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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 8 months ago

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It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[Chapter 16] || [Chapter 18]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.7K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: we're getting there.

Gaz's outfit is 100% a rip off of this fanart by the lovely @temeyes.

Chapter 17: Guard Dogs

You don’t exactly know what you did to deserve this.

You really don’t.

You went on Tinder one time. One night after work.

So why the fuck do you have three men lurking around you like guard dogs?

Ever since the Ethan incident last Friday, they’ve been taking turns going to pick you up at work and walking you home.

Monday - Kyle

Tuesday - Simon

Wednesday - Kyle

Thursday - Simon

It wouldn’t be so bizarre if it weren’t for the fact that people (especially your coworkers) stare when there’s suddenly men waiting for you after work…

Especially when one of them is a 6ft4 man that’s built like a fridge, giving everyone copious amounts of side-eye as they walk out.

And then you wonder why they ask you get asked questions the next morning.

Today, Friday, you exit work to see not one, not two, but all three of them, standing shoulder-to-shoulder. They look frankly adorable, all beaming at you as you come out of work and preening themselves a bit.

Kyle’s on the far left, wearing a cream-colored hoodie with a blue flannel shirt atop, black cargo pants and white and black Air Jordans. The hoodie is pulled up over his hair and his hands are tucked into the pocket of his hoodie.

Simon’s next to him, in the center, wearing black boots, jeans and a black parka with an inner pollar layer that’s zipped up all the way, so as to cover his mouth, in lieu of his usual mask. His hair is sticking up all over and you just know he put hairgel on it.

Johnny’s on Simon’s other side, the far right, and wearing a pair of distressed blue jeans, a shaggy burgundy Ramones t-shirt and an unzipped grey hoodie jacket. Just like Kyle, he’s also wearing some Nikes and they’re so pristine and clean you’d swear he’s gotten them from the box a minute ago.

“Hi…?” You said in surprise as you adjusted the sling of your laptop bag on your shoulder.

“Hey!” Johnny greeted you.

“Hi, lovie.” Kyle said with a beaming smile.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Simon said simply and nodded upwards at you.

“What are you… doing?” You trailed off as you came to stand in front of them, your eyes going back and forth between them.

“Couldn’t decide who should come get you. So we decided to both come” Simon told you sincerely. “And since the two of us were coming, Johnny wanted to tag along.” He added.

“Why are ye talking like I’m a puppy that couldn’t be left at home by myself?” Johnny said with raised brows.

“Because you were begging for us to take you with.” Kyle retorted from Simon’s other side.

“Go fuck yourselves.” Johnny added. “You look nice.” He complimented you with a boyish grin.

“In my work uniform?” You retorted as you looked at him with a playful look of disbelief.

“Aye.” He replied. “Always love seein’ someone all knackered and sweaty after work.” He admitted.

“Johnny are you flirting?” Simon asked and he gave Johnny a look that could kill someone.

“Aye.” Johnny replied with a mischievous look in his eyes and pursed his lips together. “Is that forbidden now?”

“Mate…” Kyle quipped, his tone a soft warning.

“What? They already got two blokes after them, can have another one.” Johnny remarked with the same casualty of someone saying they ‘might as well have another biscuit from the box’.

You blinked away the surprise at the flirting. It was still bizarre to have one man like Simon interested… And you felt overwhelmed to have Kyle on top of it… And now Johnny too?

“Okay, erm… So… let’s go?” You announced and turned to start marching up the street to work before anyone could say anything else.

The guys followed behind you wordlessly, in a formation lead by Simon… like you were a mother duck and they were your ducklings… Or, rather, like they were your pack of guar dogs.

You’re standing by the door of your kitchen feeling like a guest in your own flat.

Kyle and Simon are cooking… without even being asked. You stopped by the shop and they immediately announced they’d cook for you and… now they are.

Johnny’s sitting at the dining table behind you, sprawled open and sipping a can of Monster he got himself at the shop when you were all there.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” You announced as you watched the two men move about your kitchen as they made your meal. Simon’s was first in charge of chopping and dicing things… and now he’s in charge of frying… something, while Kyle takes care of basically everything else.

“What do you mean, lovie?” Kyle asks as he turns to glance at you while stirring something.

“You all came to pick me up together… And now you’re cooking for me…” You trail off as your nails clink a bit against the glass of wine they poured you. “What’s going on?”

“You’re adorably annoying with how perceptive you are, you know that?” Simon asks as he glances back at you as well before plucking something out of the frying pan and to a dish on the side. The oil sizzles loudly when he puts something else down to fry.

“Thank you.” You say with a playfully smug tone as you shift around. “But you didn’t answer the question.” You remark.

“After dinner, alright?” He answers and Kyle makes some sounds of agreement.

“They want to be yer boyfriends, officially.” Johnny says behind you and it causes you to whip around to look at him… Which also made Kyle drop whatever he was holding, in shock.

“SOAP!” Both Simon and Kyle shout, scolding the Scot who’s sitting at the table with a broad grin on his lips.

“You… You do?” You ask as you turn to look at them, mouth parted in surprise.

“Yeah...” Kyle replies as he looks at you.

Simon simply nods and turns away to focus on the food he’s frying.

“I… I’m honored…” You admit and feel your cheeks warming up so bright you fear you’ll start sweating. “I…”

“I’d like a shot at it too, if ye don’t mind.” Johnny adds. Once again, all eyes turn to Johnny with another ‘JOHNNY?!’ which causes him to laugh.

“I’m serious.” He replies. “I’ll gladly date ye too.” He adds.

Your eyes widen. “You-”

“Mhm.” He adds.

“No.” Simon replies as he turns around once more.

“What do you mean ‘no’, L.T.?” Johnny asks in exaggerated offense.

“I mean, I don’t wanna date you.” Simon adds.

“I- Wait.” Now it’s Johnny’s time to get flustered. “Date me?” Poor lad, his whole face warms up bright red.

“Y-Yeah… Kyle and Simon kiss each other sometimes.” You announce and out of the corner of your eye you catch both of the other men stiffening up.

“I KNEW IT. I FOOKIN’ KNEW IT!” Johnny jumps up to his feet, spilling his Monster can on the table. “Ah, shite!” He says as he scrambles to pick it up again before it spills too much.

“What do you mean you knew it?!” Simon asks in shock.

“I KEN YE LIKE EACH OTHER! SAW THE WAY YOU SHARE THOSE COY LOOKS BETWEEN YE!!” Johnny shouts as he points a finger at the two men.

You’re pretty sure they’re all blushing now, you included.

“We didn’t share any looks!” Simon says defensively.

“DID TOO!” Johnny insists. “AND I TAKE OFFENSE TO YE NOT WANTING TO DATE ME, L.T.!” He adds. “I THOUGHT YE LIKED ME!”

Your eyes widen and you move your head side to side trying to keep up with the banter between them as Johnny marches his way into the kitchen so him and Simon can keep bickering.

“Are they always like this?” You find yourself asking Kyle, your eyes widened as they shout your house down.

“Yeah… This is a tame day for them actually. Should hear how they are on comms during missions.” He leans over to whisper in your ear.

“Ah…” You say softly. “I don’t know if I can handle dating this all the time.” You quip playfully, making Kyle laugh.

“You’ll get used to it.” He adds.

As you two continue watching the two men arguing, during which Simon is still, somehow, still tending to the food… You find yourself sneaking little pieces of carrot from the salad Kyle’s making.

Only to stop chewing halfway and let your piece of carrot fall right out of your hands when Johnny suddenly grabs Simon by his face and plants a big kiss right on the taller man’s lips. No warning.

At that moment, Simon looks every bit like Kyle did when they kissed for the first time. Perfectly statue-like still, eyes widened, both hands hanging in the air as if he was frozen…

Johnny’s hands are wrapped around Simon’s face, his palms over his ears, and fingers in his blonde hair, their mouths pressed together…

And then Simon comes back from the trance he’s in and his hands wrap around Johnny’s head too, his fingers digging into the back of his mohawk as their tongues battle together.

“Jesus Christ…” Kyle replies next to you, voicing your exact thoughts.

Once they pull apart, both the men are blushing red and out of breath, eyes widened.

“Ye’ll date me now?” Johnny replies.

Simon doesn’t reply, he simply turns around to finish cooking.

“I think that’s a yes.” You finally announce, finding your voice softly.

Johnny turns to look at you and smirks. “From him or from you?” He asks with a cocked brow.

“Both.” Simon quips with his back turned.

“I think that was the hottest kiss I ever witnessed.” Kyle says softly.

“I’ll give ye a smooch too, don’t get jealous, Gary.” Johnny quips and winks at Kyle.

Then, the Scot grabs a paper towel from the roll and walks toward the door to go mop up the spilled Monster from the table.

But not before he cups Kyle’s face and stealing a peck off his lips…

Then, he does the same to you… before licking his lips at the end.

“Your wine’s tasty.” He adds, before slinking back out of the room.

You’re left blinking away the shock with an equally stunned Kyle next to you… And you’re pretty sure Simon’s stunned too…

Meanwhile, Johnny’s giggling to himself in the living room.

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghoap #gazsoap #ghostgaz

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fox-guardian · 1 month ago

Note

please consider: alice but in her blue hair and pronouns phase

sorry anon you have Activated me because my tma-verse alice has blue hair tips instead of faded pink. so now you get blue hair pronouns alice AND an alternate sam!

