#anyway. this is where my mind goes when left to wander | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skatingbi · 1 year ago

Text

So hear me out on my headcanon guys:

Sanji with heterochromia (i cant spell that fuckin word man..) where one eye is blue and another is brown. He always hides the blue eye.

The first one to notice is Zoro, who is immediantly like "holy shit youre eyes are pretty" and sanji is like "what the FUCK"

Actually fuck it im gonna write about this nobody can stop me.

Sometimes, on lonley nights in the gallery, when Sanji is busy prepping, he looks in the reflection of his knife. Underneath the frizzy mess of a fringe that is part of his hair reveals the blue eye he struggles looking at. He stares, scrutinizing that light blue in the gleam of his knife gripped tightly in his hand. He looks away to force his attention back on prep work. His hands are always slightly unsteady after those moments. He always ends up with a cut on his hand one way or another on those nights.

When Sanji was a kid, his brothers would use his heterochromia as a weapon against him. He was the freak with two colored eyes. They would say his blue eye was creepy, too. Not only was he weak but also too different to be called their brother.

When you're a kid, you take these insults to heart. Eventually, when you're barely into adulthood, they'll still plague you. They become a part of you, just like how Zeff's teachings became a part of Sanji.

Judge looked at his eyes with disgust masked by indifference. It was another reason for Sanji to assume why he was the failure. The outcast. The runt of the litter.

His mother had blue eyes. She always claimed Sanji got his blue eye from her because her father had heterochromia, too. That was the only time little Sanji felt normal. When she died, Sanji started to grow out his hair to hide the only thing he had left of her: her eyes.

Now, Sanji still hides her eyes from view. Realistically, Sanji is fully aware that none of the crew would give a rats ass what he looked like. Regardless, old habits die hard. He feels safe under the mask he made for himself. As he goes about preparing lunch, perhaps grilled sea king again with how luffy is always eager to fight those things, he lets his mind wander to his eyes more. While hands expertly move through his knife like an extension of his body, he thinks about the mess of blond hair that's always in the way. He'd never admit it out loud, but his hair actually bothers him. Since it started growing out, it gets everywhere; his mouth, in his eyes, and tangled in the buttons of his shirt. Is sanji happy with his longer hair? Absolutely. It's a nusiance to leave it down constantly, though.

As he's thinking this, he's blowing the fringe of hair covering his face out of the way every so often so it stops tickling his nose. He continues to evenly slice through a portion of sea king meat until somebody, Nami he realizes immediantly, speaks up.

"Do you need a hair tie, sanji?" Nami asks sweetly. Her smile is radiant, as always, while she looks up from the map shes been studying. Sanji didnt even realize Nami came in and made the kitchen table into a study until now, but he doesnt dwell on it. Nami is welcome in his kitchen, after all.

"Oh no, thank you, Nami-swan! I think I just need a haircut soon," Sanji lies as he's moving through the kitchen. He gives Nami a quick smile before turning back to the meat on the cutting board and avoids Nami's gaze under the disguise of being busy. His lie wasn't as believable as he wanted it to be, especially when he's stumbling over his words while he is usually eloquent with them towards Nami and Robin.

"But until then, you should take one! I probably have hundreds lying around my room anyways," She says. It's a peace offering designed to be in Sanji's language of communication. It secretly says he's getting that hairtie whether he wants it or not, and Sanji is weak enough to accept the offering. He takes the hair tie with a grateful smile, wrapping it around his wrist and going back to his current task. Nami and Sanji work in comfortable silence after that, but the hair tie weighs on his wrist like a weighted bracelet.

A few days pass by. Through every single one, he stares at the hair tie in the morning. He really should tie his hair back. It reaches his shoulders for gods sake, and it keeps getting in his mouth - but that small part of him that clings onto grief like its all that he knows refuses to. He doesn't think he can bring himself to share the only part of himself that he truly loves deep down. What if the crew really thinks it's weird? What if his brothers are right?

These what if's roam in the back of his mind. They lurk just beneath the surface like an unknown predator hidden in murky water. He ignores it along with the anxiety that crawls up his throat every time he looks at his wrist.

Then, a week passes by. Now he's in his kitchen making a simple breakfast for his nakama. Franky, in particular, will enjoy this since his tastes lie within American style food most of the time. He focuses on seasoning the eggs, some of them cooked differently to cater to everyone's tastes. While he goes through the familiar and therapeutic motions of cooking, the door opens to reveal an annoying head of mossy hair and the steady noise of three swords bumping each other at the hip.

" Oi, go to sleep in your own bunk. I dont need you stinkin' up my kitchen while im trying to work." He utters without looking up from the stove.

"Why can't I just sleep here shit cook?" Zoro grunts. Sanji hears him shuffle around on the gallery's couch behind him. He's probably lying down, or maybe he'll sleep sitting up again, or maybe he'll watch Sanji cook. That's the most irritating one, which usually ends up with them fighting out on the deck one way or another.

"Because youre fuckin' annoying, get out."

"The hell I am, I'm taking a nap here."

"Oh my - You know what?" Sanji whips around to glare at Zoro, making sure the knife he was using is now in his hand to point at the source of his ire, "Fine, but if I hear a single snore out of you I'm kicking you into the ocean!" He threatens and turns around to finish up with breakfast. By now, all he has left is pancakes. The batter was prepped earlier, so now it's just focusing on pouring evenly. It's task that's menial but still important to him regardless.

His hair is covering his face too much. He tries to shake his head to flip it to the side. It falls back to where it was before he can pick the bowl of batter back up. He brushes it over his shoulder, and it simply flows back over it. He blows his hair out of the way, a classic move, but not even that works and he's slamming the bowl down on the counter before he can even stop himself and walks away from his work to grab the hairtie from around his wrist. In a few fluid motions, he ties his hair back haphazardly into a poor attempt at a low bun, but it's out of his face, and now he can focus.

He's too deep in concentration to even remember that he has heterochromia in the first place. Cooking lowers his guard unlike anything else in the world. The gallery acts like a safe space and cooking is his comfort. He still forgets, too, while calling for Zoro to get his lazy ass up to help since he's decided to loiter in his kitchen.

"Hey moss, if you're gonna laze around my kitchen, set the table for me." His request demand is met with a middle finger, which Sanji gladly returns as he walks over to the couch to kick Zoro on the stomach. The half asleep annoyance is now suddenly alert and glares at Sanji for a moment before it's quickly replaced with a look Sanji has yet to add to his mental notes he likes to call "Marimo Dictionary". Zoro's eyebrows are slightly raised, and his eyes glitter with something Sanji rarely sees. He's never been able to place a name on that look. Now he's confused. "What? Dont give me that youre tired crap youre not fuckin 10." He says.

Zoro is still looking at him, though, and now Sanji looks back with confusion because what the fuck is he-

Oh. His eyes.

Shit.

Sanji rips the hairtie out of his hair at light speed, probably pulling a few strands out by accident in the process but he could honestly care less when theres something more important. Like whatever the fuck just happened.

Before he can turn away and go set the table himself to distance himself from the marimo, Zoro's hand moves suddenly to grab his wrist, stopping him from running away.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Zoro pleads. And what the fuck. Zoro has never said anything like that and its fucking with Sanji's head because what the fuck. "You...uh." He continues in his signature graceless way. "Your eyes..." He pauses after that, sitting up and looking at Sanji, but not just looking, he's looking.

"Marimo," Sanji's own voice is riddled with anxiety with how shaky it is now. "Let me go dumbass," He demands but it could have been mistaken for him begging with how much he's struggling to keep himself together.

He's anticipating the worst. He knows what he's expecting. Sanji has experienced it countless times before, and he's aware he will again right now while a pancake is probably burning on the pan for all he knows.

It doesnt.

Zoro is looking at him still, maintaining eye contact but also darting between both eyes. He's looking at him like those golden eyes are looking into his soul and its too much.

It's too much because Zoro's response is uncharacteristically soft in so many ways. Zoro speaks to him like he's speaking with reverence, "Your eyes are beautiful."

Sanji shatters on the gallery floor there. His soul is bare for Zoro to see suddenly and that terrifies Sanji. Nobody has ever told him he's beautiful. Especially his eyes. He yanks his wrist from Zoro's grasp and speed walks to the stove to turn it off and remove the burnt pancake from the pan. He doesnt respond. He cant, not when his heart flutters when it should have been anchored down by rejection.

Then, Sanji walks up to Zoro, grabs onto both his shoulders, pushes him out the gallery door with surprisingly little resistance, and slams it shut. He leans against the door, sliding down until he's sitting on the floor with his head tucked between his knees. His face is burning and his face is probably red like a tomato right now. He stares at the ground with wide eyes and a weirdly giddy feeling in his chest and stomach nearly akin to happiness but also dangerously close to feeling freaked the hell out.

"What the fuck."

#Bro...I will make this a series on god #like man...writing the second half of this was SO FUCKIN FUN #Anyways sanji has heterochromia supremacy #zosan #one piece #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji being called beautiful is his gay awakening #and he's late preparing breakfast after that #he'll probably smoke an entire pack of cigs after that too #somebody help this poor disaster #Sanji has Heterochromia

769 notes · View notes

your-local-asylum-escapee · 5 months ago

Text

I'm pretty sure i was having a stroke whan i wrote this but eh idc

anyways-, i know for a fact that since merlin is an immortal among the mortal plane he tries not to get too attached to things but him being 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 and since 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 has a small amount of magic in them he really can't help himself and adopts a dog every now and then

at first he doesn't give them names cuz yk attachment issues AND he really doesn't know how to name it? UNTIL

one day he sees a dog wandering near a pub. At first he just kinda feeds him as he does most of the time he meets stray dogs but this one never left him alone and i mean NEVER

it follows him around literally 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 and at first it was a little annoying but after some time he kinda appreciated the company

Merlin and Leon meet at a pub to catch up with each other and talk about what tthey've been up to (im a very firm believer of the 𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘭 theory, you can never change my mind about it)

obviously, the dog is still there and Leon is quite amused with the dog and asks what his name was but before Merlin could come up with an excuse on why he didn't name him, a bar fight starts and they accidentally get roped into it

the dog is actually pretty helpful in fighting the random men by biting their kneecaps and what not, but then one of the men kicks the dog effectively injuring it and the dog passes out

when the three of them get out of the fight they head to Merlin's home where they heal the dog until it wakes up with its tail wagging happily at Merlin

He suddenly feels a sense of deja vu and when he realizes why he laughs, Leon's a little concerned and asks why he's laughing, merlin tells the story of how he met Gwaine

Leon chuckles while he pets the dog and jokingly says something along the lines of "well, welcome back Gwaine" and right after that they decide to name him Gwaine

After that whenever Merlin gets a new dog they joke about whose personality it fits closest to their old friends,

time goes by and they run out of names to name the dogs so they just think of the things they miss back then as names, for example: blueberry tarts, silverpine, tourneys, etc. (merlin kept suggesting food and nature as names while leon suggested festivals and places as names)

eventually, Leon suggests the name Albion for a dog 𝘩𝘦 found this time, after running out of kingdoms and estates to use as a name

at some point Albion gets badly injured and i mean 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, for some reason Merlin doesn't use magic because its been a long time since he did and he kinda didn't trust himself

Leon and Merlin take him to a vet where they meet a dude that looks like Arthur. Well it turns out it is him considering that when he actually makes eye contact with one of them he freezes and and nearly shouts "𝘔𝘌𝘙LIN?! 𝘓𝘌𝘖𝘕??"

they reunite and everything and bla bla bla and then they get emotional and stuff

and then Kilgharrah's voice pops outa nowhere in Merlin's mind ".. 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝘼𝙡𝙗𝙞𝙤𝙣'𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣.."

albion, the dog, is just happy to be healed again and just be there, witnessing the wonderful reunion

#bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin #merthur #arthur x merlin #merlin emrys #merlin x arthur #merlin bbc #bbc merthur #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #merlin fandom #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merthur fanfic #bbc arthur #arthur #magical twink and himbo king

304 notes · View notes

cyberllfe · 16 days ago

Note

I got 1300 words! (Which you can absolutely shorten if you don’t feel like writing that much, absolutely understand as a writer.) and I would adore a “Shag me” prompt with Connor 🥴 if you feel up for it. My thoughts on this request (and you can adjust and add to because you’re a great story writer and I trust you) would be a female reader who works as a receptionist at the station (human preferably) and has known Connor since he first came to the department. Soon after his deviancy, they navigate a sort of awkward almost-friends-nearly-more type of relationship and stumble unto a slow romance, until Connor discovers the human emotion horny. It would be amazing if it could be at an awkward time too, like while watching a movie together or at work. I’ve been reading your pieces on AO3 and I truly think you are a talented writer, sending you all my love and inspiration💞💞💞💞

thanks for waiting, anon. connor will see you now. (ao3 link) 1300 words, rated E.

want a turn? prompt me.

It’s been raining all day—classic Detroit November—but all anyone can talk about is the guy who died, his escaped android, and the android investigator in the precinct. You’ve caught a glimpse of him more than once since yesterday, and this time is no different: he comes trotting in after Lieutenant Anderson, covered in glistening droplets of rain and speaking very insistently about something you can’t hear.

“That’s him.”

Your eyes would have slid right past him if not for the intensity in his face. He’s single-minded, emphatic... for all the good it does him. Anderson rolls his eyes and pushes Connor out of his path, leaving him standing there, recalculating. Only then do you notice the LED.

It’s barely two seconds before he’s started after Anderson, calling his name.

“Looks good wet, doesn’t he?”

You don’t offer anything but a soft hum. The thought follows you for the rest of the day.

Connor precedes Hank into the building today. He surprises you by speaking to you instead of simply scanning in, and you feel… strange. The look in his eye is so human, almost anxious. With an awkward smile, you offer a reassuring platitude. You’re earnest, but the offer seems to confuse Connor. He thanks you anyway and leaves your desk.

Between jobs, you keep an eye on him. He’s so animated. It’s marked, the difference a handful of days makes—he paces back and forth, oscillating where Hank is static, following his trail of thought as if it were physical.

Neither notices you. The rude FBI agent doesn’t notice you either; too intent on getting into the Captain’s office, he chucks his ID at you with a cursory here you go, sweetheart and goes back to his phone.

The ID is fine. You let the jackass through, and hope he gets shouted down by Fowler, who could probably do with a good outlet for his repressed frustration.

You laugh, later, as two uniforms perform a dramatised version of Anderson’s right hook on Perkins, but it’s brittle. Your eyes are on the news, and the demonstration in the street, and the news anchor’s silent mouth framing the words what do they want? without listening to the answer. Connor had raced out of the station earlier, and caught your eye as he went. You hope he's okay, wherever he is.

“Excuse me.”

Brown eyes meet yours, familiar intensity tempered with... caution? Nerves? It’s hard to tell them apart on a face that was built to display but not feel.

Connor wears plain clothes with all the ease of a soldier. There’s no tie to straighten, so he clenches and unclenches his hand and lets his eyes wander. They find you smiling, tentative but warm behind your professional attitude.

“How can I help, Connor?”

