#[ it's so hard to start threads w/ kids ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seominis · 21 days ago

Text

birthday sex ! જ⁀➴ ♡

p.js ── nsfw fic ꕤ p. hard dom!jay x afab!reader, w. smut (18+ mdni!), oral sex (f. receiving), mirror sex, creampie, size kink, light degradation, ✿ giving jay the gift he will always accept, it’s you! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ not requested :3

to read all you have to do is click under the cut!, reminder, this fic contains nsfw content, and I don’t want anyone under 18, interacting ^^ please respect that hehe <33

he’s late. he told you he would be home before midnight, but jay had a few things to wrap up at the studio, and you didn’t mind waiting. not when the anticipation was this good.

you’ve been in your little surprise for nearly half an hour now: black heels, black lace panties, and a soft silk ribbon tied like a bow around your chest. a thin, sheer robe hangs open and useless at your sides. there’s music playing, his favorite playlist, dim lights, the smell of vanilla, and the second he walks in, you see his entire demeanor change.

jay’s eyes drop from your face to your chest, your thighs, then back up again, lips parting. he sets his bag down slowly. “you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“happy birthday,” you say sweetly, giving him a tiny spin. the ribbon bounces with your movement, threatening to come loose. “i hope you like your gift.”

he stares for a second longer, jaw tense, brows drawn together—then he laughs, low and breathless, running a hand over his face. “you wrapped yourself for me.”

you hum, pretending to pout. “only for you.”

“baby,” he breathes, stepping toward you. “do you know what you just started?”

you nod, letting your robe slip off your shoulders, hitting the floor. “thought maybe you’d unwrap me.”

“oh, i will.” his voice is deeper now, like gravel and heat. “but not before i taste you.”

he drops to his knees without warning and grabs your thighs, spreading them open as he looks up at you. “stay still.”

you brace against the wall, a hand threading into his hair as he tugs your panties aside. his breath ghosts over your core, and just the feeling of his mouth that close already makes your legs tremble.

then he licks one long stripe between your folds—slow and messy, savoring it.

“fuck,” he groans. “sweetest thing i’ve ever had.”

you whimper when his tongue finds your clit, soft and deliberate at first, then faster. his hands grip your ass, pulling you closer until you’re nearly riding his face. jay eats you out like he’s been starved, like you’re his only source of pleasure, and he needs every last drop.

“you were just standing here like this?” he asks against you, voice muffled. “waiting for me, soaking through these tiny panties?”

you nod, breath caught in your throat. “been thinking about you all night…”

“you filthy little thing,” he growls. “gonna make you cum so hard you forget your own name.”

you don’t last much longer. with one hand still in his hair and the other pressed against the wall, you cry out, legs shaking, hips jerking forward as you cum on his tongue. he drinks it all in, licking you through it until you’re whining from overstimulation.

then he stands.

“you look so fucked out already,” he murmurs, thumbing your lower lip. “and i haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

he undresses slowly, never looking away from you. and god—you’ll never get used to the size of him. thick, heavy, his cock flushed and leaking, and he’s not even touching it.

“want me to fuck my gift now?” he asks, voice like dark velvet.

you nod eagerly, lying back on the bed and opening your legs for him.

he slides the panties down your thighs, tosses them somewhere, and gets on top of you—pressing the head of his cock right at your entrance, teasing you. “say it.”

you whimper. “want you to fuck me. please.”

jay smirks. “that’s my girl.”

he pushes in slow, dragging every inch out, watching your face twist as he stretches you open. it’s so much—he’s so thick, so deep—that your back arches off the bed. your hands scramble for something to hold onto as your walls flutter around him.

“that’s it,” he grits out, voice wrecked. “take it. take all of it, pretty girl.”

he doesn’t give you a moment to adjust. his thrusts are hard from the start, each one punching breath out of your lungs. he fucks you like he’s angry at how good you feel, like he needs to ruin you just to prove he can.

“you’re mine,” he snarls, gripping your hips so tight they’ll bruise. “wrapped yourself up like a little present, huh? think i wouldn’t unwrap you and make a mess?”

you’re crying out now, half from the stretch, half from how good it is. “so good—jay, please—“

“feel me in your stomach?” he asks darkly, pressing a hand down on your lower belly. “you’re so tiny, baby, look how well you take me.”

your body twitches when he says it, when he leans down to kiss your jaw, your lips, your tears.

“this what you wanted?” he whispers. “to be fucked dumb on my birthday?”

you nod helplessly, grabbing at his shoulders. “wanted to be perfect for you…”

jay stills for just a second. kisses you like he means it, soft and slow.

“you are,” he breathes. “my perfect girl. my favorite gift.”

then he pulls you up into his lap and turns you toward the mirror beside the bed. he keeps you on his cock the whole time, holding you in place while he fucks you from behind, hands on your throat and stomach, eyes locked on your reflection.

“look how pretty you are,” he groans, watching your tits bounce with each thrust. “how fucked-out and perfect you look for me.”

you cum again like that, falling apart in his arms, twitching around him until he can’t hold back anymore. jay buries himself inside you, lets out a low, broken moan as he fills you up.

“fuck, baby,” he pants against your shoulder. “take all of it. every drop. that’s it…”

he stays buried in you while you both catch your breath, his hands stroking your thighs, your waist, your stomach.

“best birthday i’ve ever had,” he murmurs. “and you’re mine forever.”

113 notes · View notes

briefinquiries · 1 month ago

Text

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 25

Tommy Shelby x Reader: Chapter 25

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: As you and Tommy wait through the night at the hospital, the weight of everything you've endured begins to surface. In the quiet, Tommy finally lets some of his guard down.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language, emetophobia

You’d forgotten how cold hospitals could be.

Not the kind of cold that came from air vents or tile floors, but the kind that settled in your chest, deep and still, the longer you waited. It had been over an hour since they took Finn behind those doors. Long enough for the adrenaline to wear off. Long enough for your hands to start shaking. Long enough for fear to start creeping in, quiet and heavy.

You sat in the stiff plastic chair beside Tommy, your knees pulled close, his coat still streaked with blood. No one had come out yet. No updates. No news.

You’d let go of his hand a while ago. Not because you didn’t want to hold it, but because your fingers had gone numb. Because he’d gone so still. Because neither of you had said a word since they wheeled Finn away.

Now, your hands were folded tightly in your lap, and his were resting on his knees—red-stained, motionless.

Arthur and John had joined you not long after. Arthur sat on the edge of his seat, jittery, his leg bouncing, fingers tugging at a loose thread in his coat. He hadn’t stopped talking since he sat down—not to anyone in particular, just letting words fill the space like they might hold the fear at bay.

“He was conscious when we got him out, wasn’t he?” Arthur said, not waiting for an answer. “He was talkin’. Cryin’ a bit. That’s a good sign. That’s normal for a kid. He’s tough, our Finn. Always has been. Remember when he broke his wrist fallin’ off that shed? Didn’t even cry then.”

John had taken to pacing again, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “He was breathin’,” he muttered. “They just have to drain the air or whatever, patch it up. He’ll be alright.”

Arthur nodded, fast. “Yeah. Yeah, exactly.”

Neither of them looked at Finn’s blood still dried on their sleeves.

You said nothing. Neither did Tommy. He hadn’t moved in minutes. He just sat there, jaw clenched, staring straight ahead like if he focused hard enough, he’d will the hallway doors to open.

Arthur kept going. “I mean—he’s twelve, but he’s Shelby, yeah? Got all of us in him. Kid’s tougher than he looks.”

John stopped pacing just long enough to scrub a hand through his hair. “Still shouldn’t have happened. What’re we going to do about Changretta, Tom?”

Your stomach twisted hard, nausea rising from somewhere deep, unshakable.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The sound of their voices—fast, nervous, angry—started to blur. Like you were underwater, or far away. You couldn’t hear them clearly, and you didn’t want to.

You stood quickly. Tommy’s eyes flicked to you, tracking your movement, but he didn’t say a word as you slipped out of the waiting room and down the hall, barely paying attention to the signs. The fluorescent lights overhead felt too bright, the floor too steady beneath your feet.

The door to the women’s bathroom creaked open when you stepped inside. You went straight to the sink, gripping the edge with both hands. Cold porcelain under your palms. Your reflection looked like someone you barely recognized, pale, streaked with dried blood that wasn’t yours, eyes dark and sunken.

You tried to breathe. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

Once. Then twice.

But it didn’t hold. The nausea surged, hot and sharp, and you turned just in time to drop to your knees in front of the toilet.

You were sick before you could stop it, your body tensing, rejecting everything all at once. It wasn’t just the fear or the smell of antiseptic in the hallway—it was everything that had been sitting in your chest since Finn's cries echoed through that phone line.

When it was over, you flushed the toilet with a trembling hand, then leaned back against the wall, the cool tile biting into your spine through your shirt.

You sat there on the floor for a moment, breath hitching, then pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. You tucked your head down, resting your forehead against your arms.

The quiet was deafening.

And then the tears came. Not with sobs or gasps or shaking shoulders.

Just silent, steady drops that slipped down your cheeks and soaked into your sleeves. You didn’t wipe them away. There was no point.

Everything hurt—your head, your chest, your heart. You were tired of blood. Tired of watching people you loved get hurt. Tired of pretending that holding it all together meant you were okay.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, curled in on yourself, knees to your chest, face buried in your arms. The tears had stopped falling some time ago, but you hadn’t moved.

Suddenly, you heard a knock against the door.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have it in you.

Shortly after, the door creaked open, the hinges whining in the too-quiet space. The noise was followed by footsteps that were measured and careful, the soft scrape of boots against tile.

You didn’t look up, but you could tell it was Tommy before he even spoke.

You recognized the sound of him. The rhythm of his walk. And some part of you wondered what it said about you—that you could know him by the way he moved through a room. That even in silence, you could feel him.

There was a certain stillness he carried with him. The way he moved was controlled and deliberate. Like even in his most uncertain moments, he didn’t let the world see him hesitate.

You felt him pause just a few feet away, like he was trying to decide whether or not to come closer. The air shifted slightly with his presence.

He didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t ask what was wrong, he didn’t fill the space with questions you didn’t want to answer.

He just stood there for a moment, watching you, his shoulders tense, his coat still streaked with blood, jaw tight like he was fighting the urge to reach for you too fast.

“I thought maybe you’d passed out,” he said finally, his voice low.

You didn’t lift your head. You just shook it once, barely.

“I’m fine.” It was a lie.

He stepped closer, slowly lowering himself to a crouch in front of you.

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m am,” you tried again, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine—”

This time, your voice cracked. It was enough to give you away.

Tommy exhaled, quiet and tired, and then eased down beside you on the cold tile floor, coat rustling softly as he sat with his back against the wall. Once he was settled, he reached out and slipped an arm around your shoulders, careful and steady, giving you just enough time to pull away if you wanted to.

You didn’t. Because all you wanted was his touch—his comfort, something solid to hold onto after the weight of everything finally tipped.

You let him pull you in gently until your body leaned against his, your cheek pressed into the rough wool of his coat. It smelled like blood and smoke and outside air—everything that should’ve unsettled you, but didn’t.

Because it was him.

Your hands stayed tucked between your knees at first, trying to stay composed, to hold on a little longer. But then one of them moved, almost without thought, clutching lightly at the front of his coat, just above the buttons.

Like your body knew before your mind did—that you were safe enough to let go. That’s when the tears started again. There was no warning or build-up. Just quiet sobs that slipped out one at a time, your shoulders trembling slightly as you tried to keep your breathing steady and failed.

Tommy didn’t flinch. He just pulled you in closer, the grip of his arm tightening around you, the edge of his jaw brushing your temple as he leaned in a little more. His other hand came up and settled gently over your arm, anchoring you against him—warm, steady, like he was bracing you both.

“It’s alright,” he said, low and rough. “I’ve got you.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. Your breath hitched again, and the next sob was sharper, harder to swallow. You turned your face further into his chest, the coarse fabric of his coat rough against your skin. You could feel the dampness of dried blood beneath your cheek, smell the faint trace of smoke in the wool.

Your fists curled into the front of his coat, gripping it like it was the only thing tethering you to the room.

The tile beneath you was cold. Your knees ached. Somewhere in the hallway, a door opened and closed, but it felt a thousand miles away. Tommy didn’t move, he didn’t speak again. He just held you.

One hand rubbed slowly up and down your back, it wasn’t rushed or hesitant, just enough pressure to remind you that he was there. His breathing was slow, calm, like he was trying to get yours to match his.

Bit by bit, the shaking eased. The tightness in your chest loosened. The tears slowed. You were still curled into him, your forehead pressed against the side of his neck now, eyes sore and dry, your body heavy with exhaustion. But you could breathe again.

You shifted slightly, drawing in a deeper breath.Tommy glanced down at you, but didn’t speak. He just let his hand rest at the center of your back now, fingers still and warm.

You stayed like that a while longer, on the cold bathroom floor.

Until eventually, you lifted your head, your forehead brushing against his jaw as you pulled back just enough to look at him.

Your eyes were puffy, your cheeks damp and flushed, breath still a little uneven, but you weren’t shaking anymore.

Tommy looked at you for a long moment, saying nothing. His gaze searched yours. Then he raised one hand and gently brushed his thumb across your cheek, wiping away the last of the tears that clung there.

His touch was warm, steady, and careful.

“Tommy, I’m so tired,” you whispered. Your voice was raw, not just from crying, but from everything. From holding it all in. From staying upright when it felt like the world kept pulling people out from under you.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at you, really looked at you, like he was only now seeing how far you’d been stretched. How long you’d been carrying it without complaint.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice low. “I know you are.”

He let his hand slide gently behind your neck, guiding your head back to his shoulder. You didn’t resist.

You sat like that again, curled into his side, the two of you slumped against the wall in the quiet tile room. Just the sound of distant footsteps, the hum of fluorescent lights, and your breathing, slow and uneven, but steadier now.

Then, after a long silence, he spoke again.

“When this is over,” he said, voice barely above a murmur, “I’m taking you away.”

You blinked against his shoulder. “What?”

“You deserve a honeymoon,” he said simply. “A proper one. Just us. Somewhere quiet.”

“Where?” you asked softly.

“Anywhere you’d like,” he replied.

You didn’t respond right away. The thought of that—a version of your life where quiet existed, where you weren’t constantly waiting for the next knock at the door or the next ring of the phone—felt so far away it almost hurt to imagine.

“I promise,” he added, like he could sense your hesitation. “We’ll disappear for a bit. No business. No blood. Just you and me.”

You let out the smallest breath of a laugh—not because it was funny, but because it felt fragile. Like if you didn’t laugh, you might cry again.

“You don’t disappear, Tommy Shelby.”

He didn’t argue. Just gave a quiet hum, the kind that meant maybe I will this time.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said. “You deserve more than this.”

You looked up at him, eyes still swollen, voice rasping. “So do you.”

He didn’t answer. But his arm tightened around you just slightly, like he didn’t know what to say to that. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t believe it yet.

There was a long pause—thick with everything that had happened, and everything still waiting.

Then his voice dropped, low and rough, just above a whisper. “I’m sorry you married a Shelby.”

You didn’t move at first, just stayed there against him, your hand curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

He wasn’t looking for a response. It wasn’t self-pity, and it wasn’t drama. It was just the truth, the way he saw it.

He didn’t pull away, didn’t brace himself for you to agree. He just let the silence sit between you like he’d already made peace with it.

But you turned your head slightly, just enough for your cheek to rest against his collarbone.

“I’m not,” you said.

He stilled for a second.

“I’m not sorry I married you,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s no one else for me, Tommy.”

You felt him take a slow breath, deep and quiet, like he was trying to steady something inside himself.

“I never wanted anyone else,” you added. “Even when I was scared. Even when I’m still scared. You’re the only person I trust to keep me safe.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His hand just stayed there against your back, the weight of it grounding.

Then he tilted his head down, resting his chin lightly against the top of yours. “Christ,” he murmured, voice thick, almost bitter. “I’ve put you through so much—too much.”

You stayed quiet, your eyes closed against the weight of it.

“You’re the first good thing I’ve ever had that didn’t have to be bought with blood,” he said softly.

His voice caught slightly.

“I couldn’t help but marry you. But I come with a curse. And now it’s yours, too.”

He let out a slow, shaky breath against your hair, like admitting it out loud cost him something.

“I don’t know how to be any different,” he said, so low you almost missed it.

It should’ve scared you, hearing him say it like loving him was a death sentence. Like marrying him had sealed your fate. But all you felt was a deep ache for him. For the boy who’d survived a war only to keep living inside it.

Your fingers curled lightly into his coat, and you stayed pressed against him, anchoring the both of you to that quiet space on the hospital floor.

“I know,” you whispered. “I’m not asking for different.”

He nodded slowly against your hair, and for a few seconds, it felt like that might be the end of it. But then, quietly, he added, “If you ever change your mind about that… I wouldn’t blame you.”

Your brow furrowed as you pulled back just enough to look at him. “Please don’t say that.”

