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The Moonlight Goddess.
✩࿐ summary: the toy that got tucked away, would eventually come back out to play.
warning(s): chapter 48.2 manga spoilers, unedited. wc; 3.2k
pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader
a/n: caught up on the manga, feeling incredibly deranged. i will Not be speaking about chapter 65 as that was the craziest experience i've ever had at 1 am. also, i'll be reading the light novel soon :)) anyway, i hope you enjoy this random thing i cooked up.
part ii m.list ao3
WHEN MAOMAO SUGGESTED JINSHI TAKE THE PLACE OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, YOU WEREN’T ENTIRELY CONVINCED.
Sure, your master was a beautiful man who had won the lottery of genetics. But you weren’t sure if he could convince beautiful western women that he of the same level, if not above, as them. It wasn’t a slight towards him. A lack of confidence in his abilities. But the mere fact that this issue itself was presented as nonsense. Achievable for a god, perhaps. But not for someone as simple as Jinshi.
It’d been 50 years since the last time the convery had last visited and spotted this beautiful woman. Surely, these girls were aware of the effects of time and how… unkind it could be to some?
It all smelt bad.
“Uh, Maomao, are we sure this is the absolute best approach for this matter?” You had asked as the three others had come to some general consensus amongst each other.
Maomao had stared at you flatly and, for a moment, you ponder if she even knew who you were. “Have you ever dealt with unruly women, Y/N?” She asked in her usual monotonous manner.
You blinked, expression equally as flat as you regarded the younger girl for a beat. Her time at Jinshi’s home had been spent, primarily, with you and Suiren. It was fond to look back on, but the two months had been stressful and the girl was rather difficult to work with. She drug you around on one or two of her little investigations. Much to the disdain of you both. The only compliment she paid you in that time was that you were quick on your feet and able to keep up with. Something that you guessed wasn’t common.
Yes, you are rather unruly, Maomao. Was the reoccurring and unkind thought that passed through your mind.
“I’ve dealt with my fair share of unruly people.” You opted to answer instead.
The girl raised an eyebrow, “Women?”
You deflated, “Many.”
Unfortunately, being Jinshi’s maid had meant you had your encounters with women who, blinded by their fondness for him, would attempt to make random walk-ins. Something strictly forbidden unless it was the upmost emergency. Despite them being the ones in the wrong, it was usually you who suffered the brunt of their abuse until Gaoshun finally decided to inquire what was wrong.
You were quite used to unruly women.
Unknowingly, you'd guaranteed your place in Maomao's plan.
She placed her fingers against her chin, eyes squinted on you. "Do you use makeup often?"
You blink, a weary frown on your lips. "What?"
"Are you familiar with makeup and hair, Y/N?"
"Of course I am." What did she take you for? A lazy uneducated lady?
Maomao grinned, something that was dark and twisted, and you felt like you had somehow stumbled into a terrible trap. "Wonderful, you'll help with Jinshi-sama's makeup!"
"Wha- no, I-I have my--" You attempted to decline, but were quickly cut off.
"That's a great idea," Jinshi spoke up, looking rather delightful as his eyes moved to you. "No one I would trust more with this."
Seeing the glint in his eyes and the kind smile, you knew you could no longer remove yourself from this plan. With a bowed head, you turned to Maomao, prepared to receive your duty.
You suppose this is how you ended up here. Maomao and Gaoshun out to find an outfit that would suit the Moonlight Goddess. And you awfully close to Jinshi's face as you carefully apply the eye makeup.
Silently, you were thankful that he had his eyes closed, as his violet eyes endlessly and innocently staring back into yours would surely make your heart stop. The work had been silent for the most part. The both of you uttering only what was needed: close your eyes, please look up, tilt your head to the side. It was the easy back and forth you both fell into.
It made you realize that most of your companionship with Jinshi had primarily been in silence. You simply deciphering exactly what he wanted from the twitch in his brow or the look he would shoot. It'd never really been on your mind before. Although, it had always been an easy agreement between you that shouldn't be brought to question or pondered upon too much. Ever since the both of you were children. Ever since you were just being trained for the duties that would be carried out in the rest of your adult life. You'd both just been in this tiptoe waltz that carried you through life.
He didn't pry too much into your personal dealings and you never questioned his demands as your master.
Life was, in all ways, easy.
But still, you felt as though this plan was toeing a line. Asking too much, underestimating the intelligence of another.
You supposed Maomao was like that and Jinshi would easily follow her word.
Maomao. Jinshi. Maomao and Jinshi.
They are quite the duo recently. You knew it would be nothing good the moment he'd called for her in Lady Gyokuyou's with that glint in his eyes. The eagerness and curiosity similar to that of a child. The way he sought her out at any given opportunity. If you had to guess, you would say Jinshi is rather fond of dear Maomao.
It made you sigh heavily, your eyes narrowed on the liner that looked a little wobbly.
"Any mistakes, you can just retry, don't stress yourself." Jinshi spoke, assuming that your sigh was related to the unsteady line rather than the trail of thoughts plaguing your mind.
You blink, eyes focused on the kind smile that stretched over his lips. A slight pitter-patter took your chest. "No worries, Jinshi-sama, I won't ruin your looks." You shoot back, softly.
Jinshi's eyebrows raised, a soft snort released. "Oh, really? Are you teasing me now?"
"I do have the ability to joke here and there, sir."
"You barely do anymore. Joke, that is." Jinshi observed, a subtle frown on his lips as you applied a bit of glimmer to his eye lids. "You're very serious now, very on edge."
"These are serious times, Jinshi-sama." You replied back smoothly, feeling an indescribable ache in your chest. "I'm sorry if I'm not entirely entertaining."
Jinshi's frown seemed to deepen. And, suddenly, his fingers were wrapped around your wrist and his eyes were open to reveal the clandestine violets that glimmered into your very soul. His hold felt warm and all encompassing, a disorienting welcoming feeling that made you falter in your work. Frozen, you offered him your undivided attention as he appeared to struggle with himself. gave him your undivided attention. His brows were furrowed and the frown on his lips was entirely too childish for the man he claimed to be. His lips parted and he released a sound akin to frustration. He huffed and huffed and huffed. Then he stared into your soul-- still, he couldn't seem to find the proper words for his thoughts.
One of the many things that Jinshi struggled with often is that he simply had a greater outlook on life while being so terribly confined. A childish optimism that should've left him once he was grown, clung to his soul desperately and gave him a more bountiful outlook on people and life. He knew the risks, he knew the dangers, he knew the nastiness of the world, but still stayed kind.
You know it was one of the many things his mother tried to change about him. That and his attachment to things. That was something you'd encountered first hand.
"You have your reservations about this, I can tell."
When he spoke, you weren't entirely sure what he'd say. There were times he was too insightful, too smart for his own good. It used to amuse you, now you only worried when it'd come across as unseemly.
Jinshi stared up at you, glittering eyes kind and approachable, his fingers squeezed gently around your wrist. "I don't want you to feel like you can't speak your mind." He continued as if he had no idea who you were. What you were. What you were to him.
Your gaze bounced between his own, a small frown breaking the perfect exterior you always desperately kept up. Maybe he was still stuck in the past. Maybe he was still enchanted by who you both used to be to one another.
The past was usually more lovely than a future unseen.
"I'm actually told not to voice my mind."
"By who?"
"Everyone."
There's a moment where Jinshi looks as if he's remembering something. Something distinct and obvious. Something that he had completely disregarded in the back of his mind for whatever reason, for however long. It must be pleasant, to not be constantly reminded that the people around you are paid or contracted to be by your side. Must be nice to have a choice.
Master. Servant. Master and servant.
That is all you and Jinshi shall ever be.
"I see," He uttered, eyes briefly tracing the tiles on the floor before fluttering back up to you with a new spark of determination. "But I'm ordering to speak your mind! Freely!"
You stared back flatly in return. Was he oblivious what freely meant? Ordering me and then saying it's of my own volition can't both be true.
Jinshi would put you into early death.
"Well, I, uh," you found his eyes to be too vibrant, to be staring too intensely and too welcoming. You turned your gaze away, desperate to grab some type of bearings over yourself. But, alas, his hand was still wrapped around your own. His skin scorched yours, tainted it with the warmth that was all his. "I think that this plan will not go entirely as you all hope."
"Is that so?" His voice is like a smooth honey, soft and all too endearing.
You hum, nodding, "Yes, uh, I believe they want you to fail, sir. And to have a rather unsavory thing to report back." Jinshi simply hummed in response. You could feel his eyes almost stroking against the side of your face. "I just think that they won't react the way you and Maomao hope they will. This is no slight to your or her intelligence, of course. Just a mere observation."
"I know what you mean, no worries." Jinshin's thumb was now slowly and softly stroking the butt of your palm. A soothing action that brought your eyes back to him. Captured in the way he serenely observed you. "What exactly about this makes you uneasy? Maybe I can ease you."
It didn't sound like an offer, but a promise. If his words weren't enough, his eyebrows were drawn together in careful contemplation. He wasn't going to walk away from this conversation without you both reassured in some capacity.
"What if they want to talk to you?"
Jinshi might had fair and delicate features, and a soft voice, but it wasn't nearly feminine enough to pass. If anything, they'd grow more suspicious. Then they'd report back about what a joke they all were and then Jinshi could suffer some type of punishment for his embarrassment. It wasn't that you were too pessimistic or didn't believe in the little group, but that the women's request felt bad all around.
A set-up if anything.
So, you took a deep breath and focused on that reassuring circle being drawn into your skin as Jinshi contemplated this for only a moment.
"Then I'll have the apothecary cover for me." Jinshi smiled, all too bright and all too reassuring. "We've already decided that I'll swim across the pond-- give me a vanishing effect and she'll deter them elsewhere."
You furrow your brow, all too worried, but bow your head instead of voicing such. "Of course, I have no doubt in you, Jinshi-sama." You reassure.
There was a beat of silence, then, "You're my oldest friend, you know?" You tense. Frozen into you bow, your wide eyes stare endlessly at his feet. His tone is tender, soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if he should be speaking these things aloud. Yet, he continued. "You're the only one, beside Gaoshun and Suiren, that has stuck by me without judgement or doubt. I thank you for that, but I also fear that we've grown apart."
"I suppose we have." You uttered, trying to ignore the clench in your chest.
"Even as children, we started to grow apart." He continued to observe.
Because of your mother. Because of her fear that you'd end up like him, like your father. That disgusting and vile man. How could she not know you'd never be like him?
There was a day, a very distinct day, that you and Jinshi had been separated for "his own good". Your birthday. You had waited him eagerly in the main courtyard, being able to slip away from your duties out of kindness from Suiren. You waited and waited, until Gaoshun had approached. His expression downtrodden and dark. He informed you that it was no longer proper for you to play around with the boy you so dearly adored. Said his mother commanded it.
If he plays with a toy too much, take it from him.
You used to be bitter, resentful, and angry over it. Only eight-years-old, you had clung onto any companionship you could and he had given the illusion that he'd be there forever. Until he wasn't. Until you were a toy to be tucked back into the chest, forever forgotten with time.
He would be there forever, but you only merely a pawn for him to use as he pleased. To do work and to never grace the same level as you had when you both were only children, not yet exposed to hierarchy. Pure and innocent.
Now, you were mere servant and master.
Finally, you willed yourself to pull away from his hold, turning around to pick through various hair products. "It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. We're no longer children."
"Hm."
As you reached for a brush, he pressed against your back. His hands coming to rest against your own with a delicate, featherlike touch. He was suddenly surrounding your ever sense. His warmth enveloping you into a hug that was almost earth shattering. Your lips parted and your eyes wide, you tensed as his lips brushed against the top of your head.
"I think of you often," his words are a whisper against you and your eyes, if possible, widen further as you almost lean back into him. "I sometimes wish I could just reach out and...and hold you, like we used to. Is that so bad?"
"Jinshi-sama, this is rather inappropriate!" You whisper back, not daring to look back at him in fear for how quickly you'd crumble.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating from his chest into your back and sending various chills down your spine. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, then please, tell me."
You don't open your mouth, as much as you wished you would deter him, you were rather eager to keep this up for a moment longer. To have something to think about and something to cherish later. Surely, this wouldn't happen again.
Instead, your attention goes to keeping your heart steady as Jinshi gently turns you around. His eyes heavy as he stares at you earnestly, lips quirked up barely. Your hands came up to clutch his forearm, gently squeezing as he did the same with your shoulder. You felt your heart stammer and a sweat collecting on your brow, this was definitely something frowned upon. To be so close and to breathe his same air-- as he exhaled, you inhaled the rich oxygen.
Suddenly, Jinshi's eyebrows furrowed and his fingers reached out, gently tucking some hair from your face. "What did they teach you to make you tremble like this?" He whispered it to himself but, thanks to your proximity, you heard it.
It made your ears redden, your lips pressed together. Did he really not know?
Before you could even speak, the door to his room were opened. Both your heads snapped to the door where Maomao and Gaoshun stood, both varying degrees of expressions on their faces that brought shame to you both. The four of your frozen in your respective places, staring at one another dumbly. Your hold on your master slackened and Jinshi took that as a sign to move first.
Jinshi made a rather odd noise, jumping away from you, face red and wide awkward smile to the two at the door. "Did you find the goods?" He asked as he approached, nervous fingers moving about.
Maomao, bless her soul, decided to ignore whatever it was they had walked in on, moving forward with a bundle of things in her arms. "Yes, Jinshi-sama."
You nervously pulled yourself from the table, turning your back to the three, hoping to conceal the red hue on your face. You really, really, hoped that no one would say anything.
Your hopes were tarnished as Gaoshun stepped up beside you.
The man was family. He'd been there for every milestone, or the rather unruly years when you found yourself in trouble more often than not. You'd grown accustomed to reading into his expressions more than his words. He was more open there, his only weakness.
That's why you withered when you saw that aghast expression on his face. The glimmer in his eyes that said it all-- he knew what was happening.
You ducked your head at the same time you heard Maomao ask, "Why isn't your hair done?"
You mustn't get ideas above your station. You are there to serve your master. Nothing less, nothing more.
That is the first thing that they taught you when you were "of age".
You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.
That's the second thing they taught you.
There were many things that contributed to your regression. That made you cower away from who you used to be. Going from a loud troublemaker to the polite, obedient lady that lived to serve her kind master.
But as you watched Jinshi, or more correctly, the Moonlight Goddess dance elegantly at the edge of the pond. As you witnessed the light hit just right an illuminate him in a way that would send even the most beautiful angel into a rage. You realized one thing.
You would never tell Jinshi of those things.
Someone as beautiful and perfect as him, untouched from the life that you lead, shouldn't be exposed to the things he confined you to.
All you could do was gaze upon the Moonlight Goddess, utter your most daunting praises and wants, and tuck it all away.
You mustn't get ideas above your station.
You were a lowly maid after all. Someone so dignified and beautiful wouldn't settle for you.
"My hair is still wet!" Jinshi's voice bounced off the walls, a scowl etched on his face.
You bowed your head as you entered, towel tucked in your arms. "I have a towel for you, Jinshi-sama."
As you ruffled his hair with the towel, watching his shoulders relaxed you thanked the Moonlight Goddess.
A coward like you would never belong with a Goddess like him.