He’s clearly unused to the question. It’s endearing, really, to watch him like this—the self-possessed turned self conscious, attempting to hide in the shadow projected by his own image, broadcast endlessly on the new cycles at Markus’ left hand.

“Is Lieutenant Anderson here?”

“No. I don’t think he will be, either. He left about an hour ago.”

When Connor sighs, you wonder if he picked that up to blend in with humans or to help him communicate better with them. Both, probably. His fist coils up again, but he gives you a slight smile as he turns to leave.

“Connor.”

He turns, mildly surprised, to face you when you call his name. His smile is late but warm.

With one hand you reach for his, and with the other you slide a business card into his palm. The touch seems to surprise him further, and he stares at your hand even as you withdraw it.

“If you’re looking for Hank, he’s here. Diner out on the edge of town. I thought you’d come by looking for him.”

You’re glad to notice that he doesn’t look as guarded as before. Connor’s not around every day, not anymore, but you see him often enough to watch him relax into himself—to laugh when you make a self-deprecating joke, or hold the door for Officer Miller’s excitable son. Instead, Connor seems thoughtful, like you handed him something heavier than a wedge of paper with a cartoon burger on it.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

To your surprise, he lingers. Spends enough time to ask you about your family, about the plant you keep on your desk, which you should water, by the way. You talk quietly with him about almost-dead houseplants, why you’re not allowed to play Monopoly at home over the holidays, and show him the family dog. All the while he’s leaning against the counter, one arm crooked atop it and grinning… you’re more than distracted. He leaves the foyer, eventually, but not your thoughts.

Laughter covers cheesy Christmas music. You’re wearing half your wine glass in the colour of your cheeks, but Connor thinks the flush becomes you.

You notice when he glances at you, and you smile in that shy, self-conscious way. He returns your smile, adjusting his posture to face you, and you turn away, pretending that you barely noticed, and noticeably trying not to check back. He basks in private amusement.

The party draws on a little long—someone pulls out a bottle of something strong and definitely against regulation, and when Connor leans down to ask you if you’d like another drink, you jump.

You’re never in danger of falling, of course. Inhuman arms encircle you and hold you steady against an equally inhuman body—and for the first time, Connor feels a response that correlates with your change in expression. The slow pull that binds you and builds to something far stronger than he’s felt before until letting you go is unthinkable.

He makes a plausible excuse for you to leave. The charge in the air grows to fevered sharpness, a harmonic buzz that doesn’t break until he has one hand in your hair, the other encircling your waist, and that insatiable need to get closer.

Connor doesn’t leave any of you untouched. When his kisses would deny you air, he leaves them in trails down your neck, then undoes a handful of buttons to continue down your chest, hands restless and hungry, so much warmer than you’d ever imagined, so much more demanding.

When he whispers I don’t want to wait, it’s as if he read your mind. A shiver runs through you when he parts your legs and leans his weight into you, pushing inside with a growl that thrills you.

You tense around him. It’s not intentional, but he grabs your chin and holds you still beneath him, feeling the burning heat of your shaky breath past his thumb. He caresses your lower lip, and when you realise you can’t nod, you whisper please, and reach for him with both hands, in case he doesn’t understand how much you want him.

Connor leans back and pulls out almost all the way. You whine loud, desperate and frustrated, until the hand on your face tightens, cutting off your mumbled demand and making way for the moan he fucks out of you.

His fingers claw your jaw and throat and it’s heaven: the sharpness against your skin, the deep pressure inside you, building with every rock of his hips, chased with a mouth that suffocates and teases you until you’re dizzy.

You feel heavy, waves of sensation breaking over your body with increasing frequency and intensity, and no outlet except your nails in Connor’s back, scratching until he presses in deep again. You tense, on purpose, and half-feel, half-hear the stuttering moan, then the frenzied motion of his body as he pushes himself to the brink and drags you with him, tangled and messy, sharing breaths, but sated at last.

#misc: flash fic #prompt me #ch: connor rk800 #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #misc: fan works #asks #anon #as always. thank you for enabling my experiments #format and word limit in this case

72 notes · View notes

sweetprfct · 3 months ago

Text

The Hate Formula

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Living in the same building, across from each other shouldn't be much of a problem, right? But how come you and Joe tend to always push each other's buttons every day? Is it because you both truly just hated each other or is it because there was something more to it?

Author's Note: Well, look who finally decided to open up the last chapter and finish it. I'm so sorry for the delay! Anyways, I just want to thank you all for supporting this series. This one had been a lot of fun! Please let me know if you'd like to get tagged on my next one. Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: 18+

Wordcount: 2.9K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

“Oh, shit!” You cursed under your breath as you ran from the bathroom and towards the kitchen.

Wes and Sara, who were sitting on the sofa, turned their heads, their eyes following your tracks. You have left the mixer on for too long while you have occupied yourself in the bathroom, trying to calm yourself and hold in the tears that were welling up in your eyes. You have been trying to distract yourself by baking a cake but for some reason, your mind had wandered somewhere else and ended up at the thought of Joe.

You tried your best to look strong in front of Wes and Sara because you didn’t want to worry them, so you left the mixer on for a while, thinking it was going to be okay while you go and collect yourself. However, you have taken too long and totally forgot about the fact that you were whipping some whipped cream. Now, here it was.

Turned into butter.

You turned off the mixer and took a deep breath, setting your hands on your hips and shook your head.

“There goes the whipped cream turned into butter.” You complained under your breath, grabbing the bowl and dumping it on the bin.

“What is she doing?” Wes turned to Sara.

Wes wasn’t used to seeing you like this yet. He only had known you for a few weeks. Every time he had seen you the last couple of days, you were in the kitchen baking like you were catering to some birthday party.

“Stress baking.” Sara replied, laying her head on Wes’ shoulder. “I don’t know what she has done to the other two double layer cakes she made the last two days.”

“Wait, those two cakes were already gone?”

Sara nodded her head, “Yeah, I don’t see it in the fridge, so I don’t know where it is.”

“Do you think she ate it all?”

Sara laughed softly, gazing up at Wes. “No, she just bakes. She barely eats whatever she bakes.”

It has been two weeks since you haven’t seen Joe. He had been trying to contact you ever since that night, but you kept ignoring him. Whenever he saw you in the middle of the hall, you’d make up some excuse not to see him. You didn’t really know what else to do because your heart was still in pieces after what he had told you. How could you face him after that? How could you act like it was just nothing? He only wanted to hook up with you, and you wanted more than that. You had to cut it off before this could hurt you even more.

“Hey.” Joe gave you a small smile when he saw you coming home from work one night.

“Hi.” You replied, nonchalantly as you unlocked your front door.

“How are you?” Joe asked. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

It was small talk, and you couldn’t even look at him. You kept your eyes on your front door and forced yourself to not look at him at all.

“Yeah, I've been so busy at work.” You opened your front door when Joe grabbed your forearm lightly.

“Is everything okay?”

You nodded your head, “Yeah, sorry I’m just really tired.”

You gave him a small smile before you slipped your arm away from him and entered your apartment. Seeing his face made your heart swell every time. You didn’t want to keep hoping when it came to Joe. You have already gotten your heart broken before, you weren't about to experience it again.

So, here you were stress baking and trying to distract yourself with something else but somehow, it wasn’t helping at all. It usually would but this time, even baking wasn’t helping you mentally.

“Hey, do you need some help?” Sara interrupted your thoughts as you poured heavy cream in the mixing bowl.

“No, I'm fine.” You said, your attention focusing on the mixer in front of you.

“Hey,” Sara set a hand over yours. “I’m worried about you.”

You turned your attention towards her, finding Wes standing behind her with a concerned look on his face. He set a hand on Sara’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly.

“Joe’s been asking about you.” Wes added.

You raised your brow at Sara as she took a deep breath and said, “He knows.”

You slumped your shoulders, walking towards the dining table and pulling up a chair. You wiped your hands on your apron and sat on the chair, letting out a sigh.

“He thinks he did something wrong.” Wes said. “I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”

You played with the fabric of your apron and hung your head low. Your mind had been running a thousand thoughts ever since you left Joe’s apartment that day, and you thought maybe Joe would be okay with you disappearing from his life. After all, you two were just hooking up right? Why would he care this much? It was easy for him to let go of those other girls he had before.

“I just need… space.” You got up from the chair and excused yourself.

Wes and Sara watched you slide your apron off, setting it on the kitchen counter and walked towards your bedroom. Sara and Wes didn’t know what to say or do besides just let you and Joe solve your own battles at the moment.

“Hey,” Wes greeted Joe that night when he had gone back home.

Joe was sitting on the sofa, his eyes focused on the television. Wes grabbed himself a bottle of cold beer from the fridge and settled himself next to Joe. He could see the concern in Joe’s eyes and the fact that he wasn’t even focusing on what was on the television said a lot about what he was feeling.

“I think I found a flat a few blocks away.” Wes said.

Joe immediately turned his attention to him, his eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“Well, you know I was only here temporarily.” Wes stated. “You need your own space, mate.”

“I don’t mind you being here.” Joe shrugged, his attention back on the television.

Wes side eyed Joe for a moment before reaching for the remote from the coffee table and muted the television. He turned his body to face Joe as Joe threw his head back on the sofa. He already knew what Wes was about to say right before the words could slip off his lips.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Wes.” Joe groaned softly.

“Seriously, what the fuck happened?”

“I fucked up.” Joe shrugged. “When did I ever not fucked up?”

“So, what did you exactly tell her?”

Joe took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment and said, “She asked me about the different women that I brought in here before, and I told her it was because I had commitment issues.”

Wes’ eyes widened from his explanation. “So, you’re telling me that you still haven’t told her that the only reason why you were doing all that was because you wanted to get over her because you fucked up when you first met her two years ago, and you have been trying to get over her since, but you can’t?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Joe exhaled a sharp breath. “I fucked up… again.”

“Talk to her.” Wes insisted. “Talk to her and tell her the truth!”

“She won’t even talk to me, mate.” Joe shook his head. “Just let it go. It’s over. I fucked it all up.”

“You’re not the only one who’s feeling like shit about this.”

Joe turned to Wes, his brow raised at him. Wes gave him a look as if he didn’t know what he was talking about. They both knew Joe knew exactly what Wes meant when he said that.

A conversation between him and Wes had flashbacked in his mind when Wes had first moved in the apartment building. Before Wes and Sara even dated. Wes had moved in the building because of the job opportunity he had accepted, and he was staying in Joe’s apartment temporarily. Joe had told Wes about you when Wes had witnessed Joe grumbling about you one night.

“Who is that girl anyway?” Wes had asked him one night. “Why are you two always arguing?”

“I just like to tease her.” Joe chuckled softly.

“You like her?” Wes’ expression had turned into excitement when he had seen the emotions that washed over Joe’s face.

“I’ve been trying to get over her.” Joe murmured under his breath. “But every time I walk out my front door, she’s right there.”

“Well, yeah. She lives across the hall.” Wes said sarcastically.

Joe rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant!”

Joe shook off the memory of that conversation and saw Wes’ encouraging smile slowly creeping up on his face.

“Talk to her, please?” Wes said. “Tell her the truth.”

Joe bit his lower lip and got up from the sofa, looking out the window for a moment. Wes had a point. Joe had been trying to get your attention ever since you ran out of his apartment a couple weeks ago, and he needed to tell you the truth.

Grabbing his jacket, he gave Wes a thankful smile before walking out the door and walking across the hall. Knocking on your front door, it was Sara who immediately greeted him at the door.

“Oh, hi.” Sara smiled.

Sara could tell that Joe’s eyes were studying the empty apartment behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she pursed her lips and looked back at Joe.

“She’s at Central Park. She said she needed some space.”

Joe nodded his head and right before he could walk away, Sara called out his name. He paused in his tracks as she ran back inside the apartment for a moment, grabbing an umbrella and handing it to him.

“It’s supposed to rain in a few minutes.” Sara said.

Taking the umbrella from her, Joe gave her a thankful smile and said, “Thank you.”

“Good luck!” Sara called out as she watched Joe walk away.

As soon as Joe walked out of the apartment building, the dark clouds were already covering the city of New York. Light raindrops started falling from the sky as he made his way down the sidewalk and down to Central Park.

The park was 840 acres, but he knew exactly where to find you. You had mentioned it to him once from one of the nights where you two would just cuddle and talk about anything that could fill the silence of your bedroom.

He held the umbrella over his head as rain started to pour and made his way towards Bethesda Terrace. On a bench, he found you sitting alone under the old architecture, watching the raindrops fall from the sky. You gazed up at him as he slowly walked over to you.

“Hi.” He murmured.

“Hi.” You whispered.

Getting up from the bench, you stood in front of Joe as he stared at you for a moment. He took a deep breath and gave you a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Looking for you.” Joe replied, shrugging lightly. “What are you doing out here in the rain?”

“I needed some space.” You said, looking down at your feet.

You wondered why Joe walked all the way here but then again, from the conversation that you had earlier with Sara and Wes, you sort of had an idea why. You took one step closer to him and took a deep breath.

It was time.

You needed to ask him this time. You needed to at least tell him how you really felt.

“I heard what you said.” You muttered.

“What exactly are you referring to?” Joe asked, taking a step closer to you.

“The three little words that you probably only said because you were in the moment.” You fiddled with your fingers nervously.

You could feel your heart beating right out of your chest as Joe stared at you. You didn’t know what was going on inside his mind, and it was killing you that he was just standing there without saying one word. You could only hear the raindrops hitting the pavement and the silence blanketed between you two felt like eternity.

“Did… Did you mean it?” You asked, your voice shaking slightly.

Suddenly, a small smile tugged on Joe’s lips. His eyes were filled with love and affection for you.

“I meant it.” Joe stated. “I meant it with all my heart.”

You felt your lungs give out when Joe finally answered your question. Joe cupped your cheek with his hand, brushing your cheek softly.

“I love you.” Joe murmured. “I love you so much it consumes every part of me. I love you with all my heart.”

You hitched your breath, staring into his eyes.

“But what about what you said…”

“The commitment thing?” Joe raised his brow. “Yes, I have a commitment issue but that was before I met you.”

“R…Really?”

Joe took a deep breath and nodded his head. “I’m sorry if I made you take that the wrong way. The reason why I’m always bringing girls is because I just wanted to get over you. I know it was wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt any of them at all, but I wasn’t like this before.”

You bit your lower lip and waited for Joe to continue.

“When I first met you when you first moved in, I fucked up.” Joe explained. “I stupidly brought home a girl the night before because I was drunk, but I didn’t mean to lead her on like that. Then, I met you the next day, and I thought I was still having a hangover because I saw this beautiful girl moving in across the hall—”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as Joe did too. You shook your head, taking both of his hands in yours and intertwining your fingers together.

“I’m serious.” Joe laughed. “Then, I went ahead and fucked it all up.”

“Yeah, you did.” You joked as Joe laughed with you, leaning his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry.” Joe murmured.

You shook your head, smiling softly before pressing your lips against his. Smiling through the kiss, Joe kissed you back softly and pulled you close in his arms.