[ID: A digital drawing of Sam and Alice from The Magnus Protocol. Sam is a fat South Asian man with brown skin and curly black hair in a ponytail with a mustache, goatee, and body hair. He is wearing a white t-shirt, red zip-up hoodie, and green sweatpants. Alice is a tall, skinny white trans woman with freckles, shaggy brown hair with blue tips in a high ponytail, and snakebites. She is wearing chunky pink jewelry, a dusty pink tank top, a long plaid skirt, and a pink blue and white flannel shirt hanging off her shoulders. She is also wearing blue nail polish and a burgundy purse. Sam and Alice are holding each other close, looking worriedly off-screen. One of Alice's hands is rested on Sam's chest, with Sam resting his hand over hers. He is wearing a gold ring on that hand. end ID]

~~~~

unless given evidence to the contrary, i am choosing to believe that archives!sam and alice got back together and have been doing Pretty Well post eye-pocalypse (much to protocol!sam's distress upon learning of this)

#fg's art #the magnus protocol #tmagp #samama khalid #alice dyer #samalice #dyerama #tubularshrimp #tmagp spoilers #fg's answers #asks #requests

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sempersirens · 1 year ago

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a bird in your teeth, III

masterlist

summary: joel deals with the aftermath of a traumatic experience

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni, neighbour!joel, age gap: reader is early-mid 20s, joel early 30s. no break-out. reference to past SA, trauma, nightmares, general symptoms of PTSD. eventual smut

a/n: hello lovelies! slightly longer part ahead. i've decided to make the next part the final installment of this mini-series, i wanted to explore some more intimate aspects between joel and reader that didn't quite fit here. i hope you enjoy! <3

word count: 3.5k

The sweet chirping of birdsong felt like Mother Nature was playing a cruel joke on you as you stood on the side of the street, arms hugged tightly around yourself. You felt as though the birds were laughing down at you, cackling at your wretched state, sharing an inside joke at your expense. As dawn drew in, her rosy fingers pulled at the remnants of the night's sky. The beauty of the orange and pink hues was wasted on you. To you, it served as a reminder that even as a new day rolled in, the memories swarming your mind wouldn't fade quite as swiftly.

When Joel's truck came hurtling towards you, all notion of time had faded away. You couldn't tell if seconds, hours, or even days had passed since you had lowered your phone from your face. Fifty dawns and dusks could've gone by for all you cared.

The heat from your pumping heart manifested into a blush that crept up your cheeks, and the consequence of your damsel-in-distress phone call settled in your gut.

Joel was here. You had called him, and he had come.

"What happened?" His expression was stern, hair disheveled, and flannel shirt almost comically misbuttoned. You would've laughed if you could remember how.

He grazed your bloody lip with this thumb.

"Sweetheart, what happened?"

"This was a mistake..." You became aware of his hands now on your arms. "Please, don't touch me."

The words tumbling out of your mouth must've sounded as limp and pathetic as you felt. Joel's eyes softened into confusion, and then concern. You didn't have the energy to pull away, but you couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye anymore. You feared his gaze would open every locked door inside of you and allow the mess to collapse onto him.

He said your name, softly, removing you from his grip and opening the passenger door.

"Let me take you home."

As you had done all night, you silently obliged. Joel guided you into the truck, his hand hovering over the crown of your head. He closed the door gently and made his way into the driver's seat, starting the ignition in silence. Was he angry? You couldn't work it out. His knuckles were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel they had turned white.

"Joel, please don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry. I'm taking you back to my place, gonna get you cleaned up, and then when you're ready..."

"Is Sarah okay?" You interrupted.

"Sound asleep. I gotta take her to school in a coupl'a hours, but I'll come straight back to you."

This wasn't right. You shook your head in soft defiance, staring at your lap where your hands sat, fingers interlocked. As you thought of all the trouble you had caused him, you noticed your thumbnails digging into your hands so sharply that you had drawn blood. You turned your palms shakily onto your bare thighs to hide the fresh droplets.

"Honey, where are your shoes?"

Joel's soft inquiry snapped you out of your trance; you hadn't even realized you'd left those fucking cowboy boots on the bedroom floor in your rush out of the front door.

"I left them... I-I didn't think to..." Your breathing became erratic again, chest heaving with each rise and fall feeling like a weight was crushing into your ribcage.

"Hey, hey hey. Breathe. You're with me. You're safe with me, you know that." He reached across your lap and squeezed your still interlocked hands, filling his lungs with air and then exhaling slowly through his mouth like he was a midwife guiding you through childbirth.

You copied his rhythmic breaths, focusing on the emerging purple colors now littering the sky. It was cruel for the sky above you to be so warm and inviting.

You wished for an English February; for thick layers of ice coating the ground with black ice hidden underneath. You wanted it to be the cold that had caused your muscles to freeze, or the harshness of a dry wind to be clawing down your throat. You wished you could blame the weather for the way your body was reacting.

Of all people, you didn't want Joel to see you as weak. You internally reprimanded yourself for pulling him out of his home, away from his daughter to come and save you. Your body and soul had never taken to relying on others easily. Who had you become? You were supposed to be strong. You moved across the world all by yourself, for god's sake.

"What's goin' on in that head of yours?"

"Everything."

The remainder of the journey was silent.

Joel pulled into his driveway, soon exiting the truck and jogging to your side to help you out.

"Easy, darlin'."

He carried your handbag on one arm and looped the other to support your waist. With his free hand, he unlocked the door and closed it quietly behind him.

"Sarah's not gonna be up for another couple hours, you go make yourself comfortable in my bedroom, I'll bring everything y'need."

You gave him a pathetic nod before traipsing up the stairs you had watched Sarah scurrying up only six hours ago. Despite your years of friendship with the Millers, you had never actually gone into Joel's bedroom. You had snuck a peek or two inside whenever the door was left ajar if you passed on your way to the bathroom, but had never set foot inside.

His bedsheets were haphazardly thrown back, half dangling onto the carpeted floor. The fan on his dresser was still humming, sending ripples through his pillowcases. You were reluctant to make yourself at home as he had instructed, so perched on the edge of his bed eyeing the posters dotted on his walls. His bedroom looked like it hadn't changed since his 20s, reminding you of how young he must've been when he started a new life to bring up Sarah in a home he could call his own.

Joel appeared at the door, shutting it softly behind him. He was balancing a steaming mug and a first aid kit in one hand, and some pillows from the sofa under his other arm. He set the mug down on the nightstand beside his bed. Tears swelled in the corner of your eyes at what you recognized as the Yorkshire Tea he kept stocked in the cupboard, especially for you.

"Want you to sit back and get real comfy, alright?"

"Okay."

You hesitantly lifted your legs to rest on the bed, shuffling backward towards the headboard. Joel set the first aid kit at the foot of the bed and leaned over to place the pillows behind your back.

"That okay?"

You nodded your head without looking directly at him.

Wordlessly, Joel walked around to the other side of the bed, setting himself down with a barely audible groan. He brought the first aid kit into his lap and started sifting through the contents.

"You mind if I take a look at your lip?"

"No. I mean - that's fine."

You parted your lips slightly, Joel's fingers lifting your chin up towards him.

"Washed m'hands, promise."

He pulled your bottom lip down to inspect the wound, cleaning the now-dried blood from your chin. The silence in his bedroom made his touch even more intense. You'd felt his hand on your waist, or accidentally brush past your bare skin now and then, but this... You had never been touched by anybody like this before. His eyebrows were furrowed tightly as he put all of his focus into handling you with care.

You had been with your fair share of guys before; boyfriends, one-night-stands, whatever. But the way you felt under Joel's gaze in this moment, holding your chin between his thumb and index finger, made you feel like nobody had ever truly touched you before. Like you were brand new. It made you want to sob. You had to start regulating your breathing again to prevent your lip from wobbling, shattering your impenetrable exterior.

"M'I hurtin' you?"

Finding courage hidden somewhere deep inside of you, you leveled your gaze with his. This close to his face, you could've sworn you saw his pupils dilate.

"No. It's fine, thank you."

"You're doin' so well, honey. Keep breathin' for me." He moved his thumb to stroke your jaw as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Joel."

"Don't say that. This ain't your fault."

"How can you say that? You don't even know what happened."

"Don't need to. But, I'd be grateful if you'd be so kind as t'fill me in."

You sucked a breath in and brought your knees up to your chest. The birds outside the window began mocking you with their song again.

"You get in a fight? W'that friend of yours who picked you up earlier?"

Oh god. He really had no clue.

"No, nothing like that."

"Somethin' while you were out? Sweetheart, someone had t'have busted your lip like that?"

"I said no."

"So what, you don't remember? You taken somethin'? You're scarin' me, darlin'."

He was pleading. It was dripping all over his face, this deep despair searching your features for the answers your voice couldn't quite give him.

"No, I do. I mean- I said it, I said no. To a guy. O-one second I was falling asleep and then... he was just there, Joel. He appeared out of nowhere. I thought he had gone home. And I was saying no but he was all over me. He was everywhere."

Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks, a dichotomy of relief and anguish flooding through your veins so intensely that any hope of maintaining a stoic facade had long washed away.

You didn't make a sound as you sobbed. Your entire body jerked with each breath, snot ungraciously dripping onto your upper lip. It didn't matter. Joel wrapped you into him without hesitation, your face nestled against his shoulder. He rocked you in his arms, back and forth, back and forth. Your sobs intensified into his t-shirt, eyes squeezed shut. You could feel the tears clinging onto the material, but all he did was hold you tighter.

"Oh, baby girl. It's okay, I got you. I got you now."

"I'm so sorry, Joel." You choked the words out.

"Don't you dare apologize. You let everythin' go. Give all that hurt t'me. I'll take it for you."

Joel pulled you into his lap, your legs collapsed underneath you. He placed a hand on either side of your face, holding you inches away from his own. He had never seen you like this. It shattered his damn heart. He had to keep blinking to fend off his own tears.

“You did the right thing, callin’ me.”

Every inch of him wanted to go back in time to you lingering in the doorway and ask you to stay the night. Hell, he would've gone back to that first time he saw you and taken you in his arms like a sailor returning home from years at sea. The only reason he'd even had the courage to turn up at your front door, mumbling something about burgers, was because Sarah had caught him peeking at you through the curtains for the first few days of you moving in. If you like her so much, why don't you ask her on a date? She had asked so innocently. But she was right; it was that simple. He fired up the grill before straightening himself up and jogging across the street. A Glenn Campbell record had been echoing through your house, something he found even more endearing when he was struck by that accent of yours.

He wanted to tell you that the reason none of his first dates made it to a second was because none of them were you. He was setting these poor women up to fail; how could they ever compete with you?

But right now, you were here. Safe in his arms. He was going to do everything in his power to bring that light back into your eyes.

An hour or so passed like that. You pressed against his chest, falling in and out of a dreamless sleep, Joel's fingers grazing soothing patterns on your arm.

The sound of Sarah's bedroom door closing jolted you awake.

"Ssh, it's okay. S'just Sarah getting ready t'head out. Gimme a minute to go say good mornin'."

You nodded in response, mustering a small smile.

You felt tiny alone in his bed, the absence of his body leaving you feeling hollow. You pulled the covers up to your chin and drew you knees up to your chest, dreading to think what Joel would tell Sarah. She called me in the middle of the damn night, what was I s'posed to do? Maybe she'll get the hint and leave. Imagined narratives swarmed your mind.

Why was it so hard for you to accept his help?

"Oh my god," you gasped, sitting up. "Daisy."

In your state, you had left her there all alone. Mark seemed like a nice enough guy, but didn't they all?

You reached for your handbag hanging off of Joel's door handle and searched for your phone.

14 missed calls. You tapped your foot against the floor anxiously as the dialing tone sounded.

"Moooornin' Ms. Cocktease. How's ya head?" She chirped, the relief that engulfed you allowed your body to slack back onto the bed.

"I am so glad to hear your voice." You breathed.

"That's romantic. You gonna tell me what had you scurrying off in such a hurry at 3am? Y'left your damn boots behind."

"I was... really worried about missing my 9am. It's with my thesis supervisor."

"Sweetheart, a love you but you gotta learn to relax once in a while. Let off some steam! Unclench your jaw, woman."

"I know, I know. I'll work on it."

"How'd you get home, anyway?"

"Oh, um. I called a cab."

"I feel like you're lyin', and I intend to find out what's goin' on. I swear to god if you're fuckin' that old man I'm not gonna know whether to be proud or-"

"Listen, babe, I'm glad you had a good night. Give me all the gritty details over coffee tomorrow?"

"Oh fine. Enjoy your meeting."

The line disconnected as Joel re-entered the room.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm gonna drop Sarah to school, but I'll be right back. Need me to pick you anythin' up from your place?"

"No, that's okay. I should get out of your hair-"

"I'll be right back."

He walked over and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

---

Joel couldn't concentrate for the entire drive back to his place. He had to pass the street he had picked you up from hours prior to get to and from Sarah's school. The image of you standing there so broken, now knowing exactly why, filled him with grief for the version of you he knew and adored. He wished he had known there and then what you had endured. He knew how strong and capable you were of looking after yourself, so he had to fight every urge to raid each block of flats along the street to find the guy who had done this to you.

He flexed his knuckles back and forth over the steering wheel, forcing himself to go straight home. Back to you. However you decided to deal with this, whether it be today or in five years' time, he would be behind you.

What he would do to find that pathetic excuse for a man, that boy, and slowly take each finger off that he had dared to touch you with. He would make him hurt in ways he didn't even know he could feel pain.

Joel's mind flicked back to the image of you breaking down in his arms and he sucked a breath in to steady himself. He wished he could take all of your pain away and alter the course of the last six hours to have you waking up in his arms unscathed.

He returned home to find you curled up asleep in his bed sheets. He crept under the cover next to you, about to pull you back into his arms when you started thrashing your arms and legs.

"No, stop!" You murmured, still fast asleep.

"Sweetheart, it's me. Hey, hey, hey. It's me. It's Joel." He spoke, holding your face between his hands to try to coax you out of your nightmare.

"Wake up, darlin'. You gotta wake up. It's me, you're safe."

Your eyes finally widened, consumed with fear and confusion. You searched your surroundings and backed away from Joel's grip, still calculating where you were and what the threat was.

"You're okay. Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby."

"Joel... I'm sorry, I-"

"Stop apologizing, I'm sorry. I didn't mean t'scare you, honey."

You sat in silence for a few minutes, slowing your breathing back down and ridding the sound of blood pumping in your ears.

"Do you mind if I have a bath, please?"

"Anything. I'll run you one now. Sarah has some o'that fancy girl soap if you want?"

You smiled softly.

"Sure, that sounds nice. Thank you, Joel."

Before heading to the bathroom, he placed a small kiss on your forehead, lingering with his lips on your skin for longer than he had before. Your eyes fluttered closed as you listened to his footsteps out of the bedroom.

Part of you was desperate to scrub away Elijah's touch until your skin was raw. But, another part of you didn't want Joel's smell to fade from you. In his arms his scent had consumed you, replacing the smell of your laundry detergent with his.

You squeezed your eyes tightly and shook your head.

Stop this. You're projecting onto him. He's looking out for you out of the kindness of his heart and you're taking advantage of it.

You tried to distract yourself from the fixating on the feeling of Joel's lips against your skin by shedding last night's clothes and replacing them with his dressing gown. Which of course also stunk of him. Great.

"S'ready." He called.

Catching sight of you in his dressing gown, Joel had to remind himself to close his mouth.

"Suits you." He smiled.

The bathwater was obscenely pink, bubbles almost escaping over the side of the tub.

Joel stood uneasily as you smiled at the domesticity of the scene.

"I'll give ya some privacy. Make myself busy downstairs. You just holler if y'need me, alright?"

"Joel, wait. Would you... it's stupid."

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Would you sit with me? I really don't want to be alone."

Joel’s response came so quickly you didn’t even have time to feel bad for being so forward.

"Of course I will. You get yourself comfortable, I'll wait outside the door."

You discarded his dressing gown onto the floor, sinking into the warm tub. You ran some more hot water, feeling unsatisfied until the water was hot enough to leave your skin red wherever it touched.

"Come in." You called, your torso submerged underneath the bubbles with just your collarbones and toes poking out of the pink waters.

Under any other circumstance, he would've dropped to his knees by the side of the tub and told you that he had never seen someone look so perfect before. Your flushed cheeks and hair bundled behind your head against the tiles made Joel feel like he was staring at an oil painting in a gallery.

He adored you. Fuck it, he was in love with you. From the very beginning.

Joel lowered himself onto the closed toilet seat, arms resting on his knees.

"Temperature okay?" Was all he could muster.

"I added a bit more hot, I hope that's okay."

"You women and your damn hot water." He teased. "S'absolutely fine, honey."

Neither of you spoke for a little while, you rested your head back and soaked in Joel's protective presence.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Of course, Joel."

"Did he..."

"No. It's funny actually, he couldn't get it up." You said dryly.

"But he tried?"

"Yeah, he tried."

"I'll kill him."

Joel's protectiveness overwhelmed you, feeling for the first time in your life that you had someone unconditionally in your corner. You lifted your arms from the water to cover your face in embarrassment, revealing finger-shaped bruises that had formed on both of your upper arms.

"Fuck," he breathed when he caught sight of the way you had been mistreated.

He knelt down beside the bathtub, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

"What can I do, honey?" He searched your face for an answer. "Tell me how to take all this away for you."

"Joel, you've done so much already. More than I could ever ask from you."

"I just wanna fix it."