#jinshi x reader#apothecary diaries#apothecary diaries x reader#jinshi#Kusuriya no Hitorigoto x reader#Kusuriya no Hitorigoto#jinshi x you#jinshi x y/n#✩࿐ t writes
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-ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ-
pairings: M. Kaiser x male! reader
warning(s): Kaiser, a teensy bit of angst, fluff, enemies to lovers (kinda), a little bit of cursing
a/n: this is pretty much self indulgent. i thought of a tall reader when i was writing it, although i’m not as tall as Kaiser lol. the Kaiser brain rot is real T_T this looked way better in my head
wc: 2.4k
!not proofread!
nobody infuriated you more than Michael fucking Kaiser.
not only did he pretend to be superior to you; he looked down on every walking, talking, living creature. he never failed to make your blood boil, especially, when he spoke to you like you were nothing more than a peasant, born to serve him. you were a calm, level-headed person; but even you found it difficult not to punch that shitty smile off his face.
you felt like you had won the lottery at having the worst luck. you just so happened to live in the same building as him; just on different floors. you couldn't count the number of times you had taken the stairs to your apartment floor, just so you won't run into him at the elevator, or when you would parked your car far from your block, just so you wouldn't run into him in the morning when he was leaving for practice.
---
your hands were shaking, the rational part of your brain begging you to not throw a punch at the man standing before you. taking a deep breath in, you sighed. he deserves that punch, but you were better than this. better than him. swiftly turning away from him, you continued to search for your favorite cereal.
you had the misfortune of running into him during your monthly grocery shopping. and now he wouldn't leave you alone. why was he even here? it wasn't like he was buying anything. at least not anymore. he had left the shopping cart in the milk aisle when he spotted you. seriously? wasn't this dude some famous soccer player? shouldn't he be at, i don't know, practice or something?
"so? what do you say?" he asks with a charming smile plastered on his face. "no," you replied without looking his way. what was he asking you anyway? you really weren't listening to him. you missed the way his smile dropped a little, but he was determined to get you to come. if Michael Kaiser was anything, it was stubborn.
"why not? i'm even giving you the vip tickets," he said in a way that almost sounded like a whine. you turned around to face him and almost regretted it when you saw his smile widen a bit. you blinked at him, confused out of your mind. tickets? to what? a game? was he inviting you to watch his game?
"tickets to what?" you questioned him with a small tilt of your head. and the worst part? you looked genuinely confused. Kaiser visibly deflated when he realized you weren't paying attention to him. he regained his posture quickly before bobbing his head up and down in a form of a nod, "it's next week. saturday. and you have to come."
taking yet another deep breath, you turned around, dragging your cart with you. was this guy seriously ordering you to come to his game? even the slightest of a chance of you going to his game was just yeeted out of the top floor of the tallest building.
"hm? (name)?" and he had the audacity to follow you around like a puppy after all that. he put his hand on top of your shoulder, trying to turn you to look at him. your hand was gripping the cart like your life depended on it. well, technically a life did depend on it. not yours, but Kaiser's. you swear you were so close to killing him.
you swatted his hand away, quite harshly, leaving him behind. he watched your back, before you turned to a different aisle, completely disappearing from his sight. looking down at his hand, Kaiser could see the red mark left behind. it slowly was beginning to sting too. ignoring the pain, he stuffed his hands in his pants. he walked out of the grocery store, with a frown on his face. the things he came to buy were long forgotten. a single question lingering in his mind, did you really hate him that much?
---
days went by and it had been suspiciously quiet all week. it almost felt too good to be true. it was finally saturday. the weekend was here. phew, finally you can relax now. no more dealing with people. you came back from your morning run to see a white envelope tucked in your gate. gently tearing it, you looked at the contents inside of it. they were tickets to a soccer game. Bastard München vs PXG?
you searched your brain to figure out why that name sounded so familiar. ah-ha! you remembered it now. bastard münchen was the team your annoying neighbor played for. as for the other...? you had no idea who they were.
looking around the corridor, you didn't see him there. he probably dropped this off when you went for your run. shrugging, you went inside your house. tossing it on your dining table, you went to take a long, and a very much-needed shower.
---
catching up on the sleep you missed during the week was probably your favorite way to spend your saturdays. looking at the time, you realized you had slept for longer than you intended to. it was already evening. you went to your kitchen to get yourself a drink when you noticed the tickets Kaiser so graciously dropped off this morning. you had honestly forgotten about it.
checking the time again, you realized that the game had already started a few minutes ago. it wasn't every day that you get vip tickets to a game. and it would honestly be a waste not to use those tickets. changing into something comfortable yet stylish, you drove off to where the game was being held. (you got your drink on the way.)
---
it took you longer than you had expected to get here. the traffic was loud and seemed to never end. you almost regretted leaving the comforts of your cozy home. now sitting comfortably in the chair, you were honestly impressed at the view you had of the field. these were some good ass seats.
it seemed like the second half had just started. the score was 3-2 in favor of PXG. a small frown unconsciously tugged at your features. was Kaiser losing? the match continued like usual. you watched the game like a hawk, your eyes never leaving the field. Kaiser had just scored a goal. you let out a whistle at that. honestly, you were impressed. he scored that goal faster than you could even comprehend what was happening.
as much as he didn't want to, Kaiser knew he had an image to keep up. so forcing himself to turn towards the stands, he plastered on a fake smile, even throwing a small wave toward the people watching him. his eyes drifted towards the vip section, more specifically, towards the seats he had booked for you.
he was really hoping you would come to his game. it would've meant a lot to him. but every time he looked that way, you weren't there. his mood continued to deplete the longer the game went on. he could barely focus on the game. even the coach had warned him that if he wasn't going to score soon, he'll be benched. and that's why he almost couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you, sitting in the seat he booked especially for you.
he didn't realize his smile switched from a fake to a genuine one. he continued to stare your way with a bashful smile stretched across his pretty features. his intense stare made you feel a bit awkward, as you tried to hide yourself from him by lowering yourself onto the seat a bit. reluctantly, you gave him a stiff wave, and that seemed to have brought him out of whatever dreamland he was stuck in. Kaiser doesn't think his cheeks have ever hurt from smiling so damn much.
---
the game had ended with Bastard München winning. you decided to wait for the stadium to clear a bit. because there was no way you were going to be smashed between so many people. like, be fucking for real; shouldn't they have made a separate exit for the vip's?
after god knows how long you were able to see the other side of the exit. you dragged your feet all the way toward the exit. you were probably one of the last spectators remaining in the building.
"(NAME)!" turning around just in time to catch a flying body, you stumbled upon the contact, barely able to keep yourself from falling on the floor. looking down slightly, you could see Kaiser with an annoyingly cute smile plastered on his face, looking up at you. he looked a lot like a happy puppy to you. you were sure his tail would have been wagging aggressively, if he had one.
"you came!" he exclaimed in a cheerful voice, still clinging to you. it looked like he still had the excitement left in him from the game. "i was bored," you said in a tone that matched your words. still, Kaiser didn't seem to get disheartened by it. whatever the reason was, you still came to watch him.
"let go of me now," you grumbled. Kaiser gave you a closed eye smile. 13 seconds. that's how long you let him hug you. it was a new record!
---
ever since that day, you had been seeing more of him. he still annoys you, but it's been bearable. you would never admit it, to him or yourself, but his presence has grown on you, and you even liked hanging out with him sometimes. only when he wasn’t being a menace though.
you sipped on the last bits of your favorite drink before throwing it away in the trash bin you came across. you were walking around the park in your neighborhood with the Michael Kaiser himself. it was almost midnight. you don't even know why you’re out this late. but when Michael knocked on your door and practically begged you to go on a walk with him, you had no choice but to do so.
it was a comfortable silence between you two. you liked it. Michael was still sipping on his drink, looking around the lamp-lit streets surrounding the both of you.
there’s another thing you've grown to like; his eyes. they were the prettiest shade of blue and when light reflected off of them, you would be hypnotized, to say the least.
a hand holding yours caught your attention, and you were dragged towards your right. "come on! we're going this way," he said with a smile adorning his features. even after dragging you on the path he desired, he didn't let go of your hand. you didn't complain.
he was walking a few steps ahead of you; his hand, now intertwined with yours, dragging you along. he looked breathtaking. quite literally. your breath hitched for a second there, before you recollected your thoughts and continued to be dragged around by him.
"a penny for your thoughts?" his calm voice brought you out of your daze. your eyes met his and he gave you a smile. "don't worry about it," you dismissed it quickly, and continued walking, this time dragging him behind you. he smiled at your intertwined hands and gave them a small squeeze.
---
"it's getting late. we should get going," you said looking at the sky. even though there weren't as many stars, because of the city lights and pollution, you could still see some of the stars that managed to shine through. after hearing no response, you looked at Michael from the corner of your eyes. you raised a brow at him. why was he looking at you like that? did you have something on your face?
"what are you thinking about?" you asked the blond man in front of you.
"it's not fair (name)," he replied still looking at you. you let out a confused sound at his weird answer. he chuckled at your adorable expression, "i'm just saying, that it's not fair how good you look doing the simplest of things. it's kinda annoying." what he said was true, kind of. just now when you were gazing at the sky, he couldn't help but stare at you, the light from the surroundings made you look other-worldly, ethereal.
the tip of your ears burned at hearing the sudden compliment from him. did that even count as a compliment? you tried to scowl but couldn't help but laugh at the irony. you thought the same thing as him. yes, you used to despise him, dare you say, even hate him. but the more time you spent with him, the lesser you hated him. how does that even work?
"what?" Michael asked with a confused expression. he was half expecting you to shut him out, walk away from him, anything but that. "you know what's actually annoying?" you asked with a small smile, amusement in your eyes. Michael loved all the attention you were giving him in that moment, that he didn't even register your question. "what?" he asks after realizing you were still waiting for his answer.
"you"
he pouted at your answer. way to ruin the moment (name), he thought. you let out another laugh seeing his pout, it wasn't every day that you would see the German pouting. holding his chin between your fingers, you turned his face towards yours. "wanna know why?" you asked the blond. your fingers were still grasping his chin, Michael noted. he gave a short nod. honestly, he didn't want to know. who would wanna know that the man you've grown to like thought you were annoying? get some common sense (name)! but the look in your eyes compelled him to agree.
"because i don't know what i wanna do when i’m with you," you sighed. Michael was utterly and completely confused. what did you even mean? your hand left his chin to cup his face. running your thumb over his cheekbones, you couldn't stop the smile that was threatening to break out. "you confuse me so much. i don't know if i wanna punch you in the face or kiss you stupid," you answered, observing his face for any signs of discomfort.
you watched his eyes widen. his face felt warmer than before. the emperor looked at a loss of words; when was the last time that happened? you mused to yourself.
"then do it." you looked at him, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else, "kiss me stupid (name)."
this was probably going to be the only time you would obey his orders. leaning towards him, you let your lips hover over his, "gladly."
#i love him sm#kaiser x male reader#michael kaiser x reader#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x male reader#blue lock x male reader#blue lock x reader#bllk x male reader#bllk fluff#bllk x reader#bllk x you#blue lock fluff#leo's works#leosxrealm
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𝒥𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒 boyfriend headcanons
he’s such a gentleman
offers you his jacket if it’s cold, offers to carry anything for you (this ranges to anything from weaponry to clothes), complimenting you like it’s second nature.
he drops compliments like they’re hellos. he’ll tell you your hair looks good, your eyes are pretty, your nose is cute, your outfit is spectacular, you look breathtaking, your smile is pretty, all that.
he’s quite blunt. he’ll say something without thinking about it at all. he does catch on if it upsets you, though, so he’s fast to apologize.
he has a sunshine smile. it lights up his whole face, his eyes crinkle up. his voice is on the deeper side, so his laugh is always so cute. it’s almost rumbling from him.
being praetor made him kind of stiff around people. he forgets he doesn’t always have to be on guard. if you put your hand on his shoulder or bicep, he makes eye contact with you and deflates. he’s thankful you’re able to bring him out of his head.
speaking of that, he tends to space out. he’ll think of where he is and how he got there, and his face id real intimidating when he does. easiest way to snap him out of it is to kiss his cheek. he gets all blushy.
he doesn’t mind pda. he’ll happily hold your hand and hug you around people, he doesn’t care. his hands are rough. he loves squeezing your hand in his and he’ll always hum contently when he does. he gives tight hugs that squeeze the breath out of you while filling you with warmth. he thinks kisses are more intimate, so he goes for cheek kisses around people, but they’re rare. he’s not a big cuddler, though sometimes he needs to hold you to reassure himself.
a lot of people crush on him, so people are often blushing and giggling around him. he pays them no mind, and it’s kind of funny watching them grow dejected. he’s also pretty dense, and often doesn’t even acknowledge them.
he’s not one to be jealous. he’s protective over you, though. if there’s someone he knows isn’t nice, he’s gripping your hand around them. he stands up for you whenever someone says something rude. if you were to ever get hurt during a fight, he’s checking your injuries and holding you reassuringly.
he gets so flushed sometimes. he doesn’t know how to respond to being flirted with, so his face turns red and his eyebrows furrow.
he has a resting brooding face. he looks scary like that, like if he’s reading and sitting like he’s angry, but you know better.
he’ll being you up in a conversation without thinking. someone could say something and it just reminds him of you. maybe they mentioned how the clouds look and he starts talking about how the two of you will hold hands and cloud-gaze.
dates are limited thanks to all of his duties. he’ll walk you around, holding hands, and you’ll chat about anything and everything. you two get hot chocolate and start a debate about camp gossip. he likes to teach you better fighting techniques so he knows you can hold yourself up.
he loves it when you ruffle his hair or play with it in some way, but he doesn't know how to tell you that. it calms him, makes him flash a smile. he’ll bring you a hot chocolate and you’ll grin at him and ruffle his hair, and he’s smiling like he won the lottery.
he’s down bad.
he fidgets a lot. he gave you a golden ring (it’s simple, just a band) and he’ll play with it when you hold hands. it’s specifically gold because that’s his thing.
he’s shocked you a few times when holding your hand. it mostly happened at the beginning of the relationship, when he was more nervous, but it’s much more rare. only if he’s frustrated or somethings on his mind.
the type to smile when he thinks of you.
teddy bear material. thank you for coming to my ted talk
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Big Boy Mode: Activated PART 2
Themes: rapid weight gain, humiliation kink, technology-induced weight gain (so like, magic weight gain but for sci fi nerds I guess)
Words: 1147
Part: 2/?
Still as a 432lb(195kg) man, Elliott left the SimNano shop on shaky knees. They were shaky partially because of the sheer amount of weight he’d subjected them to, but more so because he just revealed his deepest fantasies to a handsome man and somehow managed to obtain that man’s number in the process. His system was fixed now, it would be easy to go into a changing room or a toilet stall and deactivate SimNano, bringing himself back to his real weight and walking out of the shopping centre as if nothing happened. The thing was… He didn’t want to.
to the shopping centre in the first place was the hottest and most fulfilling experience of his life. Not being able to fit in an Uber, huffing and puffing with every step… This was all Elliott ever wanted. When he got it, he really didn’t think of using SimNano outside of the house, planning on living his fantasies out in private. What he didn’t realise, was that with the sudden addition of 300lb(136kg) he was unrecognizable. That completely removed the only worry he had; that someone from work or someone he knew would see him. If they did, they wouldn’t know it was him. After all, they’d just seen Elliott days ago, undeniably a thin 132lb(60kg) man. There was no way this immense, obese man waddling around and sweating as if he’d just run a marathon was the same person.
Before making his way home, Elliott stopped at a few clothing shops. Picking up some ON SALE items in a range of different sizes, styles and materials. He’d received more than a few suspicious looks as he purchased clothes clearly too small or too big for him, but he really couldn’t find it in himself to care. Suddenly, adorned in his armour of flab Elliott felt invincible, shameless, absolutely free.