He met your gaze, his face unreadable, eyes shadowed with something heavier than doubt, maybe expectation.

“I mean it,” he said.

You shook your head, firmer this time. “Don’t.”

Your voice wasn’t sharp, but it was steady. “Don’t make it sound like walking away is some kind of mercy. Like it’s something you’d expect me to do if I had any sense.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.

“I’m here, Tommy. I chose this. I chose you. So don’t push me toward the door.”

The words hung in the air between you. This time, he didn’t argue. He just looked at you like he wanted to believe you. Like maybe he could.

And he gave the smallest nod. Tommy didn’t say anything else. Instead, he shifted, pushing gently off the floor with a grunt and standing slowly.

He offered you his hand. You took it.

His fingers curled around yours, warm and steady, and he helped you to your feet with care, like you might fall apart again if he moved too fast.

Neither of you spoke as you stepped out into the hallway.

The waiting room hadn’t changed. John was still pacing back and forth, wearing a line into the floor, jaw tight and eyes darting toward the double doors every few passes. Arthur sat slouched in a chair, head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed, but not asleep. Just worn out. The kind of tired that lived in the bones.

No one looked up when you walked back in.

Tommy led you quietly to the corner of the room and sat down in the nearest empty chair, keeping your hand in his.

You followed without hesitation, letting him pull you down beside him.

The moment you sat, your head found his shoulder, and he let it rest there without a word. He didn’t speak or shift. He just let you lean on him.

The room was quiet, save for the low hum of fluorescent lights and the soft scuff of John’s boots across the linoleum floor.

Tommy hadn’t moved since you sat down. His arm stayed looped loosely around your back, hand resting at your side, his shoulder firm and warm beneath your head.

You hadn’t meant to close your eyes. Just a blink, a breath.

But exhaustion crept in all at once—the kind that didn’t just live in your body but buried itself deeper. Behind your ribs. In the quiet places you didn’t often let anyone see.

You hadn’t slept since before the phone call. Before the blood. Before everything spun sideways. So you let yourself lean in a little more.

His shirt still smelled like smoke and iron. You could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. The warmth of him beside you, grounding.

And somewhere between one breath and the next, your body softened, and your mind slipped.

Tommy felt the shift in your weight, subtle, warm, and trusting. He glanced down just once, eyes tracing the edge of your face, the way your hand had curled lightly in your lap.

And then he leaned his head back against the wall and stayed perfectly still, keeping watch.

…

You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep, only that it wasn’t long enough.

The fluorescent lights still buzzed above, and the chairs still dug into your back, but something had changed. Movement. Voices.

You blinked awake slowly, disoriented, the weight of sleep still clinging to your limbs. Then a gentle hand touched your arm.

Tommy was already sitting up straighter, his hand steadying your elbow as you pushed upright, groggy and heavy-limbed.

You looked around, confused for a second, until you saw the nurse standing in front of you both, a clipboard in her hands and tired eyes that had clearly delivered this kind of news more times than she cared to count.

“Finn Shelby,” she said gently. “He’s stable for now. But it’s going to be touch and go over the next day or so.”

Your stomach dropped. Tommy’s jaw shifted beside you, but he didn’t speak, just nodded once.

“The bullet collapsed his lung,” she went on. “We inserted a chest tube to relieve the pressure and gave him a transfusion to get his vitals back up. He’s sedated, but… he’s fighting.”

You nodded too, your throat tight. “Can we see him?”

“Not yet,” she said. “He’s still in recovery. But soon.”

She offered you a kind, tight smile before retreating back through the doors she’d come through, leaving you two alone.

You sat back slowly, your hands in your lap, still feeling the shape of sleep pressing behind your eyes. “Where’s Arthur and John?” you asked, voice hoarse.

Tommy leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I sent them home about an hour ago. Nothing more for them to do here.”

He looked at you for a beat, then said quietly, “I was going to ask if you wanted to go home.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You already know my answer.”

He gave a faint nod, like he expected it. Like he knew better than to ask but had to try.

“There’s not much we can do here,” he said. “Except wait.”

“Then we wait,” you replied, folding your arms around yourself. “I’m not leaving him.”

Tommy didn’t argue. He just sat back, silent again, eyes drifting toward the hallway where they’d taken Finn, and waited with you.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

The silence didn’t feel strained, just heavy. Tired and shared.

You sat with your arms folded, your eyes fixed on the same hallway Tommy was watching. Occasionally, the intercom buzzed. A distant cough. A squeaky wheel from a gurney passing somewhere out of sight.

Tommy leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, one hand absently turning his wedding ring around his finger. The motion was slow, unconscious.

You glanced over at him after a while, then back toward the hall.

And finally, quietly, you said, “You know this is the most time we’ve spent together, just the two of us, since the wedding.”

Tommy’s hand stilled on the ring.

He looked at you, eyes tired but focused.

“I know you all warned me. But this wasn’t exactly how I imagined it,” you added, lips quirking slightly despite yourself. “At least not right off the bat.”

He let out the softest sound—half a breath, maybe the start of a laugh. Or just disbelief.

“Right,” he murmured. “Wish I could say the same.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “You think we’ll ever get that honeymoon?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you with something unreadable in his expression—like he wanted to say yes but wasn’t sure it was fair to.

Finally, he said, “I’ll make sure of it. One way or another.”

You nodded once, quietly. “I know you will.”

You glanced at Tommy’s hand again, still resting on his knee, the wedding ring glinting faintly in the light.

“You’ve been twisting that ring around for twenty minutes,” you said gently.

He looked down at his hand like he hadn’t even noticed.

“Didn’t realize I was doing it,” he murmured, then paused, longer than before.

Then, quietly, almost like it slipped out without permission, he sighed. “I hate hospitals.”

You looked at him, surprised by the subtle vulnerability.

“They’re too quiet,” he added. “Too clean. Smells the same no matter where you are.”

He didn’t have to explain. But he did anyway. “France was full of places like this. Tents, basements, bombed-out buildings with too many beds and not enough time.” He paused. “Same lights. Same sounds. Same waiting.”

You swallowed and shifted closer without thinking, your shoulder pressing lightly into his.

“I know,” you said softly. You reached down and gently took his hand.

His fingers closed around yours without hesitation.

“I used to pretend it didn’t bother me,” he said after a long pause. “Would light a cigarette, lean against a wall, act like I was above it.”

You glanced at him, but he didn’t meet your eyes.

“Didn’t matter how many times I did it. The smell always came back. The sounds. Sometimes I’d walk into a room like this and swear I’d been there before. But I hadn’t. They just all look the fucking same.”

You squeezed his hand, gently. He was talking more than usual. Not out of comfort, but because he trusted you enough to say it out loud.

“Every time I walk into a place like this, part of me braces for the worst,” you admitted. “Even if it’s not my blood on the floor.”

Tommy turned his head just enough to meet your eyes.

“Me too.”

It was just two words, but it said enough. You both understood that kind of wiring, how war taught your body to expect grief before any sort of hope.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes for a second.

“I just want him to be okay.”

Tommy’s grip on your hand tightened slightly.

“He will be,” he said.

And this time, he almost sounded like he believed it.

…

The hours passed slowly.

The kind of slow that made every second feel heavier than the last. Nurses came and went through the hallway beyond, but none of them stopped. The rain outside faded to a light mist. The waiting room thinned out. Somewhere along the way, a clock ticked past four in the morning.

You didn’t sleep again. Neither did Tommy.

You both sat in the same chairs, your hands still loosely entwined, your shoulders touching. Occasionally, you shifted. Stretched. Stood to get a drink of water and came back. But neither of you ever went far.

It was just after five when the nurse finally returned.

She was the same one as before, calm, efficient, and kind-eyed.

“You can see him now,” she said gently. “One at a time, for now, please.”

Your eyes met his. There was a quiet weight in his expression—relief tangled with exhaustion, worry with something harder to name.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

“Go,” he said, gently.

You hesitated, searching his face. “Are you sure?”

He nodded once. “You go first.”

There was no question in his voice. Just a quiet certainty. Like he knew you needed it. You gave a small nod and touched his hand briefly before turning to follow the nurse. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she led you through a set of quiet double doors.

“He’s stable,” she said as you neared the room. “Still sedated. You can sit with him for a bit, but keep your voice low.”

You nodded again, your heart climbing up into your throat. Then the nurse pushed open the door. The door clicked softly behind you as you stepped into the room.

It was dim, lit only by a single lamp near the bed and the faint blue glow of machines lining the wall. The steady beep-beep of a heart monitor was the only sound.

Finn looked so much smaller in the hospital bed. His skin was pale, washed out by the fluorescent light overhead. His curly hair was matted to one side, and a thin tube ran beneath his nose, attached to the oxygen supply. Bandages wrapped around his chest, peeking out from the edge of his gown. One arm was hooked up to fluids, the other resting limply by his side.

He didn’t move. But he was breathing.

You took a slow, shaky step forward.

There was a chair pulled up near the bed, and you lowered yourself into it carefully, eyes never leaving his face.

“Hi Finn,” you whispered, your voice catching despite yourself.

He didn’t stir. You didn’t expect him to. But it still made something twist painfully in your chest.

“I’m here,” you said softly, brushing your fingers gently against the back of his hand. His skin was warm. “I’m here, and I’m so sorry, Finn…”

There wasn’t much more to say. Nothing that could fix what had already happened.

So you sat with him. You sat and listened to the monitor beep, watched the rise and fall of his chest, and held his hand like it could anchor both of you to the room, like it could bring him back just a little sooner.

You stayed like that for a while, hand in his, eyes watching every small rise and fall of his chest like it might suddenly stop if you looked away.

There was no clock in the room, but time passed in the slow, aching way it always did in hospitals. Minutes stretching into something longer. The quiet humming of machines and the occasional shuffle of footsteps in the hallway were the only signs that life was still moving beyond the walls.

At one point, Finn’s fingers twitched slightly under yours. Just a flutter.

You held on a little tighter, even though he didn’t stir again.

Eventually, you leaned back in the chair, your body aching from the tension that had never quite left. You glanced over at the door, then gently released Finn’s hand.

You stood, brushing your fingers over his blankets one last time before quietly slipping out of the room. Tommy was still where you’d left him, standing against the wall outside, hands in his coat pockets. He looked up the second he saw you.

“He’s okay,” you said quietly, voice raw from disuse. “Still out, but… he’s warm. Breathing.”

Tommy didn’t ask questions.

He just gave a small nod, then stepped past you toward the door.

You turned with him, meaning to sit back down, but before he could disappear inside, a different nurse at the end of the hallway called softly to you both.

“We’re not supposed to do this,” she said, approaching softly. “But you can just go in together. As long as you keep it quiet. We’re not too strict about that sort of thing when it’s family.”

Tommy looked at you, silent question in his eyes. You nodded once.

He turned back toward the door, and you followed close behind as he pushed it open. Finn looked just the same as you’d left him, except now the sight of him didn’t hit quite so hard.

Maybe it was the company. Maybe it was the relief of knowing you weren’t holding the weight alone anymore. Tommy moved first, pulling the second chair closer to Finn’s bedside. You did the same, taking the one you’d left earlier. For a moment, neither of you said a word.

His elbows rested on his knees, eyes locked on the boy in the bed like he could will him awake just by being there. You reached for Finn’s hand again and held it loosely in both of yours.

The room hummed with quiet.

Then, softly, you spoke. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

Tommy didn’t look at you right away. Just exhaled slowly through his nose.

“He’ll be okay,” he said eventually.

You nodded, even though his hesitation made your stomach twist. You stared at Finn for a long time, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Then, quietly, you added, “It’s hard for me to talk about it… what Campbell did.”

Tommy’s eyes flicked to you, but he said nothing.

“But I think about it all the time,” you said. “Every single day.”

Your voice didn’t shake. It didn’t need to.

“It’s in the corners,” you added. “That fear. I’m trying to learn to live around it, but I don’t think it’ll ever leave.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t interrupt.

“I don’t want that for Finn,” you said, turning slightly toward him. “I don’t want him to feel haunted like that. Like someone can reach out of the dark and take everything from you in a second.”

You looked back at the bed.

“He’s just a boy, Tommy. He shouldn’t have to live like that.”

Tommy leaned back slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, and for a moment, the hardness in him cracked.

“I know,” he said.

You looked over at him, studying the way his fingers rubbed at his temple, the furrow in his brow that hadn’t eased since the call came through.

“He won’t,” Tommy said, more certain this time. “We’ll make sure of it.”

You wanted to believe that. Needed to. But you also knew the world didn’t always work that way—not even when you fought like hell to protect the people you loved.

The room had fallen back into silence. Just the steady beeping of the monitor and the soft, rhythmic sound of Finn’s breathing.

Until it changed. It was subtle at first—a twitch in his fingers, a shift in the way his chest rose. Then a faint sound, like a breath caught in his throat.

You straightened in your chair, eyes snapping to his face.

Another sound. A murmur—barely audible, slurred and broken.

“...Wha–”

You were already leaning forward, fingers brushing his hair gently back from his damp forehead. His skin was warm, slightly clammy.

“We’re right here, sweetheart,” you said softly, your voice warm and low, instinctively maternal in a way you hadn’t planned for. “You’re alright. Just rest.”

His eyelids fluttered, eyes struggling to open. They didn’t quite manage, but he shifted again, mouth moving like he was trying to form words that wouldn’t come out.

“Shh,” you murmured, smoothing your hand over his curls. “You’re safe now.”

Tommy had stood the moment he heard Finn speak. He stepped closer, silent, but you could feel him there—hovering and protective.

Finn mumbled again, unintelligible, his head turning slightly toward the sound of your voice. You leaned down a little more, your hand resting lightly on his cheek.

“You’re in the hospital,” you whispered. “I’m here, Tommy’s here. Everyone’s okay. You’re safe.”

His brow twitched, like he was trying to make sense of it, but his body stayed heavy against the bed.

Finn mumbled something again, but then his face went slack as he drifted back under. He was too tired to stay awake, but still holding on.

You didn’t pull away right away. Just kept your hand on his cheek, as if to reassure both of you that he was still there.

<< Previous Chapter

Next Chapter >>

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders x y/n

145 notes · View notes

corvidcrossbow · 11 months ago

Text

Since I made a post about Mother's Day w/ Daryl, I gotta make a Father's Day one too.

For obvious reasons, he didn't like Father's Day (me neither Daryl). It felt insulting to see people celebrating their dads, felt so forced and unfair, stupid even. How come other people got to have fathers who were there for them and cared for them while he didn't? What made him undeserving of that? (Mother's Day was already hard enough when he was young, sitting in class and nearly trembling from how hard he was straining himself to not cry while those around him made cards and talked about their plans for the weekend with their moms) So he tried to push the existence of the holiday out of his mind.

Fatherhood was never something he pictured. Even when the hypothetical idea of kids crossed his mind, he was sure it would never be plausible: he'd just follow footsteps and end up some doped up abusive deadbeat as well. Although he never pictured an apocalypse with the undead either, and that pushed the idea of fatherhood even further into a realm of impossibility.

So both those happening, and someone as perfect as you being directly involved in it, was leagues outside his imagination.

The first Father's Day after your child was born was rough. He enjoyed how the collapse of society made people lose track of the dates, too occupied with survival to care about minor things like this. But with the stability Alexandria provided, over time celebrations reintegrated into routines, this included, and he was not fond of the reminder.

He didn't mention the day at all leading up to it, or of, continuing his ignorance and hoping it'd slip your mind. He knew it wouldn't: you were too attentive and appreciative of him to miss any excuse to celebrate and congratulate him no matter the context.

But you threaded lightly, knowing it'd be touchy and let most the day pass by as any other would, just being extra sweet on him. You never wished him a ‘Happy Father's Day’, instead when you were going to bed that night thanking him for being a father, for everything he did for you and your daughter and how good he was at it.

He ended up just breaking down, falling apart in your hold and attempting to bury himself in you the same way he tried to bury so much else.

The next couple years were largely similar; little acknowledgement to the day, but extra acknowledgements to him. It was your daughter that started to make it more distinctive. A little older now, she saw the other kids in the community making little gifts and cards for their fathers the same way they did for mothers on the respective day. Even those who didn't have dads made them in memoriam.

So of course she did it too, she loved her daddy and did those things all the time anyway. Why not do it when it's even more special? She didn't even tell you about it, secretly assembling it all herself.

You shared Daryl's surprise when she presented her crafts, repeatedly saying the token phrase you'd held off from using. He was mostly frozen for a moment, trying to just see her and this singular day rather than previous decades of Father's Day's that came before, all negatively tinted and crossed out from his personal calendar.

He accepted it all, and her innocent recognition of the holiday's purpose. Though the urge flared up in some part of him, he couldn't shut her down. She meant well, and wasn't to blame for his rocky relationship with the day and his own father. He wouldn't create reason for her to despise the holiday too, and how could be cold to the human embodiment of sunshine while her toothy smile was beaming at him?

He put her to bed that evening, spending an extra while stroking her hair and admiring how peaceful she looked while sleeping. Despite the state of the world, she had the privilege to not only sleep, but feel safe while doing so. And he's what allowed that; gave her that.

