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crljhnn · 2 years ago

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The older Jefferson

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader

Summary: After Rowley announces that his older (half-)sister, who lives quite far away and has never met the Heffleys, is going to visit him over the break Susan invites his family over for dinner. Her not being what Rodrick expects, he starts crushing, which results in him trying to impress her - failing horribly.

No physical description; No use of y/n

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi, just a quick warning that English isn’t my first language and that this is also the first time I’ve ever written a longer text in English that isn’t a school assignment. I also don’t fully understand Tumblr yet, which makes me honestly a bit anxious to post.

[This and a gender-neutral version are also posted on AO3]

“Why haven't you ever mentioned that you have an older Sister?” Rowley and Greg were sitting on the Heffleys living room floor - Rodrick occupying the whole space on the couch - playing a video game. Well, Greg was. It was a single-player. He promised they would take turns, but by now Rowley had been over for about two and a half hours and hadn’t even had the chance to touch the controller yet. He gave up on asking and settled on just watching about 45 minutes in.

“I talked about her before. Multiple times actually.” That is true. Rowley looks up to his sister a lot “Also, she is technically my Half-Sister. She’s been living with her Dad for longer than I remember. Normally we are the ones flying over to visit during summer break, but she hasn’t visited since she was a little Kid, and after her school schedule finally allowed it, we thought it would be a good idea if she, for a change, came here instead.”

“It sounds like you two get along great!” Mrs. Heffley walked in, holding a laundry basket under one arm while carrying Manny with the other.

“We do! I can’t wait to show her my room and have her around for the entire break! I have so much planned out already, it's gonna be so much fun! Best summer ever!”

“That sounds lovely Rowley, I wish Greg was so excited to hang out with Rodrick, but they just won't get along.” Susan sighed, throwing a pitiful glance at her two oldest, who simultaneously let out a laugh hearing this.”

“Yeah, never gonna happen.” Greg says, “I would rather spend the whole summer in school than voluntarily hang out with this idiot.”

“My Sister is actually around the same age as Rodrick.” Rowley buts in. Greg doesn’t understand how this is relevant, but it probably adds to his mother's yearning for her two oldest sons to get along. Rodrick lets out a laugh hearing that.

“I can’t wait to meet them. Just imagine an older, female version of Rowley. That’s actually fucking hilarious!”.

“Watch your language! Also, I'm sure she is wonderful.” Gregs Mom loosens her lecturing stance, turns around, and smiles at Rowley “I would love to have you and your family over for dinner sometime. It has been a while since I’ve seen your parents and I would love to meet your sister.”

“That sounds great Mrs. Heffley. I will ask my parents as soon as I get home!”

That brings us to about a week later, when the Jefferson family, including their oldest daughter, is standing in front of the Heffleys House, ringing their doorbell.

Rowley has been telling you all about his best friend Greg for years, which made you somewhat excited about finally meeting him. However, you can’t say that the picture your brother painted is entirely positive, finding him rather irritating in many of the stories you were told over time. You aren't too mad though, assuming it is normal for young, teenage boys to act like jerks every once in a while. Not everyone can be such a sweetheart as Rowley. Overall you're glad your brother managed to maintain such a long-lasting friendship.

And then there was Rodrick. You've heard rather interesting stories about him as well. In the beginning, you found those quite amusing, that was until you realized that Rowley was genuinely terrified of him. Not the best first impression someone could make on you. Influenced by seeing your younger sibling grow up to be such a sweet and genuine person you tend to be a bit protective from time to time.

You hear some hushed voices from inside, and you can identify one of them as female, reminding someone to behave. Then the door opens and a woman, who you assume to be Mrs. Heffley, kindly smiles at you. Your suspicion is confirmed a second later when she introduces herself and shoos you into the house, before continuing to greet the rest of your family.

Crossing the threshold you can now see a man standing slightly behind Greg's mother. He introduces himself as Frank, making quite a kind impression on you. Then he leads you into the living room to meet his sons.

The two older ones hardly even notice you at first, too occupied with arguing and rowing with each other.

“Boys!”, their father speaks up, successfully catching their attention. Rather comically their gazes fall from their father to you, their eyes widening and their mouths dropping open. You were not what they expected. While Greg looks just shocked, you would describe Rodricks state as mesmerized.

He recovers fast, pushes Greg off of him, stands up, and puts on what he hopes is a charming smile. Extending his hand he starts to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m-”

At least he tries to.

“Rodrick. I know. My brother has told me one or two rather interesting stories about you”, your smile is sharp. He gulps, his confident smile turning sheepish, cursing Rowley in his head. You are not what he expected and you are definitely not anywhere close to being a female carbon copy of your, in his eyes, embarrassing younger brother.

He normally wouldn’t consider himself the kind of person who has a type, but from now on, if someone asked, he would probably revert to describing you. You were just ethereal, everything about you was attractive to him. The way you walked, talked, and carried yourself, but also your clothing and hairstyle. Your pretty face just rounds up your whole appearance, making you all the more alluring.

He had to get on your good side. While a family dinner, especially with Greg present, may not be the best opportunity, he could ask Rowley to put in a few good words for him. That kid was easily influenced (or intimidated). Still, making the best possible impression over dinner wouldn’t cause any harm either.

You turn to the other boy who has been silently watching the exchange. Now that your attention is on him he starts feeling nervous as well. Your expression, however, turns a bit more friendly.

“And you must be Greg.” he nods. You introduce yourself and lastly say hello to Manny who is sitting on the floor playing with some figurines. By now the others have entered the room, causing Susan to start leading you all to the dining table.

You’re seated between Rowley and Greg, across from Rodrick, which results in quite frequent eye contact. On one side you really want to intimidate him a bit. This could maybe make your brother's life a bit easier, at least for the time being. On the other side, you do want to make some conversation, maybe throw in a bit of (family dinner appropriate) flirting or at least find out if he’s single.

It’s really hard to hold a grudge against someone who is entirely your type.

While you’re conflicted, Rodrick, on the other hand, is sweating. Nervously fidgeting in his seat. You didn’t seem as irritated with him anymore, if the eye contact was anything to go by. Was this his chance to redeem his shitty first impression? He cursed his brain for failing to come up with something cool to say.

Since when is it so hard to talk to girls? Is it getting hotter in here? What impresses girls? What does he normally brag about? His band! That’s it. Now he just has to bring it up somehow. Maybe he can bribe Greg to ask him about it. No, that’s too risky, he can’t count on Greg to not fuck this up. He is just going to casually bring it up ‘I’m in a band by the way, pretty sick huh?’ ‘Do you like music? Cause I’m in a band’ No that’s stupid everyone likes music… ‘Which kind of music do you listen to?’ That’s good, he should bring up the topic of music first, that’s a normal conversation topic. After that step two is to bring up the band. That’s easy, he got this.

Now he just needs to wait till your attention is on him again and then he can smoothly lead the conversation in the desired direction. He has to calm down, he can do it.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m in a band!” He speaks way louder than intended, his voice is squeaky, and in the middle of the sentence he has the most embarrassing voice crack imaginable.

Silence.

The sole attention is now on him. All he hears is Greg's snickering which causes him to kick him under the table.

“Ow!” That was not Greg's leg. He looks up to see you looking at him with a questioning expression.

That’s it. He fucked up. His chances were already low, but he still managed to shrink them even more, making them most likely completely vanish. Great. His ears were ringing, all he can hear is Greg's quiet laughter in the background.

“I'm sorry I didn’t mean to kick you, I-” he starts his apology but loses track of what he is trying to say when he sees your expression change. You're clearly trying to suppress a smile, but it's not working at all.

“You’re adorable.” Rowley chokes on his food, and Greg's laughter abruptly stops

“Rodrick? Adorable?” That’s it. Greg gives up on ever trying to understand girls. How can his stupid older brother embarrass himself like that, then kick the poor girl under the table and still be perceived as adorable by her, especially since she is so much out of his league?

Rodrick however, was still not functioning properly.

“So that band, is its name by any chance Löded Diaper?”

“Yeah.” He is proud of himself for speaking at an appropriate volume without stuttering. “How do yo-”

“I saw your creepy white Van in front of the house. What’s up with that, kidnapping little kids as a side hustle?” You are still smiling, and with your stupid joke you somehow manage to relax the atmosphere a bit, the adults going back to their conversation.

Rodrick too is now smiling, looking at you with an expression you could only describe as lovestruck, even though you just insulted him.

He is contemplating making a joke about how the space in the back could be quite useful for more than just trapping kids but decides against it, fearing to make it awkward again. Getting nervous about taking too much time to come up with an answer he instead lands on “No only kidnapping pretty girls like you.”. As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it, realizing it's in fact not a funny and flirty thing to say, but honestly rather creepy.

At the end of the evening, Rodrick has messed up flirting with you multiple times, however, it’s his luck that you find his desperate attempts to look cool to impress you weirdly endearing. Not that he realizes that. Calling Rodrick confused, questioning why you were still talking to him, would be an understatement.

He certainly doesn’t know how he can have messed up so many times and still end up finding a little note with your number on it in his pullover hood after you left.

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #fem!reader #diary of a wimpy kid #fluff #first meeting #oneshot #x reader #reader insert #fanfic

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thevioletcaptain · 7 months ago

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Almost a decade ago, in November of 2014, I became so exhausted by seeing people throw around the absurd claim that Dean/Cas fans made up only 1% of SPN fandom that I decided to prove how wrong it was. The most readily available data which didn't rely on conducting a survey or poll -- and was therefore a more accurate representation of actual fandom activity rather than just whoever happened to respond to a survey -- came from fic numbers on Ao3.

I made a post about it at the time (the pertinent figures are included below, or you can see the original post here) and then completely forgot about the entire thing. Until now.

Why? Well, largely thanks to a sudden resurgence of the same old nonsense this week, mostly cropping up in the comment sections of a couple of polls that crossed my dash. The temptation to check if there had been any significant changes to the fandom's activity since I last looked ten years ago was too strong to ignore.

Friends. Things have proven to be shockingly consistent.

With the same caveat from last time -- that this is only showing trends in the subset of fandom who actively uses Ao3, and therefore obviously doesn't take into account the "general audience" subset of fandom who don't participate beyond watching the show and occasionally liking a social media post -- here are the numbers:

Old count | November 9th, 2014 | 4 episodes into S10

Total SPN fics posted - 86,352 Fics listed as gen - 22,718 (26.3%) Fics with Dean/Cas - 33,762 (39.0%) Fics with Sam/Dean - 12,286 (14.2%) Fics with Sam/Cas - 1,634 (1.8%) Fics with Sam/Dean/Cas - 787 (0.9%)

The remaining 18.6% of SPN fics were non-gen fics featuring other character pairings, including reader inserts and original characters.

New count | May 28th, 2024 | 3.5 years after finale

Total SPN fics posted - 290,707 Fics listed as gen - 61,343 (21.1%) Fics with Dean/Cas - 116,925 (40.2%) Fics with Sam/Dean - 34,673 (11.9%) Fics with Sam/Cas - 5,548 (1.9%) Fics with Sam/Dean/Cas - 1,957 (0.6%)

The remaining 24.3% of SPN fics are non-gen fics featuring other character pairings, including reader inserts and original characters.

Notes on data:

All data was collected while logged in on Ao3 to ensure no incorrect counts were caused by hidden works.

There is some overlap within these numbers due to fics which are tagged with multiple pairings. This might be possible to account for if someone felt like doing more intensive data collection, but I've already spent about an hour and a half on this and that's already a lot more time than I'd like to be doing voluntary math. I enjoy statistics as a point of interest, but goddamn do I hate actually crunching the numbers.

It bears mentioning that Sam/Gabriel (5.1%), Sam/Jess (2.2%), & Dean/Reader (2.5%) all have higher counts than Sam/Cas (1.9%) & Sam/Dean/Cas (0.6%), however I didn't make note of those pairings in 2014, so I'm unsure if there has been any change.

I shouldn't have to say this, but literally all of us are just smashing our fave characters together like dolls, so as interesting as these numbers are this post is not intended to suggest that any ship is "better" than any other ship. This post is intended to do nothing more than show the available data which disproves a baseless claim about the size of Dean/Cas fandom within the larger SPN fandom.

TLDR; the percentage of active Supernatural fans on Ao3 who are interested in Dean/Cas as a pairing is significantly higher than 1%, and that has been a consistent pattern within the fandom for the past ten years.

#cass says things #fandom: supernatural #a post in which i get irritated enough by disinformation that i voluntarily do math #i wasn't planning on posting this anywhere tbh #but it was interesting to me and i figure someone else out there might also find it interesting #plus it gave me an excuse to make a couple of pie charts #also if you're about to start wank about this in my notes please consider... not doing that

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aspergerasparagus · 2 months ago

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Oh no I did again, more toxic yaoi but this time there's a lot more of it cos I finally finished it after like a week. Woops.

Anyway Frankie discovers a new way to make money and the contestant is suffering once again. Enjoy.

Also on Ao3

Preparations for the new season had been progressing well, although it would still take them longer for this season given that certain cast members had been disposed of and their replacements were taking some time to be completed. In the meantime to keep the fans engaged and excited for the show's return Frankie had had a rather genius idea, if he said so himself. Well not entirely, Lucky had been the one to inadvertently mention it while making himself dinner. The human had mentioned that with all the cameras everywhere he was starting to feel like he was in one of those content houses he had seen online. This had of course led to Frankie badgering Lucky for the next few hours, demanding all the details especially after he accidentally mentioned the revenue such things were generating. Of course his contestant had adamantly refused to let Frankie stream him 24/7, kicking off about how it was “an invasion into their privacy”, wasn’t he aware the rabbit was already watching his every movement… Regardless Frankie had begrudgingly come to an agreement with Lucky, only being allowed to stream him during certain hours and not without telling him they were live. While this could have cut into the possible profits, it did also reduce the risk of someone slipping up while keeping the fans hungry for more.

So for the next week, Frankie would stick to his word and the new livestream would go on for a couple of hours each day, slowly gaining a following with people clamouring to see more of their adored winner. Of course while Lucky was the star, Frankie was always close by, always there to come up with ideas with what his little cash cow could do that day to earn them some additional funds and to moderate if Lucky started to act up.

It was during their last livestream that Frankie finally noticed that there had been a gradual shift in the chat’s tone. Originally he hadn’t paid it much attention, leaving it mostly to Lucky to keep an eye on and engage when necessary. But as the days went on he slowly started to take more of an interest. It seemed that while there was still a good majority of people here just to see Lucky try and speedrun the parkour courses or make a fool out of himself, there was also a much larger subsection who seemed to be there not just for him. Frankie had found himself being mentioned more and more in the chat logs, which he assumed was due to his charisma and unusual appearance, but when reading through them later that night he realised it wasn’t just himself being mentioned, it was both of them within the same messages. A lot of research and googling terms later (seriously what did toxic yaoi mean?) finally led Frankie to the conclusion that a fairly substantial number of the viewers were only there to see Frankie and Lucky interact with one another. It seemed they were becoming the hot new “couple” and from Frankie had researched, couples streams made even more money.

The following day as always Frankie cheerfully made his way over to Lucky’s room, not even attempting to knock before he barged his way into the room.

“Wakey, wakey my lucky contestant we have a new day of content to film and we are going to need to get started early as I have an extra exciting day for us!” Lucky just groaned and clamped the pillow tighter over his head in a feeble attempt to block out his intruder's chipper voice. Letting out a small snort of amusement, Frankie effortlessly yanked the pillow away before pulling the man out of his bed by his collar, earning him an earful. “Now, now none of that Lucky. I need you up and ready and looking your best for today’s stream. This is going to be the biggest one yet.” The man gave him a curious look from behind the mask (Frankie made him sleep in it, just in case), before finally yanking his shirt free from the rabbit’s grip.

“What’s so special about this one? Wait if you’re starting the next season early I swear I’ll push you into one of those grinder myself!” Frankie just waved his hand to dismiss his golden goose’s concerns as the man bristled next to him.

“Of course I’m not! We’re nowhere near that stage yet, do you know how hard it is to make a replacement for Henry. Urgh the investors are still pissed off about that one… Nethertheless I promise this will be a nice and easy stream. So you can wipe that scowl off your face and get dressed, I’ll even get breakfast ready for you~” Humming to himself Frankie saw himself out while Lucky just stared after him, a small shiver going down their spine.

Frankie had been busying himself in the small kitchen he had set up when Lucky finally joined him. The man seemed on edge as he sat in the chair furthest away from the rabbit, their body stiff and ready to jump to action. His little contestant had good instincts, even if he didn’t know what Frankie had instore for him today he still knew him too well to not suspect something. Frankie purred softly as he grinned widened, that’s why Lucky was his number one contestant, the show's only winner. His special little human. Plating up the food he set it down in front of the man, who looked at it like it was poisoned.

“Don’t look at it like that, it’s just normal food I swear. I’d offer to taste it for you but we both know that wouldn’t do much.” The sickly sweet tone didn’t reassure the Contestant who hesitantly poked at it before slowly placing a forkful into their mouth, correctly assuming Frankie wouldn’t temper with the food, at least not without the cameras rolling. Smirking to himself, Frankie took a seat next to the man, resting his head in his hands as he took in the human, earning him a sour look.

“You’re being far too nice today.”

“Can’t I be nice to my biggest money maker?”

“Absolutely not, it’s you were talking about Mr murder parkour game host. I’m not stupid enough to think you’ve just turned over a new leaf. You’re up to something and I’m going to take a shot that it’s not going to be good for me.” Frankie could only chuckle and sit back as Lucky spat out his accusations. He was right of course, which only tickled the rabbit even more.

“Perhaps, but I assure you you won’t get injured, intentionally anyway.” Dropping the announcer voice, Frankie leaned in closer to Lucky who froze instinctively, his voice lowering as he murmured against their ear. “Who knows, you might even enjoy today’s stream. I know I will~”

Lucky bolted out of their chair like it had been electrified, causing it to clatter to the floor with a metallic clang as he pressed himself against the wall behind them. His body was shaking as he kept his eyes locked with the rabbit’s as they just let out a cruel chuckle, pleased with the reaction.

“Jumpy today aren’t we? Well I won’t torment you any more… for now at least. So eat up and I’ll see you when you’re done, Lucky.” Dusting himself off, Frankie left the man cowering against the wall shooting daggers at him the whole time until he was out of sight. Frankie could feel the pep in his step as he headed back towards his office to make sure everything had been set up as he had asked. He wanted everything to go as planned but given how suspicious and high-strung his contestant was being, he was sure he’d have to resort to his plan B. Frankie couldn’t stop the sneer that spread across his lips at that idea. He had hoped it would end up that way. Not only would it give the viewers something truly special to watch but he couldn’t deny it was getting him worked-up just thinking about it. Stopping at the entrance to his office he gripped the handle and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. There would be time for this later, for now he had to focus before Lucky eventually worked up the nerve to show his face and begin the stream of their lives.

It took Lucky less time than Frankie had expected for them to appear at his door. He really needed to stop underestimating just how impressive his star could be. Taking his usual seat, the man crossed his arms, huffing slightly, like a child annoyed with their parents for some perceived injustice, as he fixed the rabbit’s stare.

“Go on then. It’s not like I’ll be able to get out of this, but if you try anything Frankie I swear-”

“Oh hush, you’ll be fine Lucky. I promise. It might not even be that long of a stream in the end if you behave and follow the script.” Frankie could see their eyes narrow behind their mask, even less trusting of the creature now. Nonetheless he finally heard them sigh as they flopped back into the chair, resigning themselves to the whims of their showrunner.

“Fine. What have you got instore for me today? Speedruns? Parkour demonstration? Oh please don’t let it be another cooking tutorial that went so bad last time-” Chuckling Frankie held his hand up silencing the man.

“No, nothing like that this time. Thankfully. Today’s stream as mentioned will be a little… different. I’ll explain everything to you, and our audience, at the time. So come along, and no I am not telling you anything before you start making demands. Like I said you’ll find out in due time~” The smooth voice he put on did nothing to ease the contestant who, after hesitating for a moment, followed after him, mumbling under their breath about how bad he knew this was going to turn out. Of course Frankie could correct him, but honestly he was getting a kick out of keeping his little Lucky in the dark.

Typically Frankie did most of their broadcasts within the more centralised areas of the facility or within the lobby areas. Good lighting and “safer” areas where Lucky could show off his skills. But for today’s broadcast he had a slightly different idea, given he was sure he knew how the reveal was going to play out and it would save on time when the inevitable happened. Leading his contestant towards Frankie’s Frosted Peak, he noticed out of the corner of their eye how the man began to stiffen as he realised their destination. Typically Lucky avoided this area of the facility, most likely due to the possibility of a certain someone releasing the slime onto him but he did occasionally venture there if Frankie was in tow. Well he wouldn’t have to worry about the fear of drowning this time, something much worse would be chasing him this time if Frankie played his cards right.

Reaching their destination the rabbit beckoned this superstar inside and positioned him just by the check-in line before clicking his fingers. At the sound a couple of drones whirled to life and drifted up into the air, slowly beginning to circle the pair, the cameras attached to them swivelling to fix themselves on their targets. Frankie saw Lucky’s eyes darting between the drones, a look of confusion coming over him. Of course these were a new product the rabbit had been able to purchase with the funds his little money maker had been able to so generously generate for him, and of course he’d gotten the best money could buy (well within reason, the investors were keeping a closer eye on his spending habits recently). Clearing his throat, Frankie took centre stage as the lights on the drones flickered to life and the familiar sound of the other cameras turning on echoed around the room. The chat screens soon began to flood with a wall of text, endless streams of messages that passed by so quickly it was almost impossible to read one before another immediately took its place.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to a new stream! I’m sure you are all excited to see what we have planned for you today and I assure you today will be a very special episode. As you might have seen on our social media pages we have been planning a special little gift for our most devoted followers. You know who you are, I’ve seen the comments~” The teasing tone caused the chat to burst into a frenzy of messages, while Lucky just glared at the back of the rabbit’s head. He knew something was wrong and was about to voice his grievances before Frankie spoke up once more.

“So as a thank you from the both of us, we have a treat instore for you. First off a certain chat filter has been removed temporarily, you know the one I mean, and secondly your favourite host and his lucky little rabbit will be putting on a show for you, all you have to do is choose what show that will be~” Clicking his fingers again, the screen behind them on the Peak blinked on revealing a poll of some sorts. Frankie could only smirk as he saw Lucky squinting from behind his mask to try and read it before he froze, realisation dawning on him. Making his way over to his favourite contestant, a soft purr escaped the rabbit as he leant down to whisper in the man’s ear, his voice almost feverish.

“I told you this was going to be a special show, Lucky. Aren’t you excited? I am positively ecstatic myself. I wonder what option they’ll choose? You know which one I’m hoping for, don't you my little rabbit~” Lucky could only stare ahead, eyes transfixed on the screen as the votes began to pour in by the thousands, the words atop it, flickering menacingly back at him.

Choose our first date activity!

“W-what the hell is this about? What’s going on Frankie?” His voice faltered slightly as he forced the words out of his throat, still unable to process what exactly was happening. Letting out a soft chuckle, the rabbit nuzzled his cheek lightly causing Lucky to jump away from him, eyes wide with confusion before quickly a wave of anger spread over them.

“This is what all those bloody streams were for weren’t they?! Just some fucking excuse to make me play out your twisted little fantasies! How didn’t I see it before!” Frankie could only grin wider as Lucky finally began to put the pieces together. While he’d give the man credit, he was smart enough to be able to read the rabbit pretty well, it seemed he was fairly blind to the actions being carried out around him. Never realising the narrative arc being acted out around him by Frankie until it had to be spelled out for him on a giant screen with thousands pouring in to vote on his fate. Honestly Frankie would be disappointed if this wasn’t so satisfying to watch play out in real time.

Finally composing himself, Lucky rounded on the announcer, grabbing him by the bow tie and dragging him down to eye level. Frankie could feel the man trembling with rage (and embarrassment) as he glowered up at him

“Stop the fucking vote!”

“Oh? You don’t want our fans to help choose the perfect first date for us? Are you getting all shy again my little rabbit~?” The fake sincerity in his voice only made the man’s grip tighten on his tie. He’d never managed to piss off his little contestant like this before. Such pure, unfiltered animosity and resentment radiated off the tiny little human, it was practically suffocating and it was all directed solely at him. Frankie was completely intoxicated and loving every moment of it.

Arousal probably wouldn’t have been the correct word to use to describe how he felt right now, given that he wasn’t technically able to feel something like that given his state of being, but he was sure this was a very close facsimile of it. Perhaps euphoria or delirium could also be used to aid in its description. Regardless, Frankie’s plan was playing out even better than he could have ever imagined and his little Lucky was playing his role perfectly. Now to see just how well the man could keep it up seeing as they were barely even halfway through the first act.

“I said stop the fucking vote!”

“I can’t. These people paid good money to watch us go on a cute date and they’ll get that. Neither of us can afford to make the big men upstairs mad at us now can we?” Hissing like an angry cat, Lucky lurked away from the rabbit, a look of pure resentment in his eyes.

“Bastard…” Frankie could only giggle before he turned his attention to the chat screens, to see what they thought of their little lovers tiff. They were eating it up. The chat had now worked itself into a frenzy as messages spilled in by the second, all clamouring to demand more. Suggestions on how Frankie should deal with his “naughty little bunbun”, people questioning how this was going to play, people chanting to get their choice to the top of the poll and a variety of other messages, all echoing the same fanatic energy as the rest of the chat. Now to give them a real show.

“But perhaps there is another way if you are really so set on not playing with me Lucky…” The man stopped his pacing to stare the rabbit down. It was clear that he wasn’t remotely close to trusting another word that came out of the monstrosities' mouth but if it meant getting out of his current situation he would at least consider listening.

“The people need a show. They have all paid good money to be here, so we need to put on something that they’ve never seen before and that fits in with our clients… tastes. So I propose a little wager, nothing bad I swear. You won’t get hurt and if you win, no date. How does that sound Lucky?” The man just held the rabbit’s gaze and he let that offer process. There was the possibility that Lucky would refuse. Just say fuck it and go on the “date” regardless of what it would turn out to be and that would be that. But Frankie knew his little rabbit too well now, better then maybe he knew himself. He knew what he’d choose, that is why he’d planned this out. Why he’d even brought him to the Peak to begin with. He was playing right into his hand without even realising. This wasn’t for the viewers or the money anymore, this was just for Frankie’s entertainment now.

“... What do you propose?”

“A little game. Very simple; you win, no date.”

“And if I lose, I have to go on the date?”

“Correct. You’ll also need to play along regardless of what is chosen. Give the people what they want.” Lucky fell silent again before finally sighing and resigning himself to his fate.

“What game do you have in mind? I’m guessing us being here isn’t a coincidence.” Frankie felt a shiver run down his spine as he turned to face the cameras once more.

“So observant my golden goose! I suggest we play a simple game of “tag”. You try to get away from me while I chase you. Manage to get to the top before I can catch you and you’ll win. I’ll even give you a head start~” The chat was lapping this up, the messages quickly devolving into mindless key smashing over the idea of them seeing the two objects of obsession playing out a common trope in their fantasies (Frankie was all too aware of the type of things that were being written about them regarding situations similar to this). Meanwhile Lucky just eyed the climb behind him. He’d done it before, he could easily do it again. Frankie was sure there he was thinking that there was a strong possibility he could beat him, hell Frankie (the actual one), couldn’t catch him. What chance could this little rabbit who spent all his time watching tv screens and narrating possibly do?

“Fine, but I get a 30 second head start.”

“10.”

“20. And no slime.” Frankie could only purr as Lucky went to take his place at the starting line, not giving the rabbit a chance to argue.

“You can be so demanding my cheeky little rabbit~” Beckoning the drones, they followed after him and soon took up position, one coming to rest just beside the contestant while the other hovered just over Frankie’s shoulder.

“Now chat, remember to root for who you want to win and let’s see if our only winner can beat the Peak once more!” Dropping the voice he chuckled softly. “May the best player win Lucky but I’ll warn you, don’t go easy on me. I’m not going to let you get away from me with what’s on the line.” Frankie saw them shiver before they snapped their head back around to focus on the course in front of them. Clicking his fingers the chat moved to the large screen on the peak, pushing the voting poll to the side so they could witness how the viewers were chanting for them.

“Okay, so on my mark! Ready, steady, run rabbit run~”

Lucky was off the starting line like a bolt, the drone shooting after him to make sure it didn’t miss a single shot. He was fast, faster then he was during the 57th season. All the training he’d been doing since he’d “agreed” to stay on was certainly starting to show itself off now. He was effortlessly vaulting himself over the obstacles set up in his path and sliding under others. However while Frankie was admiring his contestant he was also keeping a countdown in his head, counting down the seconds until he could go after his prey prize. The moment he hit 20 he coiled his legs up before launching himself up the first ledge of the course completely negating anything before it. Easily flipping himself up he looked up to see Lucky just ahead of him getting ready to deal with the rotating platform, the man risked looking over his shoulder after he heard the rabbit land and Frankie saw their eyes snap wide as he realised what the rabbit was up to.

“Fucking cheating bastard…”

While Lucky was used to the other Frankie simply chasing him down like a mindless beast, he was a lot more cunning, able to more freely utilise the benefits this body of his provided him. And he intended to utilise everything he had to put on a good show. Charging ahead after his fleeing contestant it didn’t take long till he was on their heel, getting close enough he could have grabbed them had they not suddenly swerved to the side, sending him off balance and threatening to topple over. Taking his momentary stumble Lucky quickly launched themselves to the next level, leaving Frankie to try and correct himself before pulling himself up after them. But Frankie didn’t care. This was so much fun! Chasing after his contestant like a scared little rabbit was definitely something he could get used to (he could finally understand the appeal the other Frankie saw in it), and he was thankful it would play out for longer. It also seemed that he wasn’t the only one enjoying this. He knew Lucky would deny it but he’d seen it when they’d dodged him. The spark in his eyes. He was enjoying this too and that only got the rabbit more worked up. The thrill of the chase infecting both of them and ensuring that both would give it their absolute all.

Higher and higher the two climbed, neither letting the other get a chance in. The chat screamed out for them, chanting their names over and over as they continued their game of cat and mouse. It was looking too close to decide who would come out on top as Lucky rounded the final bend and sprinted ahead towards the peak. Frankie was loving every minute but alas all good things had to come to an end and he had no intention of letting his contestant beat him. There was too much at stake after all~ Lining up he saw Lucky sneak a glance towards the peak, just a few meters and he’d be the winner. And that distraction was all Frankie needed. Lowering himself to all fours (undignified he knew) he launched himself forward tackling the man who only had the chance to yelp before they both crashed into a pile just a couple of meters short of the finish line.