When Elliott got home it was only 11 AM, he still had the entire day to himself before having to go to work at 8 PM. Feeling sweaty and sticky Elliott deactivated the SimNano and watched as his body deflated and shrank, making him thin within seconds, as if nothing had ever happened. He immediately missed the feeling of his fat flesh rubbing together and how hard it was to walk… But he didn’t think he could fit into his tiny shower with all that blubber, and he really needed to get himself cleaned up.
When Elliott stepped out of the shower he had a text message waiting for him.
There was no message, just an attachment, the file titled “Big Fun”. The was another file with a short tutorial on how to upload the program into his SimNano.
If there was something that could get Elliott nearly as worked up as the thought of being fat, it was tinkering with electronics, so he eagerly set to work.
The program was extensive and it took a while for Elliott to find all the right sub-engines and codes necessary for it to work, but when he finally did he felt like he’d won a lottery.
There were tens, if not hundreds of different programs and sub-programs.
He scrolled through the menu on his SimNano pad, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of data.
Finally, deciding to just go for it, Elliott clicked on the first one that caught his eye.
The program was titled “Spoiled Little Piggy”.
Elliott activated it and shivered with excitement as the tingling of the nanobots started to roil along his entire body.
Feeling like a kid on Christmas Day, Elliott looked in the mirror. He was maybe about 250lb/113kg, which wasn’t that big, but he was gorgeous. There was an ample, rounded belly with adorable, soft love handles and a part of perky, floppy tits. His ass and thighs were blubbery and wide and with a fascinating texture of thick cellulite. Elliott rubbed it and jiggled it, fascinated, wondering how Omar programmed the nanobots to create cellulite. But what Elliott loved most about this program was that he still undeniably looked like himself. His face was fatter and with an adorable double chin, but it was definitely him. He could imagine himself getting lazy and being spoiled by a dotting boyfriend, slowly softening and widening, filling out, looking… Exactly like this. Elliott rushed to where he dropped the shopping bags after arriving home. He rummaged through them and found a pink t-shirt and a pair of baby blue basketball shorts that would be just the slightest bit too small for this spoiled little piggy.
The shorts were digging into his soft love handles and fit very snuggly around his cellulite-ridden thighs, the shirt was obscenely tight, digging into his flabby upper arms and riding up his soft belly.
Heart hammering hard with excitement, Elliott snapped a photo of himself from a low angle, featuring a sliver of underbelly and highlighting his double chin perfectly.
Elliott: Testing your programs
He sent the message along with the photo to Omar.
Omar: What a cute little piggy. But bigger suits you better…
Elliott groaned as the mere thought of being bigger sent a shiver of pleasure through him. He fondled his fat flabby gut as he scrolled through the other programs.
One called “Apron” caught his attention. He had a sneaking suspicion of what that could mean, but there was no better option than to try for himself.
Taking off the clothes so as to not destroy them in the process, Elliott activated the new program. His body bloomed and unfolded into new, soft shapes like a flower in the morning sun. It was big, it was heavy, he could already tell even before the nanobots finished their job. Getting to the mirror was way harder and took an arousingly long time as he waddled and huffed his way across the room.
He was enormous, bigger than his biggest setting from the previous day. As he suspected, the name of the program referred to the belly settings; it was amazingly fat, soft and heavy, hanging in front of him almost to his knees, like a massive flesh apron. Although most of the weight seemed to have been placed in his belly, the rest of the body was nothing to frown about. Jiggly, swollen arms, not one but two rolls of fat under his chin. His ass was wide and drooping with the sheer weight of it. The overstuffed legs looked like shapeless sacks of flower and they jiggled with the slightest movement he made.
He sent another photo to Omar.
Omar: Are you hard under all that blubber, big boy?
Oh, Elliott was hard, alright. He didn’t even know it was possible to be so hard. And the fact that he couldn’t even attempt to reach his dick didn’t bother him in the slightest. It was, quite frankly, the opposite of a problem.
PART 1
#gaining fiction#weight gain story#weight gain#gainer fiction#gainer story#chubby boy#wg txt#wg story#wg text#bbm#bhm#bhm weight gain#fat bhm#male feedism#Weight gain story#Weight gain txt#Weight gain writing#wouldn't we all want to have a simnano
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I joined the hobby with my sister in early 2003. We both got our first dolls at the same time but I hated my doll (she arrived blank) and I decided to not join the hobby because I hated the doll so much. My sister stayed active, but passed away in 2016, in which I got my first doll back when they were passing the inheritance and arranging everything. That was my reintroduction into the doll hobby, to connect with my sister in a way.
Enjoyed making friends with people in the community, generally found the community peaceful and positive. I liked playing and taking pictures of my dolls and was interested in trying OC and the biographies people posted because it looked fun.
in 2022 the rest of my family passed away in a car crash. Its been difficult for me to accept this and I keep going into states of "if this" or "if that", and I tried to connect to the hobby but I couldnt escape reality. It didnt help that my fathers side of the family were relentlessly trying to put a conservatorship on me, have me put in a mental hospital and seize control of me, my assets and finances forcing me to go to a psychiatrist and take medication just so I can have freedom and avoid them.
I decide to try and cheer myself by going to a doll event on holiday and get a chance on a doll that is coveted by a niche in the community, as in limited to a few dolls a year that you can only get in person in a certain location on certain dates by a lottery. This is a doll Ive been obsessed with getting, having won two YJA auctions for her (you arent supposed to buy them secondhand or sell them), only to have the sellers always refund the proxy. I won this doll, on my first lottery entry and I feel nothing.
I met two people and one was extremely kind, and the other that I thought I had a connection with was just disappointing to meet in person. Gossiping about people the whole time, including the person that was also there with us, always talking about why they were better than so and so because they did x. Talked about entering the lottery many times but always losing and not to get my hopes up because they dont pick nonresident foreigners. She also suggested I bring in someone to increase my chances, but I said I wanted to play fair and she shocked me when she said good answer; like it was a trick suggestion or she was waiting for an aha moment.
The pure anger on her face when I was called the winner, and then the comment about them picking the lottery winner like I was supposed to feel bad that I was picked instead of randomly chosen was weird to me. I just brushed it off as me being paranoid. Its not jealousy of the doll, but I think anger that they picked someone she saw as unworthy (me). She even called me a whale, but I just ignored the comment because I know Im not even remotely chubby back then.
Then she said something about how maybe this was the universe giving me a present because my whole family passed away a few months ago (at that time). This was the first time I told someone in the hobby about my familys passing and I felt completely emptied? deflated? by the comment. They may have not meant it to be negative, but I felt repulsed. TBH, I havent even taken the doll out of the box since getting her because I keep remembering that comment made. They probably didnt mean much, but it stuck to me. I cant even look at the doll's box without feeling sick. I just remembered this because its been a year + and I saw someone being annoyed that a oneoff winner didnt post an opening even though its been a few months, and now I feel worse because its been a year of her in the box.I was just waiting until I felt happy again so I can at least have the box opening be special. I dont know what to do because that comment; the universe giving me a doll in return of my whole family dying? I cant disassociate it and I wish I never met that person because I feel like it has made the doll hobby unenjoyable to me, but I also know its unreasonable to think this way because Ive met so many that are so nice and kind. I think Im reading into the comment more than its worth. I honestly feel pathetic for letting it affect me this much.
Sorry for writing all of this. I just wanted to get it out of my chest so I can maybe get back to normal. My friends dont like listening to this, because Im a man and am supposed to be more mature, and I also dont like holding on to anger, and I dont usually do, but I feel angry and sad all the time, when I know I should be grateful because I have a lot of blessings. Some might know who I am, and I hope they dont take it as a sign of me needing help, and more of just me venting if they read all of this, that my disinterest in a lot of things isnt them, its just Im not back to normal and I want to be.
~Anonymous
Mod: I'm so sorry anon, you've been through so much. 💗
This person sounds insecure and jealous and imo you should dismiss everything they said to you, it was not coming from a good place. You deserve to have joy and happiness in your life.
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drawn arrows unseen
part 17 / previous installments/tags
Mason’s never watched the draft lottery before, not even the year he was drafted. But this year his heart beats faster with every card flipped. Sixth, Chicago. Fifth, Montreal. Fourth, San Jose. Third, Arizona. Mason paces around the room waiting for the lottery winner, chanting Anaheim, Anaheim, Anaheim in his head.
It’s Columbus.
Mason deflates. It’s so far away. But Anaheim has the second pick. Connor should go first overall. Connor deserves to go first overall. But – and Mason feels like a traitor for thinking it – if anything good can come out of Connor being an omega, maybe it’s him falling in the draft, just one spot. Falling straight to Mason’s team, straight into Mason’s apartment and bed and life.
It feels so right that he almost convinces himself it’s going to happen. On draft night, after Jarmo Kekäläinen announces Adam Fantilli’s name as the first overall pick, Mason sits at the edge of his couch, leg jiggling nervously, waiting for it.
It takes him a moment to register that Pat Verbeek didn’t say Connor’s name. Mason rewinds the broadcast and watches the pick again, just to make sure. It’s Leo Carlsson.
Mason throws the remote at the wall.
He’s not sure what he’s madder about: that Connor fell, or that he didn’t fall to Anaheim. Arizona snaps him up at third overall. Mason watches him hug his family and shed his jacket and walk up to the stage, hungry for any glimpse of Connor's face.
[Mason does not read any post-draft coverage, but Scott Wheeler and Chris Peters both predict Columbus and Anaheim will be sorry they passed on Connor because he’s an omega. Both franchises say they wanted a 1C with size, but everybody knows what they were really thinking. Pronman’s last mock draft predicted the first three picks correctly.]
Mason knows nothing good can come from a FaceTime request from Kent Johnson on the night of Connor’s 18th birthday, but he still picks up. Kent’s in a club, the music loud and the familiar ice buckets and velvet couches of bottle service visible as the phone swings around unsteadily. “Say hi to Mason,” Kent demands, and hooks Connor into the frame with an elbow around his neck.
“Hi?” Connor looks at the screen, puzzled. Mason can’t even tell if Connor knows who he’s talking to. HIs hair is hanging sweatily in his face and his shirt has one button too many unbuttoned. The club lighting casts shadows along his collarbones.
Mason wants to do things to him that would have Parliament holding a whole new set of Hockey Canada hearings.
“Happy birthday,” Mason projects, although he suspects it’s a losing battle over the music in the background.
“Thanks, man.” Something catches Connor’s eye off camera, and he ducks out from under Kent’s arm and disappears from the frame.
Mason glares at Kent so hard it ought to bore holes in the screen of his phone.
Kent snorts at him. “Don’t worry, nobody’s touching your omega. Last guy who tried to grind on him got an elbow in the gut.”
Mason opens his mouth to object, and then shuts it. Connor doesn’t feel like his omega, even if his entire body goes fuzzy with static when he hears Kent say it. Connor feels like a friend Mason played with once, who he kept in touch with for a while and then he faded away. If the thought of Connor still turns his insides upside down, maybe that will stop hurting, eventually. That’s how it has to be, with Connor headed to another team that’s going to hope for a bond with one of their own alphas.
(next)
#drawn arrows unseen#it's my story and so i get to suitably demote chicago#relatively suitably i mean#since the most suitable option of launching the entire franchise directly into the sun is not really within the confines of this story
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Brain Curd #73
Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way.
This is a follow-up to The Prom Consort (Brain Curd #22) - read that first!
Do you ever get the feeling you’re needed but not wanted? Lately, for me, it’s more than a feeling.
Claudia and Brie (though mostly Claudia) explained that they were angling for spots as prom royalty, and competition was fierce. If they wanted the votes, they needed to “make a splash” with something no one at our school had ever seen before: a triad. Or a ‘throuple’ as some are inclined to call it. Who could resist the idea of school staff scrambling to get a third crown for the prom consort? It’s too funny to pass up.
“What’s in it for me?” I asked, not bothering to swallow my chewed broccoli first. “Actually, better question - what’s in it for both of you?”
“Well…” Claudia said, “In case you’ve been living under a rock…”
“Stairs, actually.” I pointed up.
“… There’s a scholarship up for grabs. The richest guy in town is funding it. Five thousand dollars each to the prom king and prom queen.”
“Doesn’t sound like there’s any room there for me.” I ate another scoop of rice. “Or you for that matter, if there’s gotta be a king.”
“It sure doesn’t.” Brie shot a dirty look at Claudia. “But that’s just what’s on the posters. In the small print, it says five thousand each to all the prom royalty. Not ‘both’ and not gender-specific. Probably because they’re offering it to the prince and princess too.”
“So what you’re saying is, if we pull this off, we walk away with five grand each?” I pursed my lips and nodded. “Interesting.”
“Yes!” Claudia clapped her hands and giggled.
“And all I have to do is walk around holding hands with the two of you where everyone can see?”
“That’s right!” She bounced on her feet. “Are you in?”
“No.” I took another bite of my lunch. In the corner of my eye I could see how deflated she was by that simple utterance. It was delicious.
“Why not?”
“It sounds far-fetched to me, honestly.” I pointed my chopsticks at her. “And you know I don’t like that kind of attention. The money is nice, sure, but it’s no guarantee. Why go through all of that pageantry for what’s essentially a lottery ticket?”
Brie huffed. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this either, but there’s a power vacuum at the top. I have inside knowledge from the cheerleading squad. Chad and Stacy broke up this morning.”
I tilted my head. “No kidding?”
“It’s anyone’s game at this point.”
Chad and Stacy were the darling couple of the whole school. They’d been favorites for prom king and queen since they got together in freshman year. If they were no longer an item, that meant the couple with the best gimmick could easily win. And what better gimmick than being more than a couple?
I stood up and crossed my arms over one another to shake both their hands at the same time - my right hand to Brie and my left to Claudia. “I’m in.”
Being needed isn’t so bad, really. There’s good job security in that.
#NSC Original#brain curd#brain curds#writing#creative writing#writeblr#flash fiction#author#writer things#writers#writers on tumblr#writers of tumblr#writerscommunity#women writers#female writers#queer writers#The Prom Consort#The Prom Consort Ep 2#sorry it took so long to make a follow-up to this one#i need to be in the right headspace for it
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MY RED EYE WAS DELAYED
An excerpt from my May 2024 newsletter Dipped In Cherry:
Recently on a flaring afternoon walk I received an alert that my 11:40pm flight to the midwest was delayed by almost two hours. I texted “my red eye was delayed” to my sister, who if you’re following along- just had a baby. As the day continued and I postponed my already pwned packing schedule, I kept thinking; my red eye was delayed, my red eye was delayed. Taking out the trash, my red eye was delayed. Deflating a candle, my red eye was delayed. Watching the wind whisper, my red eye was delayed. What an attractive phrase used so pragmatically. I left for LAX later that evening with a hidden yawn. My head rested against the window, with swollen eyes tracing the moon along the hills, seeing infrared. Traffic was a breeze, minus the usual congestion in the final half a mile to the terminal. Ahead stretched a parade of burning taillights like hot coal. I suddenly realized; my red eye was delayed! What an amazing addition to the lore of the illustrated novel I’m writing: Party Store.
