#i tried my best lololol
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sohn-der-felder · 24 days ago
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opener for @devilish-family-dramas
It was another boring day for Michael, a groan escaping his throat from the horrible night's rest he had just gotten. It had been his weekend off... had. But he knew he would have to take on more shifts than that due to no one wanting to be security at the godforsaken pizzeria he currently was doing said work at.
He couldn't blame anyone though, and was actually more than happy to handle this himself. It was family business after all and he needed to finish what his father started. He couldn't stand knowing there was something going on in this godforsaken family and he would get to the bottom of it. Michael knew his father wasn't a good man, no, not after the bite. And he knew it was his own fault; every waking second that even followed into his dreams. It was like a constantly looping nightmare that wouldn't let him go. But it was just another day. Another day of getting closer to the truth. Another day to finally pin down where his own father had gone.
Sliding out of bed he rubbed his red eyes; quite puffy from another crying session with his own reflection being an antagonist. After years of trying to come to terms with it all he could never find himself being able to recognize his own face. It's not that it looked replaced or different but more so like he couldn't see it at all. A distorted blur of what could vaguely be described as him but he couldn't grasp it anymore; he no longer understood what he looked like because he no longer understood who he was. It didn't matter anymore though, like many things, as his main objective was far more important to his sanity than a simply reflection. Then again he barely looked at his own nowadays because of the obvious guilt that swam into his sunken eyes.
Michael was but a husk of the once rowdy boy he used to be. A hollow thing that had one mission and one mission only; the one thing that could bring him peace.
Though it wasn't quite the hour to be moping about on it, he thought to himself, sliding on his uniform for the day. His shift had changed to the dayshift as per the request of the irritating recording of his so-called boss, and so of course he obliged. He didn't mind it much at all since he knew that at least for one of his shifts, out of the previous many, he would be able to sit around like nothing was going to come around and shove him in a suit.
He shuddered at the thought of the previous nights causing him so much terror - but he knew it would all be worth it in the long run.
Leaving his apartment after getting ready he would make his way to work; opting into walking since it saved him money and it wasn't that far away. He was quite lucky being able to find a place to stay where he did and at such a decent price too - despite some glaring issues - but he couldn't complain. It could be worse. It could always be worse.
Arriving to the pizzeria at the early hours of the morning he approached the front doors, yawning and reaching into his pocket for the building's keys. Inserting a key he would find himself pushing the door open a little with the force.
This was no good, not good at all. Anxiously he removed the key from the lock and put the jumble of them he had back into his back pocket and poke his head in. "H...Hello?" Michael would meekly call out into the quiet and dark pizzeria. The only light he could use right now was that of the rising sun; but it wasn't quite enough to be able to see any possible dangers. "Is anyone in here? If you are you need to leave, I don't wanna have to call the police this early in the morning."
The sudden change in his usual schedule was nothing, but a vastly different change in his day-to-day life meant far more than a simple shift change. This may mean genuine danger, this may mean an intruder; he just couldn't know what was going on. So he simply, and slowly, opened the door a bit more as he continued to call out. "If... If you show yourself now I won't call the cops. Please don't make my job harder than it has to be."
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oulkheir · 3 months ago
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mafuyu felt lonely because he thought yuki, hiiragi and shizu were a trio due to their band.
but shizu felt lonely because he thought yuki, hiiragi and mafuyu were a trio because they got along better (and because he arrived a bit later in the group)
then if hiiragi started to feel lonely only after yuki's death, i come to the conclusion that hiiragi and yuki were the best besties best friends in the world and that makes things even more tragic regarding their relationship.
that explains why hiiragi is so confused about mafuyu and shizu's feeling of loneliness coming before all that.
that also explains why hiiragi feels so guilty after mafuyu cut them off, and after shizu told him he felt left alone all this time. hiiragi realises he's acted like an egoist along with yuki and didn't pay attention enough to mafuyu and shizu, even though he cared very much about them.
he also realises that his world revolved around yuki and he didn't see earlier that the two other's worlds did not. all what mafuyu and shizu ever wanted is to hang out as friends, as a quartet, and not only spend time with the one they love(d). they wanted to have the quartet back to what it seemed like when they were little, or to build a real one, but hiiragi kept that from happening because of his precious attachment to yuki.
after he understands his mistake, hiiragi softens to mafuyu and shizu and tries to make it up to them, by almost clinging onto them all the time to make sure that he'll never repeat the same fault. he doesn't want them to ever feel lonely again.
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lavb-b · 11 months ago
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It's You.
Haha had this sitting in my ipad for awhile. I thought i'd do some more finishing touches but it looks fine as it is. Can you guess which one is which voice? Please tell, because I can't either...
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yuffi369 · 1 year ago
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Co-DM
P03 x GN!Reader
In which P03 realizes that, for as much crap as he's talked about for you not appreciating his game design, you may actually know what you're talking about, sometimes.
Since you'd managed to keep a back-up of Inscryption's files after... everything, P03 had managed to worm his way onto your computer system's drive. At first, he acted a lot more maliciously; accessing permissions to just about everything, your webcam, your microphone, any files... he looked through just about everything, and began to make moves to even take over your computer entirely.
You were smart, though. You'd managed to get to where the backup copy of Inscryption and all of its files were, and upon threat of deletion, he cooperated. He agreed to only hang around your computer and not tamper with any of your files, or compromise your computer's integrity, but he still wanted to hang around. You didn't mind this for two reasons; one, it did seem rather cruel to keep him locked up in the files with nothing to do, and two, you didn't mind the company anyhow, seeing as most of your friends were over long distance.
One evening, you'd decided to get some work done on a campaign you were running for your friends. The game was in two weeks, so you had plenty of prep time, but there were some maps you had to make, encounters to plan, and you had to figure out some plot ahead of where they were going. The next session would be taken up in the first half by traveling, so it was mostly technical things like potential encounters, which was probably your least favorite part of game writing. You didn't hate any part, necessarily, but your strong suit lied in the story parts.
You were so lost in your struggling thoughts, staring at the VTT interface with a stumped expression, you almost forgot P03 was there. "Hey, idiot, you going to move the mouse, or are you going to let the computer screen fall asleep?"
You blinked rapidly, sitting up straight. "Huh?" You looked down at the tiny P03, who was staring at you as he stood on top of your task bar. "No, I was just thinking."
"What're you even doing, anyway?" he asked, looking at the grid on the screen.
"Writing encounters for my next game session," you replied, scrolling through another webpage you had open where you had access to stat blocks available to you.
"You write games?" he said, incredulously.
"Oh, right, I haven't had a session since you've come around and started living rent-free on my desktop."
"What do you want me to do for money, use your graphics card for crypto mining?"
"No," you replied, curtly.
"Anyway, given your criticisms about my game design, I didn't think you knew a thing about game design." He crossed his arm over his body, rolling his eyes.
"This isn't exactly a card game," you replied. "It's a tabletop roleplaying game. It's based on war gaming, with roleplaying added in. So it's a mixture of tactical gaming and story-based gaming. Not quite a card game like Inscryption."
"Interesting," he replied.
He continued to watch you work- or, well, the more accurate words would be struggle to work. You tried, several times, to put down tokens on the map, only to take them back off after a few minutes of deliberation. Sick of watching you struggle, P03 hovered up to your cursor, dragging it around to get your attention. "Hurry up. I'm sick of the ambient work music you've had in the background for the last hour."
"Sorry, P," you sighed, genuinely feeling a bit bad that he'd watched you do basically nothing this entire time. "I'm not exactly the best at planning encounters..."
"Lemme help, then. Pull up the webpage with the stat blocks."
"Fine. But aren't you programmed to write for Inscryption, not this?"
"I'm a fast learner." He scrolled through the webpage, looking through the stat blocks. After looking over a few stat blocks, he pulled up a stat block for an undead creature, that had an interesting mechanic. "Here. This should keep your players from falling asleep."
You took one look at the stat block and shook your head. "No. I can't use that."
He looked at you with exasperation. "Well why the f#%& not?" he said, the little beep censoring his cursing through the speakers.
"Those are undead creatures," you explained, using your cursor to point at the stat block's creature type. "They're just traveling through grasslands. I can't justify a random group of these just showing up out of the blue."
"I dunno what to tell you. This stat block's probably your best bet for an interesting mechanic that's low-level enough to not kill your players. Maybe have them, I dunno, take a shortcut through a graveyard, or whatever."
"Shortcut through a graveyard..." you repeated, under your breath. After a brief moment, you bolted upright in your seat, pulling up your document and beginning to write at an accelerated pace. P03 probably clocked you at about 90 WPM at your fastest. Once you were satisfied with the narrative text you'd written out for yourself to read upon arrival to the location, you pulled up the VTT and began placing things all around the map, taking your time to make sure things were placed in logical, good-looking locations, making sure to add terrain in places for your rogue to hide behind and take advantage of. Finally, you put the group of undead creatures on the hidden layer to pull up later, and then typed out what loot was to be found in the graveyard as well as on the bodies of the creatures.
Once you were satisfied with your work, you leaned back in your chair, gazing upon the zoomed-out map with pride. "Wow," P03 let out a whistle-like beep, looking at the map with you. "Once you got started, that only took, what? An hour? I would've been able to make the fight really easy, but all that other stuff probably would've taken me the better part of an afternoon."
"Well, I mean, it does take me a while to write something good. But when inspiration hits, I sort of just... go, and don't stop. But I don't have those moments often, or at least not enough for my liking."
P03 turned and glared at you. "Take the damn compliment."
You laughed. "Alright, alright, geez. Thank you."
"Now, let's celebrate with a movie." He pulled up a window with a video player, ready to play the file.
You raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get that?"
"Downloaded it off yarhar.net while you were writing."
"P!"
"What? I scanned it for viruses, it's clean. What do you want me to do, pay for Netflix? With what money?"
You just laughed, shaking your head. "Let me go make some popcorn."
"And I'll... pull up a jpeg of popcorn, I guess."
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petrodragonicapocalypse · 2 years ago
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Bunny and the Bull Soundtrack Sheet Music
i've been messing around working out some of the b&tb soundtrack recently, so i thought i'd share the sheet music i've put together. if anyone decides to give it a play i'd love to hear it! i hope it makes sense - if you notice any mistakes please let me know.
you can listen to the full soundtrack album by Ralfe Band on spotify and on their bandcamp.
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michi-chelle · 1 year ago
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the cutest daichi, change my mind
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scrawlingskribbles · 1 year ago
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oof, I finally bit the bullet & re-pierced my one closed-over ear today, but I ended up having to push the stud in from the back to be sure I lined it up correctly so now my ear looks Quite stupid for the time being and is in fact Very angry at me for stabbing her so brutally lmfao
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29121996 · 22 hours ago
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trying to use astrology to fifure out how to cheat the system n go to the dentist for minimal cost while also gettibg maximum care 👩‍🦯
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bt-writing · 1 month ago
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Mr. Crawling x Reader
A/N: chat i wrote my first NSFW. i have absolutely ADORED playing Homicipher this last week or so and i had to write something good for my man🙏🙏 this piece is based off of Ending 17 where he saves you from Mr. Stitch, i hope you enjoy!! (also, yes, the monster tongue is minecraft enchantment table lololol). AFAB reader, NSFW ending available on my ao3 linked at the end.
Word Count: 7.2k
Needy with Worry
***
Nearly every wall in this god-forsaken realm seemed to drip with the same mysterious, wet substance. It pooled within the valleys of the steel floor plates that lined the walkways and cultivated mold along the cove joints in offshoot rooms. No surface inside this liminal hell-hole was spared from the viscous liquid's presence. It was a sensory nightmare to look at, let alone touch. You wondered how Mr. Crawling dealt with his clothes trailing through it constantly without begging The Bride for a change.
The floor-bound specter in question blissfully followed behind you as you traversed the monster world's boundless hallways, oblivious to any discomfort that his soiled yukata might bring him.
"Your clothes," you pointed down at the man's black garment. "Water ruin. You dislike?" You tried, conveying your concern as best as you could in monster tongue.
"No ruin. Clothes good. A lot of water ruin time," Mr. Crawling replied with a stretched grin. It seems he'd gotten used to the fabric having a soaked trim all the time. The thought of it alone made you long for your bed in the overworld, warmly clad in fuzzy pajamas and safe from any cold, mystery liquid sticking to your body.
You found yourself extending your hand to pat Mr. Crawling's head fondly.
"If we ever get out of here, I'll teach you what socks are," you said wistfully.
He tilted his head curiously, not fully understanding your words. You dismissed his confusion with a brief wave and continued your trek down the dimly lit pathway.
There were a lot of things you had come to miss from the human world. Things you had taken for granted, like safety and comfort and food. God, what you wouldn't give for a hot meal. For every moment you spent lost in the underworld, the duller the pangs of hunger had grown. It was just as Mr. Silvair had hypothesized. The longer you stay in this foreign place, the more your body will change. But, even if you were losing your biological need to eat, the thought of some shitty fast food right now made your mouth water.
You'd have to teach Mr. Crawling about human food, too. The only thing you'd ever seen the man eat was ears, and you were convinced there had to be better tasting things from the human world that he could try. Surely.
Come to think of it, there were a lot of things you wanted to show Mr. Crawling from the human world. He had no reason to, and yet, ever since falling into this place, the ghostly man had made it his duty to stay by your side and protect you from the various "danger persons" lurking the underworld. He taught you his language, kept you safe, kept you happy—or as happy as the given situation allotted for. You wanted to return the favor. But, instead of showing him how to survive, you wanted to show him how to enjoy. There was so much joy to be had in the overworld. Mr. Crawling wasn't meant to stay in such a dark, violent place. He was better than the monster realm. He was kind.