She got to feel safe from all the horrors he'd seen: the walkers, blood, guts, violence, death, immorality, all the disturbing things about life that were amplified by the apocalypse.

But more importantly, she felt safe with him.

She got to excitedly jump on him while he was still asleep in the morning, roll around and shake him till he finally got up. She got to play with him in the dirt while out in the yard, or sit him down with jewelry and accessories surrounded by stuffed animals and toy dinnerware. She got to chase him around and bombard him with curious questions and learn everything she could from him.

She got to make messes and break things, make mistakes, and know he'd always help her clean or fix them.

She got to show her emotions and be a kid and cry, and know he would always hold and soothe her, wipe away her tears and do anything to make sure she was okay.

And she never knew a different response. She never knew the yelling or insults, the degradation, the mockery, the beatings and burnings and whippings. She got to fall asleep by her father's side, lulled to rest by his comforting voice, be in the most vulnerable state a person could be, and know that the last thing he would ever do was hurt her; the idea – the worry – of him hurting her did not exist in her mind.

Daryl'd crumbled to tears by the time he returned to you that night, collapsing into your arms the way he did every time the reality of being a parent hit him. He would never truly understand how he got to this point in life, how every unfathomable thing – good and bad – had genuinely occurred and this is what was real.

From the instant you found out you were pregnant, he'd promised you, promised himself, and promised his child he would always be the father he'd wanted, that he'd deserved, that his kid deserved and that every child deserves. He healed his own childhood by assuring his daughter'd have a good one, and that he'd be regarded as a good part of it.

She made Father's Day something that could actually be ‘happy’ for him.

The daddy issues hit a little too hard while writing this

I fr don't know where the last week of my life went I just remember watching Lost 🗿

348 notes · View notes

twdgrxmes · 5 days ago

Text

Summer of Sin - Dbf Joel Miller x Reader (Part 1)

next->

Word count: 3.1k Warnings: None, Just an introduction chapter w/ a little bit of flirting.

The heat hit you first.

Stepping out of the car felt like slipping into a memory — familiar, warm, and just a little too much. The Texas sun hadn’t changed in the years you’d been away. It still wrapped around you like a heavy blanket, pressed against your skin, clung to your clothes, filled your lungs with dry, cicada-humming air. The wind carried that scent you hadn’t smelled in so long: sun-baked grass, barbecue smoke from somewhere down the block, the faint sweetness of honeysuckle growing wild along the neighbor’s fence.

You blinked against the brightness and adjusted the strap of your sundress, your suitcase wheels catching on the gravel of the driveway. The light cotton clung to your skin in the heat — pale yellow with little embroidered flowers, the kind of thing you wouldn’t have worn freshman year. You’d grown into it since then, into soft curves and the way your hips filled the fabric. No longer the scrawny girl who left for college with too much eyeliner and a suitcase full of dreams. Your hair was longer now, tucked half-up in a velvet bow, and your lips were painted with just enough gloss to catch the light. You liked who you were becoming — slower, surer, a little quieter.

College had been good to you. Not perfect — you still didn’t know what you wanted to do with your life — but it gave you something to push against. Nights spent cramming in the library, mornings nursing bitter coffee, a few friends who came and went, and one heartbreak that still stung a little when you let your guard down. You came back with more stories, stronger boundaries, and a new habit of biting your bottom lip when you were thinking too hard. You weren’t a kid anymore. Not by a long shot.

The front door creaked open before you could knock.

“There’s my college grad!” your dad grinned, arms wide, beer sweating in his hand. His face was a little more weathered than you remembered — deeper lines at the corners of his eyes, a few more silver threads in his hair — but that same easy warmth lived in his voice.

You dropped your bag and let him hug you, his flannel shirt scratchy against your cheek. “Hey, Dad.”

“Look at you. Dress, nails, little ribbon in your hair—you been hanging around those fancy art kids again?”

You laughed. “Maybe.”

“Well, you look beautiful, sweetheart.” He stepped back and smiled. “Grown up.”

You smiled, proud of gaining your dad’s approval.

As if on cue, he jerked his thumb toward the backyard. “Barbecue’s already going. Joel’s out back manning the grill.”

There it was.

That name. That twist low in your belly.

Joel Miller.

You hadn’t seen him since the summer before sophomore year. He’d sent a card for your birthday. Your dad’s best friend since forever. The man who was always around. Fixing things around the house, joining the two of you for breakfasts, lunches and dinners, teaching you how to check the oil in your beat-up first car. All those memories lived in the in-between spaces of your childhood — and yet, none of them felt innocent anymore.

Not since you started seeing him for what he was.

Not since you realized that the warmth in your chest wasn’t just affection.

You swallowed. “Still making him do all the hard work, huh?”

Your dad snorted. “He insists. Says I’d burn the place down if I tried to grill. And he ain’t wrong.”

You forced a smile, heart beginning to thud behind your ribs. “Guess I should say hi.”

You stepped through the house, past framed photos of old birthdays and middle school sports trophies, and opened the back door to a wall of sunlight and the scent of charcoal.

And there he was.

Joel Miller.

Standing over the grill, tongs in hand, a bottle of Shiner resting against his thigh. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, showing off strong forearms dusted with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore a worn button-down, sweat-darkened at the collar, and those faded jeans he always seemed to wear — snug around thick thighs, torn just slightly at the knee. His hair was longer than you remembered, brushed back and curling a little at the edges, flecked with silver. His beard was thicker, too — full and streaked with gray, making him look even older, even more…

Unreachable.

He hadn’t seen you yet.

But then, he did.

His gaze flicked up from the grill, and he froze.

Only for a second. But you saw it — the pause, the shift, the flicker of something behind his eyes.

You weren’t sixteen anymore. You weren’t a kid in jean shorts and braces calling him Uncle Joel. You were twenty-one, in a sundress, lip gloss shining, your hair catching the golden light.

And Joel Miller saw you.

His expression gave nothing away, but his hand tightened around the neck of the beer bottle.

“Well,” he said, low and measured. “Look who finally came home.”

Your smile trembled at the edges, but you held your ground. “Hey, Joel.”

He didn’t answer right away — just looked at you. Like he was trying to reconcile the girl he used to know with the woman standing in front of him now.

“College treat you alright?”

You nodded. “You could say that. Definitely feel more grown up”

That almost-smile tugged at his mouth as he gave you a slow once-over, his gaze lingering. “Yeah..Sounds about right.”

Your dad’s voice broke the spell as he stepped onto the porch behind you, clapping a hand to Joel’s back.

“She made it through all four years, can you believe it?”

Joel’s eyes lingered on yours for a beat longer before he turned back to the grill. “Yeah,” he said. “I believe it.”

But his voice was a little quieter than it should’ve been.

The backyard had always been the same: patchy grass, sagging patio chairs, the old oak tree you used to climb with skinned knees and a juice box in hand. But it looked smaller now, or maybe you had just gotten bigger. Older. The memories didn’t quite fit the same anymore.

Your dad handed you a drink — something cold and fizzy in a red solo cup — and you made small talk with neighbors you hadn’t seen in years. Mrs. Garcia still wore floral perfumes and overshared about her cats. The Murphy boys, once scrawny and sticky with popsicles, were now tall and awkward with half-grown beards and matching smirks. Everyone greeted you with wide smiles and some version of, look how much you’ve grown!

But you only half-heard them.

Because every time you glanced toward the grill, Joel was there.

And every time you looked, he wasn’t looking at you — but you wished he would. He moved slowly, deliberately, flipping burgers and handing off plates with a grunt, sipping his beer between tasks. But when he wiped his hand on a dishrag and caught your eye across the yard, your breath caught before you could stop it.

He still hadn’t said much.

But he didn’t have to.

The sun dipped lower as the evening wore on, smearing orange across the sky. You sat on the porch steps, bare legs crossed, drink cradled in your hands as the hum of conversation dulled into background noise. The food was mostly gone now, and your dad had drifted inside to grab something from the fridge, leaving Joel alone by the grill as he shut the propane off and packed up the tools with practiced ease.

You didn’t think about it — you just stood up and walked over.

“Need a hand?” you asked.

Joel glanced over his shoulder, eyes scanning your face first — then slowly dropping lower. You felt his gaze like a warm palm skimming over your skin. Not obvious. Not inappropriate. Just a beat too long.

“Nah,” he said. “Almost done.”

You hovered anyway, arms folding across your stomach.

“It’s weird being back,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, just for him. “Everything looks the same, but it all feels… smaller.”

Joel made a soft sound in his chest, almost like agreement. He wiped down the grill and didn’t meet your gaze. “That’s how it goes. You grow up, and the places stay the same. Makes ‘em feel smaller, not ‘cause they changed—but ‘cause you did. You’ve definitely changed.”

That settled into you, deeper than you expected.

You studied his profile — the strong line of his nose, the scruff of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows. There were new lines around his eyes, and the hollows of his cheeks looked a little sharper. Tired, maybe. Or just older.

“I missed this,” you said softly. “The quiet. The barbecues”

Joel looked at you now, the intensity of it grounding.

His voice was low. “You miss me, Gabs?”

You froze.

Was he.. Flirting? No, it was just a genuine question, Gabriella, snap out of it.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out right away. Your heart fluttered.

You nodded, honest. “Yeah. I did.”

Something passed between you. Not a spark, exactly. A recognition. A flicker of something old and unfinished.

Joel looked away first. He cleared his throat, straightened up, and wiped his hands on the rag again like he needed something to do.

“Well,” he muttered, “you’re home now.”

And somehow, that sentence made your chest ache.

You wanted to stay standing there. You wanted to ask him whether he missed you too, whether he thought about you in your absence like you did him. Why the look in his eyes tonight made it feel like he saw you — not as his buddy’s kid, not as a girl, but as something else entirely.

But your dad stepped outside again, and the moment snapped like a twig.

Joel took a step back. You took one too.

And just like that, the space between you returned — measured and polite.

But when the night ended and the yard emptied, when the folding chairs were stacked and your dad dozed off on the couch in front of the game, you passed by the front window and caught the headlights of Joel’s truck flick on.

You paused.

And through the windshield, he was looking at you.

He didn’t wave. Didn’t smile.

Just watched.

And then he drove away.

You stood there for a second too long after his truck disappeared down the street — the taillights swallowed by the dark, cicadas still buzzing like a warning in the trees.

The heat clung to you even now, long after the sun dipped past the horizon, turning the sky dusky purple. But it wasn’t the weather that made you press a hand to your chest. It was that look.

He had been watching.

And not like someone who’d known you since you were a little girl. Not like a family friend.

It was something else. And you couldn’t tell if it thrilled you or scared you.

Maybe both.

You locked the front door quietly behind you, your footsteps light across the hardwood as you climbed the stairs to your old bedroom. The posters were gone, the bedspread replaced, but it still smelled faintly like childhood — like lavender laundry detergent and sunscreen. You dropped onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling fan turning slowly above, mind reeling.

You miss me, Gabs?

He said your name like it meant something. Like it still meant something. Like he remembered you as more than the tagalong daughter of his best friend. Like maybe, in the quiet spaces between years, he’d thought of you too.

You rolled onto your side, hugging the pillow to your chest, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped.

This was dangerous territory. You knew that.

Joel was older. Joel was your dad’s best friend. Joel was so odd limits and you knew it, but fuck, did it only make you want him more.

You spent the next few days slipping back into old rhythms — mornings on the porch with your dad’s too-strong coffee, afternoons spent sorting through boxes in the garage, evenings helping chop vegetables in the kitchen while the game played low on the living room TV.

Joel didn’t show up.

Not at first.

But his absence was almost worse than seeing him. It made your skin feel tight, your breath short. You kept waiting for that knock on the door, that lazy drawl through the screen — “Need anything fixed?” — like he used to.

Three days passed before he finally appeared.

You were in the backyard again, barefoot, wearing a white, cotton sundress that wrapped around your thighs when it blew in the gentle breeze.

You didn’t hear his truck.

You just turned, hearing the gate creak open — and he was there.

By the back gate. One hand on the latch. The sun behind him.

Your heart kicked once, then galloped.

“Hey,” he said, voice rougher than usual. “Your dad home?”

You blinked. “Uh… no, he ran to the store. Should be back soon.”

Joel nodded once. But he didn’t move.

His eyes dragged over you — legs bare to the thigh, the dress pinching in around your waist, hair pulled up with little wisps clinging to your cheeks in the heat.

It looked like it pained him to drag his gaze away.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not.”

Silence hung between you. Heavy. Charged.

He shifted his weight, glanced at the laundry line, then back at you.

“You doin’ alright?” he asked, and there was something softer in it this time. Something that sounded like concern — or maybe restraint.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just... adjusting.”

Joel's jaw ticked once. He looked down, then up again.

“You look different.”

You smiled faintly. “You already said that.”

He stepped forward, slow, careful. The kind of movement a man makes when he knows what he's doing is toeing the line — and decides to do it anyway.

“I mean it.”

You could feel it again — that coil tightening inside you.

Dangerous.

His eyes dropped to your mouth. Just for a second. Then back up.

Your voice was steadier than you felt. “You gonna help me hang these or just stare?”

That made him snort — low, almost surprised. “Bossy now, huh?”

“Grown up now. Remember?”

His mouth quirked and he stepped closer, took the clothespin from your hand without breaking eye contact, and reached up to hang the damp sheet. His fingers brushed yours as he did, and your breath caught.

It was nothing.

But it felt like everything.

You stood there, a damp sheet fluttering between you, its edge catching in the breeze and brushing against Joel’s shoulder. He didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. Just kept his eyes on yours like the fabric wasn’t even there, like the rest of the world had faded out behind it.

He hung the last corner slowly. Deliberately. The clothespin clicked into place with a soft snap, but even that small sound felt louder than it should’ve. Like it split something open.

Joel stepped back, just a half-pace. Enough to stop touching, not enough to pull away.

You watched him — the way his shirt clung to his back in the heat, the sun gilding the curve of his jaw, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He wasn’t saying anything, and neither were you, but the silence between you was alive. Buzzing. Fragile.

“You still hate tomatoes?” he asked after a beat, nodding toward the scraggly garden bed behind you.

You blinked. It felt absurd, the question. Almost funny.

“Only when they’re raw,” you said. “Still think they taste too mushy.”

Joel huffed — a small breath of amusement that didn’t quite reach a smile. “Still dramatic.”

You walked toward the bed anyway, brushing past him. You swore you felt the heat of him as you moved — the way he didn’t shift out of your path, the way his eyes tracked you. You crouched near one of the plants, poked at the dry soil with your fingers.

“You always used to overwater them.”

“Oh, you’re the tomato expert then, are you?.”

You giggled, glancing over your shoulder at him, “Yeah, pretty much.”

You stood, dusted your hands off on the skirt of your dress. Walked back toward him slowly, your heartbeat ticking higher with every step. He stayed rooted in place. Waiting. Watching.

“You know I used to make excuses to come outside when you were working?” you said. “I’d sit on the porch just to hear you talk to my dad.”

Joel’s eyes snapped to yours.

“I know,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “You knew?”

“I ain’t stupid. You were a kid to me then."

“What am I to you now?”

That held in the air. Unanswered.

He didn’t confirm it — not with words. But he didn’t deny it either. His gaze dropped again, not to your mouth this time, but to your hands. Your fingers fidgeting at the hem of your dress. Then back up.

The space between you was so thin it felt like a mistake. Or a choice.

He took one step forward.

You didn’t move.

“You know I’m not seventeen anymore,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Joel looked at you then. Really looked. Not just with his eyes, but like he was trying to memorize the shape of your face. The softness of your voice. The edge of want in it.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered.

“Not scared of a little trouble, are you?”

His mouth twitched like he wanted to say something smart — or maybe stupid — but before he could, the sound of a car pulling into the drive broke the tension clean in two.

Joel turned his head, shoulders stiffening. You both stood frozen for a beat, like deer caught in sudden light.

Your dad’s voice called from the front yard. “Hey! Gabs, can you grab the eggs before I drop ‘em?”

Joel stepped back fast — too fast — like he needed the space to think straight. His hands went to his hips, his head shaking slightly like he was silently cursing himself.

“I should go,” he said gruffly.

You nodded, pulse still skittering in your throat. “Okay.”

He hesitated. Looked at you like he wanted to say more. Like he wanted to reach out and take something that had been on the tip of his fingers for years.

But he didn’t.

He just opened the gate, stepped through it, and shut it behind him with a soft click. Didn’t look back.

And just like that — the moment passed.

But it didn’t leave.

It clung to your skin like heat. Settled in your chest. And you had a feeling it wasn’t finished.

Not even close.

62 notes · View notes

crystlizabeth · 2 years ago

Text

TwinDad!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley with his girls!

The twins are OC’s!

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

- dad!Simon who was left with his twin girls while his wife was at work.

- dad!Simon who had to tell Zhuri her mama will hurt him if he took down her hair because she wanted to wear it a different way.

“Zhuri you cant take your hair down love.”