“I love you too.” You murmured the moment you parted from the kiss.

Joe smiled, grazing his nose over yours as you both chuckled together before he pulled you into a tight hug. Burying your face on Joe’s shoulder, you took a deep breath, feeling relief from all the overthinking thoughts you have been thinking of.

Cupping your face between his hands, Joe grinned happily at you as he kissed you again, letting your surroundings blur around the both of you. The sound of the raindrops were the only thing you could hear as you smiled through the kiss.

“Maybe I’ve loved you all this time too.” You laughed softly, letting your forehead pressed against his again.

Joe grinned widely, kissing your forehead softly before intertwining his fingers with yours. Holding the umbrella over the both of you, you both walked back towards the apartment building. Your eyes admiring the raindrops that were falling from the sky. Raindrops softly dropping from the leaves of the trees. The wet pavement shining as you both continued down the park. Your heart pounding in your chest as you enjoyed Joe’s soft fingers intertwined with yours.

It almost felt like a dream.

Stopping in your tracks in front of the building, you gazed up at the tall skyscraper and smiled softly, remembering the first day you had moved in here with Sara.

Who knew two years ago, it would be the beginning of something special in your life? Even if you didn’t know about it then. You couldn’t help but smile when you remembered all the times the both of you had bantered in the hall.

“What is it?” Joe paused in his tracks, looking over his shoulder.

You shook your head and entered the building with him. “Nothing.”

The look on Wes and Sara’s face was something you would remember forever the moment you and Joe had entered your apartment. They were in the kitchen microwaving some popcorn when they had turned around and saw the both of you entered, fingers intertwined together.

“Oh, good!” Wes exclaimed happily. “Finally!”

You laughed softly as Sara quickly ran towards you and embraced you happily. You chuckled softly, wrapping your arms around her body and hugged her tighter.

“Thank you.” You whispered to her.

“I’m so happy for you.” Sara whispered, squeezing you softly before parting from the hug.

“Does that mean we could do a double date movie night now without you two arguing?” Wes joked, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth.

You looked over your shoulder and saw Joe shaking his head as he grabbed one of the throw pillows from the sofa and chucked it at Wes. You and Sara laughed softly as Joe walked up behind you, rubbing both of your arms softly.

Looking around the room, you smiled happily before the four of you settled on the sofa. Wes browsed through the movies on the tv screen, while Joe had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his side and planting a soft kiss on your hair. Sara gave you another happy smile before moving herself close to Wes and laid her head on his shoulder as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders.

In here, you were warm and safe in Joe’s arms. In here, you were with the people you loved.

In here, you were finally home.

The End.

*********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @quinnyficsy @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover @mdurdenpitt @siriuslysmoking @blueleonor @bejeweled13swiftie @reoalessandra

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn Fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #Joseph Quinn Fics #Joe Quinn Fics #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #The Hate Formula #part ten #sweetprfct

81 notes · View notes

vampcubus · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! If your accepting requests would you mind Writing a thing with tanjiro, zentizu, Inosuke, and Kyoujuro (separate) with a reader who is blind? I have very limited vision, to the point with out my very thick glasses I cant cross a street lol. I'd think it be cute to see our favorite boys help my helpless ass lol.

𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐒

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂��𝐄𝐑𝐒 : tanjiro, zenitsu, inosuke, and kyojuro.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, the boys being overprotective.

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎

— Tanjiro has found the balance between being caring and being overprotective of you. He’ll never make you feel like you’re delicate or dependent. Always asks permission before guiding you around, but has mini-heart attacks when he sees you doing dangerous things without him.

— If you're a slayer in spite of your blindness, he is immensely impressed! Always complimenting your grace and swordsmanship. He wonders if your other senses have heightened to accommodate your lack of vision.

— Tanjiro is determined to make you as happy as possible, keeping tabs on scents, textures, and sounds that make you smile. And gods does he love your smile. He'll do anything to see it.

— His hand is practically glued to yours 24/7 because he doesn't want to lose track of you in crowds... and the warm weight of your palm in his is comforting. Gets a little panicky if he loses track of you, head jerking from left to right, hopping to see above the crowd in search of your familiar face.

— Tanjiro always finds you though, that boy can sniff you out no matter where you wander off to.

— It's kind of funny when he finally does find you, because you don't look concerned at all, just going about your business like nothing was amiss. He'll sigh deeply through his nose and smile, jogging to catch up to you and take your hand in his again.

"There you are, you sure slipped away from me haha..."

— Pls don't wander off like that.

𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀

— Anxiety bf that panics when you're out of his sight for more than two seconds, running around like a madman in search of his "poor helpless partner" (even if you're far from helpless)

"Y/N?? SWEETIE, WHERE ARE YOU?" "I'm right here, Zenitsu -_-"

— Actually has a knack for predicting accidents and scouting potential hazards, so he'll casually weave you around dangers without missing a beat in conversation. He'll hear you trip and rush in to keep you from falling just in the knick of time. That super speed comes in handy!

— Definitely takes advantage of your blindness to stare lovingly at you 24/7. Being able to stare at his beautiful partner without consequence? It’s too good to pass up.

— Goes from "let me protect you" to "protect me pls" if he finds out that you're a slayer, clinging onto you whenever you have to hunt demons together. As Zenitsu hardens and becomes less cowardly, he's much easier to work with. You two become so in tune with one another's fighting styles that you often get sent on missions as a pair.

— Zenitsu throws sobbing fits when you get sent on different assignments, worrying the whole time you're apart. What if you tripped and he wasn't there to catch you? What if you got lost and couldn't find your way back to him? He'd die alone!

— Your reunions are always teary (mostly him crying and you stand there confused as to why he's so upset) and snuggle-filled.

"I thought you were dead, my love!" he sobs, and your brows raise. "Your faith in me is sooo inspiring," you sigh, unamused. You pet his hair anyways, letting him cry into your shoulder.

𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐀

— I don't think he'd realize you're blind at first, which I think is fucking hilarious. He's always so confused about why you're missing certain cues and showing no reaction to his body language. He's gotten all up in your face several times just for you to stare at him with a blank expression. Finds you intimidating because of it and backs off.

"(butchered name) is so cool... I CAN'T STAND IT!"

— And then when it clicks that you can't see, he's facepalming so hard. You're not cool you're just blind and can't tell when he's provoking you. No matter, he'll just have to spell it out for you next time.

— If you're a slayer, Inosuke has a great deal of respect for you being able to kick demon butt despite your handicap. Then he thinks you're cool again :)))

— You'll notice that Inosuke holds onto your clothes a lot. Clutches your sleeve and tugs you around, or hangs onto your haori/kimono when you're out and about. He might not seem like the type to be a worry wart, but he is aware that your blindness makes you more vulnerable than others and is determined to be your eyes for you as often as he can. It's an unspoken thing.

— Has some slip-ups where he points at things and says "WOAH LOOK AT THAT!" only to see the strained expression Tanjiro's giving him and your blank one. "Oh right sorry."

— Prepare to be yanked out of the way by the wrist/clothing when danger comes your way. He might not be the most gentle about it, but he doesn't want you to get hurt.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔

— Kyojuro is insanely protective of you. Always has an arm locked with yours at all times to guide you around safely, it's subconscious at this point.

— Obviously, he can't always be there to help you since his Hashira work keeps him away for long periods, something he regrets deeply. He reminds you to always be careful when you have to part ways, and makes you promise not to do anything too dangerous while he's away.

— Oftentimes entrusts you with Senjuro, who is more than happy to be your eyes when Kyojuro can't. Though sometimes even his father can be seen guiding you around the house, looking all soft-like, not that you can see the gentle expression on his face. Kyojuro's heart swells in his chest at the sight of his family taking such good care of his partner.

— He'll bite his tongue if you're a slayer, though even you can tell he wants to say something sometimes. It's not that he finds you to be weak, he's just terrified of losing you. Training loads with him will put his heart at ease a little, being able to see firsthand just how capable you are despite being sightless. He really shouldn't be surprised, Gyomei was blind just as you are, and is the strongest of the Hashira.

— Kyojuro is always placing your hands on his face and kissing your palms, grinning from ear to ear when he makes you giggle successfully.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #inosuke hashibira x reader #zenitsu agatsuma x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #kny x reader #kny headcanons

555 notes · View notes

tacky-optic · 4 months ago

Text

The agony of being able to go through an entire tumblr tag from start to finish.... ANYWAY. we're back with more food for the hat trick niche ft. rare JigZeni pachislot (zeni acknowledges jigen for 0.1 seconds and jigen forgot he was there even tho he's driving)

One thing I like about rarepairs is the flexibility. They're a headcanon/hypothetical breeding ground of potential without having to sacrifice too much of the character's integrity, because they rarely ever talk/barely have a relationship to launchpad off of! yaay :'D

So let's talk about how! Five how's, actually. Might've gotten a bit carried away with this one.

As with anything involving these two, somehow, some way, it always circles right back around to Lupin. It kind of has to, given their shared obsession and/or dedication with the guy. But that can split up into all sorts of scenarios, with some equally varied results (and some exceptions!)

~ Getting together in spite of Lupin

In which Lupin's basically that "I messed up so bad that I turned my girl date gay/my guy date straight" joke but everyone's still queer and it's just his partner hooking up with his rival because of how much he's been frustrating them both lately (and oops the proxy hate sex turns out to be really good) INHALES. Does that even make any sense.

I'm sorry but Lupin fumbling the ball is just so funny to me. It is a bit deeper than that, obviously, and this'd have some weird love triangle logistics because Jigen and Zenigata are still hopelessly in love with Lupin, in their own ways. But dipping into that is always complicated and messy-- JUST HOW WE LIKE IT.

This one definitely has the most jealousy on all fronts. For me, there's always this little asterisk on the JigLup/LuZeni pairings because someone's getting left out. Tell me Zenigata's chest wouldn't ache every time he watches Lupin and Jigen escape, an arm slung over the other's shoulder, cheek to cheek, laughs fading off into the cold, lonely night. Tell me Jigen wouldn't hate waiting in the Fiat for Lupin to lose his dogged hunter, mind wandering as to why he's taking so damn long. He grits his jaw when Lupin finally saunters up, victoriously spinning yet another pair of handcuffs on his pointer finger.

There's a silent rivalry for Lupin's attention that they might not even realize is going on until they blow up at each other about it.

It's difficult to tell if Lupin is being genuine or just messing around, especially for Zenigata. He asks Jigen how he deals with him, how he deals with.... everything. Just everything. The "will they won't they"s and the "does he really mean it"s. How does he stay so collected all the damn time. Jigen says he doesn't have a single friggin' clue. Maybe they make out sloppy style about it. Maybe they keep meeting up to vent, drink, exist in each other's company. During chases, Zenigata keeps dipping after Jigen instead of Lupin more and more often. Lupin's standing on a rooftop Pulp Fiction John Travolta style wondering where the fuck everyone went.

Ohhh jealous Lupin, where have you gone. Where did the tms writers hide your unchecked narcissistic ego. The other points after this support Supportive Lupin in some capacity but this one does not. The slow-burn's done slow-burning but it ain't over yet, baby. There's trouble in paradise and its name is Lupin the Third. He is Not Enjoying This. The two guys that are always looking at him aren't looking at him anymore and that just won't do. Drama ensues.

~ Getting together because of Lupin

Matchmaker Lupin! This is if Lupin's relationships with Jigen and/or Zenigata are more platonic-leaning (which is totally valid). The paired fics in Disreputable Company nail this dynamic perfectly imo. But as far as my own separate take goes....

They're both just so. So emotionally constipated. Intentionally or not, Jigen's been screwed over in the romantic interest department to many times that he's intentionally reduced his acquaintance list to how many fingers he's got on his right hand. Zenigata practically unloaded an entire clip into his foot as far as maintaining healthy family/friend relationships go. Spoilers for Zenigata Keibu, but he 100% knew what he was saying when he told Haruka he'd go back to her once he caught Lupin (I can never be yours), and that Zenigata's supposed to be the freest one! Bound not necessarily to Lupin specifically, but to The Chase forever.

Anyway. Jigen and Zenigata are Isolated. The fact that someone would consider them attractive is so foreign that they'd think its some kind of sick joke or ruse to screw them over instead of anything that could ever be even remotely genuine. They need someone to shove them out of their little self-made paranoia bubbles, and Lupin just loves to meddle in people's businesses. I dunno. I just think he'd think it's funny.

*dramatic finger point* "haha zenigata, you are banging my partner!!" "you... you tricked us into our first date? made the reservations?? th- the tailored suits???" "lu you friggin roller-skated out in a waiter outfit and immediately bought us the most expensive top-shelf booze they offered. not even remotely conspicuous about it" "lol yeah. good times"

He's just happy two of his favorite humans are finally getting laid for once, y'know?

~ Getting together for Lupin

Jigen and Zenigata are forced to team up. Okay, this scenario only goes down if 1) Lupin goes missing or is KO'd for a prolonged period of time or 2) the Truce demands they separate for a while. On top of seeing this play out in other fics, my good friend duke and I have been messing around with (a variant of) this idea for a while now (aka they've been letting me run around in their au Rampant and Unchecked. ty duke).

In ""canon"", if these two were to become at the very least amicable towards each other, this'd be the way to do it. In all honesty (and my personal bias for them aside), I'm genuinely shocked they haven't done this before. Not even an episode, tms? That 4-ish minute block in POTP is all you're giving me? One bar chat in the kobayashi sendoff ep. Okay. I'm not miffed i swear

Like I mentioned in this previous post, the idea of the two of them being able to function together without Lupin as a crutch is upsetting at first. They're used to following him to the Ends of the Earth and they're used to him living rent-free in their heads. They've convinced themselves that they're hopeless on their own, that if he disappeared for good they'd just go back to being two husks vaguely shaped like humans meandering around with no meaningful north star to head towards. Don't get me wrong, if the situation was Bad, Goemon and Fujiko would be devastated, too. But they could move on, albeit with a heavy heart. They're kind of known for heading out on their own should the situation call for it. But Jigen and Zenigata are in for the long-haul for better or for worse, whether they like it or not (they do not).

They're on edge the whole time. Hostile towards each other and passive-aggressive at best to any unfortunate folk they have to interact with on this stupid side quest they've been unwillingly shunted onto together.

It helps immensely that they're both "cut that out" people to anyone but themselves, because they can be that for each other. There's a lot of bickering/conflicts of interest and methodology. "You're being too harsh", "You're one to talk", "You're so goddamn stubborn", "You're such a hypocrite", etc etc. But holy shit they're so freakishly effective together, to a frankly terrifying degree-- maybe even moreso than with Lupin because they're honing the fuck in and nothing else-- no banter or bullshit-- and that's what gets them through to the end. Maybe it helps them come to terms with whatever sort of issues they've got going on, maybe it doesn't. Bare minimum, they come out of this with newfound understanding of each other. At max, uh.... see the point after this next one.

