dead,” you answered the doctor’s question. “I thought I killed one of your people, but I don’t even know who the fuck is out there. I mean, I can’t kill anyone - I’ve never killed anyone - and it was just in the heat of the moment and I- I-”

Your rambling was stopped by Abby, who placed a hand on your shoulder. The touch made you flinch away, mind still conscious of the fact that this was the same girl that killed your mentor. A man who had cared for you and saved your life a handful of times. And you should be exacting the revenge you sought out here to do. To get payback, but truthfully, you were more inclined to not do it in spite of Ellie.

But you knew Joel wouldn’t you risking your life for something he caused to save Ellie. Unlike your ex, you weren’t clouded in rage. Sure, you were angry that you lost someone close to you, but that was the way of life. You mourn them and then you have to carry on. Nothing more than that. And Joel would’ve wanted you to have a healthy and careful life.

When Mel began to apply a new bandage, you cried out. Hand flying to Abby’s arm where you held on for dear life. Head thrown back against the wall as your face scrunched up in pain. “There others here, in Seattle,” you told them, trying to distract your mind from the pain surrounding your abdomen. “I don’t know where they are now. But your friend, the guy with the scar across his face and Leah, they’re both dead.”

The trio looked at you, shock evident in their eyes as you stared at them uneasily. “Leah was killed by those cultists and Ellie… she killed the other guy when he had a bag over my head,” you said. “If I could, I would’ve saved him and talked to him civilly. But my girlfriend was more inclined to make fun of him. I’m sorry.”

“What’s your name?” Abby asked, changing the subject purposefully. Although it surprised you, you cleared your throat with a groan.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/L/N,” You answered.

She nodded. “Well, Y/n, we’re going to get you proper medical treatment,” she told you. “Can you walk?”

You pursed your lips in doubt, and she opted to just lift you up, arm under your knees and the other around your lower back. A squeak falls from your lips with your arms wrapping around her neck. Tucking your face in her shoulder to hide the evidence of pain on your face. Abby successfully got you out of the janitor’s closet of a school that Ellie and Dina left you some time ago. Leg’s still aching from the debris that had prevented you from following the pair in a classroom somewhere down the hall. That and the door Ellie had consciously blocked with a desk, leaving you inside with a Clicker.

Stepping outside, you were quick to spot the truck that had a dog inside, sitting and waiting patiently. “Wait. Wait, a sec.” Abby stopped at your request, looking down at you in question. You bit your bottom lip, looking at her and the truck and shaking her head. “If Ellie finds me with you, she’s going to kill us. Maybe you should leave me here or something. I promise you, I’ll be out of Seattle before you know it. I don’t want to be locked up in a cage or killed by-”

“You’re coming with us.” The soft, yet, the unwavering firm tone in Abby’s lips silenced you. Lowering your head as Mel popped open the hitch and helped Abby pull you inside. “Manny, drive us back to the stadium. Mel and I will see how we can help, Y/n.”

“Abby, Issac’s going to kill us for bringing an outsider back-”

“Manny, just fucking drive,” Abby ordered. “At most, he’ll question her about the people that she was with.” The Hispanic man pursed his lips, cursing quietly before hopping into the truck and starting it. Leaving Abby to close the hatch and crouch by your side with Mel on the opposite side.

Retrieving items from her bag, Mel pulled out a set of bandages. “I’m just gonna replace the one you made so we can stop you from losing any more blood,” she explained. “When we get back to the base, I’ll clean the wound and stitch you up.”

Although the idea sounded great, you shook your head. “We need to disinfect it now,” you told her. “In my pack are a few bottles of Vodka. We can use that as an antiseptic until we get to your base.”

“You’re a doctor?” Mel inquired, eyes slightly widened in surprise.

You nodded. “Learned enough to know how to patch me or others up,” you explained. “Father taught me.”