Once you found that goddamn elevator again, you determined that you would bring Mr. Crawling home with you.
"Exit find, together safe place go?" you asked Mr. Crawling tentatively. You weren't sure if it was even possible for him to leave the underworld, whether he wanted to or not. But, the thought of parting from the crawling entity made your heart ache more than you cared to admit.
Your heart wasn't the only thing left aching, however, as your body collided with the hard concrete floor. Mr. Crawling hovered over you, smiling like an over-excited dog. His silky, black hair kissed your blushing cheeks as it draped down from his face.
"Me together you! Together safe place! Happy, happy!" he exclaimed. You'd never seen anyone get so excited at the prospect of simply being with you, it nearly brought tears to your eyes. You swallowed the burn in your throat with a chuckle and gently pushed the man off you.
As you neared the end of the spanning hallway, a metal door caked in rust came into view.
Finally, you thought. Even if the next room proved equally as tedious as this one had, it felt like faux progress was at least being made.
Before your hand could twist its knob, cold fingers wrapped around your ankle, bringing your movements to a halt.
"Do not. Danger." Crawling's mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked towards the door. Through the tension in the air, you noticed an eerie squelching noise coming from the other side.
But, what else could you really do? Who knows how long the two of you had been walking down this hallway, and you desperately wanted not to give up and turn back. There was nowhere else to go but forwards.
You gave Mr. Crawling a look that conveyed there was regretfully no other choice. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself for whatever laid ahead.
The first thing you noticed after entering through the door was the horrible stench. The overwhelming smell of blood and iron weighed heavy in your lungs as goose bumps raced across your skin. It wasn't a smell unfamiliar to the underworld, but nowhere else had it been so concentrated. You were hardly two full steps into the room and your determination was already wavering.
Your eyes found the source of the putrid smell inhabiting the opposite corner of the tiled room. There, someone sat hunched over, eagerly digging into what could only be described as a mass of blood, guts, and flesh on the floor. The noise they made as their hands shifted around the entrails of a mutilated carcass was nauseatingly potent, inescapable, as if it were reverberating inside your skull itself.
The person stopped their rummaging to look back at you from over their shoulder. Through the blood splattered across their face, you recognized them to be the resident you'd dubbed 'Mr. Stitch'. Every encounter with Mr. Stitch thus far had proven to be unsettling; he was certainly a monster you didn't want to stumble across whilst exploring alone. The patch-work man didn't seem to share your apprehensive sentiments whatsoever and quickly sprang up to his feet.
"Hello!" Mr. Stitch greeted enthusiastically, fresh blood and unidentifiable chunks of meat dripping from his lips. "You again! Glad!"
You noticed he had gained a new article of clothing since you last saw him wallowing about in boredom. It was a fur lined jacket, the color indecipherable underneath a wet layer of blood. As your eyes fell to the corpse on the ground, your stomach dropped in grim realization. Your meeting with the other human was brief, yet, there was an undeniable comfort in knowing someone else from the overworld shared your experience in this nightmare. Now, they were torn to unrecognizable shreds before you.
"Human," was all you could manage to squeak out as terror gripped your entirety.
Mr. Stitch pulled on the edges of his new coat proudly and nodded, "Me find they. Play together. ʖᒷᔑℸ. Take this!"
You didn't need to understand his words to piece together what had happened in this room. A sense of urgency rapidly overtook your being. The exit was currently being blocked by the murder scene and its perpetrator. Was Mr. Stitch satisfied with his kill? Would he simply let you pass, just as he'd done the other times?
Your answer came as he wiped his mouth with the back of his discolored hand and stepped towards you and Mr. Crawling.
"You play together me?"
His smile was a sickening void that threatened to swallow you whole. This monster was obviously still riding the high from his recent kill, and your frightened expression must have been like dope for him.
"No play together," you softly shook your head, trying not to convey more fear than you already let on. Mr. Stitch's smile fell for a moment, disappointment washing over his face, before it returned in full force accompanied by a whisper:
"Too bad."
A scream came from your throat as bony fingers dug into your hips. Mr. Stitch lifted you over his shoulder with paranormal ease and, leaving you no time to process the turn of events, sprinted towards the exit.
"You! Don't! Don't!"
You could barely hear Mr. Crawling cry out after you. The sound of Stitch's feet pounding the pavement bounced off the walls. Your vision shook with each step. Using one hand, you used your kidnapper's shoulder to stabilize yourself, and with the other hand began to beat against his back as hard as you could. He let out a gleeful chuckle at your feeble attempt to fight back.
"Fun, fun! They come?" Mr. Stitch laughed, momentarily glancing backwards.
You looked up as well. In the distant shadows, you could make out a visibly distraught Mr. Crawling rounding the corner on his hands and knees. You were scared, but the sight of your companion hot on your captor's heels was reassuring. He'd never let you be separated from him willingly, he'd proven that many times before.
Before you could call out to Crawling, Mr. Stitch ducked into a nearby room and slammed the door behind him. The air was expelled from your lungs as he tossed you carelessly onto the floor. While Stitch fiddled with the lock, you took a moment to observe your surroundings. The room had the same solemn emptiness of a hospital's sleeping quarters. There was a single mattress that rested on a shaky bed frame. More noticeable was the large, dirty window that peered into the hallway you had just been carried down.
You heard frantic rattling coming from the locked door Mr. Stitch held shut. It persisted for a few moments before it went completely silent. An anxious knot built in your stomach as Stitch slowly backed away, confident the door would hold against Mr. Crawling's efforts on its own.
THUD. THUD THUD THUD.
Startled, your neck snapped to the window, where Mr. Crawling was rapidly beating on the pane of glass separating you from him. His pale grey lips were turned into an angry frown.
You failed to notice Mr. Stitch moving back towards you. A yelp escaped your lips as he harshly gripped your nape, picking you up off the floor and slamming your head against the window.
"Stop! Don't!"
You could barely hear Crawling's muffled plea through the ringing in your ears. The impact left you disoriented. A lopsided grin befell Stitch's messy face.
"They angry! Me take you, they angry!" he cackled in amusement, pressing a red fingertip against the glass to point and laugh at the poor man.
"Let me go, asshole," you growled out, struggling against the hand that dug into your neck.
Your aggressive tone only served to spur on the otherworldly monster. Mr. Stitch pushed his lean body flush against your back, squeezing your torso between himself and the cold glass that separated you from Mr. Crawling. The hand that held your head in place slowly brought its calloused fingers to cup your jaw. A horrible spark of vulnerability shot down your spine as your neck was exposed. At the same time, Stitch tilted your hips back and trailed his fingers across your abdomen in a taunting motion.
"Touch you, they dislike," his hot breath whispered into your ear. Even if you couldn't see his face, a cheshire grin was audible in his words. "Fun."
Mr. Stitch held your face at an odd angle. Looking down as much as you could, the sight on the other side of the glass made your heart skip a beat.
Mr. Crawling had stopped banging on the transparent barrier and instead, with large palms pressed flat against the panel, stared directly at Stitch, who was enjoying every single moment of his distress.
You gasped in discomfort. A wet tongue dragged itself from your ear lobe and down your jaw, lapping up any bead of fear-laced sweat it could find until stopping in the dip of your collarbone. The feeling of the monster's slimy tongue against your skin was vile; any effort to escape his touch was met with a harsh shove against the window.
"G-ah!" you cried out in pain.
Stitch's sharp teeth dug into the crook of your neck violently. Thick ripples of blood poured out from the canine indents below your throat. Your neck throbbed with hot pain. This bastard had actually bit you.
With an excited ferocity, that hungry tongue was right back against your flesh, his choppy pink hair tickling your jawline as he drank from the wound he created.
"Want consume human," he purred in desire.
Your stomach dropped, and before he could bite down again, an ear-piercing crack! came from the entrance of the room. Lost in his feeding frenzy against your neck, neither of you noticed Mr. Crawling had resumed his assault against the door—which, this time was so powerful it had splintered the door nearly in two.
"ᓭ⍑╎ℸ !" Stitch yelled in surprise. He clearly had gotten so lost in the taste of your blood that he'd forgotten to pay attention to your very angry guardian.
Cr-ack! A wooden plank flew off the door.
And back over Mr. Stitch's shoulder you went. With long strides, he bounded out of the room through the door that wasn't half wood chips and sprinted down a musty, brick-lined hallway.
The adrenaline rush was audible in his half-gasp, half-laughs as he turned down another corner in the dimly lit corridor. Stitch slowed his pace and looked back expectantly to see if the black-clad resident was still coming. He actually wanted Mr. Crawling to keep chasing him.
Coarse shuffling could be heard in the darkness. Both you and Mr. Stitch were stuck in place at the sight of Mr. Crawling, who was no longer crawling, but standing so tall he had to tilt his head so as to not hit the ceiling. His giant figure swayed slightly as he took a few slow steps towards you.
"You don't."
There was a silent fury in his smile that made even you scared, though you knew the man would never direct his anger at you. When you first met Mr. Crawling, it was true that he frightened you. The way he crawled along the ground was a bit uncanny, and the bloody stains where eyes should be was something you'd find straight out of a horror movie—hell, that went for this entire place—but the way he stood before you now was a different kind of terrifying. His presence alone felt inescapable and threatening-
That's it. He's trying to intimidate Mr. Stitch by standing upright.
"They stand! They angry!" cheered your tormenter.
Stitch was significantly smaller than Mr. Crawling, but much more agile. Crawling had told you before that he preferred not to walk. Maybe it's because he's not good at walking? His steps were slow and steady, but he was probably putting all his effort into the small movement. You couldn't really imagine the man running.
On the other hand, Mr. Stitch had turned tail and hauled you down the hallway and into a new room once again.
"Under sheet, go."
On the back end of the room was a long, white curtain that he pulled shut, concealing the two of you at a glance. Your heartbeat drummed softly in your ears, anticipating Mr. Crawling to burst into the room like your knight in shining armor and save you from the man who was itching to eat you alive. But Mr. Crawling never came.
"He not want?" Mr. Stitch pondered, looking back and forth between the slit in the curtain and your anxious face beside him. He finally settled on watching you. "Me take you, he dislike. Why?" he asked curiously.
His blue eye stared intensely into your own, as if they held the answer as to why Mr. Crawling wanted you back so desperately. You shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, which only caused him move in closer, like a predator stalking his prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Mr. Stitch's hips hovered above your own, his hands straddling your sides. You leaned your head back as far as you could manage in a pathetic attempt to distance yourself from him, but the compromising position on the floor made it difficult to do so. A devious smile stretched over his face.
"They like you?"
A soft blush painted your cheeks. Mr. Crawling had said many times before that he 'like you' and 'want together you,' but you had never really interpreted it as anything but innocent, the same way a dog would enjoy your company and want to stay by your side. At least, that was what you had kept telling yourself, that Mr. Crawling craved your companionship and not you in particular. Lately however, you weren't entirely sure. Several times had the man gone out of his way to protect you, always making sure to ask 'are you okay?' and 'hurt exist?' in the aftermath of danger. And, as much as you hated to admit it, his concern for you gave you butterflies. The way his cold hands would run through your hair to comfort you, or how he would cover your body with his much larger one to shield you from the more dangerous residents of the underworld, it always left you with a warm, tingly feeling. You chewed your lip softly.
"They like me," you affirmed. Stitch's eyes lit up with this information, filling you with dread.
"I see. They like you. They dislike you gone," he brought his hand to trace dangerously along your throat. You clenched your teeth. "You die, they dislike. They upset, they angry!"
Woosh.
"S-stop!"
Cr-unch.
You sat in shock. You had fully expected Mr. Stitch's hand to wrap around your throat and slowly squeeze the life out of you. Instead, weight was quickly thrown off your body when a grey hand shot through the curtain and pulled him away. A splatter of blood followed his cry for mercy and tainted the virgin white curtains separating you from what was most likely Mr. Stitch's obliterated corpse.
Your breath caught in your throat as that same hand gripped the stained sheet and pulled it open.
Mr. Crawling!
His hands were warm and wet as they cupped your face gently, but you didn't care one bit. It felt so good to be back in his arms.
"Are you okay? You hurt?" he asked, inspecting every inch of your face meticulously. One hand left your cheek and delicately hovered over the bloody bite mark above your collarbone. It still hurt quite a bit, but you figured the adrenaline was working to mask most of the pain.
"Please don't worry. Me good," you spoke just above a whisper, returning his gesture and cupping his face in your shaky hands.
Mr. Crawling let a deep sigh slip past his frowning lips before he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, resting his head on your non-injured shoulder.
"They take you. Me surprised," he held you tighter, "they hurt you, me angry."
He really knew how to make your heart flutter without even meaning to.
"I'm okay, really. Don't worry," you knew he couldn't understand what you were saying, but you were too exhausted to care at the moment. "Thank you," you said, wrapping your arms around him.
"Me protect you. You don't go again. Together."
You could tell the whole affair had really shaken the sweet man up quite a bit. He hated to be apart from you. He probably felt helpless watching Stitch hurt you and not being able to stop it. You stroked his hair in a sympathetic motion.
"There, there. Me nice resident go. They heal me," you reassured. After some time, your body typically healed pretty quickly on its own in the monster world, but you figured going to see Mr. Silvair about your injury couldn't hurt, and maybe it would put Mr. Crawling at ease, too.