~ Lupin-adjacent

A shift in fixation. The slightest glance, the slightest exchange of eye contact for a second too long, the briefest moment of consideration, and the thoughts start spiraling. This is "in spite of Lupin" without the spite. The urge to know absolutely everything about someone, down to the marrow, just gets shifted a little bit to the right onto another guy. It's just them, in-between heists, with barely any mention of the Chase and anyone else involved therein. Their own little adventure away from the status quo. It's weird at first, sure, but it's new and exciting and real dang nice having things not revolve exclusively around him for once. It's a shot for Jigen to mess with Zenigata for once and the closest thing to a willing vacation Zenigata can get. Win-win! Well. Sorta.

The loneliness, though-- that's what makes itself most prevalent during the in-between times. They really don't have much left outside of the Usual. Forgetting the bare essentials, days blending together, moving around the masses like a ghost.... it's familiar, and it's common, not being sure whether they actually like someone or they're just desperately lonely. Zenigata wallows in it, Jigen shoves it down. They've got images to keep. but getting noticed for what they are is simultaneously the worst thing to ever happen and the highlight of their day. Real wholesome bonding material, ain't it

"I tracked you down for only you". "I dragged you into this issue because I want you here". "You get it".

~ Secret fifth thing

*points at playbohz mag* "lol wouldn't it be funny if zenigata was jigen's type??" *points at y series, miyazaki's zeni, island of assassins, that one manga where they put him in a tshirt, etc* "oh my god zenigata is jigen's type."

It's just a one-night stand lmao. I feel like I see this one a fair bit too, mostly because it's super duper simple and doesn't require a crap-ton of emotional angst setup just to get them into the same bed. It's the above point diluted into, like, an afternoon lmao. It doesn't have a lot of depth by design. Curiosity gets the better of both of them, plain and simple. They get buzzed enough at a bar, skip off to some motel to do what they gotta do one time and never speak of it again.

A part of me likes that, but another part of me in the deep deep recesses of my psyche is hollering "TACKY YOU GOTTA TURN THIS INTO THE SPITE BULLETPOINT!!!"

NO. For this one they get one nice hookup and THAT'S THAT. Sorry not sorry.

Maybe it's easier because there's actually something to decipher. There isn't some esoteric idea of "Lupin the Third, Gentleman Thief"; a mystery man(?) with a million little gadgets and masks and smiles; this unwavering, unpredictable force of chaos that likes taking shiny things from one place and hiding them somewhere else over and over again with no real rhyme or reason.

It's easier to find solace in turning to the guy next to you and going, "what do you think that is?" than in going up to "that" and poking it with a stick in hopes it'll give some sort of answer. "That" won't. "That" likes watching you guys flounder around together too much :)

#i really really like them can you tell #its one thing posting art stuff for pairs i enjoy a normal sane amount but these two.... oh man. oh jeez #lupin iii #j #z #jigzeni #lots to stew in #honestly just glad to've finally gotten this outta my drafts lmao

59 notes · View notes

dirtysvthoughts · 2 years ago

Text

oh, so y'all thought i wasn't gonna write about this? everyone's gonna suffer along with me on this thursday, bc he's literally my adonis, his sexy ass </3

general tags/warnings: boyfriend!chan, female! reader, sexting into video call sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, reader (kenny) is obsessed with chan's muscle groups

word count: 1.3k

notes: y'all this chan dropped this morning, had me feeling things, and then this was born, god he's so sexy, wanna suck him off so bad.. anyways, hope y'all enjoy and lemme know if ya liked it :')

imagine chan working out after his schedule, alone in the gym, finishing his last set of weights. he notices his phone light up from across the room, picking it up from where he left it on the floor. he smiles as your name appears along with the green message icon, envisioning your sweet voice as he reads your text:

baby: heyyy, how was ur day? been thinkin about you 🤍

you lie in your bed, in nothing but one of chan's t-shirts and a pair of panties. chan was coming to see you later on the day, and you couldn't wait. even though it had only been a few days since you last saw each other, you couldn't get enough of him. as your mind continues to wander, the ping of a new notification immediately brings you back to reality.

channie: it was pretty good, i'm about to finish my workout. i've been thinking about you too, pretty girl :)

you clench around nothing as you read his new message over two things. one, he called you pretty girl which always got you going; two, he was at the gym. working out. probably shirtless. all of beautifully shaped muscles on display.

you never admitted this to your boyfriend directly, but you were obsessed with his muscles. his shoulders and back are so broad and strong, you felt them up whenever you could. whenever his arms flexed while doing something, you couldn't help but bite down on your lip, thinking about what it would be like to slightly tighten his grasp when his hands were on your throat. and his abs? you so desperately wanted to sink down on them and ride chan, praising him for how sculpted he is and how he makes you feel so good.. all this was on your mind and more as you typed out your response.

baby: oh? ur working out today? 😏 knowing you, ur shirt's probably somewhere across the room 🤣

chan smirks, laughing to himself at your guess. he still had his white shirt on with his sleeves rolled up, but something in him wanted to take the conversation in a new direction.

chan: i mean, it's not, but who's to say i can't take it off right now?

chan: maybe send you a pic or two...

you freeze at the most recent message. you were already needy for him, and he was voluntarily giving you the chance? you couldn't pass this up.

baby: chan, don't tease me.. pls..

baby: if ur serious about this, then lemme see

baby: wanna have you pin me down with those arms 😩

without a second thought, chan takes off his shirt and tosses it across the room. he angles himself in the mirror correctly so you can see all of him, his left arm holding the waistband of his shorts as if he wants you to see more.

then, he takes a video, the camera facing him this time. not saying a word, he smirks at the camera as it goes from his face all the way down to his waist, making sure you could see his defined muscles up close.

he can feel his dick get hard as he types out his next message, sitting down on one of the benches, already thinking about what he would do to you later on that night.

channie: [image]

channie: [video]

channie: how is it, pretty girl? like what you see? 😏

you were already gone, hands playing with your clit outside your panties, thinking about the last time you had sex with chan. how he pinned you down, how his thrusts were so strong, and how his muscles flexed so deliciously...

you grab your phone with your free hand, and you whimper at the pics he sent you. but you're not ready when you press play on the video, moaning at how insanely hot he is, and he wasn't even doing much.

baby: fuck, channie

baby: ur so fucking sexy

baby: i need u so so bad 🥺

chan moves to lock the door of the room he was in, making sure no one could disturb or see him. he sits back down and opens up the camera again, this time taking a video of him from the waist down.

channie: [video]

channie: need you too, baby

channie: so much that my dick is rock hard now

channie: need you inside of me too

you open the video to reveal chan's big dick, his hands running up and down his shaft, his tip starting to get red. you were in a trance at how he moved, your hands starting to hurt from moving faster.

an idea pops in your head, and you find the voice recorder, tapping on it and the numbers appear across the screen.

"mmm, channie, a-ahh, channie... i'm so wet for you, i'm touching myself but it doesn't f-feel the same at all," you whine feeling your stomach starting to coil, "want you to make me come all over my sh-sheets, a-ah!"

you hit send, and sit up, not wanting to come just yet. you get your vibrator from your drawer, glancing at your phone and noticing that chan has listened and kept your dirty little voice message. seconds after, his name flashes across your screen as a video call. you toss your vibrator on the bed, and set up your phone on top of your pillows. you accept the call just before it disappears.

"damn, my pretty girl doesn't waste any time, does she?" is the first thing you hear as you lift up your shirt so he could see your lower body. you grab the vibrator and slowly place it on your clit, looking directly into the camera as you begin to grind down, loudly moaning at how it amplified how you were feeling.

"s-shit, ch-chan," is all you can manage to say in the moment.

"does it feel good, baby? i know you already wish it was me filling that tight pussy up," he groans as he goes back to touching himself. "god, you're gonna be so in for it tonight."

"i wish you were here, this vibrator only does so much, you're so much better, fuck, those pics you sent me turn me on so much.. you're so big and broad, i just want you ruin me and make me yours."

he smirks, wanting to take you further to the edge. "well, who makes you feel this good, baby? who always gets you so wet your panties are soaked? say my name, baby, tell me you're mine," he tilts his head back as he moves his hand faster on his dick.

"i'm yours, chan, i'm yours! 'm gonna cum, gonna cum, love you s-so much, are you close? " you whine, feeling your climax quickly approaching.

" 'm getting there baby, but you're gonna cum? do it for me then, baby. cum all over those sheets while you're thinking of me fucking you, can't wait to get inside of you.."

you gasp for air as you finally release all of you, chanting his name as if it was the only ting you knew. seeing you cum, chan comes into his hands, his fingers coated in his own juices.

"channie," you sweetly say as you bring your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean, teasing him by taking them in and out. "don't you wanna come taste me yourself?"

he groans out, clearly enjoying the extra show you were putting on for him. "you better take off those panties and get ready for me," he says as he comes out of view to grab his shirt. "i'm hightailing it to your place, i need to have you."

"then come make me feel good baby," you say as you blow a kiss, smiling at chan, ending the video call.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #svt imagines #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x you #lee chan smut #chan smut #dino smut #lee chan fanfic #dsvtt: kenny’s works

517 notes · View notes

morganbritton132 · 2 years ago

Note

PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE BRACELET WITH EDDIES NUMBER ON IT

Was there a time Steve sleepwalked and someone did call Eddie? Was there another time it came in handy when Steve lost Eddie (or Eddie lost Steve) or something other?? Please I need more that is so cute

Just a warning, I made this sad for no reason.

Once when Steve went on tour with Eddie, he wandered off in a post-ictal fog and ended up lost in the city. It took them a few hours to find each other because Steve didn’t know where he was nor did he have any money on him. After that, he would write the phone number of Eddie’s manager on his arm since he was the only guy on tour with a cell phone.

Pat, Eddie’s manager, wasn’t thrilled with this arrangement because he didn’t particularly like Steve, but after Steve channeled the coldest version of his mother and reminded Pat that only one of them was replaceable – “And managers are a dime of dozen” – he begrudgingly agreed.

He was never called.

Steve actually got the idea for the bracelet from one of his second graders.

After a pretty bad allergic reaction, one of his students came back to school with a little silver bracelet on her wrist. It had her mother’s phone number on it and the words ‘Peanut Allergy.’ She smiled up at Steve when she showed him and said, “My mama says this will keep me safe!”

He smiles too, “I bet it will.”

The bracelet is a surprise that Steve never gets to tell Eddie about. The day it comes in the mail, Eddie is over at Gareth’s for a D&D campaign so Steve never even gets the chance to tell him. He goes to bed before Eddie gets home and wakes up in the Emergency Room.

He’s cold and his feet hurt, and there are cuts on his hands and medical tape on his face, and for a second, he thinks he’s in the backseat of a blue Camaro with the world’s most reckless driver. He tries to sit up and it sets up an alarm and then there’s a hand in his, squeezing it.

It takes Steve a second to recognize the rings, to follow the rings up an arm, up to big eyes and messy curls, and Steve breaths out the only thing he can think, “Wow.”

“Wowza, big boy,” Eddie grins back at him, and Steve loves him. “How are you feeling?”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah, uh. Sleepwalking again,” Eddie hums and then he smiles again. He taps a ring on his free hand against the metal bracelet on Steve’s wrist, “This is fucking brilliant, by the way. Did you think of it?”

Steve’s jaw kinda hurts like he’s been clenching it, but he smiles anyways, “Yeah.”

“You’re a genius, babe. They called me immediately,” He says, kissing his knuckles. Steve frowns, seeing a bruise there. Eddie notices and his grin takes on a chaotic edge, “You punched a security guard.”

“What?”

“For real, babe,” Eddie laughs at the panicked look on his face. “I don’t know what they did to trigger you, but you fuckin’ decked one of ‘em.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to jail.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I took care of it,” Eddie says and then to the skeptical look on Steve’s face, he rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. The guy is a fan and I gave him tickets not to press charges. Also, he feels pretty bad about spooking you since you clearly weren’t in your right mind.”

“Was in my left mind then?” Steve half-jokes, half-yawns. “Who brought me in?”

“You did.” Eddie’s smile dims in a way that’s a little sad but full of love. “You came here on your own actually – without shoes. We’re gonna have to teach your left mind about shoes – and, uh. Based on what I’ve heard, you were looking for a patient.”

“A patient? What patient?”

“They, uh. They said you were looking for Max.”

#Post-Vecna Steve was always either coming or going from the hospital and after he has a nightmare about Max it’s just easier for his mind to #put his anxiety into a routine so he does what he did then and he goes to the hospital #Side note: I love the thought of little toddler Steve hearing his mom tell his dad’s secretary that he’s definitely sleeping with that she’s #replaceable and nothing special and then internalizing that mean girl energy #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

906 notes · View notes

notmorbid · 19 days ago

Text

dead like me, season 1.

dialogue prompts from season one of bryan fuller's dead like me.

i excel at not giving a shit.

a sunny disposition goes a long way in any line of work.

if it's my lunch hour, why is it only 35 minutes?

i know what might cheer you up.

everyone always says the same shit at funerals.

why do you have to be such an asshole?

they're not invisible. you just can't see them.

leave the plastic. cash is king.

isn't stealing from dead people kind of tacky?

i'm sorry, i tuned you out. were you whining?

as childhood traumas go, nothing beats the realization that everything dies. including you.

unhappy people do unhappy things.

you need to leave now. you're making me tired.

souls go bad in all kinds of ways.

all you can ever hope to do is make it easier. that may not seem like a lot, but it is.

i think for me, death was just a wakeup call.

you know what your problem is? you wake up every morning wondering what the world's gonna do for you.

i'm going to say this as politely as possible: i will fuck you up.

i am really trying to respect you. i am. but it's really hard sometimes.

carving my own path seems like way too much work.

just so you know, i'm very prone to anxiety attacks.

most of the time i'm talking out of my ass. i don't know shit.

just smell some fucking roses already.

you know, you can talk to me about stuff. if you want to.

monotony is the mind killer.

what you do now matters. what you don't do matters.

what is an average heart, anyway?

the password's 'rimjob', if you want to get on.

i wish people were more complicated, but they're not.

i don't want my picture taken.

it's very tempting to think the little jewels from our lives will bring it all back. but they won't.

i was dreaming about frogs.

i'm pretty sure they put mind control drugs in the water cooler.

you can't come up with a more original way to act out?

intuitive thinkers are the worst.

people lie all the time. it's not a bad thing.

if a lie is big enough, there's an instinctive need to protect it. it's almost maternal.

i need somebody to give me lessons on how to communicate with you, because i'm at a loss.

i need to be unconscious.

have you ever kept a scrapbook?

the lengths i go to for free food.

you've got a worldly quality. a certain je nai se quoi.

falling's easy, you just fall. jumping requires strength of will.

my face gets sore if i smile too much.

do you have to be such an asshole?

there's a finite number of personalities in the world, and i have met them all.

no wonder your children don't come and visit you.

jesus christ, fella, cut the cord.

you always seem to go a different way than everyone else.

open door's an invitation. gotta jump while the door's open.

why do i keep losing all the things and people that i care about?

when you can't make sense of someone leaving, you try to make sense of what they left behind.

i just don't get our culture's obsession with moving on. what are we afraid of, remembering? being sad?

you want to steal something, don't you?

you want to be a bowling pin your whole life, or would you rather be the ball?

i'm sorry, i'm trying to flirt with you. it's not really my thing.

why are you stalking me?

i could burn you a really great cd, if you want.

your perversions are coming into disturbing focus.

not in that life, not in this one, not ever.

you get close enough to see the pain, and it's no longer funny.

i really liked kissing you.

we all create, in our heads, who we are. who we want others to be.

what fresh hell is this?

just because you're dead doesn't mean you have to give up.

i'm not good at the pet thing.

i don't exactly know where home is, these days.

if you don't know the difference between flipping and flopping, we're knee-deep in water without a paddle.

i'm concerned you don't know what you're asking for.

i think some people wander because that's who they are.

you are a very internal little creature.

is it wrong to decide someone's a great person because they're so much like you?

you want to get coffee? i think that's what you're supposed to say when somebody's having a fucked-up day.

you do know the story, right?

you didn't do anything wrong. i'm just screwed up.

i didn't know that was all the time we'd have.

a girl's got needs, you know. even a dead girl.

i'm sure there's going to be some karmic reward for you down the line.

how's the whole 'dead' thing working out for you?

everybody grieves in a different way.

i could've, should've. didn't.

when you're mourning yourself, closure is a little tricky.

the one death you never get over is your own.

you can go fuck a duck.

i think i'm going to miss you the most.

do you want to do some acid?

i feel that my current reality is altered enough.

traveling alone has a certain magic.

what, did you all get together to vote me off the island?

the world is a very big place, and you are not the center of it.

let's just pretend everything is back to normal.

if you stand too close to a painting, all you see are patches of color. stand too far back, and you're missing all the detail.

haunting is all about envy.

i've always wanted to knock over a liquor store.

people mostly just want to hear themselves talk.

i work better alone.

i love the books that people leave here.

if a tree falls in the forest, who gives a fuck?

you can't smoke in here.

you have no respect for authority, you know that?

this job is really getting in the way of the business of living.

you only have one shot at life. this isn't a dress rehearsal.

i'm sorry i wasn't sweeter.

i'm sorry i didn't show you as much affection as i felt for you. i did love you.

i keep forgetting how young you were.

i love cemeteries. the quiet. the stories on headstones.