Grabbing your bag, Mel grabbed one of the bottles you spoke of and took off the lid. “This is going to hurt like a motherfucker.”

“Oh, I know,” you chuckled, teeth slightly gritting in anticipation. “Let’s just get it over with.”

There seemed to be a pause where you built up the preparation in your mind and Mel tried to find confidence in doing the action. But those milliseconds didn’t carry on for too long before you were screaming in agony. Head slamming against the truck bed, nails creating crescent moons in your palm. You hadn’t even realized the sudden flailing of your arms and legs.

“Abby, hold her down!” The taller girl did as told, placing her hands firmly on your shoulders as you cried. When the stream of the intoxicating liquid seized, you were painted on the pale side of the visual. Mel quickly worked to bandage the wound and Abby tried to keep you at ease and not throw up anywhere or pass out.

Which was fruitless when you let out a sigh before your eyes fluttered shut from exhaustion. Abby clenched her teeth as she sat on the side benches along the edge of the truck bed. “Her body is just tired and in pain, Abs,” Mel stated. “But you need to know that Manny is right. Once I patch her up, Issac is just going to put her in a cage and torture her for information.”

“I know.” Abby ran a hand down her face, unable to retract her gaze from your sleeping features. So at peace and finally calm after all the bullshit you had been through. Truthfully, she had no reason to believe you and she didn’t, but she did believe you when you said you shouldn’t be out here. You were smaller in frame and height than Mel. Standing at full height, you were around Abby’s bicep and you didn’t have any defining muscle on you that screamed power in any fight. And that fact that you hadn’t killed anyone and were out here chasing after her showed that you were mentally strong. She just didn’t know if that would be able to carry on when Issac got his hands on you.

A groan shook at the back of your throat as you stirred awake. Face wincing in pain as your body ached and wished for you to rest for longer. Attempting to move your arms resulted in the harsh burn of something around your wrists. Eyes flickering open to find yourself in the center of a poorly lit room. An old fashion torch lamp was set on a few crates near a window that was blocked out by the sun by some white curtains.

Looking down at herself, she found herself in her old pair of dirty jeans with the same shirt on. But her wrists and ankles were tied together. Restrained to a chair with the harsh burn of rope being her reminder of defiance.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.” You watched with fearful eyes as the man stepped inside with a bottle of water. Shutting the door behind him and locking it before making his way over. Grabbing a discarded chair and dragging it towards you. The sound of the hind legs scratching across the ground made you wince. Sitting in the chair opposite of you, the man took a seat and smiled. “Now, we can talk about why you’re in my city.”

Issac. That was who you guessed this guy to be. He didn’t seem like some middle-class wolf taking orders from a higher power. He maintained a level of intimidation that came off as something natural. The way he talked, walked and even looked. Nothing got past this man without his say-so. And telling by how he seemed already annoyed told you that you were suspect number one for some of his troops roaming the city were dying.

Sloshing the water bottle around in front of him, he silently held it toward you. Looking between the bottle and the man, you let out a strangled sigh through your nose and nodded. Twisting the cap off, he held the open end to your lips and tilted it back enough for you to take a sip. Parting when you felt the dryness of your throat subside.

“Now, tell me where you’re from, who you’re with and how many of you there are,” Issac said in his gruff voice. “If you don’t, I’ll make this helluva lot worse for you.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you let out a slow controlled breath. “I’m from Jackson,” you started. “Came here by myself when I ran away from home-”

A loud laugh fell from Issac’s lips as he shook his head, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. His dark eyes never strayed from your own. “Do I need to bring in my three soldiers that saved your life and ask them what you told them?” He asked, leaning his arms on his knees. “Or am I going to have to force the truth out of you?”

“I am telling you- MOTHERFUCKER!” You groaned eyes clamped shut at the feeling of a blade stabbed into your thigh. If he had stabbed any higher, he might’ve hit your femoral artery, but this would be easy to patch up. Of course, that’s if you survived past Issac’s torture.