By nature, Joel was a fixer. He patched up Sarah's knees and elbows after soccer games. He bailed Tommy out of jail more times than he would admit. Hell, he even fixed things for work. It was what he did.

"I want you to take me back there." You exhaled a breath you didn't realize you had been holding. "To the apartment. I need to go back."

"Y'sure that's a good idea?"

"I am. But I need to go in alone. I just want to know you'll be waiting outside for me if I need you."

"Sweetheart, I'll always come when you call."

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #my fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedrostories #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #a bird in your teeth #a bird in your teeth fic #breakfastatjoels

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bunnylovesani · 10 months ago

Text

The Bratty Belle

Chapter 3

Summary: You drop your car off at James' shop and spend the day together, bonding more than expected when you receive a distressing phone call that makes your dark past come to light.

Tw: mentions of abuse/molestation/suicide

WC: 4k

Anxiously slamming the door shut, you got into your rusty car and started the sputtering engine. You almost lost control several times on the short drive over to James’ garage but tried your very best to park as sensibly as possible once you spotted him standing outside in his striped work suit, wrench in hand.

“You okay?” He asks tentatively as you exit the vehicle, shortly after hitting the curb.

“Yeah! Yeah, great.” You squeak, brushing some dust off your dress and stumbling over to him in your clacking heels. He looks like he’s about to say something about your driving skills but just about manages to hold it in.

“Come on through, I’ll give you the grand tour.” He opens the door and gestures for you to enter. A shiver courses through your body when his hand brushes past your lower back as you skip into the garage.

“It’s not much but it’s mine.” His voice echoes against the walls of the open space, tall ceilings and greasy oil spills in abundance.

“I like it!” You chirp, eliciting strange looks from some of his colleagues who wondered what the scantily clad floozy was doing in their workshop.

“Uh, guys- this is Bunny. I’m servicing her car.” James explains once he catches sight of their puzzled expressions and they nod at you courteously. “Through here is my office.” He continues the tour and guides you to a small but sleek room complete with a desk and computer. “Leave the car with me overnight and I’ll have it ready for you in a couple days. Do you need some driving lessons while we’re at it?” He chuckles as he leans on his desk, crossing his dirtied arms.

“I can drive perfectly well, thank you very much.” You huff, cheeks flushing at the memory of the cat you almost ran over on the way here.

“James, where’s your other tool kit- you know the one-oh. Hey.” A brunette woman with a button nose and a blue flannel shirt pops her head in. A flannel that looked suspiciously similar to the one James wore the other day.

“Hi.” You quietly reply, insecurity enveloping you. She saunters over to him and rests her elbow on his shoulder, brushing past you lightly in the process. “We have to get the Beetle fixed by Tuesday- the woman called to push the deadline up.”

“Seriously? Who does she think I am, her personal servant?” James recoils and the woman chuckles.

“Relax babe, you’re all knotted up.” She chuckles as she massages his shoulder lazily with one hand.

“Oh, and this is Bunny. Bunny, meet Vanessa. Vanessa, Bunny.” He points between you while tiredly pinching the bridge of his nose. Your lips form into a thin smile as you feel yourself shrinking.

“Aw, she’s adorable. Shy too. What’s she doing here?” She looks you up and down broodingly.

“Ask her yourself.” He pushes himself up off his desk and gives you a subtle wink as he heads out of his office. “Bunny, give me your keys and I’ll park the car into the garage. Meet me out back.”

You nod obediently as your gaze follows him out, eyes eventually meeting Vanessa’s in an uncomfortable silence.

“So. You’re his new neighbour, huh?” Vanessa opens up a pack of gum and takes a seat in James’ chair, not offering you any.

“Yeah. Moved in last week.” You shuffle nervously under her unfaltering gaze, steely and cold.

“And you’re already getting a free servicing job out of him. You work fast.” She smacks her lips and you scrunch up your nose at the strong scent of spearmint emanating from her.

“Oh no, I have every intention of paying him for all his-“

“He told me not to charge a cent for this job. Told me to put all costs on his card.” She interjects monotonously, making a stark difference to the chirpy demeanour she had when he was around.

“Oh. Well, I didn’t know that.” You reply earnestly, feeling a slightly threatening aura lingering in the air.

“Now why would a cold, self-absorbed man like James suddenly want to start doing charity work well into his 30s?” She scans you scrutinizingly and the hair on the back of your neck stands up.

“Are you accusing me of something?” You reply boldly, sensing her opinion of you had already been formed.

“I don’t know, Bunny. That depends on what your intentions are.” She straightens up in her seat and blows a bubble with her gum.

“James is waiting for me.” You head out towards the door, wishing for an end to this painfully tense interaction.

“You sure that’s not all he’s waiting for?” She quipped and it took every last bit of strength to ignore her, continuing your march out the door.

Pacing to the garage where James told you to come, your head spun with confusion; why would he want to pay for you? You knew the parts wouldn’t come cheap and he’d made it clear he wasn’t trying to pursue a relationship with you- so what did he want?

“That was quick. Thought you and Vanessa would’ve been chatting for a while longer.” He comments as he slams your car door shut, having just reparked it. “What’d she say to you?” He asks suspiciously after seeing your perplexed expression.

“Nothing. Just didn’t find the conversation too riveting. Would rather see what my favourite mechanic was up to.” You joked, stepping closer towards him. He raises his bushy brows and cracks an earnest smile, pearly whites contrasting against his sweaty, tan face.

“So what’s the verdict? Is she wrecked beyond repair?” You ask, peering over his shoulder to observe the rusty hunk of metal you called a car.

“Of course not. I’ll have her good as new by the end of the week.” He pats your shoulder as he walks by you. “Let’s go for dinner.”

“Oh?” Before you can even object, he’s unzipping his work suit and walking towards his truck.

“Get in.” He opens the passenger side door and you find yourself jumping in without a second thought.

“Burger and milkshake sound good?” He starts the engine with a roar and you nod in response. “Get this on.” He reaches around you and clips your seatbelt into place.

“Thank you.” You’re filled with confusion over his strangely paternal behaviour as Vanessa’s words echo in your head.

Glancing over to your left, you ogle the way he keeps a firm hand on the steering wheel, tapping the leather with his fingertips. His side profile is so entrancing, chiselled jawline and Adam’s apple framing his strong features perfectly.

“What are you staring at, you little creep?” He grins and you snap your head back to face the front.

“You have something on your face. Bit of smudged oil.” You point at his cheek unconvincingly, hoping he doesn’t check in the rearview mirror.

James pulls into a parking lot outside a quaint little diner and parks the car carefully before jumping out to open the door for you. You got the sense that he wasn’t usually such a cautious driver.

“A girl could get used to this.” You giggle as you take his hand and hop out of the car, walking with him to the entrance.

“It’s concerning that you find basic chivalry impressive.” He mutters, guiding you to a chequered cloth clad booth in the corner of the establishment before taking a seat with a heavy huff.

“You tired?” You ask, sitting prettily opposite him.

“Long day. Like every day.” He looks away, grabbing the menu a little too fervently. “What do you want?”

“Oh, umm...” You peer over and scan the menu but the endless options have your head spinning- you’d always been infuriatingly indecisive.

James patiently waits for a couple of minutes as you flick through the extensive pages before summoning a waitress over with a raised hand.

“I’ll have a hamburger and coffee- leave the jug- and a double cheeseburger and strawberry milkshake for the lady. Don’t forget the fries.” He fires out and hands the sluggish waitress the menu back.

“How’d you know that was what I wanted?” You squeak out, watching the waitress ring the order up in the kitchen.

“Lucky guess.” He winks. “Too hungry to wait for you to analyse the whole menu. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, but a double along with a milkshake might be a little much?” You giggle, remembering how you’d eaten already before you came by.

“Well, I have to keep you full. I can’t imagine how grumpy you get when you’re hungry.” He shakes his head at the thought.

“Here’s that milkshake for the lady and a big ole jug of coffee for you, handsome.” The waitress saunters by and pours his drink into a mug, bending over to accentuate her cleavage.

“Thanks.” He looks her up and down for the briefest moment before ducking his head, weaving it away from her to meet your eyes again. “How’s the shake, kiddo?” He smiles as you take a sip from the stripy red straw.

“Delicious. But I make it better.” You flirt, noticing the sulking waitress frowning as she trudged away.

“I’ll have to taste it sometime.” The expression on his face is calm and sincere with a hint of something in his eyes that you can’t quite explain.

“James?” You intoned, dragging out his name.

“Yes, Bunny?” He played along.

“That day before you came over for the first time, were you arguing with someone on the phone?” You queried innocently, knowing already that he was.

“You could say that.” He sighed and waved his hand dismissively as the food arrived, delivered by a waiter this time.

“Who with? It looked quite heated.” You coaxed, keen to know more.

“You talk a lot. Eat your food.” He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat before taking a big bite out of his burger.

Not wanting to push his buttons any further, you abandon your curiosity for the time being and tuck into your meal.

You and James exchange several glances as you eat in a comfortable silence, that familiar bubbling feeling rising in your chest every time you made eye contact. Once you’d finished, James swiftly paid the bill- leaving no time at all for you to voice your protests and effectively silencing you by getting up and heading out the door.

“Thanks for the lift home.” You murmured once you’d gotten back into the car and he looked at you with an expression that neared disgust.

“What was I supposed to do, leave you to walk home after I’d taken you out? Honestly, what kind of fucking idiots have you been hanging around?” He scoffs, shaking his head and you shrink down into your seat.

He wasn’t wrong, you’d never been around the gentlemanly type before and spending time with James was making you shamefully aware of that.

“Would you like to come in?” You ask sweetly, swaying on your tiptoes once he’d walked you to the front door. “I have some more of those girl scout cookies you liked.”

“Maybe just for one.” He chuckled at the mention of the sweet treat before strolling into your apartment.

“Here you go.” You retrieved the pastries from the kitchen and handed them to James, who was standing patiently in the arch under your doorway with an endearing smile painted on his face. “I added some other things I thought you might like.”

He inspected the transparent bag laden with cookies, cinnamon swirls and chocolate croissants- lovingly wrapped with a satin pink bow.

“It looks so pretty, I don’t even want to open it.” He stares at it in disbelief. “Thank you. This is so nice. No one’s ever….you really made all this?”

You nodded and his earnest gratitude warmed your heart.

“I should be the one thanking you.” You brush your hand against the side of his arm. “I’ve never been shown so much kindness.”

“Jeez, kid, it was only dinner.” He chuckles.

“And it’s only some cookies.” You assert and he stares at you with a look of understanding unlike one you’d ever seen before. “I know about the car too. Vanessa told me.”

He curses under his breath and looks away, almost looking embarrassed.

“And you don’t even want to sleep with me. I’m confused, James. Why are you being so good to me?” You stare into his eyes searching for an explanation.

“Bunny, how can you even say that?” He grabs your face affectionately with furrowed brows before awkwardly retreating his hand a moment later. “You…I don’t even know what to say to that. As if that’s the only interest a man could have in you.”

“Well, isn’t it?” You ask dejectedly.

“Of course not!” His hands settle for holding your wrists, needing to touch you in some way but not wanting to overstep.

“So what reason do you have?”

He looks so conflicted that it takes him a little while to form his next sentence.

“You seem like a good kid. If I can help you out, I’m happy to.” He replies with a heavy sigh- as if he’s releasing thoughts that shouldn’t be there.

“And your girlfriend doesn’t mind?” You ask curiously.

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks. My business is my own.” You look down and notice how firm his hold over your wrists still is. “And I wouldn’t go as far as to call her my girlfriend. We’ve only been out on a couple dates.”

Try as you may, you couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across your beaming face. You expected him to scold you in his usual cocky manner- to make some kind of comment about how that didn’t mean he was interested but he simply smiled back.

A shrill ringing filled the room and you recognised it as the sound of your phone.

“One second.” You giggled at James and he nodded, stepping aside to answer your call. Looking down at the bright screen, you saw it was your step-sister calling.

“Daisy?” You picked up hesitantly- you weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

“Dad’s in the hospital. It’s not looking good.” Her grave voice exhaled and a shiver ran down your spine. You hated when she referred to him as your father.

“W-what’s wrong with him?” You ask with morbid curiosity.

“He was in an accident. Hit head-on by a drunk driver on his way to work this morning. You need to get here!” She choked back tears.

“I don’t know, Dais…” Your mind flooded with childhood memories of your stepdad. Not a single one was pleasant. He might’ve been Daisy’s dad but he sure as hell wasn’t yours.

“What do you mean you don’t know?! There’s no question, you need to come here and see him now!” She shrieked, desperation laced in her voice.

“I told you I’d never set eyes on that man again. This doesn’t change that.” You tried your best to sound stern despite the pain that was building.

“I can’t believe you’re being so selfish. Distancing yourself from your family just to prove a point when we already know you lied.” The venom in her voice strikes you to your core.

“I have done nothing but tell the truth. You all chose to take his side.” The tears started spilling. “My only real family was my mother. And he is the reason she’s no longer here.”

“She’s got no one to blame but herself. She took the easy way out. I guess you’re a coward just like her.”

“I hope he dies. Slowly and painfully.” You spit down the line before hanging up and throwing your phone across the room, a sobbing fit racking through your body.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” James rushes over, wrapping his arms protectively around your shoulders. You’d forgotten he was even here but you were glad to be shrouded in his warm embrace.

“My stepdad…he’s dying- and I’m happy about it? And I think I might’ve messed things up forever with the only family I have left. I’m a terrible person.” You choked out the words between snivels.

“I don’t know about the rest but I know for sure you’re not a bad person. Calm down sweetheart, everything’s okay. I’m here.” You weep into his chest, staining his shirt with thick tears. “Why do you hate your stepdad?”

“Wh-when I was a kid, he’d - well he’d-“

“Take your time, angel.” He pulled you in closer when you struggled to get the words out.

“When my mom first married him, he’d sneak into my room at night and do things to me. I was too scared to say anything. He said it’d be our little secret.” You shudder, feeling more vulnerable in this moment than you had in years.

“Bunny…” James looked distraught, his face contorted and twisted into a look of disbelief, sorrow and disgust. “And you feel bad for wishing he’d die? If the bastard survives, I’ll go to that hospital and finish him off myself.”

You stop the stream of tears for just long enough to gaze up at him pitifully- in a state of utter confusion that someone could feel so much empathy for you.

“And I take it your stepsister doesn’t believe you?” He continues, rubbing your back in an attempt to instil you with calm.

“No.” You sniffle. “She thinks I’m making it all up.”

“Did your mother know?” He asks cautiously, careful not to upset you any further.

“No, no I hid it all. It was only a couple years ago that I worked up the courage to let it all out. Thought it would help but it turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. It filled her with such regret and shame that she didn’t even get to finalise the divorce before she… she couldn’t live with herself knowing she’d let that happen to me. So she, she-“

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He pulled you down on the couch, sweetly kissing your forehead and smoothing your hair as you cried your heart out.

“Daisy’s right- I am selfish. If I’d never said anything, she would’ve still-“

“Don’t.” He interrupted you. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

You were used to being rattled beyond repair whenever you came into contact with your stepfamily- but you weren’t used to having someone alongside you to pick up the pieces. Something so unfamiliar had never felt so good.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked with such tooth-rotting sweetness you were sure he couldn’t refuse. His eyes darted back and forth and he licked his lips in thought.

��Like, for the night?”

“Yes. Just one night. Please.” Your reddened, glassy eyes looked up at him sanguinely.

“Of course.” He whispered, rubbing the side of your cheek with his thumb. “Anything you need.”

Your faces were barely 2 inches apart but your gaze was stolen by his soft lips, plump with temptation. He said anything you need, right? Leaning in a little more until the tips of your noses were touching, you planted a gentle kiss on his parted lips. They rested against each other for a moment before James kissed you back, snaking his hand into your hair as he brushed his lips against your own passionately.

“Wait.” He pulled away with a wet smack. “You’re vulnerable right now. This is wrong.”

“Then why does it feel so right?” You attempted to close the gap between you but he backed away again, imposing an ever bigger distance.

“Bunny.” He warned, not budging.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You looked down in shame.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He looked out the window and you both suddenly became aware of how rapidly night had fallen. “Let’s get you ready for bed, hm?”

“But what about-“

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He quickly resolves the matter and stands up before heading to your bathroom. “Come on, let’s get that makeup off.” He beckons you and you slug over to him.

“But I look awful.” You sulk, hesitant to reveal your natural face to him despite crying most of your mascara off.

“That’s not possible.” He mumbles in a low voice, handing you some pre soaked cotton pads.

You swipe the black streaks away and wash your face as he leans against the ledge of the bathtub.

“All done. Are you gonna run away screaming now?” You playfully cover your face with your hands but he stands up and tucks your wrists down.

“You’re perfect.” He stares right through you, not letting you wriggle out of his grasp until his words sink in.

“Thanks.” You mutter uncomfortably, not sure what to make of the feelings he was bringing out in you.

You amble over to your room and change into your pyjamas; James being the gentleman he was closed the door behind you and waited patiently.

“You can come in.” You call out and he enters after a few moments to find you in your comfiest set of fluffy pyjamas. “Usually I wear something a little more cute but today, I just-“

“Stop explaining yourself.” He interrupted you again. He loved doing that. “You’ve never looked cuter. I like my girls a little fuzzy.” You giggle and playfully slap his hand away as he pinches your side.

“Thought you said you don’t see me in that kinda way.” You questioned teasingly.

“And it’s time for bed, little lady.” He chuckles and you throw a pillow his way. “Under the covers, c’mon.”