He sat still for a second before slowly nodding his head against your shoulder. You smiled to yourself at his childlike behavior. It felt nice to hold each other like this.
Did... did you like Mr. Crawling?
You sat still, taking in the way his nose dug into your collarbone, his soft breaths tickling your skin as he exhaled. He fit so naturally against you. His huge palms rested against the curves and dips of your back in a way that made you feel small, but safe. Your face felt warm.
Shit.
. . . .
It didn't take long for the two of you to find your way back to Mr. Silvair's territory.
Mr. Chopped greeted you with his usual chipper 'hello!' but quickly squinted his eyes, hiding from the sight of blood running down your neck with a 'blood! scared, scared'!
Hearing the commotion that Mr. Chopped was causing, Mr. Silvair peeked his head out of his room with his ever-present eerie smile. You gave him a sheepish wave and pointed to your wound.
"Me hurt. You fix? Heal?" you asked.
The lanky, silver haired man nodded, happy with any opportunity to 'fix,' as he loved to do.
"Me fix. There, wait," he said, pointing a thin finger towards the bed against the wall, and disappeared back into his private room.
You sat down just as Silvair ordered, and Mr. Crawling took his place dutifully besides you. You had a feeling he'd be more clingy than usual for some time. Which was a scary thought; he was pretty needy to begin with. But truthfully, you didn't mind his desire for attention. You enjoyed feeling needed by someone.
A few minutes later, Mr. Silvair emerged with a tray of tools and got to work mending your laceration. You grimaced in pain as he poured a cool liquid over it—some sort of disinfecting agent, you assumed.
Mr. Crawling, noticing your discomfort, grabbed your forearm and held it tightly.
"Are you okay? Want stop?" He asked with concern.
"Me good. They help," you reassured. Though, you knew from experience that the rest of the process wouldn't exactly be pain free. Mr. Silvair had tended to your injuries many times before. Truthfully, you were lucky he was one of the good residents. Between teaching you the monster tongue when you first came to the underworld and healing your body anytime you found yourself hurt, Mr. Silvair was a pretty dependable entity to have on your side.
Mr. Crawling lowered himself back down begrudgingly while Silvair continued his ministrations. After a few stitches, ointment, and some bandages, you were all fixed up and approved to go. After thanking him and waving Mr. Chopped goodbye, you and Crawling made your way back to the room you had unofficially deemed as yours.
The second your head made contact with the stiff mattress, the full weight of your exhaustion hit you in full. It had been a long day, and now that all of the adrenaline from earlier had left your body, you could feel yourself crashing.
You heard rustling next to the bed and glanced down. Mr. Crawling sat watchfully, ready to defend you from any resident that dared disturb your sleep. You smiled and patted his head gratefully, feeling safe under his guard. And with that, you let sleep take over.
. . . .
ao3 for NSFW ending ;)
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youaresimplylovely · 8 months ago
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Fashion n' Cars (Part Five)
Pairings: F1 Grid x Verstappen!Supermodel!Reader Summary: Max Verstappen has a sister who is a famous supermodel but what happens when other F1 drivers start taking interest in her? Warnings: we still have overprotective maxie <3 this is an smau but a short short drabble for lewis!! Tried my best to replicate the espn f1 format lol <3 Fc: Emily Ratajkwoski Proofread!! A/N: part five is hereee!! Woohoo! We're almost 600 followers and ily all so so so much!!
part one part two part three part four
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ynverstappen
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ynverstappen y/n and estie bestie in the uk 💨
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maxverstappen1 WHAT THE FUCK HE WAS NOT ON MY LIST.
estebanocon YOU HAVE A LIST? AM I DEAD? ynverstappen LOL NO HAHAHAHA
user5 WE LOVE YN AND ESTIE BESTIEEE
charles_leclerc ITS FUCKING ESTEBAN. WHY DID YOU GO TO MY HOUSE AT 3AM. @maxverstappen1
maxverstappen1 better safe than never.
charles_leclerc also looking beautiful y/n 😍
maxverstappen1 it's like you want me to kill you again at 3am.
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The busy and calm streets of London, relieved you. You were with Lewis since he was still touring your around. Although, you ask yourself. Do you really need it? or do you just want to spend time with him? You've traveled for so many times but this is the only time you've asked someone to tour you.
"London is a nice place." You mutter as you chuckle, watching the beautiful view of the sky from the streets that you and Lewis were on.
"It is." Lewis smiles, turning his head around to face you. Suddenly, a stranger who was in a hurry accidentally pushed Lewis causing him to lean in closer to you. What you didn't expect was you two to kiss.
Your lips were stiff, you didn't expect the kiss. So did Lewis. His lips pressed against yours, eyes wide open, staring at each other. A few moments passed, you pulled away from the kiss. You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck as you smile at him nervously.
He stares into your eyes, hands slowly cupped your cheek. He leaned in closer to kiss you. Your eyes widened, you didn't know what to do. Lewis continued to kiss you for a few moments eventually pulling away.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He mumbles, pulling you in closer to him to kiss you again.
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f1
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f1 what a close one between the red bull and the mercedes!
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espnf1
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espnf1 👀
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ynverstapen wowowowowow
maxverstappen1 shut up. (i still love you though.) lewishamilton love you too brother in law! maxverstappen1 God no.
user12 WHAT DO YOU MEAN ANOTHER DRIVER MAX EMILLIAN VERSTAPPEN
user4 maxie knows something we don't
user10 lewis and yn endgame??????
user18 NAH I THINK ITS GONNA BE ANOTHER DRIVER
maxverstappen1
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maxverstappen1 pov: me seeing the comments on the espnf1 post. (captioned by yn)
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ynverstappen LOLOLOL <3
ynverstappen
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ynverstappen he kissed me.
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TAGLIST
@euphoricchills @charlesleclerx @amethyst-bitch @dr4g0ngirl @likedbygaslyy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bibissparkles @lokideservesahug @hiireadstuff @urfavouriteanon @darleneslane @shelbyteller @spookystitchery @justtprachisblog @xoscar03 @snapeeballsack @silverxxs-world @thearchieves @destinyg237 @juliee4everial @thebasicbiatch @glossiersworld @aadu2173 @honethatty12 @halleest @callsignwidow @evie-119 @exotic-iris13 @dark-night-sky-99 @delululeclerc @eiaaasamantha @hrts4scarr @felicityforyou @sya-skies @hockeyboysarehot @iloveyou3000morgan @sugaspawsmari @aymfsts @khaylin27 @be-your-coffee-pot @yettobedetermined7 @dhanihamidi @formula1simp @lanadelray1989 @petrifying-risotto @erikasurfer @deerieme @someonewhosfallenapart @charlottef1 @bokutos-babyowl @lillithhs-world
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onlyswan · 1 year ago
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summary: in which jungkook loves to see you smile and you are the god of mischief.
idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff / word count: 2.6k
content/warnings: mention of childhood insecurity, mention of biting during s*x, jk is very touchy, they watch a movie and the guard thinks they’re doing sumn nasty bc they’re both a menace honestly 😭, jk accidentally bites his lower lip and bleeds
> in which masterlist!
note: hi !! this is a repost of a drabble i wrote two (?) years ago but accidentally deleted lololol so if you’ve read it before that’s why! but this is now an edited version with a new title <3
“baby,”
jungkook calls your attention out of nowhere, pausing the movie playing on the tablet you’re holding. the frown painted on his face is difficult to miss.
“i have a question.”
“so randomly?” you raise an eyebrow. “ask me then.”
“why do you cover your face when you’re happy?”
the wide-eyed look of genuine curiosity on his face is identical to yesterday’s, when he asked you what the word ineffable meant after hearing it in a song.
the question prompts you to take a glance at the screen, where a sophisticated woman has a hand over her mouth as she giggles with her elite acquaintances about an old but classic rich husband joke.
“it’s not that it bothers me, i just- i’ve noticed it lately and i-i wish to see you smiling and laughing more freely, you know?” he tries his best to choose his words carefully, offering you a kind smile as he lovingly caresses your head. “it makes me happy when i see you happy.”
“oh,” you blink at him, mind going blank as you attempt to form an answer in your head. his touch isn’t exactly helping you either— you just want to melt into him and not think of anything at all, float on cloud-nine and stay there forever.
however, seeing as he asked you the question out of the blue, he must’ve been thinking about it a lot. you’ve only been dating for a few months, so it’s understandable for him to eagerly seek the answers to his curiosities and observations. if anything, it feels nice to learn he gives this much attention to you— possibly notices things you don’t even know about yourself. for a split second the thought crosses your mind, that beyond a consciousness, you are tangible and real.
“it’s a habit i guess? when my teeth were falling out for the first time as a kid, i became insecure, so i decided that i’d just smile without showing my teeth from then on. like this.”
you demonstrate by lifting up the corners of your lips.
“and yeah-”
as if he’s helplessly pulled by the magnet of attraction, he leans down to kiss you and interrupt your sentence.
“i’d cover my face when i couldn’t contain my smile or laugh. and even when they grew back, it felt weird. like my smile didn’t belong to my face? if that even makes sense.”
“yah, that’s not true! you’re very pretty whether you’re smiling, or crying and-” his warm hand cups your cheek, and he stupidly grins as he’s about to say something cheesy. “even when you’re just breathing.”
the corners of your lips rise again. this time, it’s genuine.
“oh? how romantic.” you scrunch your nose cutely, and his heart flutters.
you hold onto his wrist, revelling in the way his thumb softly traces shapes on your skin.
“i’m over that, though. it was so long ago. i don’t think about it obsessively anymore at least. it’s really just a habit i haven’t gotten rid of.” you reassure him, meaning every word that you say.
we all have our secrets and fears that we keep only to ourselves, that much is understood between the two of you. there are circumstances in which withholding information is necessary. however, the one big promise you made to each other is to never lie. honesty and trust. ease and consolation. every word, every syllable hanging from your lips an addition to the naked history of your love. passed down stories. confessions. blurry memories. shutter sounds. curses. laughter. song dedications. that much is true.
“why are you looking at me like that?” you bite the inside of your cheek to conceal a smile, beguiled by his love drunk eyes seemingly stunned by your mere presence beside him.
“like what, baby?”
you shy away from his gaze. “like you’re either thinking that i hang the stars on the sky every night… or that you want to eat me alive.”
to confirm your words true, he takes your hand and sinks his teeth on the flesh of your palm where your thumb is connected. his wide doe eyes peer at you innocently, sparkling like of a little kid eating the fluffy pancakes he’s been craving since last night.
the latter might sound like a joke to others, but jungkook does eat you alive. almost. basically. you’re not even shocked at the act anymore. soon enough, you’ll memorize the mark of his teeth carving their mark on your skin, both in sexual and non-sexual setting.
“babe,” you send him a bewildered stare. “i really don’t think i taste as good as you make me out to be.”
he parts away with his eyebrows knitted in disagreement. “not true. you’re yummy.”
“oh, shut up!” you burst into a fit of giggles. your hands automatically attempts to fly to your face, but he has your wrists bound with his secure grip. you don’t resist. you only laugh harder when your sight lands on your hands tangled together.
“there’s ____’s beautiful smile.” he coos, proceeding to pepper your face with appreciative kisses.
and you fold. your back lands on the soft mattress, and your belly starts aching from laughter when he purposely blows on the spot on your neck where you’re most ticklish. hot tears gather at the corner of your eyes, and jungkook watches them fall down your temples as his lips graze your skin and your body shakes underneath him.
tears of joy and pleasure are the only tears you’re going to shed, he promises himself. you’re going to smile and make flowers bloom everyday, he promises you and the earth.
your teeth chattering from the cold is a shy away from your awkward smile, he notices the endearing resemblance as you shiver beside him.
“hmm, what did i tell you about cinema one?” he teasingly asks as he draws back the armrest that serves as a divider between the two of you.
“that it’s fucking cold in there-” you surrender, tone sounding annoyed. “here. whatever!”
“and who still decided to wear their smallest pieces of clothing?” he continues to taunt you while he pulls you into his body’s natural warmth.
you sigh, whether it’s in relief or annoyance, you’re not quite sure.
“i just wanted to wear my new cute clothes.” you whisper-shout.
the giant screen is still playing trailers of the upcoming movies this year, and you’re already mentally updating your calendar to accommodate them despite your hectic schedule. a two-hour vacation, you would always describe films.
he chuckles, and more shivers run down your spine at the deep and raspy sound being so close to your ear. “you do look cute today, baby.”
he catches the cloth of your skirt between his fingers, and somehow, he ends up squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh. you swallow thickly, unconsciously closing your thighs together and trapping his hand in between them.
“thank you, handsome.” you grip his wrist to move it away. you tut. “no silly business, though. i really want to watch this movie.”
his shoulders drop dramatically in disappointment. “okay… want to sit on my lap so i can keep you warm then?”
you look behind you to see that there’s no people sitting on your side, so no one’s view would get blocked if you were to agree to his proposition. the room is practically empty, with a few scattered people sitting on the sides.
you spend the first fifteen minutes of the movie in comfort and bliss, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you. he took off his jacket earlier, and he splayed it over your lap as to not neglect the goosebumps rising all over your freezing legs.
“so stubborn,” jungkook muttered under his breath while he was taking off the jacket, an amused smile etched on his lips. you would’ve felt bad, but you knew he likes doing these things for you, so you only playfully stuck your tongue out at him.
look, to be fair, it is your first time in this cinema. you’ve been on many dates at this theater with jungkook, but for some reason, you’ve never watched a movie in cinema one until tonight. it’s cold in the other three cinemas as well, the kind of cold you’ve gotten comfortable with, so when jungkook booked the tickets last night and told you ‘it’s really cold in there, wear something warmer,’ you thought he was just being ridiculous.
hah, how cold could it possibly be? right?
fine, jungkook is right. you are stubborn.
and you prove it once more when a flashlight shines over your face. the security guard holding it approaches your seat- wait, no, jungkook’s seat. jungkook is your seat. what?!