“Y/n.” The use of your name on the man’s tongue was vile. It left a shiver running down your body as your eyes opened to find the man staring at your pained expression intently. “Your girlfriend left you for dead, right?” You let out a shaky exhale, tears brimming in your eyes with your lips pursing. The man frowned, shaking his head slightly as he asked, “So, why the fuck are you protecting her?”

Your lips wobbled, eyes flickering shut with your hands clenching. Breaths began to be choked up as you shook your head. Letting out a quiet cry at the thought of the auburn-haired girl. The girl that saved you from Clickers on a patrol run. The girl that had promised to keep you safe and one day, have a family with you.

Where was that now?

Where was she?

Hadn’t you risked enough coming out here with her and Dina? You lied to your father and left Jackson, your home. You’d given every waking moment of your time to this girl for the past 5 years, and this was how you were repaid. Being tortured for actions that you hadn’t condoned or acted upon. All you wanted was to keep her safe, but she must’ve not wanted the same as you.

With tear-soaked cheeks, you lifted your chin and shook your head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you wept. “I came here alone and sought out Abby for killing-”

Your scream was muffled by the door that was dividing Abby from you. Her face scrunched up in aggravation. How could you be so loyal to someone who left you for dead? She couldn’t wrap her head around it because you shouldn’t be putting yourself in your girlfriend's place. Issac had promised Abby that he would allow you to rest before eventually sending you on your way, but that had been if you would tell the truth. Yet, you were putting up a useless fight for someone who wasn’t coming to save you.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as Issac coursed the knife down your forearm. Red breaching through the crack of your flesh and staining your pale flesh. Body trembling in the hot restraints of the rope that strained against your clenching limbs. Feeling the mounting pain to fizzle to a gentle stream of stinging when Issac pulled the blade from your flesh. Sitting back in his chair to take in your dishevelled and broken figure. From his doing, cuts were inflicted along your arms, legs, and one along your cheek. The blood slithered down your skin and sunk into your clothes. Hair astray from his hands that grabbed locks when he cut your face. And your eyes were bloodshot from the tears that never seized to fall.

“I came here alone,” you said through sobs. “I sought out Abby for killing my mentor.”

Issac sighed, shaking his head in slight astonishment. “You’re resilient, I’ll give ya that.” He rose from his seat, water bottle in hand. “Fighting for someone that isn’t coming to save you. It takes guts and I respect that. Really, I do. But I wonder how long it’ll take until you realize that your girlfriend left you behind- No, keep your eyes open.” The man tapped your cheek, forcing your head up. Finding your eyes hollow of emotion as you stared back at him.

“She isn’t coming to save you, Y/n,” he said quietly. “Whatever you thought of your girlfriend was a lie and you need to realize that before you die for someone who didn’t give a shit about you.” Crouching down in front of you, the man took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “If you tell me the truth, I can guarantee you that your girlfriend will be brought to justice. I’ll make my men go out and find her. From there, you can do as you wish. Kill her, torture her- I don’t care. But I need the truth, Y/n.”

In a drowsy state, you managed to keep eye contact with the man. Licking your dry lips as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m from Jackson. I came here alone and sought out Abby for killing my mentor.”

All the man could do was stare at you, shell-shocked. You choked on your breaths, keeping the man’s gaze. A knock at the door grabbed your guys’ attention, seeing the door slightly open with Abby stepping inside. Her eyes focused on your dishevelled and broken form that was barely holding up. Eyes glossed over with tears as you broke the eye contact, bowing your head.

“I’m in the middle of something, Abby,” Issac grumbled. “Whatever you have to say is going to have to wait.”

“Issac, we both know she is going to keep this up until you kill her,” Abby protested. “If you aren’t going to do it, then let her recover. This isn’t getting us anywhere in finding her girlfriend.”