She gave him a hard glare a glare that seemed a little familiar coming from her face, she was his after all. “Why not” she huffed her arms crossing looking up at her father with a dirty glare her hip popping out in a sassy manner.

He Tsked at his daughter his hand coming to his hip “Because your mother will hurt me.” He answered simply.

She uncrossed her arms dramatically her little foot stomping as she threw her head up, “but I d’ wanna wear pigtails daddy!” She huffed.

“Zhuri ila, drop the sass.” He spoke trying to sound stern but couldn’t help at the helpless kid.

-dad!Simon who honestly had no trouble with his other daughter with her hair but with her shoes…

-dad!Simon who had to comfort little Sa’diya as she cried because she couldn’t tie her shoes laces now but could do it when her mommy was home.

“Sy sweetheart let me help you..” Simon said crouching down next to the little girl who wiped her teary eyes.

She shook her head, “Nuh uh I can do it! Mama show me yesterday.” She snuffled her little lip quivering.

Simon who hated seeing her this so he talked her through tying her lace Sa’diya telling him she knew what she’s doing every time he point a to her shoe.

-dad!simon who deals with his hellion Zhuri as she tries to start a WWE match with him as he helps her twin sister. But it end with the girls getting at eachother.

“Stop it Zhuri!”

“Your not the boss of me ‘Diya!” Zhuri shouted hanging on her father trying to pull him back.

“Did you brush your teeth I can smell your breath from here smelly.” Sa’diya said glaring at her sister.

Zhuri responding by blowing a raspberry at her.

-dad!Simon who thought okay maybe breakfast will be easier wrong. leaving them to eat as he collected their school bags the twins began to argue again.

-dad!Simon watch Zhuri show her sister her chewed food and Diya threading to throw her scrambled eggs at her and ruin her hot pink hello kitty shirt.

“You wont.” Zhuri said.

“Bet I will.” Sa’diya replied.

“You wouldn’t.” Zhuri dragged on.

Simon watched as the oldest twin grab some of her eggs in her hand getting ready to throw it as her sister “Sa’Diya Jovonnie. Put. The. Eggs. Down.” Simon spoke sternly from the kitchen counter, knowing if he let this go on he would be cleaning up egg and have a crying child because her favorite shirt had egg on it.

He watch as she dropped the egg back on her plate glaring at Zhuri who sat across from her with a cheeky grin on her face. “Listen ya little shit keep at that with ya sister imma let her have it at ya.” Simon spoke out knowing Zhuri was taunting her sister.

“What! I’m not doin anything daddy!” Zhuri protested turning around in her chair a grin still plastered on her face her little dimples popping out.

He hummed in response.

-dad!Simon who finally got them him his truck in their booster seats. The girls for once this morning not arguing but talking about a little art project they had.

-dad!Simon who had to walk his girls to their class because no is never an option with them. Carrying both pink and purple backpack on his shoulders his hands being held by the two girls at the walk him to the front of the school.

-dad!simon who watches Zhuri look up at him telling him to stop before they get all the way up knowing how he is with his face.

“Daddy if you want your mask you can put it on.” She whispered smiling at her father.

“It will be alright darlin’ it doesn’t bother me like that love im with you two alright.” He smiled lightly at the girl pulling her into a small hug in his crouched down position.

Simon giving her a kiss on the side of her face causing a fit of giggles.

-dad!simon who knew this was not ‘Diyas favorite place once he got to her classroom he little hand griping on to her father’s jacket.

-dad!simon who watched her eyes fill with tears because she did want to be here.

“Do I have to go in..” she mumbled.

Simons hand who tilted her head up looking down at her with a reassuring expression “it’s alright love, I promise. I’ll be here to pick you up this afternoon as well,”

She nodded lightly “will mommy be with you?” She asked. Sy was a mamas girl for sure not that she didn’t want Simon around but Zhuri was the same way with him. He leaned down kissing her forehead “that’s from yer’ mama she loves you lots and we’ll see her tomorrow morning okay luv?” He spoke softly.

A small sniffle and she nodded “you got this Sy, your strong, confident girl, you can do it right.” He said still looking down at her little brown eyes her lashes wet from tears.

“I can do this, I’m strong and confident.” She said. Simon chuckled.

“Atta girl.” He kissed her head once more watching her as she walked into her classroom.

-dad!simon who now had to deal with his hellion and her teacher who liked him. But Zhuri always shut her down.

“Why are you talking like that to my daddy?” Zhuri crossed her arm’s sassily looking at her teacher who had started lightly flirting with Simon.

“My daddy doesn’t like other girls besides my momma, and me obviously.” She grinned.

Her teacher got quiet but let Zhuri know that she should say goodbye to her daddy, Zhuri who gladly tackled her father hugging his torso Simon who laughed picking her up “you’ll get points from your mama with that one.” He chuckled kissed Zhuris cheeks setting her back down.

“Bye Daddy!”

“Bye ya hellion don’t cause trouble.” He said.

“Cant promise anything!” She grinned.

-dad!Simon who always come back to the thought that he would never have children or family but now he stood here with his girls. Learning to do their hair. What foods they like and dislike. Going through a phase where he would call them each others names to the point they started playing tricks on him on who’s who. Now he sat at gymnastic meets, softball games and whatever those girls wanted to do may it be soccer, basketball ball, swim. Simon was right there, he would sit with them playing tea party and doctor. He would let the girls color in his sleeve when he needed them quite.

-dad!Simon who when her first held them his whole world lit up. And he knew that he would do anything for them. He would kill for them.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

960 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 11 months ago

Text

Fic Finder

June 30th

~*~

1. Ok this might be a shot in the dark. But do you know of a fic where basically it’s an arranged marriage (kind of) between lan zhan and trans (ftm) wei ying. It believe it is based on a reddit thread of a gay guy who got into an arranged marriage with a woman, but they actually are a trans man. Anyways…the reddit posts are deleted by now. But I remember reading this fic a couple years back and I can’t find it anywhere. Either it’s been deleted or hopefully someone else is able to find it 😭

FOUND? Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach by Khashana (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern, Arranged Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, fake married, Sort Of, Rule 63, Trans Woman WWX, Partial Cisswap, implied background/societal homo/transphobia, But nothing overt, background LXC/Qin Su also in a marriage of convenience way, gender euphoria, the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with your spouse, based on that one reddit post, Light Angst, Light Pining, this fic is soft mostly) I think #1 might be this one, although wwx is a trans woman in it (it's a wlw wangxian AU) rather than a trans man

~*~

2. Hi!! I cant remember if I already sent this or just thought really hard about it 😪 Im looking for a modern AU fic where WWX is dx'd ADHD and he and LWJ slowly start a relationship. The scene I remember most clearly is there being fireworks and it send LWJ into a meltdown. Ether just before or after the meltdown he found out LXC and LQR have been trying to get him diagnosed with Autism.

Xiao Xingchen is an adult psych who specalizes in neurodivergence iirc, and WWX helps make LWJ feel more okay w possibly being neurodiverse by talking about his experience w ADHD and Xiao Xingchen.

🙇‍♀️ thank you! @la-voce-to-me

FOUND! together, we're just enough by lulu_kitty (E, 134k, WangXian, Modern AU, Bartender LWJ, single dad wwx, Kid fic (sort of), Excessive Fluff, Yearning, neurodivergent wangxian, canonical parental issues, lwj in jewelry, accidental sugar gege wwx, Bottom LWJ, Service Top WWX, Bisexual WWX, Rich WWX, a-yuan is a wei but still also a wen, wwx is a-yuan's biological baba, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Slow-ish burn, Light Dom/sub, Brief LWJ/Others, Past WWX/Other(s)) sounds a lot like the happenings in chapter 8!

~*~

3. hey admins! i'm looking for a fic where wwx is from the modern world back and somehow goes back in time to the cloud recesses and spends some time there, and towards the end of the fic lwj goes back to the modern with wwx. (i also remember that wwx and lwj goes back and forth often visiting each others home) thanks! <3

FOUND? Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

~*~

4. This for fic finder. Its an old fic. Modern au focused on junior quartet. I dont know if the fic is several fic or in one fic. Junior quartet is in a club where they make a magazine (sorry i forgot the word both in my language and in english). They have an access to a school forum. LJY found an old forum talking about wangxian. Like the people in that forum failed to make wangxian happen in the past. If i remember correctly, they tried to matchmake wangxian. They ask LWJ to accompany them to yunmeng. In yunmeng, there are big festival happened there and they meet the jiang family in second floor of the restaurant to watch the festival from there. I think the jiangs is a respectable family that many people know them. So long story short, they manage to matchmake wangxian. I dont know if LJY release the news to that old forum or someone did. Just that LJY have an inkling the account that helped them is NHS. I dont know if this is important but LJY username has connection to chicken. I think thats all. Thank you @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! Operation Old Men by Chiharu (Not Rated, 37k, WangXIan, JL & LSZ & LJY, JYL/JZX, Modern, Boarding School, Single Parents, Everyone Is Alive, Matchmaking, Family Dynamics, Hospitals, Meet the Family, Family Vacation, Weddings, School Reunion, Happy Ending)

~*~

5. this for ficfinder! i need help looking for a time travel fic wherein established wangxian travel back to their teen years. iirc wwx and lwj writes to each other in secret and wwx invents talismans to give to the jiang sect so that he can repay his debts and leave the clan when he is at a certain age. lwj also leaves (??). i think they become rogue cultivators tgt. im pretty sure i have this downloaded but i cant find it from hundreds of fics bc i cant rmbr the name 😭

FOUND! Trials of Time by Muggle_Diary (E, 32k, wangxian, major character death, underage, time travel, not jiang friendly, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, butterfly effect)

~*~

6. Hello!! So i think the fic got deleted but all i can remember was wangxian had mythical creature eggs? Like they had a dragon,tiger,snake&turqoise and phoenix and they can talk telepathically at first then they can shift to humans later on!Thank you again so much!!!!

FOUND? For #6 with telepathic creatures, I haven't read the fic, but could it be that magical marriage ribbons series?

FOUND? #6 is My Immortal. I can't do the link on I'm my phone. It has the mythical beasts.

~*~

7. Hii, I'm looking for a fic in which lan zhan goes to a party with lan xichen and then keeps going to the same house where the party is at many times and hangs out with wei ying on the basement sofa

~*~

8. hii!! i recently read a fanfic where wei wuxian can't sleep because he gets horrible nightmares, there's one particular scene where the juniors are practically dragging him into cloud recesses, and he's falling asleep whilst walking and they meet with Lan wangji. if you could help me find it, that would be super great !! @spaaarkie

FOUND? hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, wangxian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

~*~

9. I thought I had subscribed to this fic but I guess not... Looking for a WIP in which WWX is ambushed in Yiling, but he has A-Yuan with him so he's extra desperate in trying to fight the attackers off. There might be fire involved? Either the title, the description or the tags have some reference to "hysterical strength" (maybe! not 100% sure about that one!). Thank you. 🖤❤️ @linderel

FOUND! Hysterical Strength by covalentbonds (Not rated, 3k, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence, Inspired by a Bollywood movie scene, Everyone Lives/Nobody dies, Parent WWX)

~*~

10. hi!! i'm looking for a fic i read about a year ago(?) on ao3, where during the cloud recesses study arc (i think?) lqr and the other teachers notice that wwx's basic education is lacking and wwx says it's because yzy doesn't let him join jc's lessons because wwx is supposed to be a right hand man and his education is therefore less important, so the lan elders and scholars all team up to give him remedial lessons; i think there's also a part where they build a case against the jiang sect because the sect scholars failed their responsibility to teach their disciples equally. the fic holding shreds by barisan reminds me of it a little bit, but instead of yzy's physical abuse of wwx the one i'm looking for is all about the emotional abuse and education inequality

FOUND?🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting) in this one, Xichen is speculating that WWXs education was stunted, especially in sect etiquette, deliberately by mme yu.

FOUND?🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad) in this one the lan sect does the scholar case thing where they accuse jiang sect of failing their duties by neglecting to educate wei ying.

~*~

11. hi, i'm looking for a fic which i found on twitter but im sure links to AO3 — basically everyone in the universe is some sort of animal (wwx is a fox, lwj is a dragon?) and they're classified by their mating cycles (whether they mate for life or seasonally). wwx and lwj gets engaged but lwj calls it off as wwx is a fox and therefore mates seasonally vs his for-life situation. wwx gets sad about it and then they find out wwx actually can mate for life! i used to find it easily before but for some reason no matter what i search, it just won't come up and i don't think i was logged into ao3 at the time i read it either. hope someone remembers it as well, thanks!

FOUND? what you have tamed by lianhua_lianzi, Senforza (E, 94k, WangXian, Animal Traits, misunderstandings, Courting Rituals, Pining, Lan family dynamics, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Wangxian break up but get back together, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied Mpreg, Unresolved Sexual Tension, unintentional and eventually resolved “gaslighting”, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX)

~*~

12. Hi I’m trying to find a fic where jiang Cheng is being forced to get married/find an heir. I remember that a member of YunmengJiang approached him with a list of members of the sect that would leave if he didn’t get an heir. I think it was mentioned that people were okay with him not having getting married since they assumed Jin Ling would inherit and Jin Guangyao would have another child but once his crimes were revealed they started to pressure him.

I know it wasn’t a Jiang cheng/lan Xichen or jiang cheng/nie Huaisang

FOUND? Karma by such_stuff_as_dreams_are_made_on (Not Rated, 2k, JC & OCs, Post-Canon, Arranged Marriage, Light Angst, Minor WangXian, Not JC Friendly)

~*~

13. I’m trying to find this fic where Wei Ying is looking for spouse for some reason and he starts asking everyone in Cloud Recesses but Lan Zhan even ask LXC to be his partner right in front of LWJ

If you have an idea about what I’m talking about thank you!!

~*~

14. so theres this fic in which jiang cheng and wei wuxian sit in a boat in jiang cheng's memories and wei wuxian sings a song that he altered slightly. im pretty sure it was a reconcilliation fic but im not sure but jc was a bit emotional. i can't find it, please help!

related to the previous ask, what i described is also only a scene from that fic and probably not what the entire fic is about. i only remember that one scene. @theartisticdoofus

FOUND? sing to the clouds in summerby stiltonbasket (G, 28k, JC & WWX, JC & JL, wangxian, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, 13k words of JC figuring out that LSZ is his nephew, ft. LXC and NHS the overprotective uncles, and LWJ giving JC death glares, Family Secrets, Reconciliation, Sad JC, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Podfic Available) the song is in chapter 4

~*~

15. Dear FicFinder Team, here I am again with only vibes and one scene. It was a WIP CQL post-canon fic, set during WWX's wanderings. At some point he exorcises a ghost in a tower (not one of the watchtower fics tho) and the last scene was WWX on his way back, kneeling in the grass to make offerings to his shijie and finally letting himself cry about her death. Maybe there were food descriptions too, I read this very early on and cannot find it in my history. It was exquisitely written too. @kinoumenthe

FOUND! the earth remembered me by remux (T, 30k, WIP, WangXian, POV WWX, Post-Canon, Emotional Edging, Letters, emotional support strangers, Original Character(s), lwj's quiet devotion)

~*~

16. Do you know the name for a fic where WWX is invisible (for some reason) and is in LWJ room (for some reason) and WWX watches LWJ hump a pillow but then LWJ notices that someone is in the room with him yada yada they have sex i forget when it gets revealed that it’s WWX

NOT FOUND! Mak Siccar by therealandraste (E, 20k, WangXian, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Misunderstandings, Pining, Happy Ending, Paperman smut - only god can judge me, Original Character Death(s)) the details don't exactly fit but

FOUND! Clinomania by malkinmalkout (E, 6k, WangXian, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Somnophilia, misuse of talismans, PWP, Riding, Oral Sex, binding, Happy Ending, canon typical non-con)

~*~

17. hello I'm looking for this twitter threadfic written by cerbykerby where wwx is a mermaid captured and brought in for studying by scientist lwj and others, and they eventually become mates. i've tried looking through their account for it but the fic is old and the search is way too far down, and i can't find the full fic. pls help out thanks!

FOUND? this is the unrolled threadfic by cerbykerby, I think

~*~

18. Hi! First time requesting something like this, but I really need help finding this one fanfic. It’s a incomplete wangxian fanfic and the summary of what I remember was that when WWX wakes up in MXY’s body after thirteen years, people are actually praising YL WWX because somehow (I cant remember how) the truth behind his actions and why he did what he did in the first place. JC faces some hate from the cultivation world, JL doesn’t hate WWX, and LWJ is extremely protective of WWX. Hope all this information helps!!! @nikki-g-m

Could #18 be that fic where a painter/theater guy did an interview with drunk wwx during the burial mounds arc and then it got published after his death so that when he resurrects its's all settled already (?). I dont remember the name either but maybe someone else will

FOUND? 💖 The Ballad of Hanguang-Jun and The Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 40k, WangXian, ChengQing, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Arc, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Humor, musical theater?, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider, Crack treated seriously) The commenter on 18 was thinking of The ballad of Hanguang-jun and the Yiling Patriarch, though idk if this is the fic OP wants

FOUND? i think its deleted? Have You Heard Of The Yiling Patriach by R_PONTS

~*~

19. literally just reading a random wangxian fic when I I remembered this one fic I read a while ago. I can’t really remember a lot of details but from what I remember Wei ying is the cloud recess for whatever reason and he get the silencing spell out on him and he panicked and starts scratching and clawing at his throat and everybody’s watching horrified like please y’all help me remember 😭 @saintzx

FOUND?🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 56k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad) The clawing is because he's desperate to defend JC against LQR's (rightful) admonishing, after JYL told him he should've tried harder after being silenced on a previous occasion defending JC

~*~

20. Hello

Love your blog!