“i’m sorry, but only one person can sit on the chair. please comply.”
you trace the direction of her eyes to find jungkook’s hands tucked underneath the jacket on your lap, resting on your inner thighs to steal their warmth. you send him a sharp glare, but it doesn’t affect him one bit. he only shrugs, obviously hiding a smirk as he pretends to be the most innocent person in the room.
you pull up the armrest next to you with a pout, slipping back into your original seat against your wishes.
“he was just warming up his hands. i promise!” you whisper not so subtly to the guard.
she only clears her throat and awkwardly nods in response, walking up the stairs to observe the rest of the movie watchers.
you bury your face in your hands as your body vibrates with mirth mixed with humiliation, and jungkook’s jaw nearly falls on the floor.
“sometimes i can’t believe you’re real. how do you never get shy?”
“i was just clearing things up!” you whine, hitting his arm using the side of a closed fist, which he massages with a squeaked ‘ouch.’ “you’re the one who put me in a compromising situation!”
“well, nobody told me taking care of my girlfriend was a crime!”
you carry on with watching the movie after that embarrassing scene, and you’ve forgotten that you’re cold until you’re uncontrollably shivering again. you begin rubbing your arms in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the goosebumps, but you eventually abandon all hope.
you sadly look over at your boyfriend to plead for help once more, but he has gotten too engrossed with the film to feel a pair of shaking pupils beseech him intensely. he finally opened the box of popcorn he’s been saving for the climax.
and he was the one who wanted to do something other than watch the movie.
you grimace.
you are no stranger to his confusing attention span.
after carefully studying the room to ensure the guard is no longer in sight, you unceremoniously climb on jungkook’s lap again. your actions cause some pieces of popcorn to fall from the box, and he scrambles to stuff them all in his mouth before the powder stains any of your clothes. yours are new, after all.
his face displays a puzzled expression, screaming i thought this was supposed to be a compromising situation?! and his soft rosy cheeks on the other hand-
“you look like a chipmunk who got caught in the headlights stealing food with its mouth full.”
the screen flashes a frame of the clear, blue sky in the aftermath of a ferocious storm. it sends the fleeting sunlight to shine on your face— just long enough for him to capture the image of how pretty you are when you giggle, and most of all, how your hand moves to cover your face, but drops on his arm before it could reach its intended destination.
he recognizes it as a conscious effort, and he feels a tug in his heart. his sweet, precious lover. you will never do anything wrong in his eyes, he thinks to himself as he hugs you closer for a kiss. the feeling of your smile against his lips might just be one of his most favorite things in the world.
he pulls away with a toothy grin to match yours, offering you the box of popcorn. the beautiful smile you claimed to not belong on your face lingers as you turn it down and sip on the lemonade instead. and then it simmers down to your usual mellow smile, to a deep frown, until your lips quiver as the resolution of the film reduces you into a puddle of tears.
jungkook likes to keep mental notes about you.
an excerpt from today:
1. how to make ____ smile? act cute.!! :)
2. how to make ____ cry? watch a son and mother reunite after eighteen long years.
p.s. i think i cried harder, but quieter ????
3. how to make ____ angry mad furious? kill off the said mother unnecessarily at the end of the movie for the sake of shu shock value.
the lights turn on all at the same time as the credits start rolling down on the plain black screen. your body slumps back on your boyfriend, drained by the series of overwhelming events that transpired in the past two hours. he waves his hand infront of your face, but your eyes remain unfocused and unblinking.
“this is the worst movie i have ever seen in my life. four out of five stars.”
he snorts at your unseriousness. “that is the most stars you’ve given this month. and it’s the 29th.”
“see? it’s the worst! i’m going to have nightmares!” you cry out with an exaggerated shudder, grabbing his forearms to envelope yourself in his embrace.
“honestly, pushing her off the cliff was a bit too mu-” his sentence gets rudely cut off when your shoulder accidentally hits his chin. you scrambled to go back to your seat, and this escalated to him accidentally biting the inside of his lower lip. the unusual mix of the bitter and salty taste of metal permeates his tongue as an unexplainable expression spreads across his face.
on the other hand, you’re too preoccupied with mischievously smiling at the guard standing down on the floor. she measures you up with a displeased look worse than earlier’s, but much to your relief, she proceeds to walk out after scanning the room one last time.
“baby!” jungkook yells in pain to grab your attention, jutting out his bottom lip to show you the wound that you inflicted.
“oh my god- shit, shit, shit-” you curse, digging your hand in your bag in search of your handkerchief. “i’m so sorry!”
you press the cloth on the bleeding, profusely apologizing to him with a wince. “i panicked! i’m sorry, i’m sorry!”
he pushes your wrist away for a moment, doe eyes squinting at you accusingly. “you just wanted to play around with her, didn’t you?”
you chew on your bottom lip, the sight of blood that has stained the handkerchief sends a pang of guilt across your chest. “sorry… her face- she was just so funny.”
“fuck, why are you like this?!” he throws his head back with a bright laugher that echoes throughout the theater. “ah, you’re so adorable!”
“come back here!” you scold him, holding his face in your hands to crane it back down.
he juts out his bottom lip again, but his body continues to vibrate with lighthearted chortles.
“does it hurt?”
“it hurts…! i think i might seriously cry!” he answers despite his high tolerance for pain, distorting the truth so that he could drown himself in the gratifying feeling of being doted on by you.
he writes another mental note as you inspect his wound, repetitive bloopers playing in the background of the love bubble the two of you share.
4. ____ likes playing games with strangers. must protect with my life.
taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D
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the-winter-spider · 2 months ago
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Invisible | Part 11
Pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventually lololol)
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: Angst, stupid people, dramaaaaa
A/N: I aint ready for peace yet 😇🫶🏻
Masterpost
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NYU 4th Year
The late afternoon sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon as you exited your lecture hall, your bag slung over your shoulder and your mind already racing with thoughts of your looming paper. The quad was buzzing with students heading off to their weekend plans, and you were lost in your thoughts when you spotted Natasha leaning casually against a lamppost, her red hair catching the golden light.
“There she is,” Nat called, waving you over with a grin. “What took you so long? I’ve been standing here for ages.”
“Class ran late,” you said, rolling your eyes as you walked up to her. “Professor decided to drop a surprise reading quiz on us.”
Natasha scoffed, falling into step beside you. “Reading quizzes on a Friday should be illegal. Anyway, there’s a party tonight at Walker’s place. You coming?”
You hesitated, already feeling the weight of your weekend workload. “I don’t know, Nat. I’ve got that big paper due next week, and I’m kind of behind. I was planning to get a head start tonight.”
Natasha groaned, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated plea. “Come on, please? Wanda already bailed on me, and I really want to see this guy who’s going to be there. I can’t get stuck with the boys by myself—they’ll ruin my whole vibe.”
You sighed, torn between responsibility and the infectious energy of your best friend. “Fine,” you said reluctantly. “But I’m starting my introduction before we leave. No arguments.”
“Scout’s honor,” Natasha said, raising three fingers in a mock salute.
You gave her a pointed look. “You weren’t even a Girl Scout.”
She grinned, undeterred. “True, but I can feel it. In another life, I was definitely a spy.”
You laughed, shaking your head as you parted ways. “Yeah, sure, Nat.”
By the time you got back to your dorm, Natasha was already busy texting, her phone lighting up with each rapid-fire message. You could tell by the sly smile on her face that she was talking to her crush. The thing about Natasha was that she always knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. She was a spitfire, sharp-tongued and unapologetically confident, but underneath all that fire, she was a hopeless romantic. Most guys your age weren’t ready for someone like her, but that never stopped her from trying.
You sat at your desk and opened your laptop, determined to at least get your introduction done before the night derailed into party chaos. The words flowed easily, and by the time you finished your intro and even managed to start your first paragraph, you felt a small sense of accomplishment.
Alright you texted Natasha, I’m done for now. Let’s get ready.
Within seconds, your phone buzzed with her reply: Finally!!! Be there in 5.
True to her word, Natasha burst into your room moments later, her arms loaded with a makeup bag and a pair of heels. You both commandeered Wanda’s bed, laying out a mess of possible outfits, debating the merits of each one as you tried to find the perfect look.
You finally settled on a sleek black mini-dress that hugged your figure in all the right places, paired with short heels and of course your signature neckless: your locket. Natasha went for a bold red jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and sky-high heels.
Standing side by side in front of the mirror, Natasha let out a low whistle. “Damn, we’re hot.”
You giggled, adjusting the strap of your dress. “We clean up nice.”
Natasha’s eyes drifted to the delicate gold locket resting against your collarbone, and she smiled. “That locket… you’ve been wearing it forever. I’ve never seen you without it.”
You glanced down, your fingers lightly brushing over the familiar weight of the locket. “Yeah, it’s kind of a family thing, my mom gave it to be before she passed"
Natasha, smiled sadly her curiosity piqued. “You never did tell me what’s inside.”
You held the locket, fidgeting it between your fingers. “On one side, there’s a quote about love that my great-great-great-grandmother supposedly wrote. My grandma told me everyone who’s had this locket would place a photo of the man they loved on the other side—so they’d always be close to their heart."
Natasha’s eyes softened. “Your whole family sounds like a bunch of hopeless romantics.”
You laughed. “Apparently. Guess it runs in the blood.”
Natasha smirked, leaning in. “So… who’s in yours?”
You hesitated, your fingers lingering on the locket before closing it. “No one,” you said, offering a small smile. “I don’t really have anyone to put in there right now.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Mhm, sure. No one at all?”
You rolled your eyes. “Not everyone is as quick to fall head over heels as you, Nat.”
“Hey,” she said, placing a hand over her heart dramatically, “I just know what I want.”
“And what you deserve,” you added with a grin.
Natasha nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”
With that, you both grabbed your bags and made your way out of the dorm, ready to take on the night. Natasha’s phone buzzed again, and she couldn’t hide the excitement on her face as she typed back.
You glanced at her, smiling softly. “Texting your mystery man?”
“Maybe,” she said with a wink. “Tonight’s going to be fun—you’ll see.”
The crisp night air buzzed with the energy of the weekend as you and Natasha made your way down the crowded street, laughter and music spilling out from houses along the way. The distant thump of bass grew louder with every step, and soon you were standing in front of John Walker’s house, its windows glowing and the porch already packed with students.
Natasha looped her arm through yours as you approached the door, her heels clicking against the pavement. “You know,” she said, her voice light but teasing, “I always thought you might have Bucky’s picture in that locket.”
You stumbled slightly, your eyes snapping to hers. “What?”
She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, don’t act so surprised. You two have been inseparable since kindergarten. Best friends, sure, but there’s always been… something.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but she didn’t give you the chance. “I mean, hey, no judgment. I’m just saying I’m a little surprised he’s not in there.”
You were about to respond, to come up with some half-hearted deflection, but before you could, Natasha grinned and yanked you toward the door. “No time for heart-to-hearts now. Let’s find the boys.”
The moment you stepped inside, the heat and noise hit you like a wave. The living room was packed, bodies swaying to the beat of the music as red solo cups were passed around. You caught a glimpse of a makeshift beer pong table in the corner, surrounded by a cheering crowd. The scent of cheap alcohol and sweat mingled in the air, and someone had already spilled something sticky on the floor.
Natasha scanned the room with a practiced eye, her grip still firm on your arm. “There they are,” she said, nodding toward the far side of the room where Steve and Bucky were leaning against a wall, talking. Steve had his usual easy smile, but Bucky’s eyes flicked across the room, as if he was keeping tabs on everything and everyone.
Natasha released your arm and nudged you forward with a sly grin. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” Before you could protest, she disappeared into the crowd, already hunting down her mystery man.
You took a deep breath and weaved your way through the throng of people, your heart picking up speed as you got closer to them. Bucky’s head turned slightly, and when his eyes landed on you, a slow smile spread across his face. He nudged Steve, who looked up and gave you a warm wave.
Here’s a revised version with smoother transitions and more natural dialogue flow:
“Well, well,” Bucky’s voice cut through the noise as you and Natasha finally reached him and Steve. He leaned casually against the wall, a lopsided grin on his face. “Look who decided to show up.”
Steve chuckled, raising his cup in a mock toast. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight. Thought you had some big paper to write?”
“I did,” you replied, crossing your arms with a smirk. “But Natasha here wouldn’t take no for an answer. Said it was a life-or-death situation.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Natasha, relentless? Shocking.”
“She’s practically a force of nature,” you said, glancing around. “So, drinks?”
Steve drained the last of his beer and set his cup down with a satisfied sigh. “You two go ahead. I’m gonna head over to the keg and see if I can beat my personal record tonight.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Best of luck, Stevie.”
Steve winked as he stepped away. “Now that you’re here, I don’t need it.”
As he disappeared into the crowd, you and Bucky stood there in a comfortable silence for a moment, the bass of the music thumping around you. Then, Bucky gave you one of his signature half-smiles, the kind that always made your heart skip a beat. “Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand and pulling you toward the drink table.
His touch was brief but enough to send a spark up your arm. You followed without protest, a small smile tugging at your lips. When you reached the table, he handed you a drink, his fingers brushing against yours—a fleeting, seemingly innocent moment that left your cheeks warm.