#rp meme #tv meme #ask memes #rp memes #inbox memes #sentence starters #ask meme #fantasy meme #magical realism

33 notes · View notes

juyeonszn · 1 year ago

Text

I WANNA SHOW YOU OFF

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.65k

GENRES smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, idol!juhak and non-idol!reader, stupid man not getting the hint, jealous juhak 🤭, DOM JUHAK !!!! this deserves its own warning phew, marking, no foreplay bc we ball like steph curry, little bit of exhibitionism but also not really, unprotected sex, sex against a wall?? standing upright?? what is that position called, creampie lol

SUMMARY you hated when men flirted with you, but god if it didn’t result in such a thrilling experience.

MORE im actually yelling like no way i’ve done 9 of these…. each time a fawntober fic goes up i rattle my brain around in my head to make sure it’s not empty 😭 ANYWAYS!!! if u enjoyed, please reblog <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

You couldn’t wait to get out of here.

Your feet were starting to ache from the uncomfortable heels you were wearing. Your faux smile could only handle staying on your face for so long. Your head was throbbing from all of the superficial conversations. You were just about ready to crash.

That was the thing about being the girlfriend of a successful idol, you had to accompany him to these company parties despite everyone being so fake. The only genuine people were the idols themselves. All of the higher ups and staff members were just too vain and shallow minded, you could hardly talk to them without feeling like you’d lost multiple brain cells.

To be fair, you weren’t required to attend these. Haknyeon technically wasn’t even supposed to have a girlfriend, for the sake of maintaining his image for the fans. But everyone at his company knew of your existence and he liked having the excuse to parade you around like a little trophy.

His group members often teased him for being the first to get into a relationship. The two of you had been friends way before he even began idol training and preparing to debut. During that time, you’d lost touch, thanks to his rigorous training process and dedication to his craft. But a couple years into the limelight and you found your way back to each other. Fate was a funny concept.

You were currently standing at a high-top table, mindlessly chatting with some guy from the PR department. Haknyeon had disappeared to grab you some drinks to kill time before you could finally leave. Sunwoo stayed back to keep you occupied while he was gone, but at some point, you heard Eric calling for him and he, too, had wandered off. You kind of wished you went with him, now stuck with this random man you didn’t know.

“You’re really pretty, Y/N,” the guy says, smiling at you. “Haknyeon is very lucky.”

You laugh awkwardly, thanking him for the compliment. He kept inching closer to you, making it palpable that he was flirting in spite of his awareness towards your relationship. The dude clearly couldn’t take a hint, oblivious to your uncomfortability. You didn’t want to be rude, though. These were the people who worked with your boyfriend on a near daily basis.

Where the hell was Haknyeon?

“Does he treat you well?” He asks, clearly steering the conversation in a specific direction. You know what he’s aiming at, but you pretend to be ignorant to his attempts.

“He’s an exceptional boyfriend, actually. He treats me like a princess.” You state, eyes darting around the large event hall in search of said boyfriend. If he didn’t come to your rescue soon, you feared you’d say something worthy of putting his career on the line.

“If that’s truly the case, why is he nowhere to be found? How could such a good partner leave his girlfriend all alone like this?” The gaslighting is hilarious. The fact that this guy genuinely felt he was so much better than Haknyeon, that he was much more attractive, was laughable. He sincerely thought he was powerful enough to come between your secure, loving relationship.

“Here you go, baby,” a drink is placed in front of you, a kiss left on your temple. “What are you and Seojun talking about?”

Haknyeon’s arm wraps snugly around your waist. To anyone else, he’d look normal. He was remaining neutral, lips pulled into a thin line but curved at the ends so it appeared that he was being nice. But you knew otherwise. You knew this calm was just a facade to hide how pissed off he really was. His jealousy wasn’t because he didn’t trust you. His jealousy was because he didn’t trust others.

Namely Jung Seojun, the PR department’s resident fuckboy.

You glance up at your boyfriend, surprised there wasn’t any drool rolling down your chin. You couldn’t help but be drawn into the darkness of his eyes and his clenched jaw. The best part of this was what lies ahead of you once you get home. Maybe this night wasn’t a total bust.

“Oh. Um. Just, you know, the usual pleasantries…” This dude was a shitty liar. He was fortunate that he hadn’t actually made a move on you, lest he wanted to keep his job. Ju Haknyeon didn’t play around when it came to you, the love of his life.

Thankfully, you don’t stay at the party much longer. He tried to keep his cool until it was deemed acceptable to make his exit, but at a certain point, he just couldn’t anymore. The drive home wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a thick tension filling the atmosphere. If it weren’t for the driver in the same car, you’re sure his hands would’ve been all over you.

So, the moment you step through the threshold of the dorms, door barely locked, Haknyeon’s pinning you to the surface. His lips are searing on your own, rough but soft all at once. His fingers don’t know where they want to rest, first tangled in your hair and then digging into your hips only a second later. Your head is dizzy, spinning around a mantra of his name and nothing else.

He bunches up the fabric of your dress, pulling back slightly to catch his breath. “Who the hell did he think he was? Talking to my pretty girl like he was deserving of her presence?”

“Hak…” You sigh, his mouth trailing down the side of your neck. He nips and sucks at the base, and then again where it meets your jaw. You hated when men flirted with you, but God if it didn’t result in such a thrilling experience. Your regularly sweet, gentle boyfriend becoming someone nearly unrecognizable drove you crazy.

“Hmm?” His hands hook under your thighs, picking you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You can feel him this way, already so hard and ready for you. You don’t think you can handle waiting for all the foreplay, your entire body tingling with want and desire.

“Need you to fuck me,” you whine, head lolling to the side when he sucks at that particularly sensitive area on your throat. “Want you so bad…”

“Yeah, princess? Gonna fuck you so good that you’ll be ruined for anyone else. No one can give it to you like I do.” He chuckles into your skin, pushing your dress up further and kissing your shoulders after the straps have slid off. Ju Haknyeon might actually be the death of you.

That was your favorite thing about sex with him. He was so uncharacteristically cocky, so uncharacteristically aggressive in the way he manhandled you. You moan when he shoves aside your underwear, undoing his slacks enough to slip his cock free. He presses into you slowly, forehead falling to your shoulder with a groan.

One of his hands comes up to fist at your hair, yanking back so he can bite at your jugular and exposed chest some more. He thrusts up into your cunt with what feels like ease in spite of your walls squeezing him. His hips snap up and meet your ass with every kiss of his cock to that spongy spot deep inside of your pussy. Everything is moving too fast, but not fast enough at the same time.

“W-What if someone comes home?” You gasp, fingers getting lost in the hair at the nape of his neck. As much as you were enjoying this, you don’t know what you’d do if one of his members walked in on you. For sure, you’d be mortified, unable to show your face around the dorm ever again.

“Who cares? Let them see how well you’re taking it,” he mutters, sucking in your supple skin and ensuring bruises are left in his wake. “I should let everyone witness how good I fuck you, right baby? Marking you all up so the world knows your mine.”

A loud moan rips from your vocal cords, his cock so deep inside of you that you’re starting to see stars. Haknyeon grins against your sternum knowing that you’re enjoying this as much as he is. You wanted him to stake his claim on your body, wanted anyone who could see to know that you were his. Even the way he fucked into you had that same purpose, like his dick was meant to be there. It was almost as if your cunt was acclimating to the shape of it.

“Fuck, feels so so good, Hak…” You whine, lower half squirming when that knot in your stomach is about to unravel. Your toes curl and your back arches off of the door, legs spreading wider in an attempt to suck him in further. “I’m gonna— oh god— I’m—”

You don’t even finish your sentence, your orgasm washing over you without a moment’s notice. The feeling of your cunt fluttering around his cock has Haknyeon groaning, twitching and spilling into you seconds later. He fucks his own release back inside of you, teeth sinking into your collarbone to steel himself.

The two of you stay like that for a minute, catching your breaths in spite of his cum beginning to leak out of you. He kisses the crown of your sweaty forehead. “You did so well, princess.”

Just like earlier, you’re interrupted before you can reply, the sound of keys jingling on the other side of the door. You share a look of terror, scrambling to his room so you don’t get caught. You both flop onto his bed in a fit of giggles, recalling how he’d said he didn’t care who saw you in such a compromising state.

“You’re all talk, aren’t you?” You tease.

“Oh, just you wait, baby,” he shakes his head, moving to hover over you. “I’ll make you regret that you said that.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz haknyeon #tbz haknyeon #ju haknyeon x reader #ju haknyeon smut #haknyeon x reader #haknyeon smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

155 notes · View notes

greeenchrysanthemums · 9 months ago

Text

@thatlesbainmushroom and @jjlovesgoodies (hope you don't mind the tags, I was not sure how else to make sure you seen this<3) both said yes to hearing about my roomies zombie au, so here it is!! Though, I must admit that it is more of a half-baked idea than a fully thought out au. I'm not sure if I will ever actually write it, so it's free game with credit.

I suppose a TW is required before you read any further. It is a zombie au, so it is pretty grim. Mentions of death, blood, injury, and other apocalypse typical things.

Etho and Cleo were college roommates before everything went to shit. Cleo was a graphic design and arts student in her fourth year, while Etho was an engineering student in his second year. They have been together since the start, and were actually in their dorm room when the chaos started. Bdubs used to be with them, but they lost track of him (and his horse) months ago. They assume he is dead.

Grian was a first year architect student from a few towns over. His group consisted of his roommates, Jimmy and Joel, along with his work friend, Scar.

None of them had ever used a gun before the apocalypse, so it is none of their preferred weapon. Cleo has a baseball bat, Grian has a knife, and Etho has a machete. Etho and Grian both carry handguns but rarely use them. Cleo knows how to use a gun but does not carry one and would have to be in mortal danger to be convinced to use it.

Cleo is immune to the bite, something they found out at the beginning because a classmate had bitten her and she never turned. Though, this immunity would not hold any narrative weight. The world has fallen apart, there wouldn't be anyone left to try to find a cure from her anyway. They are just focused on surviving and trying to keep each other safe.

However, because of her immunity, she does take risks that Etho doesn't/can't. She used to be a real softy, not much a fighter who was all bark no bite, but she would do anything to protect Etho. She has many scars, from bites and scratches, because of this reckless behavior.

It would start with Grian having just been separated from his group and he's been wandering around the remains of a big city looking for them. He eventually gets overwhelmed by a hoard and ends up cornered in an alley, where he is then saved by Etho, who kills the zombies and offers to bring him back to his camp.

Grian says no and tells him he has to keep looking for his group, but Etho is persistent. Grian caves and agrees to go with him when Etho offers to help look for his missing friends; no strings attached.

The group traverses the remains of the burning world together for several months looking for Grian's group and slowly getting to know each other. Etho and Cleo share information freely, but Grian is more reserved. He only answers simple questions about his past. They barley know anything about this group they are trying to find. Instead of opening up as the months' pass by, he actually becomes more and more reserved.

He keeps asking why they keep helping him when they have no obligation to do so, especially since he's given them next to no information or reason to trust him, and they say why not? They don't have anything better to do than lend him a helping hand.

Grian leads them more and more northwest as time goes on, telling them that he was told to head in this direction to meet back up with his group, but still, they find no trace of them.

Around 6-7 months into traveling together, the group do a supply run in a mall that they thought was safe and end up getting trapped inside with no way out after Grian brings some kind of a display/structure down on top of himself on accident and it attracts a hoard that was hidden away out of sight.

They are very low on ammo, Etho was bit while getting Grian out from under the display, Grian was injured by the accident, and they're all too exhausted and malnourished to fight. They make it into a staff area, but there's no exit that they see, so they barricade the door. It is only a matter of time before the hoard breaks through.

Sitting inside of the small room, Grian admits to them that his group was already dead and had been for a while. He tells them that he had actually been ready to die that day Etho found him. He felt bad letting Etho's kindness (which was a rarity in this dying world) go to waste, so he went along with it.

He was just along for the ride at first, leading them on a wild goose chase while waiting for a chance to leave them, but then he grew to care for them. He never thought he would find friends again in a world like this, but, somehow, he did. They gave him a purpose, a reason to keep going. They made him want to live again. They made him happy. They made him laugh; something so simple and yet so important.

He didn't want them to leave him behind once they found out the truth, so he'd kept lying to them and pretending like he was still searching so that they would have a reason to keep helping him, a reason to have him around.

He was closing himself off all that time in an attempt to hold onto the one good thing in his life. He tells them that he's sorry, that he loves them, and that he's scared.

Cleo and Etho say they don't care that he's been lying, and that he's just as important to them as they are to him. They say that whatever happens next, they'll do it together.

And then in my mind it would end somewhat ambiguously/open ended as the zombie's break through.