A) I'm looking for a fic where wwx was raised by WRH, but it is introduced with him being the one to raze Cloud Recess and starting ti flirt with a prisoner LWJ who's very much " bro, wtf" in his inner monologue.

He's bff w Xye Yang and at one point thinks of doing lwj favors

B) Modern au where wwx and lwj had been married, adopted LSZ and then divorced due to someone either framing wwx or LWJs fam pressuring him to it. Wwx still has visitation rights and all, and at one point lwj buys them a house as an apology, but wwx is less than cash money above it, bcs lwj didn't truly fix the mistrust or whatever the reason for their breakup was @midnightlighthowlite

20B)

FOUND? 🔒 Life as a House by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (T, 55k, WangXian, Modern AU, Corporate Espionage, Post-Divorce, Father-Son Relationship, Reconciliation, Therapy)

~*~

21. Hello there, I’m not sure if this is a fic finder or an in the mood for, because I’m looking for a fic and more like that.

So you know how theres this TikTok Sound of someone called Nick who asks for the WLAN Password and its I Love You Nick and Nick is in a lot of denial about being lovers even though their anniversary is coming up?

I found a fic that was basically WY and LZ in a relationship, and WY/LZ (but more likely WY) didn’t realise that they were anything more than friends, and it was very funny.

More comedic than anything else. But I cannot for the life of me find it, and everytime I try and search for it, only the sad version shows up.

Please send help, I need to read this fluff….I crave it. @desperation-is-my-middle-name

~*~

#wangxian #wangxianficfinder #mdzs #the untamed #long post #wangxian fic finder

101 notes · View notes

the-writer-ofthe-fandoms · 2 years ago

Text

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen)(Ch. 1)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 3.0k+

Warning(s): Mentions of past car accident, mentions of minor character death/parents dying, swearing, implications of past bullying, mentions of high school lacking services, blood mention.

A/N: YAY i finally have this done. I’ve had this idea since before i started grad school and finally got it done! I hope yall enjoy :) This series takes place before Victoria’s army comes to Forks and Edward may be OOC but like, oh well.

Also in this series, Bella and Edward had a mutual break up w/ no hard feelings <3

Series Masterlist

---

"On foot

I had to cross the solar system

before I found the first thread of my red dress.

I sense myself already.

Somewhere in space hangs my heart,

shaking in the void, from it stream sparks

into other intemperate hearts."

--Edith Södergran, 'On Foot I Had to Cross the Solar System'

On one unfortunate night when you were seven, a drunk driver hit your parents car. Your mother on the passenger side died instantly, your father later succumbed to his injuries in the hospital. You were injured severely, but the doctors managed to keep you alive... At the cost of your voice. Chunks of glass tore through and stabbed your neck; the damage to your larynx was the worst, the second was nerve damage. You could speak in a very harsh, almost whisper-like, voice but it caused an intense amount of pain. You were upset. You hated that driver for what they took from you.

Your aunt and uncle took you in, and were able to help you adjust as you grew. They learned and taught you sign language, they helped you cope with the loss of your parents as best they could, and were always supportive. Despite their work lives keeping them away, they always tried their best to give you attention when they had the free time.

You found ways to enjoy life again, particularly in the stars. They were almost comforting to you when you were alone, looking out your bedroom window. You weren't sure why you have such an affinity for space and what it holds. Maybe because your father brought you out at night to point out all the constellations and their stories. Those moments with him started your interest. And now, you believed your parents were amongst the many stars in the vast universe.

You grew content with not having a voice. You adapted and overcame the curveball life sent your way. You just wished the pain wasn't constantly lingering.

---

It was the day you started going to your new highschool in Forks. It wasn't ideal transferring to a different school, but your uncle's job called for it. He was a firefighter and he was offered a sizable pay increase and rank promotion to fire captain if he took up the position for the Forks station. Your aunt, a nurse, was able to transfer to Forks hospital. They discussed the idea of moving with you of course, and you not wanting to hinder your uncle's promotion or damper his excitement, you supported the move from California to Washington.

You could already tell this rinky dink school wouldn't have anyone that understands ASL and the school said they are still looking to hire someone to be an interpreter of sorts, so you were mentally preparing yourself for the mess you may be entering. At least you transferred only three weeks into the new school year, that would make any school work you needed to catch up on relatively easy. It also helped it was your senior year as well.

As soon as you got out of your car, all of the heads of the student body snapped in your direction. You guess they've never seen a new kid before. You make your journey towards the building, hoping that no one would bother to talk to you. You already saw a teen walk up to you, he had straight black hair and a toothy grin.

"Hi, I'm Eric. You're the new kid." He seemed friendly.

You offer a little wave and sign, hoping he would get the inclination you could not speak.

"Shit... I don't know sign except..." He gave you the sign sorry before pointing to his ears and back to you. You shook your head and tapped your throat. "Oh! You can't speak." You nodded. "Sorry about all the confusion. Welcome to Forks High, home of the Spartans. I'm pretty much the eyes and ears."

You simply nod along when necessary and smiled as he gave you the very quick run down of most of the immediate gossip of school, which was centered around you, the new kid. He seemed like a nice guy but glancing at the clock you passed by in the hall you knew it was close to your first class.

"And don't get me started on the Cul-What?" You interrupted him as you held out your schedule to him, pointing to your first class. "Oh yeah, guess class is starting soon. Lets see... you're in 103 for English with Mr. Baker which is..." He glanced up. "Right down the hall. I have History right next door."

You smile at his help and follow him through the sea of students.

You wave Eric goodbye and enter classroom 103. You felt eyes of everyone land on you, but none more eye-catching or captivating as the gold pair near the back of the classroom. His gaze was intense, eyes wide, as he stared at you. You held his gaze. You weren't sure what to think at the moment but before anything could come to mind, an older gentleman walked in and stole your attention. You assumed correctly this was Mr. Baker.

---

Edward was the first to arrive for his first period class. He was always punctual, but there was a difference now. He no longer had Bella in tow.

It was a mutual end to their quick relationship. While her blood did appeal to him greatly, the fastness of their relationship hurt them both emotionally at the end. It was purely fascination of each others beings that they mistake as something else. While it did hurt, Edward could admit to himself he wasn't distraught over it. They remained friends and he was content with that.

Slowly, other students began filling the classroom as the clock ticked on. Everyone filling seats they usually sat in despite there being no assigned seating. No one ever sat next to him, often feeling intimidated by his status as a Cullen. The vampire paid them no mind, occupying his attention to watching the typical Forks rain traverse down the window he always sat by. He tuned out everyone's thoughts the best he could, letting his usual melancholy about his nature linger in his mind.

Edward perked up when he heard an fast-beating heart breakthrough his attempts of zoning out. Shifting his focus to the doorway his eyes latched on to the new student.

You.

It didn't take reading thoughts to feel the buzz of a new student arriving in the small school.

He felt... strange. Much like with Bella, your scent invaded his senses and made him thirsty, yet, that wasn't what caught his immediate attention.

It was the eyes. Something about them captivated Edward. He wasn't sure what about them had him staring at you, who now stared back at him. The vampire attempted to discern your thoughts and he caught an inkling of curiosity starting to bleed out before the teacher took your attention away. His stayed on you, and didn't pay him any mind or had any idea he wad, and focused his enhanced hearing on the conversation.

"Hello, new student?" The teacher greeted and softly spoke your name. The auburn haired male watched as the you nodded.

Edward's curiosity peaked when he finally heard their thoughts, clear as the days outside of Forks.

"Yes, that's me. Do you know sign?" He heard their thoughts as he watched their hands easily relay in sign language. I'm expecting a no they internally sighed.

"Oh shoot I wasn't told..." A worried look passed on the teachers face as his sentence trailed off. Edward can hear his thoughts complain that the school failed to inform him about the new student outside their name and grade. A look of exasperation briefly flashed on your face.

Who would of fucking thought Forks High, a small-ass school, would not inform their teachers. Fantastic. Wonderful. I love it. It was a pointed statement that had Edward both mildly shocked at the language and pretty amused. I wonder how much others outside of Eric will put up with me here.

Edward sighed. He knew he shouldn't involve himself with another human but he couldn't help it. Whatever captivated him and the resignation you mentally expressed already had moved him. He got up from his spot and quickly moved to the front of the classroom.

"Apologies, I don't mean to cut in but I know sign."

---

You blink at the golden-eyed student he approached you and the teacher. You felt a grateful smile tug on your lips as you faced him. Immediately, you felt some appreciation and felt good about being wrong on your previous assumption.

"Thank you, Edward." Mr. Baker smiled in relief. Edward gave the teacher a small, tight lipped smile at him and faced you. The teacher introduced you to him. "And this is Edward Cullen."

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience." Edward spoke as you signed, his voice soft and velvety. Observing his face, you watched as his brows furrow at your statement, which became almost a second nature for you due to the way your previous school treated you. You often faced irritated glances or your existence ignored entirely outside the feo close friends you accumulated.

"Please relay to them-" Mr. Baker spoke but you immediately shook your head and held up a hand.

"I am neither deaf or hard of hearing, sir. I just can't speak." Edward translated for you again. "I look forward to class with you both." A smile appeared on his face again.

"You too. And you aren't being an inconvenience at all. It's the fault of the school, really." Mr. Baker offered a kind smile. Edward left the two of you, as if knew he wouldn't be needed again. "Take a seat wherever you want, I don't do assigned seating unless it becomes an issue." Mr. Baker gave you a kind smile and gestured for you to pick out a seat, while he moved to the classroom computer. You take a glance around, only seeing three spots open.

Your eyes landed on the one next to Edward, causing you to perk up. Though, you hesitated, his small smile and the single, subtle nod assured you it was fine to sit by him. Holding your backpack strap a little tighter, you move between desks to join him.

---

Edward watched as you sat next to him. You offered him a quick smile before you started pulling out your notebook and your small pencil case. You didn't look over at him as you stared up at the board, waiting for class to start.

The vampire was curious and while he knew it was an invasion of privacy, he couldn't help but try and focus in on more of your thoughts. Except he was met with...

What? His brows furrowed. Edward felt overwhelmed for a moment, his sense felt almost deprived as he tried peering in your mind again.

Edward suddenly saw what he perceived as a galaxy. Stars, planets, moons, a sun... it was vast and it was breathtaking. It wasn't something he never saw before, this detailed, in a humans mind. He was able to view this scene for just a few fleeting moments until he suddenly felt warm energy push against his mind.

The vampire blinked. His presence was back in classroom 103. He glanced toward you. Paying close attention, he didn't see anything that indicated you were in any way aware of what just occured. He heard the teacher swear under his breath as he attempted to get the projector working, and used this moment to speak with you.

Softly, he called your name, bringing your attention to him.

"How are you liking Forks?" Edward recognized he was a bit awkward, but you gave no inclination that you minded or judged him.

"It's wet. But I don't mind it. The scenery is nice." You signed and it was as if the cosmos that warded him from your thoughts was lifted. Hearing your thoughts again after being blocked out by the cosmos left him perplexed and curious.

"Forks does have its charm in scenery." He chuckled. "But I assume that isn't why you moved?"

"No, but it definitely is a bonus." You smiled. "My uncle got a promotion so we moved up from California."

"What does he do?"

"He is now the fire captain here."

Edward had a kind smile and offered a small congratulations to him. He then spoke again, "What does your class schedule look like?"

You reached into your zip up hoodie pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, you slid it to his desk. His golden eyes scanned the paper and he felt some sort of happiness that your schedules almost align completely. The only class difference was your last two classes, which would have you taking gym and history without him.

"Looks like we will be seeing each other a lot. We have almost all the same classes."

That's a relief. Edward suppressed a smile at your thoughts. I hope we can be at least friendly with one another.

"Since we have most of our classes together, would you like to be friends?" He asked. He could already hear Rosalie scolding him for getting involved with another human, but he didn't particularly care what she would think.

You were another anomaly to his, otherwise, stationary life. He has no plans to try and initiate a quick romantic relationship again. He simply was curious to the stars that lingered behind your eyes.

---

It was nearing lunchtime. You glanced out the window of your math class while the teacher closed out her lesson and began explaining what the homework was going to be. You were very grateful for Edward sticking by you in each course. He was able to help you talk to your teachers, answer and ask questions, and made Forks high a little more welcoming.

You had met two of his siblings in that time frame, Emmett and Alice, who were both a delight. Alice already expressed how much she was excited to finally get to know you, which you assumed she was wanting to meet the new kid, and Emmett offered to watch your back in gym with the biggest grin you've seen on a persons face. It also warmed your heart to find they also knew sign too.

The initial worry of being a forever outsider like before began melting away. So far things have been pleasant unlike your last experience.

As you mind wandered off to old school memories of bullies and loneliness, you were still unaware of Edward trying to discern your thoughts again. You missed the look of confusion and frustration on his face. Although, you did manage to hear him make a noise that sounded like frustration, which snapped your attention on him.

"Everything okay?" You ask him. He glanced up at the teacher who was now facing the board writing the homework down.

"Just... wanting class to be over." Edward gave you a tight lipped smile. "Mrs. Johnsons' classes are usually a bore."

You nodded with a smile and silent chuckle.

The class bell rang, signaling an end, and practically everyone ran out for lunch. You eyed the crowd trying to leave and shrug your shoulders. You scribbled down the equations Mrs. Johnson assigned before putting your class materials away and preemptively pulled out your brown bag lunch.

You glanced to Edward while you both stood up. You weren't sure if you should continue sticking by his side until it was time for your last two periods or find your own corner to decompress. Perhaps giving him a break from-

"Are you ready?" His soft voice cut through your thoughts. You blink, pausing for a moment, before nodding.

"Lead the way." You smiled, though you were sure it came off as nervous. There will be so many people...

"Would you like to sit with my family and I, or would you like to go somewhere quiet?" You looked at him a bit shocked, were you that easy to read? You could see the twitch of his lip like he was going to respond but he kept quiet.

"Somewhere quiet, just for today."

"Follow me then."

---

Rosalie sighed as she leaned against the table, waiting for her siblings to join her and Emmett for lunch. She then looked to her partner and leaned against him, who laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Her golden eyes followed Bella's form with a glare as she sat down with her friends.

"Come on, babe. Her and Edward have no hard feelings." Emmett spoke in a quiet tone.

"It's still a danger to us." She grumbled.

"Nope! She still becomes a vampire like us." Alice suddenly sat down with a bright smile. Jasper was quick to sit down next to her.

"Even after what happened with the Volturi and James?" Emmett asked.

"Yep. While the course of her and Edward's relationship definitely changed, she still becomes a part of our clan."

"Great." Rosalie rolled her eyes and then glanced around at the table. "Speaking of Edward, where is he?"

"Probably off with the new kid." Emmett smirked. "They seem pretty nice. Edward's been helping them since they can't speak."

"Another human?" She looked to her partner then to Alice. "Did you..."

"Have a vision of them? Yes. The day before Edward and Bella parted their romantic relationship, I had a vision of them coming to Forks. And then after meeting them, I saw them and Edward, looking pretty close." She smiled and giggled.

"Great, another human who is going to choose to be a vampire." Rose scoffed.

"Rosalie-" Alice's usually bright expression drops. Everyone at the Cullen table looked at her with worry as it appeared her eyes glaze over. Jasper immediately gripped her hand under the table as he could feel a wave of sadness wash over from her.

"Darling?" Jasper whispered.

Alice blinked rapidly. She looked to the others with a worried expression. "I... I didn't see the specifics but... It wasn't their choice."

It was silent between them. Rosalie's eyes were wide, Emmett clenched his fist under the table, Jasper tried his best to calm everyone, and Alice simply blinked and tried looking to the future again.

She could see you, crying and writhing as the venom from a bite on your arm took hold, blood all over you. Edward and Carlisle were right by your side, speaking. But she couldn't hear what they were saying.

All she heard was a high pitched ring.

And then the vision flashes a blinding white and she swears she could feel intense heat against her face.

She was back at the table again with her family. It was the same vision as before. Never had she seen such a bright light, heard such a noise, or felt anything like that from a vision.

"We have to talk to Carlisle."