“Thanks,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze as you lifted the cup to your lips.
Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. But before you could think of a response, Natasha appeared from behind you, clapping her hands together, cutting through the moment.
“Alright, people,” she announced, her tone playful. “What’s the plan? Beer pong? Dancing? Or do we just stand here and look devastatingly cool?”
Bucky smirked, his eyes still on you. “I think we’ve already nailed the last one.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “How about we find Steve before he gets himself into trouble?”
Bucky raised his cup in agreement. “Solid plan.”
With that, the three of you moved back into the crowd, weaving through the crush of people and the haze of music. Even as the party buzzed around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Bucky’s lingering gaze—or the way your locket, pressed against your chest, seemed to grow heavier with every step.
"There he is!" Natasha beamed, stopping "Buck you go watch him, me and my girl are gonna dance for a bit!" Before either of you could respond, Natasha was already pulling you away, you turned around glancing over your shoulder briefly to see Bucky's blue eyes smiling at you as he gave you a single wave.
The music thumped loudly in your ears, the bass vibrating through the floor as you swayed with Natasha in the middle of the crowded living room. The alcohol buzzed warmly in your veins, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about everything—about the paper, about the tension that always seemed to linger whenever Bucky was around.
You and Nat were giggling, holding onto each other as you moved to the beat. It was freeing, exhilarating even, until your gaze drifted across the room and landed on him.
Bucky was leaning casually against the wall, his signature smirk firmly in place as he talked to a blonde. She was laughing at something he said, her hand lightly resting on his arm. They were close—too close. Her hair glinted under the dim party lights, and the way she leaned in, hanging on his every word, made your stomach drop.
Your world stopped for a second. The music faded into the background, replaced by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You blinked, trying to shake it off, telling yourself it didn’t matter, but the familiar ache settled in your chest anyway.
You tore your eyes away, grabbing your red solo cup and downing the rest of its contents in one go. The burn of the cheap liquor didn’t help, but it gave you something to focus on. You crushed the cup in your hand and let it drop to the floor, the plastic crumpling beneath your heel as you forced yourself to keep dancing.
“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath, plastering a fake smile on your face.
Natasha laughed beside you, her movements loose and carefree. She slurred slightly, her words barely audible over the music. “Hey! You… you took your necklace off!”
You frowned, reaching up to touch your neck instinctively. “No, I didn’t.”
“Then where is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she swayed in place.
Your hand moved frantically over your collarbone, panic setting in as your fingers found only bare skin. Your locket was gone. “Shit,” you whispered, your eyes wide as you started scanning the floor beneath your feet. “Nat, it’s gone!”
Her hands immediately went to your shoulders, steadying you. “Don’t panic,” she said, her voice slurring but her tone trying to stay calm. “It… it can’t be far.”
But it was too late. The panic clawed its way up your throat, and tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. The music was too loud, the crowd too thick. You dropped to your knees, your hands scrambling over the sticky floor as you searched desperately for the locket.
“Excuse me! Sorry!” you mumbled, trying to push past people, but it was no use. The sea of feet around you made it impossible to see anything.
You backed up, bumping into someone behind you. A pair of hands immediately settled on your waist, steadying you. “Hey, you okay?” the guy asked, but you shoved him off without even looking, your vision blurring with tears.
Natasha was back at your side in an instant, her hands on your shoulders again, her mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear her. The world felt like it was spinning too fast, and all you could think about was the locket—your family heirloom. The one your mother had given you before she passed away. The one that had been passed down for generations. And now it was gone, lost in the chaos of some stupid party.
Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stumbled backward, your breathing coming in short, panicked gasps. You didn’t even realize someone was pulling you out of the house until the cool night air hit your skin.
“Hey, hey,” that same guy's voice said, low and urgent. You blinked through the haze of your tears, and your heart twisted painfully when you saw who it was.
Bucky.
He had his hands on your arms, guiding you away from the crowd, his eyes filled with concern. “Come on, you’re okay,” he murmured, leading you to a quieter spot on the porch. “Breathe, alright? Just breathe.”
You tried to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your vision still blurry from the tears.
“Look at me,” Bucky said softly, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
His words, his presence, grounded you just enough to pull in a shaky breath. “It’s gone, Buck,” you finally managed, your voice breaking. “The locket… my mom’s locket. It’s gone.”
Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he glanced back toward the house. “Okay,” he said, his voice calm but determined. “We’re gonna find it.”
You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “There’s too many people. It’s probably already stepped on or—or lost for good.”
“Hey,” Bucky said firmly, his hands tightening slightly on your arms. “We’ll find it. I promise.”
You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was unwavering determination. His eyes softened, and he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
“Wait here,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m going back in.”
“No, Buck—”
“I’ll find it,” he interrupted, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “Just stay here.”
Before you could protest, he turned and disappeared back into the house, leaving you alone on the porch, the night air chilling your skin. You sank onto the steps, your hands trembling as you clutched at your knees, praying silently that he was right.
The minutes felt like hours as you sat on the porch, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every time the door opened, you looked up, hoping to see Bucky stepping out with your locket in hand. But each time, it was just another person stumbling out into the night, oblivious to your panic.
Finally, the door opened again, and Bucky emerged. His expression was serious, his steps purposeful, but his hands were empty.
Your heart sank, the last bit of hope slipping away. He walked over and crouched in front of you, his eyes meeting yours with a steady calm.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice firm but laced with regret. “I checked everywhere I could. Asked everyone. It’s just… not there.”
You nodded slowly, your throat tightening as you tried to process his words. The locket—your mother’s locket—was gone. A family heirloom, passed down through generations, lost in the chaos of a party. You tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath.
“It’s gone,” you finally whispered, the words feeling heavy and final.
Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding you. “I know how much it meant to you,” he said, his voice steady. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t find it tonight. But we’ll figure something out. I’m not giving up.”
You shook your head, blinking back the tears that blurred your vision. “It was the only thing I had left of her,” you said, your voice breaking. “And now it’s just… gone.”
Bucky’s fingers gently squeezed your knee. “I get it,” he said quietly. “It’s not just a thing. It’s her.”
You nodded, wiping at your cheeks, but the tears kept coming. “It feels like I let her down,” you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “I should’ve been more careful.”
Bucky shifted, sitting beside you on the step. His shoulder brushed yours, and he looked out at the street, his voice calm and certain. “Hey, your okay, its gonna be okay”
You let out a shaky breath, trying to absorb his words. “How can you say that? Its gone,” .
“I know,” he said, his tone understanding. “But your mom wouldn’t want you to carry that weight. That locket—it was important, sure, but it doesn’t change the connection you had with her. You’ve got all those memories, all those stories. She’s still with you.”
His words settled over you, comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. You leaned into his shoulder, letting out a quiet sigh. “Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice still thick with emotion. “For always being there.”
His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Always,” he said simply.
For a while, you just sat there, the distant hum of the party fading into the background. The ache of losing the locket still lingered, but Bucky’s steady presence eased it, bit by bit. He didn’t try to fix everything, didn’t offer hollow reassurances. He just stayed—solid, dependable, exactly what you needed.
You broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “What about that girl…?”
Bucky didn’t let you finish. “Forget about her,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have my best girl right here” his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something unspoken between you, something heavy and meaningful.
Eventually, you sat up, brushing the last of the tears from your cheeks. You gave him a small, wry smile. “Guess I owe you one,” you said quietly.
Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he added, “Except maybe a rematch at beer pong.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound a little shaky but genuine. “Deal,” you said, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter.
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Now
Sam takes a deep breath as he reaches the door to your shared apartment, bracing himself. He isn’t entirely sure what he’s walking into, but he knows Bucky isn’t handling things well. He knocks firmly and waits, listening for any movement inside.
After a long pause, the door creaks open. Bucky stands there, looking like absolute hell. His hair’s a mess, his eyes bloodshot, and he’s still in yesterday’s clothes, rumpled and wrinkled.
“Sam?” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“Yeah, man,” Sam says, leaning against the doorframe. “I came to check on you. Can I come in?”
Bucky steps aside, muttering, “Yeah… sure. Guess you uh probably know everything already.”
Sam walks in, his eyes immediately catching the shattered lamp on the floor, pieces scattered across the living room. “I know her side, but there's two sides to every coin” The air feels heavy, tense. He turns to Bucky, his voice steady. “She’s at Steve and my place. She’s safe if you're wondering.”
Bucky winces, looking away as his shoulders slump. “Good… that’s good.” He lets out a bitter chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Guess you’re here to tell me what a screw-up I am, huh?”
Sam shakes his head, exasperated. “Bucky, I’m not here to kick you when you’re down. I’m here because we’re friends. And friends don’t abandon each other, even when one of them is making dumbass choices.”
Bucky scoffs, dropping onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Yeah, well… I deserve it.”
Sam takes the chair across from him, studying Bucky’s hunched figure. “You look like hell, man. Want to tell me what happened, your version?”
Bucky hesitates, his voice low and broken. “I don’t know. She was just standing there, looking at me like… like she was just disgusted at being in my presence ...and it hurt, i said sorry for the bar comment, but then we started to hash things out, I got so damn scared. So I did the only thing I know how to do—I pushed her away. Told her to leave.”
Sam raises an eyebrow, his tone sharp. “So you let her walk out? Alone? At night?”
Bucky’s face twists with guilt, and he nods. “Yeah, I know, i went after her but she was gone, that's no excuse i know, i put her in danger Sam, i can't believe it….And now she probably hates me.” He chuckles bitterly. “Hell, maybe she should, i do.”
“Don’t give me that self-pity crap,” Sam snaps. “She’s hurt, sure. But you know damn well she doesn’t hate you.”
Bucky exhales shakily. “Maybe she should. All I ever do is screw things up. I push her away because… because I’m too scared to admit how I feel. And now? I don’t even know if I can fix it.”
Sam leans forward, his voice firm. “You’ve got two choices, Buck. Sit here and wallow, or get off your ass and do something about it.”
Bucky finally meets his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “What do I even say?”
Sam nods toward the shattered lamp. “Start by picking up the pieces. Then tell her the truth.”
Bucky swallows hard. “What if… what if it’s too late?”
Sam’s voice softens. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take, you cant just throw away the friendship you two have, i dont even know my friends from kindergarten, i couldnt tell you the slightest thing about em now….but you’ll never know unless you try.”
Bucky hesitates, then leans back, his gaze distant. “I’ve tried, Sam. More times than I can count.”
Sam frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Bucky’s voice grows quieter, tinged with frustration. “I’ve been trying to tell her for years—little things here and there. Dropping hints, pushing the boundaries, trying to get her to see me the way I see her. But every damn time, she pulls back, like she’s scared of what’s on the other side of those walls she’s built.”
Sam watches him, his expression thoughtful. “And you think she doesn’t feel the same?”
Bucky lets out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. But how the hell am I supposed to keep putting myself out there when she won’t meet me halfway? Why does it always have to be me to make the first move? Why can’t she give me a sign? Something, anything that lets me know I’m not imagining this?” Bucky’s voice cracks, and he rakes a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling out. “It’s like every time I try to get closer, she pulls back. And then I’m stuck wondering if I’m just some idiot chasing after something that was never there.”
Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re scared, she’s scared—it’s a mess, man. But sitting here, letting the fear eat away at you, isn’t gonna solve anything. You want her to meet you halfway? Maybe she’s been waiting for you to show her it’s safe to.”
Bucky shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “I’ve shown her, Sam. Hell, I’ve been there for her through everything. I’ve tried to coax her out of those walls, but every time I think I’m making progress, she shuts me down. And now? Now she’s out there, going on dates with other guys. What am I supposed to think?”
Sam tilts his head, his gaze steady. “You ever think maybe she’s just as scared as you are? That she’s waiting for you to stop hinting and just say it outright?”
Bucky’s fists clench, his frustration boiling over. “Why does it have to be me? Why can’t she take the damn risk for once? I’m not the only one in this.”
Sam exhales, leaning back. “You’re right, it’s a two-way street. But you’ve got to ask yourself—if she’s scared, just like you, who’s gonna be brave enough to break the cycle?”
Bucky stands, pacing the room. His voice drops, low and pained. “What if I put everything out there, and she doesn’t feel the same? I don’t think I could handle that.”
Sam’s gaze follows him, his tone firm but empathetic. “Or what if she’s been feeling the same this whole time, but she’s been too scared to lose you? What if she’s been waiting for you to say what she can’t?”
Bucky stops, his hands on his hips, his head bowed. “I can’t lose her, Sam. Not as a friend, not as… whatever this is. She’s everything. And if I’m wrong—if I tell her how I feel and she walks away—I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Sam stands, crossing the room to face Bucky. “Buck, you’re already losing her by doing nothing. This limbo you’re both stuck in? It’s tearing you apart. You’ve got to take the leap, man. Because if you don’t, you’ll never forgive yourself.”
Bucky swallows hard, his eyes clouded with doubt. “And if I crash and burn?”
Sam gives him a small, encouraging smile. “Then you’ll get back up. And you’ll know you tried. But if you don’t take that chance, you’ll always wonder what could’ve been.”
Bucky lets out a shaky breath, his hands still clenched at his sides. “I’ve never been good at this—at saying what I feel. And now, with everything so screwed up…”
“Then stop overthinking it,” Sam says. “Tell her the truth. Not hints, not half-measures. The whole thing.”
Bucky looks at him, his expression caught between fear and hope. “What if she’s already made up her mind? What if she’s moving on?”