Without missing a beat Frankie pinned the man flat on his back, hands gripping his wrists as they struggled under him but it was no use, Frankie had caught his prey and he wasn’t letting him get away now. They both remained silent for a moment except for the contestant's laboured pants filling the air as he tried to catch his breath, eyes locked on each other. The chat must be losing their collective mind right now. Finally Frankie leant down, mere inches from Lucky’s face as the man just held his gaze. His voice was low as he spoke, a small quiver to it as he had yet to come down from the high of the chase.

“I caught you my little rabbit~” Unable to keep his composure at the suggestive tone, Lucky finally looked away earning him a chuckle from the rabbit on top of him. Given the small muted noise they’d made it seemed he’d embarrassed them. Cute.

“Fine, fine you won. Now get off me already! We don’t need to be giving anyone any more ideas…”

“Oh trust me, this is nothing compared to what I’ve seen them write about us~” The man could only flash him a look of confusion and concern at that comment but that was enough about that for now. Nuzzling his cheek Frankie finally lifted himself off the contestant, offering them a hand as they went to climb to their own feet. After debating for a moment he hesitantly took it only to cry out as Frankie threw him up into his arms, and while carrying him bridal style (for the fans), leapt off the peak earning him a number of curses as Lucky grabbed at him.

Once safely back on the ground, and after having to dodge a kick to his face, the rabbit took up his position, making sure the chat was clearly visible.

“And there we have it folks! A race like you’ve never seen before here at Frankie’s Parkour Palace! Wasn’t that exciting? I know I enjoyed myself wholeheartedly throughout the whole thing~” The chat burst into life once more, clamouring to scream their praises, complimenting the contestant on how well they did and a lot of the chat becoming a little more descriptive as they went over how Frankie caught his bunbun and how they had wanted to see how it could have played out. Frankie could only smirk as Lucky went red behind their mask as he continued to read the chat. What till he saw the fanart Lucky had found of the both of them. Clearing his head he reached over and pulled the man to his side, slipping a hand onto his shoulder.

“However seeing as I was the winner it’s time to see what date option, you the chat, has voted on. I can hardly contain myself to see what option you have all voted on, and I’m sure Lucky is just as intrigued to see what you have in store for him! Now to final votes!”

Clicking his fingers once more the screen moved to show the votes, slowly moving up from the fewest to the final viewers choice. Frankie could feel Lucky stiffen under his hand, their hands gripping his costume for comfort as he awaited his fate, hardly able to breath. As the list slowly rose up, Frankie could only pull Lucky closer to himself until it finally reached the top voted option:

Winner: Dancing

“Ooooh so chat wants us to have our first dance together as our date~ It’s a little early for that but I’m sure it’ll be good practice for the future.” He had expected an elbow in the side for the comment but Lucky continued to stare straight ahead, eyes focused solely on the results.

“Anyway, we’ll be back in an hour and have everything set up for you then. So as a little bonus for being such a good audience, I would like you to choose the song. Remember to choose something appropriate that fits my little rabbit the best. I’ll let you in on a little secret to help you choose, my little superstar actually has some moves. Let's see if we can get him a tune he can show off to~” Now that got Lucky to rip his gaze away to look up at the host, alarm in his eyes as he processed what they had said.

“W-wait how… how do you know-” Holding a gloved finger up to his lips, Frankie hushed them softly.

“So we’ll see you in a little bit and get voting!” With that the feed cut off as the drones returned to Frankie, the chat feed still displaying as they debated about what song they should choose. Meanwhile, Lucky just stood there before violently ripping himself away from the creature, his eyes filled with fear as he stumbled back.

“How? How did you know that?!” Feigning ignorance Frankie just cocked his head to the side, like a confused pet who couldn’t understand their owner's request.

“Know what, Lucky~?”

“You know damn well what I mean you bastard! Did… did you rig the vote?!” Frankie couldn’t keep the innocent act up as he suddenly cackled and gave his contestant a cruel grin.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t know everything about you did you? A show like this means we have to run background checks on all contestants. Very thorough background checks. I know everything about you my Lucky. Where you lived, where you worked, where you went to school… who your parents were.” The last part made the man bristle up like an angry cat but the fear in his eyes reassured Frankie that he wasn’t going to lash out like last time.

“Your father was a dance teacher and in turn, when you were younger, he taught you too. Of course you never pursued a career in it, glad you didn’t by the way or you’d never have ended up here, but I am aware you did win some awards in your younger years. I just wanted to put those skills of yours to use is all~” As he talked, his voice dropping once more, he made his way over to Lucky who could only cower away like a little rabbit, fear gripping him like it never had before. He looked so small and fragile now as Fankie casted him in his shadow. So unlike him.

“Don’t act scared Lucky, I won’t do anything. All we’re going to do is dance and that’ll be it. Just a normal first date~” Frankie was sure that would have been the end of it, until something ignited in his little rabbit's eyes and without a chance to react they reared their head back and slammed it into his causing him to yelp this time as their forehead connected with his nose. Stumbling back in shock he clutched his face as Lucky held his ground, glowering at him, a small trickle of blood leaking from the crack in their mask. The rabbit remained silent for a moment, processing what had just happened before his smile grew wide.

“Now that’s more like it Lucky~! That’s what I want! I hope you bring that passion to our dance! I can barely stand the wait now~!” This was the contestant he wanted. The one who had braved the show, who beat all the odds and even him in the end. The one who even when terrified held his own and refused to back down. His golden goose, his little rabbit, his “Lucky” contestant. His everything.

After being coerced into finally letting the rabbit treat his wounds (who knew headbutting something mostly comprised of metal would do more damage to them than the rabbit), Lucky now sat sulking on the side of his bed, nursing his bandaged head. He was still pissed off at Frankie given that whenever he looked at him the man just shot him a sour look but it didn’t seem there’d be any more violent outburst for the day. Hopefully.

“So seeing as this is an important stream, I acquired you some new clothing as while stylish and practical that suit isn’t going to cut it. You have to dress up for a date after all~” The man just rolled his eyes and pouted but Frankie was sure he was somewhat eager to see the new threads he got, seeing as the suits are all he’d worn for the last few months. Something different would make a nice change and probably keep him well behaved. Picking up the package he’s brought back with him as he’d gotten the first aid kit he handed it over, the other man taking it cautiously. After inspecting it he quickly began to tear through the wrapping before pulling out the suit jacket, shirt and pants that had been inside.

“Oh wow. I’ve never had something this nice before.”

“I suppose not but you deserve something nice for our date. Plus it was in the budget so I coughed up a bit more. I want you looking your best for your fans.” Rolling his eyes he gently laid the suit down on his bed, treating it with the utmost care as the rabbit just smirked watching him. It might be the first time the man’s worn a suit before in his life bar for interviews, but it did tickle him to see that even though it was a gift from Frankie, he still treated it so gently.

“Well gone on, try it on. It should fit given as I had it made for you using your measurements. I need to make sure you’ll look presentable.”

“R-right, right- wait, how do you know my measurements? Oh you know what, never mind. I don’t think I want to know right now.” Groaning he went for the zipper only to hesitate as Frankie continued to watch him showing no signs of leaving.

“Frankie, I’m not changing with you watching.”

“You’ve done it before during the first time you were here. It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

“Frankie get the fuck out before I headbutt you a second time.” The rabbit could only giggle, heading out to give his little rabbit some privacy. Such a shy little thing.

After a few minutes, Lucky finally stepped out. He seemed almost shy as he opened the door, presenting himself to Frankie, like a child trying something on for their parents to gauge their approval. Frankie’s eyes lit up immediately as he came over to inspect his contestant, circling around them as he checked it all fitted correctly.

“Well look at you, someone does clean up well don’t they~”

“Shut up. I feel stupid.”

“Well you don’t look it. Someone might even say you look handsome or is the word hot nowadays~” Grimacing beneath the mask, Lucky shooed the rabbit away as he chuckled to himself.

“Please never say that again. Honestly though, do I look okay? I don’t want to embarrass myself more than I already have today.” Taking a step back, Frankie ran his eyes over the man as he twirled around on the spot for him. He could certainly turn a few heads in this get up, good thing Frankie was the only one around to admire him.

“You look good Lucky, I’m being honest. You know I wouldn’t lie to you without reason.” Humming the man patted the front of the suit before nodding.

“Okay, if you say so. Shall we get this over with then.”

“Lucky, remember what you promised. You need to play along and act like you’re having a good time. So wipe that sour look off your face. I’ve also thought of the perfect place that can act as our dance hall for the evening!” Offering up his arm to his date, Frankie beckoned the man and with a groan he obediently took it, allowing himself to be led into the unknown.

Frankie hadn’t been lying when he had said he’d thought of the perfect place to turn into a dance floor. Considering most of the facility was covered in parkour equipment (or bodies) there had been only one clear choice, Hexa-Havoc. Dropping down into the arena, Frankie let Lucky down as the man inspected the area, a nervous look in their eyes. He hadn’t been here since he’d won and from the way he’d started to pick at his jacket, it didn’t seem he was particularly pleased.

“This was your idea? How are we supposed to do this on a floor that’s constantly falling?” Frankie just shook his head as he went over to a hidden control panel in the wall, starting to fiddle with the settings.

“The floor only starts to fall when the game’s started up, I’m not going to do that so I assure you it’s stable. Don’t trust me, run around and check it for yourself.” Finally getting the right settings down, he slammed it closed and made his way over to his date for tonight, the man turning to meet his gaze.

“You ready?”

“It’s not like I have a choice. But to warn you in advance it’s been awhile since I’ve you know…” Frankie dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, besides I’ll be leading so you’ll have nothing to worry about. Just follow my instructions like you always do and we’ll have our viewers melting in our hands in no time.” Speaking of viewers, it was time. Clicking his fingers like last time, the drones suddenly descended from the darkness above before the screens lit up, chat suddenly coming to life as the feed started up once more. Seemed they’d been anxiously waiting for the return of their favourite couple and seeing as one had undergone a drastic costume change since they were more than eager now. The screens filled with excited messages at the sight of their winner and how good he’d look on the rabbit’s arm.

“Welcome back dear viewers! I see you’ve been craving our return but as promised here we are, back to entertain you once more with a very special bonus so lovingly picked by you, our viewers. Now without further ado, let us get this date underway and be kind to your sweet contestant, he’s a little shy. It’s our first date after all and I want it to be memorable~” Frankie couldn’t help but look over at his golden goose as he spoke, the man tutting and averting his eyes, but the embarrassment was clear. “Now let’s get down to business and see what song was chosen, it’ll be a surprise to all of us so let’s hope it was a good one.” Spinning on his heel, Frankie made his way over to Lucky and with all the charm of a fine gentleman bowed and offered up his hand to his date.

“Now then, may I have this dance my little rabbit~”

The lights in the room suddenly dimmed, the flooring changing from the technicoloured patchwork of colours to a soft blue, coating them and everything in the light. Lucky hesitated , his hand floating between them both before music suddenly started up from the unseen speakers that surrounded them.

Open the curtains

Lights on

Don't miss a moment

Of this experiment

Oh, the book is strange

Like clockwork orange

Keep your eyes buttered till the end.

Snatching his hand, Frankie pulled him close to his chest, Lucky instinctively grabbing at his shoulder with his free hand. Throwing him a dirty look, Frankie could only smirk as he slipped a hand around his contestant’s waist and started to lead their dance. Of course Lucky was slow off the mark, fumbling slightly with his steps, trying to keep up with the rabbit best he could. Pressing him closer Frankie took charge and soon they were matching one another perfectly, as if they’d choreographed this from the beginning.

Cut it off, cut down your loss

All that stubborn loyalty is gonna get you killed

In a world built on convenient theories

For the puppets on TV

There is comfort in the strings

If you're gonna control me

At least make it interesting theatrically

Frankie led his contestant around the floor, spinning and swinging him around with ease. Locking eyes with one another, the rabbit was surprised to see Lucky smirk before he spun himself into his arms, his back to his chest. Taken aback the rabbit could only freeze up, now this was a side he hadn’t seen before. But it was only a momentary lapse, Frankie letting out a purr as he slipped his hands back around his little rabbit.

“Keep up, Frankie.”

“Oh, I will don’t worry~”

Down, down, and down I go

I tell myself I'm a tough girl

Down, down, and down I go

I could never, ever, ever touch the soil

Slipping away, the drones turned their attention to Lucky as he took centre stage. He was getting into it now as he showed off just what he was capable of. He was so controlled in his movements, moving between each action almost without having to think. He made it look effortless. Frankie could only watch as his little rabbit became the highlight of the show, just like he had last time. His superstar was at it again.

My heart goes right

My head goes left

And end up on your bed

Huh

Coming up behind him, Frankie snaked an arm around him, wriggling an eyebrow at the last line which earned him an eye roll. Worth a try. Taking his hand once more, they continued their dance across the floor, so in sync it must be a sight to behold for the viewers. Not that Frankie was really paying attention to them. He’d see the takings at the end, right now his Lucky had his undivided attention.

Sure I'll be your marionette

Here, tug on my thread

Spread me open for dolly pink, snow white artificial beauty

Maybe we're all cold machines

Stuffed in the human skin

With human sins

Sewed up by the gods of city

“Hold on.” Frankie’s voice surprised Lucky who only just managed to wrap his arms around the rabbit in time as he extended to his actual height, easily lifting the man off the floor as he swung him around. He could hear the other man cursing him out as he refused to put him back down, but he didn’t seem to be too mad, given how he heard him a small snort of laughter slip out.

Cut it out, you've already lost

All that precious bravery is gonna get you hurt

In a world that feeds on the minority

May that self-centred belief lead you to peace

If you're gonna replace me

At least have the audacity to kill me thoroughly

As Frankie lowered him down, Lucky hesitated as he caught the last couple of lines. Locking eyes, Frankie could see the words hitting a little too close to home, his money maker starting to remember where he was, what he’d gotten himself into. Quickly sweeping in he took his hand, continuing their dance. This little game of theirs was his and his alone to control and it would only end when he decided it was time.

You gave me strength

Hopeful curiosity

Maybe there are still happy answers left for my discovery

What's the colour of the electric sheep you see?

And if you love me

Can you love your everything too, for me?

Coming to the end of their dance, Frankie pulled the contestant closer to himself as their movements began to slow before he finally dipped them as the music faded out. Leaving them alone with the sound of Lucky’s heavy breathing and his heart hammering away in his chest. He could feel their hands trembling slightly as they held onto his neck for support, realisation about their situation truly coming into clarity for the first time as the monster and man faced one another. Frankie let out a soft growl as he gently lifted Lucky’s chin, forcing them to crane their neck up so they were practically touching now.

“What do you think we are now, Lucky? A prisoner and their warden? Business partners? Lovers?”

“There is nothing here but vitriolic flirting.” Frankie could only chuckle at his answer, he wouldn’t expect less from the first winner of the show. Truly there was no one else like them. Leaning up he placed a “kiss” against their masked forehead.

“I’d be hurt, but you seem to know me too well my little rabbit~ I wouldn’t want it any other way. So let’s continue this dance until the end, I promise you I’ll be the one to end it. No one else deserves that honour except me.”

“...I know, I wouldn’t expect anything less.” His voice was so small as he spoke, almost sad knowing how he would meet his end. Some would have found comfort in the fact that it wouldn’t be the other Frankie but he could be just as bad if he wanted to be.

Releasing his chin Frankie trailed his hand down Lucky’s neck before suddenly tightening his grip around it, not enough to do anything, just enough to make his point. He felt the man swallow nervously beneath his hand but he didn’t break eye contact, holding his own once more.

“You know, when the time comes around I promise I’ll make you a spectacle. Your end will be deserving of all that you’ve done for me and the show. It’ll be unlike anything we’ve ever seen before!” Frankie was getting worked up just thinking how’d he do it. It had to be spectacular and go down in history, but he still had plenty of time to figure out the details. He wasn’t in a rush to get rid of his cash cow just yet.

“How considerate of you, but remember Frankie, you’ll still have to catch me first. And I’m not going to let it happen again.” Frankie barely had time to register the sucker punch that was swung at him, only just managing to block it, releasing Lucky’s neck in the process. The rabbit couldn’t say he was surprised by the action but still a little shocked at how close his little rabbit had gotten to landing another hit on him so soon. Such tenacity.

“Oh, keep this up and I might have to punish you~” Lucky just shook his head before releasing his grip on the rabbit’s neck, letting himself go limp and slipping out of their grip.

“I assure you being here with you is enough punishment but if you do, don’t get it from those guys. You should see what they’ve been saying...” He motioned to the screen behind him, Frankie finally acknowledging his viewers as he glanced at the chat. Oh, oh yeah they were losing their minds once more and with the filter removed they were being a little bit more descriptive and graphic then previously. It seemed the dance and their little interaction afterwards had gotten them into a frenzy. Demanding more and for Frankie to take things further, but they’d have to wait till next time. Frankie wasn’t going to get anything more out of Lucky tonight, except maybe a kick in the teeth.

“Well chat I hope you got everything you wanted and more with this stream! Also let’s give our little superstar a round of applause, even I was surprised just at how well he could move but we’ve all seen him on the courses so we shouldn’t expect anything less. Now until next time, I hope to see you soon!” With that feed cut off, leaving Frankie and Lucky alone. His little golden goose had his back to him, lost in thought no doubt about. He’d had a busy day so Frankie would cut him some slack. Slinking over he gently nuzzled their cheek, snapping them back to reality as they shooed him away.

“How about some dinner? My treat. I even have some wine so I can “wine and dine” you properly.” Lucky still seemed a little distracted but quickly shook his head clearing his thoughts. Not wanting to dwell too much on the rabbit’s promise any longer.

“Yeah alright, I could definitely go for a drink right about now. So what do you have in mind for food?”

“Well we could always try making something togethe-”

“Hell no you stupid rabbit! I’ve already had a stressful enough day as it is, don’t joke about something like that! You just cook me something seeing as this is all your doing. I deserve to take it easy for once.” Frankie could only laugh as Lucky put his foot down, the man pouting at him from behind his mask.

“So demanding, alright I’ll see what I can do. And I’m going to count this as our second date you realise. So will I be coming home with you after this?”

“You’re lucky I don’t turn hexa-havoc back on and see how long you can survive it.” Snortin Frankie held out an arm letting Lucky (begrudgingly) to climb on as the rabbit began to scale his way back out of the stage. Overall Frankie had to say that everything had gone better than he could have expected, he couldn’t wait to see the taking from today~ It had to have been their best show to date! Looking down at Lucky, clutched in his arm, he couldn’t help but smirk. He couldn’t wait to see what his “Lucky” contestant would do when the time came for their final show. Frankie knew he wouldn’t disappoint him regardless of what the outcome would be. That’s just who he was. His contestant, his everything.

#my writing #finding frankie #real frankie #rabbitroyale

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toxic3mmy · 1 month ago

Text

prompt: you wake up in a girl’s body and fuck your best friend

okay soooo, i got this idea from an ao3 one shot i read the other day and well, this came outta it

it may not be everyones cup of tea but i always loved gay fics where one guy magically turned into a woman??

IDK

ALSO IM REALLY DEPRESSED SO I LIED ABT GETTING TO UR REQUESTS DONT HATE MEEEE MY BOOBIES <3

warnings: SMUTTTT, mentions of witchcraft and body switching

you and quackity were best friends from a very young age. you and him were inseparable, as if you were one person.

the two of you went through school together. everything changed when his youtube career took off and he changed his focus to that which of course you didn’t mind. you thought it was so awesome the way he was passionate about this.

the two of you were so close that living together through college eventually turned into living together as adults. now, you were working at a law firm as an intern while alex pursued his online career.

truthfully, you were in love with your best friend. you had been from a very young age, it was only natural for you to fall so hard for him.

on a drunken night, you decided to come clean. you told him how much he meant to you. you confessed that you were in love with him.

he smiled sadly and hugged you close

“i wish you were a girl”

those were his drunken words and the two of you never spoke about it again

but within your friend group, everyone liked to tease the two of you as if you were gay together. of course you would enjoy every single interaction like this, hell you two were even dared to kiss once!

it was too easy to fall for your best friend

—

you had gone to visit your family in mexico for a few days and finally you were home. you walked into your shared home as quickly and quietly as possible so that you didn’t wake alex up.

your trip was great. you got to catch up with family and spend some quality time together.

while there, you confessed to your favorite and closest cousin about your feelings for alexis. she was very accepting of your sexuality and even encouraged you to go for it.

you filled her in on what happened when you did confess to alex and her eyes lit up with a devious look. she had an idea and although you were a bit skeptical, you agreed.

you knew she was learning the traditions of brujeria in your family and you were really interested in it. but what she wanted to do was crazy. she wanted to try something new and of course you agreed, not expecting anything to come of it because of how impossible it seemed.

so the two of you spent the last day of your trip together so that she could work on it. and well, you went home that same night.

the next day, you woke up like any normal day. you sluggishly walked to the bathroom and relieved yourself. you felt a warmth trickling down your legs and you were speeachless

“aw shit” you murmured to yourself as you knelt down to clean the floor of your piss

you couldn’t believe it worked

you looked at yourself in the mirror and loved what you saw. your face was a bit more round, your hair reached your ass now, and you had a great rack. you were ecstatic, practically gawking over yourself

and then the fear set in when alex knocked on your door saying that breakfast was ready

“uh… im not feeling well! go ahead and eat without me, thanks” you said, trying your hardest to deepen your voice

“are you sure? whats wrong? your voice sounds weird, are you sick?” he asked worriedly

“i think it’s a virus or something, don’t worry”

“i wanted to have a little day with you since you’re back from mexico… i guess we could postpone it until you feel better”

“thanks” you said quickly, hoping he would go already

“are you… going to stay in there all day? i mean, at least let me in so i can take care of you” he sighed, resting his head against the door

“n-no! im fine, really!”

“c’mon y/n, let me in so i can at least make sure you don’t die in there” he laughed

there was absolutely no way to hide this

“okay but… please don’t freak out” you said as you quickly started to look for a t shirt to put on

all you had on were loose boxers but they felt weird. you didn’t have any bras, obviously, and so you had no choice but to wear a tight fitting white wife beater

“i wont” alexis said softly

“close your eyes”

he obliged and you carefully unlocked the door, leading him into the bedroom

“before you open your eyes, i think i need to—“

he opened his eyes and his mouth dropped

“um… what…?”

“please let me explain!”

“okay, who are you… i get it if you wanted an autograph or a picture but what the hell?? why are you in my house right now?”

“what?… alexis! i’m not some crazed fan that broke in! it’s me.. it’s y/n..” you exclaimed

“no you’re not, what the fuck are you talking about! look, i don’t believe in hitting women but if you don’t leave my goddamn house in three seconds, you’re toast buddy!” he yelped and picked up the nearest weapon like thing which just so happened to be a lamp

you blinked at his attempt at being tough and burst out laughing uncontrollably

“lady! i am so serious! what the hell is wrong with you? oh my god… you escaped a mental hospital and you’re using my house as a hideout aren’t you?!”

you couldn’t stop laughing at him, this was just way too hilarious!

“okay i am dialing 911–“

“wait! please… just listen to me okay? i didn’t expect for this to happen… but it’s me. it’s y/n”

“you really are a nut, aren’t you?”

“i can prove it! look… it’s the matching tattoo we got when we were 18” you pulled your t shirt down to show the tattoo littered on your collarbone

he put down the lamp and sat on your bed. he didn’t know what to think. he nervously ran his hand through his hair

“oh god… how did this—?”

“i—i” you stuttered, trying to figure out if you should tell him the truth

“i swear you didn’t have tits the last time i saw you… and your face looks so… different” he softly held your chin in his hand, studying your newly feminine features

“brujeria” you blurted out, cheeks flushed with his touch on your face igniting a fire inside your chest

“w-what?”

“i… my family does brujeria and i tried this new thing and i swear i didn’t expect it to work! ive heard of it working but ive never seen it for myself and well…”

“so… you did this to yourself?”

you nodded, almost feeling shame

“but why?”

“i had a talk with my cousin in mexico and well… you told me you wished that i were a girl…. and i thought maybe things could be easier this way, better, even. i really didn’t think it would happen…”

“so…” alexis cleared his throat, “you’re um, fully a female now?” his face turned red in an instant and you couldn’t help but laugh

“yeah, i mean, i went to use the bathroom and that’s when i noticed…”

“no way…”

“yeah..”

“and so… why are you practically naked?” he laughed nervously, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants

“dude! look at these fucking tits! i don’t own any bras and god they’re already giving me back pain.. i need to get dressed so i can go back and see my cousin or see a doctor! i can’t stay like this—”

he stayed quiet for a while before saying breathlessly,

“i don’t want you to go”

“i… i have to go… i have to fix this” you said quietly as you began to rummage through your drawers to find suitable underwear since you obviously didn’t own any panties. you changed into boxer briefs and shrugged. it would have to do

alex quietly stood from where he was sitting and he stood behind you, looking down at you with a look on his face that you’ve never seen before

“god.. you’re so tall” you whispered as you stopped what you were doing and looked up at him

“you’re so fucking short, it’s really cute” he smiled before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder

“hey! what the hell! put me down!” you squirmed in his arms and that earned a harsh smack to your boxer clad ass

he took you to his bedroom and practically threw you onto his bed. he stared at you with the same look as before, his eyes filled with lust, as he threw his beanie to the ground and took off his t shirt. he threw his shirt somewhere behind him before slowly making his way to you.

you were sat up with your knees to your chest against the wall

“u-uhm.. why um.. why are we here? i told you i have to go!! i have to fix this shit” you rambled nervously, earning a deep chuckle from alexis

“shh, just let me admire you..” he was now next to you on the bed as he carefully tucked your hair behind your ear

“what are we doing alex?” your whisper dissipated into the thick tense air surrounding the two of you

alexis didn’t respond, instead he gently grabbed the hem of your t shirt and pulled it off of your body. your new set of tits were now on display, your nipples perking up instantly as your best friend trailed his fingertips along your chest. you hiss at the sensation of his cold hands and you feel something beginning to build up inside, just beneath your bellybutton

“o-okay…i get it, it get it. this is about that stupid thing we talked about! look, it was funny back then but right now it’s not okay, i need to see my cousin or a fucking doctor!”

“you mean that thing about how if one of us woke up as a chick then we’d fuck?” he laughed, now trailing his fingers underneath your chin

“y-yeah but it was hypothetical! i didn’t think we’d ever actually be in this situation i mean, it’s just not normal!”

“so, do you want me to stop?” he murmured against your neck, leaving tiny butterfly kisses there

“i-i don’t know okay? but it doesn’t help when you’re touching me and you have your lips on me and god damn i forgot how sexy you looked without a shirt on…”

“you think this is easy for me? feel what you do to me, baby girl” he guided your hand to his clothed dick and your eyes went wide with how hard he was

“oh my god… stop it! fucking shit dude! you can’t just have me touching your dick! a-and now im fucking leaking or something, i don’t know! it’s all warm and wet down here! i don’t know what to do!” you complained, almost whining, not realizing that what you needed was him inside of you

“yeah? i bet your tight little cunt is soaked, isn’t it?” he asked, almost hovering above you

you couldn’t respond, you were too overwhelmed with so many emotions at once

alexis began to lean into you more and more and god it was getting harder to resist him as his strong cologne infiltrated your little brain

finally, his lips were on yours. he kissed you so gently, as if at any moment you could break. you pulled him closer to you and wrapped your arms around his toned back, melting into him

one of his hands balanced him above you while his other hand began to play with your perky tits. you were grinding into him as he rolled your sensitive nipple in between his thumb and forefinger

“o-oh my god! that feels amazing..” you bucked into him more, rubbing your cunt against his leg. you were so frustrated and begging silently for any kind of friction

“slow down princesa, there’s no rush. i promise ill take care of you, okay?” he said in a sweet voice that only turned you on even more

you nodded and your eyebrows furrowed together as his mouth was now attached to one of your boobs, the other was pinching at your already sensitive nipple. you let out soft whimpers as he pawed at your chest delightfully

“g-god… this feels so wrong but so fucking good” you said breathlessly, earning a little laugh from the boy above you

his lips kissed and sucked a trail lower and lower until he reached your boxers. he licked his lips and hooked his fingers under the waistband, sliding them down your legs. you were trembling as he kissed down the front of your pussy. finally, he ran his tongue flat against what you now knew was your clit. your hands instantly buried themselves in his soft hair, pulling it in the process

“you okay?” he asked, pausing for a second. you nodded furiously and he got back to work instantly

his tongue ran circles around the bundle of nerves that were now throbbing. you bucked your hips further into his face without even noticing

suddenly, you felt a finger at your entrance. it stung ever so slightly and immediately turned into pleasure as he curved it upwards. he pumped his finger into you and continued lapping at your swollen bud. the second he added another finger, tears were rolling down your face

“just like that! oh fuck..” you cursed, back arching as you reached up and clung onto his bedsheets

alex was basically making out with your clit now. his two long fingers were curved perfectly inside of you. you were bouncing on his fingers at this point. it all felt so so good

“you taste so good y/n” alex said as he came up for air momentarily

your hands came down and were now shoving his face in between your trembling thighs. his tongue moved even faster now, syncing with his fingers that were plunging into you.

you were restless, squirming and writhing as the sound of your moans and your wetness filled the room. you felt yourself chasing your climax. your thighs clamped shut, forcing alex to stay right there and not move an inch.

as your walls clenched around your best friend’s fingers, alex was being completely engulfed in your sweet pussy. his fingers curved up one more time inside of you and your body paused completely.

you saw stars and felt yourself leaking cum out onto his fingers. you caught your breath and closed your eyes. after a few moments, alex broke the silence

“so… was i any good?” alex asked, wiping your juices from his chin, a shit eating grin on his lips

“shut your mouth and take off your pants” you rolled your eyes

alexis laughed loudly and obliged, gaking off the remaining clothes he had on. you instantly sat up on your knees, your attention completely on him

you took over, pushing his pants and underwear down in one swift motion. his erection sprang free, and you stared at it with a mix of fascination and hunger. He watched your gaze, feeling a surge of pride and desire that made him ache even more

“holy shit! dude, your dick is huge!” you said in awe, almost drooling

“open up princess” he smiled and pumped himself gently

you opened your mouth gingerly. as he lay his tip on your tongue, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. your other hand cupped his balls, grabbing at them

“you… you sure you haven’t sucked a dick before? you’re doing this so well” he grunted

“believe it or not, your dick is the first to ever touch these lips” you laughed and took him into your mouth almost entirely

alexis whimpered, one of his hands pushing the back of your head onto him further

of course you choked but alex was still enjoying this and you were definitely taking in every little whiny sound he made

you sucked his tip gently, and looked up at him through your doe eyes with your pupils blown completely, your lips wet and swollen, hair a mess, and alex almost came at the sight

“lay down” he said gently but firmly

you did as he told you and alex propped your legs up as if he were going to eat your pussy a second time. instead, he slipped himself in between your legs and hovered over you

carefully, he entered you, savoring the tightness that surrounded him. you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you adjusted to the sensation of his thickness stretching you. he waited, giving you a moment to breathe, before he began to move.

alex was in pure bliss, loving how warm and tight your cunt was. he completely forgot that this was your first time doing this, involuntarily speeding up before immediately stopping as you made a sound of pain

“okay look i respect you, you have game dude but jesus christ you need to fucking chill ! i’ve never done this shit before… at least not with a pussy” you tried to laugh off the sting

“i am so sorry y/n, you just feel so fucking good around me. i didn’t mean to hurt you, princesa” he spoke with a worried expression on his face

“sit back, okay?” you said suddenly and alex laid down, watching you crawl into his lap. a smirk made its way onto his face as he realized what you were doing

you straddled him, slowly taking him into you as you sat all the way down on his lap. you still felt some pain but it wasn’t as bad. you slowly lifted yourself up and slid back down again, your hand on his belly as he watched you intently

you gasped as his fingers pressed against your clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. your hips picked up the pace, seeking more, and he eagerly gave it, his movements growing more deliberate with every moan that escaped your lips.