#grian #zombiecleo #ethoslab #the roomies #secret life roomies #secret life #hermitcraft #I had it in my mind that they would call the zombies “boogies” as a reference to the boogie man curse #but i was worried people might find too silly XD #in my mind bdubs is still alive somewhere #found and taken in by the mounders I imagine #and they eventually meet back up with him if the ending is a good one #cw: death #implied death #zombie apocalypse #apocalypse au #if you want a happy ending then they use the rest of their ammo to hold off the zombies #and are able to find a way out in time and it turns out that etho is also immune #or if you want sad but not too sad they make it out but etho is not immune so he grows sick #and he dies after a heartfelt goodbye and grian + Cleo burry him somewhere nice #or a more realistic ending to the situation they ended up in they die in each others arms #really it can go any way that you want #tell me if i should tag this as anything else!#oh also as for the “display” I wasn't sure how to explain it #I am imagining some sort of gazebo/stall that he kicks the support beam of thinking it is secure #and it comes down on top of him #but my words are not the best

122 notes · View notes

mysticalsoot · 1 year ago

Text

someone to live with

part 2 to someone to (not) die with

➸ note; i know i said id post this at 8- but I was watching heartland with my mom and like.. sobbed like a baby anyways, hope you enjoy!!

➸ pairing; revivebur x gn!reader // c!wilbur x gn!reader

➸ summary; after wilbur's death and a too long to think, you ask your sister to help you. she does but maybe her methods work a bit too well.

➸ warning; slight hurt/big comfort, suicide mentions, kissing, easily forgiving reader, ghostbur goes to a happy limbo, probably swearing

➸ age-rating; 15+

➸ wordcount; 3.1k

main masterlist // part 1

wilbur's funeral was quicker than most, and not many people showed up. if anything, it was mostly you and his father and brothers. Niki came by, your sister Grace did too. but in all honesty, not many people bothered to pay their respects.

you also kept it quiet, taking a few days before the funeral to really let everything sink in, to let the fact he left the bouquet you gave him on the spot he wanted to be buried. it was just by the hill he used to sit on, the one he took you to and told you all about his dreams for the future. for lmanburg and for the future you both hoped to share.

you wouldn't be sharing that future now.

despite that; the time since wilbur's death went by slowly, and was utterly agonizing. your home felt colder, although it could've been winter slowly creeping up, you chalked it up to the lack of your partner. or maybe it was his ghost that wandered your halls that emanated that cold. or maybe he just contributed to it. whatever it was, you found yourself spending more time out in the snow sitting by his grave than sitting by the fire in your living room.

you'd talk to him, or rather the corpse of his that was buried a few feet down in a hand built coffin that his older brother forged through anger. Techno wasn't known for tears.

but you were. you wouldn't be surprised if your tears eventually froze over whenever you spoke to his grave, as the days were getting colder and the chill of the wind started to burn your cheeks.

ghostbur was nice, you thought. a nice distraction. he was kind and sweet and he was all the good of Wilbur and more. he wasn't Wilbur, he made that clear, but you knew that the moment you met him. he caught you on a less than good day, wandering around your house, mindlessly walking the halls and dissociating to the point you weren't sure what was going on or where you were.

but he came knocking on your doorstep, friend behind him. you took him in, since he had nowhere else to go. you helped him stable up friend, put him in the pen and set him up in the fields while you brought ghost in and helped him warm up. you kept him away from the snow and cold, helping him become afloat again. he stayed back with you, keeping an eye on you and giving you blue any time he could. he loved spending time with you, caring for you.

he was a good friend, and he hoped that's what he always would be.

no matter how many times you'd tell him how wonderful of a friend he was, he wouldn't believe it. even when you brought up the time he saved you a week after he walked into your life. you were so close to ending it all, jumping off the edge and joining your wilbur. but he stopped you, he managed to talk you down and he held you and promised to protect you, and that he did. he protected you, he cared for you and even if your relationship was platonic at best, he was a wonderful partner.

meanwhile, wilbur was pent up in limbo. pacing the platform, listening to the sounds of the train passing by not once stopping for him. he was going crazy, mind you he already was, but this was a whole new level.

there wasn't much to do up there, time passed so much more slowly. there weren't any books to busy him with, all he could do was sit and listen to the screeching and taunting of the train. the sounds drove him mad, a constant reminder of what he can never reach, what he can't get back. what he destroyed with his selfish ways.

he nearly ripped his hair out, with the way regret and stress was eating at his dead form. he was tired, lost and he couldn't get it out of his mind what mistakes he'd made. the long list of things he'd ruined with his own presence.

sometimes he'd wonder if it's better that he's dead. maybe he shouldn't bother with troubling thoughts of how to get back. you must be thriving, he hopes you're thriving.

you weren't. it's crawling up to the two month anniversary, and to say the least, you were losing it. you were good at pretending, pretending that you were okay and healing but in reality; you weren't. you were staying up at night, clinging to his old trench coat and shutting your eyes in hopes you could pretend he was there and would materialize into his coat at any moment. it felt stupid to do this, but it kept you from being pushed onto the ledge.

"Grace?" you whisper, holding your cup of tea close to your chest, sitting behind her counter at her flower shop. your sister was always a safe place for you, especially when you couldn't sift through your thoughts on your own. she helped.

"mm?" she hums, turning to face you with a smile before returning to the flowers she was working on. a small winter themed display for the Christmas festival she was preparing for. as for every other shop owner in L'manburg.

"have you.. have you learnt anything about revival?" you managed to mumble out, eyes casted down on the floor as you set aside your tea.

"I've done some research," you didn't catch the way she froze for a moment, as if she was buffering. and you especially didn't know that her research pertained to reviving the same person you wished to.

"how much?"

"enough." she sighs out, tying a ribbon around the bunch of stems, placing the bouquet on display before cleaning up her workstation.

"how hard is it? to revive someone, I mean." you bit your lip, nearly drawing blood before you quit, looking away again but this time outside the front windows.

"is this about wilbur?"

she didn't need to ask, she already knew. it's always about wilbur. you fidget with your fingers, wringing your hands together as you shrug, "maybe."

"if.. and I mean, if. if you revive him, he may not be the same," Grace frowns, walking over to you and bringing you into a hug. for a younger sister, she acted like an older, doting sister occasionally.

"at least I'll have him back, y'know?" you shrug again, raising your shoulders before dropping them in defeat, leaning deeper into her hug.

"I'll help," she draws in a breath, calculating her next words as she steps back to look at you, "if you promise to not blame anyone but him if he comes back an ass, okay?" she cracks a smile, chuckling softly at her own words as your own lips curl up and you roll your eyes.

"fine-" you pause, mind reeling as you remember ghostbur. how could you hurt him?

"what will happen to ghostbur?"

Grace shrugs, pulling away and turning to grab some more flowers to put together, "he'll be sent to limbo."

"so he'll die?" regret bubbles up in your throat like bile, and your eyes widen at the thought.

"no, no," she starts before stopping, biting her bottom lip, "he'll go to his own limbo."

"is that good?"

her shoulders lift, mouth curled in a frown and uncertainty paints on her face, "in theory, yes. I'm sure he'll be fine. it's- he'll be okay."

"if.. if getting back wil hurts ghost- i- I can't do that to him, Grace," your lips curl downwards and you step into the main area of the shop, grabbing some baby's breath and setting it on the counter by your sister.

"it won't hurt him. i promise," she rests her hand on yours, shooting you a soft and sympathetic gaze.

you take in a breath and nod, "okay, when can we start?"

you were sure that the rivival process was long and tedious, and maybe it was but-- grace liked to work alone. she'd update you when you showed up at her shop every morning, reassuring you that everything was fine.

it was a few days before ghostbur disappeared, which grace warned you about. you just hoped he was okay. despite the lack of the beloved ghost, you still hadn't found wilbur, and Grace was becoming more suspicious.

she avoided your questions, choosing short answers and it seemed like she was pulling herself at both ends, spreading herself thin. you were worried but Tom didn't know anything, and Grace wasn't letting you in on it anytime soon.

"why can't I see them, grace?" wilbur pried, sitting on the bench in the back of Grace's shop.

"I don't trust you yet. you haven't proved to me that you won't hurt them," she toyed with the ribbon she held, melting the ends to keep it from freying.

"you've threatened me enough, I think that's plenty of reason-"

"no, wilbur, you killed yourself and left them off on their own. threatening isn't enough for you to get it through your head that your fucking existence could hurt them! sometimes that's all you do," she scoffs, placing down the ribbon and picking up the next one, sealing the ends again. she takes a moment, listening to the silence of the room, the silence that's fallen on wilbur. she rolls her eyes, huffing before she continues, "I'm sorry, okay? but I've had to watch my sibling suffer because of your decisions, and they suffered longer than you've been dead," she pauses, shutting her eyes and taking a breath before continuing, "I'm not trying to be hard on you, I promise but- just, please understand, wil."

"I know, I know I've hurt them but I promise, I can make it better. weren't they the one that asked to revive me?" he counters, standing up and making his way to stand beside grace, towering over her and resting his hand on her shoulder.

"yes, they were but- I warned them and I just don't want them hurt."

"I won't hurt them," he starts, resting his hands on both her shoulders, "I promise."

she pulls back, "fine, but remember the second I catch wind that you've hurt them, say goodbye to living. and your reproductive organs."

"I think killing me is good enough," he laughs softly, pulling grace into a hug and mumbling, "thank you, so much,"

"yeah, sure."

"I'll see you later, yeah?" wilbur's lips curl into a smile as he practically bounces towards the door. he hurries out of the flower shop, determination taking over and hope filling his veins.

all the while you're out by his grave, again. maybe you should build something in honor of ghostbur, you think. he's not here anymore, hopefully in a better place so surely you should do something to honor his memory. just like you did with wilbur. like you always did.

you sifted your fingers through the grass, tugging at it gently, trying not to fully rip it but just mess with it. your mind runs miles an hour, wandering through thoughts and feelings that haven't quite healed yet.

moss has begun to grow on his headstone, flowers grace planted around it now blooming up around the stone. it's heavily weathered, the words.

'wilbur soot. beloved son, friend, partner, brother and president. 1996-2020.'

they're painted on and the snow and sleet has worn it down, its barely visible. the words ghost on the stone. but you have it memorized, by reading it over before you had it made, and then reading it over and over again for hours every day since his death. like a mantra, even if it has no purpose other than to hurt you.

you'd been sitting there for who knows how long, your fingers felt like icicles but you barely noticed the pricking cold. you weren't sure what you were hoping for, praying for by sitting alone but it was something.

the sound of fabric waving in the wind, and footsteps crunching on the grass, and then the scent hits you; cigarettes and cologne. mixed together and hitting your nose sharply. you bite your lip, letting your breath catch in your throat, not bothering to look behind you.

"wilbur?" you mumble, and then you hear his smile form, a little puff of air let out with it.

"hello, my love," he stands beside you, waiting for you to invite him to sit with you. you glance up at him, mouth slightly agape.

"you're alive."

"yeah, I am. thank god grace let me go. finally-" he chuckles, and for the first time in a while, you smile. a genuine smile.

"what? she kept you cooped up?" you pat the spot beside you, keeping your eyes up on you.

"yes, she did. and she threatened my livelihood," he follows your guide, sitting beside you and letting his legs stretch out before him. you finally catch a glance at the discoloration on his face, the bruises and patches of skin too pale or too tan.

"oh? so she threatened to neuter you?" you meet his eyes finally, smile soft but clear on your face.

"that's her favorite threat," he chuckles softly, fingers twitching as if he was going to reach for you. he takes a sharp breath, looking forward and out on the horizon over the hill. he takes a moment before pulling something out of his trench coat pocket, but you stop him short.

"you grabbed the coat?" you frown, fingers reaching out to play with the fabric, rubbing it between your fingertips. you glance up at him and he finally reaches forward, hand on your cheek and thumb rubbing your skin.

"it wasn't the only thing I grabbed," he sucks in a breath, pulling his hand away and taking out two rings, the rings he left for you, "i found them, on the mantle and i- I wanted to do what I didn't before."

"so you've been in our house?"

"is that what you take from this?" he chuckles, leaning forward and kissing your forehead. to his surprise, you don't flinch away but rather lean into it and sigh.

"maybe, but- are you.."

"proposing? if you're okay with it," he starts, pulling the rings off the string and putting his hand out for yours. you nod and give him your hand. he slips the ring on and begins again, "will you marry me?"

"mmm.. I don't know- will I?" you crack a smile before chuckling softly, "yes, yes I will. idiot."

he pulls you into a hug, your right leg tossed over his lap as you both pull one another closer. and then you pull back and reach your hand out, palm up.

"what?"

"the ring, it's only fair."

"oh?" wilbur smiles, handing you the wedding band he intended on wearing. you slip it on his ring finger before kissing each of his finger tips.

"I missed you,"

"I missed you too," he leans closer, resting his hand on your cheek again and stroking the skin.

"mm, I'm sure you've had plenty of time to miss me," the corner of your mouth twitches upwards into a smirk. you stand up, reaching your hand down for him to take as you help him up to stand. he rests his hands on your hips, squeezing gently before leaving a kiss on your cheek.

"too much time," he mumbles, holding you close and hugging you, "I'm sorry, for all I've done. I know that no words can account for all that I've put you through but I- I hope you can find a way to put up with me."

"don't worry, I forgave you a while ago. you were stupid but, dream is dead and it's because of what you pulled. we have you to thank for that."

"I'm still sorry," he winces, and you grab his hand, leading him back to the cabin as you shrug.

"I know, and you're going to have to do a lot more than say sorry for other people. but for me, you're lucky I missed you so much. otherwise, I probably wouldn't have asked to have you revived."

"I know but-" you shoot him a warning look, silently telling him to shut his trap before he starts whining again, "okay, okay, I get it."

"good, now- let's go enjoy ourselves yeah? get you a shower and go to bed. because, love you, darling but you reek." you chuckle, tugging him by his hand up the stairs of your porch, hurrying in and shutting the door behind you.

he pulls you to him by your hips, swaying you gently before he leans down to pull you into a kiss, lips licking together in a way they haven't in over six months, you think. much longer than he's been dead.

you reach your arms up, wrapping them around his neck as you both tug one another together, your bodies now pressed up. the warmth he spreads wraps around you and you've never felt more at home.

the kiss doesn't end until you both have to gasp for air, and you drop your head to press against his chest. he rubs your back with his hands, gentle circles spun over your shirt.

"do I really reek?" he croons, looking up at the ceiling as your fingers grasp at his shirt.

"yes you do,"

he attempts to get out of it, poking out a gentle pout and you pull back. folding your arms over your chest as you shake your head, smirking at the way he tries to beg like a puppy.

"wilbur- you do realize I was going to make brownies while you showered, right?" you knew the moment you mentioned baked goods, he'd do whatever you asked. he'd do whatever you asked anyway, but a little bribe never hurt anyone.

"wait really?" his eyes light up and his pout falls off and is replaced with an excited grin. you nod and he lunges down to press thankful kisses all over your face, giggling happily as he holds you by your sides, fingers curling over your waist.

"yes- god, you only love me for my baking?"