The man stared at you, taking in his soldier's words for a moment. Standing to his feet, placed the knife down on the chair and looked at Abby. “Keep her awake and give her this.” Placing the bottle in the girl’s hands, he walked out without another word. Leaving Abby to hold onto the bottle and stare at your figure that could be mistaken for dead if it wasn’t for your rising chest.

It was sad, honestly. How you could still hold love for someone that left you for dead was astonishing to Abby. Of course, she didn’t know your life story and she didn’t know shit about what you and your girlfriend had been through. But what she did know is that you weren’t made for this. You had skills that people dreamed of having, yet, you were out here hunting her for reasons that you may relate with, still didn’t change the fact that you weren’t built for surviving in the wild.

Walking over, Abby moved the knife, placing it in her lap as she sat down. Twisting the cap as she said, “Have some water.” You didn’t respond and you didn’t move. “Y/n, look at me.”

Still nothing. So, with a gentle hand, Abby grabbed your jaw and lifted your head. Finding your eyes heavy with exhaustion. Standing to her feet, Abby placed her thumb on your bottom lip and gently parted your lips. Realizing what she was doing, you willingly opened your mouth, allowing her to slowly pour the refreshing drink into your mouth.

Although she was your enemy, her touch was warm and soft. Treating you like a fragile ornament that could break with the faintest amount of squeeze. She cared. Her eyes watched you softly with the faintest hint of darkness that you couldn’t distinguish. She was worried. It was all that you had hoped to find from Ellie right about now, but you were receiving it from the woman you had been told was a monster. A woman who killed a man you deeply cared about. Who was she, truly?

Greedily drinking all of the water, Abby pulled away, placing the bottle on the floor. Taking a seat, Abby leaned back in the chair, eyes intently taking in your sorrowful expression. “I can’t understand you.” Her words made you raise your bloodshot eyes to her in question. Abby groaned, leaning her elbows onto her knees, closing the space between the two of you a little more. “How can you still love her after what she did to you?”

You bit your bottom lip, breaking eye contact and looking down at your legs. The steady ache from the stab wound had numbed to a point as long as you didn’t move the limb, you could forget it. But you couldn’t forget the wound so freshly cut into your mind. One that seemed to come up every single time Issac questioned you about your reason for being in Seattle.

“She changed me,” you finally answered, breaking the silence. “It’s something I can’t repay, but I thought… I thought that if I did everything to save her from trouble, maybe it would be enough.” You chewed on your bottom lip, shaking your head in thought. “I just can’t believe she would leave me behind. I can’t.”

Sniffling, you looked up at Abby. “That doesn’t make me foolish, okay?” You defended. “Ellie won’t leave me. She loves me. She loves me more than killing you, alright?” Exhaling deeply, you shook your head. “So, please. Just… Just let me go. I’ll convince her to go back and we’ll leave. She needs to know I’m ok.”

Abby stared at you sadly, pursing her lips at your denial. It was hard to hear that you, so pure of heart, wanting to do everything you could to support someone, were so clueless to signs of your fate. Ellie wouldn’t stop. You and Abby knew that. But you were too caught up in love to realize the pain you were trying to protect yourself from. Bargaining for something that wouldn’t come true.

Then it popped into her head, why would someone hurt you this bad? Or, how could someone hurt you this bad? It was damn near soulless the way Ellie had been able to inflict this much pain in one action in seconds. No verbal response, just a single action.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” Abby whispered, piquing your interest. “I’m sorry for what I took from you.”

You frowned, staring at the girl in question. “What do you mean?”

“Joel,” she answered, making your expression lower into sadness. Abby ran a hand down her face, shifting forward slightly. “If I didn’t do what I did, maybe things would be better for you. You wouldn’t be here and dealing with what you’re dealing with.”