“take it like a good girl… “ alexis groaned as his head fell back in pleasure

you continued to move, his cock hitting you at the perfect angle inside and the pressure of his digits on your clit motivating you to go faster

“that’s it, princess” alexis praised as he watched you bounce up and down

his free hand found your breasts, kneading them as you rode him, your breaths growing more ragged with every thrust

“oh god, you’re so fucking deep! a-alex!” you moaned as you rode his cock

your pace was slowing down as you were growing tired. alex sat up and held you close. your arms rested around his neck and you kissed him passionately as he thrusted into you while you sat on his lap

“say my name again baby, say it” he kissed you on the mouth roughly as his hands held your hips in place and he fucked into you faster now

“alex! fuck… i’ve wanted your cock inside of me for so fucking long, i need more, please!” you pleaded

your eyes locked onto his, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you felt another orgasm building. your walls tightened around him, and you could see the effect it was having on him, his jaw clenching and his eyes darkening with lust. you leaned forward, your breasts brushing against his chest, and whispered into his ear, "I'm going to cum on your big fucking cock”

your movements grew erratic as alex pushed you back slightly, giving you a new angle for him to fuck you senselessly in. the two of you made a sort of ‘v’ shape in this new position as you leaned away from one another and your sex met his in perfect rhythm

your nails dug into his hands that were on your hips, leaving half-moons that would surely bruise. he didn't care, the pain only added to his pleasure, heightening every sensation

the sight was too much for him. your fucked out expression begging for more, your supple tits bouncing as your hips crashed together. he lost control, his orgasm ripping through him like a storm. he filled you with his warmth, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you.

you came immediately after he did, loving the way you felt his thick cock twitch inside of you

you stopped moving and collapsed onto his chest, your breathing ragged and your heart pounding like a drum in her ears. alexis wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as your breathing gradually returned to normal

“you okay?” he asked, he felt your body trembling again

“yeah, just hold me okay?” you nuzzled into his chest

“okay” he said, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity fanfic #quackity x y/n #quackity smut

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kivino · 1 year ago

Text

OUT OF THE SHADOWS I || SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X SHADOW!GN!READER

Word counter – ~6.9k words

Tags/Warnings – Gn!Reader, Shadow!Reader (it’s not for long lol, don’t get your hopes up), murder of civilians/corpses/blood mentioned, physical fights, reader likes to throw fists, Reader’s callsign is Bug to pay tribute to my original idea.

Summary – After the betrayal of Task Force 141 and the slaughter of civilians in Las Almas you decide to leave Shadow Company on the spot, which works out sideways, leaving you with simmering hate towards the man whom you used to look up to and new interesting figures in your life.

also available on my ao3!

a/n after the fic because they’re too long. but just know that this is the first chapter of the series, feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part. enjoy!

Everything was calm. The sound of rain covering up the murmur of trucks helped you wind down after the adrenaline rush, and a sense of accomplishment for a job well done swelled in your chest. You already anticipated a long sleep and maybe a night out with your friends when you’re back home from the job. Maybe you’d even get a bonus from Graves and buy something nice for yourself.

In all honesty, you didn’t even mind being crammed into the backseat along with those 141 guys. Working with them was a pleasure and they seemed like an interesting sort of crowd. Especially that man with the skull mask. Ghost, was it? He certainly attracted your attention the most, with his huge size, booming voice, and undeniable skill in what he did. You were willing to admit that the way he took out the enemies with ease and swiftness was mesmerizing. And…your train of thought that consisted of pure fascination was interrupted by the abrupt stop of the convoy in front of the base gate.

Everything was calm until you were surrounded by shouting and then eventual gunshots, along with muffled screams of your brothers in arms. You didn’t understand how it all escalated so fast. One moment you were sure about Shadow Company and Task Force 141 being on the same side, but now you didn’t know what to think of it all. And from Graves' words, it was apparent that Shepherd was behind this too. So naturally you, and many other shadows, the lower ranks, had no fucking clue what all of this was about. One would care to tell a mindless weapon where to shoot, but not why. Blood rushed through your veins and pulsed in your ears, turning the pleasant buzz in your body into strained sharpness. You hurriedly pulled up the rear sight to your eye level. Two bodies dropped to the wet asphalt with soft thuds right in front of you. You felt your heart sink right down to your feet. Instead of firing your shots, you hesitated, backing out to hide behind the bumper of the truck, while hearing agitated, aggressive shouts. You weren’t able to tell who was shouting. So, you leaned out and felt yourself freeze in place.

And there he is. Ghost, eyes locked right on you. He sure has a…strong presence. And instead of shooting you he just…looks. You don’t like the stupid flowery language, but in this split second, it really feels like he is staring right into your soul. Or like someone is sticking metal rods right through your chest, with how hard breathing becomes in an instant.

You knew that if you were to shoot him right now, you’d never forgive yourself, all because you were kept in the dark about the whole thing Graves had planned. And you were not willing to get blood on your hands because of some “mistake”. If you pull the trigger, there will be one less person who’s able to make a change. One less person who’ll be willing to get their hands dirty and save people.

So, you lower the muzzle of your rifle and nod to the side, urging him to start his getaway, before other Shadows and Graves decide to check the perimeter. You see his dark eyes blink, or at least you think you do before he disappears into the darkness. Like he was never there in the first place.

In the end, you didn’t get even a single scratch. Three other Shadows were K.I.A.

Your head buzzed with so many different questions you wanted to ask Graves, and more importantly, the guilt you felt from whatever happened in front of the threshold. You had no idea what happened with that Los Vaqueros base or what was up with your CO, while you were escorting him and those 141 guys along with several other Shadows for this mission. Why was he taking it? What was he even thinking? You wanted to pull out your hair and claw out your eyes just thinking about all of it. Which, you weren’t paid to do, but that didn’t mean you weren’t concerned with the moral side of things. Unlike the majority of the Shadows, as you came to find out.

Confusion bubbled up inside of your mind, eyes burned by the white synthetic light of the gate when you looked up at it just to feel something aside from sheer distress and bewilderment. You didn’t want to believe that your Commander was the type of person to sell himself out, and you didn’t expect him to be, from all the time spent working with him. The man was nothing short of likable and friendly, with his beaming smile, confident attitude, and outgoing way of communicating… a natural-born leader, that was the first thing that came to mind when you thought about your boss. And with how Graves treated you and all other Shadows like you were more than just his employees, the realization was even more painful. Of course, you didn’t want to think about how he could so easily turn his back on people who trusted him.

It raised many questions in your mind about the price of his word, as well as made your stomach churn with acidic, flesh-eating poison full of doubt and suspicion. If it was so easy for your CO to cut out the men someone he told you all to think of as your brothers, then how long will it be before he sells you and other shadows out for…whatever was offered to him?

“Find ‘em!” Graves barks and your chest swells with bitter disappointment. You thought you knew him before (as much as a subordinate can know their superior), but how can you even begin to understand him now?

You hear Shadows mutter a quiet “Yup-yup”, more to themselves than to your CO, and you could almost feel the doubt settle over them in a thick, transparent blanket. From the conversations you can pick up on while Graves is out of earshot, you guess that some of them don’t think betraying the 141 guys and trying to hunt the two of them down is the right thing to do. But it didn’t seem like they were going to do anything about it though. You, however, want to help. You know that it’s not right, so…screw it. You can always find another job, and if it comes down to it, 141 seem like an okay sort of people, the type that would have your back if you had theirs. At least, you have hope for it.

So maybe you could hold out until they come back for Los Vaqueros. And you were certain they’d do that, no way they’d abandon all these men. You haven’t seen how the things were on said base that was taken from them, but you were certain you could do more on the inside than if you were to leave right now. Maybe you could break Colonel out of there, or help the Task Force sneak in, you were sure they could use any help from you.

That was the plan before you saw what Shadow Company did to Las Almas.

The picture that Shadows were painting with innocent blood on the rainy landscape was horrifying, to say the least. The metallic smell hit your nose the moment you jumped out of the truck right onto the flooded pavement. That was the exact moment when you realized you couldn’t stay with Shadows any longer. You were supposed to help these people. It was your job. Instead, you felt filthier than the dirt on your boots. Traitor. Backstabber. You choked on your breath behind the mask each time you noticed the bodies of the victims in every dark corner of the city, nausea coming up your throat when you could see rivers of crimson streaming down the road and right into the sewers. Your Shadow Company patch felt like the mark of a killer, etched into your skin permanently, instead of just being part of your uniform.

Limp bodies that didn’t even have the time to grow cold yet, scattered around warm homes. Some of the killed were probably already in their beds sleeping, coming back from work, watching TV, or cooking dinner when they got dragged out under the rain and massacred…Everything felt like a blur, your thoughts were a jumbled mess of whys, while you were led further into the town, to continue the revolting, disgusting crimes of your brothers-in-arms. You couldn’t stand to spend another minute in here. You need to get out before you do something you’ll never be able to forgive yourself for. You were many things, but you were not willing to go that far. Not here, not anywhere.

“Hey. Where’s Graves?” You tap another Shadow, your “close colleague” with a callsign Kruk, on the shoulder. He turns to you, while you see several other soldiers passing by, yellow streetlights barely illuminating their swiftly moving figures. You knew why it was hard for you to even look in their direction. Kruk points towards the building to the left of you two and croaks something about “briefing the rookies”. You nod and thank him, stumbling in the general direction he pointed you to.

“Commander, with all due respect, I think it’s time for you to discharge me.” You only came to your senses when you stood in front of your CO in the cramped space of someone’s living room. Wallpaper, creamy in color, dulled lights, tons of decorative cushions on the couch… Your voice is quiet, but firm, not leaving any space for compromise when you speak up to the blond man, and your politeness is as fake as this copy of “Guernica” you could see hanging on the wall. Blood pulses in your ears. You want to leave, you want out. Out of here.

“Bug, now’s not the time for jokes, I need you on the field now. We’ve got our orders.” Graves barely raises his eyes from tapping something on the tablet, that usual scowl that you got used to present on his face. His actions are as ugly as he is. Him not taking you seriously sure does a number on your confidence. But that only reassures you in your decision. You need out.

“Do I look like I’m joking? I’m leaving, because I don’t think what we’re doing is right.” You try to stay calm, you really do. But how can you, when out of something so vile he makes a joke? Makes all these people a sick joke.

A crease lies between your brows, and shadows falling over your eyes make your face look similar to a carved statue. Before talking to Graves, you decided to take off the eyewear that obscures your face and pull down the thin mask, the signatures for Shadows who are lower in the chain of command. You’re the faceless sort, after all. “And I don’t think you know your place.” You’re instantly taken aback by his sudden outburst, but you don’t let it show. “I point and you shoot. I sign your paychecks, Bug, and you take them.” You feel something inside of you flinch at the way he mutters your callsign. “I’m in charge. You don’t have a say in what we do.” With each statement, his gloved finger points from him to you, making the rage and frustration boil inside of your chest. You trusted Graves and he led all of your colleagues, along with you to dragging out unarmed, innocent people in the dead of night out of their houses on their streets and executing them. Hell of a leader he is.

“Well, I’m stepping down. If that’s what we do, I don’t want to take part in it.” You wanted to tell him a lot more, give Graves a piece of your mind on war crimes and killing people in their own homes. On how drowning Las Almas in blood won’t fix whatever the fuck he was trying to fix right now. Instead, you kept it to yourself, tightening your fists just so you didn’t spit in his face or punch him.

“You’re putting a target on your back. Do you not understand how what you’re saying makes you look?” Graves leans in closer to you, the low volume of his voice making it even more threatening, similar to the hissing of a snake. Give him a minute and he will start spewing real venom right in your face.

“You know that whatever you’re thinking is not true.” To be completely honest, you didn’t care what he thought right now. Graves’ mind and morals were clearly in the wrong place if he considered all this bloodshed justified.

“Do I really? A moment ago I was sure that you were my subordinate, now I’m not even sure what to make of you.” You’re barely able to resist rolling your eyes at this. Your heart is picking up the pace with each minute. Getting more and more desperate to leave your body altogether, just so you don’t have to listen to his bullshit any longer. You wish it was that easy.

“I’m not taking orders from you. Not anymore.” Saying this took a lot more out of you than you expected, you felt your chest tremble when you met your CO’s eyes.

“Well, would you just look at that, you happen to be a fan of our local drug lord too?” If eyes could kill, Graves would’ve dropped dead right this moment. He smiles, his sharp canines peeking from under his top lip. He knows he’s making your skin crawl and your stomach flip from this interaction, which, if you’re lucky, would be the last for the two of you. “Helping the cartel and corrupt police won’t look too good on your resume”

“I see you’re just making it up as you go.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in your chest. Shaky. Uneven. Infuriated. Your eyes are drilling Graves’, a deep frown between them as proof of how much you despise him now, for the baseless assumption too. After a moment of silence, you add. “You know what my stance on this is. Whether I get your approval or not, I’m leaving.” Graves finally withdraws from your personal space, sliding the palm over his face with a heavy sigh, as his lips tighten into a thin line. You knew that this combination meant he was trying to calm down. After a moment of silence, he speaks up again.

“Look, Bug, you’re a smart kid and frankly, I like you.” he makes a short pause, sighing. “So, I’ll give you a fighting chance. Five minutes – if you’re not out of the city, then you’re a target.” He wasn’t that fucking courteous with the civilians that lay dead a few meters away. Shot on sight. Without any questions. You grit your teeth.

What are you supposed to do with that? Those five minutes didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, most likely, you’ll be rotting in the ditch somewhere shortly after your time runs out - too little to get out of the city or find the Task Force you so desperately wanted to help. Graves won’t leave any witnesses. And you are one. He knows it’s not going to be easy for you to just turn on the Shadows like that too, even though you despised what they were doing while following his orders. They still were your family. Dysfunctional and disproportionately big, but family, nonetheless. Even if they deserved it for their lack of action to prevent what was happening now, you don’t turn on your family like that. What he’s doing is forcing your hand.

Regardless, you have no choice but to take Graves up on his last “generous” offer.

“What are you waiting for, hm? Get out of here while you can.” You didn’t need to be told that twice. So, still balancing your rifle on your arm, your free hand reaches for that patch on your shoulder. Tearing it off in a quick motion makes the sound of Velcro strips snapping open almost echo from how quiet it is. It felt like a whole mountain dropped off of your shoulders when you threw the patch on the ground and stormed out of the building right into the pouring rain.

You felt goosebumps and tremors creeping up your spine as you ran through the dark streets, getting more and more soaked with each second. You didn’t feel much better though. The resentment for Graves grew each second, with all the steps that sent ripples on the surface of the deep puddles, and every raindrop that fell from the copper-colored clouds. But now wasn’t the time to wallow in your misery. Although you wanted to. It did feel like the loss of a person you used to know, of someone you looked up to. The only thing is, he was still living and breathing, and the only thing that died was that idealized image of him in your head.

There was a cold hollowness somewhere in your chest. Gaping with the darkness that, and you were sure of it, will eat you alive soon enough. Even though you backed out of the Shadow company, it won’t bring back all the people who are not here anymore. You won’t fix it, no matter how hard you try. That bitter guilt snaked its way into the back of your mind and it was there to help stay.

You managed to pull yourself out of this to make things right. But why do you feel so helpless still?

Your footsteps get faster and faster, as you maneuver through the narrow alleyways, staying out of the range your former colleagues were in. It was easy to hear them, gunshots and voices echoed throughout the city in a weird cacophony that your ears got used to after a long time working for the Shadow Company. They were not afraid, probably feeling like masters here. Somebody has to give them a scare, you thought. So they know better in the future. But it wasn’t your job at the moment. Right now, you needed to get out and do it as soon as possible.

Stopping and coming up with any sort of plan that would help you was not an option - hang in somewhere for too long and you’ll be found. And you were sure you wouldn’t be shown any mercy.

So instead of staying on the street, where you can be easily spotted with the help of the dim light of a flashlight, you decide to alternate between the corridors of empty homes, with doors wide open for anyone seeking shelter, and the maze of alleyways crawling with Shadows. It felt wrong, invading someone’s homes like this, but you knew if they were unlocked and lights beamed around them, giving out a warm glow the inhabitants were most likely not coming back.

You felt that tingle on the nape of your neck, ready to hide or flee in case you heard any sudden movement from any direction. It’s dead quiet, except for occasional radio talk from the shadows, which you tried to listen in on when you could. It didn’t give you much on where 141 could be. You would start losing hope if you had any left after Graves. But you continue your search nonetheless, reflexes instead of thinking, pure determination instead of hope, and fire in your veins, instead of blood.

That is until you quietly step inside another warm hallway, and you’re met with a wide-eyed stare from another Shadow that makes you freeze like a deer in the headlights. Something inside of you starts to churn with terror from the looming understanding – only one of you will walk out of here alive. Your eyes trail down to the raven patch on his tac vest. It’s Kruk. You want to ask what he is doing here, but you already feel his gaze studying you too. And as soon as he sees that the Shadow Company patch is missing from your uniform, the muzzle of his rifle points right at you. Fucking shit.

“Drop your gun, Kruk!” You warn the man, pointing the weapon in his direction too. He only shakes his head, refusing to stand down. With each second air is laced with tension more and more, you were sure that soon enough it’ll be so thick even a knife wouldn’t cut through it.

“You drop yours first.” His voice is shaky and unsure like he can’t believe what he’s doing right now either. “Commander gave us an order. You’re an enemy now too, Bug. Better get used to it.” Kruk started slowly approaching you, while pulling something out of the bag, strapped on his hip.

“Oh, fuck that!” You swing towards Kruk, trying to approach him in your momentary rage, but you’re immediately met with the warning “Don’t” from Kruk, who doesn’t stand down. “You know what they’re doing here. It doesn’t matter to you?” The man is silent. You don’t see his face behind his mask, so you’re left with even more questions instead of answers. Regardless of what he was thinking right now, you didn’t want to hurt him. So, you bend down and put your rifle on the ground with a quiet clack. If he needs a gesture of goodwill, he can have it. “Your turn.” Kruk only shakes his head.

“Turn around.” So, it was a mistake to trust him. Naturally. Your gullibility will be your downfall. You can almost feel the bitter taste spread inside of your mouth when you look at Kruk. Fucking asshole. But you comply, although reluctantly. He grabs you roughly by the wrists with one hand and by the neck with another, leading you toward what looks like a kitchen in the dim lights falling through the doorway. You get lowered on your knees and then pressed into the dirty floor. And it hits right then and there. He’s going to execute you. Oh, shit, shit, shit.

“You know that I don’t want to do this.” He says quietly so that any shadows passing by don’t hear him. You feel your heartbeat shake your whole body and nausea so intense like you are on the verge of throwing up all of your internal organs, but giving up is just not an option right now. So, you try to prevent him from tying your hands together with all the strength you have.

“Then don’t fucking do it!” He does not answer this as you continue squirming in his hold, trying to make it as hard as possible for him to restrain you. He only grunts but keeps a firm grip. Your head was a mess, you thought Shadows were a family. But all it took was one order from Graves, now they’re scouring the town like damn bloodhounds for you too.

“Get…off of me!” You grit through your teeth. You feel a zip tie slide over your hands and turn your head. The rifle he previously held in his hands was gone, probably so he could tie you up properly, so you take your chance and deliver a hard kick to Kruk’s stomach. He chokes out a pained gasp and finally lets go of your hands. You scurry to get up from the floor with wide smears of rainwater and dirt decorating it, but you get grabbed by the leg, which causes you to stumble and fall once again. You turn your head and kick Kruk with all your might, while attempting to take off the zip tie off your wrists, which, thankfully, he didn’t have the time to close.

You manage to shake the man off of you, as you scramble to your feet, knocking over a corner table with some decorations on it. Yet when you see Kruk fumbling with his hip holster you immediately tackle him to the ground, which causes him to drop the handgun. The whole fight is just a mess, nothing but blinding rage is pulsing in your temples, melting your bones and muscles into something no better than an animal. You get up again, while Kruk is on the floor, searching for the handgun in the darkness. You feel the heavy metal press against your boot and you kick it behind you. You hear it slide across the floor and here it is. Kruk’s eyes, are directed right at you. His hands claw at your leg, trying to drag you down to the floor. And then you black out completely. Kicking, punching, pained wheezes and screams are all you hear, a stuffy abyss with little to no specks of light surrounding you.

You come back to your senses when you don’t feel the familiar weight of your handgun pressing against your hip and then you see it again. Kruk managed to grab it while you were in your anger-induced frenzy. Everything around you slows down. His shaky fingers pull on the safety, but you reach out and grab his hands, pulling them up, not letting him aim at you. Kruk grunts and you see his eyes focused on you in fear, and desperation, as he tries to overpower you in the struggle. You see his weakened state, but the self-preservation is stronger than any compassion towards him at the moment. Kruk will take your life if you don’t take his. That’s just the gist of it. You can’t let him walk away.

Your hands tremble when he manages to overpower you momentarily, but it’s all in vain when you press the handgun harder and harder into his frame, feeling his hands start to yield more and more with each second, strength leaving him. The fear in his eyes is directed at you and only you, but you try not to look. The muzzle of your gun is pressed snugly under his chin. Your gaze trails to his eyes once again. They burn you with terror. Your fingers hook around the trigger guard. You hear a faint whisper.

“Please…”

Gunshot rings in your ears for another second, despite the earmuffs in your helmet.

“Fuck! Fuck…I’m so sorry…I’m sorry.” It all came crashing down on you in one moment. You wouldn’t feel guilty if it was the enemy, you wouldn’t care. He was an enemy now, so why do you feel so guilty, why is it starting to corrode and eat you alive even more? Your palms cover the profusely bleeding gunshot wound, going through his neck and cranium, hot blood pouring out with impossible speed, staining your hands, gear, and skin. Staining your whole being. How could you do something like this? Shadows are family. Killing an unarmed man who’s pleading for his life?

You’re no better than Graves.

The gunshot alerts the Shadows and they start scurrying around on the street. You have no time to mourn Kruk or search for your rifle in the dark, so you yank your handgun out of his hands which only started succumbing to rigor mortis, and sprint out the backdoor, desperately attempting to get away. You can feel your heartbeat booming in your ears, wet hair sticking to the nape of your neck, as you hear distant commotion and a chase stirring behind you, as you dart inside another building and run through the hallways, searching for a way out.

Back on the street, rain droplets are so cold that it feels like they’re splitting your skin open, you can barely feel the pain in your ankle from adrenaline pumping through your blood flow. You start slipping on the slick pavement, but you still refuse to stop, diving inside another doorway. Your head hurts, your lungs feel like they are about to explode, and you think you stepped into a puddle of someone’s blood. No time to ram through the locked door, so you jumped out of the second-story window and landed on your foot, twisting it in the process and swallowing the sob that welled up in your throat. You needed to move.

That bought you some time to get up and dip into the dark alleyway before you heard the loud footsteps approaching the window that you used to escape. You let out a heavy exhale, propping your back against the cold stone. You’re not completely safe, but…that’s better than nothing. The commotion of shadows quiets down and you hear it become more and more distant with each second.

After a moment of silence, you continue moving, albeit slowly, trying to get used to the hot pulsing in your leg, that shot up right through your nerves with each step you tried to take. You wince and whine in pain, dragging your leg behind, grabbing at the moist stone walls, clinging to them for any sort of support. However, it’s not much of a help.

Your escape is cut short when your legs finally give out, causing you to stumble and fall while crossing the church garden. Although it probably looked magical in the daylight, right now it was far from it, the smell of metal and smoke still lacing the darkness. You already feel your ankle swelling and some bruises forming under all your gear. You see the lights on the exterior of the church blend into the ribbon of lights and shadows and the thought crosses your mind. You can hide there.

You almost fly up the stairs despite the hurting leg, fumbling with the door for a second, before it creaks open. You shuffle inside with light steps and close the door behind you as quietly as you can. Your knees tremble as you slide down the cold wall and crawl further inside the building, barely feeling any strength left in you. God, you are so drained. Strained gasps are ripped out of your throat every second. You want nothing more than to lie down right there in this church and just let the darkness overtake you in a peaceful slumber. That would be so easy.

Your calm moment is interrupted by someone yanking you up on your feet, to which you let out a surprised yelp. You can’t see the person, but you can feel their hands tugging on your gear roughly and dragging you somewhere. It takes you a second to weigh your pretty limited options given the fact it’s so dark that you are barely able to make out your surroundings. So, you decide to take this fight head on and your heavy boot comes down right on their foot, which prompts the person to grunt, revealing a pretty low male voice, and let go of you.

You tear out from his grasp and almost tumble down to the church floor, bunching up dust with your loud, uneven footsteps. Your back is hunched as you look up at the dark figure from under your eyebrows, ready to deflect any blows if he decides to attack first. You stay silent, feeling like a cornered animal in his presence, small, feeble. Weak. Of course, you were at a disadvantage here, taking a beating, running from Shadows, twisting your ankle, and losing your rifle certainly didn’t help your chances to win, but you were ready to claw your way out of here with your bare hands, breaking your nails and skinning your hands if you had to.

But any punches or kicks you try to land the man easily deflects or blocks, not trying to attack or overpower you however, opting to just take up the defensive position in the fight. Which is, admittedly, a lot easier than taking the offensive one. Maybe he was aiming to exhaust you and then, when you are at your lowest point, he would attack. That seemed like a solid tactic, but you don’t want to let that happen. However, before you can think of anything you end up rolling with the man on the floor. You can hear him huff in frustration and exertion, the wood pressing harshly against your ribs and all the bruises on your lower body pulsing with pain.

After some struggle, however, you managed to tackle the man to the ground, pressing him down to the floor with your weight. Your hands snaked their way onto his neck as you glared at him, resisting the urge to bare your teeth akin to a stray, abused, and betrayed dog, crawling with fleas and parasites. Choking him out obviously wasn’t a nice thing to do, but you were trying to send a message here, that if you continue being followed, you will use your strength. If violence was the only language Shadows understood (and that’s who you believe the man was) then you were ready to become fluent.

“I swear, I’ll fucking kill you!” You press him into the floor harder, hands squeezing the man’s throat, your vision going blurry. You feel his hands grasp at your wrists, but he does not resist. Why is he not trying to shake you off? Why is he letting you choke him like this? Why is he not fighting back?

“Let go, Bug.” The man’s voice is strained, but familiar, he whispers through his closed jaw. You can hear the way his throat tenses up, or his Adam’s apple bobs under your thick gloves, the warmth of his skin, and the moisture that seeped into the mask. Mask. More light falls through the window thanks to the momentary flicker of the streetlight. Skull. Eight lines on his chin, two on the forehead. Dark brown eyes.

Your hands shoot up like his neck is on fire. Guilt settles in your gut and your throat, pulling you in like you’re some puppet with no free will. You try to get up from the man’s midsection but tumble down on your side from trying to do it too quickly. It’s Ghost. How the hell did you not recognize Ghost?

“I’m sorry. I’m not…myself right now.” You were now sitting on the floor, palms resting on your face, wet from the rain, skin burning up, either trying to regulate the temperature or from all the exertion. Either way, it didn’t matter right now.

“Yeah, you made it pretty obvious.” Ghost coughs, trying to shake off your attempt to cut off his air circulation just seconds ago, as he gets up from his lying position. “At least now I know you’ve got a good grip.” He lets out a deep chuckle which only earns him an eyebrow raise from you. He was joking at a time like this? Must’ve hit his head pretty hard too.

“I could’ve choked you. Why did you not fight back more?” You were royally confused about that. He could’ve stopped the fight before it even began and avoided some bruises along with the sore neck if he just told you who he was or fought back. But he didn’t.

Ghost wants to say something, but stops himself right after opening his mouth. You see it in the way he looks at you. The pause stretches for an endless amount of time and you feel your skin crawling with anxiety while his eyes study your face.

“I was going easy on ya.” Ghost says in a rather blunt manner, which didn’t answer that many of your questions. Well, if he was going easy, he should’ve been at least going at you, which wasn’t true – you saw him only defending himself and blocking some of your blows. Did he?.. Was he trying not to hurt you? Okay, the more you thought about it, the wilder it sounded. Maybe you should just drop it. “I don’t suppose you came here to wash your sins away.” You want to scoff from the bad taste. “Lil’ birdie told me you ditched the Shadows. Any particular reason why?” The man inquires, turning to you. Sitting like this on the floor with him felt unusual, like some sort of weird church sleepover. Give Ghost a minute and he’ll bring you some ice cream so you two can watch some wacky TV shows together.

“Did your little birdie also tell you that Graves is hunting me down too?” You ask while pulling your drenched mask over your face. It brought some comfort and familiarity that were gone the moment you spoke to your CO in that living room. And, well, it would be awkward if Ghost was the only one in the mask.

“I guessed by the gunshots, some racket, and a horde of Shadows taking a night run through the neighborhood close by.” The man chuckles and you feel your face burn up in embarrassment under your mask. You try not to let it show, however. You knew that it wasn’t a very sleek move that you pulled with Kruk, but you were desperate and you didn’t need motherfucking Ghost telling you it was stupid.

“You’re just hilarious. Is that how you became a lieutenant, by cracking jokes left and right?” You roll your eyes and hope he won’t notice it in the darkness. This banter was pointless, you knew it but…you needed it. It was not easy losing something familiar, so you desperately wanted to feel that camaraderie you experienced in the Shadows.

“You’ll find out once you’re a lieutenant yourself.” And Ghost indulges you. Which, you are thankful for. Isn’t such a scary guy after all, huh?

“Yeah, if I’m alive long enough.” You scoff at his concealed attempt to comfort and reassure you, but you can’t help that warm feeling in your chest. Weird.

“Well, you’ve already surpassed my expectations by staying alive until now.” The man stands up from the floor with a low grunt, pressing an arm around his midsection, right around where you might’ve pinned him to the floor with your body. “Let’s make sure it lasts, eh?” He extends a gloved hand toward you in an open, inviting gesture. Your eyes trail over his huge figure and land on specks of light in his eyes.