Party Store is what we call a bodega/corner store kind of shop where I’m from in Michigan. A space to get some water and chewing gum on the way to the bus. Where you pickup cigarettes for your friends who are running late. Somewhere to grab a six pack for your father, fix a mothers sweet tooth fixing, get the local newspaper, ice for the cooler, birthday cards, pop, lottery tickets, and condoms. Over many spring blooms, and romantic summer nights a party store can transform into a watering hole for the wild. It’s a place to stop along the way to wherever you’re headed next... Continue reading this months Dipped in Cherry HERE 🖤
Illustrations of the main cast of Party Store by moi
#newsletter#diary#original story#original characters#substack#dipped in cherry#illustration#digital illustration#scifi#fantasy#surrealism#queer art#gay#gay men#gay art#roses#space#writing#writer#illustrated novel
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I'm glad these June pieces are doing Big Numbers™, since these are pieces I put my whole pussy into, lmao. Though it's a lil bitter sweet, since the driving force for me going all out those 2 years ago was my mom getting sick.
(Gonna be sad on main for a bit)
I was very "i gotta step the fuck up" about it; Increased my patreon prices, invested a lot of money in a new tablet and laptop so i can try to really fucking make up for the fact she couldnt work. Was going to speed run Paying her Back for all she did for me.
Cuz it was a very common sentiment back in high school, where I and most other people were Black or some other minority. I had a convo with some classmates, just a random one about "what we'd do if we won the lottery."
One girl I always remember was like "First, Gotta get my momma squared off." and that was basically my Life Quest™ for the longest time
The most influential women in my family, my heroines, by this point have all passed away, ultimately working themselves to death, making sure their families were fed. Its horrible watching these important people waste away after I was old enough to recognize what was happening. Even back when my mom knew she was sick but didnt have a diagnosis yet, she was like "I just need to work 1 more month"
Idk. I was empowered for a couple months I guess. But it really wasn't meant to be. After she passed a few months later, I just started deflating into what I am now. A drifting husk of a woman who's main driving force for the last 15 years gone completely.
It takes a lot of energy to not think I've failed a main story quest or something, lmao. A lot of my confidence and faith in the world was utterly shattered in many ways, and the last 2 years were just me coping and trying to rebuild that.
There's been progress for sure, that much i'd loathe to ignore, as friends and my boyfriend's family have helped immensely, but I def still think its gonna be several years before im anywhere near my heyday.
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Sometimes I wonder what it would be like in the alternate timeline where I am instead a Thai citizen. Would being in a society where trans women are normalised (normalised doesn't mean no transmisogyny) allow me to understand my dysphoria earlier, or would I still have spent my early teen years violently asserting my false masculinity to avoid being a target. Would I have found a trans girl schoolmate who would commiserate with me about the horrors of puberty and about the crew cut we're forced to maintain, and would we suffer the beatings together or would we fight back? Would she be my first love? Or would I keep my mask on, relieved and determined to not be her as I watch the bullies torment her day after day?
Would I have confessed to my mother at an earlier age? I'd still be buoyed by her teaching me not to discriminate against kathoey because she had a friend like that one, then get deflated when it turns out she's only okay with kathoey as long as it isn't her own son. Would the physical presence of trans women in everyday life embolden me to insist on my identity to her, and perhaps inevitably to the rest of my family? Would she eventually relent, or would I leave home? Where would I go? Maybe I'd go to Bangkok, or maybe neighbouring Chiang Mai would feel far enough to reinvent myself in.
But let's say I'd go to Bangkok, seduced by the promised glamour of city life and perhaps the higher number of visible trans women there meant I'd find a community of older sisters to help me transition. How would I make an income? In Thailand, the military holds a lottery where the prize is enlistment. I might be a winner, but I first must have a medical checkup whether I want the prize or not (I think?) and be disqualified because gender dysphoria counts as mental illness. Suppose I have mental illness as a matter of public record, I would then find regular forms of employment very difficult to obtain. What's left would be either sex work or a cabaret.
I don't believe there's a cabaret act that includes death growls, but I wouldn't have to sing, the act would probably consist of lip syncing. And dancing. Could I actually be capable of dancing if I trained for it, or is my lack of talent innate? Or maybe I wouldn't get hired in the first place because I'm fat. It's sex work then. Although, not only am I fat but I am also hirsute compared to both the average Chinese and Thai man. Of course I can shave and tweeze and wax, but the hairlessness don't last long. I might not even be pretty enough to get paid for sex, not against a sea of working tgirls who, as the Thai cis see it, weave a more beautiful illusion of femininity than I ever could. Or maybe a curvy goth tranny is what the sex tourists didn't know they need until they see me. Or maybe I get lucky and wouldn't need to do it at all.
I don't know if I'd call myself kathoey, I'm too disconnected from Thailand in this timeline to understand what that means, but in the other timeline I would know. And whether it's something I might identify with or not, I might find sisters regardless. And maybe I'd find a lover, or even lovers too, though sadly they probably wouldn't be the same ones I love in this timeline. Maybe I do get to live, to actually live.
Maybe I get to be happy for more than a few weeks a year.
And I'd get easy weed too.
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The Morning After I Won the Lottery, http://selflessanatta.com/the-morning-after-i-won-the-lottery/
New Post has been published on http://selflessanatta.com/the-morning-after-i-won-the-lottery/
The Morning After I Won the Lottery
The Flow of Power
I need to engage your imagination to establish a shared vocabulary to help you feel what I feel. If I fail at this, I will lose you, and I don’t want that.
Imagine your body is a conduit for energy flow. Perhaps it’s a pipe that water flows through.
I often imagine it like a copper electrical wire with many individual strands, each flowing with electrical power, wrapped and intertwined.
The Tibetan Buddhists invested 1,500 years and the lives of countless monks to develop highest yoga tantra visualizations, far more intricate — and delightful to engage in.
See: Mahamudra Tantra.
Imagine the flow of energy through this conduit — Qi, if you like — as the sum of all your personal power that makes you want to do something.
The emphasis is on the doing.
Qi = Do.
It’s passion.
It’s Go energy, the feeling that pushes you to chase your dreams.
The source may be love, relationships, your religious beliefs, your committed intentions, and of course, money.
While it’s possible to have strongly flowing Qi without money (monks do it), for many of us, money is a huge component of the flow of life.
Concepts of fairness of distribution aside, it is what it is.
Pink Floyd is always worth a minute or two of your time.
youtube
Money is a Pecker Pump
Particularly for men, when I feel flush with cash, I feel strong, vibrant, and fully alive; when I’m broke, I feel weak, deflated, and, dare I say, flaccid.
Rich men are attractive to women for multiple reasons.
Selfish Desire for unlimited spending money is certainly part of it, but the more powerful reason is that rich men often have powerfully flowing Qi.
These men are vibrant, fun-loving, charismatic people magnets.
Who wouldn’t want to be around that?
Another Brick in the Wall
We all experience some baseline level of Qi based on personality, experiences, and life circumstances.
Before my change, my Qi was normal and as healthy as one can expect in a capitalist system that drains worker’s souls.
I didn’t struggle to get out of bed, I enjoyed some entertainments and pleasures, and I sustained good health. I was a standard brick in the wall.
Low Qi me, prior to empowerment, probably after stuffing myself at a Las Vegas Buffet. Love those jowls and six-pack abs. I believe I looked better when I was younger. Oh, how the Mighty have fallen.
Pink Floyd again.
youtube
My Qi was on a life-sustaining trickle.
When I got the news of my good fortune, my 20 amp wire got hit with 100 amps of power.
I touched a live wire, and I lit up.
Euphoria.
The Body is a Qi Conduit
Unfortunately, if you pull 100 amps of current through a 20 amp wire, it melts.
Physical effects accompany the increased energy flow.
A strongly flowing Qi, or any sustained strong emotion, also has physical effects.
My heart-rate sped up, which wasn’t surprising at first, prompting me to stop all caffeine intake, but in the weeks and months since, it still races with increased adrenaline.
I like it.
Abandonment of Financial Distress
My adrenals were accustomed to frequent pounding by fearful thoughts from financial stress. That is the fate of every struggling worker in a capitalist system (except in Socialist Europe, where they don’t.)
Financial fear thoughts arose out of habit, but since I stopped energizing fear with a feeling of truth or certainty, my mind dismissed the thoughts as meaningless information.
Without the energy to bring the thoughts to conscious attention, they slowly faded away.
I no longer hear or feel the Siren’s Song of financial distress.
That’s a plus.
Great!
My adrenals didn’t get a break though.
As the stress thoughts faded, every latent thought of fun, newly energized with intense Qi flow, began dominating my mind.
When my mind serves up non-stop thoughts of fun and excitement — and the only thing stopping me from acting is the doing — then my body responds with a constant flow of adrenaline.
It feels great!
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Recapturing my Youth
I started craving higher-energy foods in smaller amounts, and I lost about 20% of my body weight over a four-month span.
I look and feel like a young man again.
Even now, I struggle to eat enough. I don’t like feeling weighed down and slowed up.
Previously, I didn’t mind a Friday evening gut-buster with a 14-ounce rib-eye eased down by cheesecake, coffee, and ice cream (lubricate the slopes, right?)
If it weighed me down, so what? It isn’t like I had anything else to do or the Qi to do it. (See results in body photo above.)
Now, I recoil at the thought of a 2,500+ calorie blowout. That would stop me from having fun afterward.
Screw that.
The Beatles were popular when I was born. I’m old.
Home scale extremes 194 to 152
Doctor’s scale 186.6 to 158.2 (Based on times of measurement. Doesn’t capture peaks.)
Hover range, 158–160 home scale.
Diet and Nutrition
The internet is a cesspool of misinformation on health and diet.
Let me share a few simple observations that don’t require complex bullshit to understand.
Calories in minus Waste (defecation) equals calories available for Consumption (burning) in metabolic processes.
If Consumption does not equal calories available, the body will store some as fat and expel the rest as waste.
If consumption exceeds the calories available, the body will first try to be more efficient with what comes in, reducing waste. This is why restricted calorie diets often fail.
If the body can no longer extract useful calories from food, it will burn fat.
If you eat carbohydrates, your body produces a host of different digestive enzymes than if you consume fat and protein. Changing gears from carbohydrate digestion to fat digestion is very uncomfortable, which causes most people to abandon their diet. Staying in fat-burning mode all the time is preferred, even if all the fat comes from food.
Once you start burning fat, you don’t want to eat much food, particularly if stored fat burning is what you are attempting. Every calorie you consume is a calorie not taken out of your stored fat.
Fasting is good for the body. It burns fat and allows the body to remove toxins, generally through urine if you drink a lot of water, but sweating happens too.
Excessive fasting causes muscular degeneration, but that is way, way down the road. You won’t lose much muscle on a 5-day fast. I’ve done several. Don’t fear fasting because you believe you will lose your muscle mass.
You can’t drink too much water. You will pee it out.
Electrolyte depletion is a thing. Add salts to your water occasionally. It’s not as big of a thing as diet gurus make it out to be.
Hunger is a signal from the body that the stomach has finished digesting the last meal. How that signal is interpreted is completely up to you. Appetite is a phantom of the imagination.
A Hunger signal can be safely ignored.
Fear of Death shouldn’t be part of it.
How and What I eat now
When I was started college, the four food groups were candy, Coke, alcohol, and caffeine. I consume none of those today.
I east mostly eggs, lean proteins, fruits, vegetables, and greens, olives of all kinds, and yogurt. That’s it.
I love foods with natural water. Eighty Percent of my foods are found in the produce section of the supermarket.
Hat Tip Tony Robbins.
Fruits and vegetables provide more energy than proteins. I’m biased toward energy since my heart races much faster than before.
Bread and grains always make me drowsy. I refuse to eat them.
Basmati rice is okay, but starchy rices or raw starches of any kind put me to sleep.
Sugar, or foods loaded with processed sugars and fats cause flushing and sometimes nausea. I avoid those like the plague.
I eat 6 or more times per day, often in 100–500 calorie bursts. Rarely do I eat more than 500 calories at one time.
I only schedule eating if it’s with my family.
I never eat out of habit.
I never struggle with portion control.
Sorry, I think I will pass….
Feel the Body
My body improved because I was strongly motivated to improve it.
I maintained a disciplined habit of exercise for most of my adult life, but I needed to rely on reminders of health or vanity to motivate myself to continue — at least, I knew that much about self-direction.
But when motivation is weak, the results are similarly weak, but it was better than nothing at all.
When this change came, I suddenly found a thousand reasons to go to the gym and work out.
The workouts became painless and energizing.
I had to be wary of pushing myself beyond my aging body’s limits.
The mind was willing.
It was fun again!
I remembered those intense sessions doing heavy squats with my workout partner from 30 years ago.
I craved that feeling of complete physical exhaustion and deep personal satisfaction caused by pushing my physical limits.
Pink Floyd reminds us that making yourself Comfortably Numb through drugs or emotional eating is literally a dead end.
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Chakra Flow
I did notice several unusual physical effects that I can best explain using the concepts of Chakras, the language developed by Indian mystics from antiquity to communicate their internal subjective states.
I hope I don’t lose you here. Chakra’s aren’t something you either believe in or you don’t.
There is a detectable physical phenomenon that begs for an explanation.
If you don’t like this one, I’m open to hearing yours.
Failure to believe in Chakras doesn’t wish away the effect.
I assure you I feel everything I describe.
The Chakra system provides a useful framework for conveying these internal subjective feelings.
I use Chakras to tell you where to look and why for certain feelings or signs you should pay careful attention to.
There is no other way to cross the Ultimate Divide.
Qi Cleanse
When the intense Qi burst hit me, I lost my appetite. I attribute it to the extreme activation of the chakra in my solar plexus, pointing right at my stomach.
Over a few weeks, I had episodes of nausea and night sweats as my body expelled every flesh toxin I had accumulated over the years.
I changed sheets a lot.
I scheduled a checkup, but the symptoms, which weren’t in any way painful, had subsided. My GI doctor gave me a clean bill of health.
Prior to this experience, I had no idea that powerful Qi flow could, in and of itself, cleanse the body.
Good to know.
Give yourself a reason to live, and you will live a longer, healthier life.
Another valuable fact.
Simple.
Cool!
I am thankful for the years of heart meditations to prepare my body for the new flow, or it might have killed me.
My heart rate is higher, a necessity to fuel the body to execute on the Go energy coming from the Qi flow.
My blood pressure is low. The moment-to-moment experience of my body is stronger, like the pumped-up feeling after a workout, but all the time.
I feel young again.
Pink Floyd again. Careful, I should be locked away. The Lunatic is in my head.
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Fever!
Since my visions of the future were activated so strongly, the chakra in my forehead heated up, and it still runs a bit hot.
For weeks, I reveled in the relief of cold compresses on my forehead.
WTF is that?
A stress reaction of mine is to contract the muscles of my forehead and face.
Frowny face, with 11s.
=:(
It’s frustrating because people react to what they see, and my forehead says, “He’s unhappy.”
People think I’m upset when I’m jubilant, bouncing off-the-walls happy.
As I coped with the tingly sensations and the heat from the forehead chakra activation, I secretly hoped it would flatten those 11s.
No dice.
Did you notice I just attempted to justify my desire for botox to the world?
Vanity.
~~Giggles~~
In truth, the center of chakra burn is actually about 1″ higher than my brow, so it’s just off the top of the image above.
Fortunately, no discoloration or skin irritation.
It can happen.
Stigmata Burns
From a Christian perspective, I might interpret this one as a sign of my Jesus Juice.
Since empowerment, I’ve had notable tingling and discoloration in the center of my favored right hand, similar to those who experience Christian Stigmata.
Except that mine wasn’t caused by an extreme empathetic reaction to the Christ story — near as I can tell.