#edward x reader #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen imagines #twilight #twilight saga #twilight x reader #twilight edward cullen #twilight edward #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #twilight x you #twilight x y/n #silent cosmos

630 notes · View notes

angara-mfrp · 4 months ago

Text

Wow, has it actually been another year already? Apparently so! And as such, we are now bringing you yet another ADZ Wrapped! For those of you who have been here since last year, you know the drill. For those of you who haven't, well...it's exactly what it sounds like!

This post is so long this year compared to last year that we need a readmore. Under the cut we go!

Our biggest change was probably the addition of three new mods: Vega (Mod Budgie), Laur (Mod Quoll), and Nox (Mod Magpie)! The need for new personnel just speaks to the success and growth of the group, and we thank you all for our chance to grow. And haven't they just done a fantastic job?

Next, raw data! Including the mod team, we are now up to 108 muns and a whopping 253 muses! That is far bigger than we ever could have imagined. Our largest Direction was Center, with 73 muses! Just behind it was North with 58, South with 46, West with 39, and then East with 36! To put things in perspective, our biggest Direction last year had 30 muses, and our smallest had only 6. Of course, Direction size doesn't necessarily indicate popularity. South Advocate Mikaves Bell, written by Owl, has been actively pursued by at least three different guys this year! North Advocate Vera Graves also seems to have some admirers lurking about, though the only one to have actively made a move is Randy Orlando, written by Sety! Poor guy, you tried so hard...

Our member base has also made a lot of progress in their Wave resistance! While we do have quite a few new arrivals, with 111 muses at Rank 0, we have 58 muses at Rank 1, 43 muses at Rank 2, 16 muses at Rank 3, 11 muses at Rank 4, and 14 muses at Rank 5! We'd also like to shout those who have managed to hit Rank 5 just this year: Arcade with Alcryst, Sami with Dan Heng, Katie with Hesperia Doshin, Lizard with Julian Zenith, Hansie with Kris Dreemurr, Lemon with Agent Eight, Crea with Nathrae Amatista, Soren with Neuvillette, and Mocha with Yusei Null! (I, Addison, also managed to hit Rank 5 with Musiea and Ronan Muir but y'all know I work from home. My ass does NOT need celebrating.)

While the majority of muses (200, to be exact) are 18 years or older, we did have quite a few young muses this year! 37 of our current muses are 17 years old or younger. And though they are small in number, the kids and teens have made quite an impact on the community! We've also seen a lot of Path development. Idealist continues to be the largest at 46, while Passive, Intellectual, and Opportunist all tied for the next place at 19 muses. Cynic is just behind them at 18 muses, then Contrarian at 14 muses. We have just one Dissenter, and that is Primrose Ossler, written by Oz! Currently, the Tormentor count is at 0...phew!

As far as things within the server, ADZ grew so much that we needed to add 3 more permanent IC channels, with 3 corresponding OOC channels! We've had a total of 479 drabbles and threads submitted! There have been 149 IC deaths, much to Vera's dismay. The fastest death was N, written by Edel, whose robot body just couldn't handle being in the lake! While humor is subjective, the mods found that Heavy Weapons Guy, written by Fish, had the funniest death. He was mistaken for a prop during the talent contest and killed by Spy, which led to an IC reenactment of the ever iconic "Heavy is dead" video! The golden pan incident was also suggested. We were also very chatty, with around 330,000 IC messages being sent this year!

This year has led to a lot of progress with lore and events. While Yden and its Cache were technically revealed in very late 2023, people didn't start going to Yden until this year! We also ventured out to Oure, a Cache in need of desperate help, which has now put power back into the hands of its people. We've had one exploration quest this year, to the Cursed Ruins outside of Yden, which revealed some secrets of the past and the debut of the mysterious "lifeblood of the planet"! Spooky...we also had our second ever mini event, where some of the Advocates went to a banquet with the "president" of Oure to learn more about why someone sent out a message asking for help. We did have three festival events this year, First Dawn on Yden's beach, Festival of Fortune in Oure, and then the return of Seven Nights of Fright, which took place across the three locations! However, we did have quite a chonky two-parter of a lore event with Casino Morale! Everyone worked to spy and gather intel in the first part, while in the second, everyone worked together to fight off an evil woman turned tentacle monster and protect those who were affected by her rampaging. We also introduced member-run events as a means of keeping people busy and giving the mods time to make lore and festival events as great as they could possibly be. The first was EVO Outbreak, run by Birb! The second was Dreamers, run by Lizard! The third, which is ongoing, is Seeming (Un)Seelie, run by Kira, Xeno, and Chii! We're glad we decided to give you all a chance to let your creativity really shine, and we can't wait to see what you do in the future! We also had SYNC errors galore, with the most entertaining ones being either the "affected users are dumb and friendly" error, or the "affected users are now tiny" error. Of course, we aren't sitting idly by either, and we very much plan to introduce more fun events and harrowing events this year.

We've also had plenty of funny moments brought about from events and user shenanigans overall! Alfred, written by Vega, dug two holes this year. One was for the sand sculpture contest, but another was just for enrichment. Many people fell into that hole! The emu race was also a lot of fun, with emus proving just how dumb they are in the most spectacular way. Nobody was as forgiving and appreciative of her incredibly stupid emu, Adderall, as Lumera, written by Arcade, but Jiaoqiu, written by Ike, rode to victory in the second race atop an emu named after his most hated ingredient! Cephalon Ordis, written by Laur, was dragged behind his emu in his trash can drone. He hated it, but everyone else loved it!

Humor, written by Wren, attempted to start a fight with a kangaroo...how did that go, again? Genuinely cannot remember if he won or if he got his shit rocked. Vash the Stampede, written by Stan, didn't have a great time with the emu costume contest, as his participating emu decided to wake up and choose violence despite his nice costume. Hermes, written by Twin, was a true innovator in the same contest! He used his god powers to turn into an emu, but he got caught, and he and Elise Liedl, written by Soleil, were disqualified. Of course, nobody suffered quite like Cecil, written by Max, during the maze race. When 56 relic frogs get loose in the maze, you cannot dawdle! Poor Cecil had to face all of that goo in a truly harrowing scene that was, unfortunately, televised.

This year also brought about our biggest drop day ever (maybe aside from when we opened), as well as expansions to all of the residential areas within the Angara Cache! We also revamped the quest and mutation systems to make them even better. So much has been done that listing it all here would make this post needlessly long!

Our point in doing this is to look back on our progress, what we've learned, how we've grown, and how much fun we've all had. Even if you weren't shouted out directly, please know that we appreciate you being here and we value your membership and your place within our not-so-little-anymore group. We're thankful for all of the adventures we've had with you this year, and we hope to have many more with you in CY1025!

And, just in case you haven't been directly shouted out? Here are some highlights from our legendary moments channel.

#adz misc.#discord mfrp #discord rp #discord roleplay #mfrp #multifandom rp

18 notes · View notes

goldthorn-archive · 9 months ago

Note

19 and 24 for benny x the vandals i’m not sure if your taking prompts for them but kinda like the idea of the vandals reassuring benny and making him feel comfortable

prompts / thank u for this omg i hadn’t thought of benny for that prompt list but! u are so right! had to stop after i got to 24 bc this is gonna get too long but dw, def gonna work prompt 19 in once they’re at the bar w the rest of the club. wasn’t originally gonna start this scene here but u made me Think. also just realised this is only benny x johnny but, the rest will join in by the time i’ve finished this!

Johnny wasn’t sure how Benny was going to react. The shopping bag was on Benny’s bed, and what with the pink tissue paper and the loopy cursive on the side, there’s no way Benny wouldn’t immediately know what Johnny was suggesting for tonight. And, really, it was a suggestion. Johnny wanted this, but he would not be disappointed if Benny said no. Actually, he’d be proud of Benny for voicing a boundary, something the kid really needed to work on.

Benny comes back from the bathroom and freezes in the doorway at the sight of the white and pink bag on his bed. Johnny’s sitting in the armchair in the corner, looking at him. He’s expressionless, and Benny doesn’t know what to make of it. He runs his hand through his just-styled hair, gulps, and walks slowly to the side of his bed.

The tissue crinkles loudly beneath his fingertips, and Benny’s breath hitches at the sight of pale pink fabric.

“Bought you somethin’,” Johnny says. Benny nods automatically, still staring into the bag. He moves the tissue paper a little more, sees the ruffled straps, swallows hard. With two hands, he carefully lifts the garment up, the floaty pink… dress? hanging in the air. It’s pretty, Benny notices, baby pink with black thread along the edges, a long thin black bow hanging down in the centre from the neckline. There’s no shape to it, really, but there’s also just — not much fabric. It’s hardly longer than one of Benny’s T-shirts.

“Thought you might look good in it,” Johnny says warmly, softly, as if not to spook Benny. All the same, Benny’s head snaps to the side at the comment, looking at Johnny with wide eyes.

“You want me to,” he pauses, “wear it?” Johnny nods, as if he was suggesting Benny wear a leather jacket or a different belt or something normal and not, well, not a dainty little thing from the women’s section.

“There’s something else in the bag too,” Johnny juts his chin forward, gesturing for Benny to take another look. Benny puts the pink — top? dress? he’s still not sure — down on the duvet and reaches a hand back in the bag. He gropes blindly for a moment, then feels a small bit of fabric and lifts it up. Benny looks down at the small loop of pink fabric, the elastic scrunched small in his hand, a little matching black bow. He looks at for a long moment and oh, he feels heat rising on his cheeks.

“Uh, ’s a garter,” Johnny offers helpfully, as if Benny hadn’t worked it out himself. He puts it down on top of the dress and looks back at Johnny. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, but there’s a weird energy thrumming through his veins. When Johnny had said they’d probably be going to the bar tonight, that it was a closed door night, Benny had put on his favourite jeans (the ones that slung low on his hips so the dimples of his back were visible) and a black muscle tank, had styled his hair all nice (knowing it would quickly be ruined) and he’d felt ready when he walked back to his room from the bathroom. He’d felt confident after rubbing some chapstick on his lips and trimming his moustache a little. Now — now he doesn’t know what he feels. His knees are a little shaky.

Johnny must notice this because he gets up and walks right over to Benny, puts a hand on his shoulder, fingers grazing the back of Benny’s neck.

“You don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice low in Benny’s ear, “There’s no need to rush — we got all night.”

#c writes #answered asks #crossdavis #benny x johnny #benny x the vandals #the bikeriders #drabble #benny cross #johnny davis #johnny x benny #honey you need it

22 notes · View notes

purplerakath · 3 months ago

Text

Cobra Kai S6 - Various Part 3 Thoughts

So I'm not going to go as far as saying 'it stuck the landing' because... it dropped a few things pretty hard, but it did much better than I expected. And at least did something approaching resolve some of my overall issues with the show.

The sorts of things I whine about whenever I post on this.

So please enjoy this rambly hastily cobbled together thing on the whole of it. Spoilers, obviously.

The most Important Thing (to just me)

Sam looked so good in the Cobra Kai gi.

...what? You thought it'd actually be important? I mean- it is, if your whole thing is 'failing to figure out how to conclude a fic where Sam is team Cobra Kai from the start.' But okay, okay, onto the real matters.

The End is the Beginning

So Team Miyagi Do (which in this case means Danny, Sam, and Robby) had the right lessons for it. If you really wanted Robby to win... anything, ever, I'm sorry. But the whole point, the whole thing, of Miyagi Do, is not fighting. Robby didn't need to win, he needed to know he could win. Sam... wasn't really fighting for herself anymore (once S4 and S5 resolved her threads with Tory she was there for Miguel and her dad, nobody else). And Daniel was trying to defeat an enemy that didn't really exist until he made it exist.

Which left only the characters with actual things they needed to fight for.

The Show isn't Miyagi Do

The pivot away from team Miyagi Do winning the tournament to Cobra Kai is one that only works because the show is Cobra Kai. And the only characters left with a thing they needed to prove were all the pinnacle of Cobra Kai.

Which isn't for themselves, for the record. Miguel knew who he was and what he can do. Johnny knew what his purpose was and where he needed to be. Tory knew she was no longer alone (although reminding her helped). And all three knew that those Iron Dragon assholes needed their kick teethed out onto the mat in front of everyone in this very arena!

I don't think they stuck the landing on Axel, balancing 'really is just a sweet kid' that 'happened to be weaponized by his sensei' but they got close enough. Wolf and Zara are entirely deserving of all that happened to them. Which helps, that of the three fights the narrative of fighting monsters was more in the latter two fights, Axel was just... there to be a punching bag for Miguel.

Old Couple's Explosive End to Marriage

So the Silver stuff is gold (pun I do not apologize for), his reason for everything, what's going on. Why he's doing this all worked. It's petty and dramatic and overblown and we love that for him. He's good, love it.

Kreese's sudden heel face was less believable largely due to less foreshadowing this season. There was plenty of it in earlier seasons showing he genuinely cares about his students (and expresses it in destructive bad ways). But this season it came out of nowhere after having him double down on evil.

That. Being. Said. Kreese's final act being to protect his student from Silver did work. He apologized to everyone, expected nothing in return, and died in a way nobody will ever really know. He doesn't get lionized in death. He just- at the last moment, did the right thing in the shadows.

Free Space: Demetri Sucks

We didn't get a lot of the rest of the cast for the finale due to... five episodes with a lot of fights. So naturally we let Demetri fail back into a relationship he blew up by cheating on her and he did nothing to win her back and I hate everything about this.

They never actually wrote this character learning anything about himself and I will be bad about it forever.

Plot Twist: Saying something Nice About Daniel

My other 'the writers do this so wrong' focus is on Daniel, and his 'do this my way and no other way' behavior (which the show never calls out and he never learns from). But he actually learned something once? Weird, I know, but it happened!

He hit Johnny with a Cobra Kai pep talk! He wore the gi, he went to Johnny's side of things and did things Johnny's way! That's way more than I ever expected from him! He even owned up to how much his emotions got hackled by the sign (in a throw away line but I'll take it!)

Odds and Ends

Sam/Miguel's romance stuff was sweet and generally good vibes. It was the right balance of grand gestures and practical 'teenagers moving on with their lives' to it.

Robby/Tory still doesn't work, largely due to it having a very poor basis two seasons ago. Their moment during the Zara fight was aces though.

Devon hugging Johnny after the fight was so wholesome, she'll be a great older sister to Johnny's daughter.

Hawk's hair was great, no notes.

The answer to Miyagi's backstory mystery was... fine? It didn't really do anything long term. It created a plot arc for Daniel he didn't need. But it ended on a message of ACAB so I'll take it.

Deepfaking dead actors is still weird and they need to stop.

The girls training storyline worked better than the boys training storyline, but at least the boys one included Robby being stunned how much his step-brother is more like his dad than he is.

So, overall...

It could have been better, but it could have been so much worse. I wasn't expecting Daniel to step aside and let it all fall to Johnny, to Trust Johnny.

The focus on Johnny getting his dojo at the end, loved that. So I'm pleasantly content with this.

#Cobra Kai #Cobra Kai spoilers #Johnny Lawrence #Show finally isn't Miyagi Do for five shining episodes #Needed more Devon Lee #Would have liked a Johnny and Tory scene #like- she is the most him of the students #so giving them a good moment would have given me LIFE #but I got her being an honorary LaRusso #which I will begrudgingly take #since Tory might as well be Amanda's daughter #Off color joke about Amanda now having two kids #because the writing did Anthony so dirty at all points #Also needed more Kenny #Did not need more Demetri

9 notes · View notes

yomiurinikei · 5 months ago

Text

the ask i got for this fucking SPLODED idk what happened to it… but! mido-do-do-dori!! :3.. she’s so silly to me i need to wrap her in a blanket

•FIRM red velvet supporter. #1 advocate. biggest fan. which is funny bc she prefers vanilla over chocolate

•likes sweets but has a low tolerance. they make her feel sick/jittery easy. which isn’t even a result of her disability (iirc it shouldn’t be?) she’s just sensitive to sweets

•kakeru always let her try all the donuts in the box if anything was new, then pick what she wanted, since he’d be having the rest bc she couldn’t

•an oddly particular eater in general. she’s just picky in Strange ways. BIG fan of crackers she has tons of assorted types.

•had short hair for a good while and liked it, but kinda affiliates it with a time when her condition was Really poor, so she’s grown her hair back out

•speaking of, has kinda thin hair. she’s a Wee insecure abt it but not enough to ponder haircare habits

•generally stresses a bit over her appearance, but gets VERY flushed if u call her on it

•the type who’s Curious abt makeup but too embarrassed to ask

•just a highly stressed creature in general to be so honest. making friends is Also rough on her bc one, she got so used to the social structures of the hospital, and two, poor girl has the yamaguchi scary expression curse

•likes fish. she’d really enjoy going to an aquarium to see all the types- but doesn’t have a particular fondness for big or colorful fish. lowkey finds minnows the cutest

•really likes the look of embroidery and wishes she could embroider well. just doesn’t stick with it, but she Does have more knowledge than your average person

•once got her thread so Miserably tangled she just slumped to the floor and cried. not projecting NOT PROJECTING

•would be really good at effectively Any instrument if she ever got the chance to try

•doesn’t even have perfect pitch or anything, but scales and harmonics and even just things like rhythm and tempo would just make Sense to her

•her aforementioned stress is a Big issue post tragedy. on the one hand, she’s way better at managing it- but consequences can get so high, if she loses it, it’s usually for good reason, which makes it hard to relax

•favorite method of self regulation is to try and tap her hand against her chest in time with her heartbeat (as she guesses it is), but she feels watched if she does this in public

•looks up to rei a Lot. rei coming in and saving the cast in 6.5 was something that stuck with her

•in her early days as an employee at the foundation she wanted to trail around after rei a lot, but that was Hard to pull off.