His eye black is all smudged and messy.

You have to shake off the sudden thought, observation too close and intimate for your liking, as you grab him by the forearm, trying to ignore the way your skin burns up when you feel his warmth through his gear. Ghost pulls you up to your feet, but doesn’t let go of your arm once you’re up. You don’t let go either. The silence rings in your ears. God, he’s so warm.

“Are you like a human furnace or something?” You joke to fill the excruciating silence. Which you immediately regret. You wish it wasn’t so dark so you could see just how his face stretched the fabric of a skull mask, which you clearly heard happen by a small shuffle very close to you. Who knows, maybe he cracked a smile?

“Why? Need someone to warm you up at night?” Okay, this is terrible and stupid, and so damn corny, and why do you feel your cheeks grow hot and breath get stuck in your chest? Maybe that’s just how awful his jokes are. Ghost clears his throat and reluctantly lets go of your forearm, fingers still clinging to your sleeve as he pulls himself away too quickly for it to be something nonchalant or casual.

“So, are you answering my question, or do I have to use torture?” Fucking hell, his jokes are morbid. You almost forgot in those several hours you haven’t interacted with him. Although that would be quite hard, he leaves quite an impression, after all.

“Well, I suppose you’ve seen the…the civilians?” You can’t call them anything besides that. To call them corpses is to take away from their whole being. To call them dead would just be a lie. They were still alive in the walls of their homes, in the memories of their breathing relatives and friends, and in the pictures, their traces are everywhere. Ghost silently nods to your question, prompting you to continue. “Then here’s your reason.” You didn’t want to explain your feelings in great detail. And you didn’t feel the need to; you saw the compassion in his eyes. “Plus, the whole thing with the Los Vaqueros base.” If you saw Ghost’s face now you’d note how the expression darkened in a single moment. However, you do feel the temperature in the room fall several degrees lower, so you decide to joke again. “Pay wasn’t that good anyway, so…”

“Fair enough.” The man chuckles while rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll keep an eye on you though. Don’t think you can just waltz in here like this and be completely trusted.” Well, that’s understandable. If you were him you wouldn’t trust yourself either. Although you did hope that the mercy you’ve shown him earlier would influence his decision making. At least a little bit. “And you better toss that thing. Or else.” He points to the radio, still strapped to your tactical vest. You unclasp the device, detaching the small microphone that was holding on by a thread, and hand it to Ghost.

“You’re welcome to get rid of it for me.” And he doesn’t waste any time, dropping the radio on the ground, stomping on it so hard that the sound of it breaking echoes through the church. You assess the scraps of wires and plastic on the floor with a pitiful gaze, coming to a conclusion that you wouldn’t want to end up under Ghost’s boot. Or maybe you would, but under different circumstances. “Well, that’s…effective.”

“You good with the sniper rifle?” The man ignores your previous remark, immediately firing back with the question.

“Decent.” You were a lot better in close quarters and preferred a more hands-on approach. But a sniper rifle wasn’t that bad. As long as he doesn’t ask you to use it without a scope.

“You’re on the lookout with me then. Don’t screw it up.”

Oh, you’re absolutely not going to.

check out my masterlist or send me a request!

a/n – first of all, thank you for reading this fic, and if you enjoyed it, consider dropping me a comment, i’ll really appreciate it! SECOND OF ALL. I’M NOT A GRAVES HATER, DON’T COME @ ME. segment with him also was written before the campaign release, so in case there are some inaccuracies with the plot/his character – let me know, so I can fix it. all of this is a huge rework of the series that I started but never posted. Originally, it was supposed to be Graves x Reader, but for multiple reasons, moral mostly, it didn’t quite sit right with me. So instead of letting 6k words first part that I’ve written and abandoned go to waste, I decided to remake it into something else here, based on the idea of @mockerycrow (ily you have such a big brain)! so yeah, that’s it for now!

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owliellder · 1 year ago

Text

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Final Word Count: 22.6k

Author's Note: Ta-da! I put a lot of work into this last chapter, like actually becoming the president for a couple hours, but I really wanted to make it worth everyone's time for sticking around and reading all the way through.

Thank you so much for following along! All the sweet comments from you guys never fails to make my day!

^//v//^

Cross posted on AO3

The Reveal

Almost three months.

It took almost three months for Leon's portrait to fully dry after it had been varnished. You'd checked it almost daily after the two month mark due to Leon's constant pestering. He was understandably antsy, and admittedly, you were too.

There was a lot of convincing involved, but you managed to keep the man at home while you transported the painting to the White House. He worried it would be damaged en-route. Such a little worry wart.

Setting up the painting's respective spot a column away from Chris and Claire's seemed very appropriate; tall, fake bushes sitting on either side of where it would be placed, a warm yellow bulb lighting up the inside of the decorative archway, and the patterned golden frame where the canvas would forever be now hung empty in that portrait hallway, waiting to be pieced together and completed.

The shiny gold placard had already been screwed onto the frame, words zapped on it via laser:

Leon S. Kennedy

USSTRATCOM Agent from 1998 - 2011

D.S.O. Agent from 2011 - 2017

You knew how long he'd been working as an agent, but it was still baffling nonetheless. Nearly 20 years of non-stop intense and usually very traumatizing work, what a feat.

Moving on, you'd worked out the plans for Leon's farewell party with the President and a few coordinators over the span of a few days, making sure to store the painting in a secure room for the time being. It was to stay covered with a violet piece of velvet cloth up until the reveal at the party, no one was allowed to see it besides you, the President, and the various security guards working the grounds.

After another two extra months of waiting, the farewell party was drawing near. There had to be enough time given for invitations to be sent out to people, wait for said people to RSVP, and allow travel time. And at this point, Leon was busting at the seams; extremely nervous, excited, and even a little scared at the prospect of it all.

Your words from that second painting session all those months ago never left his mind: "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

The man clung to that, doing his best to internalize it and mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He was hoping you were exaggerating, but from what Chris, Claire, and even Jill have told him about their experience after the fact, he knew deep down that you'd seen it all too well before.

What Leon failed to realize was that he wasn't alone anymore. Sure he had his friends to help, but he'd never had someone to come home to everyday.

During the last few sessions, he had asked to stay with you at your apartment, citing the potential aftermath of the party as reasoning. However, you really didn't need him to explain his reasoning, you would've let him. Even if he just felt like it, you would've welcomed him with opened arms.

Besides, he'd already been staying at your place for longer periods of time over the months. You'd visited his house a few times, but he made sure to whine and complain about how bare and boring it was. If you remember correctly, Leon had said, word for word, that your apartment "felt like a warm hug". With that, he shelled up with you in only a couple weeks before the painting had dried. He made special effort to learn your routine, wanting to give you the space that you needed while also maximizing his time spent with you.

Leon was an actual angel, you were wholeheartedly convinced. Some days you would come home after working on another painting to the man cooking dinner, having bought an expensive wine to share with you. When your hands would start to ache and your back and shoulders were sore from the long hours spent holding a paintbrush in an awkward hunched position, he would set aside anything he had going on just to give you all the massages, kisses, and love that you could ever want.

Nothing was ignored when it came to you and your wants and needs. Leon admitted awhile back that he felt guilty for intruding on your space, though you were very quick to shut that down. He was far from a burden, actually lining up more with a dream come true.

And just like he did with you, you spared nothing while getting to know the in's and out's of the man that occupied your mind, heart, and home. You learned his favorite meals, watched his favorite shows and movies with him, returning the massages when he would return from the gym, and paid extra attention to how he liked to be held at night. Who would've guessed that the Leon Kennedy loved to be the little spoon?

What you spent the most time on was making sure to listen when he suddenly went on tangents about his past. They really did haunt him. You would wake up in the middle of the night to him huddled at the top of the bed, arms wrapped around his legs and head between his knees as he did his best to cry quietly. All you could do for him in those moments was pull him against your chest, gently rocking him back and forth while whispering sweet nothings, just until he felt either ready to talk or ready to fall back asleep. If he just wanted more comfort, then that's what he got, obviously.

He was only recently put on a couple medications to help him better manage his PTSD and anxiety since he really had to cut back on the alcohol in order to take them the way he needed. Definitely worth it to both you and him seeing as his nightmares lessened in intensity and frequency.

Now here you were, straightening out Leon's tie for him since his hands were failing him, nerves getting the better of him. He had taken his meds a few minutes ago, wanting to have the full effect during the party to combat any destructive behaviors during it, so it was no wonder his hands were still trembling.

"You're going to do so well, Leon." You smiled, giving him a gentle pat between his pecs after tucking his tie into his suit jacket. He was staring straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed with worry as he stared at himself in the mirror. "You've made so much progress and I couldn't be any prouder."

He licked his dry lips before slowly looking down at you, giving you the best smile he could, which was really just him pulling his lips back tight. If it weren't for you constantly being around to encourage him and push him to get better, he would not be able to attend his own farewell party.

How had he managed to get so far without this level of love and care? Where would he even be without you? Hopefully later when his mind isn't racing a million miles per minute, Leon will be able to tell you just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

Leon watched you in the mirror as you walked around to stand behind him, straightening out his suit jacket in random spots until deciding to just wrap your arms around his midriff, pressing the side of your face against his back with a content sigh. He brought his still-trembling hands up to hold onto your arms, rubbing his thumbs up and down across your soft skin.

His eyes settled back on his own face after staring at your arms linked around him, letting out a shaky sigh of his own as he attempted to just focus on this moment. You were perfect, ethereal, a true work of art. He wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

It took some time, about an hour, before Leon's medication was starting to kick in. You were definitely a big help, he couldn't give all the credit to his meds.

His relaxed demeanor wasn't easy to spot, the man was just naturally rigid, but you waited until he let you know that he was ready; ready to go to his farewell party, ready to see the portrait you painted for him, ready to put in the effort into accepting the next chapter in his life.

The drive to the White House was seamless, having been picked up in a blacked out SUV that held four personal guards, courtesy of the President. Leon wasn't going to complain, he actually kind of liked the pampering effect that came with being driven around by a dedicated entourage.

Almost all good feelings were drained from Leon when the car finally pulled up to the front of the White House where more guards stood waiting to escort the two of you inside. It was still early in the night, but the sun had set long ago, making for quite the beautiful atmosphere.

He could see numerous party attendees walking up the stairs, dressed up in their fanciest outfits for him. He held your hand the entire way up the stairs and into the entrance hall with a grip that was sure to leave your hand hurting. No matter, you could tell he needed you. That vice grip he had was well worth it for his comfort.

There were quite a few more people than either you or Leon expected. It seems as if all available agents, young, old, and retired, had been sent an invitation for tonight, along with quite a few high-ranking government workers. Luckily, this was a private event; no reporters, no news, only those who had been fortunate enough to be invited.

The first to spot you two was Chris who quickly made his way over to pull Leon into a bone-crushing hug, giving him a few solid pats on the back before letting go. Leon only reciprocated the hug with one hand, the other refusing to let go of yours, though his grip had loosened by now.

"Where's Claire?" Leon muttered, leaning to the side to scan over the sizeable crowd. "She's.." Chris turned around to also scan the crowd, squinting a bit as he looked. "She's somewhere. My wife is with her, her family, and Jill."

Leon pursed his lips with a curt nod, humming quietly in acknowledgement before standing straight again. He glanced down at where his hand held yours, squeezing it again for just a second as if to remind himself that you haven't gone anywhere.

Chris had turned back around to see the small gesture Leon gave to you, a coy smirk on his face. "What uhh... what's all this, huh?" He subtly pointed between you and the other man, voice lowered.

Leon cleared his throat and looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear despite the volume in the hall. "... M'gonna save that for the-.. the speech." Chris just nodded, crossing his arms before slowly turning to look through the crowd again. "Alright, well, let me go find the family and bring them over before you're swarmed." And with that, Chris made his way back into the crowd.

Unfortunately, Leon had been spotted by the rest of the partygoers before Chris could return with everyone. Many pleasantries were repeated while also returning small talk with the people he recognized, which was a lot. You managed to avoid most of it, only being questioned a few times due to the rather obvious hold the man had on you. Despite having attended the last few parties like this, most people unable to recognize you as the artist. A blessing and a curse.

The next couple hours were spent eating finger foods, conversing with whoever, and enjoying the way Leon started to flow with the event. He soon found his way to Chris, Claire, their partners and kids, and Jill which really helped him loosen up. He needed the more familiar faces, having now let go of your hand fully to talk more animatedly with them. You made sure to stick by his side as long as you could, letting out a soft laugh every time you noticed his quick glances over to you to check if you're still there.

The time eventually did come for you to part with Leon, signaling a couple guards to follow you down a few hallways until reaching the room where the portrait sat, still covered with the violet cloth. The decision to keep it back here for so long was made by the President, wanting less of a sudden reveal and more of a build up.

Normally it would already be hanging in the entrance hall, covered and ready to be revealed, but not wanting to risk any potential damage, you were asked to hold off bringing it in until the President was ready to give the speech leading up to Leon's.

It'd been set in the golden frame rather quickly with the help from one of the guards that walked down with you. You had the guard to hold it up for you so you could give it one final good look before he was instructed to lead you back. After recovering, you took the portrait in both hands, holding it close as you were escorted back through the halls and into the main entrance hall.

By now everyone had directed their focus closer to the center of the back wall. Next to where the President stood, your own art easel was now set up. That was mostly as homage to you and it wasn't like anyone besides you would understand that it's yours, though Leon did pick up on that little feature. He'd been staring at the back of that thing for months, counted the various old streaks of paint on the pale wood over and over.

It made his farewell all the more personal, struggling to mask the feeling of the ever-growing pit in his stomach from the friends he was still standing next to.

The sound of a mic being tapped drew everyone's attention in to the President, the volume in the hall quieting to a whisper, soon completely silent as he began to speak into the mic;

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you to honor and pay tribute to a true hero, a dedicated public servant, and a loyal friend who has served our nation with unwavering dedication for the past 19 years. It is with great respect and admiration that I address you on this occasion, as we bid farewell to a remarkable agent who has exemplified the very best qualities of service and sacrifice." As the President spoke, Leon held his breath, hands gripping onto his suit jacket to keep from trembling again.

At this point, you'd silently walked along the side with the guards from before, bringing the covered portrait up to the front before carefully placing it on your easel. "Throughout this nation's history, these agents have played an essential role in ensuring the safety and security of our nation's people and have consistently placed their lives on the line to protect the sanctity of our democracy. And today, we acknowledge one agent who has done so with unparalleled devotion."

"This retiring agent has been a silent sentinel, ensuring the continuity of our democratic ideals. Through countless hours of training, vigilance, and selflessness, they have demonstrated a level of commitment that is nothing short of extraordinary. But beyond their exceptional professional duties, this agent has been a friend and a confidant to those of us privileged to work alongside them. They have been a source of strength, a steady hand in turbulent times, and a symbol of the unbreakable bond that can form within the ranks of those who dedicate their lives to service."

You positioned yourself opposite of the President, placing your hands behind your back to keep your posture tall as you now smiled at the crowd, subtly scanning for Leon. His eyes were already on you when you found him, and your smile only widened further.

It prompted his own nervous smile, toying with the buttons on his jacket while turning his attention back to the President, wanting to remain respectful to his, honestly, very flattering speech so far. You followed Leon's eyes, seemingly having the same idea to just watch and listen.

"The sacrifices made by our agents often go unnoticed by the public, and that is by design. Their commitment to duty is matched only by their humility. But today, we pause to recognize and celebrate this retiring agent's dedication, valor, and sacrifice." The President continued to address the attendees in the room, giving you a quick nod before returning his focus to everyone in the entrance hall.

The President outstretched his hand towards Leon standing in the crowd, now staring at him with a prideful yet relaxed look. "To Mr. Leon S. Kennedy, our retiring agent and loyal friend, thank you for your 19 years of dedicated service to our nation. May your retirement be filled with the peace and contentment that you so richly deserve. You leave behind a legacy of honor and courage that will never be forgotten." The crowd of attendees clapped and cheered briefly, causing Leon to reach his hand up to wipe across his face. A poor way to hide his red face. He's done that before, hasn't he?

Once the crowd quieted back down, the President finished his speech with a classic, "May God bless you, your family, and may God continue to bless the United States of America. Thank you" before the crowd picked back up cheering and clapping. You clapped along with them, laughing at Leon's flustered expression. He could barely hold back his smile, not really have expecting to be so well recognized for his service.

Leon's queue to make his way to the front was when the President walked over to stand next to you, making sure not to block the covered portrait from anyone's view. He'd recited this speech to you countless times, even more to himself when he was alone, but all those eyes staring at him were causing him to fumble. He messed around with the mic once he was standing in front of it, and that was your queue to walk over and stand next to him, placing a loving hand on his forearm.

That's all he needed, just a little extra encouragement from the person he relied on the most. His speech was short and straight to the point, never having been a man of professional word, yet he still managed to slip in some words of praise for you and all the help you provided him during his rough patch earlier in the year.

Neither you or Leon had outright said it to each other, let alone to anyone else, but hearing him announce to the entire hall of people that you were his girlfriend made your heart soar. Speaking about you calmed his nerves, and he wanted everyone to know just how lucky he felt, like he'd hoped for earlier.

He bent over slightly to whisper in your ear, covering the mic with his hand to make sure it didn't pick up his voice. "Now, why don't you go ahead and show us all that masterpiece you spent months working on?" Oh, now you were the flustered one, giggling nervously as you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before walking over to where the painting sat on the easel.

"Ladies and gentleman," Leon's eyes followed you as he straightened his posture out, speaking into the mic once more with a wide smile gracing his features, "I'm honored to have the wonderful artist herself present my very own portrait to you." As he spoke, you carefully lifted the cloth from where it was draped over the painting, finally revealing the ever-awaited portrait to everyone.

Just like with Chris and Claire's, Leon was sat in that soft maroon chair, slightly off center, but his position was different with his right ankle rested atop his left knee, elbows on the arms of the chair while his hands rested in his lap, fingers interlaced. His smile was soft and partially crooked while he looked forward with relaxed eyes, a few strands of hair painted to sit in front of his brow. And to tie it all together, it had a lovely green background, a dark forest green as the base while a sage green was used to add texture. The vintage look had always been your favorite, and Leon fit it so perfectly. He was nearly timeless.

Many "ooo's" and "ahh's" were heard amongst the clapping from the crowd, along with a handshake from the President. Before you could turn to face Leon, you felt his arms slowly slink around you from underneath your arms, the weight of his head now pressing down on your shoulder. You could feel his grin when he tilted his head to kiss your jawline, beginning to gently rock you side to side. Getting to show off your work was always so rewarding, but just knowing Leon was handling everything so well was a feeling you'll truly never forget.

He was happy. That's all you ever wanted for him. The man has truly earned his portrait in that agent hall of fame.

The portrait was soon brought down to the aforementioned hall to be hung up and displayed for good, a few small groups trailing down to get a better look at it. Chris was the noisiest about it, telling Leon it looked like it belonged above a grand fireplace, to which said man agreed with.

Chris, Claire, Jill, and their respective families stared at it for quite some time alongside Leon and you. They all chatted while Leon stared quietly, taking in every little fine detail you'd added. You changed his position some, and did he really smile at you like that? He really did look lovestruck. Of course only he could tell that. Hopefully.

He surprised himself with how okay he felt after seeing the painting. You warned him multiple times that it would most likely be overwhelming and emotional, and while it was, it wasn't in a bad way. The most compelling thought he had right now was to just sweep you off your feet and smother you with love.

Leon asked one of the guards to take a picture of him with everyone, including you, in front of his portrait. Then, just a picture of you and him standing in front of it, easily becoming the background on his phone.

The party went on for only an hour or so more before people started to trickle out. You and Leon were some of the first to leave, saying all your thanks and goodbye's with hugs and handshakes.

The moment the two of you walked into your apartment he practically pounced on you before the door had shut, large hands gripping tight on your hips as he sloppily made out with you. He just had to show his gratitude for all your hard work.

Your lips tasted so sweet and your soft little moans were driving him wild, he couldn't help the groan that rumbled from his chest. Full blown sex had been held off by you, not wanting to rush him into anything while you helped him manage his problems. Honestly, he was glad you'd held off on him, because now that he was feeling like his own person again, it made waiting all the more fulfilling.

Leon hoisted you up into his arms after you'd kicked your heels off, holding onto the back of your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling against his lips as he carefully navigated around the short hallway and into the bedroom.

You looked so good splayed out on the bed for him, that beautiful dress you chose was insanely flattering on you. It had to go though, so after yanking off his jacket he made quick work of your dress, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before pulling it up and over your head. Your bra and panties didn't last either. He'd only gotten to see you naked a couple times before, but god, he'll never get tired of seeing you this way, acting all shy like you weren't his favorite view.

Leon was so eager to get his hands on you that he neglected to take off his suit, opting instead to hover over you and bury his face into your neck. He wasn't a good artist, but he loved to cover your neck in shades of red and purple like you were his own little painting, akin to leaving his signature all over you.

He only pulled away once you tugged on his hair, listening to your begs and pleas for him to get his clothes off. As much as he wanted to prolong this night and tease you, he couldn't hold himself back. He needed to feel your soft skin against his.

"So perfect." Leon mumbled against your skin, licking and kissing his way up your stomach and to your breasts after practically ripping off his clothes. His hands found their way back to your hips, pressing them firm against the bed to keep you from squirming away as he nipped at one of your nipples, pulling it into his mouth.

He moaned as he sucked and circled his tongue around your nipple, his eyes falling closed. The other couldn't stay neglected, so he brought one hand up to pinch and tug at your other nipple, sighing when he felt your body press against his as you arched at the sensation. He loved when your moans would pitch, so cute.

His cock was pressed against the inside of your thigh, rutting against it when you would tug at his hair. Once he decided your nipples had enough attention, he sat up and grabbed the backs of your knees to place around his waist. The new position offered Leon the perfect opportunity to drag his leaking cock through your folds, pressing it down with his thumb so the tip would nudge your clit with every slow thrust forward.

You were so wet, so delicate. He could've fucked you right then, slid right into that juicy little pussy, but he needed to take care of you first. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Reluctantly, the man pulled his dick away from you, letting out a poorly concealed whine at the loss. He ran his hands up your thighs before moving one hand so he could circle your clit with his thumb, the other hand back on your hip to keep you steady.

"L-eon~!" You brokenly moaned out, pleading to him with your watery eyes. You needed more; his fingers, his cock, anything. He couldn't say no to that, stopping his assault on your clit to drag his middle and ring finger through your drenched folds to wet them properly. He brought your right leg to sit over his shoulder, hand gripping the top of your thigh as he leaned forward, studying your face closely as he gently teased the outside of your slit with his middle finger.

He moaned with you as he slid his finger in, keeping his eyes trained on you as he started to tentatively thrust his finger in and out. "Yeah?" Leon whispered, licking his lips as you barely managed to nod. "Yeeeaah, there's my girl..." The rumble in his voice was music to your ears.

His ring finger was soon slid in next to his middle finger, switching between scissoring you and making a partial 'come here' motion with them. After only a couple minutes you were leaking all over his hand and the bed, the wet sounds of your pussy mixed with your moans making his cock jerk and drip with precum. Leon clenched his teeth as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, immediately bringing them to his mouth to suck off your juices. He let out an audible sigh after swallowing, repositioning his dick to slide through your folds a couple more times before nudging your hole with the tip.

"Look at me, baby..." Leon's hushed demand brought you to open your eyes, if only half way. He made eye contact with you before leaning forward further to kiss you, all the while finally pushing into you. He soaked in your gasp, his eyebrows furrowing as you tensed up. "Relax.. let me in~..."

"It's only me.." He panted, tilting his head to kiss the corner of your mouth as your eyes shut again. "It's only me, baby..." he repeated this a few more times as he eased his cock inside of you, the stretch only stinging for a moment before it turned to pleasure. He filled you perfectly, you could feel every bit of him, especially with his right hand adding a bit of pressure to your stomach.

Leon sat still for a minute to give you time to adjust, taking the way you moved your hips as a sign to move. He pulled out, all the way to the tip, before slowly thrusting back in. He managed to choke out a quiet "Fuck-.." when you clenched around him. "Taking me so well.. such a big girl~.."

He always knew just how to talk to you, making sure to take his time buttering you up. You were putty in his hands, and between his words and the feeling of him reaching so deep inside of you, you could barely think.

It didn't take long for him to start to lose his composure, the sound of wet skin slapping together filling the room as his thrusts intensified. "All mine. All for me." The grip he had on your thigh was sure to leave a bruise, but that was the last thing on your mind.

The hand he had pressing on your stomach moved further down so he could circle your clit with his thumb again, jaw tight as he looked from your blissed out expression to where his hand was playing with you. "Oh fuck! That's it!" Leon growled, eyes glued to your cunt as he plunged in and out of it. "Cream this dick, mamas~... Cum on my cock so I can fill this pretty pussy up.."

The way you gasped and moaned when you came was enough to warrant a noise complaint, but screw your neighbors. You needed this just as much Leon did.

"Oohhh fuck yeah.. Milk me, baby~... shit-" Leon's thrusts stuttered to a stop while pressed flush against you, abs flexing as he pumped ropes of cum into you. Once you managed to open your eyes, all you could do was stare at the man, flushed pink and sweaty, sitting between your legs. Both of you moaned in tandem as he pulled out, Leon groaning to himself as he watched his cum drip from your pussy. Truly a work of art meant for his eyes only.

He leaned over you again to plant a quick kiss on your lips, chuckling when he felt you smile. "Let me go grab something to clean you up, okay?" You could only nod in response, reaching your hand up to caress the side of his face before he stood up from the bed. He walked across the hall into the bathroom, wetting a soft rag with warm water before making his way back over to you.

Leon made sure to be gentle when cleaning you, the warmth from the rag soothing your tender skin. You were able to sit up on your elbows and watch him, using his gentle touches as a way to calm your still racing heart.

After wiping himself off with the rag, he tossed it over in the general direction of your laundry basket. It was a problem for later. Right now, he wanted lay back on the bed and pull you up so you could lay on top of him. Along with just how nice it felt to hold you, he loved the weight of you on him. So that's what he did, pulling you onto him after laying on the bed, running his fingers though your hair on the back of your head.

"Leon." You muttered against his collarbone. His eyebrows raised, yet his eyes were closed. "Mm?" His right eye peaked open when he felt you giggle. "What?"

"I love you." His fingers paused their ministrations at your words. You lifted your head up to look at him, growing worried with his shocked expression. "Sorry, is that too-" you choked on your words, stopped mid-sentence by Leon's arms suddenly squeezing the breath out of you with a very tight hug. He pulled you up just a little further so he could smush his lips against yours.

"I love you too!" He breathed out excitedly. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to tell you!" You tapped his arm and he immediately relaxed his grip, mumbling a small, "Sorry, my bad.." when you took in a deep breath.

"You're adorable, Leon." You shook your head with a smile, brushing the hair from his face to give him a much gentler kiss before settling you head back against his chest with a quiet sigh.

Leon was still a tough man, but you made him soft. Only ever soft for you.

Side note: I totally forgot to add in the pussy eating i am so sorry. i thought i did but it was literally just a thought that never manifested 😭

tags!: @greywardensaywhat @xkittiecatx @httpsuguru @httpsuguru @k-fallingstar @lysa1201 @bobastayhigh @pocketstoriesstore @agent-dessis-posts @klee-iii @missjoenowhere @mi-zer-y @bigtiddiesimp @finsternisle @sweets3rial @sodacolablast (there's a few of you that tumblr wouldn't let me tag for some reason)

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deny-the-issue · 4 months ago

Text

Love Thy Nature

Summary: Set in the "Baldur's Gate 3" epic tale, you struggle with ongoing body image issues while pining after Halsin, hoping to earn a special place in his heart.

Thank you so much to my lovely beta readers @juniper-sunny and @sirenofzaun <3

AO3 link

link to divider

Thank you everyone for the overwhelming amount of interest in this fic! I hope you all enjoy <3

[MDNI] [Halsin x fat!Reader] [no mention of gender pronouns] [reader has vulva/breasts] [body image issues] [whatever height you are, Halsin is taller] [whatever weight you are, Halsin can lift you] [smut] [fluff] [angst] [happy ending] [oral sex] [vaginal sex] [teasing] [5580 words]

Chaos. Those first few hours were absolute chaos. In Baldur’s Gate shopping for vegetables one moment, infested with a slimy tadpole the next. At least you aren’t alone.

Even if they intimidate you.

You all have a common goal, and you wear this safety like a blanket. With companions like these, maybe you’ll have a chance to live. If you don’t get caught in between Shadowheart and Lae’zel, that is.

Stomach rumbling, feet aching, thighs raw, the nights end with you silently crying yourself to sleep. You are distinctly unsuited for this life. The others say nothing, but you feel like you’re letting them down when you lag behind them during the day’s journey. You simply cannot keep up with Karlach and Lae’zel’s pace, and with the dismal amount of food for dinner, you’re starving.

You’re not the only hungry one, but you are the only one that eats away from the fire, in solitude. Even in the city you preferred to eat alone. Judging eyes haunt your every bite, but you know the shame comes from within. You know you have no right to complain about being hungry when you have the most weight to lose.

So you suffer in silence.

Your armor consists of ill-fitting cloth and leather which you have to repair frequently. The cloth is thin and your thighs can rub it away to nothing within a single, travel-heavy day. The others have found armor that suits them quite well, and you’re happy for them. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t envious of the ease at which they can find things that fit.

It’s hard not to dwell on your size. How it would be easier to find armor if you were skinnier. How much easier it would be to keep up. How much more confident you would be.

You see your travel companions flirt and cast lewd looks at each other. It lightens the heart to see, yet stirs a deep yearning within that has been your constant bane over the years. To love is something you have known many times, but to be loved is another story entirely. Truly loved for everything you are, inside and out. It seems impossible to behold when you cannot fathom loving yourself in that way.

Maybe one of them would have given you a chance, if only you had the confidence to try.

As the days go on, you learn more about each other, some willingly and others forced. Just when you think no one else is hiding something, another secret arises. Every single one of them has enough problems without the threat of becoming illithid, and you start to see the people underneath the mask of intimidation you assigned to them.

Despite your best efforts to keep your distance, they start to grow on you. Their troubles become yours, and a warm feeling of belonging takes root in your chest.

The grove is a delightful little community. Their harmony with nature is beautiful, your curious eyes take in every part and crevice.

Maybe too curious, since you had a near scrape with the guards due to the little shit, Mol. She’s too smart for her own good–trouble will surely follow her wherever she goes.

Just as it does you.

Just as it does him, too, apparently. Breaking a bear out of a dungeon is a first for you, but watching that bear transform into the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen becomes a keystone memory.