You shuffle into bed as he tucks you in, folding the frilly duvet in around you until you were safely cocooned.

“Alright, all tucked in. You gonna be okay?” He raises his eyebrows with the cutest concern and you nod drearily. “I’m right next door if you need something. Good night, sweetheart.” He places a gentle kiss on your forehead before turning the lights off and walking out.

After several hours spent tossing and turning, you resign yourself to a night of no sleep. The cogs in your mind whir with dizzying speed and the memories that resurface make you nauseous. You shook your head every time the image of your stepdad, twisted grin beaming down at you took shape but it wasn’t enough to clear your dirtied mind.

Sitting up with a huff, you turned your bedside lamp on and wondered if James was asleep yet. Creeping out the door, you heard his light snoring from down the hall as you tiptoed to the living room.

He looked so peaceful snuggled around the thin bedspread you kept on your couch but it dawned on you that in your distress, you’d forgotten to give the man a proper blanket. Quickly backtracking to retrieve a quilt, you grabbed your favourite pink one before going back to precariously swathe him in it, trying not to rouse.

“Mm, Bunny?” He whispered sluggishly, still half asleep.

“Just giving you a blanket. Go back to sleep.” You hushed before turning around to walk away but you felt a strong grip wrap around your wrist.

“Are you okay?” He opens his dreamy blue eyes and sits up a little.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just can’t sleep.” You admit, already feeling bad that you’d woken him up.

He shuffles back a little before grabbing the corner of the blanket and lifting it up.

“Come on. I know you want to.” He smirks and you bite your lip shyly.

Moments later, you’ve crawled in beside him and you’re enveloped in his arms- the musky scent of his faded cologne lingering under your nose as you press your face deeper into his chest. He held a protective arm around your shoulder as yours lay slouched around his waist, the heavy weight of the duvet pressing down comfortingly on you both.

James fell into the arms of Morpheus soon after and the gentle hum of his breathing resonated through the night, helping you fall into the most peaceful slumber you’d had since you were a child.

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ophanum · 11 days ago

Note

u say u write for charaters that dont get as much recognition, could you please write general and nsfw headcanons for adged up karma akabane? i think hed have so many piercings espescially a tongue piercing and an eyebrow one and he would be such a freak fs fs

Karma's multiple piercings serve as a significant part of his identity. He has a prominent tongue piercing, a stylish eyebrow piercing, and several ear piercings, including hoops and studs. Each piece of jewelry reflects his bold personality and love for self-expression. He often switches out his piercings based on his mood or outfit, enjoying the playful aspect of accessorizing.

Karma has cultivated a unique style that blends streetwear with punk influences. He favors fitted graphic tees with edgy designs, distressed denim, and oversized jackets. Layering is key to his look; he might throw on a long flannel shirt over a tank top or add a studded leather jacket for an extra edge. Accessories like chokers, layered chains, and chunky bracelets complete his outfits, showcasing his individuality.

His playful personality makes him a magnet for attention. Karma loves to joke around, often finding ways to lighten the mood, even in tense situations. He’s not above pulling pranks on friends or using his charm to deflect serious conversations. His charisma is infectious, and people are drawn to his energy, making him a natural leader among his peers.

After years of honing his skills, Karma has become a formidable fighter, known for his agility and speed. He approaches combat with a strategic mindset, often analyzing his opponents and using their strengths against them. His background in the school’s rigorous environment has sharpened his instincts, allowing him to adapt quickly in any situation. He also enjoys sharing his knowledge, teaching others self-defense in a playful yet effective manner.

Beneath his teasing exterior, Karma is fiercely loyal to his friends. He has a strong sense of justice and will not hesitate to step in when someone he cares about is in trouble. Whether it’s defending a friend from bullies or helping someone in need, he often finds himself in situations where he’s protecting those he loves. His friends appreciate this side of him, knowing they can rely on him when it counts.

Karma thrives on adventure, whether it’s exploring new places, trying out extreme sports, or engaging in thrilling activities. He has a strong sense of curiosity that drives him to seek out new experiences, and he often drags his friends along for the ride. This adventurous spirit makes him exciting to be around, as he always has something fun planned.

With his confidence and charm, Karma is an expert flirter. He enjoys teasing his crushes and has a knack for making people feel special. He’ll drop subtle compliments and playful jabs, often leading to light-hearted banter. His playful nature keeps interactions fun and exciting, making it hard for anyone to resist his allure.

Karma brings his adventurous nature into the bedroom, where he’s always eager to explore new kinks and fantasies. He enjoys discussing boundaries and preferences with his partner, ensuring that both of them feel comfortable while pushing limits together. His playful approach keeps things exciting, as he loves surprising his partner with new experiences.

With his tongue piercing, Karma knows how to use it to his advantage. He takes pride in his oral skills, knowing exactly how to drive his partner wild. The added sensation of the piercing only enhances the experience, making him more confident in his abilities to please. He enjoys experimenting with different techniques, always eager to learn what his partner enjoys most.

In the bedroom, Karma has a dominant streak, but he balances it with a keen awareness of his partner's needs. He thrives on being in control, enjoying the thrill of taking charge during intimate moments. However, he always checks in with his partner, ensuring they’re comfortable and enjoying themselves. His attentiveness makes the experience more fulfilling for both.

Karma loves to build anticipation, often teasing his partner before things heat up. He might drop suggestive comments during casual conversations or lightly brush against them in public, creating an electrifying tension. His playful nature allows him to turn even the most mundane moments into something charged with flirtation.

He appreciates aesthetics, including his partner’s body, and takes time to explore and admire every inch of them. Karma enjoys giving compliments and expressing his admiration, making his partner feel desired and cherished. He believes that taking the time to appreciate each other enhances intimacy and connection.

After intense sessions, Karma knows the importance of aftercare. He’ll be affectionate and attentive, ensuring his partner feels cherished and comfortable. Cuddling, gentle caresses, and sweet whispers are his go-to aftercare methods. He often asks how his partner feels and what they enjoyed most, wanting to deepen their connection.

Feeling adventurous, Karma sometimes suggests a little public play, whether it’s light teasing in crowded places or more daring encounters in secluded areas. He loves the thrill of being caught or the risk of being discovered, adding an exhilarating layer to intimacy. This spontaneity keeps things exciting, as he thrives on the adrenaline rush that comes with such escapades.

Karma Akabane leaned against the kitchen counter, the soft glow of the overhead lights illuminating the myriad of piercings on his face. The eyebrow piercing glinted with mischief, and his tongue piercing added a playful flair to his smirk as he watched his partner, Ami, busy preparing dinner.

“Need any help in there?” he called out, his voice dripping with casual charm. The fitted graphic tee he wore clung to his toned frame, accentuating the way he carried himself—confident, yet effortlessly relaxed.

“Just slicing some veggies!” she replied, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. “You could set the table, though.”

“Setting the table? How boring!” he teased, winking. “I’m much more useful in the bedroom, you know.”

Ami laughed, shaking her head. “I’m sure you are, but dinner comes first. And don’t think I’m letting you distract me.”

“Challenge accepted.” Karma stepped closer, leaning his hands on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Just remember, I’m the master of distractions.”

As he watched her work, he couldn’t help but admire the way she moved—graceful and focused. The warmth of the moment filled the room, but a familiar thrill of mischief coursed through him. He leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear, his breath warm and playful. “I could think of a few ways to make dinner much more... exciting.”

Ami turned to face him, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. “Karma, not now. We can have fun later.”

“Why wait?” he pressed, stepping closer, his fingers brushing against her waist. “The night is young, and I’m feeling adventurous.”

Just then, the phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the tension. Karma sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine, but you owe me after this.”

“Deal,” she said, reaching for the phone. As she glanced at the screen, a playful smile danced on her lips. “It’s Yukari. She wants to know if we’re coming to the party tonight.”

“Party?” Karma’s interest piqued. “Count me in! You know I can’t resist a good gathering.”

With dinner quickly forgotten, they decided to get ready for the night. Karma slipped into a distressed denim jacket, the fabric torn in all the right places, enhancing his edgy look. He adorned his ears with hoops and studs, opting for a choker that accentuated his sharp features.

“Ready to steal the show?” he asked, checking himself out in the mirror.

“More like ready to keep you in check,” Ami quipped, rolling her eyes but smiling all the same.

The atmosphere at the party was electric, pulsating with music and laughter. Karma thrived in the chaos, his playful spirit lighting up the room. He slid through the crowd, a natural flirt with everyone, but his eyes were always drawn back to Ami.

“Having fun?” he shouted over the music as he approached her, his hands slipping into his pockets, the cool metal of his piercings catching the light.

“More than you know!” she replied, her voice bright. “You’re the one making everyone laugh.”

“Just doing my thing,” he winked, his confidence radiating. “You ready for a little adventure?”

Ami raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s find a quieter spot. I want to show you something.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Something I’ve been thinking about.”

Curiosity piqued, she followed him through the bustling party until they found a small balcony overlooking the city skyline, a quiet escape from the lively chaos below.

Karma leaned against the railing, gazing out at the twinkling lights, a moment of calm before the storm. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he said, turning to face her, his playful demeanor softening into something more sincere.

“Yeah? What about us?” she asked, crossing her arms, a smile playing on her lips.

Karma took a step closer, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. “About how much I enjoy having you in my life. And how much I want to explore... everything with you.”

Ami felt her heart race as he leaned in, his breath warm against her lips. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension crackling in the air between them. “Karma...”

“Just trust me,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her jawline. “Let go for a moment.”

In a swift motion, he closed the distance, capturing her lips with his. The kiss was electric—playful yet deep, a blend of teasing and raw passion that sent shivers down her spine. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them wrapped in a bubble of warmth and desire.

Karma deepened the kiss, his hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer. He could feel the weight of the world lift off his shoulders, lost in the moment, the thrill of being with her igniting every nerve ending in his body.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, breathless. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“I think I have an idea,” she replied, her cheeks flushed. “But we should probably head back before someone realizes we’re gone.”

“Who cares?” Karma shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “Let them wonder. I’m enjoying this too much to care.”

With a playful smirk, he leaned in again, capturing her lips for another quick kiss before pulling away and guiding her back inside. The party awaited them, but for Karma, the night had already exceeded his expectations.

As they re-entered the vibrant chaos, he felt a rush of exhilaration. They were tangled in a web of newfound intimacy and shared laughter, ready to face whatever the night had in store—together.

#karma akabane #assassination classroom #karma akabane fanfiction #karma akabane x Oc #karma akabane x reader

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oliversrarebooks · 10 months ago

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 35: Oliver's Walk

Previous Masterlist Next

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control

Oliver woke up slowly, stretching and yawning and rolling over several times to doze off again, before finally sitting up.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. He was utterly relaxed as he lounged in bed, with nothing particularly pressing driving him out of his soft cocoon of blankets. He was free to daydream about what had happened the night before, how pleasing he'd been to his master.

He'd successfully fed his master, made him happier and stronger, fulfilled the purpose Miss Lily had set for him back at the auction house, and it felt just as good as he'd hoped it would. Better, truly.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was low in the sky, so he had some time before Alexander awoke. He didn't even really seem to have particular duties here besides the feedings and making his master coffee. He'd have plenty of time to have breakfast and read.

Before too long, he was in the library with a steaming hot mug, perusing the books once again and trying to pick out something to sit down with. He chose a comprehensive-looking book on merfolk, bound in attractive teal letter with embossed silver ink, and was delighted to find that it was illustrated with many interesting plates of strange sea creatures.

All of this was real -- merfolk, vampires, magic -- and he was a part of it.

It felt right, the distress of how he'd arrived here slowly starting to ebb from his mind. It was just so comfortable here in his Master's library, curled into a leather sofa with a mug of rich coffee.

As the sun dipped low in the sky, forcing Oliver to ignite a gas lamp to have enough light to read, he remembered that he wanted to make fresh coffee for his master as he awoke. It was the least he could do, really.

He bought you at auction, you were kidnapped --

Oliver pushed aside the unhelpful intrusion as he bustled about the kitchen. He was here now, with no means of escape. Wasn't it better to be contented with it?

"Good evening, Oliver," said Alexander from the kitchen doorway. "I thought I smelled coffee. Thank you for making it."

"You're welcome, sir," said Oliver, pleased to be helpful. His master really did look much healthier, his eyes brighter and skin less deathly pale, and he was glad to see it.

Useful, he was useful. And wanted.

Alexander sipped at the coffee, and nodded in approval. "The weather is fine tonight, if a bit brisk. I was thinking some fresh air would do me good. Would you care to accompany me on my walk?"

"Yes, sir!" Oliver eagerly jumped at the chance. He hadn't been outside for more than a few minutes ever since the night he'd been kidnapped.

Soon enough, he was perusing his wardrobe for something warm that didn't expose his neck, and settled on a soft red flannel shirt and slacks. Everything fit him perfectly, which made sense given that his master had his measurements from the auction house.

And then his master opened the front door, and he was out in the cool night air, in the ordinary bustle of the city, unrestrained except for the very real fetters on his mind. Alexander just trusted him to stand on the sidewalk and wait patiently while he fiddled with the key to the mansion. Oliver glanced around at the ordinary people going about their usual nightly business. A workman in overalls tipped his hat and bid Oliver good evening. No one would ever have guessed that he was in thrall to a vampire.

"How about the park?" Alexander wrapped around Oliver's arm possessively as they began to make their way down the street, stirring up the deeply buried desires Oliver had often felt while watching other people walk down the street arm-in-arm. Even if they were master and thrall and not lovers or even truly friends... perhaps he was affection starved enough that simply feeling wanted was enough.

He couldn't help but notice how passersby seemed to instinctually give them a wide berth. It was no doubt a result of his Master's vampiric aura. How had he not sensed it before, when Alexander was a customer in his shop? Or had he, and it was one of the things that had interested him in his former patron long before he realized Alexander's true nature?

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it? Crisp and clear," said Alexander, He gazed up at the sky, and Oliver's gaze followed. The moon was half-full and bright stars were visible, with no clouds in sight. "An ideal night for stargazing. Perhaps I'll perch myself on the roof later. You're welcome to join me. I could teach you how to read the stars."

"You know fortune-telling, sir?"

"A dear friend of mine taught me," he said. "I don't put real stock in it, of course. Comforting fairy tales."

"I've rather always enjoyed comforting fairy tales, sir."

"As do I."

They passed a grand theater, where well-dressed patrons in fine suits and furs were lining up to see an evening performance. Alexander stopped to look at the scene. "Do you enjoy live music, Oliver? The theater? Stage performances in general?"

"It's not something I partook in often, sir, but I think I would enjoy it, given a chance." Money had often been tight, movies were cheap, and books were always at hand, so the sort of high society entertainment offered by the theater Alexander was pointing out to him had not been a priority.

"The next performance at this theater is going to be a renowned ballet company from France. I've been spending too much time hidden away in my manor lately, so I was thinking of attending. Would you be interested?"

"Me, sir?" He was surprised that his master was inviting him along to the ballet, as though he were a companion and not a thrall. "I think it'd be very interesting, but I don't know the etiquette. I don't want to embarrass you, sir."

"Nonsense, you wouldn't embarrass me in the slightest. You're perfectly conditioned and I would set out an appropriate wardrobe for you. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing other than enjoying the dance. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds more than agreeable, sir," he said, pleased that his master trusted him, and that he would be allowed entertainment and pleasurable outings.

They reached the park, and the moon and flickering gaslights gave just enough light for Oliver to see the trees turning red and gold. It'd be the height of fall soon enough, and he'd been looking forward to fresh apples and cooler temperatures. Now, he was just grateful to be here in the park, with the chill night wind blowing across his face -- during his time in the auction house's captivity, he had often feared never seeing the outside again.

"Oliver," said Alexander, breaking his train of thought. "I would like to get to know you better."

Oliver looked away. "I'm afraid there isn't a lot to get to know, sir. You already know of my bookshop, which consumed the bulk of my time."

"I'm sure there's more than that." His intense eyes bore down on Oliver. "I wish for you to be happy while you're in my care. What is it that you want? I'll try to provide, if I can."

Was this a test? "I wish to serve you, Master?"

The displeased look in his Master's eyes indicated that that wasn't the answer he wanted. "I mean before all this. Before me, before vampires. I want to honestly know what it was you desired from life."

He was a bit stunned that his master had even asked that, surprised that he could still have desires other than feeding and serving the vampire. What did he want?