•her shadowing habits have worn off, but getting to work on something for rei + get commended by her still means a Lot. she’s very inspiring to midori

•(rei has Somewhat picked up on this. she’s too busy to do much w it but she is a bit extra kind to midori. will offer the last treat in the break room to her first)

•(…in a way, it feels to rei like a means of recognizing kakeru. she was in the locker when he tried to save kanata. she thinks a lot about what she would’ve done if she weren’t tied up, and what kinji could’ve chosen to do, and the things that kakeru did. she can’t try to step into his role, not for a million different reasons- but irregardless of her views on the afterlife, she thinks he’d be glad to know his choices are leading to more kindness for midori)

•Not the reason minako started trying to curb her addiction, but midori was the one who came up with using lollipops as substitute for the motions/ritual of it.

•keeps a few in her bag because she’s around minako so often

•…also admittedly Enjoys giving them to kids she sees (family of foundation members) though she grapples a bit with “…am i really encouraging them to take candy from strangers?”

•hm. i think as she grows older and gets closer with the 6.5 cast, she does get better about her issues with feeling like a burden/unhelpful….

•but she just feels sort of.. Aimless. she doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life or where she wants to go. a lot of those more common exploratory experiences in childhood were shot down by her illness

•midori needs to learn that it isn’t too late to try new things, and also that it’s okay to just do what makes her happy, there’s value in whatever she’s inclined to doing- but she’s not there yet. she has time to learn though

•for a while she tried to kinda shadow hikaru, but pretty quickly went from doctor -> diagnostic specialist -> receptionist -> “oh i am Not built for this”. hospitals just stress her out!! she doesn’t need/want to be spending More time there

•+ probably not the best for her health

•dog person with a preference for big dogs with long coats. usually too shy to ask to pet one on the rare occasion she sees one- ryutaro will Always without fail ask for her, as soon as he notices it. has shouted across the street “HEY CAN WE PET YOUR DOG ?” before midori spotted it before. she gets flustered, but is v happy for the opportunity

•kinda has eclectic taste, in terms of style/decor? curating an aesthetic never occurred to her. she’s Very content so i have no notes i fully support her!!!

•i think.. her relationship with her grief is just Weird. compared w ryutaro and kiyokas more normal bickering relationship, kakeru was like… sorta her best friend, tho she doesn’t realize it. he always looked out for her like a good big brother, but he also brought donuts to her hotel room and had fun passing time with her. she misses his presence in So many ways. doesn’t really feel particular survivors guilt, her biggest struggle is Regret. she wishes they had more time

•cries a lot the birthday where she turns older than him

•in non despair, i think she’d want to become a paralegal, but kakeru would try and dissuade her because of the stress. who wins the debate is up to you !

#dra #sdra2 #midori yamaguchi #6.5 squad #headcanons

6 notes · View notes

td-brick · 9 months ago

Note

I WANNA HEAR ABOUT JO

OKOK!!!! It's pretty late where i am so sorry for any typos or weird wording. I have a lot to talk about probably but first i'll elaborate on what i said in the other post about her being less willing to receive help. I dont think thats really just in relation to her and brick or even her and romantic relationships in general, i think it reflects in most facets of her life. Which idk to me is obvious looking at canon but jts also interesting to think about why shes that way. I think she already wasn't super sociable even before that (autism to me.. she was a micromanager and very bossy/blunt/direct/etc when interacting w other kids) but i think also being a competitive athlete she started developing the "every man for himself" esque idea in her head. Especially combined with the misogyny she would have faced as a girl going into a very guy dominated profession/hobby especially one that's considered more masculine at that she would have started to be more self-reliant and detest working in teams and having to rely on other people for help or anything like that. I feel like this would have also lead to her developing the internalized misogyny we see she has in the show, she feels like shes not really allowed to like anything more feminine because it will lead to people not taking her seriously as an athlete. And also this leads me to some frequent thoughts I have about her although it's more me complaining about how other people perceive her. Hold on i wrote a thread on twitter about that I'll just put it here. There are definitely typos there but if it's hard to read I rewrote it with correct spelling in the alt text

And also the elusive google docs paragraph I wrote about her. This is pretty bad imo which is why i rewrote it entirely here instead of just copy and pasting this but 😭😭 i don't know maybe it adds more context to a few things so I'm posting it anyways

Also correct me if i'm wrong about any athletics/sports stuff I was guessing based off what i've seen but i haven't actually done anything related to that in like 8 years so

#Rj originals #Jo #Asks

15 notes · View notes

goldenfreddys · 3 months ago

Text

pt. 12

Again, that sweet, coppery taste lingered in Jeremy’s mouth for a moment after swallowing one of the pills. He took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. Was the tap water safe to drink here? He mulled over the thought while finishing the remainder of the mug he’d taken from a cupboard. It had a vintage pinup of a handsome, all-American man with the caption RISE & GRIND! on it. His fingers wrapped tightly around the pill bottle in his other hand. He suddenly felt grateful the bottle was unlabelled; it could be an emergency refill, as far as anyone could prove. It didn’t matter what was in them, he decided, as long as it kept him from dying of discontinuation syndrome until he could get his actual meds. He shoved the bottle in one of his cargo pockets.

Placing down the cup, Jeremy turned to the group in the living room and asked, “Alright. Where were we?”

Eugene had sat down in the recliner with Mike sprawled across his lap. Chucky was still sitting on the couch with Nadia in silence, staring at the floor.

“The gist is, Freddy’s got a history. Someone took those kids, and got away with it, and in terms of a motive…” Eugene suddenly seemed unnervingly solemn, “There's only one guy I know could've done it.”

“He's talking about William Afton, the co-founder guy.” Jeremy told Nadia as he returned to sit on the floor in front of her.

He remembered disliking the man as a child, which wasn't surprising given his disposition towards anyone he didn't recognize at the time. Surprisingly, it hadn't felt too different from his typical sense of stranger danger either.

William Afton had evidently left a more dire impression on the others.

Nadia hummed, “You guys seem really confident about that… Wasn’t there no conviction?”

“Only because the police force fumbled the investigation. Hard. By the time they started taking the case seriously, the floors had been bleached and scrubbed a million times over… Security footage showed someone wearing the Spring Bonnie suit lured several children into the back room, and… That's as far as the trail went.” Chucky said. His skin prickled with a familiar chill.

“Henry’s always been in denial about it,” Mike got up and resumed pacing the living room, “as much as I love the old man, there’s no one else it could be. Several months back, I went upstate to work at my father’s robotics rental company–”

“His dad is the killer.” Jeremy whispered to Nadia.

It was important to keep her filled in on the details, because she would actually remember them. In the past few days, it felt like he was struggling enough to keep track of the basics—‘where am I?’ and ‘what am I doing?’—that he wasn’t retaining anything else.

Surprisingly, by the time he wrapped up his train of thought, Mike was still in the midst of a long, exasperated pause. He continued with palpable annoyance.

“... I went to work for my father—the killer—while Freddy’s was being renovated. It couldn't have been a more obvious set-up, but he told me where to find my sister, Liz. Said I had to…” Mike pulled a thread free from his skin and let it unravel with a bitter huff, “Put her back together. So I did, just like he asked.”

Mike stopped pacing and stood with his back to the crowd in the living room. His head bowed, slightly, and he turned to face them again.

“Only cost my life to do it,” he muttered.

For the first time, Jeremy consciously studied Mike’s appearance. His skin was pallid and bruised-looking, webbed with silvery inset scarring that reminded him of the stretch marks Nadia often bemoaned. His face was gaunt, with a patchy 5 o’ clock shadow. Jeremy had seen plenty of scraggly men before, but Mike definitely stood out. His eyes, especially: yellow, bloodshot scleras, cloudy grey pupils. Jeremy had been too focused on not coming off as rude, before, to really look—even if it wasn’t, he still flinched and looked away when Mike caught his gaze.

“... What happened then?” Nadia asked, cautiously.

Mike shrugged, “I don’t know, I died. I like the way Chucky tells it, though.”

Silence. Chucky perked her head up, but didn’t respond. She seemed to be trying to gauge something as she scanned the room.

“... Are you really that mad at me? I thought you loved this part.”

“I was just trying to figure out if you were being sarcastic. Okay, let me think…” Chucky sat up taller and closed her eyes for a second, then eagerly launched into her telling of the event.

“Well, they say Mike didn’t seem any different when he came home that night. A few people had caught wind of some sort of incident having happened, you know- a disappointed parent or two, receiving a cancellation notice for an animatronic lease. Nothing too weird. But he started looking worse, over the next few days. Wasn’t acting like himself. Started smelling funny. A week later, he collapsed on the sidewalk, violently convulsing. Someone ran to help, but then… A tangle of endoskeletons wriggled from his decaying corpse and escaped into the storm drain.”

Frowning, Jeremy made a small, disgusted noise.

His twin took on a sort of theatrical cadence, as though telling a spooky campfire story, “And then the wickedest part… A couple days later, mid-autopsy, he got back up. And it was so, so metal that the sky opened up and the Virgin Mary herself descended on a lightning strike, crying tears of blood!”

“It’s true, I was there,” Eugene chuckled.

Just like that, Mike, Chucky and Eugene were back to joking affably amidst themselves. Queasily, Jeremy tried to purge the image from his mind of an endoskeleton crawling out of Mike’s dead body. It was just an overly dramatized version of events, he reassured himself. Things like that didn't happen—couldn't happen. Mike’s organs would've liquified within a couple days if he actually died. The bacteria in his gut would've eaten through his stomach relatively soon after death and then—Jeremy became suddenly aware of the layer of cold sweat developing on his skin. He blinked hard, trying to clear his head.

“Are you having a panic attack?” Nadia asked.

“No… Wait, yes. Sort of. Don't I take pills about that? I literally just took a pill about that, so why…” Jeremy laughed nervously, “Why so sweaty, Batman?”

Mike was looking at him, now. Everyone was looking at him.

“It’s his primal charisma syndrome. Makes him hotter and more funny for every hour of sleep lost, so we should get going before someone gets hurt.” Nadia explained as she stood up and grabbed her jacket from the side of the couch.

“My injurious swag,” he nodded.

“Your injurious swag, dude! C’mon, let's bounce. We can drop Chucky off, too.”

Even if Nadia framed it as a matter of convenience, he could tell she was more concerned with making sure both of them were alright than anything else.

Jeremy let Chucky take the passenger seat and got in the back. His heart raced, still, as a movie reel of gore-laden machinery churned in the back of his mind. He did a quick review of the situation—he was currently in a car with his best friend in the entire world and his not-dead sister. His current physician was almost certainly a serial killer. There was also, possibly, a body-snatching robot on the loose somewhere. Lastly, it seemed like Chucky had something she wanted to say, but hesitated to speak out of turn; this would've been known as the Fitzgerald maneuver, but it wasn't because those who knew it were very hesitant to issue a verbal acknowledgement.

After a long silence, Chucky spoke, “I know how he comes off, but Mike’s not really such a bad guy, deep down. And- and I'm not just saying that because he's my only friend! ‘Cause I have two, if you count Josh from the engineering forum.”

“Well, you've got two more friends now. That alright?” Nadia asked.

“I-I guess! I mean, are you sure?... Hold on, that's not what I meant to say… Can I take that from the top?”

“You can just, like, nod and smile. She's outgoing and decided she likes you, so uh- there's not really a choice involved.” Jeremy replied.

“Correct! Now, Chuckles, we know how Mike is… How do you feel?”

Chucky took a while to think about her answer. Nadia had started driving aimlessly in the pizzeria’s general direction.

“Completely lost.” She finally replied, “But I found you, Jeremy! That's a start. And then I'll figure out where the cord went for the orbital sander…”

There was a lull. Outside the rain-streaked car window, there were streets he used to know. At the edge of the road, where the pavement shattered out into mud and grass, there was the pothole he tripped on as a kid playing tag and scraped his knee completely bloody on the concrete. By the time they made it home, the blood had run all the way down into his sock. At the end of the cul-de-sac, the blackberry bushes Gabriel crashed his bike into while learning to ride had been cleared out and replaced by a duplex, though it looked like a few thorny vines creeping along the foundation were trying to regain territory. There were trails down to the pond he must've walked hundreds of times with his dad and sister during some distant, idyllic summer. Again, a feeling of deep, cold dread slid its fingers under his skin and shyly probed beneath his ribs. He had almost forgotten the father-shaped elephant in the room.

“… Hey, Chucky, would you keep this between us?... I mean, like, not tell dad I'm here?”

“Sure. It's not hard; I live with Aunt Jen, and he’s sort of a hermit at this point… Though, I think it'd mean a lot to him to see you again.”

“I know. I-I just don't think right now is a good time.”

Jeremy didn't know. In fact, he was pretty sure his father had forgotten about him entirely, judging by the years of missing child support checks. There were a lot of moments where he needed his dad to have his back, and they were all too far behind him to matter. The longer he could postpone bursting his old man’s bubble about it, the better.

When they arrived back at the pizzeria, a few cars had already shown up in the parking lot. Jeremy looked at his wrist for the time, only to remember that his watch was still tragically absent.

“Thanks for the ride. I'll catch you later!” Chucky smiled before hopping out of the car and practically skipping to the entrance.

“I've never seen anyone so excited to be at work,” Nadia snickered.

Jeremy replied in the tone of a cheery corporate advertisement, “Obviously you've never seen anyone heading to their job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, where fun and fantasy come to life!”

He pushed open the door of the sedan and stepped out to move to the empty front seat, then paused. The back door closed with a dull click and bounced ajar again. Freddy’s stood where it always had, lit in dazzling neon and crisp, new signage depicting the band across the front. Eyes still fixed on the building, he moved the seat belt out of the way, then closed the back door again.

“You okay?”

“I'm gonna head inside for a sec,” He answered.

At the entrance, the Marionette peaked its head to look at Jeremy as he approached, then pulled back out of sight. He pulled a suspicious face, but continued to the door. Though many things in life made him squirm with apprehension, he felt fairly confident striding into the haunted pizzeria. It looked overwhelmingly normal in daylight, after all. Glossy, bright and harmless. The images of being gutted by a robot had subsided, and he decided not to worry about it more; although, he speculated the sudden clarity was his meds kicking in at long last. The Marionette quickly drifted towards its box, then stopped and looked back at him.

“Okay, okay, I'm following… Don't get your strings in a twist,” Jeremy teased.

Suddenly, it darted into the prize box. From inside, a spindly finger extended, gesturing for him to wait as it rustled around. He wondered how much stuff it kept in there to warrant such a long rummage time. Eventually it popped out, holding a large, water stained cardboard box in its thin arms.

Jeremy raised a brow, “You can't give me stuff for free, that's favouritism.”

The puppet pantomimed a silent groan of frustration and extended the cardboard box again.

“I’m just messing. Let's see…”

Whatever its contents, it was heavier than Jeremy expected. He set it down, then opened it up. Inside, he immediately recognized the hollowed out Freddy head he'd been provided by Mike. Slightly underneath, there was his watch, and something rectangular laying flat at the bottom. Upon further inspection, it looked to be an etch-a-sketch.

“Huh… Thanks.”

The Marionette gave him a courteous bow and returned to its prize box. He wrinkled his nose at the mascot head. Something seriously needed to be done about the smell, he decided. Something with bleach.

#parmaverse #my writing #fnaf fanfic #changing the title format bc i cannot be assed to title all the parts.

4 notes · View notes

furby-science · 2 years ago

Text

The Sterling Saga: The Hardest Part is Getting Started...

I'm what the kids call a Scorpio/Sagittarius cusp. It gives me the worst qualities of both, but the Sagittarian ones are especially irritating. I can handle living a life of hermitude and psychological trauma (I'm missing out on a fireworks show as I type this). What I can't handle is constantly being haunted by the ghosts of my own dumbassery.

I know they're there. I anticipate them. I do everything I can to keep their rattling chains out of my halls.

...so you would think that, even with my tendency to get an idea in my head and then haul off and relentlessly pursue, I would at least have had enough sense to back up my talking furby on fucking Google Drives or something.

...I did not. Thus begins our next great adventure!

Let me give you a little breakdown of how Sterling works. His main computing system is a Raspberry Pi Zero W attached to a speaker and motor controller. His programming is stored entirely on a microSD card. This is the primary copy of his data. His old backups were stored on an old computer of mine which I no longer have, though the hard drive is still in my possession. I hope. I haven't gone through my moving boxes yet.