Already you are filled with conflicted feelings, more thankful everyday this horrible thing happened to you because it brought you to them. All of them brilliant, all of them flawed, and all incredibly beautiful.

You cling to the hope of his companionship as you prepare to protect the grove. Halsin’s knowledge instills fear in your bones, more defined than it was before. Now you have an idea of what you’re up against, and it’s all much bigger than you can fathom. Getting to know him personally casts away the worrisome thoughts; his words a honey-sweet distraction to the storm clouds gathering overhead.

You leave his company with a smile straining your face, but it doesn’t take long for the bite of loneliness to nip at your heels. Halsin’s answer about lovers echoes through your mind, a deep spiral into well-trodden waters.

“Right now? I bed down alone, I’m afraid. Perhaps once I talk less of curses and parasites, my fortunes will improve.”

How foolish of you to think he might warm to you. You’re sure his fortunes will improve, only with someone else. Someone more deserving of him.

These depressing thoughts do not stop you from befriending him. Quite the opposite, in fact. By casting aside your hopes for romantic love, you feel as though you can finally start to be yourself in camp.

And you’re surprised to find they like you. Your spirit and sense of humor return to you in troves–making some poor sod kneel for Lae’zel has everyone laughing at camp that night.

Yet you still make off alone with your bowl of stew when dinner is served, until a large obstacle blocks your path.

“I do not pretend to know why you dine alone, but you are most welcome to join us.” Halsin smiles kindly.

“I know, it’s ok. Thank you, though,” you try to dismiss him, but he doubles down.

“Do you not find our company agreeable?”

“No! I mean, yes? You’re lovely–you’re all lovely,”you stammer, heat rising to your face.

“Good, then you’ll have no problem joining us,” Halsin’s eyes sparkle with amusement, no doubt from watching your mind implode.

The prospect shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is, yet you cannot help but feel extremely uncomfortable.

You beat down the slight panic and return Halsin’s smile, unwilling to argue your case further. What would you even say? Laying your insecurities bare to a man you just met is not on your agenda for the night.

His large hand touches your shoulder as he makes his way to the fire, confident you’ll join him. So warm and rough with callouses–the contact lasted but a moment but you can feel it still, like an invisible badge of affection.

“Come on, Soldier, grab a stump! I already picked the slugs off for you.” Karlach laughs at your grimace.

“Thanks,” you walk over to the offered seat. “I’ve had enough slimy things for a lifetime.”

A chorus of agreement and various stages of grief crosses the face of each companion as you join them around the fire, a part of the pack for once. As much as you begrudge Halsin for pulling you out of your comfort zone, you never spend another night eating alone, and your heart is all the fuller for it.

The battle for the grove was hard won, and the celebration that followed was a well-needed respite for everyone. Surrounded by friends, plenty of food, and drink, you felt more alive than you had since it all began. Whatever shame you were harboring faded away with the alcohol settling into your rosy cheeks, and you sought out the man you’ve been pining for.

Weeks of hard living have left you as lightweight as Halsin claims to be, but the confidence to mingle in his company is a welcome boon. Oh, to see him tipsy–better still if you are the first person he sees. Is he handsy in his affections, or reserved, you wonder?

But what does he mean by calling you resourceful?

You’ll have to ponder its meaning after some sobering sleep. Nothing could sway your mood tonight. He may have turned you down, but he was surely flirting with you. Even with the short time you’ve known him, you know he is not the kind to lead anyone on.

Enjoyable. A night with you would be enjoyable; the thought has you grinning for the rest of the celebration, and biting your lip later, when you’re alone in your tent with roaming, lusty hands.

You’re able to find suitable food, but with life’s ever-increasing hardships, it continues to take a toll on your body. Hiking is not as hard as it once was, though, and you are thankful for it. With a body such as yours, it would take a considerable amount of time before you’d be deemed ‘thin’, but the loss of weight is undeniable.

Your clothes are loose, for one, and the little armor you have shifts uncomfortably, always needing adjusting. The others have started noticing as well.

Karlach gave you a, “Lookin’ good, soldier!” the other night and you never wished to cast an invisibility spell so much as in that moment.

This slightly-slimmer body should make you happy, but the success is tainted in your mind. It’s not as if you chose to lose weight, to starve, to walk endlessly every damned day. What happens when– if-- you can live a normal life after this? The same mistakes will surely be made as before, and you’ll go right back to the size you so hate. No lesson has been learned here, not in regards to food.

Even if you do somehow lose all this weight, you still will not be pleased with yourself. Stretch marks and loose skin, you could never look the way you want to.

The frustration grinds your spirit down, but no one notices. Hells, you hardly notice. The Shadowlands dampen the mood of everyone, infecting the camp even without touching it.

Fighting has never been easy for you, and you’ve managed to hold your ground so far. But every person’s luck runs out sometime, you suppose. One awkward move and you get a knife in your side. The armor should have protected you–would have–if only it fit you better.

Halsin gathers you in his arms, carrying you despite your weight. A mad rush back to the Last Light inn saves your life. As you’re placed in a healing sleep, you hear echoes of Halsin’s soothing voice. You can never make out the words, but they calm your turbulent mind, keeping the nightmares at bay.

When you wake, you are mostly healed. The skin is healed, though a scar remains, and the pain is manageable while lying still in bed. Halsin greets you with warmth and a small amount of haste.

It seems, while you slept, Halsin talked to both a tailor and a leather-worker on your behalf. What is more surprising is the light scolding you receive.

“You should have spoken up, we cannot afford such a loss in these dire times.”

“And we can afford this?” You doubt, knowing how much new, custom armor costs.

One stern look from Halsin, and you concede.

Everyone pooled their gold together to buy you fitted clothing and armor, a gesture that means the world to you. What have you done to deserve such kind friends? Just as you took on their troubles, they’re taking on yours without a second thought.

There is one part of their gesture that gives you pause. They need your measurements, and you need to stand for it. With abdomen muscles still healing, you require Halsin’s help to get out of bed, leaning heavily against him.

So close to him, you breathe in his scent, take in his warmth, and relish the contact. It’s almost enough to distract you from the embarrassment of having a stranger shimmy a measuring tape around your body. You hide your discomfort as best you can, but Halsin notices.

He always does.

He must have read it as pain, because he hastens the person along so you can lay down and rest again. Another unsaid deed that shows his care for you, soothing the stinging humiliation.

“Let me call the healers over, I am sorry for disturbing your rest.”

You grab his hand, stilling his movements. “Wait, please.”

“What troubles you, friend?”

You shake your head. “Thank you. For carrying me back and for the clothing. Words cannot describe how grateful I am.”

Halsin takes your hand in his gently, “This fight would not be the same without you by my side.”

You blink away a rogue tear as Halsin brings forth a healer, and drift into a deep, healing sleep with a smile on your face.

When you wake, you’re fully restored, and your new armor and clothes are atop the bedside table. The sight should fill you with excitement, but all you feel is dread.

What if they don’t fit you? What if they’re too small?

Retreating to a corner with a privacy curtain, you hesitantly try them on, thankful that your party isn’t here. To your surprise and great relief, they all fit–as they say–like a glove. The leather armor comes with a learning curve with all the straps and strings, but after a few mistakes, you figure it out.

It’s genius, really. With overlapping leather and lacing on the side, up the arms, and down your legs, its size is fully adjustable. Up to a point, of course, but extremely useful for the days to come. You’ll probably lose more weight as the journey is far from over, and now you have armor that can account for size changes in either direction!

You choke back tears of happiness, never once having known the feel of well-fitting clothes until now. Everything has been uncomfortable in some way or another, always with minor inconveniences, and never once did they look good.

In these clothes, it doesn’t matter how you look. You feel good in them, and for once in your life, that is all that matters. A burden has been lifted from your shoulders whose weight you never noticed before now.

Could you truly be comfortable within this body of yours?

Later, when they all come back to the inn after adventuring, the party makes you spin for them so they can get a good look at your new attire, and although shy, your smile is brighter than it has ever been.

Saving Thaniel is no easy task, and you probably have a few more gray hairs after that battle. With Halsin’s life at stake if you fail, you fight tooth and nail to protect the portal.

Even though it is not enough to lift the curse, Halsin’s eyes soften whenever he looks upon you, and that is all the reward you need.

Your love does not end with Halsin; each party member has wormed their way into your heart. So when Shadowheart embarks on her quest with you at her side, you trust her to make the right choice.

Dame Aylin is truly something to behold. The daughter of a goddess, and a god in her own right. To be reunited with her love after so many years is a love story of the ages. You’re lucky to bear witness to it, although it tugs at the heartstrings.

The longing for a love such as theirs does not linger on your mind, not with the battle for Moonrise Towers looming overhead.

Is this the end? Will you be free to live your life once more? The end does not feel as near as you are led to believe. Not all of the pieces fit together yet, and the unknown scares you.

As you suspected, Ketheric Thorm was just one head of the hydra. There is much more to be done, and the journey ahead weighs heavily on your shoulders. You try to focus on your triumphs; the Shadowcurse is lifted, the land can begin to heal, and Halsin promises to remain by your side.

A heart full of joy can only do so much when you’re running on fumes, requiring a warm bed and a few days rest. Your friends help distract you from the wear and tear of the past few weeks, always bickering about this or that. Usually you stay out of it, but Halsin has other plans on the journey to Wyrm’s Crossing, it seems.

Freeing Thaniel, and moreso, the land, has earned you a special place by Halsin’s side. You did not expect that place to come with an honorary nickname.

Two simple words. It, at first, fills you with a sense of kinship, but soon begins to wear on your mind. As much as you love the affection it implies, one of those words hasn’t pertained to you for a long time.

You find him that night at camp, voice hesitant. “Halsin, can I ask you something?”

“What is it, little duck?” He greets you with a pleased smile.

“Well, that’s what I need to talk about. Little duck.”

“Does it not please you?”

“No–it’s not that. It’s just,” you pause, crossing your arms as you take a deep, calming breath. “I’m not little.”

“Are you not?” he inquires with a hint of mirth.

Confused eyes lift to find his hand hovering above your head, a silent judgment of your height.

Your stoic facade breaks with a smile, then with laughter, and you nudge him with your shoulder playfully.

“You got me there,” you surrender, grinning ear to ear.

Halsin laughs with you, but retains a more serious composure. “As much as that pleases me, should I call you by another name?”

“Please don’t,” you answer swiftly, needing no arduous thought to decide.

From then on, anytime he says those two words, it fills you with warmth.

Reuniting with the refugees saved from the Shadowlands brings you joy, but not as much as a real bed and a roof over your head does.

Freshly washed and bathed, you almost forgot what it’s like to be clean. The quest to save the city is as grave as ever, yet all you needed was some self care to feel ready to take on the Elder Brain.

The nights in Elfsong Tavern are anything but quiet, and you feel Halsin’s attention grow with each night, like he’s working up to something.

Maybe it’s just hopeful thinking, but you feel the chemistry between the two of you. Laughter and conversation is always easy with him, and he’s been touching you more.

Nothing serious; grazing your arm, wiping a smudge of dirt off your face, his hand lingering on your shoulder. The contact, although small, brightens your mood, and you begin to yearn for it every time he’s near, even if you still think romance is out of the question.

It’s almost comedic, how wrong you are.

Not a week passes before Halsin confesses his feelings for you; how he yearns to feel your skin against his in a romantic night under the stars. You barely hear his next words over your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

His heart stirs for you, just as yours does for him. He seems so vulnerable, just now. Nervous, just as you would be in his shoes. You feel as though you are seeing a piece of him rarely shown, or perhaps you did not wish to see past the brawn. Your souls are of the same gentle nature, and just a rest away from uniting in bliss.

Fidgeting in your sheets, you try to calm your turbulent mind, but it is hopeless. Each shift calls attention to the throbbing in between your thighs, their thickness both a blessing and a curse. But your mind is still eager to race into dark territory. The night of your dreams is accompanied by your mountain of insecurities.

You’ve been intimate with others before, but that was of a low time where you hid parts of yourself to please others.

There will be no more of that. He will know you. All of you. Even if it means he does not want you after.

With mind set, you find him in the clearing by the lake, his large hand upon the rough bark of a tree in silent communion. When turns to greet you, the relief and excitement in his eyes brightens the world around you both, and instills you with courage.

All thoughts of revealing your most authentic self blow away with the breeze when Halsin relieves himself of his clothes. Standing proudly naked before you, he sweeps you up in his arms, his kiss as passionate and devouring as he promised, with roaming hands settling on your plump rear.

All of your insecurities come back to nag you all at once, and you break away from the kiss. “Wait, please.”

“What is it, my love?”

Crossing your arms, you begin to pace. The movement helps focus your thoughts, and you take a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m fat,” you begin with the simplest statement of your imagined deficiencies. “For most of my life now I’ve been various sizes of fat, and I’m probably always going to be fat. I don’t want to be. I didn’t choose it. I have stretch marks, flabby arms, back fat.”

Your voice begins to shake as tears well in your eyes. “Yes, I’ve shrunk a bit these past few weeks, but it’s not enough! Not nearly enough. Because even if I do lose all this weight,” you pause, feeling the pressure build within–a truth so long known but never said aloud, ready to burst out of your chest whether you will it or not.

“I will still hate myself!” The first sob rips from your throat as the emotional dam is broken, shaking your entire being.

Halsin rushes to you, enveloping you in his embrace, cradling your head to his chest.

“Beauty is not about size, little duck. Variety provides necessary balance in nature, and there is no shame in taking joy from its fruits. Your inner peace is what truly matters.”

Only now it occurs to you that he has also been judged for his size. Maybe not all negative, but that is not to say it did not have an ill-effect on his self-esteem and outward personality.

After you stop shaking, he coaxes you to meet his gaze. Eyes red and puffy, you do as he wishes, taking in every beautiful detail of his face before settling on his eyes, as serene as the lake before you.

“I love you as you are, stretch marks and all.” He strokes your face gently and then takes your hands in his. “Let me show you.”

Halsin guides you to the lake’s edge, and positions himself behind you, leaning both your bodies forward. The view is exquisite, but you know it is not what holds his attention. Cautious eyes follow the ripples of the water, slowly casting down until you see your reflection.

Halsin smiles when you meet his mirrored gaze, wrapping his arms around your waist. The angle is unflattering, to say the least, but you are willing to try this for him. The heat off his bare skin is a comfort, but also a reminder that your clothes are what separates your skin from his.

“If you are comfortable, I’d like you to undress. To look upon yourself as you do, and be comforted in my desire.”

Comfortable is not something that would describe you in this moment, but you feel ready to reveal yourself to him. Closing your eyes, you still your mind to the symphony of the world around you; crickets singing, a light breeze coming off the lake, and Halsin’s steady breathing as he nuzzles his nose into your hair. Heart fluttering in your chest, you take your shirt off with nervous hands.

After helping you discard the fabric, he is instantly upon you, trailing kisses down the side of your face until he’s sucking at your neck. You melt into him, tilting your head to reveal more skin for him to worship with his soft lips.

Rough fingers tickle at your waist with feather-light grazes, you giggle at the feeling and place your hands over his. Lacing your fingers in between his, you move with him as he explores your waist.

Heat rushes to your core as you feel his cock twitch against your back. You grow impatient, moving his hands to hold your breasts. He moans into your neck, pulling you against him while gently squeezing.

“More, please. I need to see all of you,” he pleads breathlessly in your ear, thumbs pulling down the hem of your bra.

You pull away for only a second, the ambient temperature feels so cool compared to your combined heat. Gooseflesh prickles at your arms, and as you discard your bra, you can’t help but admire your form in the water below. Nipples hard from the cold air soon find shelter in Halsin’s large hands, and his heat blankets you in a blissful stupor once again.

Lust pools in your mind, overpowering any insecurities still swirling within. Only thoughts of him remain, and you need no further instruction to take the next step. Your panties cling to your pants as you pull them down. Halsin provides an arm for you to balance while slipping them off, and you come face to face when you toss the unwanted clothing further onto land.

You’d pounce on him, but he quickly turns you around to face the lake again with a playful chuckle.

“Almost, my love. Look how extraordinarily beautiful you are, just as nature intended.”

There you are, indeed. There’s your belly that you’ve loathed, the fat thighs that have been your bane, your double chin that distracts you from your beautiful face. Yet, with him at your back, your perspective begins to change, and you can see this body as yourself instead of some ugly, fat thing.

Halsin trails one hand down your stomach, over your stretch marks, and cups the plush overhang, squishing slightly as he smooths his palm back up your body, feeling the entirety of your curves.

All of your fears dissipate with the irrevocable proof of his attraction digging into your back, and you turn to face him. This time, he allows you, his hands grabbing your ass greedily. You run your hands up his body, relishing the feel of his coarse hair covering his chest and stomach. He moans softly at your touch, but something else starts to happen.

His eyes begin to glow as he backs away from you in haste. The transformation is something you have seen many times, but never did you see the emotion behind it.

There is nothing as flattering as a partner losing themselves so utterly in a shared moment. Changing back just as fast, he flashes you a sheepish grin.

Halsin starts to speak, but your patience is at its limit, and you run up to him, pulling him down for a kiss before he can utter a single word.

Having regained his confidence through your kiss, he leads you back to the tree he was initially at, kneeling at its base. He leads you down to him, laying you down on the softest grass you’ve ever felt. There is a fleeting taste of his passion-full lips as he kisses his way down to your breasts, taking his time to kiss each one before descending further.

Halsin’s lips against your stomach tickle in a touch-starved way, adding coal to the fire raging inside your core. He slips his arms underneath your knees, bending and spreading your legs. Supporting himself on his elbows, he reaches around, parting your lips by pulling your flesh toward your belly button.

The first soft kiss upon your exposed clit has you gasping for air, hands grabbing fistfuls of grass at your side. It was only the calm before the storm; a single taste of honey is not nearly enough to satiate the beast between your thighs, and he shows you no mercy.

Tongue lapping at your cunt from entrance to throbbing bud, Halsin has you squirming under his touch. Just as you think his pleasure is at its peak, he suckles your clit.

Toe curling, back arching, you scream his name as you reach carnal heights you never thought possible.

You whine when he stops, but when you see his swollen cock twitching between his legs, you know exactly what he needs. He lets you push him back onto the grass, helping you straddle him with a steadying hand. Cock nestled perfectly between your folds, you nuzzle his nose with yours before he pulls you into a passionate kiss. The taste of you is intoxicating as you drink in his moans, slide your hips against him, obscenely slick.

Ever hungry for more, you explore his body with your mouth, hips never ceasing their slow but steady rock. Thick, muscled neck, tender for kissing. Pronounced pecks perfect for light, teasing bites. Sensitive nipples ripe for sucking. Veiny arms that your lips could kiss for days. The faded but still visible stretch marks around his shoulders that now hold a special place within your heart, and you kiss each one of them.

You worship him, mind and body just as he does with his burly hands ever present on your lust-driven body. His touch now bruising, he tries to push into you with each thrust, soft moans turning into desperate grunts.

He catches at your entrance, but you tilt your hips so he passes over your clit once again. You shiver at the feeling, and cannot help the laugh that accompanies the bliss.

Teasing Halsin is just so fucking hot.

With an animalistic growl, he rolls you onto your back, having had enough of your shenanigans. Your sounds of glee quickly turn lewd as his cock finally finds purchase, stretching you delightfully with his mighty girth.

Even with a mind lost to passion, he takes your comfort into account, pushing in slowly to let you adjust. His hungry mouth kisses your face, your lips, your jaw, your neck, until your canting, impatient hips break the last thread of his self control.

Burying his nose in your hair, one hand holding your breast, hips pumping, he makes love to you under the stars. You wrap your arms around him, holding onto his back to keep from being pushed away from the force of his hips. Your voices are a sweet, rhythmic chorus to nature as you feel a fluttering grow in your core. Halsin relinquishes his grip on your breast, hooking his hand underneath one of your knees to spread you further.

He reaches new heights within you, and you feel his cock harden more than you thought possible, readying to fill you with the nature’s bounty you’ve been craving. Your hands slip down to his ass, needing all of him inside you.

Your wants ever his desire, he buries his cock inside you and ruts, massaging the bundle of nerves deep within. Your fingers cling to him, leaving red lines down back unintentionally as the chord within finally snaps. Walls fluttering around him before clenching down, the waves of pleasure overtake you both, and he is a helpless passenger in its wake. He says your name like a prayer as his hips stutter in their rhythm.

Cradling him close as you feel his cock pulse, you whisper in his ear, “I love you, Halsin.”

That mystical night under the stars with Halsin was legendary. Its memory, as well as the man himself, helps you through the rest of your quest, picking you up when you are down. All you need to do is close your eyes, and you’re right back in that clearing by the lake with him beside you.

You do not know if you would have gotten through it all without him. By the time you defeat the Netherbrain, you are the thinnest you’ve been since childhood, and also the most sickly. Stronger muscles and better food is not enough in the face of true exhaustion, and it shows in your gaunt face.

The celebration with Halsin that night is sweet and gentle, containing all the relief of a battle hard won. You cannot help the tears that fall from your eyes as you reach your climaxes together.

It all feels like a dream. How could you have made it through all that alive and relatively well? With him at your side? A man as loving as he is large, he still does not impose anything on you. Talking as if there could be a chance you wouldn’t be going with him to resettle Moonrise Towers.

You depart in the morning with nine wagons full of kids of various ages, all without families or homes, and your bear at your side.

The savior of Baldur’s Gate is a bit rich for your liking, but it does give you a certain air of respect when you have to give them time-outs.

Halsin calls them all his ducklings, and it is so very fitting with how they follow him around from dawn till dusk.

When you receive a letter with shaky lettering inviting you to the place where it all began, you’re more than happy to reunite with everyone. The time without doom hanging over your heads has certainly made you both plump and happy. You still struggle with body image issues, but you feel comfortable in your skin more often than not. A battle that is waning in your favor, with once barren fields blooming with slow acceptance.

Your appetite for life has always been large. Giant partner, a heap of kids to call your own, and enough tall tales to last them well into adulthood; you want for nothing in the years to come.

With Halsin you build a loving home–an ending you never thought you deserved.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tag list: @incognitoowl @slowlydecayinginside-blog @freddiemonstar @strawberry-siberian @zorazeppeli

@callgirl-of-cthulhu @leftoverice @mickster-trickster @theidesofpisces @athenakeene

@camelliaandjasmine @otherredsareoutthere @bewitchedbg3 @kelseyxyeslek-blog @angelicsignature

@gloomweed @tolkien-fantasy @whitetxilwxlf @towriteloveontheirarms @uhhh-idk-dude

@ladyjeweler @rintheavatar @loverbug1123 @unreadpoppy @mossthedevouring

@railmeloki @wendy940010 @anexhaustedanomaly @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @tyrannydarling

@creatednoodle @mossy-moggins @whiskeyskin @ouranyaoi @appalachiancowboy99

@juniper-sunny @myheart-mydarling @mollymauksboi @pwney @sensitivesoil1008

@gremlin-dave @cosmicaeons21 @its-jaytothemee @reignydeys @im-eating-rn

@rosekicks @nefolstardust @blueraspberrycola @cpiev @lifechasingdreaming

@the-ashtronaut @gildedlilyvibes @emmybee11 @gh0ulbunny @shyomission

@fandom-star @garbdump @caitlam @wicked-game-black-butler @i-like-duckies

@hollywritin @reduxskullduggerry @thoughts-of-bear @opossumbloom @vixnovacoda

@amorgansgal @avabjorna36 @rodeocl0wn @emoguardian @minimisthios

@thegirlsmorgue @confused--polarity @waterm3i0n @violet-starlings-blog @thunderdownunder

@ashrio20

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gortash-week · 5 months ago

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hello gortash nation. it is i, host of this week @sankttealeaf here! gortash week may "officially" be over but that means nothing when the archduke wants more! (he will not stop until he has more, please i miss my family he's keeping me locked away in wyrms rock prison and is making me dance for his amusement! i cant dance! help please!!)

anyway - despite the event ending, i will be leaving the AO3 collection open until the end of august / early september for those who found the event a little later and want to make something for these prompts. time is a weird soup after all, we don't follow rules here!!

if you've made something and have thought "oh no! its not the day of the prompt anymore - i cant post it" PLEASE share it!! i'm still accepting submissions and i'll still reshare any gortash week work here & tag whichever day its for! i know some people found out about the event as it was happening and if the prompts have inspired you - please share!!! i'd love to see it!!

thank you from the bottom of my heart if you've participated in this event - whether that's making things or simply engaging with the content shared. it means the world to me that people found the prompts interesting enough to take time out of their day to make something for it. i had no idea this event would be as big as it's become and i'm so so so impressed with the wide variety of work made and shared!! everyone is so talented and i cant wait to see what other things you all make and write <3

as for the future? well, i'd love to run more events like this! i've mentioned before about a hypothetical "gort month" that would include two prompts per week, 8(ish) prompts in total. that way there's a loooot more time to work on things & if people wish to join halfway through it's a lot less pressure to do so! my aim for running events is to keep them as stress & pressure free as possible because theyre here to be fun! i'm also open to comments & ideas & feedback on how you (yes, you!) found this event so if i do end up running something else in the future it can be better and better! pls feel free to shoot me as ask (anon or not it's fine! be respectful though, that's all i ask<3) if you have any post-event comments you want to air and i'll respond!!

again, if i've missed any of your work you've posted, please send it my way! no message required, just drop me the link & i'll share it asap!! thank you to those who have done that already!! i easily miss things and i dont want anyone to feel like im purposefully leaving them out!!

thank you again for making this week so enjoyable! ive had such a blast hosting it and if i see any other events i'll be sure to reblog them here (for those interested: i've seen a wyllmancer week, a galemancer week (both on twitter), and a lae'zel week on here that i can't seem to find the post for to link to :( )

again - super open to comments and feedback or even if you just want to say hi! i'm way more active on my main blog if you're interested in hanging out there :3

thank u so much for this week, it's been so much fun <3 <3

#gortash week #gortashweek #enver gortash #lord gortash #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #thank u all again!!!!#this has been so much fun!#im so happy to be part of this community!!

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lawomi · 6 months ago

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The Moment Law Starts to See you Differently.

One of @grandline-fics prompts.

LinkTree for Twitter, Ao3, ext.

Summary: The artist of the Heart Pirates is invited to discuss their journal detailing their adventures by their very own Captain.

CW: gn!pronouns, SFW, Fluff, Canon compliant

You are a Heart Pirate. You had joined the notorious crew lead by the Surgeon of Death long ago, sometime after the very start of Trafalgar Law’s journey. He was 18 when you had both met and now you were sailing away from Wanokuni, a place that left your captain ranked on par with the now Yonko: Monkey D. Luffy. It had been an incredible journey so far, one beyond the simple words in your journal.

You sit scribbling in your journal within the library of the Polar Tang. It was small, but it was built alongside one of the Tang’s large portholes, allowing you to admire the vast blue of the sea or the reefs the Tang would make use for cover. A knock came from the door, bringing you out of your concentration.

In came Trafalgar Law, a man dear to you whom you wrote about often… Quite often. You close your journal a bit too hastily, standing straight and saluting your captain. He acknowledges your presence with a nod, dismissing your salute and watches as you sit back down, shyly peeling your journal open again, continuing your scrawling.

Law stands before his collection of books, the ones he does not keep in his office – most often outdated ones or ones he’d already studied several times over – and pulled out a specific one, opening it to the glossary. You can’t help but stare at his back, as was common for you, instead of write. Noticing the sound of lead on paper ceasing, Law turns his head towards you.

“Is everything alright, Y/N-ya?”

Casually, you smile and close your journal again, “I-It’s nothing, Captain. How are your wounds?”

Law absentmindedly adjusts his posture, as though testing his body. “I’m doing rather well. I still need time, of course. So do you. I’m happy to see my crew resting now.” He smiled softly at you, causing your heart to leap into your throat.

“That’s wonderful to hear, Captain.”

You respected this man so deeply, you had romantic feelings for him for years, but you knew those emotions would only distract him from his dreams. Not to mention, he never expressed interest in you. At least, nothing you could pick up on. Despite his intimidating demeanor he was rather affectionate with not only Bepo, but his other crewmates, too. He wasn’t uncomfortable with their outbursts of love, although he kept to himself otherwise. He was the same with you. You’d pat him on the back or give him a high five. Sometimes, usually while drinking, you would wrap your arm around his waist in a friendly embrace.

When you had developed feelings for him, you had made it a habit to deliver his coffee when he needed it. Bepo would always deliver his tea to help him relax, but you would deliver the snacks alongside him as Bepo was prone to eating them himself. The bond the Heart Pirates had with their captain was deep and you were no different to him than they were.

Law’s black shoes clacked along the Tang’s metal floor as he approached you, leaving comfortable space between the two of you on the library’s couch. He continued skimming his book which appeared to be a book on islands. He was likely trying to find details on Winner island in advance to reaching it. You beam in his direction, admiring his focused, pouting profile, then return to your writing.

A few minutes pass and you jump at the fact Law had leaned over to watch you write. You flush furiously, closing the journal impulsively, and stare at him. He chuckled at your response.

“Sorry, curiosity got the better of me. You’ve had that journal a long time, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you what you’ve been working on all this time.”

“Well,” you try to maintain a clear voice, confident tone. “I’ve been documenting my journey. Of course, it’s all my perspective so it isn’t too exciting.”

“Now, now, I’ll be the judge of that,” Law smirked a sly smirk, playfully lifting a hand as though he’d snatch the journal from you. You hug it to your chest tightly, “No!”

His laughter filled your ears, your face burned due to both the sound and the embarrassment. “Why don’t you tell me what you wrote; show me whatever you want to show me. I wouldn’t mind listening.” Law had a playful but affectionate gleam in his eye, one that told you he meant what he said.

You clear your throat and flip through the pages, showing Law one of your first drawings in the journal. It was of the Polar Tang. Law’s keen eyes could see as you flipped that there were portraits as well—namely of him. For now, he kept quiet.

“That’s outstanding,” he remarked, wide eyed as he looked over the drawing. “I know you’ve already done plenty of art around the sub, but this is so detailed. You even labeled it. Incredible. It reminds me of the paintings you do sometimes, but only in pencil!”

Your blush deepens, you slightly lift the journal as though you would close it, shy he was staring so intently. “Th-thank you, Captain,” you manage a warm smile.

“Show me more?” He offered, returning your expression.

Thus you begin the longwinded explanation. From the start of your journey where he’d met you on your home island on the day of an art festival and was so impressed, he invited you aboard. He had hopes in your ability to sew and had you help design and embroider many of the custom outfits he and the others wore. You tell him how proud you are to be a Heart Pirate, eyes shining and arms animated as you explain.

Law can’t help but mimic your smiles and chime in now and again as you spoke. A trend slowly became apparent to him as you delve into the journey further and further. You remembered many things, particularly about him, thanks to writing it down. When you flipped the book to show him drawings, he noticed small doodles of primarily himself as you speedily sifted through pages. He couldn’t help but feel flattered, albeit a tad curious as to why you drew him so much.