Growing up, he hadn't had much in the way of dreams. Dreams were for the books he read. His designated path was to inherit the bookshop from his ailing father and run it according to his best instincts -- and he'd been reasonably content with that future. Other dreams, of seeing the world, of adventure and romance, of art and culture, those had always seemed so far away, meant for other people. There was no use in trading a comfortable, ordinary life to chase something risky. He'd never been the sort.

Strange, then, that the first time in a long time that he'd given serious thought to what he wanted in life was after being imprisoned and conditioned.

He trusted his master. He didn't think he would be punished for speaking his mind. He'd said there would be no punishments, after all.

"I would like to travel, sir," he said softly. "I always wanted to see more of the world than this small city. To enjoy different cultures, to see the sights I read about in books... but money was always tight, and I had the bookshop to look after, and the idea of leaving home was overwhelming. But that's one thing I think I might want."

"Indeed. I'm much the same." Alexander sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm as trapped in the city as you, the curse of my sire. Otherwise, I would happily take you along to travel the world. Someday..."

"Why has your sire trapped you in the city, sir?"

"What else would you desire?" said his master, as though he hadn't heard the question. "There must be something in my power to grant you."

Something smaller, perhaps. "I enjoy sketching, although I've never been good at it. If I could have a notebook and pencils."

"Of course, that's no trouble at all. I'll locate the finest supplies in the city. Anything else?"

"Well... I spent a great deal of my time thinking about the supernatural, sir," said Oliver. "Now that I know that the inhabitants of fairy tales and horror stories are real, I think I'd enjoy learning all that I can about them."

Alexander brightened at this. "Now, that's absolutely within my wheelhouse. When we return to the manor, I can put together an assortment of books that will serve as a primer on the actual supernatural world, not the fantasies imagined by humans," he said. "There are places I could take you to meet more of my kind, and others besides. Social clubs I don't often frequent, but would be welcome. I could keep you safe."

"Oh, can you?" said a snide voice behind them.

His master whipped around in a flash, pushing Oliver behind him. It was a young woman in a torn, dirty red dress, her messy hair falling around her face. "You've got a real treat there, don't you?" she said, grinning. "He smells delicious, and I'm awfully hungry."

"Newly sired," Alexander said. "I advise you against challenging vampires like me unless you are sure you can win. There's plenty of blood in the city, but also plenty of vampire hunters, and a fight could attract their attention."

"What's a little attention? I'm not just hungry for blood, you know. I'm hungry to take down cocky old vampires like you who haven't been challenged in a century. I think -- I think --"

His Master's vampiric aura had been growing unbearably thick and oppressive as they talked. Oliver found all thoughts being forced from his mind, fighting the urge to drop to his knees in a daze. The other vampire seemed to be struggling just as much, her speech faltering and knees shaking.

"I remember what it was like to be a young vampire," said Alexander, stopping a few steps away form her. "That's why I'm going to give you a chance to leave. Go to 32 Sparrow Road, about a mile and a half from here, and you'll find a place that sells blood cheap. Have your fill there."

The vampire nodded slowly, and then faster, backing away from his master and breaking into a run.

"You scared her off," said Oliver, as his thoughts began to return to him.

"It's the best way to handle situations like this. It's unlikely she'll last out the winter, but I don't care to be the one to kill her. Even if she's learned her lesson about confronting stronger vampires, she'll probably be picked off by a hunter while stalking the streets for food." Alexander shrugged. "In fact, if there are fledglings about, there are probably hunters. Let's go home before we receive any more unwanted company."

Oliver wasn't sure if it was his imagination or if Alexander really was gripping him more tightly on their way back to the manor.

"Let me check the mail before we go inside," said Alexander, pulling a few cards from the box. "Oh, a calling card from Lily. I suppose she did say she would be by for a social call soon. And she wants to bring Ruth." He turned to Oliver. "I believe you've met Lily's thrall, Miriam. Ruth will probably bring her favorite thrall, Charlie. You'll have someone to talk to that isn't a vampire."

"That sounds very good, sir." Oliver was surprised yet again, as he didn't expect to be allowed to socialize with other thralls. Miriam wasn't much of a conversationalist, but perhaps this Charlie would be better.

His master was flipping through a few more envelopes until he reached one plastered with stickers and stamps. Overseas mail, it seemed to be. Alexander's face lit up in a way Oliver hadn't seen before. "Let's go in."

Alexander only stopped briefly to remove his shoes and coat before heading into the library, Oliver trailing behind. He tossed the rest of the mail down on the desk before fetching a letter opener and ripping open the mail that had captured his attention. His eyes traveled back and forth rapidly, his smile growing.

"Sir?" said Oliver, unable to contain his curiosity.

"Oliver," said Alexander, startled as though he'd forgotten Oliver was there. "My dear friend is arriving for a short visit in the next few weeks."

"You seem very pleased about this, sir," he said. "Is your friend also a vampire?"

"You have nothing to fear. He'll like you."

He noticed that Alexander didn't say that Oliver would like him.

"I was going to put together a reading list for you, wasn't I?" said his master, breezing past Oliver and into the stacks, that uncharacteristic smile still plastered on his face. "Let me put that together, and that will occupy you while I compose my response to my friend."

Oliver nodded, questions swirling in his mind, unsure which, of any, to ask, and feeling that Alexander was likely to dodge them all.

Previous Masterlist Next

A bit of an interlude before the shit hits the fan.

I'm trying to build up a bit of a buffer so that I can continue weekly postings of the main story, and then I hope to burn down some of this inbox backlog...

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives

#whump #whump writing #whumper #whumpee #vampire whumper #vampire #mind control #captivity #rare bookseller #alexander #oliver

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 7 months ago

Text

13 (hanjisung)

One foot in front of the other, shouldn't be too bad. One and two and three and for. And five. And six. You somehow manage to climb up the stairs, the steaming hot bowl of kimchi jjigae still perfectly intact in your hands, you almost want to pat yourself on the back for succeeding in not spilling a single drop.

You tap the base of the door with your foot, carefully balancing your weight on your knees so that you don't tumble to the ground, and luckily enough Han opens the door for you, a tired but still bright smile on his face: "baby", he sighs softly, letting you in so you can quickly place the bowl down on the table, away from the scattered, crumpled paper sheets and portable keyboard.

Han had recently turned the spare room upstairs into his little at home studio. It reflected his personality so well, his sunset to sunrise lamp glowing in the corner, a few guitars hanging on the wall, a small, black leathery couch at the back, conveniently displaying an arrangement of fuzzy blankets. Cozy vibes and the persistent smell of his cologne and half empty coffee cups.

It was his refuge, his sanctuary. You barely stepped foot in it, only occasionally gathering up the discarded take out containers and forgotten plaid flannels and hoodies left amassed on the spinning chair, you were so careful even while vacuuming the place, for you didn't want to taint his favourite room in the house, didn't want to disturb the place where magic was created on the daily.

"I know you said you weren't too hungry but you've been holed up in here the whole night, please have at least a few spoonfuls", you encourage meekly, pointing at the soup you had just placed on the desk, Han nods and and sniffs the fragrant, hearty smell of his dinner, scooting his chair closer to the edge of the seat so he can reach the bowl more comfortably,"I will, thank you for taking care of me when i forget to", he jokes. Kind of.

He only ever half joked when it came down to his mental health. The smile on his lips not quite reaching his dark circled eyes, a pencil still in his hand, the suffused pale blue light of his computer screen casting its glow on the wall: you had interrupted him while he was clearly writing a new song, and you felt bad. For writing and composing music was the one thing that kept him sane, helped him process his emotions and turmoil.

He was insanely talented and imaginative as is but whenever he went through a rougher patch, his songwriting skills just went up several different notches. The pain in his heart and the fuzziness in his head tragically pulled out the best musical talent in him. Sometimes he'd let himself be consumed by sleepless nights spent with his headphones on and endless cups of coffee and more half finished lyrics than he could count.

Nodding sympathetically, you place a small kiss on top of his head and hug his frame briefly, your hands slipping beneath the collar of his white and blue checkered shirt than swallowed him whole, then down onto his front, briefly circling his torso, his small waist that drove you insane.

You gently pat his tummy and his stomach, chambers of his silent distress, the anxiety you knew was slowly but surely eating him up from the inside. "I love you, I'll leave you to your masterpiece", you whisper, reluctantly letting go of him.

The house falls quiet if not for the faintest strumming of a guitar, a few chords being played on the recorder, a gentle lullaby floating in the air as you go about the rest of your late evening meal prepping for the next few days and then cleaning up.

When the clock strikes just 10 minutes past eleven you plop two herbal tea bags into their designated ceramic cups and lean on the counter, propping yourself up on your elbow while you wait for the tea to brew. A yawn escaping your lips as late night approaches.

You quietly head upstairs, both cups in your hands while you mentally curse yourself for the handles are not scalding against your palms but still hot enough to feel the slight burn on your skin. This time the door to Han's studio is ajar, so it's a little easier to slip through: curled up on his chair, eyes closed and a serene smile on his relaxed lips, big headphones snug on his ears, he looks divine. Effortlessly beautiful.

It's heartwarming, really, to see him so fully immersed into his own music, the love of his life. It must be so cathartic for him, you think to yourself, deeply grateful for you get to witness just how art and artist save each other day by day. An impelling urge to kiss his face and his beautiful mind begins to prickle your skin and you're just one breath away from him when the song in his headphones stops and Han blinks his eyes open, looking a little startled as he finds you right there,peering into his face, likely with the most mad heart eyes ever.

"SORRY! didn't mean to scare you! You just looked so ...at peace", you mumble, setting down the mugs as he removes his headphones and chuckles, "that's okay, thank you for the tea", he replies quietly, smiling at you and then puckering up his rose coloured lips, requesting a kiss with no use of his words. And you comply eagerly.

"Is the next skz album coming along well?", you inquire, mollified the second your boyfriend's attention is fully diverted from his computer screen to your body, hands resting on your waist, the soft, warm pressure so comforting one second and then so delightfully flustering the next, especially when they briefly climb up your back, a single finger running down your spine, guiding you onto his lap, "mmh I think these songs are for me only, wanna have a listen?", he offers, holding out his headphones for you.

With your back resting against his chest and his arms securely wrapped around your waist, you close your eyes and let the notes fill you your ears, his melodic voice travelling up your eardrums, your brain, your heart. His tone emotional, deep, intense, sometimes desperate, shaking you from the inside out. Not that you didn't expect that, you knew very well just how much of a musical genius he was, but each and everytime his solo songs just hit you, they hit differently, for he really poured his heart and soul into them, tugged at all the right heart strings.

Transported into this other world, where the sound of his voice and the guitars and drums are the only things in existence inside your head, you barely notice Han peering closely at you, a grin on his face, one of his hands tantalizing on the hem of your shirt.

You only physically shake yourself awake when you feel his lips on your neck, soft but lingering kisses down the side, his hand now well beneath your shirt, gripping one cup of your bra confidently yet not aggressively, just enough to elicit the final electrifying tremor that has you removing his headphones in a haste and land back on earth, eyes wide, a stupid grin on your own face: "oh you've come back to me, finally. I thought my songs made you fall asleep", he teases, and you're so glad, so glad to see his playful side again, the snakes of anxiety clearly having relented their choking grip on him.

"I was just thoroughly enjoying the experience, listening to your music first is always such a blessing, I'm honored. With every new masterpiece your make I'm just... in awe. You truly have a gift, Hannie", you confess earnestly, loving the way he still blushes lightly and looks down, too shy to accept the compliments.

Han sighs contently and presses his lips to your cheek, "you're spoiling me, today and always", he mumbles, squeezing your sides briefly, "you're going to have my brain go rotten, I love it. I love you", he adds, smiling that heart shaped smile of his, "finish up your tea, I'll be done here in hopefully just half an hour and then we can go to bed okay?", he suggests, clearly noticing the veil of sleepiness behind your eyes.

He knew he was a night owl and you were not, noticed all the details, all the little tell signs you were getting tired after a long day, he always read you like a book, which was both endearing and fascinating, flattering, even, for how much interest he took in you, knew exactly what he needed to know about you like a manual.

"Is it okay if I stay here and wait for you? I'd like to listen to those two songs some more", you ask tentatively, gesturing for the headphones, "but like... It's okay if not. I can definitely just wait in our bedroom, I don't want to impose", you add in a fret, the last thing you want is to intrude in his space even more today. Though you really want to listen to his music more. Like really, really.

Han personally takes the headphones and clicks on the little loop icon on his phone screen before handing them both to you, the white, blank cover art for the mp3 track he had downloaded glowing in between you two, "impose? This home is mine just how much as it is yours, you can absolutely stay here, have a little nap too if you'd like, though I'll try to be quick and wrap up here", he reassures, "I appreciate that but... but this is your safe space, your sacred room", you reply, stroking his cheek, "yeah well I want you here, so go lay down and enjoy your private music session", he asserts playfully, a gentle resolve to his voice as he pouts.

During days when we were young and naïve, what we loved Were your pure, clear eyes that gazed into you and me, Ah-ah-ah Ah-ah-ah Ah-ah-ah Ah-ah-ah The night I walked you home, my warm spring days The day when thick mist filled the air

The high falsetto, the heart wrenching intensity of his vocals, the guitars reverberating in the background, you're floating. Head above water, just filled with the honey of his voice as your body glides on the surface of the water. Arms and legs straight, stretched out. You're so light and weightless you could forever roam the waters, motionless.

At least until something hefty and warm falls delicately on top of you, depositing on your chest and your torso and your legs like a light knitted blanket. Balmy leaves, a hint of mint, perhaps some musk, something stronger and amber like, leathery almost, wafting through your nostrils. Something soft tickles your jawline and your chin, your neck. One of your ears unclogs and something falls down your shoulder: "my sweet, perfect peach, hello, welcome back from the land of dreams".

Han chuckles from above you, a smrik on his face as watches you blink confusedly, the remnants of the same melody you had probably overplayed still playing distantly in the background. So maybe you weren't just floating on water but actually just laying down on the couch in your boyfriend's studio, the very same boyfriend currently settled right on top of you, curious brown eyes looking intently at you.

You giggle, embarrassed, and try to hide your face behind your hands as you cover your eyes and cheeks, "gosh... how long was I asleep for?", Han giggles himself and moves your hands away from your face, he leans down to kiss your lips, sweetly but with a subtle fever to it.

"A while... looks like my songs are soporific after all", he jokes, though it's short lived, the cheerfulness in his voice, he seems rather rapt right now, he keeps looking down at your lips over and over, "not at all. I'm just a teensy bit tired and the atmosphere here is really cozy and relaxed", you object gently, "that's understandable, you were up on your feet all day, making me dinner, checking in on me...",he trails off, his thumb brushing the blush on your cheek, "I didn't even make you dessert! Crap! Do you want anything right now? I can wip up some pancakes real quick!".

Strong whiplash hits the back of your neck as you try to sit up straight and get Han to move off of you in just one motion and, predictably so, you whimper in pain. Much to your boyfriend amusement who helps you sit up but also laughs his ass off at your impulsiveness. Hearing him laugh like that though, so gleefully so freely, that's just worth the pins and needles in your muscles.

"You don't need to make me anything", he says in a low voice, much somber now as he crawls over and kisses you once again, his soft lips crashing so perfectly against yours, "I've got dessert right here", he whispers, his hands now resting on top of your thighs as he slowly crouches down, balancing on the heels of his feet.

A little tumble. That was your heart.

Han squints a little, big expressive eyes turning into two slits, that sort of lazy, alluring look to them as he spreads your legs apart, enough for his head to fit right in between. The crackling of fire igniting in your belly, you watch as his fingers inch closer and closer to the waistband of your pants, pointer fingers hooking around the fabric, giving it a gentle tug, "may I?".

All you can do is nod, melting little by little as he locks eyes with you and removes your pants, the sight before him enough to make his Adam's apple bob up and down. He stars slowly, lazily even, only placing the softest kisses to the inner side of your thighs, making his way up to the seams of your underwear, leaving behind a trace of goosebumps on your skin.

Oh it's so hot. Suddenly you feel so hot. Shivering but hot. Slender fingers trace patterns over the cotton in between your thighs, circle motions, light tapping, you flutter your eyes shut as soon as Han kisses the very same spot his fingers just padded over. And then warmth, a wet warmth right over you in a stripe.

Nimble fingertips just brushing your navel, your hip bones, your thighs again, until your underwear are just a roll of fabric discarded on the floor. You have barely anytime to feel the air hitting your exposed flesh for Han just dips his mouth on you. A throaty sound rumbling from his lips, he buries his face in between your legs.

And he's good, like REALLY good. He knows he is. The man just knows how to use his mouth and his tongue,no matter where he's using them. You hiss underneath your breath, your hands instinctively running through his hair, how much you love how longer and curlier it is, tickling your bare skin, giving you the perfect excuse to tug at it.

A kiss, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks and sucks, and your legs shake so much already he has to hold your thighs down, "oh baby, my soft baby, so shaky for me already?", he teases, a gentle but firm grip on your body as he tries to keep you still. His eyes fixate on your face, observing intently for any reaction depicted on your expression, his gaze so intense you feel it even with your eyes closed.