Their experience is valid, their Compassion Flowing so strongly through their Hearts, that their Empathy for Christ becomes complete.
They are Christ. They experience His pain.
It manifests in the real world.
They are spiritual Masters.
Pink Floyd again. Hey You, Can you feel what Christ felt?
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Your Guess is as Good as Mine.
For mine, which thankfully don’t bleed, I don’t actually have a clue. No ability to run an experiment, gather data, interpret results.
I don’t produce this on demand.
I observed four things:
No previous discoloration.
Coincidental arising implies cause and effect.
Persistence for long periods (It’s been months).
An ongoing phenomenon.
The sensation is so strong it warps and discolors the skin.
Prescription medications help with the symptoms, and it doesn’t bother me or my doctor.
It’s just one of those odd things that makes you go, hmmm…
Image of author’s right hand. Does anyone want to palm-read me? Ignore the index finger cut that’s healing. That was a moment of foolish inattention.
Of course, I do have my own theory about it.
I’m right-handed.
My right hand directs my Qi in the physical world.
I suddenly channel an outsized power to influence events in the world, and that Qi power flows out of me through the palm of my hand.
Interesting only to me: My golf short game, which relies on feel in my right hand, has been particularly sharp since Empowerment. Of course, I practice a bit more too.
A spot on the outside of my left foot was delayed by a few weeks. Do you have a theory on this one?
Left foot stigmata burn
Here’s what I chose to believe.
Chakras exit through the palms and the soles and in your Erogenous zones. ~~Giggles~~
The burn shouldn’t be on top. It should be underneath.
Perhaps this is all a delusion, and I have a skin rash that’s spreading.
Computer says no.
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David Walliams, Matt Lucas, You are comic geniuses! I’ve loved every moment of every performance you’ve ever done. The scene of Desire for a Senior Citizen is nearly too painful to watch I laugh so hard.
My doctor says no, too. I cover all my bases.
Louise Hay provided me with a clue.
The empowerment I feel moves through my family.
My left foot is my least coordinated, least-used appendage. Therefore, it is the weakest and needs the most support.
My wife’s Qi flow is also vital.
In the weeks following the initial empowerment, the connection between us manifested.
She is pouring her Qi into me.
It enters me through the burn in the photo, connecting to my weakest limb, where I need the most support.
I’m witnessing the initial burn of connection. When my body adjusts, it may go away. (Since I began this draft weeks ago, it has nearly cleared up.)
She supports me.
It’s great!
On second thought, since our connection can’t be severed, the mark may never go away.
Isn’t that a lovely way to look at it?
So, is my theory correct?
I don’t know. I’m spitballing here.
Consider this.
Believing it’s True pleases me; it doesn’t hurt anyone, it makes me closer to my wife, and nobody can prove otherwise.
Why shouldn’t I believe that?
It’s like believing in angels or fairies.
It pleases me.
Pink Floyd again. I wish you could feel what I feel. Wish You Were Here!
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Dry Mouth, Tingly Throat
This work (and the related one I linked to at the beginning) gestated in my mind for several weeks — I let my subconscious take care of that. I fed it the books it wanted but let it do its own thing.
Your subconscious mind can become your servant if you read the user’s manual.
You can decode the green gibberish in the Matrix.
Eventually, the physical symptoms of dry mouth and tingly throat told me that my expression chakra was fully opened.
It was time for the written Emergence.
I arranged life to allow the inspiration and craft to cycle without interruption until the first full draft was complete.
I left my house rarely. I did nothing else.
I drank a lot of water.
During the most intense week, channeling the deepest emotional pieces, I lost another 3 pounds because my stomach was upset and my Adam’s apple felt swollen.
I’m not a particular fan of this feeling, but I gladly pay the Polyhymnia’s fee.
Polyhymnia’s voice is fresh, but she recoils at any trace of ego and falls silent.
Introvert to Extrovert
I’ve noticed significant changes in my personality since my empowerment.
The most notable is that I am no longer a devoted introvert. Previously, I was a loner, probably due to the fact I was an insufferably arrogant asshole.
Since I woke up, I suddenly found I want to be around people and Give to them. Not money but time, attention, Love.
Unsurprisingly, people respond well to that!
It’s making me an extrovert.
Not something I expected.
Precision of Dress
Previously, I didn’t care what people thought about me or my appearance. I paid no attention to fashion or my dress.
I wasn’t awkwardly dressed (most of the time), but I just didn’t care.
After my experience, I suddenly had a strong desire to see precision when I looked in the mirror.
Not for anyone else but for myself.
My mind feels very ordered and sharp, and I feel compelled to express that on the outside to reflect what’s happening on the inside.
Again, it was not something that I expected.
Of course, precision dress with a snappy style appeals to people, which feeds into my becoming more of an extrovert.
Funny how that happens.
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Richard Prior (1940–2005) RIP. Loved your Work!
Brewster’s Millions
Richard Prior made a hilarious movie in 1985 about a poor man who stood to inherit a large fortune, but for one task: he had to spend a huge fortune without acquiring any assets in a short period of time.
By the movie’s end, he has lost all desire to spend money, which puts the remaining fortune in good hands.
In short, he needed to be emotionally prepared for the financial windfall to manage it properly.
No Money, No Problem
I contemplated that movie’s lesson often after Empowerment, and believe it or not, no spending spree.
Yes, more spending occurred than before, but we mainly acquired what my family previously wanted with immediacy. No deferring ductwork or removing grass from my yard.
We didn’t go on an aggressive program of lifestyle upgrades.
That was key.
Like most people, I previously managed my finances by spending everything that came in to create a lifestyle.
Post Empowerment, the inevitable and unending pull to spend and up our lifestyle concerned me.
I committed to no purchases over $10,000 to curb the urge. Of course, I violated that almost immediately when I bought my wife the Jeep she’s been wanting for several years, but that’s it. No more.
So far…
I still drive my white low-mileage 2003 Lexus LS worth less than $10,000.
Everyone else’s car is more expensive, which makes them cool.
I’m invisible to Pride. Cool owners don’t see me.
I cherish my car. Her name is Pearl.
She’s cute.
She brings joy to my heart.
I don’t want a new Bentley. I don’t want attention.
I’m not motivated by conspicuous consumption.
Marie Kondo I salute you!
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It’s all about my son
So where does all that money go?
Simple. It pays for anything and everything my special needs son wants to do.
All of it.
Where would it be better spent?
Attachment to Power
The clearest and most obvious sign that I am not enlightened is the fact that I am attached to my newfound power.
If, by some disaster, the annuity which empowers my Qi was lost — I think that would suck.
It would suck comprehensively, in every way, swallowing my Qi in the process. (It wouldn’t be that bad, but I certainly don’t want to lose it.)
I like feeling empowered. I do not wish to go back to feeling un-empowered.
I have a preference.
My preference would be to keep getting the firehose of cash sprayed on me for life, like I do now.
That preference. That is my attachment.
How strong is my preference? How much do I want to suffer?
They come in equal measures.
Enlightened, I am not.
Time is the Ultimate Limitation
When you overcome your issues with money, you come to see that Time is the limitation you can never overcome.
You only have so much time, and you never know when yours is up.
One of the most hauntingly beautiful songs about time comes from Jim Croce. Don’t go look up the lyrics. Listen to the music.
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Of course, any fans of Pink Floyd will remember that they addressed this issue too.
Pink Floyd again. Money and Time.
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But my favorite of all time is from Kansas, Dust in the Wind.
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~~wink~~
Anatta
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村上龍・イン ザ・ミソスープ
all vocabulary, misc grammar maybe
p6 敬遠 - keeping at arm’s length 治安 - public safety こぎれい - neat, trim, tidy 予備校 - prep / cram school
p8 目撃 - eye-witness 難航 - proceeding with difficulty 気の毒 - pitiful, unfortunate 援助交際 - paid dating 売春 - prostitution 割高 - fairly expensive 大晦日 - new year’s eve 手の負えない - too much to handle 口実 - excuse
p10 軍人 - soldier 証券会社 - brokerage firm つかみどころのない - vague, elusive 紳士服 - menswear, suits for gentlemen 二着 - second, runner-up 替わりばんこ - take turns
p12 ケチ - cheapskate, bad omen 仰々しい - exaggerated, bombastic 保護 - preservation 契約 - contract 納めに - closing / finishing up
p14 気さく - friendly, openhearted 無邪気 - innocent, simple-minded タチが悪い - malicious, ill-natured 名著 - famous book, masterpiece 出張 - business trip 発行 - publication 網羅 - encompassing, covering all of
p16 儲かる - be profitable 国際性 - internationality 資金繰り - fundraising, cash flow スケベ - lewd 区役所 - ward office 房 - bunch / cluster of
p18 客引き - barker, soliciting, luring
p20 抜群 - excellent, outstanding 連勝 - consecutive victories 儲け - profits
p22 せっぱ詰まる - be at wit’s end, cornered
p24 積み木 - toy wooden blocks
p26 あげつらう - find fault with, criticize 谷間 - cleavage, ravine 陰毛 - pubic hair マイコン - personal computer 制御 - control of / over 熱帯魚 - tropical fish ついばむ - pick / peck at
p28 つるつる - slick, smooth 希薄 - thin, sparse, weak, diluted 水割り - diluted alcoholic beverage 銘柄 - brand
p30 毛細血管 - capillary 不穏 - disquieting, threatening, unsettling
p32 運輸省 - ministry of transport ギャラ - fee paid to performing artists, appearance fee 手の打ちようがない - can’t to anything about it, don’t know where to begin with 神殿 - temple, shrine 聖火 - olympic flame, sacred fire 団体 - group, party, organization 武家 - samurai
p34 のけぞる - be taken aback 男根 / だんこん- penis, phallic 童貞 / どうてい- male virgin こわもて - fierce / frightening / tough look 性病 / せいびょう - STI センズリ - male masturbation しゃくはち - blowjob
p36 射精 / しゃせい - ejaculation シゴく - masturbate, stroke 伴奏 - musical accompaniment 鉄則 - ironclad / inviolable rule 勘定 - bill, check, receipt
p38 蔦 - ivy 手軽 - easy, cheap 物色 - looking / shopping around for 素焼き - unglazed pottery 陶器 - pottery
p40
旗 - flag, banner プレハブ - prefabricated building
p42 移民 - immigrant, emigration 子孫 - descendant
p44 おじや - rice gruel with veggies and fish
p46 のれん - short curtain hung at shop entrances 取り巻く - enclose, surround
p48 強引 - coercive, pushy ノルマ - quota, assignment 名誉 - honor, prestige 殺伐 - brutal, savage 司会者 - TV host, chairman 直筆 - one’s own handwriting
p50 商談 - business discussion, negotiation
p52 グラビア - gravure 守備 - defense
p54 石灰 - lime mineral 満塁 - bases loaded 言い回し - expression, phrasing
p56 釈然 - fully satisfied 係 - person in charge
p58 暴行 - assault (+sexual) 気を回す - read too much into things
p60 悩ましい - enchanting, seductive 滑稽 - funny ridiculous, comical まちまち - various, diverse, conflicting
p62 真珠 - pearl 利益 - profits, benefits 過労死 - death from overworking
p64 単身赴任 - intra-company job transfer away from one’s family 打席 - batter’s box 空振り - swing and a miss, vain attempt やかん - tea kettle 稼働 - operating, running (machine) 点滅 - flickering 収縮 - deflating 拡声器 - megaphone
p70 博打 - gambling, risky venture 覚醒剤 - stimulants
p74 ずるがしこい - devious, cunning 景品 - gift, prize
p76 楕円形 - elliptical shape 設計 - plan, design, layout
p88 本格的 - genuine, full-blown 胴体 - torso 枠組み - framework, outline
p90 でたらめ - nonsense, haphazard
p92 淫行 - obscenity 条例 - regulations, rules 施行 - enforce rules 敗北 - defeat, loss, setback 前頭葉 - frontal lobe 抽選 - lottery, raffle
p94 吹きさらし - wind-swept, exposed to the wind かじかむ - grow numb with cold
p96 さかりのついた - estrous, in heat まるっきり - completely (not) at all 注目 - attention, observe, notice 鋭利 - sharp, keen, acute
p98 洗い出し - exposure by washing away, finding out 懸命 - earnest 討論 - debate, discussion むち打つ - whip, lash, spur on, encourage 野放し - letting someone do as they please / uncontrolled
p100 ぞうきん / 雑巾 - dust cloth 切れ端 - fragment
p104 偏差値 - deviation value, standard score 極致 - culmination, peak
p106 突き当たり - end of a hallway / road 気さく - friendly, open hearted 素朴 - naive, simple unsophisticated
p108 切手 - stamp, postage 糊 / のり - paste, glue 指紋 - fingerprint
p110 警告 - warning 移す - change, swap 関知 - one’s concern, having something to do with
p112 自粛 - self-restraint 見せしめ - making a lesson / example of 宣伝 - promotion, publicity, marketing, advertisement 動悸 - palpitation, pounding (of the heart) 非常識 - lack of common sense
p114 ぐずぐず - slowly, dawdling, complaining ウマが合う - get along well with someone
p116 モヒカン - mohawk 放心状態 - state of absentmindedness / dazed 白状 - confession
p122 ~ようがない - no way / means to, impossible to
p130 疑心暗鬼 - once you suspect something then everything starts looking suspicious 誘惑 - temptation, allure 屈託 - worry, care, concern
p132 お辞儀 - bowing, to bow 昏倒 - swoon, fainting 街娼 - prostitute
p134 お見合い - formal meeting with a prospective spouse
p136 鑑別所 - juvenile detention facility 少年刑務所 - juvenile correction institution 筋金入り - staunch, hardcore 点滅 - switching on and off, flickering 一瞥 - a glance, glimpse
p138 端正 - clean cut, handsome
p140 崇拝 - worship, cult 騎士団 - chivalric order, fellowships of knights and stuff 接吻 - kissing 奏法 - (musical instrument) playing style
p142 収拾がつかない - out of control はがき - postcard (size) 師走 - twelfth month of the lunar calendar, december 素人 - amateur, unlicensed prostitute
p144 宮殿 - palace 予算 - budget あしらう - decorate, treat, handle 項目 - item, category
p146 入れ墨 - tattoo
p148 催眠術 - hypnosis
p150 コンパ - party, get-together
p152 気が紛れる - be distracted from tough feelings
p154 合板 - plywood 独特 - characteristic じゃれある - be playful
p156 常軌を逸する - go off course / aberrant / erratic, defy norms
p158 道徳 - morals, morality でたらめ - rubbish, nonsense 白ける - be dampened / turn sour (mood), become bored
p160 癇 - temper, nerves 癇に障る - get on one’s nerves, offend
p162 窮屈 - narrow, constrained, formal, uncomfortable 役作り - preparation / study for a role
p164 (顔を)そむける - turn (face) away, avert gaze 水商売 - night entertainment business
p166 電卓 - calculator しのぐ - endure, pull through ヒモ - man financially dependent on a woman, gigolo, pimp すり減る - worn down, reduced to のっぺり - expressionless / flat / featureless (face) 飢え - hunger, starvation
p168 交渉 - negotiations, bargaining 常連 - regular customer
p170 無縁 - unrelated
p172 さとす - to make someone understand a fault, reason with, advise, warn
p174 ため込む - save up, stockpile
p176 溝 - ditch, drain, gutter 勇者 - hero 瞳孔 - pupil (eye) 弛む - loosen, slacken
p178 前屈みになる - slouch, lean forward 嵌める/填める - to fit (a pane into a frame) 脹ら脛 - calf leg 伝う - go along, follow
p180 コールタール - coal tar 寸断 - cutting to pieces 失禁 - urinate involuntarily
p182 ふやける - swell up, soggy, sodden, lazy 眼窩 - eye socket 斑点 - speck, fleck 増幅 - amplification 態勢 - readiness, preparedness, attitude くり広げる - unfold めり込む - sink / cave into
p184 紛らわす - divert, distract with, change the subject, conceal なめす - to tan (leather, hide)
p186 炙り出す - expose, reveal, bring out into the open 有線 - wired, cabled ばたつく - to flap noisily, walk around being unable to settle down 蝋/蠟 - wax 脂肪 - fat, grease
p188 のけぞる - bend backwards 大股 - wide steps / stride 付け根 - root, base, crotch 歯茎 - gums 抽象 - abstract
p190 連携 - cooperation, coordination, link
p192 卑屈 - servile, subservient, obedient 棒読み - reading in a monotone, stiff / wooden delivery
p202 図々しい - cheeky, impudent 相場 - market price
p204 安らぎ - peace of mind, tranquility ゆだねる - entrust something to someone, abandon oneself to 斡旋 - goods, services 莫大 - vast, immense
p206 誘拐犯 - kidnapper 保証 / 保障 - guarantee
p212 おがくず - sawdust
p220 木霊 - echo, reverberate
p222 門松 - new year’s pine decoration 注連飾り - decorating shrines and gates with shimenawa ropes for new year’s 行き違い - crossing without meeting
p226 殺戮 - massacre, slaughter 不服 - dissatisfaction 抑揚 - intonation
p230 見通し - unobstructed view 屈める - bend, stoop 玉砂利 - gravel 水槽 - water tank, cistern, aquarium
p232 副都心 - urban subcentre 占領 - military occupation 空襲 - air-raid, air strike 排他 - exclusion 侵略 - invasion, raid 固有 - characteristic, peculiar 領土 - dominion, possession 廟 - mausoleum 除夜の鐘 - bell rung 108 times on new year’s eve
p234 地上げ屋 - landshark 漆喰 - mortar, plaster
p236 見張る - stand watch
p238 占拠 - occupation of territory 鉄砲 - gun
p242 滝 - waterfall
p252 断念 - abandon, give up 気が進まない - reluctant to
p256 起点 - origin, starting point 喘息 - asthma 気管支 - bronchial tube
p260 慢性 - chronic 過程 - process, course, mechanism
p262 昆虫 - insect, bug
p264 全貌 - full story / view ひざまずく - to kneel 露天掘り - open-pit mining 坑道 - tunnel 葦 - common reed
p266 調和 - harmony, accord, agree 担ぐ - carry on one’s shoulder 廃坑 - abandoned mine
p268 副作用 - side effects おがくず - sawdust 弁解 - explanation, justification
p272 官僚 - bureaucrat 批判 - criticism 糾弾 - censure, denounce 優良 - superior, elegant 惑星 - planet
p274 屈する - yield, kneel 権威 - authority
p276 流動食 - liquid die 活性化 - rejuvenation, revitalization 狩猟 - hunting
p280 ごわごわ - stiff, starchy
p284 横断歩道橋 - pedestrian footbridge
p286 噴水 - fountain 欄干 - railing, handrail 更ける - to get late, advance 帰省 - returning home
p288 年配 - elderly, senior 置き引き - walking off with someone’s bag, luggage theft
p290 退化 - degeneration, regression 隔たり - distance, interval, gap
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Ethereum lottery contract for DEFLAT
Ethereum lottery contract for the DEFLAT ecosystem, Send 0.002 ETH to captalize DEFLAT and try to win 0.018 ETH, the prize is drawn when accumulated balance 0.02 ETH *. NOTE: * 0.002 ETH is deducted from the balance for purchase of DEFLAT that will be distributed. Contract link: https://etherscan.io/address/0x880b60d40dc9748dd198ff1a539b763580c0382f To participate send exactly 0.002 ETH for the contract. Add the token DEFLAT Coin to your watch list.