The bigger drawings you showed him were of Penguin & Shachi, too. Bepo showed up especially often. Surprise washed over him as you show him a drawing of you hugging him in farewell along with the crew as he headed for Punk Hazard. He swallowed dryly. He didn’t want to show weakness nor regret. He protected his crew by leaving them behind. Still, this drawing had feeling in every brush stroke, in every detail, it made his heart heavy.

Then came the details of your and the crew’s journey without him. He laughed at your antics together and was thankful to hear you had all worked together flawlessly to reach Zou. You told him how much you loved Zou, his eyes widening slightly at the shine in your eyes. The love seeping from you to have come to know the minks, but the absolute joy and tears that flowed out of you as you explained his return took him aback. He gazed at you, brows furrowing and frowning slightly in concentration as your eyes were averted as you spoke. Something about you had always been special to him, but now…

As your explanation came to a close, your journal reaching Wano which was still being filled out, you lean against him in an affectionate nuzzle. “Thank you for listening, Captain.” You were surprised to be met by Law’s tight shoulder, his body having tensed when you touched it. “Oh no,” you remark, gently petting where you’d leaned in. “Did I hurt something?”

Law was hiding under his hat, trying to disguise a blush that had bloomed from ear to ear. “You’re fine,” he said, clearing his throat. Once he recovered, he looked up at you again with intense, loving eyes. “I appreciate you. You are an important part of my crew. I’m happy to have let you join us, so – um – thank you.”

Red now yourself you giggle and nod, standing from where you sat. “I’m going to help the others for lunch. Thank you again, Captain.”

Law nodded, back to his usual stoic expression, watching you intently as you walked away. There was something about you he hadn’t realized affected him so deeply. He found himself recalling how much be loved working on uniforms with you, how much he missed you in particular throughout his journey. Something had clicked during this story you told, something he felt he may need to discuss, one day…

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law one piece #law fanfiction #my fanfics #prompts #trafalgar d water law #long post

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burningcheese-merchant · 2 months ago

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Little thank-you post!

I have over 100 followers now! Don't really know why any of you are here, I am not funny nor am I interesting, nor do I actually post anything cool lol. But regardless, I'm really grateful for you guys and for your support! (As well as all the anons that reach out to me! Thank you to you all, as well! I enjoy when people actually talk to me, nobody wants to feel like they're rambling into a void lol)

As a sort of mediocre, I'm sorry thank-you, I want to outline what I've got in store for you all next:

Gonna release the BurningCheese playlist soon, it's over 30 songs long now lol. I want you all to jam with me. Rock out to the BurningCheese vibe. (And send me more song recommendations if you want, a lot of what I have now is thanks to homies making suggestions)

PART 2 OF "Mine Forever More" IS COMING VERY SOON! Now that I've played through episode 6 (and had a massive meltdown because BURNINGCHEESE IS CANON OMG /jk), I know what I want to do for the story now. Expect it to be posted within the next day or two! (And also look forward to more short stories, I have a lot planned)

Remember those BurningCheese fankids I've mentioned more than once before? Get excited, you're gonna see and hear about them again soon 👀👀👀

I've gotten asks about my "Reformed Beasts AU" that I've been tinkering with. I promise there will be a masterpost on the subject in the future. I kind of want to iron out my thoughts on the Beasts in general first, and how I headcanon their corruptions (like that "a thought about Burning Spice" post I made). Will probably write about Shadow Milk next, or maybe Silent Salt (I've made up a whole ass character for this guy that I've gotten attached to already lol)

I know I have a bunch of asks in my inbox I still need to answer. I'm sorry for the delay, I promise I will get to you all. I inhabit the real world and have real-world responsibilities like everyone else, unfortunately haha

Gonna remind you all again that my AO3 username is sleeping_mouse_1011, because people have asked me that, too. Do be careful, a lot of my works are NSFW to some degree (that's where I indulge in Yandere Spice lol). I encourage minors to stay here and enjoy my SFW stories instead.

Got a bunch of meme edits to make now, hope those make you laugh. I gotta cope with having no artistic talent somehow

I have thoughts and headcanons I'd love to share about other characters and ships besides Burning Simp and Pretty Cheese Lady lol. I'm actually NOT entirely insane, I am capable of rational discussion about things other than BurningCheese, I swear

Thanks again to everyone who takes the time to rifle through my nonsense posts and read my stories. It really means a lot to me that my works bring people joy. I know I'm still just some nobody on here, but even so. I hope I somehow manage to put a smile on your face. Even if it's more at my own expense than anything else.

That's all from me for now. Merchant out. Later, haters

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #burningcheese #goldenspice #burning spice cookie #golden cheese cookie #shadow milk cookie #silent salt cookie #merchant shorts

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delirious-donna · 5 months ago

Text

Sweet As A Grape [Part Three]

“No,” he answered, guessing your question. “Whilst the thrill of the hunt can be exhilarating, fear alters the taste and I prefer my blood on the sweet side.”

story summary: Levi isn’t hungry, or so that’s what he claims. A vampire must drink to survive, and his sire refuses to let the man give up without trying every trick up his sleeve. When a new ‘donor’ appears, one who is different from all the rest, will Levi be able to keep resisting?

pairing: Levi Ackerman (vampire) x female reader (human)

warnings: we're starting to cook with a little gas in this chapter, it stays mostly SFW with heavy NSFW implied, reader ends the chapter up close and very personal with Mr Ackerman, mentions of suicide (vampire), a very brief allusion to the argument regarding a person's right to choose to die (the two prev tags are heavy but these are not discussed in depth at this point in the story - this is a future heads up), mention of parental loss, lots of chat regarding blood drinking and the methods used, teasing of fear play, vampire lore

Part Two | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Part Four

Levi appeared more composed than the last time you saw him.

His dark hair was slicked back, and he clasped his hands behind his back whilst staring out the window displaying the majesty of the sprawling gardens below. For a moment, you admired his posture; spine straight and proud, chest slightly forward and his feet spread in what reminded you of a very militaristic stance.

He really was a handsome man, even when a scowl wrinkled his features and hardened those mesmerising grey eyes. A stiff white dress shirt was tucked into neat black trousers. With the top two buttons undone and no tie in sight, the outfit gave him the appearance of a businessman who had not long clocked off for the day.

It made you wonder what it might be like to have known him in a more traditional sense. Perhaps having met him in a bar frequented by office workers and finding the nerve to strike up a conversation after many weeks of admiring him from a safe distance. You gave a small shake of your head at how absurd the idea was. For how little you knew of Levi, socialising in loud overpopulated bars did not seem something he would have ever enjoyed.

“Something wrong?” Levi asked, tilting his head towards where you stood by the door. He gave you a look that made you feel like he already knew what you were thinking, and it only further cemented how right your train of thought was.

With a flush rushing across your cheeks, you moved further inside and glanced around. “No, of course not. What makes you say that?”

“Your heart rate spiked.”

“Oh… well, it’s hard to argue with a human lie detector,” you quipped back.

“Am I?”

You frowned in puzzlement. “Are you what?”

Levi finally turned fully to face you, his eyes followed your every step and focused on how your fingertips trailed the soft leather of the oxblood couch. “Am I human?”

“… I suppose the answer is both yes and no,” you mused, biting your lip at the weighty question. An ethical tête-à-tête was not what you had assumed would be on the agenda for this evening, but Levi had surprised you at every turn up ‘til now that to expect the unsuspected was becoming the norm.

“Unless I have my facts entirely wrong, all vampires were human once so I would still believe you to be human to a certain degree. Although I know it would be pretty dumb of me to think of you as only that. The world has been led to believe that being turned doesn’t change a person’s inherent personality, but I guess that could be lies told to soothe the nerves of us, mere humans.”

His lips twitched, a smile almost rising before he schooled his features back to neutrality. You still took it as a small victory.

“Interesting,” he replied mildly. His hand stretched out, perfectly pale with raised blue veins leading to knuckles that appeared rougher than you anticipated. It gave the allusion of someone who had used his fists a lot in his life, and again, you wondered about this man and who he really was. “Shall we sit?”

Erwin had insisted that the arranged date—although Levi was not keen on the term—would take place under his roof, another fact that grated at Levi’s nerves. The reasoning was sound given what had happened in the brief time you had spent with the man so far, and whilst he had wished to refuse the circumstances foisted on him, it made more sense for this to be a concession he conceded to.

The billiards room had become more of a gentleman’s clubroom over the last several decades, far more accustomed to informal meetings and underhanded deals than simple games of snooker. A plush leather couch centred the room with two matching armchairs positioned at either end. The actual billiards table was more towards the far away side of the room, handily near the well-stocked liquor cabinet and expensive cigar humidor, the latter leaving the remnants of tobacco lingering in the air and soaked into the walls.

If he concentrated long enough, Levi could perfectly recall moments spent in here with Erwin and Miche, sometimes Nile and Hange too. Better times… he thought, or at least times when no one was at each other’s throats, not like now.

Seated in the middle of the oxblood couch, you crossed one ankle over the other and waited to see where Levi would choose to sit. There was ample space on either side of you, which is why you had chosen the middle. You didn’t want to trap yourself in a corner so to speak, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

Levi sat in the armchair to your right. His thighs spread wide, and he smoothed a hand down the leg of his trousers as if there were some imaginary wrinkles in what you assumed to be expensive fabric. “Would you like a drink?”

You glanced at the crystal decanter set out on the table in front of you, ironically or not, it seemed three-quarters full of red wine and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was Erwin’s idea of humour.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Levi gave a throaty chuckle that made you think of a standoffish feline finally coming close enough to rub against your leg. “I can assure you it is wine. Feeding blood to a human wouldn’t be wise, especially when everyone seems keen for you to be a match for me.”

“Right. It wouldn’t be much fun if I was to ruin this beautiful carpet by being sick. I’ll stick with the water, keep a clear head and all that.”

Levi inclined his head and stood to pour you a tall glass of iced water. He placed it on a coaster, and you chewed your lip, deciding if you would ask or not. The question weighed heavily on your shoulders, his comment only increasing the worry that was bearing down hard. There seemed to be this almost palpable air of desperation for this union to work… union felt like the wrong word but every time you considered it only transactional also felt wrong—even more so.

“Why is everyone so keen, and by everyone, I mean Mr Smith? He’s quite the character… I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him.”

“You’re aware that I haven’t been drinking. There are a lot of reasons for that, and I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details,” he supplied after more than a second or two of silence. He had zero desire to lay out nearly half a century’s worth of infighting that led him to his current decision and even less desire to discuss his sire. There were other things he wasn’t going to tell you, but those memories remained locked away in the recesses of his mind—dark and full of cobweb-covered skeletons.

“I guess, in a nutshell, I’ve decided I don’t want to continue my existence. I’ve spent long enough wandering this earth and it’s time that I become a part of the soil instead.”

You blinked.

You blinked again.

Surely, you hadn’t heard him right. How could this man who appeared so alive despite his status as undead suddenly be snuffed out of existence? A lump lodged fast in your throat as past discussions and memories started to rush out faster than you could shut them down. This was effectively vampire suicide, and the old arguments about a person’s right to die resurfaced, the scars on your soul not yet healed.

“Hm. I didn’t take you for the selfish type,” you remarked, forcing your hand not to shake as you reached out for your glass of water. The icy liquid slid awkwardly down your throat, barely touching the burning itch.

“The… excuse me?”

“You heard me perfectly, isn’t that one of the traits that vampires boast about? I heard you could hear a pin drop in the next city if you tried.”

Levi visibly bristled. “Oh ho, and that’s all we are to you I suppose. A handful of parlour tricks in human form. Would you like to see me turn into a bat or walk on the ceiling next?”

“Selfish and touchy, noted,” you added, crossing and recrossing your legs whilst irritation prickled at your spine. It was stupid to let this colour your opinion of him, but knowing what you did, it was hard to set aside your experiences and more so your prejudices.

“Why is my decision regarding my existence selfish? In fact, forget it.” Levi threw his back into the armchair, seething at your childish reaction and not realising the irony of his own behaviour. “Even in terms of my mortal years, I’m older than you are. You’re young, you’re naïve, you’re—”

“Furious that I’m sitting here being insulted,” you interrupted with a derisive huff. “Why did you even ask to see me again when you so obviously aren’t interested in my blood or any blood for that matter?”

The song that had risen in volume and pitch from the moment he sensed you descending from the guest quarters upstairs was now a deafening war cry that spoke of retribution. The most beautiful, frenzied bloodbath of fury and might. He didn’t have to love you, nor did he have to like you, but he could not deny his attraction to the life force that flowed hot and fast through your veins. He was interested alright, very interested.

Long hours of the previous night had been spent pouring over textbooks in search of answers and all he had found was vampiric fairytales at best. The myth of a vampire meeting his blood singer and finding comfort from them in a way that was impossible from any other living or immortal creature. There was no mystical bond to speak of, no binding vow of love or even compassion. For some reason that had brought relief to Levi, although when he scratched the surface, he knew it was his inherent dislike of having events dictated to him at the root.

Fate was for the weak and Levi had never been weak.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be starving whilst a five-course meal sits so close?” He asked slowly, calmly, although he felt far from it. “My insides are burning with the desire to pull you from that fucking couch and drape you over my lap whilst I feast from your neck… shit… maybe your breasts.”

He watched intently whilst you wriggled in your seat, shuffling surreptitiously to the side away from him like that would help in the slightest. The heat that radiated from your skin intensified, blood just below the surface and its sweet citrusy scent mingled with something heavier… oh.

Levi smiled, careful to show the sharp points of his canines which had not fully dropped from his gums but were still capable of inflicting enormous damage. You were aroused. There was a fire in you, and he liked that. He could kick himself for that very fact, but here he was, taking you in leisurely just to see you squirm.

“I-I don’t understand you,” you admitted, despising how breathy and subservient you sounded.

At every turn, he had snarled and lashed out like a cornered predator. He was an enigma, and this was not the job you thought it would be, had hoped it would be. You didn’t know your next move—whether you should cut your losses now and tap out for good or if there was even a chance at salvaging whatever kind of relationship this was becoming.

“No one does,” he said with a sad smile, “not even I do at times.”

“Is this how it normally goes or am I fucking this up?”

Levi ran a hand through his hair and sat forward, his elbows braced on his knees and his fingers steepled. “So, I was right when I said you were a vir—new to this.”

You nodded, cautious given how his smile had turned brighter.

“No. This is not how any kind of vampire – donor exchange usually goes. There are several options and it’s down to the participants, but I doubt many butt heads like we seem to. Do you want me to explain further? I would have thought this was something you knew coming into this gig.”

“I know that there are those that prefer to keep it purely transactional… they open your vein and drink until you ask them to stop, or they feel your heart slow. Some like to know their donor personally; likes, dislikes, career aspirations, taste in food, music etc.”

Levi listened whilst you spoke like you were running a seminar for new donors. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn you had memorised a recruitment pamphlet. His gaze wandered leisurely from your face down to the modest dress you had chosen to wear. The hem reached below your knee, very conservative, but he knew if you were to straddle his waist as he imagined, it would be forced to ride up and expose your thighs.

His tongue wet his lips and he wondered how long it had been since he had last spent time between someone’s thighs, whether it be to drink blood or the nectar of arousal… too long. He could compel you, but he didn’t want to. It was prohibited for any vampire to use mind tricks; most humans weren’t aware it was even possible, though the media and fiction speculated it was and the ones pulling the strings from the top wanted to keep it as purely speculation.

Levi knew that Erwin wouldn’t care, the means to an end rarely mattered and when that end would be to see Levi return to his side, it was even more reason to look the other way. Your mind was strong, of that he was certain, and there was likely no chance of invading through your mental defences without your suspicions rising.

However, above all else he wanted you to choose.

“Blah blah blah. Yes yes. And some like to enact their primal desires and have their little human donor run for their life through the woods,” Levi interjected with a cunning smile.

The colour drained from your face. You had heard of that, though it was supposed to be extremely rare and one of the most highly paid positions given the dangerous nature.

“Is that…?”

“No,” he answered, guessing your question. “Whilst the thrill of the hunt can be exhilarating, fear alters the taste and I prefer my blood on the sweet side.”

Thoughts of dashing through a thickly wooded forest in a white gauzy gown whilst Levi chased you down like a starved beast tumbled through your head. The fear he spoke of melted into something else, confusing and forbidden, but not unpleasant. You took a long gulp of the water, throat working fast but you reached the bottom of the glass all too quickly.

Levi canted his head. “I could… make an exception.” Two fingers rubbed across the width of his lips, thinking.

His body was reacting to the implications swirling in his mind and yours, not that he was reading your thoughts. Not that he needed to when they were so obviously written across your face and expressed in your not-so-subtle body language. Your hips swivelled in his direction, and your breathing became laboured which in turn forced your breasts to heave upward against the hold of your dress’s sweetheart neckline.

You were temptation wrapped in velvet. Temptation wrapped in velvet and only inches away.

He desperately needed to change the subject and regain the control that was slipping with every second that passed where you weren’t sitting on his lap as he wanted. His fingertips tightened into the leather of the armchair, the buttery soft material groaning from the exertion.

“Why did you choose to pursue this line of work? It’s not for the fainthearted,” he asked slowly, carefully choosing his words and tone to at least give the impression of calm control.

The unpredictable nature of this conversation was throwing you for a loop. You straightened, trying to compose yourself and articulate an answer that was honest but did not give away more than you intended. You had your reasons, and there were many, but some were more personal than others.

“Financial stability. I want to provide a retirement that my dad deserves and give me the breathing space to pursue dreams that might not be lucrative but will make me happy. Plus, I’ve always wondered what it might be like… y’know, to be bitten. I’ve heard it only hurts if the vampire wants it to hurt.”

You were holding back, but he could understand that. He wasn’t telling you everything so why should you?

“Retirement fund for just your father? What about your mother?”

A familiar stab of pain assaulted your heart, your smile faltering. “She died. Six years ago. It’s just me and Dad now, and I want him to give up his work so he can see out the rest of his years in peace after everything he went through.”

“My condolences,” Levi offered, inclining his head and choosing to move away from the subject. “We can prevent it from hurting—the bite, I mean. There are different ways to achieve the same effect, and like the act itself, we have our preferred methods.”

“And yours would be?” Sweat coated your palms despite the ambient temperature. Finally, you were getting somewhere.

“How about I demonstrate? Not that I am going to bite you right now, to be clear,” he quickly elaborated when your heart rate nearly shot through the roof.

Levi stretched out a hand, waiting to see if you would place yours within it. The decision only took half a second of thought. Your curiosity far outweighed the possible repercussions. One minute you were sat apart and the next you were blinking into eyes of swirling mercurial grey.

His hand anchored at your hip, fingertips squeezing with a firmness that told of his desire to keep you right there. Your dress was forced upward to accommodate the width of his posture, for a slighter-built man he had a way of imposing his presence regardless of actual size. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his shoulder and he glanced at your arm before meeting your eyes once more.

You had expected him to feel cool to the touch, but the truth couldn’t be further from that. Heat invaded your face at the proximity, a shyness brought your eyes down into a flutter of lashes and shallow breaths.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Levi murmured.

Why you believed him unconditionally wasn’t apparent, but your slow nod came anyway as you gave in to your instincts. Exploratory fingertips traced across the now exposed skin of your thigh. You could feel the rough whorls of his prints in each sweep, callouses scratching pleasantly against the smoothness of your skin. A fire kindled low in your belly, a desire to fuel it further by leaning in and learning the subtle undertones of the cologne or soap he preferred barely held at bay.

“Can I… touch you too?”

“You already are. I would have stopped you if I wasn’t okay with it,” he assured.

“Mhm, okay.”

The words were more for your own reassurance than his. Without further thought, you brought your other hand to his hair and ran your fingers through the slicked-back length. Levi let his head fall back at the action, eyes falling low-lidded and his hips shifting beneath you. The blunt edges of your nails caught against his scalp as you worked them through and brought the front strands forward to frame his forehead.

“Better,” you mused quietly with a smile. “I like your hair loose.”

“That so? I’ll remember that.” Levi fought the urge to purr at the affection he had gone so long without. Your touch was cautious but attentive, it made him thicken behind his trousers until the bite of the restricting fabric was near unbearable.

He was barely resisting from burying his nose into the crook of your neck, already he could see the glisten of sweat decorate your décolleté and images of chasing a droplet with his tongue consumed his thoughts. The melody of your blood was different now that you were closer, more intimate. It weaved a song of desire around Levi and tightened the threads already surrounding his heart. This was meant to be a demonstration of how to make the experience of giving blood pleasurable, but somehow the reason you were sat here became obscured behind a yearning so intense it twisted his gut into knots.

“Is it always this intimate?” You asked and the question broke the spell enough that he could blink through the fog that had descended.

Levi shook his head and then thought better of it. “It can be. Not always. I prefer my partner to be aroused enough that they aren’t thinking about what I’m taking. Instead, they focus on what I’m giving them.”

“Giving…? Oh. T-That’s interesting. Uhm—do you have sex with your partners?”

“It has happened on occasion. Most of the time I feed them enough of the feelings associated with sexual pleasure that the physical act isn’t needed, nor do I usually want to take it that far. I could have demonstrated all of this without you leaving your seat,” he admitted without knowing why.

That made you pause. If he had the power to do that then why bother? Why have you this close and why let you touch him freely in return? Your brow furrowed only to be smoothed by his thumb stroking the crease between your eyes.

“I was curious if this intensity would continue or if the spell you’ve managed to weave would break if I could just get my hands on you,” he supplied without question.

You swallowed thickly, stubbornly ignoring the throbbing pulse between your legs. “And has it?”

His hand slid along your jaw and rounded to the back of your neck. The grip forced your mouth into an oval of surprise, damn near panting until he shook his head and pulled you in.

The moment his lips met yours, your world shifted on its axis and became engulfed in blue fire. It felt both right and wrong to step across this line so easily, so carelessly. You marvelled at how soft his kiss was, tentative and inquisitive all at once as he led you deeper down the rabbit hole.

Your hips dropped you closer to his pelvis, his hand tangled in your hair, one exploring your waist and the curve that led to the swell of your breasts. His touch set every inch of you alight, and you dared to push your tongue inside his mouth when he exhaled a sigh. You explored his teeth' sharp length, knowing that one false move would see your blood spill freely onto his awaiting tongue.

That was what broke him.

Levi grasped at your arms and tore his mouth from yours with a guttural gasp. His chest heaved from the fight that raged within. His gums tingled as his canines extended in preparation for a meal, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wanted to. Every fibre of his being screamed for him to draw your neck taut and let his bite push you over the edge of euphoria. He knew that you would sound so fucking sweet, the sounds you elicited were already playing on repeat in his head and they would only be all the sweeter if he could get you naked beneath him.

“Not like this… it’s not fair.”

“Levi—if it helps, I want this.”

He shook his head with a bark of laughter. You didn’t know what you were saying, anyone would think the same but then again, he wasn’t using any compulsion over you. He hadn’t even tried to pierce the veil of your mind, so, maybe you did want this?

“You are going to be the death of me,” Levi admitted, letting his forehead rest against yours.

Swallowing his pride, he couldn’t let you leave without knowing you wouldn’t look for someone else within Erwin’s syndicate to offer your companionship to. He listened to the siren call a few seconds longer before leaning back and taking your chin between his fingers.

“Will you be mine?”

#delirious writes #levi ackerman #levi x reader #aot fanfiction #levi smut #levi angst #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #aot angst #aot smut #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #vampire au #levi ackerman smut

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daydream-believin · 5 months ago

Text

Like A Boiled Frog (You Don't Even Scream) [ch 1]

[Next Chapter]

notes: might proofread this before i post this to ao3 but here have the raw milk version (pasteurization is for losers amaright)

series summary: every time you think things cant get any more batshit, hurricane throws another pile of guano at you. every time you think the hole cant get any deeper, you fall further. and you’re not sure what frightens you more: the town itself, or your increasing reluctance to leave.

or: au where mike has that pizza shop for wayyy more than a week and you find yourself a horror protagonist. or at least one’s love interest.

chapter summary: get haunted bitch. now go drive to utah in a manic episode. go meet a nice walking corpse, maybe it'll fix you. or make you worse. probably that second thing lmao

word count: 7985, oh dear (thats with me cutting out some stuff lol)

warnings: uh, swearing, manic behavior, self-harmful thoughts/behavior, mention of hallucinations/hearing voices, shit this is sounding bad, i mean its canon typical violence so idk man no lifeguard on duty

You know how in Source Decay, John Darnielle says / I wish the west Texas highway was a mobius strip / I could ride it out forever / when I feel my heart break? / Well, that guy’s a bitchass snake oil salesman for romanticizing this. Fuck that guy.

Although, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to set a cruise control and actually just leave it at that. What with there being no other cars on the road out here at this hour for you to run into. You even forgot about it at one point.

Little puffs of fire danced in your peripheral vision, like fairies flitting about. It was easy to spot them out in the night air, all those pumpjacks that littered the desert. There was nothing but these small fires, with the tiny, dotted additions of the glowing red eyes of windmills to light up the way for miles.

And you tried not to think about how if you broke down, no one would be around to find you. Every now and then you would startle at the shadowy specter of a tumbleweed crossing your path, but you were acutely aware of just how alone you were out here.

On that train of thought, your gaze fell to the passenger side, to the little bear toy you had buckled into a seatbelt like it was a person.

“Can you believe this, Fredbear?” you asked the inanimate object.

Fredbear did not answer, of course. Would be insane if he did, right?

Hmm …Why did part of you expect him to.

***

The august sun was beating down hot on your back as you walked home that day. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week.

The neighborhood was as full of life as it always was. The kids running around in a game of tag, the teens playing basketball, and the adults walking their dogs. You could hear some faint music playing in the distance, most likely from the stage setup in the square downtown, not too far away.

There were many yard sales set up, it being the thing to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon like this. Despite your very strong instincts to rummage through all the boxes in these sales like a raccoon looking for dinner in a dumpster, you were broke, with no money to spare for impulse purchases on random junk. And thus, being a mature adult, you walked right past them.

That is, until a yard full of children’s toys caught your eye. One of your cousins’ kids was turning 6 in a few weeks. Might as well buy presents now before you forget again and have to rush to the store in a panic 8 minutes after the party had already started, sweat rolling down your back as you search the toy isle for something the birthday boy would like, while your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket nonstop because both your cousin is texting and your aunt is calling to ask where you’re at because you were the one who was supposed to be picking up the pizza.

I mean, just a hypothetical scenario here.

You didn’t really find anything good as you dug through the bins of miscellaneous action figures and toy cars. As you could recall, the kid really liked Iron Man right now. And sharks. Alas, you found no Iron Mans or sharks in those bins.

The other table’s baskets were full of stuffed animals. You could maybe get lucky and find a stuffed shark in there. But stuffed animals are notorious for being hard to clean; and yard sale plushies sometimes come with more than just one new friend. You weren’t about to be the reason your cousin had to fumigate her house for bedbugs. Again. So, you decided to close this case for now and skedaddle on out of there.

You took another look back at the table as you walked away.

Well.. The toys you could see at the top of the bins did look like they were well taken care of… It couldn’t hurt to just look, right?

Yeah no. You found no sharks unfortunately. What you did find, however, was this funky little teddy bear wearing a top hat and bowtie.

A real character, that one. The bright gold fabric of its body made it stand out amongst the other toys. The smile stitched onto the bear gave it a weird, smug look. And you hadn’t seen a plushy with eyebrows before.

That being said, this thing’s aura was so... unsettling. You stared into its black eyes, that seemed to stare right back at you, with a strange feeling twisting in the pit of your stomach.

“You like that one, do ya?”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the old man running the sale spoke to you. You had Not heard him come up beside you like that. Creepy.

“Yeah, it’s…” you tried to think of a positive word, “very intriguing. Looks like it’s ready for a party.”

“My granddaughter called him Fredbear. Found him over in Utah, many years back. In a yard sale, just like this one,” he gently took the bear from you, and looked down at it wistfully, “My granddaughter.. liked how smartly dressed he was. A perfect guest for her tea parties. You were right about that…”

The old man stared at the doll for a little longer after the conversation faded. You felt extremely awkward now. Perhaps you really should have just left without unearthing this obvious sentimental piece.

“My grandchildren are no longer here with me,” you felt a little uncomfortable with how he phrased that, “so, I’ll tell you what. Promise me you’ll take care of him, and he’s yours. Free of charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’d be happy to pay for him, really,” you felt bad taking free stuff from the elderly.

“No,” he said with a tone of finality, placing the bear firmly into your hands, “the day’s almost over. I’d like to help this old friend move on. It’s time.”

Well that somehow was both sweet and foreboding at the same time.

So, you thanked the old man and started back on your walk home, Fredbear cradled in your arms. He waved goodbye to you. The grandfather, of course, not the teddy bear.

You probably aren’t going to wind up giving this one to your cousin’s son. There was something about it that told you not to. Maybe it was the way the old man talked about it. You felt compelled to take care of the plush yourself. Kind of like an honor thing. Or a pity thing.

It smelled a little funky. But that’s nothing a little TLC couldn’t handle. And some dish soap.

Maybe you were just. Feeling a bit childish lately. Too small and easily broken. Moved to tears by little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Disregarded and treated like your fears weren’t real.

Deeply afraid.

Yeah, you’d give Fredbear a nice soak in the sink with a fun dish soap bubble bath. And maybe after that, you’ll both feel a little better.

You were alone in your apartment that night, as your roommate was always gone these days. And when you made your tea, you brought Fredbear a mug as well. A little tea party, for old time’s sake.

Looking back, maybe that was your first mistake.

***

Static rolled from your radio. You gave up on fiddling with it hours ago, but you’ve got nothing better to occupy your mind now.

You turned the knob absentmindedly, never really expecting to get anywhere. Or any signal, that is. A muffled country song here, the broken-up voice of a DJ there, nothing strong enough to stay for more than a few seconds. However, a few seconds of a clear transmission was all you really needed when you rolled past a certain signal.

“zZz-Hurricane—“

Now that was a word that got your attention. Not that you were anywhere near the coast at the moment. You know, unless the person reading this is looking to buy some oceanside property in Arizona. In that case feel free to slide into my DMs.

“zZZ-Peach Days! -Zz celebratio— zzZ-year—peaches peach—-ZzzZ-Heritage-zZ,” you let your gaze flicker downward, towards the dimly lit red text of the frequency number display as if that would provide some more insight.

And then suddenly, the fuzz was completely gone, as if you were near the tower itself,

“So Hurry On To Hurricane City!” the spokesman encouraged cheerfully. You could practically here the giant pageant smile in his voice as he delivered his slogan. This man was your friend, obviously. Then, however, his tone shifted as he closed the ad copy, “Because you know the party can’t start without you…”

You held your breath as the silence dragged out a few agonizing seconds, until “ZZZZZZZZ!!!”, in a jolt, the transmission went completely out. Explosively. You even flinched.