Sam shakes his head. “You don’t know that. And you won’t unless you ask. But hiding behind ‘what ifs’ isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”
Bucky stares at the shattered lamp, his mind racing. Finally, he lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Alright,” he says quietly. “I’ll talk to her. But if this blows up in my face, you’re buying me drinks for the next decade.”
Sam smirks, clapping him on the shoulder. “Deal. Now get yourself together, man. You’ve got work to do.”
Bucky nods, though the weight of what lies ahead presses heavily on him. As Sam heads for the door, he glances back. “Just remember, Buck—she’s not the only one with walls. You’ve got a few of your own.”
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Wanda clapped her hands together, her tone light. “Okay, enough brooding. How about some brunch? I’m starving.”
Natasha perked up at that, crossing her arms. “I could go for some pancakes. What about the farmers market?”
You sighed, your head falling back against the couch. “I’m down for food, but we can’t go to the farmers market.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow, her tone edging toward irritation. “Why not?”
“Because we can’t go there without Bucky,” you said simply, your voice flat but firm.
Natasha groaned, throwing her hands up. “God, why does everything have to come back to Bucky? He’s not exactly the Farmers Market King. We can survive one trip without him.”
You sat up, your eyes flashing. “Stop it, Nat. Just stop. Look, we’ve all messed up before. Bucky’s not some random guy who screwed up—he’s Bucky, its him. He’s been there for me through everything. We can’t just hate on him because we got in a fight.”
Natasha scoffed, her voice sharp. “I can hate on him just fine. He’s an asshole, and I’m tired of watching him drag you through this endless cycle of misery.”
Your hands clenched at your sides as you stood up, your voice snapping like a whip. “And I’m tired of you acting like it’s so black and white! He’s not perfect, but none of us are. You think I haven’t made mistakes? You think I haven’t hurt him too?”
Natasha stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “You’re always defending him! No matter what he does, you jump in to shield him, like he’s some wounded puppy. When are you gonna wake up and realize he’s not worth it?”
“He’s not worth it?” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get it, Nat. He’s not just some guy who broke my heart. He’s my best friend! You don’t throw someone like that away because they messed up once, or twice, or even a hundred times. He’s Bucky, for god’s sake!”
The room went silent, the weight of your words hanging between you. Natasha stared at you, her jaw tightening before she shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Fine,” she said coldly. “Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart again.”
With that, you turned on your heel and stormed off into Steve’s room. Natasha grabbed her bag as she headed for the door. Before she left, she glanced at Wanda and Steve, her voice sharp. “All I do is try to help, but if she wants to keep sticking up for his dumb ass, that’s on her, leave me out of it next time.”
The door slammed behind her, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.
Wanda and Steve exchanged glances, both looking a little shell-shocked. Finally, Wanda sighed, brushing her hair back. “I’ll go after Nat,” she said quietly. She turned to Steve, her brow raised. “You got her?”
Steve nodded, giving Wanda a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’ve got her.”
Once Wanda left, Steve turned to. Steve hesitated for a moment before following. He knocked gently on the door. “Hey… you okay?”
There was no answer at first, just the sound of you pacing. Finally, your voice came through, quieter but still tense. “I’m fine, Steve. Just… need a minute.”
Steve leaned against the doorframe, his voice soft. “Take all the time you need. I’m here, I’ll always be right here…”
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infamous-if · 1 year ago
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Happy 1 year anniversary to this blog!
It was yesterday...though I do find it fitting that I've been focused on writing so much that I forgot lmao
When I first had the idea for Infamous, I didn't work on it right away. The concept was cool, yeah, but was it enough for interactive fiction? A medium I never even tried before?
I let it marinate in my head for a while wondering if it would be a good story or not. I listened to a lot of music, made a lot of idea boards and outlined routes but told myself I wasn't actually writing it. Just playing in a new literary sandbox with no strings! I was very close to not publishing my idea because it felt like it wasn't a story that I could handle. And it was daunting. I've published stories before, but they were completed novels that I could just forget about it and move on from once I was done. This was a commitment! I kept asking myself if I was even a good enough writer for the plans I had haha
But it didn't stop bothering me and I was getting irritable over my own brain creating this whole world without my permission. So I posted the intro post on a whim just to see what would happen! Turns out, I'm really happy I did!
One year later and there's been a whole community of people who have enriched the story and elevated it to a place that I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own. The amazing fanfics, the head canons, fan art and the suggestions, it's been really nice to work on this with the support and encouragement I've gotten. I think the best parts of the story so far have come from the collective, not me, and knowing that there are people who watched me serve my ideas on a platter like "here. take it pls." and accepted it is really nice. I'm grateful :)
thank you guys for reading the story and being kind to me and my ideas and having so many discussions over these characters that were once just in my mind, alone with me to tend to them. and to the if authors who have been here much longer, thank you for welcoming me with open arms. thank you to the group of if authors in particular who took me under their wing and gave me advice on how to handle things and how to move forward. you didn't have to come into my dm's and give me guidance or help me, but you did anyway and im eternally grateful!
I'm excited for 2024 to be the year that we really dive into the story. I still can't believe we're only 2 chapters in. it feels much longer, doesn't it? lololol
thanks!! <3
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tofulikesmala · 1 year ago
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Genshin cuddle headcannons
Genre: fluff
who?: Neuvillette, thoma, xiao, scaramouche, tighnari, itto, freminet,
Neuvillette
ah yes, hard on the outside but soft on the inside
He's the very clingy type, even if he tries his best to remain formal, he can't help but be attached to you
Would bury his face in your neck
You would usually have to initiate it first,
He would be the big spoon, but he's okay with small spoon too!
Being the big spoon, he could feel you by your side, making sure your safe
If he were the small spoon, this man would be blushing like mad, trust me
Thoma
Mmmm yes thoma >33
I feel he would be the more romantic type when it comes to cuddling, embracing every part of your body, tucking your hair behind your ears, ykyk
Well, depends on your personality, who initiates first might differ?but i feel thoma would be the kind of person to request to cuddle shamelessly
He's fine with both big spoon and small spoon
If he's the big spoon, you'll definitely be receiving headpats!!!!!
If he's the small spoon, he'd lie on your tummy, no matter the size
Xiao
Bold of you to assume this man gets sleep
But......if its you...who is he to decline?
"The adepti don't rest....let alone sleep. How absurd of you to think I would cuddle."
Nah man your going to find this man clinging onto you like there's no tomorrow at 3 fucking am in the morning
Good luck, because he's not gonna let you go
Need to go to the toilet? Nah you have a bladder for a reason
He's def big spoon, only on rare occasions you wake up, to you hugging his body
He'd definitely be embarrassed 100%
Scaramouche
Well, he'd be reluctant at first, for sure, but he will give in. eventually
Well, at least he won't appear in your room at 3 fucking am in the morning like somebody
He's def big spoon, he just can't afford to hurt his pride lololol
Would 100% flick your forehead for absolutely no reason
He's also the type to NOT.LET.YOU.GO.
“scara babe i need to go to the toilet :("
Naur he would just groan and fall back asleep
Man's grip on you is STRONG. You won't be able to wiggle out lol
Tighnari
DEUWYFGUYWEGUQFE I WANNA HUG HIS TAIL SO BAD
Would def allow you to hug his tail
His face would be so red as you gently stroke it
You could wake up in the middle of the night and see his ears twitching
He won't have such a strong grip on you, but it won't be a loose one either
If you wiggle out and go to the toilet, and he finds out he will be sad :(
His ears would go down
Once your back, expect to receive lots of forehead kissessss
Both big and small spoon is fine with him
Itto
Good luck with this guy💀
Better say your prayers to your family and friends, because this guy IS GONNA PLANT HIS WHOLE FUCKING ASS ON YOU
he's laying on top of you, crushing you with his weight
nah im kidding, he knows he's on the heavier side, so he'd adjust back later
Oh but don't be surprised if you found his foot shoved up your face
But in the non messy times, he'd definitely hold you tight, making sure you with him
Another one to shamelessly demand for cuddles
Freminet
He tries to be a big spoon, but you end up pampering him instead XD
Its 90% of the time you initiate it first
Bro would be the definition of blushing mess
He would rest his head against your chest
If your flat (like me) he would listen to the soft thumps of your heartbeat. It comforts him in a way
If you have bigger chests, he'd be so embarrassed, be he likes to use it as a pillow, he finds it very comfortable, as long as your okay with it of course!
He would hug you tight, but would start apologising once he realises :(
Notes: MY SECOND FIC HHAHAHAHA LOVE YALL
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trippinsorrows · 7 months ago
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with me + part nine
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authors note: ya'll had me rolling in the comments on the last update. calling this man big dick joe. lololol. i hope this one is okay. i'm not very good at writing those scenes, but i tried!! angst is def more my bread and butter.
song inspo: "with me" by destiny's child
status: in progress // masterlist
warnings: language, suggestive themes, smut
words: 8k
taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns
“You look so damn good. If you don’t get ate out tonight, come back home early, and I’ll do the honors.”
It’s a miracle that you’re able to keep a straight face as Alexis does the finishing touches on your makeup. “Well, that’s not gonna happen, period, because this is just a date.”
Alexis pauses and gives you a look. “I know you’ve been out of the game for a while, but you do know what typically happens on dates, right?”
Rolling your eyes, you retort, “Lex, not everyone fucks on the first date.”
She sucks her teeth and swaps out the eyeliner for mascara. “Bitch, this is not a first date. He’s painted your walls too many times for you to say anything between ya’ll is a first.” 
As much as you hate it, she has somewhat of a point. You and Joe have checked so many boxes already that it does seem kinda silly to call this a first date. But, in many ways, it is. He’s never before asked you to go anywhere outside of the couple of times he invited you to his show, since you were already in town because he'd flown you out. 
But never anything beyond that. 
So, in that way, it is a first date.
And maybe that’s why you’re nervous. It’s a first too. Not a lot of things make you nervous. Even when you cheered, there was some level of anxiety before competitions, but even that was minimal compared to some of the panicked expressions you’d see on your teammates faces. When it comes to Callie, there are definitely a lot of things that make you nervous, but that’s just regular parental anxiety. 
So this butterflies shit is unfamiliar and annoying. 
It’s also just Joe. You know him, you know him better than almost anyone else in your life outside of Mariah and Callie. 
Thinking of Mariah, you grab your phone and hit the side button to see if you have any notifications. Instead, you’re just met with Callie’s smiling face.
Alexis sees this and comments casually, “still nothing?”
You don’t respond, because it’s not necessary. She already knows the answer. 
“Well, whatever she’s got going on, let her deal with it the way she wants,” Alexis advises, grabbing the powder brush to brush off some excessive powder on your cheeks. “You’ve got too many good things going on in your life for you to be stressed out over her fake ass.” 
She’s not entirely wrong. There’s definitely not a shortage of topics you still need to sort through, many of which should take precedent over you wondering what the hell is going on with your best friend since kindergarten. Still, it’s hard for you not to worry about her and feel confused about what’s shifted between the two of you.
You haven’t heard from her since you text her when Callie was in the hospital, and she replied back that she was praying for you and Callie and asked if you wanted her to come to the hospital. You thanked her but let her know that Joe was with you, so you were okay.
You haven’t heard from her since then. 
It’s not that difficult to put two and two together. There’s something about Joe that makes Mariah stay away and keep her distance. You just can’t figure out why.
“Okay, enough of your overthinking. Time to see my masterpiece.” She gloats and claps her hand, removing the towel she’d put around your chest area to prevent anything from spilling on your outfit. Alexis sighs, “you seriously look amazing, Y/N.”
Standing and stretching your back, you walk over to the full body mirror against the opposite wall of your bedroom. “Oh….”
The last time you actually dressed up was at the town’s annual Christmas party two years back. You’d always gone growing up and wanted Callie to experience it for herself, even though Callie ended up utterly disinterested, hence that being your last appearance. It was hard to justify dragging her to something she was too young to enjoy and even understand. 
So, seeing yourself done up like this is a shock. Alexis absolutely slayed your makeup, perfect wingliner and all. The white, ruched, off shoulder dress is form-fitting, hugging every curve you’ve had since a teenager that's only improved since having Callie. It’s a beautiful contrast against your melanin. You’ve always thought white on black women looked so classy. 
Your curls are styled and pinned into an almost pineapple atop your head. The jewelry is simple and basic: necklace and hoops. No bracelet considering the dress is long-sleeved.
All of this creates the absolutely stunning reflection staring back at you. It brings a smile to your face. You’d forgotten how nice it feels to actually get done up.
Alexis appears in the mirror and rests her chin on your shoulder, smiling broadly. “Told you. Boss bitch.”
Matching her smile, you turn to hug her. You really couldn’t have done this without her, even her offering to take Callie for the night as it was a nighttime date, and you doubted you’d be home before bedtime. “Thank you.” 
“You’re my best friend. You never have to thank me.” She wiggles her brow. “Just give me a rundown of the pounding that’s bound to commence tonight. A video will do as well.”
Your mouth drops open. “Alexis, you—”
“Mommy! I need you.”
You’ve never in your life felt so grateful to be needed by anyone. Maneuvering through the avalanche of clothes that make up most of your bedroom right now, the result of the two of you trying to figure out what the hell you were going to wear, you’re more than happy to saunter over to Callie’s playroom to see what she needs.
“What’s up, sis?”
You see she’s sitting at her little table, surrounded by crayons, markers, colored paper, and other art supplies. Her eyes fall on you with glee as she gasps loudly.
“Mommy, you look so pretty!”