"no, but it is a plus," he pulls back, placing a quick peck to your lips before sprinting up the stairs for him to shower. you shake your head, smile clear as day on your lips as you venture into the kitchen to begin baking.

despite everything, the pain and turmoil and living without him, you're glad you asked to have him revived, even if it meant some sacrifice. yet the more you think of it, you're gonna have to thank grace for holding your fiance hostage tomorrow.

taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @willgoldszn @whos-nicooo @zebonos

honorable tags (asked for part 2); @babybabygrogu @tacomumun3r

140 notes · View notes

steviewashere · 4 months ago

Text

Time loop fic where there's elements of Life is Strange; so a fusion of sorts, but not an exact au.

Steve Harrington, a seemingly normal dude—almost a nobody, is chosen to have these time-altering powers; similar to how Max Caulfield did in Life is Strange, where she traveled through old photos. In which he realizes the "destiny" of it all is to try and save Eddie Munson from supernatural danger/death. It happens when Eddie "dies" from the demobats. And right as Steve actually reverses time to save him, he's spat back out into 1983, following an aloof, and wanting to do good for the world, Eddie Munson.

(Also, Eddie would come to know about Steve's powers. He'd wonder: why me? Why Steve? He'd think of his life to be selfish, it would be a whole thing. Anyway.) My full idea is under the cut, I'm so sorry for rambling.

Eddie gets caught up trying to find Will Byers in 1983—nearly drowns when he discovers a "body"; Steve is there sulking (over something, you decide what) and notices somebody swimming out, doesn't think anything of it until they sink and don't come up for forty-five seconds—he jumps into lifeguard mode.

Eddie is at the junkyard trying to find metal scraps for a D&D map he's handcrafting for a campaign, gets caught up in the demodogs—Steve shoves him out of the way, all the while taking a gnarly claw to the chest. He survives, but it's a near sort of thing.

Eddie wanders out from a showing of a late night movie, Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are drugged out by the water fountains, he follows them to the bathroom where they proceed to tell him how Steve got beat up, he overhears a confession he probably wasn't supposed to be privy to—eventually, he's out fighting the mind flayer, being told to duck and get down by Steve Harrington.

The events of 1986 happen, as they initially played out. Except, this time, Steve has the memory of what it's like to watch Eddie come close to death. Over and over and over again. He had moments in time where he knew what it was like to be covered in Eddie's blood; knowing he cared too much and had to go back.

He's in 1986, staring at Eddie Munson's big, doe eyes. "Don't be a hero," he says—a threat, no longer a warning. And he's faced with two choices:

Save Eddie Munson OR

Save Hawkins, Indiana

If he saves Eddie, he swaps places with Dustin. If Dustin takes Steve's place, the demobats are no longer distracted. Steve realizes something that he must do. He has to abort mission, like what should've happened in the first place. Instead of fighting, Steve hauls Eddie out as soon as the others leave for Vecna's lair. Eddie squawks, protests, tries to put up a fight. But it's no use. Steve is set in stone. He could've left Eddie to rot in the Upside Down, but coming to know him, coming to know every version of Eddie, coming to know his family and his life and his secrets over the years (even if it seems like seconds to everybody else), Steve can't stomach that. He cares too much; knows what he wants.

Eddie is what he wants.

And Vecna, the Upside Down, Eleven's powers, the resurgence of the ugly and awful every year can finally be over if he makes this choice.

Up to this point, he had used the missing posters of Eddie to save him, to go back through time. But each time he goes back in time, Vecna gets stronger and stronger. If he tries it again, he knows they'll be fucked even if he actually does save Eddie.

He can choose to save Eddie.

He can leave Hawkins all behind, right before the demobats come flooding through the trailer. He can quickly escort Eddie out. In doing so, however, the demobats get to Vecna's lair. The demobats kill the others. Vecna gets Max. Jason gets Lucas. And Erica doesn't fair any better. In the end, with Steve and Eddie skipping town, Hawkins is destroyed by Vecna and his powers, succumbing. Everybody in this scenario dies. Eddie will not be known as a "satanic murderer", he would not face the death penalty after surviving the Upside Down and coming back to Hawkins; nobody will know that he was there when Chrissy died.

With choosing to save Eddie, Steve will forever live with a gnawing guilt towards the others. He would become less of who he was. He'd be forever altered. He would know that Hawkins succumbing would be his entire fault.

If he doesn't save Eddie, the events of season four still happen. However, Vecna doesn't win. With Eddie's death, Vecna dies—almost like they have an odd hive mind connection (you choose how or why Eddie has this connection, I don't have the brain to do so).

Steve comes out of the Upside Down with Nancy, Robin, and Dustin. He comes out clean and harm-free. Max does, and Lucas, and Erica. Everybody is safe—except for Eddie.

Since the town doesn't go into ruin, Wayne doesn't go to the high school when the trailer is ruined. He's still putting up the posters around town.

I think, too, that outside of Eddie knowing, Nancy would know. Because I mean, come on. She's the journalist, knows of the crazy other worldly shit. She had been somebody that Steve trusted, and he trusted her in turn. He comes to her with this knowledge. And they know, with the outcome of Eddie's death, they have to break the news. Edit: I also think Robin would come to know, she'd spot something wrong with Steve and she'd beg for him to tell her; she believes him, of course, and helps however she can.

They tell Wayne. Who takes it as well as any mourning father would.

And in the end, when Wayne isn't looking, Steve and Nancy take the rest of the missing posters. They take down all the other ones around town.

They burn them. Burn all of the missing posters. They burn any trace Steve has of interacting with Eddie in 1983, 1984, 1985. He gets rid of it all.

Steve won't forget who Eddie Munson is. And, yes, unfortunately, the town will still think of Eddie as the "satanic murderer". But everybody else would be safe. And in Eddie's last moments, right before he succumbs to his injuries, he tells Steve, "Do it. For Dustin. Nancy. Robin...Wayne."

If he doesn't save Eddie, Steve will forever live with a gnawing guilt anyway. He will know that Eddie's death was something he could not prevent, even if he wanted to. He would know that Eddie's death isn't his fault, it was supposed to happen in the first place, but he interfered just in time. Only Nancy would know of Steve's choice, of his guilt. (This wouldn't bring them together romantically (don't think of this as me pushing a stancy agenda onto you or whatever), but this would lead to a deeper understanding of their friendship; Nancy couldn't save Barb, Steve couldn't save Eddie. Something, something: You can't save people, you can only love them.)

And that's the dilemma that Steve would have to wade through. Does he sacrifice the guy that meets everything that Steve has ever wanted, the guy that he created literal years worth of memories with, the one he was so set in stone over saving; does he live with the guilt of killing his other friends? Or does he save the family he's come to know, just with a black, absent spot where the rest of his family should be—Eddie Munson; the guilt from his death instead?

Is Eddie worth saving?

That's the thought going through his head when he looks back at Eddie in the Upside Down. Is Eddie worth saving?

(Also, this could work as Jonathan x Steve or, another angsty one I just thought of, Jonathan x Nancy.)

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #life is strange #life is strange fusion #life is strange au #angst

31 notes · View notes

agentmarcuspike · 1 year ago

Text

"All My Casualties of Love"

pairing: joel miller x reader/oc (third person, unnamed) cw: descriptions of injuries, unprotected piv, painful sex (it's not supposed to hurt!!), murder (they had it coming), flashbacks, tess is dead (rip), no ellie wordcount: 5k a/n: i've spent too long editing this and i'm still not happy so... please just take it

Joel had decided to never love again. His brother left to find a different life, he lost his partner to the horrors, and now he finds himself wandering, gathering courage to end it all, secretly yearning for a reason not to. And then he finds her. And she ruins everything.

The smoke rises thick and black from the burning house as Joel passes it from a safe distance, the fire emitting some light to the surroundings, but not enough to reach him. He has his rifle on his chest, fingers on his handgun, in case the fire attracts anyone, even though the thick dark and the snow covered ground muffling his steps feels like protection enough. The rare winter storm had narrowly avoided him, but a stray bolt of lightning must have found the house, he gathers.

It’s been months since he’s seen another person. Walking through the deep forest, the sound of only crunching leaves and screaming birds driving him insane before the snow came and softened everything, and he swears he has started hallucinating. Even now, as he moves a little closer to the burning house, stealing some warmth from the flames, he swears he hears something. It must just be his lonely mind playing tricks on him though, and he’s about to turn and walk away when he hears it again.

A scream.

The sound is all too familiar, and his breath hitches in his throat. Driven by instinct he starts running towards the noise, but stops himself to think. It could be a trap. It could also be someone in need of help. But that’s not his problem. Not in this world. And yet, when he hears the yell again, he can’t stop his feet from running.

In the orange glow of the flames, about ten meters from the house, Joel can barely make out the contours of a person, face down in the snow, crawling in the opposite direction. Rifle pointed forwards, he takes a few more steps.

“Hey!” he bellows. The figure freezes, and as he gets closer, gun still pointed at them, he can tell it’s a young woman. No older than 30. She doesn’t look sick, but he asks anyway. No response. He moves to stand in front of her, the butt of his rifle still pressed firmly against his shoulder.

“I asked you a question,” he repeats. “You infected?”

The smoke moves heavily around them, and he pulls her to her feet, dragging her towards the road where he came from. When they’re clear of the smoke, he throws her to the ground, pushing the gun back in her face until she scrambles up on her knees and meets his gaze.

Something in her eyes reminds him of the past. A something he’s buried deep down. Six feet to be exact. The look of fear. An emotion he hasn’t had much of for the past fifteen years, because he hasn’t had anything to lose. He lost everything long ago.

“If you’re gonna turn it’s better I end it for you right now.” He still hasn’t looked at her without the weapon between them.

“I’m not,” she finally manages, not breaking eye contact. He doesn’t want to believe her, but he does.

“Good for you,” he replies, finally lowering the weapon a bit.

He doesn’t admit, to her or himself, that he wouldn’t actually mind too much if she did turn, thinking it might be an okay way for him to go. Maybe saving her even if she was already doomed might give him some extra karma points before he goes himself.

While the dark makes it hard to see anything at all, his aging eyes not helping, he can see enough to give her a quick once over, making sure she isn’t too hurt and be on his way. But he doesn’t move. The way her eyes never leave his, how she never raised her hands in surrender like people usually do when he aims at them. He’s not sure what it is he sees. Whether it’s just the reflection of the fire in the distance, or something else sparkling, something resembling a will to live, a thirst for life. Which it can’t be, not out here, not anymore. Right?

She doesn’t move until he does.

Desperate, impatient, gulping, choking down the water, thirsty from the smoke she inhaled. He has given her his water bottle, knowing he can easily melt more snow later. They’re walking side by side in the forest, out of sight, but with the road they’re following almost visible through the trees.

She gives Joel the bottle back, and he briefly considers letting her keep it, but accepts it with a nod.

He clears his throat before speaking.

“So…” He looks in towards the thick forest. “If you just follow the road, you should get to some old cabins. Just… keep an eye out for people and…” He looks at her briefly, giving a nod to signal he doesn’t really have anything else to say.

“Where are you going?” she asks, voice breaking a little.

“Setting up camp for the night.”

“Oh.”

They stand about two meters apart, both looking at the ground.

“Well…” he begins, as he takes a step away from her.

“Thank you,” she cuts him off, throwing the words out like she wants to get rid of them. “I owe you one.”

Joel huffs. “You don’t owe me anythin’.” The last thing he wants is for someone to be indebted to him. That would involve some sort of connection, and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Well…” she mimics him. They give each other a nod, taking a few steps backwards, while turning and walking their different ways.

When he gets far enough into the thick woods to lay his ragged sleeping bag down on frozen ground rather than snow, curling up inside of it, waiting for sleep, he catches himself wondering if the woman has found a safe place for the night, somewhere warmer than the forest floor. But then he reminds himself, she’s not his responsibility to worry about. He already saved her once.

She’s slipping through his fingers. The scorching tongue of the fire licking his arms as he’s clutching her to his chest like when she was a baby. She used to love nuzzling into the crook of his neck. As she got older, she’d pretend she didn’t, but whenever she fell asleep on the couch, his arm around her little shoulders, her unconsciousness would still guide her face into him, and his calm breaths would rock her to sleep, exactly like he had just a few, and yet so many, years ago.

She’s not sleeping now. He’s running but his feet aren’t moving. The fire is catching up, surrounding them. He can see her mouth moving, a silent scream as the flames engulf her, and there’s nothing he can do. He yells, and screams, his muscles aching and burning from reaching for her. But she’s lost in the fire, and he’s untouched, hurt not from the inferno but the loss.

The fire crackles, a taunting sound, saying, “I have her now. And I won’t take you.”

Gunfire. Joel knew the sound all too well. He had heard it up close and personal. But the bullet that had once grazed the side of his head, at the hands of none other than himself, had made sure he’d never hear it again with more than one ear. He had learned to lean into conversation with his left side, always sleeping on the right.

But people make mistakes, and waking up with his good ear down and the sound of gunfire reaching through his bad one was a good indicator that he was also a person capable of fatal error.

Throwing himself around to look for the source of the sound, Joel is immediately confused by what he finds. On the ground a good fifty meters away from him, a body. But more confusing than that, right next to his head, a pair of boots. Connected to a pair of legs, it seems, and looking up, there she is, staring down the barrel of his own rifle. But it’s not pointed at him.

Another bang, and another body to the ground. Before he can wrap his head around the situation and reach for the handgun on his hip, a third gunshot rings out, followed by silence.

Walking side by side, Joel hasn’t uttered a word since he was suddenly awoken an hour or so earlier. Neither has she. He’s grateful they’ve equaled the debts now, and secretly wishes that would mean they could go their different ways without being duty-bound by karma, but he also figures he owes her a thank you.

“S’pose we’re even now,” he mumbles finally, eager to be done with talking.

“Guess so,” she replies with a half-smile.

A few more steps in silence. Joel’s breaths come more easily, relieved and ready to move on.

“So I’m–

“So where you headed?” she interrupts him.

He’s taken aback for a second, confused by the sudden change of pace in conversation.

“Uhm.” He debates with himself for a second. He’s not even sure he knows. “Just… west,” he lands on eventually.

She nods. “Just west,” she repeats.

More silence. He doesn’t know why, but Joel feels an intense urge to fill it.

“Did you follow me?” he asks eventually.

“Not at first.”

She tells him she was too shaken up and cold to sleep, so she stayed awake near the cabins he’d mentioned to her, which is where she heard a small group of people.

“One of them talked about seeing someone sleeping by themself in the woods, and they all went to check it out, so I followed them, assuming it was you they’d seen.”

She leaves out the part where she managed, armed with only a big branch and a pocketknife, to hit the one standing guard over the head without alerting the others closing up on Joel, and used the unconscious man’s weapon to gun down another one before getting to Joel and his rifle, but he can fill out the blanks himself.

The gun is now strapped to her hip, and she gives it a squeeze. It feels foreign, and it is. She had her own gun with her when she sought shelter in the house, the one she’d had with her for years, but there was no need to go back and look for it under the ashes now. Either way, this one she had preyed straight from a dead man’s hands. She’s done worse, and yet she feels bad about it.