His tongue swivels around your most inner part, sloppily but with some heft to it, small licks as he taps on your mound, only increasing the blood flow there, you can almost feel yourself pulsating, even more so when you open your eyes, squinting a little, and meet his dark orbs still fixated on you, you can only see his eyes and the bridge of his nose, for the lower half of his face is just buried in you and god, it's so hot, just the sight of him like hat while he works on you, it's so hot.

Seconds turn into minutes and before you know it, in your heightened state of bliss, you feel your blood rushing faster down to your lower belly and your legs, your face contorting, sweating, as you feel progressively more hot and bothered and on the verge of imploding. Hands clamping down his hair, your start to breathe erratically, the pressure on your chest sinking down and down until your heart feels like it's going to collapse.

It's the tense, pre climax silence and the slight spams in your legs that do it for him, that and knowing you like the back of his hand, that and his welcomed obsession with staring at you, studying every single little detail that gives you away. Han keeps his pace, knowing that you're just seconds away from coming,he notices your abdomen contracting and relaxing alternatively, feels your ragged breath coming out in puffs in his hair.

One look. One last lingering look to see you biting down your bottom lip,hard, you exhale loudly and start to shake, rocking your hips until you're all up in his face. A fraction of a second later and he has you come all undone in his mouth. The shiver the tremble the wave of warmth and tingles from your belly to your core.

He wastes no chance, continuing to roll his tongue on your clit, kissing and slurping everything he can, helping you ride your high until you can't no more. Arousal glistening on his lips and his cheeks and his chin, he finally detaches his mouth from you, the little silver of his tongue on the corner of his lips as he laps up any residue before wiping his face with the back of his forearm.

Drunk-dazed, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, a small smile on your reddened lips, from how much you've been biting down on them, it just perfectly matches the blush on your cheeks, the splotches of heat on your chest and your tummy, like roses blooms all over.

"Oh, you're blushing, how cute", Han chuckles, cupping your cheek tenderly, gesture which you can only smile abashedly more at, "have i rendered you completely speechless? talk to me, say anything", he teases playfully, for he knows it always takes you a little while to compose yourself when he eats you out like that, even if he acts as if it's nothing.

"You're good, Jisung. You're good at anything and everything you do, an ace, a true ace", you mumble, avoiding his gaze, and he giggles adorably, leaning in to kiss your tummy, "am I a better lover or a better songwriter?", "OH THAT'S SO UNFAIR YOU KNOW I CAN'T POSSIBLY PICK", you exclaim, suddenly much more spirited and alert.

Han bursts into deep throaty laughs and doubles down on you, his forehead resting on your abdomen, his arms cradling your lower body, "alright alright, let's go to bed", he suggests, helping you put your underwear back on, "or I could go for seconds, while you listen to my songs again and decide which one you like better", he adds as if in an afterthought, smirking a little.

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grannyandgrandpascreations · 25 days ago

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God, Grant Me The Serenity Distressed Bleach Vintage Flannel Shirt

This God, Grant Me the Serenity distressed bleached vintage flannel shirt exudes effortless cool and laid-back style. Made from soft, worn-in cotton, it features a unique bleached pattern that adds character and charm. The classic plaid design combines earthy tones with hints of brighter hues, creating a perfect blend of vintage appeal and contemporary edge. This distressed finish adds a touch of character, making each piece one-of-a-kind. With its classic plaid pattern and relaxed fit, this flannel is perfect for layering or wearing on its own.

No two shirts will ever be exactly alike so please aware and embrace the differences. All shirts are carefully curated, hand-dyed, and re-purposed so that each shirt is going to be different from the next in terms of color and plaid print.

SIZING: These shirts vary, many are unisex and come in men's sizing. They can be worn by both men & women. Ordering your normal t-shirt size is recommended for a regular fit. Going 1 size up works well for a baggy/oversized fit.

FABRIC: All these shirts are made of cotton or a cotton/poly blend. Measurements and thickness vary slightly by brand.

COLORS: Each flannel is unique, and no two shirts are going to look exactly alike. Colors are sent at random. Because the colors often change throughout the bleaching process, I cannot take specific color requests for these shirts.

Care instructions: Turn item inside out, machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Air dry is recommended.

Due to different picture lighting settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

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Welcome to Granny’s Store! We’ve got a fantastic selection of distressed flannels, cozy t-shirts, trendy tumblers, and so much more. Whether you’re looking for a laid-back outfit or a fun accessory, you’ll find something special here. Don’t forget to check out our seasonal items and unique finds that capture that charming, vintage vibe! Remember, Granny and Grandpa's Custom Creations is that "hidden" gem with unique, great quality, fun, gorgeous, innovative, and inexpensive gifts for your Loved Ones or yourself for your next shopping trip!

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whiskeyghoul · 2 months ago

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With a stranger's kiss || [The worst!Logan x Reader]

A/N: Okay so this needed to be written. I am obsessed with the new song released by one of my favorite bands. I heard it and this idea for a the worst!logan fanfic just filled my head. So please enjoy the hurt and a little comfort. My first time writing Logan too so I am quite excited, though it might mean it is a little ooc.

Recommended listening: Hotel flamingo - Kelsy Karter and the heroines, Tangerine - led zeppelin

WC: 3,4K

Tags: angst, fluff, hurt comfort, logan, soft logan, the worst!logan, alternate timeline angst, strangers to lovers, wolverine x reader, maybe a bit ooc.

Warnings: mentions of death

Your pov.

You were sitting at the bar on a Saturday night. Music was loud, people were chattering carefree. It smelled like beer, fruity mixed drinks and mingled perfumes. There was a highball glass in front of you, condensation on the outside dripped down. The wet stain on the napkin grew ever bigger as you stirred the drink with the straw. You leaned your head on your hand, absentmindedly staring into space. There to heal a broken heart that had left you feeling empty the past few months. Needing a distraction and willing to give it a try tonight.

You had known before going into a relationship with Logan that it would end in tragedy. He was much older, rougher, beaten down by the world around him. The first weeks of knowing him he was angry. Angry at the hand life had dealt him. It was attractive in a way, you wanted to see why this man was so bitter. See if he was able to warm up. He managed to open up to you eventually, your constant prodding and incessant need to be close to him. It weakened his defenses. It turns out he was kind too, flirty, funny at times. You remember the late nights together with him, listening to his heartbeat as you laid together. Silent, needing nothing more than each others company. His hand trailing absentminded patterns on your skin. How he’d kiss your temple, murmuring sweet nicknames and affectionate compliments. Which you gladly returned. Running your hands through his hair, kissing his jaw as you whispered into the intimacy of the night. He was everything to you. And then you lost him.

Wade had tracked you down afterwards, wanting more information on your late lover, to track him down as he said. Which at first had caused you much distress. Angry at Wade for even bringing up the idea. Logan wouldn’t do that to you. Not ever. You remember how the emotions ran its course, grief running its course again. How hot tears rolled down your cheeks as your throat closed. That was a few days ago. You had calmed down again but needed a change of scene. Your apartment was filled with memories of the past. The bar was close to Wade’s place, it was one of the few that played the classic rock songs you loved so much. You had asked Wade to come out but he never had responded. Probably on some weird mission that deserved all his attention. Though you hoped he would show up, so you wouldn’t be alone. Drinking your sadness away, pretending to be fine when in reality you don’t know if you ever could be fine again.

The ice in your tequila sunrise clinked as you raised the cup of the bar. Taking a few big sips, downing the drink in one go with a sigh. Placing the glass back down with a thunk. “You always put away drinks like that, sweetheart?” A familiar, deep voice spoke up maybe 2 seats away from you. You looked over, a familiar face, younger than you last saw him. His hair wasn’t enveloped by the salt and pepper yet, with those little peeks you had only seen in old pictures of Logan. Kitty ears, as you had called them. His arms flexed under a flannel shirt. A cigar, unlit, held between the fingers of his left hand as his right held a glass of whiskey. Logan. Maybe it was the alcohol, or you were dead and this was heaven. Maybe it was a cruel joke played by the universe. But it was him.

No. no. This wasn’t real. This was a delusion. A grief filled hallucination conjured up by the worst parts of your brain. A liquor filled haze that would have you end up in the bathrooms in 10 minutes if it went south. Though this was just your second drink, and your vision was crystal clear. “Only when I have a reason to drink.” your voice was a little choked as you answered him. Feeling that if you kept staring, with no answer, he would think you were crazy. Locking eyes with the man across from you there was a sadness, a loneliness in his eyes. This wasn’t Logan, but he looked a hell of a lot like him, sounded like him. “What’s the reason today?” His voice didn’t carry too much over the music but you were so tuned in to him you could hear him perfectly. As if your body moved on its own you stood up from the high seat. Taking two steps closer. You watched his eyes flicker over you, a moment of something else in those hazel eyes, his lips part as if he was about to say something else before closing them. Swallowing away whatever he had almost confessed. “Life has never been this hard.” You answered as you sat on the chair next to him. Offering a wry smile to him which he returned with a somber nod.

“Even for the prettiest girl in the bar?” His words were sincere, not the empty compliments that you had heard from men before. His eyes held yours with intent, like he was searching for something. Maybe you were looking for something in him too. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, before using that movement to take the whiskey glass from his grip. “Even for her.” you answered as you took a sip, letting the familiar taste shock your senses for a moment. The burn, the warmth, the smell, it was all a memory of him. “What about you, does the most handsome man always drink by himself on a Friday night?” You asked as you placed his drink back for him, your lipstick stain adorning the rim. Though your fingers loosely stayed around the cold glass. “Not just Fridays.” His answer was short as he picked up the glass. Fingers barely brushing yours as he took it. Calloused, large, but gentle. He wasn’t a hallucination, he was physical, real. Following his movement you watched as he put the lipstick stain to his lips, sipping from the same spot. An indirect kiss.

There was a moment of electricity, a connection between the both of you. Two strangers who were so familiar to one another. “Well then, please let me hold you company.” You waved to the waiter, motioning for another round of drinks for the both of you.“I won’t mind that.” He said placing his now empty glass on the bar. It was only a few moments before the new drinks were placed in front of you on the bar. Taking the cold glass in your hands you raised it, “To two people drinking alone, together.” you said with a soft smile. He returned your smile, just the barest uptick of the corner of his lips. “I will cheers to that, sweetheart.” The way he said it, sweetheart, it made your heart ache. The roll of the r, the lilt in his voice as it dipped slightly lower. You heard it so many times, yet you never got your fill. Quickly, you took a sip of your drink, hoping the cold would bury the feelings of sadness under them. Like a layer of snow covering the ground, preventing sprouts until the time was right.

“Someone used to call me that a lot. Sweetheart.” You confessed to him, a morose chuckle leaving your lips. Not knowing why the words bubbled up. They left your lips before you could think them through. “That why you drinking alone?” He asked, as he leaned a little closer. A waft of his cologne crashing into your senses. Like a wave enveloping you, leaving you under the surface, weightless. “One of the reasons.” Another sip of your drinks as you held eye contact. His stare was heavy, he wetted his lips with his tongue before he spoke. “We must be in a similar boat then.” He shifted in his seat, ever so slightly closer. “I moved away because I lost a lot of people. You remind me of the girl I used to call that all the time.” That confession caused another ache to shoot through your heart. He was a little broken, like you, losing the person you loved most. His eyes drifted away from you and to the cigar in his hand. “I’m heading out for a smoke. Join me.” he nodded his head towards the door. Shifting and standing up, you took your drink in your left hand ready to follow him out through the crowd of bodies that separated the bar seats from the door. You felt his hand take yours, chilled finger tips from his drink, looking up to see the cigar already between his teeth, the whiskey glass in his right hand. You thought he winked before quickly turning. An image that would be forever burned on to your brain. He was pulling you through the mass of people, and out into the night.

The outside air was cold compared to the inside of the bar. The smell of weather turning in the air, like at any moment the clouds could break and rain could soak you through. The moon peeked through the clouds every so often. The music is still audible though ever so slightly muffled. Your drinks were placed on the table near the bouncer. There were other people outside, leaning against the brick wall as they talked and smoked. The neon flamingo sign lit the surroundings in a pink hue. Standing with your back against the brick you watched him pull out a lighter, taking a flame to the end of the cigar and inhaling the smoke. Breathing out you watched as the tendrils faded into the night sky. Eyes lingering on his lips, wondering if they would feel the same. Your body was yearning for the touch of Logan, months without it, grieving the loss of him, it had been torturous. And now, a vision of the past that stood in front of you, close enough to reach out. He took another drag of the cigar, holding in the smoke for a moment before breathing out again. Tapping off the ash he held it out to you, quirking a brow up inquisitively. “I don’t smoke.” You said, a shrug of your shoulders as you wrapped your arms around your torso, it was colder out than you had thought. “What do you have to lose?” He urged with a smirk, looking down at you. The pink light casting shadows on the side of his face. Making him look more like the man you lost. You reached out, gently taking the cigar from his hand, fingers lingering a second too long.

You brought the cigar to your lips, breathing in, holding it a second and letting the smoke settle in your system. Your eyes fluttering close. It was just like when you used to kiss Logan, smoke and tinge of sweetness. Though he used to take great care not to kiss you immediately after taking a smoke. Because you would scrunch your nose, feign disgust, because you had been disgusted the first few times. Before getting used to the taste that was uniquely him. Opening your eyes again after a few seconds you blinked away the tear threatening to form. You exhaled, watching those wispy tendrils leave your own mouth. Your gaze locked on him, his expression was weirdly soft as he took you in, like he was burning your image into his memory. Or perhaps he was transported back to the past, to the girl he used to call sweetheart. Holding out the cigar for him you smiled softly, “Yeah, not for me.” you tilted your head, smile fading as you pressed your lips together. Holding back from letting sadness take over. He took the cigar back, eyes glancing at the lipstick stain left behind on the butt, “S’alright. It’s not for everyone.” his voice was barely above a whisper, but you heard the slight quiver in the tone. Emotion taking over. Watching as his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed away the feelings.

He took another drag, lips pressed where you had left a mark for the second time that night. When his lips left the cigar you saw the tinge of red on his lips. Like how it would have looked when you had kissed Logan, it used to be his favorite shade on you. Instinctively you reached out, overwhelmed, “Sorry, you have something here.” your thumb connected with his bottom lip. As the rest of your fingers splayed out over his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard against your skin. You wiped at the lipstick stain until he caught your wrist in his free hand. It was surprising, yet his hold was so gentle. His eyes bore into yours, “That’s okay, sweetheart, I don’t mind.” He said before moving your hand, pressing a kiss just below your thumb. It was tender, a fleeting moment, a living reflection of the past. His lips left just as soon as they had connected with your skin. Still, his grip on your wrist didn’t loosen, he lowered your arms together, to hang between you. As if a bridge connecting two islands. “Was that too far?” He asked. You shook your head no, though it was barely a shake. If he hadn’t been staring you down he might not have even noticed it. “Not at all.” You said softly. He nodded his head, as if to say ‘good.’ before taking the last drag of his cigar. Letting the small stub fall to the ground. Stepping on it to put it out.

The music changed inside. An all too familiar melody started playing. Tangerine. You let out a choked laugh, the irony not lost on you. “You like this song?” he asked. You slipped your hand down, where he had been holding your wrist you were now holding his hand. “I think it’s pretty. Sad, melancholic but so filled with love.” Your fingers found their way between his. Running your thumb along the skin of the back of his hand almost absentmindedly. It was something you used to do quite often, not just a comforting gesture for Logan. It was almost self soothing, to feel his warmth at your fingertips. He hummed in agreement with your sentiment. Something about the scene in front of you made you think back to when you last heard this song, when you had danced together with Logan in the living room. Old songs playing in the background. You had leaned your head against his chest as he had held you close. His heartbeat mingled with the soft acoustics, the rumble of his voice whispering along to the song. Now that his mirror image stood there in the pink neon light, you couldn’t help yourself.

Pushing yourself off of the wall you stood closer, tugging on his hand to force him closer. He let you, a little too easy, so you looked up and stood nose to nose. “Dance with me?” You asked, peering in those hazel eyes, seeing the shift in his demeanor. How his eyes softened as he breathed in. “Anything for you.” His response was quick, easy, like he had said it a thousand times before. His left hand found its perch on your hip so effortlessly, his thumb stroking over the velvety fabric of your dress so carefully, like he had done so a million times before. You let go of his right hand, it quickly went down to your hip. You were letting both of your hands slip up his chest to his shoulders. Feeling the heartbeat under his skin for a moment before latching your fingers together behind his neck. Feeling the brush of the hair at his nape. He started to sway softly, as you stood almost chest to chest, the warmth radiating between the two of you. A coil formed around your heart, tightening with every sway, every small step you made together. Everything around you was falling away. All you could hear was the music. The only thing you saw was him. The only thing you could feel was his touch as the second verse set in.

Thinking how it used to be.

Does she still remember times like these?

To think of us again.