You stayed on the station for a good twenty minutes after that, waiting to see if you could hear anything again. You could feel your heart pound against your ribs until the terrifying feeling faded. There was nothing else but static, of course, and for so long you almost thought you must have imagined it. If not for the way those dull words repeated in your head, over and over.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

You hadn’t really had a destination in mind when you took off. No goal other than to get out of there as fast as you could manage. The idea of the West had been bouncing around your brain a lot lately, hence your current trajectory, but you really hadn’t had a clue where you were supposed to be going when you left.

I mean, you still didn’t have a destination. You had no clue what that advertisement was even about. Where they were even fucking talking about. Hurricane City?

Yet, somehow, you knew those words were meant for you. Not anyone else. you. There was a party and the party was waiting for you.

Guess you’d have to look for a map or something in town. Perhaps use the library computer. Man, you would regret throwing your phone into the lake in a fit of passion as you left town, but honestly, this is the longest you’ve known peace in quite some time. Just gonna have to live a little retro for a while. Not the worst thing in the world.

You’ll get a new one later, once you’ve settled in to… wherever you’re going. Whatever new home lies over that horizon for you, you guess.

The sun was breaching the beige skyline of sandy shrub brush as you finally rolled over the state line. You needed to eat. Your stomach growled loudly at just the thought. Funny. You hadn’t even thought about eating in the last.. twenty hours. Which means you should be absolutely shaking right now. Yeah, that’s why you’re shaking. That’s it. You’ll pull into the first diner you see.

You were hoping to at least be in Roswell for breakfast, but there was no way your body was going to be able to keep running if you waited that long. Looks like it’s just going to be the first place you come across.

Hopefully they don’t put green chilis in their pancakes or something.

That sounds insane but it’s an actual thing you’ve seen before in this state, trust. There are no laws nor gods when it comes to Hatch green chilis.

***

Your sleepy brain was not ready for the bell that rang as you walked through the door. Embarrassingly enough, the tinny noise startled you. You almost tripped, to be honest. Thankfully your wobbly Bambi legs held up as you managed to catch yourself.

The hostess wasn’t in sight as you awkwardly stood in the entrance, but there was a whole heap of noise coming from the kitchen.

“Hold on just a second, Sweetpea!” a voice called out to you.

Well, guess you’re holding on a second.

Your eyes scanned the top of the walls, perusing the vast cookie jar collection that the owner had accrued over the years. They were never dusted, despite being on shelves that lined the top of every wall in the tiny shack of a diner, and thus you could easily tell that a few new additions had been made. You know, because those cookie jars were way less filthy.

That’s gotta be a heath-code violation.

After you heard a bit of garbled yelling, the hostess rushed out to take her place in front of you. Smoothing down her polka-dotted apron, she grinned at you.

“Table for two?”

You blinked. It was too early in the morning for fully intelligent speech.

“Uh. No. Just me today. Thank you.”

Her big, bedazzled cat-eyeglasses fell a little farther down her nose as she scrunched her face in confusion, “alright then. Just the one of you today...”

She grabbed a paper menu as she led your shambling body to a table near the window. Which was shut away with ancient looking vinyl blinds that you were too afraid to open, lest they crumble and the cost of replacing them be put on your on tab.

She had already disappeared back into the kitchen by the time you got yourself in a seat. You glanced around the room. You weren’t the only patron here, as a few tables held a few bodies, but you were the only one without your face buried in a newspaper. And to be expected honestly, you were the youngest person in the room at seven in the morning.

The hostess, who was also the only waitress in this tiny local business, placed two glasses in front of you. The dull sound they made hitting the table drew you out of your revelry. There before you were two cups, a steaming mug of fresh coffee and a short glass of milk. You looked up in confusion.

“Don’t worry, it’s whole milk. Builds strong bones.”

That... wasn’t your concern.

You looked back at the cup in confusion and by the time you turned back, she had already moved on to the next table, refilling mugs and having loud banter with the other customers. Her regulars, by the sound of it. You felt too apathetic to try and call her over again.

You shrugged, to no one in particular, as you did not have a breakfast partner with you, despite the waitress’s insistence otherwise. Wait, was she mocking you? Eh, maybe it’s just supposed to be for the coffee. Nevertheless, you would not be drinking the milk, so you just left it there.

Despite the prevalence of the local newspaper in the room, there wasn’t a dispenser or anything at the front of the restaurant, like there usually is. As you drummed your fingers on the tablecloth, bored out of your mind, you kinda regretted throwing your phone in the lake a bit more. Maybe not the best of moves.

But hey, at least you aren’t constantly quelling the incessant buzzing you’d be hearing if you’d kept it.

You busied yourself stirring your coffee while you looked over the menu again, just for something to read. Of course, you were ordering a waffle. Because this was a diner, and, yeah, you do like waffles. And pancakes. And French toast. Doodoodoodoo can’t wait to get a mouthful.

That voice kept echoing in your mind. The party can’t start without you.

“More coffee, Babycakes?” the waitress snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” you moved the mug to the edge of the table, closer to her, “Say… I know this is an out-of-pocket question, but have you heard anything about Hurricane City? Maybe something about peaches?”

“Oh!” she snapped her fingers, “You mean the Peach Days. It’s a little heritage festival they put on every summer in Hurricane, you know. It’s a hoot, my family makes a trip out there every few years or so for it. Not this time of course, clearly, since I’m here talkin’ to you and not in Utah—”

“In Utah?”

Of course, it was Fucking Utah again.

“I know it’s soundin’ far, but it’s only ‘bout a day’s drive from here. Two days if y’ain’t crazy about following an itinerary like my husband,” she brushed a hand over her apron before you lost her attention to the other customers, “I swear that man would plan out a schedule for every second of the day if he could…”

After she wandered off to go top off more mugs, you lamented the fact that you still hadn’t ordered yet. That’s what you get for being nosy about peach festivals, you suppose.

Thankfully though, soon enough you had your hearty breakfast and were back in front of the wheel, on your way to the friendly neighborhood Walmart. Where hopefully no cops or employees would bother you as you crashed in the parking lot.

You took Fredbear to the backseat with you for good luck. Maybe it was the gold color, or the fancy getup he had. Maybe you just needed a cuddle buddy to not feel so alone in this parking lot swarming with people.

Much to your disdain, it was now a bit into the morning hours, and the sun was fully up.

You had tried to find as shady a spot as possible, but it’s not exactly like trees grow in this biome. At least not naturally. Windbreak tree lines were definitely a thing, but those protected buildings people cared about, and this was a Walmart. Nothing around here but concrete, rocks spray painted blue, and cigarette butts.

So after tossing and turning in the bright blinding sunshine for way longer than you should have, and making promises to higher deities was proven to be unfruitful in your attempt to find some semblance of peace, you finally just had to admit defeat. And here by rescinding any aforementioned promises to higher powers.

You laid Fredbear back down on the seat and tucked him in with the blanket when you got back up. At least one of you could be cozy and well rested. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be you, however.

Well, it’s far from the first all-nighter you’ve pulled without having time to take a nap during the following day. Sleep deprivation isn’t real, silly. Teachers just made that up to scare you. It’ll be fine.

***

You know you never really realize how much we structure our lives around other humans until you take a drive through the middle of nowhere. How essential it is to have enough gas to make it to the next town. From town to town, your life becomes segments. Only within the eyesight of other humans are you ever safe. Only within the bounds of the settlement can your soul be settled.

Gas stations become oases. Which is the plural of oasis, apparently. Anyway, you start seeing them like mirages. Dingey, weather-worn gas pumps become as good as a sparkling illusion of precious water in the Sahara. The empty shells of buildings you passed by, long since forgotten, became like mausoleums in these graveyard towns. Villages. Hamlets. Mostly hamlets.

“Are we there yet?” a small and very annoyed voice called out.

You had just written it off as your imagination until you heard the noise of shuffling fabric. Normally your audio hallucinations aren’t that detailed. Paralyzed, you held your breath, not daring to make any noise that would distract your ears from hearing whoever, whatever, was in the back seat. Your mind went to stories of skinwalkers and misshapen monsters and hitch-hiking serial killers.

“… Are we there yet?” the voice repeated, admittedly sounding even smaller to you now.

Yep, that’s a real person alright. Or a real thing. Your eyes were probably bloodshot from the way you haven’t blinked this entire time, just staring straight ahead on the desert highway. Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself, you turned down the rear-view mirror…

Christ almighty. You had a stowaway.

Your stomach turned immediately. God, come on now, don’t puke up what little you had on your stomach. You need that.

“Hey Buddy,” you tried to sound as friendly as you could, “What’s your name?”

Clad in a little striped shirt and cargo shorts, he started kicking his feet in impatience, which would be cute if it weren’t for this situation y’all are in, and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, “We’ve been in here forever,” he whined.

If this was a skinwalker, he was a pretty darn adorable one. And definitely not a hitch-hiking serial killer. At least you hoped. But no, this was a greater form of terror: responsibility.

“Haha, yeah, we have been in here really long, haven’t we? How long do you think we’ve been driving, can you tell me?”

When did you pick up this child. When you got gas in Gallup? Albuquerque? Dear lord, if he’s been in here since Roswell, you’re about to have the world’s biggest headache on your hands, both metaphorically and physically. But there’s no way he’s been in here for fucking 10 hours, right? right??

Okay, okay. Maybe you’re just a little panicky right now and not thinking straight. Maybe teachers hadn’t been making up sleep deprivation just to scare you after all. You have been purposely not drinking anything for the lack of available restrooms. People get dehydration hallucinations, right?

The boy just stared at you, blankly. Probably fully realizing you were a stranger and not whoever he thought you were. In lieu of answering you, he started fidgeting more with the toy bear you had had in the back. You really hoped that hadn’t been what lured him into your station wagon in the first place.

Don’t be getting shy on me now, kid.

You put your blinker on, ready to merge off the road and onto an incoming rest-stop that you thanked your lucky stars for.

“Honey, can you tell me what your phone number is?”

He looked up at you, finally tearing his attention from the bear, and you could see gears turning in his head.

“…435-555-1987?”

You repeated it back to him, and he nodded. Alright, time to find that payphone.

Said rest-stop payphone was thankfully near a picnic table so you could sit him down and be able to watch him carefully the whole time you made this call. Because judging by the fact this situation was happening at all, he was a slippery one.

You got out of the car and opened the back door, but he was hesitant to get out. Which, fair, you are a stranger trying to get him to a second location.

“What’s up, Bud?” you tried your hardest to not sound like a predator but boy was that a real nebulous idea, wasn’t it?

“Fredbear wants to come too,” he mutters.

“Well, sure then, let’s bring him, we’ll have a little picnic.” With no food, but hey, whatever lie it takes to get him sitting on that bench.

It was really cute the way the kid set the bear down on the table and positioned it like they were going to have a picnic together. When you find this kid’s parents, you’ll let him keep Fredbear. Toys like it when they’re given to new children, right? Wasn’t there a movie about that or something. Wincing at the grubbiness of the payphone, you reluctantly dialed the number.

“Hello, Jeff’s Pizza on Main St, are you ready to order?”

You closed your eyes, counting the seconds as you breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7, and released for 8.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted into the receiver. So much for calming down, “please don’t hang up,” you pleaded.

“Listen, we don’t take solicitation,”

“No, uh, sorry. I’ve found a lost child who told me this was his number. Is the owner of this restaurant by chance frantically looking for their son?”

You heard some muffled conversation happening behind the phone, “Well, no, I don’t even have any kids… and I uh, am currently understaffed. Im the only one here.”

you cursed under your breath.

“Uh, alright, well…” you could tell this was getting really awkward for him.

“Could you tell me where y’all are, I’m unfamiliar with the area code,”

“Uh, Hurricane, Utah?”

… If you weren’t on the phone, you fucking swear you’d be screeching at the top of your lungs like a chimpanzee right now.

“Thank you, you know, just in case he’s just remembering an advertisement he’s seen or something,”

“Oh, okay,” there was a pause, “well I hope you find the parents or, whoever,”

“Thank you,” you’ll put him out of his misery and hang up.

“Are you sure that’s your number, Hon?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Why don’t you tell me it again, maybe I dialed it wrong,”

“435-5--” his face scrunched up in concentration, “435-555—I don’t know…”

You tried not to look visibly stressed at this answer.

“Do you know where you live?”

He moved the bears paws along with whatever little game he was playing, before looking up at you, head tilted in confusion, “Hurricane?”

Okay. Police time. If not for him, for you. The skinwalker possibility just went back up. Because, honestly, he had to have gotten in your car as a coyote or something. No way you wouldn’t’ve noticed a whole ass child entering your car.

“How does ice cream sound, huh Buddy?”

“I want ice cream!” he said hastily as if you’d change your mind if he hesitated.

“Ice cream it is then, but only if you’re good for me and the officers, okay? And tell them everything you can remember. You’re smart, right?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Great,” you smiled over clenched teeth.

After herding him back into the car, you had to take a moment to gently rest your head into the steering wheel. And it took everything within you to not smash said head into it. Or scream in agony. No, no, we mustn’t scare the child.

Tuba City wasn’t too far away. The police station was downtown, as most are. Luckily, across the street there was a paleteria with a courtyard area. The little guy got very excited when you got pulled into the parking space, so eh, what the hell, ice cream first. Maybe after a treat and some playtime in the courtyard he won’t be as wiggly and will be able to tell the cops what he knows about just where the hell he came from.

The noise of the bell chiming made you flinch as you two walked into the paleteria. You hadn’t thought you were that tightly wound right now but apparently you were wrong. The lady behind the counter greeted you warmly, and you responded in turn, trying to play it cool.

God, imagine if she got an off-vibe from you and the kid and called over the police from across the street before you even have a chance—

Deep breath. Okay. The kid you had started referring to in your head as just “Little Boy” was leaned against the display case, his breath fogging up the glass in front of him and probably leaving little handprints for the shopkeeper to clean later.

“I’m sorry about that,”

“That’s… Okay. What can I get you?” she seemed a little confused. Strange, but you brushed past it just as quickly as she did.

“Ah, what do we want?” you asked Little Boy.

He excitedly tugged on your pantleg and pointed to the popsicle he wanted, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t need to convince you, but you quickly realized you were not going to be able to say no to any else after this if he deployed the same cute begging look.

“One of those cute little Tweety Bird faces,” you pointed.

“Anything else?” she handed you the popsicle and you gingerly took it.

“Nah, that’s it” you were too nauseous to eat right now.

You paid, throwing the change into the tip jar, and turned to give Little Boy the popsicle she handed you. The words caught in your throat as you looked down to find your pantleg absent of any tugging by any Little Boy. You quickly scanned the tiny paleteria. He was nowhere to be found, anywhere in the room.

“Uh, did you see where the kid went?” you tried not to sound too panicked.

She was taken aback, also quickly looking around the room to find no one, before shaking her head, “Did you have a kid with you?”

You furiously nodded in confusion,

“I’m sorry, then I didn’t see them,” she pointed to the glass door that led to the courtyard only a few feet away from y’all, “Try outside, maybe?”

You burst outside, searching the area in a panic, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Not hidden in the tangle of the garden, not splashing around in the fountain, not at, under, on top of, or around any of the tables.

You went to call his name, but your voice caught in your throat when you realized you didn’t have a name to call. And.

And.

Something hit your shirt. A water droplet. You looked up into the clear, blinding blue sky. Your nerves tickled as another droplet ran down your cheek. Oh, you were crying. Huh.

You took the closet seat you could find, counting the things processed by your 5 senses. It’s all you could do to not start bawling for no reason. Maybe you’ll calm down and be able to think straight soon.

Why can’t you think straight? Everything feels so fuzzy.

You should be terrified, and in a way, you were. In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth: Little Boy wasn’t real. Or at least turned back into a coyote and ran off.

As you stared vacantly into the open air, you realized you still had a dripping popsicle in your hands. Supposedly “Tweety Bird” shaped, it just looked like a yellow skull missing its mandible bone to you. How fitting.

You pulled it to your mouth. Yum. Tasted like AAAAAAAA. Or orange, according to the package.

Attempting to lick the melted yellow liquid off of your hand, you accidentally stuck the ice pop on your face. Great. Now you’re sticky all over.

God, you’ve really gone and lost your fucking marbles this time, haven’t you.

There was a bulletin kiosk a few feet down your field of vision. On that bulletin kiosk was an old poster, barely visible as it was buried under layers of other flyers. It caught your eye and seemed to burn your retinas. What little you could see was the word Freddy and part of what looked like a version of the bear you’d been toting around this whole little expedition, but that was enough.

Something clicked. You looked down at the bear hanging by your side in your other hand. The kid had shoved it into your arms so he could more easily lean on the display case, right before he disappeared the very moment you took your eyes off of him.

You know, you hadn’t really felt alone since bringing Fredbear home. And not in a good way.

Guess the name you should’ve been calling was Freddy.

You had to get rid of that bear.

***

You had been walking home like you always did, same route. But you noticed something peculiar about this time. The house that the old man had his yard sale in was now stripped of all decoration, with a For Sale sign proudly standing in the grass. No cars, and no blinds or curtains on the windows, so you could see into the den which was now devoid of any furniture.

You’ll admit it, you crept around to the other windows, searching for any signs of life at all in the empty rooms. None. No furniture, no people, no trash. The yard sale was yesterday. How did they clean this place out so thoroughly in the short amount of time between when you’d seen it last and now.

A little confuddled, you went home as usual. While strange as hell, this wasn’t a missing person’s case or anything. And it’s probably why the man was so adamant on giving you Fredbear because it was the end of the day. He had a deadline. He was skipping town.

God, you wished you could just skip town.

You frankly thought nothing of it when you unlocked the door to your apartment to see Fredbear was already seated on the couch, like he was all set to marathon whatever 30-year-old cartoon you wound up watching that night. And it’s not like your roommate hadn’t done something like this before, move a stuffed animal or action figure into a funny position for you to find later.

You hadn’t seen him much lately. Or like, at all. The only reason you knew he was still alive were the dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom, and the aforementioned moving the bear around.

Looking back now, was he moving the bear around?

If you locked the deadbolt that can’t be unlocked from the outside, you’d be guaranteed to catch him in person for once. But you weren’t willing to go through the trouble and emotional toil of doing that, however.

In the name of feeling less like a ghost haunting your own home, getting yelled at for intentionally locking your roommate out might be a wee bit counterproductive. Sure, you’d be seen and spoken to, but the harshness of his words and tone would send you into a worse episode than you were already in.

Well, at least Fredbear seemed ready to keep you company tonight...

The fact that they put unskippable advertisements on streaming services you’re paying for in the first place is criminal. Or at least regular cable tv in a trenchcoat.

You got a drink while they prattled on about luxury cars you couldn’t afford and real estate companies you weren’t going to have the privilege of patroning any time soon. Embarrassingly, as you poured the pitcher of water into a glass, you got a little distracted.

The cheap glass’s glass was only about a millimeter or two thick. You could easily just crush this cup in your hand, in one swift movement. The muscles of your arm began tensing up at the thought.

But thankfully, a loud, blaring advertisement coming from the TV snapped you out of it. And so, you promptly decided to Not Do That, because picking all of those tiny glass shards out of your flesh would be a bitch. And that was not how you wanted to spend a perfectly good Sunday night. And of course you didn’t need the questions at work tomorrow.

You returned to the couch, curiously, and you swear, that damn teddy bear followed you with its eyes. Even though they were a shiny, solid black, and the idea itself would be insane.

As you settled back down, you grabbed the remote to turn down the volume of the cheery music playing. Mysteriously, it wasn’t just a commercial with bad sound mixing, the TV itself had been turned up. Now that it had your attention, the thing that was being sold to you seemed to the state of Utah. You know, those Visit [X] ads that were commonly played between cooking shows and ghost hunting documentaries.

“Oh hey, you’re from there, right?” you poked at fredbear. And immediately felt pathetic. God, you’ve got to stop talking to inanimate objects and like get a boyfriend or something. Geez.

The imagery on the screen was just, you know, normal southwest stock footage:

A drone shot of Zion national park

Old men golfing

Owls living in holes they’ve dug into cactuses

Rock archways

A family laughing as they shared a pizza being served to them by a man in a bear suit that looked just fredbear,

“Oh, well there you are, I guess.” you once again absent-mindedly spoke to your toy friend.

Kids swimming in a fancy resort pool

A Navajo cultural event

More rock archways and red sandstone cliffs

Kids crowding around a claw machine filled with toys just like the one sitting next to you

Kids crowding around a stage as an animatronic band played

Kids crowding around a birthday cake, the light of candles bouncing off their faces as they sang along…

The fake sounding voice of the announcer rung out, “Visit Utah! You know the party can’t start without you!”

Your mouth felt dry. Good thing you now had that glass of water.

***

Of course, you did what any smart, sane person would do and feverishly ripped through the layers of old flyers to get to the advertisement for what you now knew was Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place. A themed diner and nickel arcade that made most of their money hosting birthday parties, by the looks of it. You knew the type; you had been an American child once too.

Good thing none of the cops were hanging around outside to fine you for littering, because the amount of paper you just released into the breeze was in fact criminal.

There was a short list of locations at the bottom of the poster. They had a few scattered over Utah, or at least they used to, judging by the harsh weathering of this poster. The closest one being in Bigwater, explaining why this poster was out here in Tuba. But the word Hurricane stood out to you like it was lit up in neon. It burned like sunlight.

It appears you are in fact on your way to Hurricane, Utah. As if you didn’t know that already at this point, you being out on the canyon rim instead of your much preferred and beloved Rockies. Well, congratulations bitch. You’ve only got another three hours to go. Better get going. Have fun!

***

Oh, this place was creepy as hell. Or it’s just late at night, and you’re sleep deprived and paranoid. In the spirit of being honest to yourself, ‘sleep deprived and paranoid’ has always been your natural state of being, but right now it’s definitely ramped up to an eleven.

But even though it’s been close to 48 hours since your last brain-reset, this place still had a certain energy about it. Like New Orleans, or the woods around lynching bridges did. That spooky oh I am Not Safe here type of energy.

The gas station-man gave you a real weird look when you stormed in and asked where the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was. Normally you would’ve chalked it up to you being a clear foreigner asking for directions as if it’s 1995, to a children’s arcade close to midnight nonetheless, but now you weren’t so sure.

You eyed the fridge full of wine in pint sized bottles and little juice cartons. But nah, you probably needed to have a quick reaction time to whatever was waiting for you in this Venus flytrap you’re willingly walking into. You grabbed a Monster instead and you know what, yeah, that probably wasn’t the best decision either. If you weren’t high strung before, you definitely were now. You felt like you could punch a bear. A Freddy Fazbear.

You bought a local map alongside the energy drink, feeling like you were gonna need it. Man, low-tech was actually kinda annoying after a while. You got the gas station-man to begrudgingly mark Fazbear’s down onto it for you. Apparently, it and all other locations within town had closed down some twenty years ago. Not many people are still around who remember why, he said, but it had something to do with the faulty animatronics. Teenagers told ghost stories and dared each other to spend the whole night in the dining room. But otherwise, beyond the rumors, the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was just an empty, scorched building. And the other various locations like Jr’s or Circus Baby’s had been sold off, passing so many hands who knows what businesses were in there now. But you could still kinda tell, if you paid attention, in the same way you can tell if something used to be a Pizza Hut.

What you really wanted, according to gas station-man, whose nametag read Gary, was this new location that was opening soon, simply named Freddy’s Pizzeria. It’s set to open for business in September, so you’re lucky. He marked it one your map as well.

You don’t know why Gary was so nice to you. Maybe it was the harrowed look in your eyes. Maybe it was the twitchiness. Maybe Gary is just very bored of this tourist town and was looking to fall madly in love with a random troubled soul he met at midnight in a gas station and would wind up running away with to some far-off place. If that was the case, sorry Gary. You were too busy with the metaphorical torture labyrinth to care about romance at the moment.

You couldn’t decide if the haunted Fredbear would want to see an old location or the new one. You asked, but of course the fucker didn’t answer. Just sat there with his smug grin and glassy eyes that followed your hand movements. So, you quite literally tossed a coin. A new mint, the face side had Eleanor Roosevelt on it. And she marked the fact that you were going to try the new location first, and then try the original building next. Cool.

***

Your patience was kinda at its limit here, you’ll admit. You really should get some sleep soon. Or eat. Since you were hellbent on getting here and nothing else, the only thing on your stomach besides that wretched Tweety Bird popsicle is half a monster energy. Guess you’ll go by a fucking Denny’s after this. If you survive.

If you were going to die horrifically, you’d really rather the forces that be make it snappy. This was getting ridiculous.

You pulled into the parking lot. The building clearly wasn’t new but had been freshly painted. Nothing creepy so far. As you stared down the building, sizing it up, you noticed there was one car parked in the front, and a few of the windows were lit up.

Cool, so there was someone in there. Great. That makes, well whatever this is, much harder.

The door was locked.

You could hear music playing from inside. You banged on the door as loudly as you could manage, and it still took a couple of minutes before the music stopped. And then a very disgruntled man in coveralls was in the doorway, tiredly asking just what the fuck you wanted at this time of night.

He smiled to cover up his rudeness, but the smile stretched a little too wide, inhumanly wide, and a shiver ran down your spine.

You took him in, unashamedly raking your eyes over his form. He stood awkwardly, as if ready to bolt at any moment. What you could see of his build made him out to be weirdly skinny. That unnaturally wide smile gave way to some exposed teeth on the left side of his face. His eyes were shadowed by his bangs in the backlight of the door, but you swore they almost glowed themselves. His complexion was greyish and bordered on almost purple in this lighting.

Despite all this, he was still pretty handsome. Well, you did always think some of those creepypasta guys were boyfriend material. Maybe, you wouldn’t mind getting chopped up into little pieces if this guy was the one doing it. Okay, and maybe you’ve been sleeplessly chasing ghosts too long.

Startling you, he reached his hand to grab your shoulder, a little too fast.

“Hey mate, are you okay?” He asked nervously,

It snapped you out of your stupor, realizing you had yet to say a word to him, “Uh, yes, I just wanted to…”

How do you even fucking ask this. “Hey, can I bring a stuffed bear to your dining room so maybe it’s spirit will leave me alone? Maybe conduct a séance or something?” Seriously, did you even know what you were doing here? Shit. Okay.

“I wanted to ask if I could check out your facility?” came out like a question because even you had no clue what you were saying.

“Come back tomorrow in the daylight, then,” he began closing the door, shaking his head in annoyance, “or perhaps when we’re actually open.”

“NO!” you slammed your foot into the door as he closed it, “AAGH!”

“Jesus Christ! WHY.”

Dear lord, this man now 100% thinks you’re a crackhead.

“Just, don’t close that door, okay,” his brows scrunched together as you grit your teeth to swallow down the pain, “I need you to help me.”

“I really don’t have any money to spar--”

“I’M HERE BECAUSE OF A GHOST,” you interrupted. Finally, you managed to get that out somehow, if nonsensical.

A look of recognition flickered in his glowing eyes. He lowered into your space, kind of intimidatingly. Or intimately. Yeah, no, this was hostile, don’t fool yourself.

“What kind of ghost,” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh,” shit, okay, “the weird, haunted doll kind? Uh, like the ones the McElroy brothers are always bidding on on eBay. Or maybe this is kind of a Ben Drowned kinda situation, I’m not completely sure.”

He blinked, “okay, I only understood a few of those words, but—”

“It’s a Freddy teddy bear that really wanted me to take it to Hurricane, okay?” You really were at the end of your rope at the moment, “I have literally driven here for days straight on no sleep and barely any food and I need this Unauthorized Fucking Thing to find it’s eternal peace or kill me in some horrible way so I can hurry up and get on with my goddamn life,”

“Uh, see… the thing is,” he started to retreat back again, slowly moving his hands like he was trying to calm down a spooked animal.

You realized what was about to happen, and it must have been visible in your eyes, since his huge unnatural placating smile returned,

“I actually don’t want anything to do with that, sooo…”

“PLEASE—” you reached out in blind panic, but he dodged it. (now if only you could’ve dodged the scooper like that Mikey)

The door slammed in your face.

Your breathing was ragged and fogged up the glass as he locked it again. You stared up at those glowing pinprick pupils of his as he gave you an apologetic little wave goodbye. And then he fucking made a big show of pointing at the closed sign before turning tail to disappear back into the darkness of the empty restaurant.

Okay.

Just a little setback. You’ll go to the older location first, now, and come back when this asshole is sleeping. Can’t be too hard to bust out one of those windows, and you doubt he has an alarm set up already. It’s his fault, really. If he didn’t want property damage, then he should’ve just let you in. Not like you haven’t warned him that you were desperate or anything.

Just gonna go to the other location. You’ve got your map, you’ve got a tank full of gas, and you’ve got chutzpah.

Now what you don’t have? Is a car that will start.

#michael afton x reader #mike shmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf #michael afton #michael afton x male reader #i mean its gender neutral but just so my fellow boys know it's safe here. there will be no 'sweet girl' ever. god.#fnaf fanfic #five nights at freddy's #my writing #i dont even remember how to tag these things anymore lol

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winterinvelaris · 12 days ago

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The Lucky One

Chapter One: Stay Stay Stay

Pairings: Feyre/Rhysand

Summary:

Feyre has spent the last two years of her life trying to be the perfect girlfriend for Tamlin. She's pushed away her friends, her sisters, her father… she even quit her job and started going to UCLA on his paycheck. Everyone who used to know her insists that she's losing herself, but Feyre knows better. Tamlin is kind, funny, smart-- even rich and handsome, as if that matters. Feyre is lucky to have him. Sure, she'd like him to respect her interests and loved ones a little more, but no one is perfect. Certainly no one who would go for her. Tamlin is the best she's ever going to have. Right?

TL;DR: Feyre leaves her toxic relationship with Tamlin and immediately lands herself a mega-rich Hollywood prince charming. AKA Rhysand

Read on Ao3 or under the cut:

Feyre blew out an anxious breath, pulling her phone out for the eighth time in the last five minutes. Her breath fogged in front of her face, the chill in the air only heightening her frustration.

Tamlin was supposed to be at the theater twenty minutes ago. It was the first date he’d planned for them in months, and Feyre had been grateful enough for the rare effort that she hadn’t even argued when he shot down her movie suggestion and begged to go see something he liked instead. She was happy to watch whatever war documentary had caught his attention, if only to spend time with him outside of his penthouse. It sounded ungrateful when she thought about it that way, but… was it so much to ask for him to show up on time?

Finally, her phone vibrated.

Tam <3: Sorry. Working late. Can’t make it. Wait up for me at home?