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i have been having thoughts
nazuna and his s/o going on an ice cream date when its like 100 degrees f outside
ice cream sweet and refreshing like him...
i'll stop before i start adopting my irl best friend's absurd jokes /pos
Idk how I managed to make Nazuna a side character, but this is Y/ns world, he’s just living in it.
Anyway topical cause it was warm today I got ice-cream. It slapped, it was like chocolate brownie.
OKAY ENJOY~
On an Ice-Cream Date
Nazuna Nito
In your defense, it was not summer. So, realistically, it was not your fault that you weren't prepared for the hottest day you think you've ever felt. 8am in the morning and it was already warm beyond belief. You'd kicked of your sheets during the night, the first thing you did when you got up was change into short and a tank top, you'd blasted the AC for a few hours now- closing the doors around the house so it only had to work to keep one room cool- but even that wasn't working quite well enough.
You'd taken to just sprawling out on the floor. Limbs spread out like a starfish and every few minutes you'd shuffle around a bit in attempt to feel the fresh, crisp coolness of an untouched floor space. You always made sure a leg or arm was touching one of Nazuna's though. He had joined you on the floor. Suffering in solidarity.
At first the two of you had tried to keep up a conversation, but it quickly dwindled into just loafing with some music on in the background.
"Nazunaaaaa, could you get us some ice water? I've already drunk mine…" You trailed off, staring at the large glass that had once contained your salvation. Nazuna only hummed for a moment. He didn't stir for a moment and you began to wonder if he'd heard you- soon after though, he heaved a sigh and began to peel himself off the floorboards. Meandering over toward the kitchen, he paused before opening the door that connected the rooms- dreading the sweltering air that was sure to greet him on the other side.
"I will face the heat for the both of us." He puffed out his chest and swung the door open, vanishing inside.
You could hear the sound of the fridge, a couple of glasses too, before you were blessed with a perfect idea.
You chirped his name and he appeared back in the doorway. He smiled as he watched your head appear from behind the couch as you craned your neck off the floor.
"Could you grab us some ice cream?"
"Sounds perfect to me!"
He vanished again and you laid your head back on the floor, eyes lazily trained on the ceiling.
It wasn’t long before Nazuna returned. He placed the new glasses of water on the coffee table before seating himself beside you and pouting.
"We're out of ice cream."
The words struck your heart; sharp as a knife, cutting through the layered defense of your emotions and leaving you utterly dejected.
Nazuna had to stifle a laugh as you dramatically deflated on the spot.
"Would you like to go get some ice-cream?"
You sprang upward immediately, rejuvenated with life. "Can we?" You asked, clasping your hands together with such excitement in your eyes it looked as though you'd just won the lottery. He laughed, nodding his head as he helped you to your feet. "It does mean we'll have to go outside in the heat…"
"A worthy sacrifice!"
Outside wasn't actually as bad as you'd first assumed it would be. There was a breeze, at least, and Nazuna had opted to grab an umbrella to keep the direct sun off you during your little walk. You had bottled water to satiate you on the way there too. The scenery was also quite pleasant; beautiful lush trees, arrays of colorful flowers, flittering birds and the quiet hum of the outer city. A good mood had befallen the both of you, you'd even taken to swinging your intertwined hands as you walked.
Soon enough, however, you had reached your destination. As soon as the ice-cream truck had come into view you'd bounded off toward it, Nazuna not far behind. Only a few people were in line, more milled about but it seemed most had decided the heat wasn’t worth bearing for a treat- or perhaps they'd had the forethought to stock up…
Nazuna turned to you, asking what flavour you'd like. You hummed for a bit, reading over the menu multiple times before just deciding to go with your favourite. Nazuna ordered for you and paid. You couldn’t keep the grin off your face as you watched the man scoop your ice-cream and set it in a cone. As soon as they'd placed it on the holder you'd reached up with a cheerful 'Thank you!' and taken your reward.
After Nazuna had gotten his, the two of you found a tree nearby and taken a seat under it.
"What flavour did you get?" You asked between licks. Nazuna hummed for a moment.
"I thought I'd try the Mango one- It's quite good!"
He smiled for a moment- just a moment, before he realized the trap he'd fallen into. You bat your eyes at him. He sighed, holding out his ice-cream toward you. With a cheer you leant over and took a sample of his sorbet. You did have to agree that it was quite nice. It was refreshing- it reminded you of summer… of which was not the current season, but to be honest, this left you almost missing it.
"Here, try some of mine! It's only fair." You held out your ice-cream as Nazuna had done and he smiled, leaning forward to try some. As he did so, you leant forward too and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Nazuna flushed red. His eyes went wide and all he could do was blink owlishly at you. You burst into laughter. He gingerly raised his hand to touch where you had kissed him and once he finally processed, he offered only an adorable pout.
"Careful! Your ice-cream is melting!" At this Nazuna let out a little yelp and quickly went to inspecting his ice-cream, switching hands and trying to lick the melted mess off his fingers. You dug into your pocket and produced some napkins you had stashed away and offered them to him. He accepted them quickly and cleaned up, cheeks still tinted pink.
You spent the rest of the afternoon lounging under that tree, laughing and chatting- you even dozed off for awhile, content with the peace of the day and comfort of your beloved.
Facing the heat really hadn't been so bad.
#nazuna nito x reader#nazuna nito#enstars x reader#ensemble stars x reader#enstars#ensemble stars#admin lemon
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interference of waves | steve mcgarrett
masterlist
Danny pokes at the big kahuna’s crush he won’t admit he has for you. Then Danno sighs exhaustively when you don’t believe it exists either despite being totally smitten with that damn SEAL since he smiled at you.
steve mcgarrett x reader
Author’s note: some mild swear words and a Danno cameo appearance bc he rules. This idea got way longer, but whatever. I tried really hard to make this be in character. Hope someone enjoys this.
6,118 words | ♫ Playlist: happiness is a butterfly - lana del rey, ghosts - on an on, willow - taylor swift
______________________
Your footsteps sank into the damp soil in the humid forest, the smell of earth and heavy air, the photosensitizing life at home and thriving-- yours the opposite. The gears turned and all the sudden you began to understand if you were going to get stuck in a situation like this-- being stuck with someone like Steve McGarrett was winning the lottery. It was a big assumption after only knowing him less than an hour (consciously), but even your well-known doubt couldn’t destroy the determined presence of him.
All you had wanted to do is get some antique jewelry appraised at the cute little store earlier. You didn’t think you would’ve ended up here. A civilian stuck in the crossfire, who was bad at minding her business and was trying to do the right thing. Because it was when you heard the noisy scuffle in the back of the store, where the brunette man (now you knew was named Steven) was led-- he was the same person, who was eyeing the store outside before you went in, a badge and gun on his hip. Then he walked down the street quickly, out of view, and came back with them both removed. You had watched him as he entered the store, while you looked at the collectibles on display. He cut in front of you, and the store owner asked if you could wait a moment. You nodded, trying to eavesdrop without being obvious. Lucky for Steve, you had.
One hostage situation was invaded, thanks to your quick thinking and good aim with old valuables, until you both realized the owner had partners-- then you both were trapped. Somehow a plan was hatched with understanding stares in the back of a truck, and now you were running in the middle of nowhere like gazelles. Your movements became collected and elegant, like you, all of the sudden, had someone depending on you while also wanting to make a good impression. Technically, in a way, you did. Steve was behind you, less than a step, his energy like an opposing magnet, pushing you forward. It kept you from getting attached to the panic at the back of your skull where it figured it was only a matter of time before those other sketchy guys were going to catch up to you. Well, except the one you both had left on the ground during the escape even despite having your hands tied behind your backs. Steve didn't address it when you asked if he was dead. McGarrett just kept talking through the sentence, and you two were gone. You weren't sure which answer he was protecting you from, the fact he was, or the fear he wasn’t.
You ducked into a thicker area of ferns, and he had started listing off the things that had to be done, and how. Half-tied up, as the pains from everywhere began to emerge alongside the adrenaline. You surprised him again, apparently, by interrupting him.
“Stop, hold on a sec,” you instructed, fidgeting with your hemline, contorting your taught arms towards the edge of fabric.
“What are you doing?” Steve asked, irritation suddenly deepening the creases in his forehead, wondering what the hell the delay was for. (From the short time with him, you found he was easy to read in some ways-- like the military mindset, yet in others-- it was like worn away engravings-- faint etchings but never the whole story.)
“There’s a pocket knife in my hidden pocket,” you explained.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, Commander, seriously.”
You looked up as you said it, the folded antique now in your hands, McGarrett’s puffed out chest, deflating a bit in capitulation. Then, he smiled at you. Shockingly genuine, it hit you harder than the prior forces that would soon leave bruises. It was like, a perfect date smile-- insidiously handsome and incredibly out of place, as was your reaction to it (blame your semi-concussed states). Looking back, you didn’t think your day could’ve been ruined any more, all things considered. But, him right there, shut up in awe, smiling at you, did you in.
In the lulls, the doubt crept back in, now in regards to his team actually finding you two. Steve was immediately tuned to your silence, and he took it upon himself to construct more assuredness with details about his task force's current case. Or he quipped facts about whatever was in sight, like a breathing encyclopedia. He practically monologued an argumentative essay when you gave him even the slightest hard time as you attempted to trek to some form of safety in this constantly green black hole. When you complained, he said you’d get along with Danno. ‘Who the hell is Danno?’ You asked, and soon learned. You weren't sure if Steve was just talking for your benefit or not. Your sarcasm, however, was one of the few things that could keep you going without totally breaking down in front of an almost stranger who apparently had high expectations. Though, you did get him to barely mumble out a laugh, a few times. Daylight fell to darkness and changed to day again, and you wondered how many times it could happen in a row, how many days would it be.
Never did you think a helicopter could make such a beautiful sound, as you were airlifted up and away from the emerald land of no return that was alluring in the same ways it could kill you. Upon entering the chopper, there sat a coiffed blonde-haired man, arms crossed, simmering in a controlled lividness.
“Thank God, we found you, Rambo. But why, just why couldn't you have listened to me? Is it a disorder, a compulsion?”
“You better have gotten Richards,” Steve noted-- a reference to the case you gathered.
“In process. They tracked the meeting down--”
Steve rolled his eyes, heaving out an aggravated sigh, as the shorter man whipped back, “--My apologies for prioritizing wrong. You wanna go back down there?”
“You’re Danno, aren’t you?” You asked, out of the blue, amused at the normalcy of exchange.
The new voice to the conversation shocked the guy enough to break out of his rant and turn towards you. He took a breath, frustration gone, kindly offering his hand to shake, “Danny Williams, yes, hi, hello.”
You introduced myself, before adding, “Thanks for finding us.”
“You’re welcome, very glad you’re okay, very sorry you’re in this mess,” he outstretched one arm towards you, as if to say to McGarrett ‘See look a civilized person, why can’t you be one?’. Then Danny placed one hand to his chest as he realized something, “Suddenly I feel slightly moved since I’ve apparently been a topic of discussion during your potential last rites, Steven.”
“Don’t get choked up, it wasn’t anything good,” McGarrett replied.
Danny mellowed and the white noise filled the void. You sat next to Steve, but he was focused on the surroundings, leaning almost out the edge. You both were bloody, dirty, tired, and even then this warrior man looked like he could take on the world and look good doing it.
The helicopter landed, once again on solid flat pavement, reality feeling altered with civilization so nearby, a constant headache, your consolation prize. You spoke up, one part of imprinted yourself afraid McGarrett would disappear from your life as fast as he showed up. Your life had irrevocably changed, ink in water. You couldn’t let go that easily.