And I do.

Breathing in sync, he leaned slightly closer, his nose nudging yours. There was an edge of hesitation. His eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t seem to find. A brief second, before he sighed and created a little more distance, looking almost defeated. You wanted him to kiss you, even if it was just to see if his lips felt the same. If he kissed with the same hunger. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, “I can’t. ‘Cause you aren’t her. Even though you are just like her.” You closed your eyes, taking in the words you knew were true for the both of you, leaning into his touch. “I know, Lo…” the name slipped from your lips like it was nothing. Because every neuron, every fiber in your body was saying it was him.

In that moment he stood just a little straighter, his touch on your forehead left. You opened your eyes. His were intense, on you, filled with devotion. Your name sounded from his mouth. It lay heavy between you.

Tangerine, tangerine.

Living reflection from a dream.

I was her love, she was my queen.

But now a thousand years in-between.

The hands behind his neck unclasped each other, your fingers raking through the soft, short locks at his nape. Realization dawned. A tear escaping your eye, just the singular one as a sad smile was on his lips. “You’re not really him, are you?” you didn’t want to ask, but you had to know for sure. Wanting to live in this moment where you were back together, just a glimpse of what was. “I am. Just not yours, just like you aren’t mine.” Logan’s right hand cradled your face, thumb wiping away the tear that had rolled down your cheek. A similar soothing motion you had done just moments prior. Leaning into his touch your eyes stayed on him, catching every expression, every little look and emotion. “I wasn’t gonna look for you, didn’t think I could handle seeing you.” He said softly, “But when I saw you, with pain in your eyes, I couldn’t help myself. I never could help myself around you.” He continued, stroking your cheek continuously. Soft motions, keeping you grounded, his grip on your hip tightening ever so slightly. A barely there twitch you wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the fact you were completely engulfed by him. Like he was afraid you weren’t real. Like you could slip away at any moment. Just like you couldn’t fathom him being there.

The pain you felt when you saw him for the first time soothed with the knowledge it was Logan. Not yours, like he had said. But a version of him that had loved a version of you. You had both lost each other, and for some inexplicable reason, had found each other again. A little more broken. A little more weathered. But a little lighter too.

“In this moment, you could kill me if you wanted to. I would be happy, just to have been able to see you again. Something I never thought would happen.” You spoke up, “In fact, for a moment, I thought this was heaven.” Logan let out a soft chuckle at that. The idea of a bar, filled with drunk people chattering, being heaven was a strange thought. But it felt like heaven. And so did being outside in the cold of the night. “I thought I saw an angel, too.” There was a slight humor in his tone. His smile is a little lighter, a little sweeter. It was infectious. Biting the inside of your lip, holding back the smile. “Would I be a terrible person if I asked to kiss you anyways?” You asked, knowing he had pulled away before. His gaze softened as he searched your eyes again. “You could kill me if you wanted to.” he echoed your words, your sentiment.

The moment felt weightless as he leaned in. Hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head. Tilting your head gently. Your eyes shut automatically. The soft press of his lips against yours followed. It was so gentle. Sweet and smokey. Filled with regret, pain, loss, passion, love. Your hands slid to the front of his shirt. Holding on to the soft fabric. His left hand squeezed your hip just a little more. You pulled away for a moment, a smile spreading as you watched him. “Nice to meet you, Logan.” He laughed, short, but genuine. A melodic sound that made your heart skip. “Nice to meet you too, sweetheart.” He said before his lips found yours again. Letting yourself melt into the feeling. There was a lot that needed to be figured out. Or explained. But you could do that later. When you would both be getting to know each other again like it was the first time.

A fresh start with a familiar stranger’s kiss.

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lewmagoo · 1 year ago

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Waking up to find your cowboy not in bed with you. His boots aren't by the door but you can see footprints in the freshly fallen snow outside. You follow them to the barn to see Rhett, asleep on a haybale wearing just his jacket. His flannel is now a nest for the barn cat's new kittens with another fleecy blanket added in for extra warmth.

rhett’s a tender soul. always has been. despite the fact that his father tried to quash that part of him, in an effort to “toughen him up”. rhett always kept that tender part of himself when it came to animals. he’s always had a special connection with them. with his mare, june, despite her stubborn tendencies. with the mysterious crow (affectionately named john) that follows him around every time he’s outside. with the cranky barn cat that tolerates only him. he’s the cowboy snow white, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him. there are always animals in his vicinity. he’s always been good about helping animals when they’re in distress. one time, he stayed up all night with june when she developed a sickness that required round the clock care. he nursed john the crow back to health when he injured his wing. he’s been known to raise orphaned baby squirrels and rabbits.

and then there’s the time that misty the cranky barn cat becomes pregnant. rhett watches over her carefully. it’s really a sight to behold. you’ve always loved watching him interact with animals. when you’re working in the stable or going on trail rides you’ll hear the way he talks to june, a low comforting rumble, communicating with her as if she understands every word he’s saying. you suspect she does. and of course there’s the way he’s so loving toward misty. she’ll always linger around his feet when he’s in the stable, and sometimes she’ll even climb up to sit on his shoulder. that happens less and less the more heavily pregnant she becomes. and then there comes the time when she’s going to give birth.

the closer the time gets, the more rhett checks on her throughout the day. and then, one morning, he slips out of bed early, leaving a lingering kiss to your forehead as you sleep peacefully, before he shoves his boots and jacket on and trudges out through the freshly fallen snow. that’s where he finds misty huddled in a corner of the stable, in the beginning stages of labor. he knows he can’t move her into the house, it would put her into distress. so he sets up camp in the barn. all he has is his flannel, so he shrugs out of it and allows misty to lay upon it. he’s a loving and gentle coach as she births her tiny little kittens, and once they come safely into the world, he tucks an extra blanket that he found in the tack room around the litter to keep them all warm as their mama gets settled around them. not wanting to leave her alone, he leans back against some stacked hay bales, but inevitably ends up falling asleep.

that’s where you find him an hour later. after waking up to an empty bed you head out to the stable to find him fast asleep, and there is misty the barn cat on the floor beside his feet, curled up with her new babies. it’s a precious sight, especially when you see he’s given up his shirt in order for misty to have a soft place to lay. you sit beside him on a hay bale and gently coax him awake. “rise and shine, cowboy,” you murmur. he stirs awake, and as he catches you looking at him, he smiles sleepily. “had t’ come help misty give birth,” he mumbles. “i see that,” you reply. “you make a great cat midwife.” he smirks at that. “thank y’. been practicin’ my whole life for this moment.” which is partly true. he’s been involved in plenty of animal births. “well, now that you’ve helped bring kittens into the world, how about some pancakes and coffee for breakfast? i’m sure midwifing made you work up an appetite.”

the promise of pancakes and coffee gets him up and out of his bed of hay, food motivated as he is. “don’t mind if i do,” he says as he pecks your lips. he still checks on misty throughout the day, and if the temperatures drop too low during the night, he will bring her and her babies inside to keep them warm. soon, your house is full of kittens. rhett is attached to each of them, even though he knows you can’t keep them all. before you find homes for each one, this is what he constantly looks like:

he gives one to amy. he keeps the rest, insisting that this is their home and he doesn’t want to uproot them from it. that’s how you end up having four barn cats. at least you can say you won’t ever have a mouse problem with them around 🤷‍♀️

(thank you @laracrofted for bringing up rhett covered in kittens because it’s awakened something i think)

#asks #rhett musings

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freesia-writes · 5 months ago

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Ch 10: Storm on the Shore Pt. 2

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 2k

WELL THIS IS THE MOST ACCURATE BACKGROUND NOISE YOU COULD HAVE, LOL: 24Hr | Seaside Storm in a Cave / Ocean Waves, Distant Thunder,Fire and Rain Sounds for Sleeping (youtube.com)

And LOOK AT THIS FANART BY @perfectlywingedcrusade!!

As the fire grew into a satisfying source of warmth near the opening of the cave, just far enough inside to let the smoke out but still sheltered from the wind and rain, Hunter and Lyra huddled around it, shadows dancing across their faces as the contented crackling faded into the sound of the storm outside. He had removed his jacket, spreading it out nearby to dry as much as possible, and with quite a bit of protest from her, had also ventured quickly into the rain to fetch her own jacket, which he had to wring out at the mouth of the cave before bringing it in to lay it next to his. His thick flannel shirt stretched across his back as he hunched, rubbing his hands absently near the dancing flames.

“I’m sorry we’re stuck here,” Lyra said, eyes darting to his for a split second before returning to the fire.

“Eh,” Hunter shrugged, “It could be worse.”

“The office ladies are going to be heartbroken that you’re not in your shop for their ‘morning sausage run’ before school starts…”

Fixing her with a mockingly stern look that led them both to chuckle quietly, Hunter noticed her heartbeat speeding up again, and subtly watched her body language to see if she were in pain from the ruthless pinching her leg had received from the spiteful crablike creature she’d thought was just a shell. He was unable to discern other signs of distress, leaving him mildly confused as to the random chemical changes he could just barely pick up during many of their times together.

“I’ll just tell them it was your fault,” he added, smiling as she quickly looked back up at him in horror. Her long brown hair still hung fairly damp, save for a little crown of frizz that danced on the very top of her head, and her dark eyes sent an unexpected jolt of electricity through his body with their simultaneous vulnerability and intensity. It threw him off for a moment, causing his grin to drop into momentary seriousness.

“What?” Lyra asked, anxious at his sudden change in composure. She glanced around the cave and toward the opening as though searching for a threat, giving Hunter time to recover.

“Nothing,” he said, following her gaze. “I… uh… Did you feel that breeze?”

“...No?”

“It felt like it came from the back,” he continued, legitimately (and gratefully) distracted by the slight sense of cool air on the side of his cheek that faced away from the entrance.

“Are you hoping to blow dry your luxurious hair?” she attempted, cringing inwardly as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

“Luxurious, eh?” Hunter echoed, tilting his head back toward her with a look that concealed the slight sense of flattery he didn’t want to admit he felt.

“Oh, I felt a little wind!” she exclaimed instead, and he laughed out loud at her thinly-veiled effort to change the subject. He hadn’t felt anything that time, but he let it slide. They’d had a few moments over the last number of weeks of innocent questions that seemed to touch a nerve or pry too far, resulting in withdrawal and awkward silence, so in response, they had both settled into a comfortable understanding that information was to be taken as it was offered instead of pursued through inquiry. He rose to his feet in one lithe movement, stretching out the stiffness that had formed in his time crouched by the fire.

“I’m gonna check it out.”

“Why?” Lyra asked, so bluntly that he was momentarily taken aback. But her tone was one of apprehension, not challenge.

“Might be a way out of here.”

“But what if there’s… stuff back there?”

“That’s the point,” he said, smiling faintly.

“Maybe the crab had friends,” she added, a breezy smile failing to conceal her trepidation. “Bigger ones.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time…”

He could sense her anxiety as she followed suit, rubbing her hands over the fire one last time before getting up and hobbling to his side. She was torn in a way that surprised her – the logical choice would be to continue her enjoyment of the toasty little space he’d created, but she also felt nervous about him going alone. Not that she would be of any help in a crisis situation… obviously. Yet she was inexplicably compelled to join him.

“Lead the way.”

“I can scout it out and come back to get you if there’s an exit,” he offered, unsure about her participation.

“That’ll take twice as long,” she pointed out, grabbing their clothing from the ground and shaking them out. “Besides, I think I can hear my fireplace calling to me…” Her jacket was still fairly damp, but Hunter had wrung out most of the water and its time by the fire had made it a good amount lighter. She tied it around her waist, passed his own to him, and nodded decisively. The corners of his lips lifted slightly, and he pulled his coat on snugly.

He offered an arm to her, noting just how taken aback she appeared at the gesture. After a moment of internal struggle, she gingerly took it, laying her fingers across his forearm but carefully keeping a distance between their bodies. Again, his heart warmed slightly at seemingly nothing in particular, and they headed toward the back of the cave.

It was a cavernous opening initially, with the dancing glow from the dying fire just barely illuminating the rocks that jutted at them from ground and ceiling alike. They walked wordlessly, arm in arm, with only the sounds of their steps, droplets falling from above, and the waves and rain outside. As the cave twisted and turned its way into the cliff, Hunter could feel Lyra growing more tense, her heart rate increasing and a light sweat breaking out across her body. Her eyes darted to and fro, and her hand tightened around his bicep as she slipped on a step.

“You okay?” he said, the softness of his voice contrasted by a slight husk from not speaking for a while; it quickly captured her attention from all of the “threats” she’d been vigilant to scan for, and she nodded silently. “Are you nervous?” he finally asked, watching her expressions flicker from conviction to sheepishness.

“Yes,” she whispered, lowering her head.

“It’s alright. I promise. We’ll be fine,” Hunter said gently, his chest swelling with some feeling as he could see a grateful smile barely peeking out beneath the curtain of hair that concealed her face. He reached into his bag and pulled out the small light again, clicking it on and shocking their eyes with a bright little beam that illuminated the next few steps. As they began moving again, he noticed she had shuffled a hair closer to him.

“You’ve spent a lot of time in caves?” she asked, still tense with apprehension.

“Some,” he answered, still not having shared many specifics about his past in the GAR. He’d focused mostly on their independent chapter of life, painting the picture of him and his family wandering the galaxy and taking various jobs to support themselves, which resulted in his wide skill set. “I’ve been in a lot of dangerous situations.” It could have come across as prideful or boasting, but he’d said it so factually and humbly that it seemed to drive the point home, and he noticed Lyra’s shoulders relax the tiniest bit.

“Sounds stressful.”

“Yeah… You get used to it.”

“I don’t know that I could,” she chuckled, looking up as he came to a sudden halt.

“Hm,” he said, casting the light all around in front of them. It appeared that they’d reached a dead end as all sides of the cave had closed in on them, and yet he could swear he sensed a large hollowness behind it. He felt around the edges, wondering if it was a large rock that had broken off from the rest to block the pathway, but despite his strategically-located pushes and shoves, there was no movement to be had.

“Time to go back!” Lyra announced, proactively taking his arm again. They could barely hear the storm anymore; they may have been too deep in the cave or it could have stopped. Hunter furrowed his brow, taking a few last one-handed pokes around the wall in front of them, then nodded.

“I guess that’s our only option.”

Upon their return to the mouth of the cave, they were pleased to find that the storm had indeed blown over, and the dark skies had lightened a bit to a morose gray canvas full of swirling clouds. They ventured out onto the beach, grateful for the slowness of the tide’s changes that meant it was still quite low, which allowed them to skirt around one of the rocky walls that formed the sandy inlet onto the next beach past it. This one had a much more gradual slope up to the cliffs above, and the pain in Lyra’s leg had receded enough for her to walk unassisted.

It felt like a longer walk than usual back to their homes; Hunter couldn’t quite tell why. Nothing significant had happened and yet he felt a deepening bond between them, whether it was a sense of protectiveness, increased vulnerability, or something else. Lyra’s house was at a lower elevation, perched on a flat chunk of land near the edge of The Forest with a decent view of the seas below, while Hunter’s was farther up and deeper into the woods. He didn’t realize they’d taken the path toward her home, lost in conversation as they’d been, until she drew to a halt at the gate of a rickety fence made of random pieces of driftwood and tree branches. The property beyond the fence was lush, with plants and trees of every shape and size, and Hunter could see a white cottage tucked into it, the sea lying below the cliffs a ways past it.

“This is me,” she said, nodding toward the cozy home. “I’m gonna comm the school to let them know I’m alive… and I don’t think I’m going in today.” She chuckled, and he could almost hear the plotting in her head of a decadent day of relaxation by the fire and, if he knew anything from their many chats over the last few weeks, probably some baking of delicious savory treats.

“I might not open the shop today either,” Hunter said. “Perks of being self-employed.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, lifting her eyes to his for a moment. Brown met brown with softness and depth, and he felt that queasiness in his stomach that had made the occasional appearance lately. “Um… Thank you again… For everything. And I’m sorry.”

“It was nothing,” Hunter said. “In fact, I think I owe you one for getting me to take a day off of work.”

“So I’m a clumsy burden and a bad influence? Great,” she deadpanned.

“Neither,” he reassured.

Lyra hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and untied her jacket from her waist to instead fold it over her arm and clutch it tightly. There was a pregnant pause in the air, as though there were some kind of decision to be made. But neither words nor invitations were forthcoming.

“I… uh… I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” she said quietly, dipping her head and opening the creaky gate, slowly and almost hesitantly admitting herself. She left it open, turning back to give him a small wave as he said his own goodbyes, then continued on the pebbled path toward the cottage.

Hunter remained at the entrance for a minute, watching her disappear inside the small white house, then heaved a great sigh. The air was filled with scent – the flowers, fruits, and vegetables in her garden; the contented clucks of the local ground-dwelling birds; the salty breeze of the sea; and the musky scents of the cows and horse-like creatures that roamed where they pleased. He felt as though he could stand there forever, comforted by the quiet nature symphony and the tranquil surroundings. But, after a few moments, he took one last deep breath and continued on his way.

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fredwkong · 1 year ago