So, I can take two routes when it comes to retrieving Sterling's data: I can either go through a million boxes, find that hard drive, get an adapter, plug it into my wimpy-ass Lenovo Yoga and get to the data that way, or, I could pop Sterling open, pull out that MicroSD card, pop it in a card reader and back up the primary copy onto the Yoga and the cloud for safekeeping.

Both options are time consuming, but one of them is the fun kind of time consuming and the other is the boring kind of time consuming. So, I'm going with option 2. If option 2 ends in tragedy, I can still hopefully buy a new rig and do an emergency recovery of the data that exists on that hard drive. Hopefully it won't come to that - if I was smart enough to put him together, I should be smart enough to take him apart, right...?

"How in the hell did I do this...?"

After unceremoniously cutting open the zip tie and pulling off his fur, I was met with a sight I vaguely remember: the non-electrical wire that holds the bottom of his carapace in place, covered by insulating tape, and above that, the wires leading to his touch sensors.

One interesting thing of note is that the wire actually goes into his shell, rather than being wrapped around the outside of it. I have no idea why I did this. Surely, there must've been a reason. To keep the battery hatch in place when the hardware wouldn't fit, maybe? I'm not entirely certain, but why else would I take such an approach? Running that metal wire so close to the hardware is just asking to short circuit something otherwise, unless it was positioned just right.

I undid the wire with some pliers, and this is the part where I chickened out. I don't have a screwdriver well suited for unscrewing him, or needle and thread for his ears for that matter. Not to mention a MicroSD card reader (besides my phone that is). After suitably defiling him, I put the old man back together the best I could and made a shopping list of supplies for tomorrow.

The current plan is to get the necessary supplies and very carefully extract that card, ideally without harming Sterling's hardware. Though if I do, it's not a huge loss: I can easily replace aluminum tape or a speaker. I can't easily replace three months' worth of nonstop, agonized coding - or a friend, for that matter.

And so he sits, like a sleeping Buddha unfazed by the ever-shifting cycle of samsara while I scramble to purchase an appropriately sized screwdriver.

If only I could be so enlightened...

#the doctor speaks #sterling super furby #furby community #furby #allfurby

26 notes · View notes

webbedphantom · 6 months ago

Text

A Drabble Continuation from this thread here Featuring @caramialunaestelle's Aigis (w/permission ofc)

Mirror Match

Madicce Tower 30th Floor Ventilation Evening

‘Heh… piece of cake.’

This was hardly his first time breaking into a massive corporate headquarters to find incriminating evidence, but this was by far the easiest. The vent wasn't hard to find, there were no lasers or camera systems of any kind inside it, and it was incredibly easy to navigate. Almost like it was built for him.

Overconfident much?

‘Are you kidding? This is the freest infiltration we've ever had in our lives! It's almost like they're inviting us in!’

And that doesn't concern you at all?

‘Nah, you saw the news. They're moving to Osaka, of course the security is light. Besides, they have no idea we're after them. Quit being paranoid-’

His Persona responded with a huff, but quieted down. He still didn't like this, but Aaron had thought this through well enough before charging in here.

… So why did this still feel like a trap?

‘Bingo.’

They'd been crawling around in the air ducts for a while, occasionally catching a glimpse at the rooms below, though most of them were empty. Made sense, given the move, but he'd hazard a guess that the more complicated systems, things that you couldn't just buy in Akihabara to fill an office space would likely take another month at least to move out.

And he'd been right.

He popped open the vent and dangled down into a large dark room with a massive supercomputer. The kind of thing you'd see in cartoons and the like, which was kind of surreal to see in person. The room itself was cold, which was to be expected given the amount of coolant needed to keep the machine from overheating, but this was seriously overkill. The computer was on but seemed to be in sleep mode, yet the air was so cold he could see his breath, could feel his body start to shiver, and could already feel his strength being sapped from him. It was like being in a freezer set to the max, which was only heightened by his weakness to low temperatures.

He was starting to see what Arsène was talking about.

Still, he wasn't an amateur anymore. He'd learned a breathing technique to help keep his body warm, and aside from a few infrared cameras (which were utterly useless when he was in a room this dark. Thank you, Phantom Cloak!) there was nothing to stop him from getting what he needed and getting out before he got too cold.

He swung down from the ceiling, landing in front of the computer console, standing to the side as he woke up the screen to turn the brightness to low to keep the cameras from getting even the slightest hint of his presence, before inserting a flash drive with the head of an eyeless cartoon cat at the end of it.

‘Alright Alibaba… do your thing.’

Alibaba was the name of a codebreaker program that Futaba had developed for these types of missions, able to hack in and automatically copy any suspicious data in mere minutes from even the most secure of computers.

Yet somehow… the computer knew exactly what it was and responded.

A1I8A8_ver:2.18 detected the screen read out, triggering a loud ping to ring out from the speakers as all the lights flashed on.

“GAH!!”

“Phantom Spider Protocol Initiated. Connecting to “ZephyrKonoe” on Madicce Internal Communications.”

He could barely even process what just happened, still stunned by the sudden flash of the lights, once again worsened by having his third eye on at the time.

I warned you.

“Shut up…”

“Greetings, Spider… I've been expecting you.”

Konoe's voice played over the intercom, a voice he was somewhat familiar with, though laced with a sinisterly smug tone that sounded both unfitting and natural at the same time.

“H-how the-”

“I'm sure you have a lot of questions. I'd have been happy to answer them if you'd had the decency to schedule an appointment. But instead, I think I'll have to escort you out…”

The sound of a glass tube sliding open came from the back of the room, his vision finally coming back to see that a black figure had fallen to the ground and landed on its knees. A figure that was dressed rather similarly to him… but yet oddly without any spider symbols, or spidery imagery at all, instead replaced with these diagonal red lines all across the outfit, meeting at the head where he was met with a sleek metal face with a large T-shaped screen, somewhat reminiscent of a knight’s helmet.

“Connecting to Madicce Remote Play.”

The figure, which seemed to be some sort of android, then stood upright, the screen suddenly lighting up with two small, menacing red eyes glaring at him as Konoe's voice now came from within.

“I usually let E.M.M.A. handle the security systems, but for you… I'll make an exception.”

Aaron's lenses widened. What was that thing? How did he know he was coming?? How did he know all his weaknesses??

He shook his head, standing up tall with his fists clenched. He could worry about that later. Right now he had to focus.

“I’ll admit, that was a nice entrance. But if you think you're scaring me off with a bit of theatrics, you've got another thing coming.”

Konoe chuckled, his voice crackling out of the android's speaker. “Well, I suppose I'm no Batman.” He quipped, giving Aaron pause. “But then again, neither are you. So how about we skip the dramatic speeches and just start the boss battle already?”

“Fine by me!!”

He leaped into action, going for a right hook, but the android dodged effortlessly, catching him by the wrist and flinging him into the wall behind it.

Aaron recovered quickly, springing off his hands towards the left while firing a webline at the back of its head. Yet not only did he miss, but without even looking it managed to fire a grappling line from its wrist directly into his path, snagging him by the coat and pulling him in for a clothesline that he was just barely able to slide under.

This thing fought like him, albeit a bit more stiff in its movements. And somehow it seemed to know every move he made before he made it. How in the hell was that possible??

“Like my new toy?” Konoe taunted, chasing after him and throwing out a barrage of punches and kicks, all mirroring moves he had used before. “I call it an Adaptoid. It's been trained off thousands of hours of footage of you in action, and is able to replicate any move you made to perfection!”

That explained it. It must be running a prediction algorithm to figure out what his next move will be… except that didn’t make any sense either, especially the more they fought. Aaron kept trying to fight back, trying to block hits, but no matter what every punch he threw missed, while every punch the Adaptoid threw weaved through his blocks perfectly to land a hit. Every. Single. Time.

It wasn’t just guessing, wasn’t even an advanced prediction algorithm. Those could be wrong, could make mistakes, but this thing knew exactly what he was going to do and just countered it perfectly.

Was it reading his mind?? That couldn’t be it. Even if robots could read minds, Arséne would be scrambling whatever it picked up into nonsense. Plus… didn’t Konoe say he was handling this himself?? But he wasn’t even here! How could he be reading his mind from so far away??

“Can you believe this is only a prototype!? It already puts all your little trinkets to shame! Just imagine what the real thing could do!!”

That… that stung. And the worst part was he couldn’t even retort, it was taking everything he had to keep standing under this onslaught, especially in the cold. He needed to get out of here, get warmed up. Then at least he could have Arséne out here to give this guy something else to hit.

He stopped thinking, swatting the next blow away entirely on instinct and leapt back, clutching his side as he did so.

‘Definitely cracked a rib… maybe even two. And it’ll probably take a miracle to avoid breaking anything else-’

“What’s the matter? Giving up already?”

He didn’t respond, just taking a moment to catch his breath and warm up a bit before he made his next move.

“Ah, I see. The classic “brainstorm a way to win and make a desperate last attempt” play. You don’t actually think you can beat me, do you?”

No, he knew he couldn’t. Not until he figured out how to counter this “predicting his every move” shit. But he didn’t have to beat him in a fight in order to win. That wasn’t the mission, after all.

“You’re piloting a prototype, right? You can mimic my moves, but you can’t recreate my powers, can you? And I’m willing to bet-” His eyes flicked down to the android’s waist, noting the lack of a utility belt on its outfit. “You didn’t give it any of my tricks either.”

He tossed one of his electric spell cards towards it, which it dodged effortlessly, but that was only a distraction. His real move was to chuck all three of his fire cards at the large metal door behind him, colliding in its center to release an explosive Agidyne, not only knocking it down with a loud THUNK, but warming up the room and filling the air with mist.

“Why don’t we take this outside?”

_____________________________________

Aigis was patrolling the north side of the building as she’d been instructed to, flying around the upper levels looking for any signs that the Spider might need backup. All had been quiet so far, even on Labrys’ end down near the ground floors. Perhaps everything was fine after all.

She briefly considered landing on one of the surrounding rooftops for a lower profile, when she heard an explosion coming from inside. It was faint, muffled by the walls like it was from somewhere pretty reinforced, but it was definitely an explosion.

“Aigis to Labrys; I’m investigating a possible hostile inside. Stay on guard.”

She moved closer to the building and casually crashed through a window like it wasn’t even there. “I’ll keep you informed.”

_______________________________________________

“Clever. Very clever.” Konoe remarked, chasing Aaron through the building as their fight continued through the rest of R&D. “Not that it’ll make any difference. You won’t fair any better out here.”

The android was hot on his trail, Aaron barely managing to stay a step ahead by focusing entirely on his movement. No fighting, just running. Which was a lot easier now that he was out of that freezer.

‘Just gotta play keep away long enough to get warm, summon Arséne for support, then snap a picture of it and find some other evidence. Surely there’s gotta be something left around here?’

As if to answer his question, Konoe’s voice taunted him again, his smug tone really getting on his nerves. “There’s nothing to find out here! All our files and experiments are on their way to Osaka, and the only computer left in the building is the one you just ran away from. You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

‘Man, again with the mind reading schtick??’

“If you leave now, I’ll allow it. I’m getting bored of this game of tag. If Mitsuru wants to go against me, she should do it herself.”

He was starting to get tempted by that offer. Every room they fought through was empty, aside from a few now activated security systems trying to slow him down. Turrets, security doors, the works. And given his current state, it was going to stop him eventually.

He knew he wasn’t out of options. There was one thing left that he was praying would manage to get what he needed, but he wasn’t going to be able to check if he was putting all his energy into avoiding this damn faker!

‘At this rate, I’ll be lucky to even grab a picture of it-’

But just when he was starting to lose hope, something crashed down through the ceiling between them. Another android, but one he was really happy to see.

“AIGIS!!” He yelled out in delight. “The super fighting robot coming in clutch yet again!!”

The Adaptoid paused for a moment, Konoe letting out a huff on the other end. “I was wondering when she’d send you in. I was starting to think our dear Princess had underestimated me.”

Aigis seemed to recognize that nickname, her gaze shifting into a fierce glare in response. Something else that gave him pause for a moment, until he realized how much venom Konoe had added to the word.

‘Oh god, they really are exes-’

“Just buy me some time.” Aaron said, struggling to catch his breath, yet still determined to see this through. “I’ve got a mission to complete.”

“Affirmative.” Aigis responded, giving him the slightest glance over her shoulder. “Go. I will handle him.”

“Oh yes, by all means-” Konoe interjected. “Handle me.”

The two immediately began to clash, the prototype somehow managing to hold its own against her despite its incomplete toolset. But he couldn’t stick around to watch-

Aaron bolted off towards the computer room, dodging the turrets and other security measures as he made his way there.

‘Please still be on, please still be on, please still be on-!’

He rounded the corner past the collapsed door, out of range of the turrets. He caught his breath for a moment, looking over at the monitor which-

“YES!!”

The screen had glitched out, a small progress bar forming out of misplaced pixels with a number below it reading out that Alibaba had managed to copy 0.00018% of the data stored on the system. The computer was protected against an older version of the software, but this one, ver:2.20, had managed to find the slightest vulnerability in the code to get a foothold.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

He ejected it out of the console, an alarm blaring in the room as he made his escape.

“ALERT! ALERT! DATA BREACH IN ADAPTOID DEVELOPMENT WING!!”

“NO!!!”

Konoe screamed so loud Aaron could hear him from here. And he only got louder as he managed to get away from the anti-shadow weapon and bolted towards the Spider as he made his way to a weakened part of the ceiling to make his escape, smashing through it to get back to a section with windows. “YOU’RE NOT LEAVING HERE WITH ANYTHING!! IT ISN’T POSSIBLE!!!”

He was gaining rapidly, and in Aaron’s current state, he’d almost certainly catch up with him. But while the android was as fast as Aaron at his best… when it came to moving through cramped hallways, no one was faster than Aigis.

She collided with the Adaptoid, slamming it into a wall and firing her weapons at point blank range, finally managing to do some significant damage to the thing.

“Back off!!” Konoe shouted in frustration as the android backhanded her with all its might. “I WILL NOT BE SLOWED DOWN BY AN OUTDATED ANTIQUE LIKE YOU!!”

Aaron meanwhile finally broke through to the normal office spaces, spotting a smashed window at the end of the corridor.

‘C’mon c’mon, I’m almost there!’

But Konoe and Aigis soon burst through the floor behind him, still battling it out as the android desperately shot out its grapple line to try and pull him back.

Aaron barely managed to dodge it in time, ducking underneath it as the force of Aigis’s attacks managed to send it off course. He could still make it. They could do this.

He turned around, gathering curse energy into his hands as he crouched and aimed it towards the two, striking a pose he’d learned from the arcade.

“Aigis!!” He shouted, immediately catching his attention. “Uppies!!”

“Confirmed!” Aigis responded, digging her legs into the android’s chest before firing her thrusters at full strength to rocket off along the ceiling. Then, just as it made an attempt to grab her, Aaron fired a massive web ball to pin it to the floor.

“You- YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THIS!!” Konoe screamed, already beginning to tear through the webbing in a frantic rage.

The Spider merely smirked under his mask, sticking his hands up in the air for Aigis to grab as she passed, carrying them both at high speed towards the window.

“Hasta la bye-bye, sucker!!” The Spider quipped, giving the android a salute and a mocking wink.

But the android wasn’t done yet. It freed itself from the webbing in a matter of seconds, bolting after them even after they flew outside. Only to be met with a giant battleaxe slamming up into its jaw as Labyrs entered the fray to hold it off a little bit longer.

“OH C’MON!!” Konoe shouted, his voice crackling through the now broken speaker. “THERE’S ANOTHER ONE!?!?”

But that was the last they heard as they escaped, the Spider dangling from Aigis’ grasp as he was finally able to take a much needed rest. “Phew… thanks. I definitely owe you one for that-”

“You owe me two.” Aigis corrected, a smile on her face. “You still have not paid me back for last week.”

Aaron chuckled. “Okay, two then… After we report back to HQ, you get to pick the movie.”

__________________________________

Akira Konoe stared at the screen on his laptop with a perplexed look on his face. He was furious, yes, but also confused.

“He shouldn’t have been able to do that…” He said softly to himself, reaching out to shut the thing before leaning back in his chair. “He shouldn’t be able to change things yet,,, it’s still our past…”

His brow furrowed, hand moving up to his forehead to rub his temples. It didn’t make any sense. Thanos wouldn’t arrive until the end of the year, there should still be time before the timeline could be changed, and yet… somehow Aaron had managed to do what he never could. Even if it was a small change, he’d done it.

… but that worked both ways.

“E.M.M.A.”

Ping.

“We’re moving up our timetable. Tell the mobile division we’re launching the app tomorrow.”

“Understood sir.”

#Phantom Spider One Shots - Drabbles;#Phenomenal Tales - Year Two MV;#caramialunaestelle #for proofreading/brainstorming/lending her Aigis/cowriting this entire verse/being a very cool frog #in case you couldn't tell; this ain't the Akira Konoe you're used to #We've got so many plans. SOOOOO many plans for this #Striking at the Heart - P3 Present Verse;

2 notes · View notes