A faint tremble of your lips could be seen as you glanced up at her for a split moment before looking down. Letting out a shaky sigh and blinking away the fresh set of tears that were brewing in your eyes. Inhaling sharply as you bit the inside of your cheek. “Why did you do it, Abby?” You inquired quietly, looking up at the girl. Finding her expression shifted into one of regret as you shifted in your seat. “Abby, he was my mentor, a friend, the last person I got to call my father. He was one of the only people I had left, and you took him from me. So, please, I need to know why you took him from me if I can trust you.”

Abby let out a shaky breath. Hands clasping together as her lips parted. A fumbling of a sentence formed in her mind before she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Joel killed my father in Salt Lake,” she confessed. “I never got over it. I gathered information and searched for answers that could tell me where he was. So, when I found out he was in Jackson, I hunted him down with my group, and I killed him.”

Her confession left the room in a cold stillness as she waited for your response. So, she continued. “I hated him so much for what he took from me,” she muttered. “Finding my dad stabbed in the throat, having no chance to say goodbye or to give him a hug. Joel took that from me and I took that from you, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

Looking up, she found you staring down at her empathetically. “I’m sorry for your loss, Abby.” That was the last response she thought to receive. She’d taken so much from you, yet, you still had a softness in your heart that wasn’t afraid of being given out. “We’ve dealt with enough pain and I don’t want anymore. I just wanna go home with Ellie and be happy, you know?”

Falling to a knee, Abby grabbed your hands and held them softly. “You gotta listen to me, Y/n,” Abby said. “Ellie, she left you behind. As much as I don’t want to agree with Issac on this, he is right. If she loved you, she would’ve done anything to keep you safe and alive.”

A hard pill to swallow, that statement was. It felt like the imaginary knife Ellie had stabbed into was twisting further and further into your heart. Stealing whatever love that you had left for the girl and using it for her own personal gain. Because, in the end, that was the whole point of you coming. Getting guilt-tripped into seeking revenge for a man that only wanted the best for you. You didn’t even get to mourn his loss. You were just thrust into this quest that you wanted no part of. But your love for Ellie was something you couldn’t extinguish. It burned brighter than any flame imaginable.

And she used it against you.

Burning your heart and leaving a permanent scar that reminded you of how your trust could be twisted and forced against you in a selfish act.

“We were travelling with another woman- Dina,” you said out of the blue, making Abby frown. “I don’t know where they’re staying, but we were on our way looking for somewhere to set up camp until we found you.” Inhaling deeply, you closed your eyes. “She has a revolver, a Baretta, and a hunting rifle. Dina is pregnant, so if you go looking for them, don’t hurt her, please-”

“Y/n, you don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to.” Abby surprisingly placed a hand on your cheek. Her warmth and comfort were enough for you to lean into the touch. The cold pinch of your tears covered her palms as you opened your eyes.

Pursing your lips, a thin-lipped smile appeared as you shrugged. “What else do I gotta lose?”

ellie williams + abby anderson porn links

a/n: ive been meaning to do this for a whileee bc i have so many good links that remind me of them. i try my best to find videos w different complexions so they’re inclusive !! anywaaay enjoy!! i’ll update if i find any more good ones <3 minors and ageless blogs do not follow me or i will block u.

nsfw below the cut

ellie

her holding your panties to the side while you sit on her face with her arms wrapped around u, eating ur pussy

fingering your pussy, then slapping you and giving you a kiss after <3

her on top, grunting and moaning while dry humping ur pussies together

her slowly fucking u against the bed with her strap, shushing you and manhandling you into positions she wants

pounding into you with her strap from behind, smacking your ass and teasing you. “yea, you like that?”

more dry humping with ellie’s arms wrapped around u. lots of moaning and grunting while u bounce on each other so hard the bed can’t stop shaking <3

ellie on top, fucking against your pussy, completely clothed while you’re completely naked. lots of whiny moaning, with some dirty talk and tit slapping

abby

her behind you, clothed while you’re completely naked. feeling you up, groping and slapping your tits

sitting on her lap, while desperately riding her strap with your panties pulled to the side. lots of moaning and gasping into each others ears and praise from abby. “that’s my girl.”