Text

Gateway Drug: Luxury

You frowned at the little box of cigars your boyfriend had given you. “Try them, I promise they’ll change your whole perspective!” he’d said, nearly forcing them into your grasp.

He had decided to take you on a date to the opera for your six month anniversary. Sure, it was perfect for him, he came from a wealthy family and had the right clothes and the right etiquette for all of that. It had been a nightmare for you, showing up in your nicest business casual to sit through four hours of torturous high-pitched screaming. Fuck Wagner.

And then he had had the gall to give you cigars as your gift. You didn’t even smoke! But he had absolutely insisted, and now here you were. With a box of cigars on your dining room table, imported from some Latin American country where the workers were probably paid slave wages.

Well, at least they were free. You could just… keep them for a few days and then surreptitiously throw them away.

The next morning, there was a strange smell hanging in the air when you came out of your room. It was sharp and enticing, and just a little bit bitter. You found yourself craving to taste it as you explored the house, trying to find where it was coming from. Finally, you found yourself looking at the package of cigars on your dining room table. That must be where the scent was coming from.

It couldn’t hurt to try one, right? Your boyfriend did give them to you as a gift. Even though he could be a bit of a snob, you loved him dearly and he usually had your best interests at heart.

You dug up a lighter from the kitchen drawers and looked up a Wikihow article for lighting a cigar. It took a few tries, but you eventually got one trimmed, releasing even more of that rich, sensual smell. Chubbing up a bit in your loose pyjama shorts, you lit the cigar and took a drag on it.

Instantly, you were in love. You would need to thank your boyfriend for putting you onto this. You breathed out a cloud of thick smoke, enjoying the sensation as it filled your nostrils. The smell permeated your skin, and a tan rushed over your face, which slowly reshaped into a rougher, more masculine look. You ran a hand over your bleached buzz cut as you took another drag off the cigar. Yeah, it cost a few hundred dollars a month to maintain, but it was worth it to have that hard-edged look you were going for.

The clouds of smoke you breathed out rushed down your body, enriching your natural smell with the tang of cigar smoke as your muscles bulked up a bit. Nothing too extreme, just enough to show that you paid a good personal trainer and nutritionist to take care of your body. Tattoos also swirled over your darkening skin, beginning just below your jaw—why would you mess with such a perfect face?—and continuing on every inch of your body.

You grinned to yourself as you finished the first half of the cigar. Your boyfriend knew you so well. Sure, you bought yourself these cigars all the time, but it was nice to get something for free once in a while. Trust fund babies like you and your boyfriend were supposed to live it up while making other people pay for it as much as possible.

The thick clouds of smoke you were breathing out nearly obscured your body, they became so thick around your torso and legs. They thickened and transformed your flannel shorts and threadbare shirt into distressed designer jeans and a tailored T-shirt, both so heavily impregnated with the stench of cigar smoke that no amount of washing would get rid of the smell. Not that you washed your clothes that much, enjoying the rich scent of smoke, semen, and BO that you could build up on your body.

You finished off the first cigar and looked around. You knew this was your apartment, but suddenly it looked so… dingy and worthless. Was this how your boyfriend had felt every time he stayed over? There wasn’t even a pool table. It definitely wasn’t up to your standard. You looked longingly at the second cigar, but your bladder needed emptying first.

As you pissed, you looked disparagingly around the little bathroom you’d loved for years. All the thrifted or homemade decor was so tacky, old, and worthless. You deserved all new custom made items. And who needed deodorant or cologne? Between your body and your cigars, you had all the cologne you would ever need. You couldn’t wait to replace this whole place. It would be a pleasure to trash all of it.

The thought had your big Latino cock chubbing up. You decided not to tuck it back into your jeans, and just let it hang out as you headed back to the kitchen. You knew your old self would have been mortified to be showing off his hard on like this with the curtains open, but why not give the neighbours a show? It wasn’t like they could even afford the chain on your belt.

You grabbed your gold-plated phone off the counter. Your previous texts to your boyfriend were a servile, limp-dicked good night exchange full of emoticons. God, you had been such a little bitch. You texted your boyfriend: “Tried your cigars. Come get bred.”

He replied an instant later: “Yes, sir ;)”

You gave your phone a feral grin. So he’d known what the cigars would do, then? Or maybe his memories were changing too. It didn’t matter, you’d thank him all the same. Your dick jumped at the thought.

Idly stroking your hard-on, you grabbed the second cigar. You trimmed it with a confident hand and held it in your mouth to light it. This time, you prowled your apartment, blowing smoke at furniture and fixtures you couldn’t wait to get rid of.

It seemed to work. The smoke cloud obscured your cheap TV surrounded by old game consoles, and when it dissipated there was a state of the art entertainment theatre with a pristine PlayStation in its place. Of course, all a guy like you played was FIFA and Need for Speed. Your threadbare lounging chair was replaced with a premium leather armchair, the smell of smoke and sweat billowing off of it.

The apartment seemed to become bigger, though your memories of whatever shitty little shoebox it had been got hazier as you roamed. You found yourself in the expansive master bedroom, and laid down on the silk sheets to finish your cigar. You kicked off your loafers and sniffed your sweaty unwashed socks. There was a crystal ashtray next to the bed, but you grinned as you tapped ashes onto the bedspread. Cleaning was what you paid the staff to do, after all.

You were just finishing your cigar and contemplating practicing some pool shots in the adjoining entertainment room when the doorman sent you a notification. Your boyfriend was standing in the foyer, looking nervously around at the sleek, masculine decor of your mansion. As you watched the video feed, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of cigars and unwashed Latino musk that you made sure permeated the whole building. What a little bitch, you thought. He’d made you like this, so he could at least show some appreciation.

You buzzed the doorman to let your boyfriend up to your rooms. You fondled your big dick and balls hanging out of your pants as you thought about what you would do to him. There was still one cigar left, after all, and you could do with a rich, cigar-smoking bitch boy to dominate.

#male transformation #smoking tf #latino tf #musk tf #race change #toxic tf #muscle tf #top tf #reality change #mental change #male tf #all fwkong

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philosophicalmisuse · 8 months ago

Text

Victor from From and Autistic Coding in media

Just finished season 1 and a couple eps into season 2, enjoying it lots so far! Only spoilers for season 1 I think, maybe mild for season 2

Just seen a couple of people discuss Victor and Autism and neurodivergence in general and wanted to add my two cents

I reckon he's autistic-coded (and I think the distinction between is autistic and is autistic coded is important) -

- trouble socialising (esp with other adults, but having an easier time with kids - socialising well with people below and above ur peer group is fairly common)

- restricted interests (the peaches being the one thing he liked to eat jumped out to me - thought it was so sweet how donna made sure that he had some and that she was rationing them for him specifically, both so others wouldn't have them and so that he could have them regularly for as long as possible and genuinely took seriously how important it was and attempted to hold back other supplies in case they ran out to provide an alternative but was aware it likely wouldn't work - she looked at why he liked the peaches and accommodated his needs not just in terms of well this will keep him happy but in a caring way for him as a person, such a little thing but damn made me like donna so much)

- the visual language of how he's presented - wearing his (casual flannel) shirt buttoned all the way up to the neck and pants cuffed, just like how he did as a kid, holding onto an object from his childhood, posture that is overly "correct", slightly shambley walk, 'evasive' body language that avoids eye contact etc - ! important to specify here that I'm not saying all autistic people dress or move like this, I for one hate things touching my neck so you wouldn't catch me dead in a button up all the way to my neck, but this visual language/costuming/physicality is super common for male autistic-coded characters as a visual shorthand to express restrive patterns of behaviour/outsider from social norms of dress, so it jumped out at me right away. Two other examples that spring to mind are young Sheldon and elementary Sherlock Holmes

- the language/tonality he uses - often repetitive to express the rules while not always explaining why (example being when jade takes his violin and ransacks his room, he doesn't explain why jade shouldn't go into his room or how it made him feel, he visually shows distress and repeats the rule that jade violated, even when jade explains his pov - victor responds in his face to the comment I thought you were dead, seemingly understanding that that's reasonable, but it's not relevant to the rule as he isn't dead so he repeats the rule) - he's often fairly monotone/expressionless as well - I don't know how to explain this but some of his inflections/patterns of speech are very familiar to me in terms of how I and other autistic people I've met talk. There's something about how and where the voice goes up and down in a sentence that I can't really explain

- disliking change (eg. peaches)

And I'm sure there's more but these are the main ones I remember

NOW!!! onto my broader points

I have seen some people online argue that:

he's not autistic he's just traumatised

This is rational and I get it! He's presumably been alone since a very young age so not 'socialised', he's had to learn the rules of this place and stick to them or die and so on. The behaviours of cPTSD and asd have a large amount of overlap.

However, my first point would be that a traumatised autistic person (which is most autistic people tbh) look/act different from traumatised non-autistic people. Most autistic people that you meet are traumatised, and there's a lot of traumatised people who aren't autistic. Having cPTSD and having a trigger to a specific sound, for example, is different from having SPD and getting tired/stressed/having a meltdown from most sounds being too loud and your nervous system being unable to distinguish between a relevant loud noise and an irrelevant loud noise and giving you all noises at the same level and stimulating your nervous system to react to them the same, for example. In cPTSD your nervous system is likely also inflating lots of noises, because lots of noises were relevant to your survival in a traumatic environment - but in SPD (something many ASD people have and some argue may be a major facet of the disorder that has, until recently, been unhelpfully diminished in diagnostic resources) this would happen whether or not you were traumatised.

The collection of traits in the DSM is descriptive of a way of processing the world around you - and when people argue that Victor is autistic, they're saying that he is behaving in a way that appears to be characteristic of a certain combination of traits. Additionally, he was old enough to experience some socialisation, and had enough resources to experiment with other ways of dressing - there presumably have been other people that have come to the village over the years, as well. What I see in the character is a very traumatised autistic adult using patterns of behaviour that are explicitly autistic in order to survive in a terrible situation, HOWEVER I would argue that it doesn't matter very much

Regardless of whether he is or is not autistic (he's a fictional character and we can never have enough info to really know unless the characters or creators of the show explicitly say it, ofc) what is relevant in my opinion is that he is CODED to be autistic.

The way the character is presented is similar to a lot of tropes in media about how autistic characters are presented. Whether you think that the character in and of himself is or is not autistic, I think it's fair to say that the way he is characterised is similar to a lot of other male autisic-coded characters in media

WHY IS THIS IMPORTANT?

It's important both in terms of how we analyse/interpret the specific media, and how this can impact social understanding of autism more broadly

First of all, it may tell us something about how Autism is portrayed in media. An autistic character in another piece of media who has not experienced the same levels of insane trauma in a horror setting is thought to behave similarly to a character who has experienced these things.

Secondly, it tells us about how the other characters in the world relate to Victor. Why do they instantly see him as being weird, when initially the only thing he does is simply have a conversation with a new resident? He's instantly seen as a threat by the dad, explicitly seen as weird by everyone else, where the young girl who murdered someone is seen as someone safe, and positive for taking care of the child and distracting them from the horrible new situation they find themselves in.

Honestly, he's initially presented as a sexual threat to both children - I've seen some ppl online refer to him as 'paedophilic'. Why is this?

I would argue it's because autistic traits, down to the way autistic people move and speak, are seen as inherently threatening and other. I don't even blame the people who do read him as predatory, as it's so common in media to be presented with people who look/behave like Victor ending up being creepy and weird. Autistic people are infantilised, seen engaging with children, and the audience is told they're weird - even the dad was so strongly hostile to Victor harmlessly talking to his child BEFORE he took him into the forest (something that I completely agree any parent would be reasonable for responding to extremely hostily). It was clear this was something Victor was used too as well.

This is a common trope. A weird, socially inept older person forms an unlikely friendship with an open-minded child - who is often discouraged from being friendly with this person, as they are viewed as sinister and a threat from adults in their life. This is used as a double-bluff - the real threat to the child is actually the young woman who the adults are fine with spending time with their child, as they view her as fundamentally non-threatening.

This enabled me, as a viewer, early on, to discount the information that was alluding to Victor being a threat - but its also a really frustrating trope, because it relies on the fact that audiences do see autistic patterns of behaviour/speech/movement as fundamentally other/threatening. Even if you subvert this trope by making the threat come from somewhere else, and tell the audience that really they're bad/foolish/wrong for thinking Victor was a threat, you're still using the same tropes that make real autistic people be viewed with suspicion simply for existing in the world. Victor is still portrayed as creepy, and still has to earn the protagonists trust in a way other characters don't. He, and other autistic coded characters, still start off in a deficit, at a negative, where other characters start off with a neutral or positive. This really does impact real life people as well!

Another trope that is used that is relevant is the 'weird' character having a special amount of knowledge about the problem at hand that other characters discount because of their weirdness (knowledge often initially only shared with an open-minded child character). This is so frustrating! I even remember this coming up in The Dressmaker, when the intellectually disabled character (I think? It was one of those very generalist disabled character presentations, to my knowledge) witnessed the crime but no-one thought to ask them who did it till the end, and initially presumed he had done it or something (I still enjoyed the movie tho). Its bizarre to me that none's asking Victor what he knows - he even expresses early on to the kid that noone listens to him or cares, from memory. I find this so frustrating, and is again really common - and is also a part of the othering of autistic coded characters - they're 'not of this world', but are part of both and none at the same time.

While this is something that many autistic people feel and experience, it's partially because we're ostracised from our peers because we're so 'weird', so it's really frustrating to see this replicated time and time again in fantasy, horror and thriller genres especially - it sort of reenforces a social standard that's causing the problem. Rather than create understanding and support the elimination of notions of 'weirdness', even if the character is important and initially creepy but not a threat, they're still not of this world. It's still reasonable to see them as weird, because they are weird. The characters are rational for responding to the autistic coded character as if there's something off, because there is - even if they're ultimately on the same side.

This also has real-world impacts. People discount likely threats in favour of fear of unfamiliar behaviour. For example, the whole predatory thing - autistic people are more likely to be victims of predatory behaviour, not perpetrators of it (for example, autistic women are 3x more likely to have been sexually assaulted than non-autistic women). However, there's these stereotypes in media where an autistic character is so weird that they're viewed as threatening - and, in some crime genre tropes, for example, the threat is confirmed. Even though most predators are stand up members of the community (compensating for their misdeeds via good acts) and people are surprised that they were perpetrators of horrific crimes - crime is often so horribly mundane - the media focuses on portrayals of mentally ill loners, utilising coding that is similar and sometimes the same as the coding of autistic characters. Not saying that no autistic person comments a crime of course, they demonstrably do, but utilising a media shorthand for violent/predatory criminals that is also used for autistic characters - as it is much more conforting for audiences to feel as if they would be able to tell from someone's weird behaviour if they're likely to be a threat - can have some really troubling real world consequences. Also not saying that no autistic coded character can possibly be portrayed as a villain - I really enjoyed Zac's plotline in Bones for example, especially the relationship that the two characters had - but it's the focus on these 'weird, socially inept' villians, over the far more common absolutely totally 'normal' person/family member/ local upstanding citizen that makes people disproportionately fear/stigmatise autistic ways of being

Then, other shows play off of this coding to 'subvert' it, reenforcing the connection along the way

All this being said, I really like Victor, I loved his relationship with Donna, and I'm really enjoying the show more broadly. However, I could defs see a lot of the narrative of s1 coming because of the shows use of autistic coded behaviours for Victor

I found it interesting that some fan theories have actually centred Victor's neurodivergence, and suggested that other characters are also neurodivergent and that might be why some of them are here/chosen - I find that interesting, especially because of the use of 'psychosis' in the show being a conduit for seemingly real voices of people who have passed away there

It will be interesting to see where they take it, and I'm excited to see what else happens in season 2 and even more excited for season 3 - but yeah, Victor is defs autistic coded, and some of those tropes do have negative knock-on consequences. Defs something that will impact my enjoyment of the show, depending on where they take it! It could be awesome and exciting and could be devastating or eye rolling etc but still excited to watch

#from tv show victor #from tv show #from epix #from mgm #FROM victor #from mgm+#mgm from #mgm+ from #epix from #from 2022 #autism #autistic coded character #autism tropes #autism and horror

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