There’s something about a heartfelt compliment from your child that provides such a level of joy.  
“Thank you, baby.” Moving closer to the table, you sit down on the chair opposite her, ignoring how goddamn uncomfortable it is. “What you got for me?”
She shuffles through a couple of pages and lifts one to show you. “Do you think Joe will like this?”
Your eyes study the colorful drawing she’s created against bright yellow—her favorite color—construction paper. It’s the average sun in the corner, green grass, and blue clouds drawing one would expect from a young child, but that’s not what immediately catches your attention. What draws your attention is the fact that there are two people she’s drawn, a heart between the two of them. 
Her and Joe.
Eyes watering, you do your best not to cry. You’re pretty sure everything on your face is waterproof, but you’re not trying to find out right now. Not when Joe should be arriving at your place any minute. “He’s gonna love it, Callie.”
Her face lights up with excitement at your approval. “Yay!” Taking it from you and tucking it underneath some other papers, she offers you another one. “I made this one too!”
You definitely can’t hold back the tears this time around. It’s the same backdrop, outside scenery but with a big house drawn behind the three of you: Callie, Joe, and yourself. With a heart over everyone’s head.
“Callie…..”
Callie, being young, sees your tears and automatically mistakens them for something else. Smile dropping and frown appearing, she moves up from the table and comes to hug you. “Don’t cry, mommy. I can make a new one!”
Wiping at your eyes, you shake your head, accepting her hug. “No, baby. Mommy’s crying because she’s happy, because she loves it.”
Instantly, her smile is back. “Really?”
“It’s beautiful. Is this one for your d—Joe too?”
Christmas can’t come soon enough, because this is at least the third time you’ve almost unintentionally given away Joe’s true identity. And that’s something you swore to him and yourself you’d allow him to reveal to Callie. It’s so hard though when moments like this occur, moments where you just want her to know the man she already loves is the same man who helped bring her into this world. 
She surprises you by shaking her head no. “I wanna put it in my room.” 
Sniffling, you nod, agreeing. “I think that’s a great idea.” 
Callie takes your hand and brings you into her room, the two of you taking a few minutes to decide where her photo should go. Eventually, she decides on right above her bed and you post it up using a thumbtack. 
Alexis walks into the bedroom to see what’s happening and gasps when she sees Callie’s drawing. “Callie, did you draw that? Sweetie, it’s so amazing!”
The compliment makes Callie smile harder as she says, “thank you!”
“We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, kiddo.”
Her eyes light up, premature excitement brewing. “Can we watch Disney movies?”
“Not only can we watch Disney movies, but we can dance and sing with Disney movies.”
Oh Lord. You have a feeling Callie won’t be in bed by 7:30pm, but it’s not worth pushing back on. You’re just grateful she’s agreed to stay around in town long enough for your date to stay with Callie. You know you could always ask your mom, but she’s already helped out so much in the past couple weeks, you figured she could use a break. 
“Yay!” 
You and Alexis work to clean up the disaster that is your room as Callie busies herself in her playroom. Nearly finished, Alexis suddenly shares, “oh, I got something for you!”
Closing up your drawer, you place your hands on your hips. “Lex, you’ve already done so much for—-” you’re silenced by the box she’s suddenly reaching your way. “---me.” A headache is coming, migraine even. “Alexis, seriously?”
“What? It’s obvious ya’ll don’t use condoms.” Moving over to the side of your bed, she slides open the drawer of your nightstand and secures the box of Plan B.
“How many times do I have to say—”
Your 937589th time defending yourself that day is interrupted by the doorbell followed by Callie excitedly yelling “Joe!”
“I’ll get it,” Alexis offers, rushing over to you to give some quick, last minute advice. “You got this okay? It’s Joe. You know him like you know the back of your hand. You’re just hanging out with a muscular, 6’3 wrestler who also happens to be your baby daddy. No pressure.”
“Lex, sometimes you really do suck.”
“No, that’s going to be you tonight.” She laughs, ducking as you toss a decorative pillow in her direction. 
Blowing through your mouth, you attempt a mini pep talk, digging deep for the shitload you had and utilized as cheer captain what feels like so long ago.
“It’s just a date. Just a date.”
That’s the mantra, the ideal that you have to live by, have to pocket and keep with you at all times. 
Just a date. 
Grabbing your purse off the dresser, you slide on your heels and head out to the living room. What you’re met with is both expected and unexpected. Joe is holding Callie who’s clearly catching him up on everything he’s missed since he was last in town, minute by minute play, of course. But, Alexis is in the kitchen surrounded by three separate bouquets of flowers, one of red roses, one yellow, and one pink. 
Joe’s gaze is on you as soon as you enter the space, but your attention is focused on the breathtaking roses. 
“Have I told you he’s my top choice for you?” Alexis asks, explaining and pointing. ���The pinks are for me, yellows are for Cal Gal, and the reds are, obviously for you.” A warm smile grows on your face. He’s so damn thoughtful. 
Walking over to him, you cross your arms. “Red roses are my favorites.”
“I remember.” Of course he does. He sweeps his eyes over you, slowly, meticulously. “You look beautiful.”
Bashful would never ever be a word you’d use to describe yourself, but it’s definitely how you feel in this moment. “Thank you.”
He looks good too, but that’s not surprising. Joe always looks good, even in his otherwise basic outfit of dark jeans, long sleeved black fitted shirt, and simple gold chain around his neck. The man could wear an orange jumpsuit, and you’d still want to fuck him silly. 
“Okay, Cal Gal, we better let them get going, so you and I can head out too.”
Alexis' words catch Joe’s attention, as he asks, protectively, “where are you taking her?”
Callie answers, “Auntie Lex and I are gonna have a sleepover at the hotel!”
Joe looks at you, quizzically. “I told her they can just stay here.”
“Just in case,” she winks at Joe and reminds you, quietly. “Nightstand, babes.”
Heading out is as expected. Callie asks once again if she can come with you guys, and Joe promises that the three of you will do something together at a later time. You remind Alexis to not allow Callie to pig out on junk food and go to bed on time, or at least, a decent time. 
Not that it means much. You know she’s gonna do what she wants, because that’s who Alexis is. 
That doesn’t bother you as much as Joe not telling you shit about this date other than that you probably won’t get back until late. Which isn’t much of anything. 
“What about a—”
He glances at you only for a second, then focuses back on the road. “The answer gon’ be the same as it was the last ten times you asked.”
Glaring at him, you cross your arms. “You know I hate surprises.”
“I’m aware.”
“But, you’re surprising me anyway?”
“Sure am.” Sucking your teeth and looking out the window, you cross your arms, turning your body away from him. “Watch the attitude, sweetheart, or I’ll fix it for you at the end of the night.”
His words shouldn’t make your thighs clench together.
“Whatever.” Pulling out your phone, you start to connect it to the car’s bluetooth. 
“What are you doing?”
“I’m not gonna sit here in silence, but I have nothing to say to you, so we need some music.” You’re certain he’s rolling his eyes but doesn’t say anything. Hardheaded ass. He definitely does speak up though when the iconic opening guitar from Smells Like Teen Spirit fills the SUV. 
“Oh my god.”
“I don’t want to hear it. You leave me and my musical tastes alone.”
It seems like a rite of passage for every preteen or teenager to have some type of emo phase where they blast and rock out to Paramore like it’s a religious experience. Emphasis on phase. You never really grew out of yours. A love for rock music was something that stemmed from your love of paramore and morphed to the overall genre in general over the years. It was also something you and Alexis had in common, attending Warped your junior year of college. Joe always roasted you for this, because it was so unexpected.
You just liked your Breaking Benjamin just as much as you liked your Megan Thee Stallion.
“You know Callie likes it too,” you inform. One of your personal goals in life is to pass on your eclectic taste in music to your mini me. The appropriate music, of course. You never listen to anything provocative around her, even the clean versions. 
“You got her listening to this shit, too?”
Challenging him, you counter. “Would you rather her listen to Pound Town?” He shakes his head, running his hand over his beard. “That’s what I thought.”
Joe doesn’t ask you anything else, just lets you rock out to your music to help you avoid asking him the same damn question over and over again. But, you definitely do have questions that you’re absolutely asking when you see where he’s taken you. “Why the hell are we at the airport?” The bastard doesn’t say anything, and you start to repeat your question when he pulls around and you see it. 
“Joe, is that a fucking jet? You have a jet? We’re getting on a jet?” The questions keep rolling out as you find yourself unable to rip your eyes away from it. You’ve been on a plane before, but never a private jet. 
“No, we’re going to stare at it.” 
Your mind is a million and one places. Just what does this man have planned?
Jumping, you realize he’s not only parked, exited the vehicle, but is standing at your side of the car, door open. “Come on.” 
Angrily unbuckling your seatbelt, you jump out the car and continue to press him for answers. 
“Don’t get smart with me when I’m panicking. An actual jet? Where the hell are you taking us? Siberia?” He doesn’t say anything, just moves closer to you and places a hand behind your neck. 
“Do you trust me?”
You’re not sure if you’ve ever actually asked yourself that question, but interestingly enough, the answer is a no-brainer. 
“Of course.”
“Then shut up and come on.”
________
“We could have just gone to a local restaurant.”
Joe finally caved a bit and informed you that he was taking you to a restaurant out of town but within the same state. That was it. But, it was something, and it made you feel a little bit better about sitting here with him on a jet without a clue as to what’s going on.
“Why? So our waiter can be your ex-fiance?” You roll your eyes and decide against telling him the best restaurant in town is owned by your high school coach’s brother. “I’m tired of sharing you.” His strong arms are around you as he nuzzles his face into your neck. Because of course you’re sitting on his lap, the only “seat” he allowed you to use. “Want you to myself….”
Hands on his forearms, your eyes shut as you try to allow yourself to enjoy this. To enjoy him. He’s obviously gone to great lengths to make tonight special for the both of you, so the least you can do is be appreciative and try to enjoy the ride. A small smile on your lip, you taunt, “Callie might have something else to say about that.”
Just the mention of his daughter brings a smile to Joe’s face and yours too. Seeing how much he loves her gives you such peace and satisfaction. “What does she want for Christmas, by the way?”
Scoffing, you answer, smartly, “well, considering you’ve already bought her half of Toys-r-Us inventory, I’m not sure if there’s anything left for her to want.”
He’s unconvinced. “There has to be something. What did you get her?”
“Just random stuff, dolls, more art supplies.” To be honest, you’ve been so busy with everything else that much of your Christmas shopping still hasn’t happened. A rarity since you’re usually meticulous with these things, needing to know what paycheck they’re going to come out of, really. “I mean, the big thing is obviously Disney. That’s on every list: Christmas, birthday, Easter, Chinese new year.”
“Disney world?” He clarifies.
Nodding, you explain, “yup, but of course, because she’s our kid and too smart for her own good, she learned about the different parts like animal kingdom, epcot, and now she wants to see them all.” You’ll never forget the day she came running into your room, jumping on your bed, screaming, “there’s more, mommy! Lots more!”
“I’ve tried to explain I have to save for that, especially since I would want to take my mom with me, but she’s so young, she doesn’t understand it's either Disney, or we have a place to live.” Truth be told, you’ve always wanted to go to Disney too. So did your grandma. And the plan was to go for your high school graduation. Obviously….that never happened.
Your grandma passed away before you all had the chance. 
“I’ll take her. I’ll take all of you.” 
Sitting up, your brows furrow as you clarify, “shit, no. Joe, I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to ask you—”
“I know you weren’t. You’re too stubborn for that.” He’s not wrong, his finger moving up and down your side as he continues. “She wants to go. I’m sure you do too and your mom. I can make it happen, so let me make it happen.”
You hear what he’s saying, you really do, but considering you’ve sat down and cranked out the numbers for what this would cost, just for one person, it makes you almost nauseous to think how much he’d have to fork up.
Joe’s exceptionally well at reading you, speaking again. “I’m gonna say something, and I know you’re gonna push back, because like I said,  you’re stubborn as hell, but I’m gonna say it anyway because that don’t change shit.”
You eye him, skeptically. “I’m already annoyed,”
“Money is something you never have to worry about, especially if it’s for Callie.” You open your mouth to protest, but he lifts his hand to silence you. “I’ve got you, and I’ve got her. Whether you want me to or not.”
It’s such a strange shift, traveling from this mindset where you are the sole financial provider for your child to having a partner who has more money than he knows what to do with and doesn’t mind spending it to make your child happy. To make you happy. 
“Let me do something for my daughter.”
He’s got you there, even if he’s done so much already. You’ve already denied him so much more. Why add to the list? “Okay.” There’s no support for an argument. Who are you to try to get in the way of a father fulfilling his daughter’s lifelong dream? Sure, you could probably make it happen eventually, but time waits for no one. And you can’t really fault Joe. He just wants to do something nice for her daughter. “But….but not Christmas. Her birthday, maybe?”
This seems to work for him as well as he nods in agreement, probably thinking of the benefit to having more time to arrange being away from work.
Joe does an excellent job distracting you for the rest of the ride, which ends up being relatively short, definitely not as long as you expected. Granted, nothing so far has been what you expected, especially when a driver picks you up from the airport and transports you to this top secret location.
Hand in his, Joe leads you inside the building that’s revealed to be a restaurant of some sort. Gracefully decorated and almost entirely empty. 
Touched, you ask in a soft voice, “you rented out a restaurant for us?” 
He glides his thumb over your knuckles and brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. “Not exactly.” 
“Joe, is that you?” 
A voice calls out, and he answers back with a yes.