her sitting on top of you with rubbing, spanking and fingering your pussy so hard u can’t stop squirming and whining

you on top, rubbing your pussy against abby’s, her tits bouncing while gasping and moaning underneath u.

her sitting behind you, your legs splayed open for her. one hand playing with ur pussy, the either choking u or on ur tits. she makes u squirt and rewards u with kisses after <3

“Depending on how you look at it, this could be psychological thriller, or you could say it has a romance aspect to it, or it could be horror. But above all else, when I could see this film from India’s perspective as a coming-of-age story of a girl, that’s when I felt that I could direct this film, that it became interesting to me… Rather than leaving her nest in search of a commendable, positive, beautiful set of values, India leaves as a devil, in search for evolution into being a complete evil incarnate. So in this respect, this is a completely subverted coming-of-age story.”  — Park Chan-wook, Stoker: A Filmmaker’s Journey

Endings.

I couldn’t love you more fiercely, even if I tried.

And my love, did I try.

I casted my cares to your passions.

I molded my mouth to yours.

& I did it all, while fear clung to my back-

Whispering to me, that it wasn’t enough;

Urging me for more and more.

I morphed my mind to your frequency.

I shaped my soul to your light.

I handled my heart to your beat.

All the while fear sat on my chest-

Made herself home;

Told me that it wasn’t enough,

I’d lost you forever.

My heart couldn’t break anymore than this.

Oxygen couldn’t make it through my lips

To give life to my mind.

To wonder where I went wrong;

Where did I lose you?

But all behind me was the pain of reality,

All I’d really lost was myself.

Piece by piece.

I couldn’t love you more fiercely even if I tried,

And my love, did I try.

Sacrificing myself all for you.

-alh.

Creating Mythology

                I’m headed back to my folklore roots this week and talking about creating your own myth for your worldbuilding!

                Mythology explains something otherwise unexplainable, whether that be a part of the world, a structure, or a part of the human experience. They are typically reflections of society in the time they were created that echo to the present--a foundation of a certain belief or custom. This can be a really intriguing way to bring readers into the history of your world—what will your myth say about the people of that time, what were they concerned about? What kinds of stories did they tell?

                Myths are just stories with a simple theme. Remember that this thing is supposed to have lasted across time—when you’re retelling a really old story, how many specific details do you actually remember? Don’t try to fool us with a story that’s too in-depth. Mythological stories are about mortality, or the nature of mankind, the afterlife, religion. A theme your myth may have is: “humans were born from the sea” or “all mankind was originally kind”.

                What does your myth explain about the world? Maybe it’s where humans came from, or where a certain religion, custom, ritual, or traditional practice originated, even where a revered creature originated, or where it went. If your world can’t explain something by science, the people in it would have tried to explain it through myth. What things need explaining?

                To make your myth believable (or, believable to the world it’s in) we want it to be distant in the past. Think thousands of years old, or at least, no one alive today knew anyone who lived through that time. I would say a good three or four generations old is a convincing minimum for time to have passed, but myths can be (and often are) as old as the beginning of humanity itself. As well, it may be difficult to pin down exactly what time a myth was created.

                Your myth should have characters—usually they’d be gods or beings with power over the world, but this isn’t necessary. Maybe your myth is about one really influential king, or just some person who caused a great deal of waves. Nevertheless, whoever they are, think of the impact time has over someone’s reputation. The older it is, the more revered these characters may be.

                Lastly, think about how your myth impacts the present. What has the past gifted? What has been lost?

Here’s a good resource: Creating a Myth: 7 Tips for Building a Richer World - TCK Publishing

                Good luck! Next we're covering legend and folklore <3

the gap between teenagers with absent father figure who read smut of their favorite men being hard doms and the adults who reach the stage of life where our mommy issues only allow us to consume submissive men to satisfy the horny hours