“So, is this where we never see each other again despite living through this together?”
“No, we’ll have to get your statements back at 5-0 headquarters first.” Steve explained, and you thought you saw the ghost of a smirk hanging from the corner of his mouth.
______________________
When you first reached out to Steve, after getting back to normal daily life when the case wrapped, you didn’t think he’d answer, let alone so quickly, considering his demanding job. Your insomniatic desperation won, and the echoing ringback tone matched your buzzing heartbeats. I mean the guy answered on the third ring. He scheduled a meeting near Ala Moana beach in an hour, and considering your surprise at the attentiveness, you felt obliged to go despite the short notice.
“Hey, what’s going on?” McGarrett asked, addressing you calmly. You thought there was a hint of concern in his face, in spite of his casual saunter to the bench you were already sitting down on. You saw the gun and badge on his hip, god, he was in the middle of working another case.
“Couldn’t stay away from you,” you said, tone thick in sarcasm, and intentionally so, desperate to cover the honest open wound.
Steve sat down, and rolled his eyes, making sure not to linger too long, his amused lips parting a bit, “No kidding--”
That reply from another person, likely would’ve come across as being a total arrogant asshole. But from him, it was playful, even in the part of justified self-confidence he exuded, because only he had endured what you had-- a crash of meeting waves where you developed a symbiotic relationship that helped you both survive. McGarrett crossed his arms, and you noticed how the tendrils of tattoo colours became more saturated in the angle of late afternoon sunlight that was cascading over him. You focused back to what he was saying.
“--but what’s the other reason?” His lips formed the tiniest of smiles then dropped it, “You doing okay?”
“Are you? You were the one more beat up last time I saw you.”
“I’m doing fine,” he nodded his head for emphasis, shifting his glance away from the ocean and back to you, “Now answer the question.”
A pattern emerged every time McGarrett asked you how you were, and he did so every time you dropped by each other. Over time, it was your hopeful expectation that morphed his green eyes into a deeper tide pool blue when he was staring at you-- heavy water-- convincing you that there was something lurking in the depths, and you just had to hold on, a little more, to finally pull it out. He was always unwavering and unrelenting, urgent yet earnest, in his structured pause, waiting for an answer even though you had been avoiding it or lying eloquently. He snuck in, unexpectedly, on the prowl, catching you between his teeth. Not to kill, never-- only to hold you there.
You gave in, revealing whatever was haunting the forefront of your head space, consciously or not, or your current case of malaise being endured in this fresh broken world-- then your breath would get caught in your throat, waiting for the moment, bound to happen, that proved you said too much. But, he always listened. And even if he didn’t say anything, you felt there was an unspoken understanding with little to no words.
McGarrett was a genuine golden boy, a lionhearted hero, a force to be reckoned with, that somehow managed to wreck your life in the ways he also made it better. You selfishly took whatever fueled the need for him to remedy what he couldn’t ever unsee from being with you. Maybe, he checked in and hung around as an act of reciprocity to you helping him out. Maybe, it was guilt over his own ability to compartmentalize the ordeal. Maybe, you were just bonded and marked by circumstance. You never asked why or what it was. Because maybe if you did, you’d lose it.
______________________
“You know, you spend a lot of time checking in with this person, who you say is just someone you know,” Danny commented, “Is it another ‘classified’ part of your past carried over to the present?”
McGarrett turned to him, as he got back into the parked car, “No.”
“Then what’s with the secrecy?”
“You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?”
“Not particularly no, considering, half the time you’re making stops, it’s with my car and me in it. Like today. Again.”
Steve sighed loudly, eyes on the road as he drove, debating what he should say.
“Remember, the last black market case? The undercover that went sideways--”
“Because you didn’t listen,” Danny interrupted while connecting the dots, “Wait, wait, the woman who saved your ass before you both then got taken hostage?”
“Yeah.”
“And this is some big SEAL secret, ‘cause why, bruised ego?”
“No. It’s just… I don’t know,” McGarrett sighed, letting the sentence drift away into the scenery moving past them on the road.
“I saved you from being shot on the first day we met, and I didn’t encounter any semblance of grateful indebtedness, so. What’s got you emotionally attached here?”
“Emotionally attached?” Steve echoed with his modified version of a grimace for anything he deemed Williams’ attempt at psychobabble.
“Yes. Emotionally attached.” Danny iterated, with his hand gestures that never lost energy over time.
Steve scoffed, and took the harsh winding turns of the highway without letting off the gas, “I don’t know.”
“Is that the only thing you can say now?,” Danny asked, instinctively, holding onto the passenger door’s ledge, huffing out a rationally concerned exhale, “Slow down, would you? There’s traffic on the Pali right now--,” he knew it fell on deaf ears, but he still said it before focusing back to his other thought, “So, it had nothing to do with being stuck in the jungle for a coupla days with an apparently very competent, nice, attractive young woman?”
Steve turned to him, “What the hell did you think we were doing, Danny? Besides, fighting dehydration and staying conscious.”
“You’re just deflecting.”
Ah, there was that look again from McGarrett.
The detective nodded, his eyes wrinkling up in a proud yet nefarious understanding, “You obviously talked to her too, and bonded over violent combat. You like her?”
“She seems like a pretty cool person.”
“No, you idiot. I mean do you like-like her?”
“I’m the idiot in this conversation? Like-like her? What are we, fourteen?” Steve jeered, and adamantly shook his head, as if it was the perfect Pavlovian conditioned response, “Why do you always have to overanalyze every single thing? I shouldn’t have said anything, because it was none of your business anyway.”
“First off, I have a preteen daughter, allow me the nuance. Second, that was quite a visceral response,” Williams replied, with an emphasizing finger point to the air, “For someone who’s been hiding the fact you’ve been seeing her-- yet who you don’t view as even a friend.”
“Fine, we’re friends. We talk and check in with each other,” Steve defended, “Occasionally,” he emphasized, “Now you know. Happy?”
“Fine. What was so hard about that, Steven? You made a new friend. Nothing to be ashamed of,” Danno coolly commented, unable to fully remove the faint shiteating grin that formed since the discussion turned to this, “Unless you’d like to discuss the possible reasons as to why you’d feel that way…”
Steve only drove faster, in retaliation.
______________________
As your familiarity with Steve McGarrett became more clear. You realized his insistence and methodicalness were a part of his everyday life, not just in life or death situations, his ubiquity spread with every new detail he learned. He stopped by your work once, and noticed your wrist was in a splint. The SEAL death stare worked and now you were on an unplanned five minute break.
“Who did this to you?” Steve questioned, and you could see the vein in his neck, a green hill on his tanned skin, his overwhelming physical response to the injury was concerning-- in both meanings of the word.
“Nobody.”
“You’re lying,” he huffed out, but more quietly, jaw barely tensing, eyeing you.
“No, I’m not. It was my fault.”
Steve said your name-- you hated it when he said it like that-- the tiniest twinge of gentleness seeping in to contaminate the stern warning to cut the bullshit.
“On my run, a few days ago,” you ran a hand through your hair, “I told some guys to stop bullying this kid. They didn’t. I got pissed, then I lost my balance amidst my self-defense. That’s all.”
“Guys?” He echoed, fully understanding the effect of the plural, “How many? Where were you exactly?”
“There were two raging morons. Eh, I don’t know. It was near Mānoa and the University. And, no I didn’t file a report,” you answered, cutting him off because you knew that’s what he’d ask next, “I knew nothing was broken. I bought a sling, I’m fine. I hope those guys don’t forget it though, jerks.”
McGarrett shook his head as if to say ‘What am I going to do with you?’ And in some empathetic epiphany, he knew what Danny felt like, for one split-second, and then his thoughts went on as normal.
Steve deeply sighed, crossing his arms-- his presence always like he won the argument even if there was none to fight, “Well, after that’s healed, I’m teaching you some better combative techniques to prevent this, or worse, next time.”
Sixteen days later, you’re in McGarrett’s backyard for training session #2 (of who knows how many), paying close attention to the maneuver Steve was just discussing with you. You followed through, feeling the strength move through your muscles, the control, the success against the attack, the surprise at how much physics and leverage actually worked no matter what your supposed skill level was. You felt pent up anger storm to the surface.
“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Steve said, calling out your name.
You pulled back, suddenly, muscles relaxing a bit, snapping back to reality, “Sorry, I’m sorry,” you cleared your throat, shifting to sit beside him on the grass, “I got into the zone there.”
“I can see that,” Steve said, leaning his palms back, grabbing another breath, “ko'u kai ikaika,” slipping into his exhale that melded into the ocean air.
The foreign words sounded like a secret too good to be kept quiet, as gentle as the previous breeze. They seeped into your mind even though you had no idea what they meant. You glanced back at him, heartbeat not yet calmed, hesitant, trying to get him to explain without having to bring it up, trying to find a reason to think that figment of a smile molded onto his lips was for you-- even if you couldn't believe it truly was-- barbed wire around your heart’s healing scars.
There was that stare, it was emerging in his eyes, framed by those goddamn pretty eyelashes you didn’t want to notice again. It’d become clearer every second, soon enough, like when a train was coming straight toward you. You were still on the tracks, waiting.
“Am I interrupting something?” A voice called out near the back porch. It was Danny’s, he was impossible to forget or not hear, you learned as much from your first meeting.
Steve turned towards him, “No, actually, you can help us,” he quickly called back.
“What? I thought we were going to-- wait, what do you mean help? Help with what, exactly?” Danny asked again, his walk pausing halfway through the yard.
“Danny, just get over here!” Steve yelled again, reenergized and distracted like a kid, jumping up, overeager at the fortunate timing of that beloved curmudgeon.
“Okay, here’s a perfect opportunity to test your skills,” Steve explained to you while your face warned to him that this wasn’t a good idea,
“He’ll be fine.”
Danny turned to Steve, after you left, desperately needing another coffee at this point, or maybe just a flat out drink, mildly annoyed at the fact he was roped into being a human punching bag.
“Only you-- only you would think, ‘Ooh, Krav Maga, let’s make it a date!’” Danny remarked, “Are you guys doing sniper training next time?” Steve was still ignoring him, “Why can’t you ask her for coffee, like a normal person.”
“She doesn’t drink coffee. And, it wasn’t a date.”
“Not outwardly, no.” Danny replied, but he didn’t ignore the fact the man was dropping facts about you, he just didn’t bring it up right then.
“She needed the practice. I offered.”
“You mean ordered.”
“Drop it, Danny.”
“Drop what? What is there to drop? Because according to you, there is nothing. Nothing at all! So, what’s got you all perturbed?!”
______________________
You went to the grand reopening of Kamekona’s shrimp truck, which had expanded to a family picnic and outdoor games promotional event-- according to Steve, as he had gotten roped into helping promote it since Kamekona argued, ‘it’s for the children, brah’. You showed up and were the first to arrive out of all the names you knew of in some form, but never met officially (besides Danny). Steve was the only one who was appreciative of your punctuality.
“So, what do you need help with?” You asked, walking over to where McGarrett’s truck was parked.
“Everything’s actually taken care of,” Steve proudly smirked, confidently leaning against its side.
“Really? Gold star, Commander,” you teased, trying to distance yourself from that smile.
“I’m glad you could make it, though,” Steve admitted, leaning towards you slightly, his voice lower despite no one else being there to hear him except you.
“Am I polished up enough to show all your friends now?” You half-joked, the worry leaping out from its cage.
“Is that what you really think?” He asked, as his voice changed, no longer lighter. It was serious, slightly hurt, on the offense. He turned to face you directly.
“No. I mean, I don’t know, Steve. Ever since,” you paused, him recognizing what you meant, “I haven’t seen all of them. I mean I know they’re your colleagues and friends, but, but what am I to you? You don’t think they’d like me?”
“Trust me they’ll like you,” his voice nonchalantly defended, “Danny already does.”
“You didn’t answer my first question.”
He took an inhale through the brief split of his lips, tongue caught on one side of his mouth, figuring out some way to respond. You watched him, trying to force as much energy into mimicking his same stare you fell prey to so many times, wondering if you ever caught him. He shifted away slightly and placed his hands on his hips, standing tall. You couldn’t reach him, you doubt you ever had.
Steve outstretched an arm, as if he was trying to find the right word mid-air to grab in his hand, “You’re-- you’re someone who’s been there for me, who I can talk to.”
“So are they.”
“It’s not the same.”
You could tell he was fretting, barely, the sight was so rare it stood out like a stain, and it felt like one too, noticeable, but something you didn’t have the guts to point out. You didn’t say anything, but Steve felt the resonance of your silence.
“You have to believe that,” he pleaded, in his own way, which was still mostly an order, except for that last word which came out weaker from his jaw. It was elusive and undefined, barely desperate yet obvious enough.
You swallowed the variations of words sitting behind your teeth, replacing them only with,“I do.”
Steve was right, everyone was welcoming, and in no means made you feel like you didn’t belong. But fears you had, came back up vaguely in your stomach, when you felt Steve no longer by your side, losing your anchor in the shifting crowd. Granted, he knew tons of people on the island, and apparently a lot had shown up, per his request, and he of course was considerate and social with each who shared a hello. You knew you had nothing to be disappointed in. You were just a part of his circle of friends now, not the shape of something else, closer, to show off. Your chest silently grieved at the ridiculous notion that this could’ve ever been a date.
Kono and Adam were trying their shot at badminton, but not really, distracted with themselves. Steve was caught up in round two of his bocce tournament-- because he was determined to show off his skills since Danny had in fact argued with him that he had no knowledge of the Italian game or how it was actually played. Daniel was sitting, enjoying his beer in peace, like the old man he was, keeping an eye on Grace-- who just beat you at horseshoes. But the attentive unbiased eyes of the Jersey cop noticed how your shoulders gave in slightly, and it wasn’t from the game you just lost to his daughter.
“She’s a very gracious winner,” you commended, joining him at the picnic table.
“I do try,” Danny replied, appreciative, “After all, I know too well how annoying the opposite is,” he stated, aptly nodding over to where Steve was, out of ear shot, and chanting something that rhymes with winning at Chin.
“Every hero has their fatal flaw.”
“He has many,” Danny said, taking another sip of his beer, “Innumerable, actually. God help me.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at the man who was funny without ever trying to be, “Oh, you’d miss him, though,” you claimed with ease, which Danny didn’t argue either.
The topic made your own stare inadvertently drift towards Steve again-- it was an especially bad move since an attractive woman was obviously trying to flirt with him, even if you couldn’t read their lips. Her nonchalant boldness, sparking jealousy, you bet she had far less baggage than you and was probably more interesting, like tons of travel stories, a love of extreme sports or something else. You looked down, immediately embarrassed, out-of-instinct to self-preservation.
“Hey,” Danny’s voice gently prodded, you turned to him, forcing a small smile, “You know another one of those flaws is him not admitting to what’s right in front of him, especially if I point it out.”
You scoffed, picking at a splinter in the aged wood, “I never knew you were such a dreamer, Danno,” you sat there, tongue-tied, vulnerable, tangled up in ideas and feelings you couldn’t hold, “Thanks, but I’m fine, really. I know there’s nothing to admit,” you assured, attempting to invisibly dislodge the previous thoughts making your chest hurt, “You want a shave ice? I’m gonna go grab one.”
He casually shook his head ‘no’, before loudly sighing to himself at the table, taking another long swig of his beer.
“Danny, you’re up next in 2 points,” Steve called out, his eyes subtly tracking your frame, before going back to his turn.