“Thank you,” he says, eventually looking up at her. “For… that.”

She nods and gives him a half-smile. “I owed you one, didn’t I?”

She doesn’t give him much, and it’s not like he wants anything either, but he still feels compelled to ask. To know.

“You traveling alone, then?”

She doesn’t answer for a while.

“My sister…” she begins. Silence again. Joel thinks he understands. He’s about to tell her she doesn’t need to say anything when she continues.

“She was a baby when it began. I was basically a kid too, but when our parents got sick, it was just the two of us. I raised her I suppose. And then a few months back, we had a falling out. We ran into some people, they wanted to join us, she wanted them to join as well. I said no, felt too risky. So, she…” The woman takes a shaky breath. Joel wants to put his hand on her shoulder, show her he understands. He too has felt the pain of a younger sibling leaving. “She, uhm…”

“S’okay, niña,” is all Joel can muster. “You don’t have to go there.”

She sniffs quickly, and he thinks he sees her wipe a tear away, but then she huffs.

“Niña…?”

He looks at her with raised brows. “Somethin’ wrong with that?”

“Nothin’ wrong, viejo.”

A quick huff escapes him. She did not just…

“Oh, fuck off,” he groans, but he can’t hide his smile while she sneers.

The air feels lighter, and Joel takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“Guess we could share the road for a bit,” he grumbles to his feet, but he catches the smile she can’t contain in his side vision.

Avoiding the cabins Joel had suggested earlier, he didn’t think they would come across any more houses for a while.

But there it is. In the middle of the woods, covered in moss, surrounded by trees standing so thick the windows seem unnecessary as no light is going to seep through the branches anyway. It can barely be called a shack, but it has walls and a roof, and seeing as the trees stretch to cover the door as well, Joel guesses it must have been left alone for years, untouched.

He pulls out his knife to cut the branches covering the door, and his new companion takes out the pocketknife from her jacket and starts uncovering the windows on the same wall to see if it’s possible to have a glance inside.

“Wow…” she whispers from beside him, when she uncovers a sliver of glass and peeks inside.

“What? S’it look like anyone’s been in there?”

“No, it’s… Just get the door open.”

She goes to join him. Even with all the branches and roots and snow covering the bottom of the door removed, it will barely open when they both pull at it. Joel counts to three, and when they yank together it comes off its hinges, parts of the rotten tree of the frame coming with it. He moves it to the side, pulls his handgun out, and takes a step indoors.

As the daylight spills into the room, years of abandonment become glaringly evident. The shack, untouched for a long time, has gathered layers of dust and is swathed in an air of nostalgia. Cobwebs, like delicate lace curtains, hang in forgotten corners. A mysterious stillness prevails, only disrupted by the distant howl of the cold wind outside.

He understands her immediate reaction now. Wow, indeed. It’s like a time capsule. Clearly well lived-in, but not for years. Not since it all began, Joel thinks. It’s a tiny place, one room only. The floor hidden by the thick layer of dust, and the walls covered in frames and postcards. There’s a twin bed in one corner, and a loveseat in the other end of the room. The other corner houses a kitchenette, with a wood burning stove and jar on top of the bench that reads “cookies” in a quirky font.

“Wow…” The exclamation falls out of her again. Joel looks at her, once he’s certain that the place is safe. She’s looking at the pictures on the walls, touching their frames with a careful hand. He lets her have a moment and moves to open one of the two kitchen cabinets.

There’s not much there. A bag of microwave popcorn, despite there being no microwave, or seemingly any electrical outlets at all. Two cans of beans. A pack of instant ramen. It’s food until tomorrow, he thinks, puts them on the counter, and reaches to open the other cupboard.

He instinctively ducks as a swarm of black moths fly out. The sound of their collective fluttering wings has her turning as well, and she startles, gasping, the dark swarm moving straight to where she stands in front of the room’s only light source. She screeches, throwing herself to the floor and rolls around as the moths encircle her. Joel runs to waft them towards the open doorway, shimmying his jacket off to help.

She’s covering her head, laying completely still, as if she’s being attacked by stinging wasps and not gray butterflies, and when the moths finally scatter, he reaches out to carefully touch her back.

“You alright, chica?” he asks jokingly, squeezing her shoulder lightly. “They’re just moths, you’re okay.”

It’s another thirty seconds for her breath to slow. She sits up slightly, looking around, as if the moths are waiting for her. “I hate bugs so much,” she whispers. Joel can’t help but snicker. In a world full of zombies, and this girl is scared of insects. He grabs her hand, helping her back up to her feet where she wobbles for a second, clutching onto his sleeves.

“I got you.” The consolation just slips out of him. She looks up, mouth slightly open in surprise, before she bursts into laughter. The sound feels like oil in a rusty motor to his ears, and he can’t help but hold back a giggle himself. They stand there for a moment, letting their laughter fill the room, tears pressing out of her eyes.

Caught up in the moment, Joel reaches out to brush away a stray tear escaping her eyes and running down her cheek. He lingers a second too long, and her laughter softens quickly at the intimate gesture as she finds her breath again. She’s the first to look away.

“Look at this,” she says, clearing her throat and walking back towards the picture she was studying minutes ago. Joel walks up behind her, straining his eyes to see the details, his chest brushing her shoulder as he leans in closer.

The dusty gold frame, now a little shinier after her fingers brushing against its sides, wraps around an old faded photograph. Two people sit on a porch in front of a house, bigger than the one they’re in now but not a mansion. The little girl sits between the man’s legs, and they’re both grinning, the young girl seemingly in the middle of a guffaw. Neither of them looking at the camera, both too busy with each other.

A memory awakes in Joel, one he’s been shoving down again every time it’s threatened to spill out. But this time he lets it come. He’s sitting on a porch similar to the one in the picture, with his own little girl laughing in his lap. She was too ticklish (as was he), it was so easy to coax a laugh out of her, even if it always made her tickle him back, both refusing to stop until neither of them could catch a breath. His brother standing patiently behind the camera, wanting initially to get a proper portrait of the two, but ending up with dozens of silly candids, which was a better representation of the duo anyway.

“She looks like my baby sister.” Her words pull him roughly back to reality, a ringing in his head as if he’s just been slammed to the ground. He hasn’t noticed he’s been holding his breath, and a little gasp escapes him as he finds his way back to the present. The soft sound has her turning to him, and his head snaps to her when she carefully grabs his arm.

“You okay?” Her brows are furrowed, it’s a familiar grimace, even though he hasn’t looked in a mirror for months. Their eyes lock, and neither look away. Joel’s hand moves up to touch her elbow, letting her know she can let go of him, but she doesn’t. She keeps his gaze, and this time, he looks away first.

“There’s some food here. S’pose we could stay for the night.”

She looks to the one bed, and he quickly adds: “I’ll take the couch.”

“Don’t be stupid, man. You won’t even fit. You take the bed.”

He hurriedly sits down on the sofa, leaning his head back and crossing his arms determinedly.

“Already took this one. Too late.”

She sighs diligently, and rolls her eyes at him, moving towards the open doorway.

“Whatever, tió. I’m setting a trap or something,” she says as she exits the cabin.

Joel bites his tongue for acting so childish, he’s not sure what’s gotten into him, and he fights with himself to find an excuse that’ll stop her from going.

“Whaddya mean ‘or somethin’?”

But she’s already left.

They’ve eaten the beans and noodles cooked on Joel’s camp stove in silence. Stubbornly he’s made his way back on his couch, spine already aching from the springs poking through the cushions, and he’s watching his company take in the pictures she’s been staring at all evening.

“You said she looks like your sister,” he prods carefully when neither of them have said anything for what seems like, even to Joel, too long.

“Yeah…” she answers absentmindedly, back still turned to him.

He gives her a minute before he prompts her again. “She anything like you?”

That gains him a snort. “Polar opposite.”

“How so?” He likes listening to her. Never been much of a talker himself, Joel is surprised to find he’s missed this. Casual chatting, getting to know new people. No pressure prattle, new input. Something to talk about, a break from thinking. Remembering.

“Well for one,” She turns to him, and saunters over to sit on the armrest of the couch. “She’s a bitch.”

“Hm.” Joel purses his lips. “Thought you said opposite of you.”

A laugh. “Wow! Okay!” She nods, impressed with his audacity, charmed by his cheek. “Malo…”

He smiles at her crude Spanish vocabulary, reminded of his own sibling. “Sorry.” He doesn’t mean it.

She shimmies down from the armrest onto the couch next to him, knees to her chest, leaving half a pillow of space between them. “Who did it remind you of?” It takes him a second to understand what she’s referring to. His eyes glide from hers, questioningly, across the room to the picture on the wall.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I just…” She searches for her words, the right way to put it. “Felt you tense up behind me. Like you were somewhere else for a second.”

She’s right, of course. He was somewhere else. Across the country, 20 years ago. Memories flood his brain as he fights to hold the tears back. Her laugh, still loud in his ears, but weaker by the day. He clears his throat before speaking.

“M’daughter.”

An understanding silence. She doesn’t ask more, just waits patiently for him to go on. If he wants to.

“My daughter,” he says again. “Sarah. The girl in the photo reminded me of her.”

It’s the first time he’s shared from that chapter of his life in years. Only Tess knew the words, and she was in the frozen ground now too. Only Tommy remains, as his family and keeper of Sarah’s memory. And he’s moved on, made a new family. It feels right, Joe thinks, to talk about his daughter with someone now. So that when it’s his turn to go, someone knows.

“It’s funny, about the moths earlier.” She watches him, his brows furrowed just like hers were earlier, and she’s careful not to move, not to startle him, like she’s trying to gain the trust of a scared or wounded animal. She holds her breath until he continues, seemingly lost in thought.

“Sarah loved butterflies. Would draw them everywhere. She’d chase them when she was little, and when she got older, she said they bring good luck.” He laughs an empty laugh and shakes his head. “As if seeing a bug with pretty wings decides your future.”

“She hated moths though. Terrified of ‘em. Just like you.” His head turns slightly at that, dark eyes meeting hers before he continues.

“Whenever one flew into her room at night, she’d scream for me to come get it out… And they’re not even that different from the butterflies she loved. When you think about it. Just… grayer.”

All the more reason to love them, he thinks, but doesn’t say.

Joel wakes with her memory over him. He had yet again pulled her from the fire but been unable to save her. His breath is hitching with each inhale, ears ringing loudly, and it takes him a second to realize she’s there.

“Joel?” she whispers softly. “I didn’t know if I should wake you, you were yelling, and I–”

She’s rambling, voice unsure, but the hand clutching his upper arm is assuring, grounding him, bringing him back. With her support he sits up slowly, groaning. It feels as if he's been body slammed, every bone and muscle aching, his forehead damp with sweat.

“S’okay,” he guarantees her, voice coming back to him slowly but surely. “Happens all the time.”

Her hand moves from his bicep to where his neck meets his shoulder, massaging him lightly, and he tenses up again under her touch. Sensing he’s on edge, she lets go of him, making his eyes snap up to find hers at the loss of her touch.

“Joel?” she whispers. He blinks at her slowly. “Will you let me take care of you?”

The breath he releases makes him slump over, burying his head in his hands.

“I don’t need taking care of,” he responds, but he believes it as little as she does.

So her arm finds its way back around his shoulders, palming big circles over his flannel. With the other hand on his knee, she continues the motion until his breathing slows to a comfortable pace. His body falls forward, elbows on his knees, and she lets her own body fall on top of his, covering his back like a heavy blanket.

She gives a gentle squeeze to his arm, and as if on cue, he sits up slowly, giving her time to lift off from him. He’s not sure what comes over him when he leans in and presses the softest of kisses to the side of her mouth. She gives a soft gasp at the surprise, and he only pulls back halfway so he doesn’t have to look her in the eyes.

“Joel,” she whispers again, begging him to look at her. And then he does. And their heads crash together in a kiss that’s more teeth than lips. No matter how much she thinks he deserves softness, no matter how much he wants it, it’s not in their nature. Not in this world. Softness, kindness, empathy is a rarity. It’s so hard to be tender in a world that’s so brutal.

So they give each other what they can, what they know. Teeth, bones, and the dull aching hunger of desperation. It’s no more pleasurable than sucking on a lollipop knowing a razor blade is waiting in the middle, and yet they devour each other.

Joel sits back on the couch and pulls her into his lap. His hands firm on her hips, grinding her into his growing hardness. Their tongues fight for dominance, taking turns in each other’s mouths. A groan escapes him as she pulls hard at his curls, which are damp with perspiration. His fingernails paint red lines up and down her back underneath her shirt.

After grinding against and moaning into each other for less time than either would have liked, Joel flips her in his lap, arms around her stomach, holding her flush against his chest. They both reach for the front of her jeans at the same time, and while she pulls them down, he tugs on his own, pulling his cock free.

Neither of them really ready, they still crave the contact too much to wait. Holding her breath, she leans her head back on his shoulder, and he pushes two fingers into her mouth, wetting them before reaching down to palm himself. He wiggles the head of his not fully hard cock between her barely aroused folds, and they sigh in unison as he pushes in. She doesn’t mind the sting, and neither does he. Pleasure isn’t enough to keep the pain of existence away. You can only fight fire with fire, so it has to hurt.

The little moans and gasps slipping from her where she sits on top of him send waves of want from his ears to between his legs, and he grows harder inside of her. Her fingers claw into the skin on the sides of his hips as she holds herself in place, making him hiss as he pushes in and out of her, not quite sure whether from the burn or the bliss.

Joel pushes her legs closer together with his own. She moans at the feeling of him filling her up, and she tries to turn her head to put her mouth on his, but he speeds up his thrusts, and she’s forced to hold onto his thighs for leverage. The pads of her fingers dig into his flesh, pinching him, leaving bruises to ignore in the morning. He does the same to her hips and holds her in place.

He plunges his cock clumsily into her a few more times before he reaches his climax. His arms wrap tightly around her, one across her abdomen and the other over her chest, squeezing her breast with his fingers so hard she chokes out an “ouch”, for the first time, just as his release shoots into her.

She can feel him pulse all the way in her core, almost in time with his heaving breath, chest rising and falling against her back. The only sound comes from outside, a distant howl, which she attributes to the wind, but which makes Joel freeze beneath her. Without warning he stands up, arms still supporting her, but he quickly lets go to tuck himself away, pick his gun up from the table, and he moves slowly towards the door which stands balanced against the doorway. Before he does anything else, he turns to her, brow furrowed, finger to his lips.

With his gun pointed forwards, he peeks out the window she cleared earlier in the day.

Nothing.

He shuffles silently and efficiently across the floorboards and pushes the door open. For a second he just stands there, gun in hand, staring out into the dark, only his shoulders moving up and down with his quick but careful breaths. Almost a minute goes by where she doesn’t dare move either, before he puts the door back in place, and turns to her.

Nothing. They’re alone.

a/n: well.......

#joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #jesus christ so many joel tags lmao #that's what the people want isnt it #my writing

151 notes · View notes