Shame flooded through her. Of course he’d have a reason. Yes, she wished he’d told her before she drove all the way out to the movie theater, but work had been killing him lately. She didn’t blame him for forgetting about their date, not when she apparently couldn’t be bothered to remember the kind of stress he was under. She should drive right back home and prepare something nice for when he got home– dinner, or cookies, or something like that– to apologize for doubting him. Not that she had expressed those doubts, but it was the right thing to do.

“Hey, stranger,” A voice called from behind her. Feyre turned sharply, and came face to face with her sister’s friend. Emerie stood beside a pretty blonde Feyre didn’t recognize. “You look lonely.”

“I was waiting for my boyfriend,” Feyre explained. “But he just cancelled, so I should be going.”

Emerie didn’t hide her look of distaste at the mention of Tamlin. The first time Feyre had brought Tamlin home to meet her family, Emerie and Gwyn had been bundled up in the living room with Nesta, the three of them engrossed in their monthly book club pick. Feyre had asked what manner of romance had struck their fancy this time, and Gwyn had immediately launched into a wonderfully enticing summary of the whole thing. Tamlin had kept quiet at the time, but had made his feelings clear the moment they had a moment alone. He didn’t want Feyre to spend too much time with her sister’s friends anymore. She had resisted at first, but after several lectures about their anti-intellectualist interests and the toxicity of Feyre not respecting his boundary, she relented.

The problem was that avoiding Emerie and Gwyn meant avoiding Nestwo ta as well. The two sisters had been slowly but steadily improving their relationship in the years before Tamlin, so when he came along it was no secret what– or who– had reopened the rift. Feyre knew that when Nesta was hurting, Emerie and Gwyn hurt as well. As such, Feyre was well aware of what they both thought of her boyfriend.

“That’s a shame,” the blonde said. “You’re all dressed up, and you’re already here… What movie were you going to see?”

“Uh, some war documentary, I think? I forget the name. He picked it.”

“You should come see The Night Court with us,” Emerie suggested.

The Night Court had been the movie Feyre wanted to see. Tamlin, who was an avid hater of all things chick flick and leading actors with “punchable” faces, had dismissed it immediately. She understood that romcoms were silly, and she didn’t even really know what the movie was about, but Feyre had always loved romantic movies, despite herself. Some part of her still felt compelled to go home and do something nice for Tamlin, but…

“Sure,” Feyre shrugged, “Why not? As long as you don’t mind me third wheeling your date.”

“It’s not a date,” the blonde corrected her quickly. “I’m straight.”

Feyre winced at her own assumption.

“Oh, my mistake. Sorry, I just thought–”

“Let’s go inside,” Emerie cut her off. She turned on her heel and marched through the glass doors, and Feyre and Mor followed suit.

“I haven’t heard much about this movie,” Feyre said, desperate to change the subject. “Just that it’s a romance.”

“I’ve heard a little too much about this movie,” Mor laughed. “I think the amount of rants I’ve been subjected to about on-set drama broke a few NDA laws.”

“Mor knows the main guy.” Emerie explained to Feyre.

“I don’t just know him,” the blonde– Mor– explained, “He’s my cousin.”

“Is it strange having an actor in the family?” Emerie asked.

“Not until thirst edits of him show up while I’m scrolling.” Mor followed her answer with a gagging sound.

Living in LA, it was common enough to run into people who knew one or two famous people, so Mor’s connection to this actor was anything but strange. Feyre decided not to mention that she had no idea who this man was. It wasn’t even until the movie started rolling that she learned his name.

Starring Rhysand Blackwood.

The film started, and Feyre smiled to herself, the imagery soft and sweet and the music upbeat. She didn’t know Emerie very well, and Mor was a complete stranger, but it had been so long since she had gone out like this. She didn’t have close friends outside of Tamlin and Lucien, so it was nice to just do things with other girls. Things like seeing a cheesy movie her boyfriend would have hated.

The smile disappeared from her face when he appeared on screen. He was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His pitch black hair was styled perfectly, a few loose strands of it falling attractively in front of his deep blue eyes. By the end of the next two hours, after several shirtless scenes and on-screen makeout sessions, Feyre was practically drooling.

As they emerged from the theater, Feyre let Mor and Emerie do most of the talking. Feyre had kept up with the plot decently enough, but all she could think about now was Rhysand. She doubted Mor would appreciate hearing Feyre rant about her unfairly attractive cousin.

“It was so good to see you again,” Feyre managed when they reached Emerie’s car. “I’ve missed you. And Gwyn.”

Emerie was silent for a beat, as if debating her next sentence.

“But not Nesta?” she said finally. Feyre winced.

“Of course I miss Nesta,” Feyre amended. “I just meant that it was nice to catch up. I know things have been weird.”

“Because your boyfriend hates us?”

“No!” Feyre hissed. Mor muttered some excuse and slipped into Emerie’s front seat. “He doesn’t hate you. It’s just– since we’re so committed, he doesn’t find it appropriate for me to be going out with single girls all the time. It’s a boundary of his that I have to respect.”

Feyre decided not to mention that Tamlin also found their hobbies to be degrading and unfit for a future wife. She didn’t agree, but if he wanted a mature and intellectual girlfriend, Feyre could be that for him. Even if most days all she wanted was to go out to brunch with some women her age and talk about things that would make Tamlin pop a blood vessel.

“Y’know, Nesta used to go on and on about her feisty little sister who didn’t take shit from anybody.” Emerie said. “What happened to you, Feyre? I mean, do you even have any friends anymore? Or are you only allowed to hang out with his friends now?”

“That’s none of your business.” And entirely too true. “I’m lucky to have him. He provides so much, and he asks for so little. If I want to be his wife, I have to learn how to compromise.”

“Is that what you want?” Emerie snapped. “To live like this forever? Pushing away your sisters and your friends for some stock bro influencer douchebag?”

Feyre couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m going home. Goodnight, Emerie.” Without another word, Feyre turned on her heel and left. Still, she couldn’t get Emerie’s words out of her head.

What happened to you?

Is that what you want?

To live like this forever?

Do you want to live like this forever?

Forever. Forever. Forever…

Feyre cursed under her breath when she finally got into the taxi and turned her phone back on. Under seventeen missed calls from Tamlin, there was a string of unread messages.

Tam <3: I’m home. Where are you?

Tam <3: Feyre, where the hell are you?

Tam <3: Answer your phone.

Tam <3: If this is because I skipped the movie, you should know that I find that very immature, Feyre.

Tam <3: This is childish, even for you.

Tam <3: ANSWER YOUR PHONE.

Tam <3: Why is your location off?

Tam <3: I swear to God, Feyre, if I find out you’re at a bar right now, we’re done.

Tam <3: Why did Morrigan just tag you in an Instagram story?

Tam <3: Things like this are why I made you give me your password. I don’t ever want to hear that “just trust me” bullshit again.

Tam <3: Just come home so we can work this out.

Shit, shit, shit.

Feyre: I’m so sorry. My phone was off. I’ll call you right now.

Feyre pressed the green call button. The phone rang and rang until she was greeted with his voicemail.

Feyre: Please answer. I’m coming home right now.

Feyre called again, to the same result.

Feyre: I just ran into Emerie and her friend. We decided to see a movie while I was there.

Another call, still no answer. Feyre blew out a shaky breath, desperate to hold in her tears. Everything would be okay. She would go home and talk to him, and he would understand. He had to understand.

#acotar #sarah j. maas #a court of thorns and roses #feyre archeron #rhysand #my first acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #feysand fanfiction

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hannahbarberra162 · 6 months ago

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Country Mouse, City Mouse Chapter 2

Now on Ao3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Chapter 2 - Oh, Fiddleheads.

“Would you like to view the accommodations of the castle?” Mihawk addressed you, after completing a tour of his farm. You were a little impressed, he hadn’t done a terrible job. Especially since this looked like his first foray into farming. You’d definitely seen worse. He was a man of few words, telling you only the names of the fruits and vegetables he’d planted. That’s ok, you didn’t mind silence either. You were sitting on your haunches and making a rough sketch of the farm with paper and pencil you’d had in your sack. You stood up and said “sure enough.”

The afternoon sun had come and gone, and you were hungry. “By the way,” you said, walking towards the castle “I’m not much of a cook. I can grow your food but I cain’t cook it. Er, not well by any means. I can try, but you might not like the results.”

“It is no matter. A cooking schedule has already been established. Perona and I switch off, as Roronoa is also…not inclined towards cooking.”

“Oh, there are other folks here? And they don’t help you on the farm?”

“Roronoa is dedicated only to his training. Perona prefers to remain in the castle.”

“Oh, she’s what I call an indoor cat. Ain’t nothing. Takes all types to make the world run.” With that, you continued walking in silence together. You didn’t feel the need to say anything and neither did he. Walking along together, you occasionally pointed out wild edible flora. “Let’s keep our eyes on that fiddlehead fern. Once they’re ready, they taste great sauteed.” Mihawk looked over at the fern but said nothing.

Upon reaching the castle, he opened the large door with ease. “After you,” he said gesturing inside. It was a grand place, you supposed, all bricks and tall ceilings. “There are many unused rooms inside the estate, you may select whichever suits you.”

“Oh no need, I’ll just be here to eat. Maybe to bundle vegetables when the harvest comes.”

“What do you mean.” he said the question as a statement, as though the thought of not living in the castle was unfathomable.

“This ain’t my kinda place. Too grand for the likes of me,” you said with a kind smile. “I saw you have a shed out by the farm. I’ll live in there. Nice ‘n comfy.”

“The garden shed is not a suitable accommodation.”

“That’s fine, I don’t mind hunkerin’ down outdoors. Weather seems fine tonight.”

Mihawk sputtered. You’d rather sleep in the grass than in his grand castle?

“You alright there, Boss? We already fightin’ each other?”

“There is no fight. If you wish to live in the shed or outside like the animals, you may do as you please. Beware the humandrills. I will give you no further warnings.”

“Thank you kindly.”

Mihawk POV

You did know your craft of farming. He enjoyed listening to you talk about the wild vegetables and their practical applications. You did not feel the need to prattle on when there was nothing needing to be mentioned, something he appreciated. You had a certain spark that made everything more interesting. It was charisma, he realized. Not like Shanks, who weaponized it to manipulate those foolish enough to fall for it. You were artless in your charming personality and it shined through your words and actions. You were not unpleasant to be around, which Mihawk appreciated.

He was going to show you around the castle when you told him your preposterous idea of living outside in the shed. He had never heard of such nonsense. But you were an adult woman capable of making your own foolish choices. He didn’t have to understand it.

It was Perona’s turn to cook dinner, and he could smell the stew she was finishing. Perona, as temperamental as she was, had a knack for cooking. It was easier to tolerate her outbursts on a full stomach. He walked you to the kitchen and showed you the attached mess room. Though he had a penchant for eating in the dining room, they most often took their meals in the mess. Perona was floating about, putting the finishing touches into the stew.

“Ooooh, what do we have here?” Perona said as she floated about, encircling you. “Did you finally get a servant like I wanted? This one is dirty. Ew! Make it wash!” Perona said as she grimaced in disgust. You just laughed at her words, taking her insults in stride. You did not even comment on the fact that she was floating about with her hollows following.

“Ain’t no servant, but I am dirty, no denyin’ that. I’m Y/N, I’m workin’ the farm for a few. You must be Perona. Heard a lot about you, but didn’t do you justice. Why you’re as beautiful as the day is long,” you said, tilting your head to the side and smiling. You had quickly surmised the way to Perona’s heart - through her ego.

“Ah, don’t be so silly! In these old rags? I’m usually so much cuter!,” Perona was waving you off while smiling and blushing.

“No, I mean it. I’ve never seen hair like yours before - just the crowning jewel of your look. You must tell me how you get it that way.”

Mihawk would rather eat Roronoa’s cooking than hear about Perona’s hair care routine…again. But the two of you were having a spirited conversation as the table was being set. He noticed you correctly placed the plates, bowls, cutlery and glasses according to the rules of etiquette. Roronoa joined the rest of you in the dining area. He grunted as a means of expression.

“Roronoa, this is Y/N. She is aiding my work on the farm.”

“ ‘M Zoro,” he said, sitting down to eat the plated food.

“Nice to meet you Zoro,” you answered. Though when you said it, it had an amusing twang. It sounded more like “Zoh-roh.” Roronoa said nothing and you didn’t engage with him further.

Dinner passed easily between the four of you. You talked with Perona about various topics he found exceedingly tedious. However, he was pleasantly surprised to see your table etiquette extended past table settings. He had been subjected to Roronoa’s unrefined eating style, often eating without utensils. Perona would talk with her mouth full of chewed food, a truly odious habit. You, however, held all your utensils correctly, cut your meat with the knife in your right hand, chewed with your mouth closed, and had placed a handkerchief in your lap as a napkin. Mihawk was pleased to see that there was at least one other person on the island he could bear to eat near.

After the meal, you helped clean up alongside Roronoa. Mihawk poured himself a glass of wine, and offered you one as well. You accepted, and he poured glasses for Perona and Roronoa as well. He felt it was acceptable to have a toast to new beginnings. He handed you your glass and raised it. You did the same.

“May our harvests be bountiful and may we have the time to enjoy it.”

You smiled, and gently clinked your glass against his. Roronoa chugged his entire glass in one go. Perona sampled the wine and stuck out her tongue, declaring that it wasn’t “sweet enough.” You sipped gently and thanked him for the glass. Hopefully the humandrills didn’t kill you tonight, he thought to himself. You were becoming rather useful to have around.

#op mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #perona #goth fam #timeskip au #roronoa zoro #farming adventures with mihawk #ghost princess perona #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #sunshine x grumpy #grumpy x sunshine

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penvisions · 11 months ago

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garnish {chapter 10}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it does make the heart grow fonder. You find yourself missing Joel, too stubborn to reach out but Ellie is tired of seeing you both pinning as she navigates classes with you and her homelife with Joel now that she's back in the city.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: canon typical language, reader is a dumb dumb, reader is stubborn and heartbroken, mentions of reader's past, trauma, complicated family dynamics, stressful family dynamics, reader mourns her past relationship with father, verbal abuse (past tense), ellie being a scheming lil shit, language, sexual content, references to sexual relations (past tense), smoking, cigarettes, nicotine, drinking, consumption of alcohol, melancholia, manic depressive internal monologue

A/N: WE DID IT, we made it to the end!! i've never finished a fic before so this is all so exciting and a little terrifying, to be honest. i hope hope hope that i've done this lil au justice, with it growing a mind and story line of its own i never even planned for somewhere around chapter five. but we did it and i am proud of this lil one and maybe self-indulged a lot with my own birthday on the 17th! please tell me your thoughts!! a HUGE thank you to everyone that interacted with this. y'all made this possible by engaging with me and inspiring me to continue on even when my own brain was working against me ♡

i would love to take prompts for these two dummies to expand their universe and story in the future if anyone is interested? but i'm still getting used to having what little attention my fics are getting and i dunno if that would be something people are interested in ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Well, you certainly have the enthusiasm, Ellie.” A smile passed over the desk, fingers curled over her application and subsequent documentation. She had already graduated from her Boston school at the end of the previous spring semester, already set up to TA for a favorite professor of hers in the new year after a successful first year of doing so for another. But she had a pending application for a secondary degree. One here in Austin.

Her life laid out in front of you once she had begun school, having applied and gotten into an art program in England right out of high school, something she had gushed about excitedly for a few moments when you asked her about it. Sure, you had talked about it in passing over shared meals both in the comforting environment of father’s home and while out getting coffee that had developed as a regular occurrence any time she was in town.

She was only four years younger than you, both her and Sarah. So driven and excited about this time in their lives. Sarah having relocated to work for a company that fought for her attention and hire after a phenomenal performance in communications and social work out in California. Both supported and shown love in a way that used to make anger and jealousy flair up in you, but that you now saw as a blessing for those who had that kind of nurturing environment to flourish in.

“I just…the perspective of art and language of art you’re trying to explore is really fuckin’ interesting. I know it doesn’t necessarily fall in line with my focus of studies, but-“

“Classes that interest you are just as important as those that help along your degree.”

“And dad said that I could go for it, said if it’s what I want, he’ll help me in any way he can.”

“Ellie, it would be a pleasure to have you take part in the program. There is a two semester commitment, I will remind you. And the application you submitted for Austin is still pending. But if you’re on board, I can sign my approval and walk it over to the admissions office when we’re done here.”

“I was…actually going to see if you could give me a ride back to the house…dad was in a hurry when my car wouldn’t start, and I left my keys with him so he could take a look at it.”

“Oh,” Your bottom lip was between your teeth, nervousness taking ahold of you. “Um, well-“

“I totally understand not wanting to, but I would feel better going with you than taking a bus or somethin’.”

“It’s okay, I can. But let’s walk this over to admissions and see what we can get in the way of aid first, yeah?”

“Fuck yeah, thank you so much!”

Your class sessions were at nine and lasted for two hours every Tuesday and Thursday. Not wanting to over log the students with a long block of class time on top of all the reading you did end up requiring of them in order to participate in the discussions. Only two days a week to allow for some leeway with the readings on top of the other responsibilities you were all to familiar with. You had explained to Ellie once her application had been switched over from pending to accepted.

You did miss the social aspect of working at the restaurant, the different foods and drinks you could try on a whim, the ability to get as much or as little human interaction as you wanted. But…you had made a choice to leave it behind. For good. Focusing finally on the things that you wanted to do for the rest of your life and a plethora of memories and stories of a time now past.

And Joel….you missed Joel.

But you were stubborn, sure that the man wanted to wash his hands of you after never getting a response.

Ellie was banging her head along to the tape that had been stuck in the trucks deck for years now. An old one from your childhood, one of the only things you father had intentionally gifted you. His love of music something you shared despite the rift and space created between you both. Your birthday up until you moved resulting in a gift card to the local record shop and a few tapes or CDs he wanted to share with you.

The younger girl belted out the lyrics, the loose strands of her hair whipping around from the cracked windows. You sang along with her, though not as loud, indulging her despite the ache that had settled in your bones. Having overthought yourself into a weird mood before class.

Suddenly the music faltered before the warbling completely as the ribbon inside began to loosen from the spool and hang out from the deck.

“Shit, that’s not good.” Ellie lamented as she reached forward to push the play button in to pause the music. She hit the ejection button and carefully pulled the tape from the mouth of the player. Her charcoal stained fingers spinning the spools one at a time to wind the ribbon back where it should be. A few moments later and she was reloading it and pushing play but the speakers only crackled before the tape ejected itself.

“Damn, it died.”

You didn’t say anything, thoughts a whirlwind as you panicked over loosing the last tangible connection you had with your estranged father. If she picked up on your tense silence, Ellie didn’t comment on it, leaving the tape hang half out the deck and moving to use the radio for the remainder of the ride.

The house looked the same, Joel’s house, nestled to the side of a small cul-de-sac. The neighborhood calm and quiet in the early afternoon.

The graying curls you would recognize anywhere peaked from where Ellie’s care was being inspected by Joel laid out on a roller underneath the carriage. The hood was propped open and a giant tool storage cabinet had been wheeled closer to the opening of the garage. She bounded up to him, talking too fast for you to make anything out from the curb.

But Joel must’ve been able to decipher at least some of it because his gaze turned to you, oil staining one of his cheeks and his chest puffing up with a deep breath.

You felt your own breath catch low in your throat, a lump of air making it hard to breathe.

You drove off with your heart hammering in your chest.

It was now February, the dreaded holiday of the month approaching and your birthday right along with it. A shame, that such a day overshadowed any plans you had once made. The holiday taking precedent with prefix menus that brought in generous tips from happy couples and friends. But this year, this year you could do whatever you wanted.

Stay in, go out, order takeaway, drown yourself in fancy truffles. Whatever you wanted. But the weight in your heart didn’t have you all too keen for the day to arrive. Wondering what Joel had decided for his special menu, the drinks Millie worked with Mary on to pair alongside it. Maybe….maybe you could snag a seat at the bar and indulge?

You let the thoughts trail off and focused on grading the papers in front of you. Needing to get them done before your attention was pulled by a movie night with your friends.

You were up at exactly one minute before the clock stuck midnight. Bleary eyes watching the progression of the last sixty seconds before it was officially your birthday. Your phone buzzed with two texts immediately, all camps too much to handle in the early hour. Turning it to silent mode, you turned over and listened to the faint sounds of Sweet Pea playing with a bell down in the living room, hoping sleep would come back to you.

Waking up for a second time was a whirlwind, snooze allowing for you to sleep in until the absolute last minute before you had to get up. Shoving the tube of fabric that was a simple, off the shoulder dress over your head and fluffing up your hair with dry shampoo and you were out the door and headed to the campus.

“Alright, everyone, since I’m feelin’ a little generous today!” You clapped your hands once, noticing Ellie slink in at the last minute before you typically announced the beginning of class. “I’m gonna play a documentary for today- but!”

You interrupted the happy chuckles from the group of about thirty or so individuals you had interviewed and approved for your program. “I will need a paper on the methods used to help identify the remains and artifacts, with your general interpretation of the cultural basis hypothesized from them due next class!”

“Professor, c’mon. It’s my birthday, it’s your birthday: let’s all just take it easy.”

A chorus of, “Is it really your birthday?! Why didn’t you tell us!” rang out across the room. Certain individuals looking genuinely upset that they had missed out on a chance to let you know how much they appreciated you and liked you. It made the ache in your heart lighten just a bit, weird mood about the day waning slightly in their unabashed openness. Ellie was oddly silent, normally one to engage loudly and enthusiastically, her phone in her hand, fingers a blur as she fiddled with it.

“If you really want to do something for me, please, concentrate on the documentary!” You turned your back to the class, booting up the video on your laptop and tugging down the projector screen that was closed and stored up above the whiteboard. Turning the lights off, save for one in the back for them to take notes with, you pressed play and offered one last tidbit before the opening credits rolled, “But it doesn’t hurt to bring a gift card for any local coffee shops.”

“Need a ride today, Ellie?” You asked the lingering girl, slow to pack her bag up once the class had ended and hesitant to disembark from the campus altogether. Her car was in the shop, something needing repair that was beyond Joel’s skill set. As well as a new set of tires they were waiting on to get delivered before installing them. The ones she had for the more intense weather seasons of Boston worn down over the years and needed replacing. You didn’t mind totting the younger girl around, offering her help with proof reading papers and going over terms that didn’t easily stick. Talking about nothing in particular, though Joel had been diligently inside the house or away each time you dropped her off at home, no more awkward glances since your little display of speeding off the first time.

“Was gonna offer to get you a coffee,” She wouldn’t look directly at you, setting you on edge. You were about to ask her if everything was okay when she suddenly swung her bag on her shoulder and faced you. “I’m helping at the restaurant today, assumed you wouldn’t be cool with dropping me off there.”

An hour later, you were both loaded in the car with too expensive coffee drinks and pulling up to the front of the restaurant. You didn’t want to test if you had clearance to park in the employee lot, not sure what would hurt more. The denial of your code beeping or the approval of your code chirping and opening the gate. Sighing, you put shifted into park and let the engine idle.

Ellie seamed to be taking her sweet time once again. Moving slow to collect her things, having hesitantly showed you the project she was working on for one of her art courses. The bell above the front entrance sounded as the door opened and your head snapped up to see Joel walk through it. He paused, holding the door open beside him as he gave a small wave to Ellie and a somber nod to you.

Yous lips lifted at the corners as you noticed the stain of what had to be beets on his otherwise pristine apron, the white of it displaying the dark red in a disturbing way. His other hand was behind his back, shrouded in the shadows of the interior. He shared a hushed work with Ellie as she finally exited the truck and slinked past him with a last wave toward you.

But Joel didn’t follow her inside.

He stepped outside completely. The door closing behind him with a soft thump.

He was walking toward the truck, the passenger window down all the way as Ellie relished in the fresh air before knowing she wouldn’t leave until well past midnight after the rush of the holiday.

Your fingers dug into the skin of your thighs, dress having ridden up during the drive to expose the tops of them. The sun warm on them as your nails made crescent shapes in their softness, making your anxiety for the world to see. You were otherwise frozen, unsure of what to say, how to talk. He looked so good. Longer hair slicked back, sliver glinting in the sunlight at his temples and in the scruff of his face. A vaguely heart shaped patch where it didn’t grow in too tempting of a sight as you recalled the way it felt to pepper kisses there.

Joel’s eyes flickered down to your mouth as your tongue swiped out to wet your suddenly dry bottom one, his hidden hand finally shifting from behind his back.

You couldn’t help the little gasp that pushed from your chest as a boquet of flowers was revealed to be in his grip.

The colors of it shades of orange, gold, and yellow. A mix of chrysanthemums, sunflowers, and peonies all wrapped in a delicate tissue paper with a white ribbon holding it all together. In the middle of the front of it, there was something shiny.

“Thought it was an emergency, when she started blowing up my phone a few hours ago.” He finally spoke, stepping off the curb and up to the passenger side of the car. He extended the bouquet to you, hiding his face from you for a moment. You were able to make out the shiny thing in the middle.

It was a copy of the tape that had died the first time you had given Ellie a ride home. The one you couldn’t find anywhere online. The one you had almost just ordered a CD or digital version of. The one you had almost reached out to your father to ask about. It was impossible to find, to replace. But it was there, in the middle of a beautiful arrangement of flowers.

A sob suddenly wracked through your body, hands coming up to cup your chin and hold any others in as fat tears fell hot from your eyes.

“Oh no, no – this – this was supposed t’make you smile, darlin’, not burst into tears.” Joel quickly lowered it, moving it out of view of the windows frame and pulling it back behind him. “I’m so sorry, I – I was just trying to do somethin’ nice for ya on your special day.”

You hiccupped as you reached out a hand in a weak wave, wiping at your cheeks with the other.

“No, Joel, it’s…it’s really sweet of you to do this. I just…I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you do, you deserve everythin’, darlin’.” He reached through the open window and gently placed the bouquet down on the passenger seat. Molasses eyes catching yours as he offered you a weak smile and a nervous display of his fingers slinking his hair back. “Just wanted to do somethin’ for you today. I didn’t know last year and well, this year I do.”

“Joel…”

“Don’t need anything from you, really. They’re for you and that’s that.” He shuffled on his feet, watching as the breeze ruffled your loose hair and the fabric of your dress, sleeves flowing in the wind, the shine of your necklace in the sunshine.

“Thank you, really. I- I appreciate it.” You reached over to tug the cassette from its secure spot. Turning it over in your hands, taking in the scratches on the plastic of the case. The memory of looking over the massive collection he had displayed in one of the guest rooms, the small shelving unit he had made himself to store all the tapes he had previously kept in boxes in the garage. “Joel, this is from your collection, I can’t-“

“You can ‘n I wanted to. Ellie told me yours got ate and I don’t listen to the tapes much these days, just the vinyl.”

Voice gone and heart beating fast, you nodded. Feeling the urge to lean over and pull him into the truck to drive around for hours and listen to the reverent offering in your hands. But he had a holiday menu to get back to and you had a new recipe to try out. Each on their own and in different worlds.

He patted the window sill twice with a wide palm before he was turning away and disappearing back inside. You watched him go, heart urging you to call out to him while your mind told you it wouldn’t ever be that simple again.

Friends had come and gone, sharing dinner and gifts with you. Crappy movies and good liquor, laughs abundant and feelings so alive. The kind of day that reminded you that you were alive and well. The kind of day that made everything else worth it, small moments tiding you over until you could feel like full and bright again.

You stared at the flowers until the alcohol in your system blurred them, the colors running together and dimming as sleep pulled you under in the late hour. The tape playing through to the end before the machine finally shut off, blanketing you in your passed out state.

You would stare at them, as if they were pulling your attention every time you were in the kitchen or the living room. Choosing to hide away in your office or upstairs when you were home where they were out of site. When they began to wilt and dry up, you moved them to the back patio, not able to through them out but not able to reach out to the man who had gifted them to you.

Finally removing them from the vase and cleaning it out. You bagged them up and left them on the counter to deal with after class. One that went by in the blink of an eye, almost like the day was rushing toward something. Rushing you toward something. The slow thrum of…something deep in your bones as you engaged in the discussion, leading it back to the focal point if it got too off tangent.

The routine of giving Ellie a ride one that hadn’t been prevalent lately since her car had been fixed and the end of the semester rolled around. But today it seemed to be one of the things that time was ushering you toward. Driving Ellie home with post class treat of milkshakes this time, the weather beginning to inch toward the dry heat that was prevalent most of the year.

“Thanks again! See you Thursday, professor!” Ellie hollered over her shoulder as she all but tore out your truck and ran towards the front door. By passing the scene of Joel stood in the driveway, garage open behind him once again.

“I better! You have a final!” You hollered after her, no real malice in your voice.

She whizzed past Joel who was stood at the front of her car, hood open and engine block exposed to his perplexed expression. His hands were on his hips, a wrench in one and a screwdriver in the other. He was looking down into the exposed parts with a look you couldn’t quite read from the curb but when he spotted Ellie he called after her.

“Babygirl, I don’t see anything wrong with it. You said it was making a rattling sound, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah! A rattling sound.”

“From…where, exactly?” He turned a furrowed brow to her but she was determined to get away from his prying gaze, scurrying off without any more words. Her bag thumping against her shoulders as she rushed toward the door.

You had been so focused on watching her nearly trip over the steps leading to the front door that you didn’t notice Joel rise from his spot tinkering with something on her car and approach the side of yours.

“Hey there,” His cautious voice greeted you too close through the open window.

“Oh jesus, fuck! Joel don’t do that!” You startled so bad the seatbelt locked up and tightened around you, preventing you from taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Shit, sorry. Thought you saw me comin’ over.” A sheepish rub of his hand along the back of his neck, had your eyes roaming over the picture he made in the frame of the open window. Perfectly fitted, as if he should be on the inside of the truck beside you instead of standing outside of it. Close, but not close enough.

Quiet fell over the both of you, Joel looking into the cab of the truck, grease and oil marring his beautiful skin and white t-shirt and you gazing just to the right of him, not able to directly do so now that his attention was focused. The words shared between you both, all of the good, all of the bad, and all of the confusing floating in the heavy air between two people who had lived far too much in such a short amount of time. Echoes of everything passing in the charged air between you both.

Your name being uttered had your eyes glancing at his, the sun lighting them up into a bright hue and your heart fluttered in your chest. You held his gaze for a few seconds, heat creeping up your neck from the pulse of warmth that only he could cause filling your chest.

“Alright, well…thanks for bringing Ellie home.” He reached a handout to pat the side of the truck before shoving away.

“Hey, Joel, wait…” You leaned over, hoping that the words in your throat didn’t get stuck. When he turned quickly back to you, there was a hopeful pinch to his features, lips pursed as he waited with bated breath for you to continue. Taking a deep breath, you locked eyes with him again, keeping up the connection. The hope that glinted in them helped the words to flow from you in a quick push.

“Do, um, do you want to grab a coffee sometime?”

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