Danny put his hand against his forehead, thinking to himself, ‘These two beautiful stubborn idiots. A matched set, if I ever saw one. They’re going to give me an ulcer.’
While in line to order, an unexpected breeze blew some loose dollars from your hand. You went awkwardly chasing after them. Until someone else’s foot stomped on one, and you stood up to see who it was.
Danny saw from his periphery when you started chatting to the guy with the dark hair, instead of buying the shave ice you intended to. He was betting himself to see how long it’d take Steve to notice. Danny eyed his friend, ‘Hey big buffoon, you gonna see her with that surfer boy over there?’
The Super SEAL scanned the surroundings out of habit again, taking a brief pause, effortlessly excusing himself from the game that he just won, without even a single gloat.
‘There it is.’ Danny thought.
Steve began stomping over each blade of grass, now unfortunately in his way, like a needy giant, his glare deadlocked to the crosshairs you fell in between. Danny shook his head at the ridiculous level his dear neanderthal friend’s mind would go to rationalize this very act if he brought it up.
You turned to the call of your name, seeing Steve walking over, at a fairly good pace, “Hey, we need you for the final round.”
Steve stood there, at guard, encroaching the space, staking a claim, not like that was difficult to do anywhere with his general demeanor and broadness, but here there was intent with it.
“I thought you were playing--”
“I won. And, we’re going double or nothing, right now, with Danny. Come on,” Steve ducked his head back in the direction of the game.
“I guess I’m needed,” you shrugged at the guy with the shiny hair, “Do you--”
“Have a good one,” the guy interrupted, taking a step away. You were confused, and started to trek back, burying your unexpected disappointment.
“Yeah, take care,” Steve added with a nod to the guy, as if he was showing an exit in open space. McGarrett’s prideful body followed you through the turn, soon meeting up with your stride ahead of him.
_________________
When ‘McGarrett’ flashed across your phone’s screen, you at first were excited, but then worry flashed like a solar flare in your mind. It wasn’t normally the time he checked in, and you hadn’t texted him.
“Steve?”
“Y/N, I need help.”
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
“No, no,” he replied quickly, and you could just hear him fighting a smug delighted chuckle of ‘aw you care about me, see, admit it’, “just my truck.”
“What?”
“I got a flat on the Kalanianaʻole.”
“Don’t you have a spare?”
“Yes, back in the garage.”
“Steven, why isn’t it with the truck, where it should be?”
“Great question. So are you busy, can you come pick me up?”
Before you could even bring it up, “Danny’s on the other side of the island, on a daytrip with Grace, otherwise I would’ve wrecked his afternoon.”
Were you busy? No. Would you have helped anyway even if you were? Yes. But, you dialed back down the eagerness, just a notch, after all, this wasn't anything.
“Where are you, exactly? Let me map it.”
The bright blue waters in your side-vision blurred like a watercolour painting. They were always mesmerizing as you followed the winding roads, hunting for the elephant-sized hunk of formed metal, dead at the side of the road. What a sight it was to see, the warrior man with all the answers, stuck, you coming to the rescue. It didn’t really seem like that, though, Steve’s carefree frame, engrossed in the horizon past the guard rail. He had heard the car’s acceleration slow, nodding in your direction.
“Hey,” he greeted, “that was fast, were you speeding?,” he joked, eyes glinting at you, getting into the passenger seat he was rarely in. He made an exception, this time, and let you drive, since the car was still running.
“So, we’re gonna go grab the spare, and then you’ll take your baby home?”
“The truck?” he asked in a low chuckle, like he needed reassurance. You stared at him a second, while waiting for traffic to clear so you could merge back on. He nodded to himself in realization, softly laughing to himself, “Yeah, can’t abandon her like this.”
Your heartbeat ended up synching with the turn signal as you turned back around on the road, to which you then nodded to yourself in reply, exhaling some half-assed giggle like an idiot. It was becoming contagious.
“Turn at the next right, it’s quicker that way,” you followed Steve’s instructions and didn’t say anything else.
“I almost forgot to ask,” Steve began, as you pulled onto the familiar house-lined street you always wanted a reason to drive down, “How have you been?”
You kept your eyes on the road, but you felt his laser-focused eyes staring at your profile, like a locked safe trying to be cracked. You felt the density of his pause, more than usual, in the smaller space.
“I’m alright, nothing new.” It was true, your feelings really weren’t.
He ran back to the garage, as you parked the car and then followed him. Soon enough, there he was, rolling out the tire towards you, like it was some strategic op to get it in the car.
“Do you know how to change a flat tire?” McGarrett asked, his commander voice creeping in, the ‘this is important, you should know this’ tone.
“Yeah, I do. You got the jack and lug wrench?”
“Those were in the truck.”
“But, not the tire.”
“But, not the tire,” Steve mirrored, “We’ll get this fixed up quick, then we can have dinner.”
“Dinner?” You echoed, surprised, shutting the trunk lid, turning to him.
“Yeah, it’s the least I can do,” he shrugged, holding out his hand, “Keys.”
You gave him a face, to which he then said, “Do you want to re-figure how to get back there, or just let me drive? It’s gonna get dark soon.”
You sighed, rolling your eyes, dropping your hand into his large open palm, the keychain still in your grasp. You felt his fingertips subtly curl around your fist, suddenly wondering if the insignificant act was intentional or not. You let go, uncertainty winning over, hoping the oncoming golden hour hid your barely there flush.
Steve couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows to himself, gratified, obviously attached to your presence, as he trailed behind to the car.
After a half hour or so, the tires were swapped, and you were now driving your own car again, following behind the monster Silverado, preoccupied with the Saturday evening traffic and not getting lost, but also what dinner actually was.
The leaves of the front yard were cast in that muddied pastel glow just before moonlight hit. The house felt different at night, all places do. The longing and loss felt magnified in the quiet two-story, maybe because you realized this was what Steve typically came home to, more space for someone who already had enough distance. You only had fleeting mentions and assumptions of whatever was buried deep in the ribcage of the man beside you.
“So, dinner...” Steve started, turning on the kitchen light.
“Yes, dinner, this I’m really excited for.”
“Really?” He turned his head, intrigued, eyes back on you.
“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “This was all you,” you reminded, “What’s your plan? I’ve seen your fridge before,” you said leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossing over your chest as if to hide what’s been sitting there for months.
“We’ve got some,” he began digging through a cupboard, “pasta.” He gestured, convincingly, as if he was selling items at a sad auction, “And some sauce, yeah?”
“Do you have any vegetables?”
Steve checked the fridge, “Some squash and carrots that don’t look totally questionable.”
“Cut those up, I’ll boil the noodles.”
“Wait, I said I was going to handle it.”
“I know, but I’m hungry. So, get two pots and then get chopping.”
The noodles were drained and the sauce was simmering by now. McGarrett super proud of whatever he managed to create, shoving a spoon in your face to try it out. You tasted the sauce, not bad at all. You gave an approving nod, setting the spoon on the counter.
You lightly patted him on the shoulder, “Well done, Commander.”
As your hand, reluctantly drifted away from his t-shirt, he took it in his own. It was a calm, yet calculated move, as his stare watched yours, gauging your response, willing to let it go if he saw any concern against the idea from you.
You saw what finally floated up to the surface of those green-blue eyes, reeling you in, the evening reflections and comforting smells of a well-used kitchen and domesticity surrounding you, keeping you both close.
“The sauce is going to burn.”
“It’s on low,” Steve assured, in a low voice, gently pulling you closer. You drifted with ease, trapped in a current, your face inches from his. Your eyes fluttered shut, after flickering to his one last time in mutual understanding. You two closed the space, just like the receding ocean waves that always return back to shore.
“Danny was right,” you said in a conceding exhale, as you broke apart, a smile spreading across your lips.
“Don’t tell him,” Steve noted, slightly above a whisper, hands still stuck in your hair, memorizing its softness, “At least not for a little while, huh? It’ll be more fun,” his deep charmed voice reverberated against your ear.
You clicked your tongue and he tilted his head back up at you. You gave him a knowing look, the warrior man’s eyes growing more addicted to your encompassing stare, how it dragged him down yet made him feel lighter at the same time. McGarrett smiled at you. The memory of him in the jungle ran towards the front of your mind, a head-on collision, totally starstruck, the background morphing from green to the present warm white. You kissed him. Steve shifted his body away, and turned the stovetop burner off in one fluid motion. Then he kissed you again.
#steve mcgarrett x reader#steve mcgarrett imagine#steve mcgarrett#steve mcgarrett fanfiction#steve mcgarrett x y/n#hawaii five-0#h50
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@badthingshappenbingo: Anger Born of Worry square.
1.3k. Angst and Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Buck and Eddie. After Buck's decision in 6x04 "Animal Instincts."
Read it below or on AO3.
"So are you ever going to tell me what's going on?"
"What?" Buck's eyes snap up at him from across the table over the pile of plates he's carrying.
Eddie pauses between putting down silverware at each place. "You know, the whole staring-off-into-space thing? Not-hearing-what-anyone-is-saying thing? 'Earth-to-Buckley' thing?"
Buck's face goes hard. "I hear just fine." The next plate goes down with a little more force than necessary.
"That's—" He gestures with a fork, but Buck is pointedly looking only at the table. He sets down the last plate and goes into the kitchen for the glasses. "Not what I meant," he finishes under his breath. "Buck—"
Bobby walks back in to check on dinner, which means everyone else is on their way. Buck reappears with the glasses, lips pressed tight. Bobby blinks at him, then looks at Eddie for an explanation, eyebrows raised. Eddie just shakes his head.
No idea.
. . .
"What?" Sharp and angry.
Eddie opens his mouth to say something, and shuts it again.
"You're staring. So: What?"
He wants to push. He's going to have to, eventually. But Hen and Chim are heading their way, ready to sit down for movie night, so he lets it go.
. . .
There's a dim light on in the lounge on his way back from the bathroom at one a.m. He hesitates, but only for a second. If whoever's over there didn't want to be disturbed, they could've hidden in the dark when they heard him get up.
It's Buck, of course. Lying on his back with his legs draped over the arm of the couch, scrolling on his phone with the screen illuminating his face.
"Hi." Standing at Buck's feet.
"Jesus," Buck mutters, but Eddie knows he saw him coming. "What now?"
He sits down on the coffee table. "What now is you tell me what's going on."
"Nothing's going on." Buck rolls over to face the back of the couch. "Other than you disturbing my sleep."
"Bullshit. On both counts." He puts a socked foot up on the couch and shoves Buck's leg. "Come on. You're supposed to be the one bugging me about shit until I cave. I'm not liking this whole role-reversal thing."
Buck buries his face further into the cushions like he's pretending to be asleep.
"Alright," Eddie says, "I'll just have to guess." He taps his foot dramatically against Buck's leg until Buck kicks him away. "You think you've been cursed by an ancient sorcerer."
"What?" Muffled into the couch cushions.
"You won the lottery and are trying to figure out how to tell us."
Buck groans into the fabric.
More gently: "Your parents are coming to visit."
"Thank fuck, no." Still muffled, but marginally less annoyed.
Okay. Back to the hopefully-absurd. He throws out his hands like he's conveying the plot of a telenovela. "You took this saying yes thing too far and had a one-night stand and got somebody pregnant."
Buck's whole body freezes, shoulders tight. Very carefully even: "I did not have a one-night stand."
Uh. "But you…" He frowns, deeply unsure of where this is going. "Did get somebody pregnant?"
"No!" Buck sits up so suddenly that Eddie has to, too, blinking at the sudden movement in the dimness. "Not…" He deflates, head dropping into his hands, elbows on his knees. "Yet."
Eddie is pretty sure he looks like a fish, mouth moving with no sound coming out. "Um," he manages finally. "What?"
"Not like that," Buck says, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I'm not gonna sleep with her, jeez."
Eddie leans in so close their knees are almost touching, hands hovering at Buck's shoulders. He wants to grab him and shake him, just a little. "Buck. I realize it's one a.m., but as far as I know you're not drunk, so I'm going to need you to make a little more sense than that." He pauses. "Wait. This isn't related to you and Hen being drunk in the middle of the afternoon, is it?" His face twists up in confusion against his will. "They're not…" He shakes his head firmly to cut himself off. If they are trying again, that is Hen and Karen's news to tell him. Buck just definitely didn't seem like their… type.
"Not them," Buck says into his hands. And then, like he's finally reached the fuck it stage in all of this: "Somebody else." When Eddie just waits, expectant, Buck says, "An old friend. He and his wife are trying to get pregnant; they can't; they came to see me; I said yes."
Eddie sits back again, sudden. "Because of that book? Buck."
Buck's eyes flash when he sits up as well. "Not just because of the book. I can make my own fucking decisions, Eddie."
He holds up his hands. "Okay! Yes. You can. Sorry. Just…" Soft. "You don't have to."
"I know I don't have to!" Just the slightest shake in his voice.
"Buck," he says again, heart twisting, because it's everything, right? His past, and his present, and his future, all wrapped into one fucking decision that this guy, whoever he is, had no right to ask him to make.
"Don't—" Buck says, on the verge of breaking. Silence. A shaky breath, and then another, stronger, and he sits up with forced calm. "I thought it through, and I told them yes, and that's that."
It's not. It's so obviously not, and Eddie wants to shake sense into him, and into this other guy while he's at it.
But.
A deep breath of his own. Hands on Buck's shoulders. Steady. "Okay. Whatever you do, I'm here. Alright?"
Buck blows out a breath. Eddie can feel his shoulders come down under his hands. "Yeah. Okay."
Eddie pulls a hand down his face and moves from the coffee table to the couch, grabbing the remote on the way. He looks sideways at Buck. He looks impossibly tired, but Eddie knows him well enough to know he's not ready to lie in bed alone with his thoughts. "You want to watch something?"
Buck nods, and turns sideways on the couch, sliding down enough to rest his head against the back. Eddie knows he's going to end up as a footrest in a minute, here. He offers the remote to Buck, but Buck just shakes his head: You pick.
There's some black-and-white mystery on, already halfway through. He turns the volume down low and sinks down into the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, already falling back into sleep.
Buck shifts beside him and Eddie grunts at the sudden arrival of Buck's feet in his lap. He pulls the blanket from the basket beside the couch and drapes it over himself, and pretends to object when Buck tugs it over himself as well, uncovering Eddie's feet. Some angling gets them both under the fleece, and Eddie opens his eyes enough make sure that Buck's not back on his phone, doomscrolling yet again, but no. Buck's eyes are open just enough to see the screen, following the action back and forth.
"It's gonna be the guy in the hat," Buck says, voice already vague with sleep.
Eddie decides not to point out that it's the 1940s; all the guys have hats. He pats Buck's ankle reassuringly instead, and lets himself slip under, lulled by the murmur of the dialogue and the weight of Buck's feet in his lap.
"Now wait just a minute," one of the characters is saying on screen. "You haven't got this figured out at all!"
Buck stirs, and Eddie opens his eyes and gets his hand moving on his ankle again, and doesn't stop even when Buck stills.
"Hey," Eddie says, quiet enough that he can't tell if the flicker of Buck's lashes is in response to him or just a trick of the movie light. It doesn't matter. He'll tell him again tomorrow, when they're off shift. When things have calmed down enough to really talk it through. To remind him that nothing's happened yet. There's still time.
He squeezes Buck's ankle, warmth in the touch, and closes his eyes. "It's gonna be alright."
#911fic#911 fox#9-1-1#buddie#by:hopeintheashes#my bthb fics#badthingshappenbingo#fandom: 9-1-1#trope: anger born of worry#only one more to go!!
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