Confused, you watch an older black woman with salt and pepper hair emerge from the back of the restaurant, wearing one of the friendliest smiles you’ve ever seen. You study her, wondering why she looks so familiar. 
“There you are,” she greets, clapping her hands on her apron. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”
“Sorry, we’re late,” he apologies and releases your hand to bend down and hug this woman. Separating, he looks at you, introducing, “Joyce, this is Y/N.” Taking your hand again, he explains, “baby, this is—”
“Joyce Green,” you finish for him. “Oh my goodness, my mom and I watch your show.” 
Joyce and Dennis Green.
Known as the culinary king and queen throughout your state. They have a chain of restaurants that stretch over the south, a successful cookware line, and television show that’s been atop the charts for years. Arguably, the most successful, African-American couple in this part of the culinary world. 
Suddenly a bit starstruck, you offer your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
She looks at you and waves off your offer. “Baby, I’m a hugger.” Laughing, you accept her warm hug as she pulls back and assesses you. “You just a pretty little thing, ain’t you?” She compliments, and you’ve never felt so validated in your life. There’s just something about compliments from older black women that heal the soul. Her eyes shift to Joe. “And you….my Lord, he took his time with this one.”
Biting your lip, you agree, “sure did.” 
Joe chuckles and says, “thank you for agreeing to this again.” 
“Of course. My grandbaby still talks about your make-a-wish visit. It’s our honor to have you here.” You say nothing but realize this is how he knows them, how he arranged for whatever this is. She claps her hands together and asks, “now what would you say is your level of experience with cooking?”
It’s directed to both of you, but you answer first, “I can cook a little bit.”
Joe looks at you, brow raised before telling Joyce. “That’s not what her mom or our daughter says.”
“Ya’ll have a baby?” Her eyes light up. “Could I see a picture? If you don’t mind, that is.” Joe shakes his head and pulls out his phone, unlocking the screen which reveals not only a picture of Callie, but you as well, the two of you smiling together. 
She gasps. “Oh, she’s beautiful.” She looks between the both of you. “Perfect combination, but she has your smile.”
“Thank you.” Anyone saying anything nice about your Callie always lands a genuine grin on your face. “It’s the dimples,” you add.
“Joyce, are you in there talking a hole in them people’s heads?” Another voice enters the room, and you see an older black man also wearing an apron around them. Dennis. This is Dennis.
Joyce sucks her teeth. “Oh hush, you old fool.” She beckons him over, and he shares a quick hug with Joe before her eyes rest on you. Joyce introduces, “this is his girlfriend. Ain’t she pretty?”
“Sure is,” Dennis agrees, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you, young lady.”
Your focus is partially on the conversation at hand but also on how she introduced you. 
Girlfriend. 
You’ve never once considered yourself that to Joe, even in being with him for three years. It always felt wrong and invalid. Because of his wife.
But, she’s out of the picture now.
What reason is there for there not to be a label between the two of you?
Shaking your head, you try to return to the present. 
This is ending up being so much more than just a date.
________
“How long have ya’ll been together?” 
You’re in the midst of mincing garlic when Joyce asks her question. 
This wasn’t just a dinner date. It was a private cooking lesson with thee Joyce and Dennis Green. Not many things made you giddy, but this was definitely one of them. 
Thinking on her question, you realize it’s something you’ve never thought about and thus have no idea how to answer. Because just how does one quantify your relationship? Can you even count the three years you were actually together when he was legally married to someone else? 
Joe, conversely, has no difficulty answering.
“Almost eight years.”
Joyce glances at your left hand. “How much time you need to make up your mind, young man?”
“Oh, Joyce, leave them kids alone,” Dennis chides, carefully chopping up the onions. “Let em’ do what they want.”
“I’m just saying, you already have a child together,” she continues, asking, “What’s stopping you from taking the next step?”
“Uhhh, we, we’ve had some ups and downs,” you answer, hoping the change in tone will indicate this is a sensitive subject.
“I see, well….” You can tell she’s trying to carefully choose her words, and you’re grateful for that thoughtfulness and respect. “All things considered, you seem to have found your way back to one another, so that has to mean something.”
Her words resonate deeply. She’s right. Yes, obviously Callie will always bound you to Joe in some sort of capacity, but countless people co–parent without being together. However, that doesn't seem to be the case with the two of you, something tethers you together. 
And it’s not just the child you share together.
The four of you work together to prepare your meal with Joyce and Dennis having to be extra patient with you, because Joe of all trades over there excels without the need of much help. It’s annoying how he’s just naturally good at so many things. 
At one point, Joyce gently whispers to you, “some people just don’t got it, baby, and you don’t. That’s okay.”
Of course, Joe hears this, and you have to stop yourself from flipping him off. Instead, you settle for mouthing asshole.
The entire process takes about an hour, and when the meals are finished, you’re surprised to find that Joyce and Dennis move to a separate room to eat. It’s not something that entirely bothers you though. You enjoy your alone time with Joe. And it allows you the space to briefly FaceTime Callie in the middle of your meal to tell her goodnight, an absolute must. 
Not even just for you anymore, but Joe too. 
She has to see and speak to the both of you before she can fall asleep.
You can’t wait for her to find out the truth. 
Stealing off Joe’s plate, you quickly realize that while your food came out fine, his is delicious. It’s why you decide to seat yourself on his lap instead of your chair so you’re not constantly reaching over the table. 
“You done messed up your food, and now you wanna come after mine?” Ignoring him, you bring a forkful to your mouth, moaning instantly. 
Covering your mouth as you finish chewing, you exclaim, “it’s so good.”
He chuckles, hand on the small of your back. “I see I’m the one who’s gonna have to do the cooking for us.”
“Well, according to you and everyone else, I can’t cook, so—”
“You can’t, but that’s okay. I hoped this would help, but you may be beyond help—” He laughs as you shove on his chest.
“You’re such an ass….” Gaze softening, you bring your hand to his face, gripping his beard. “Thank you for this. It’s incredibly sweet.”
And you mean that. Joe didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to do any of it. But, this is just who he is, a kind, sweet, thoughtful man. It’s what makes him such an amazing father. 
An amazing partner.
He kisses your palm. “You’re welcome….”
Once the food is finished, you two spend the rest of the time just talking, laughing, enjoying each other. You could never get tired of being around this man. His energy is so warm and welcoming. You’re starting to relate more and more with Callie’s difficulty every time he leaves. This night is too short, but you wonder if you could ever have enough time to be with him.
As the night draws to a close, you two reunite with Joyce and Dennis to thank them for a wonderful evening. However, it’s the closing remarks that really sit with you. When Dennis pulls back from his hug, he whispers to you, “young lady, I’ve lived a long life, so trust me when I tell you this.” You watch him, listening intently. “A man doesn’t look at a woman the way Joe looks at you unless he’s in love.” 
Your breath catches in the back of your throat. That’s….definitely not what you expected him to say. And Joyce is no different. She holds onto you a little longer in the hug, and you’re grateful. She reminds you so much of your grandmother. 
“A little piece of advice from an old lady?” It’s almost impossible to prepare for whatever is about to leave her mouth, your mind still trying to sit on Dennis' words. “You don’t lose love by sending it away” A beat. “All you’re doing is making it grow stronger.” 
________
The rides home are more quiet than the journey there, and that’s because you’re trying to balance this heavy battle between your head and your heart. 
Your mind is all over the place. You’ve felt so conflicted since opening the door for Joe for the first time in almost five years. And you don’t regret it, far from it. Callie’s father is in her life. She has that relationship, that love with him. 
That’s all you wanted, all you expected. 
You didn’t expect for your feelings for him to resurface or his for you to be as strong as they clearly are. 
It’s such a suffocating, overwhelming experience. 
And at the same time, everything you’ve ever wanted. 
He is everything you’ve ever wanted. 
Walking into your apartment, Joe locks the door behind the two of you, always wanting to make sure you’re straight before he leaves. As he always does. 
He brings his hands to your face, concerned, asking, “what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Your eyes close, hand to his chest. 
This is too hard, too painful, too difficult. 
You can’t do it anymore.
“Fuck it.”
In a matter of seconds, your lips are on his and his hands are all over your body. It’s explosive, the both of you battling for dominance, Joe’s tongue circling around yours. You moan into his mouth, and he hikes you up on his waist. 
"Are you sure?" He breathes against your mouth and you nod fervently.
Come what may, you'll deal with it then. You need this. Need him
Gaining your consent, he skillfully guides you to your bedroom only breaking the kiss when he places you on the floor in front of the bed. “Take off your clothes.” 
His tone is authoritative, demanding, but even if it wasn't, it's not like he needs to ask twice. You squeeze yourself out of your dress, tossing it to the side. As the top was padded and shoulders out, you didn't bother with a bra. And before you can hook your fingers around your underwear to discard them, Joe tosses you on the bed, hovering over you.
He lifts his shirt over his head, and you chew on your bottom lip. This man is too fine. His strength has always been so sexy to you. As a woman on the thicker side, you’ve always needed a man who could handle you in the sheets. And Joe was more than adept in that area. 
He stares at you like you're the most precious thing he's ever had the privilege to lay his eyes on. Your stomach flutters. No ones ever been able to make you feel things like Joe can.
Its such a welcomed experience, one you've missed deeply.
“God, you’re beautiful….” 
His big hands travel your body, but it’s when he bites down on the strap of your panties and glides them down your legs that your back arches off the bed. You're already so wet, dampness coating the inside of your thighs.
You need this man more than one needs air to breathe.
“Patience, baby.” His voice is soothing on a surface level but does little to abate the fire burning through your entire body, the throbbing in your center. “Don’t I always take care of you?” When you don’t give him an answer, too busy trying to settle yourself, his hand grips your thigh. Tight. “I asked you a question.”
Swallowing, you nod, answering, “y-yes, you do.” 
Pleased with your obedience, he goes to remove his pants, and your eyes go straight to his massive bulge. You wet your lips. The moonlight shining through the window creates a backdrop of his broad shoulders, silk hair down and free. Just how you like it. 
He’s so beautiful and yours. 
Only yours.
Your hand reaches for his abs, wanting to touch him, when he captures your wrist, bringing your fingers to his mouth, sucking slowly, teasingly. 
Groaning, your head tilted back, another spasm works its way through your core. You need this man, and you need him now.
Joe detects as such and hovers over you, one rough hand grasping your breast as he glosses his lips over your clavicle. Moaning, you lift your thigh against his hip, wanting, needing some type of friction. 
He begins lining kisses down your body, lips leaving a flaming trail of desire in its wake. “Spread your legs for me, baby. And keep 'em open.” He doesn’t have to ask twice. You heed to his command, opening yourself to him. He kisses the inside of your thighs, eyes alight with desire. “Before you come on my dick, gotta taste this pretty pussy.” 
Joe makes a sound, taking his finger and swirling it around your pussy. A sticky line of your cum drips from his fingers, and you nearly come right then and there watching him suck it off. 
“Fuck,” he groans, bringing both of your legs over his shoulders, hooking them behind your knees. “Forgot how sweet you are.”
His cool breath hitting your core is the first thing you feel followed by that deliciously talented tongue taking one long swipe up your cunt. Instantly, your back is arching off the bed. That’s how sensitive you are to him, how easily your entire existence becomes focused solely on him and the insane pleasure he provides you.
The tip of Joe’s tongue swirls around your swollen, sensitive bud as he uses his other two fingers to keep your folds open, available to and for him to do whatever he wants. He plays with you, a tactic you’ve noticed he gets off on, edging you in a sense.
“Stop playing with me,” you groan, even if this feels just as good as anything else. It’s not what you want, what you need. What you need is his mouth on you, not this toying shit.
Sucking his teeth, he blows on your clit, and you hiss. “You really gon tell me how to take care of my pussy?” There’s a trace of humor in his voice as he dips one finger inside of you, smiling at the way you grip at the sheets. “Naw, baby. I know what you need.” 
And that’s when he finally does away with the teasing, locking your legs on his shoulders with his hand and buries his face into your pussy. “Shit!” It’s what you wanted, most definitely what you needed, but not what you expected. 
Fuck. He’s too good at this. 
Joe alternates with expert strokes, sucking and flicking your pussy, with a yearning and longing that’s matched only by the rapture soaring through your body. 
He eats your pussy like he does all things in life, with passion and dedication.
“Joe.” Tears burn your eyes as he continues to eat at you, rarely breaking for air and never allowing your body time to recover. He’s back to back, bringing you to climax and going right back to eating you out.
You’d forgotten how much he loved this. It’s nearly impossible to recall how many times this man has had his face in between your legs, but you could most definitely count how many times he’d let you return the favor. Joe didn’t care much about receiving. He was a pleaser, through and through.
“Baby, please, I can’t—I—-“ and it’s a waste of time because every inch up the bed is met with his strong hands on your hips, tugging you closer. Even as you cum, hard, nearly convulsing off the mattress, he stays sucking your pussy, lapping every bit of it up as his tongue circles your sensitive bud.
You’re not sure when he finally comes up, just that it’s after at least two orgasms. Maybe three. Keeping count with Joe is always a waste of time, because it’s always going to be several.  Panting, eyes fluttering, you take in the sight of him. His beard is wet, glistening with the result of his expert work. “I love eating this pussy.” His finger swirls and plays around with the absolute drenched mess you’ve made. “but I need you to come on my dick now.”
There’s a bit of dissociation in the next few minutes. He’s tongue fucked all of your five senses out of you that it’s only when you realize he’s got you on your hands and knees, dick teasing your soaked entrance that you're aware of what's about to happen. 
“Wait.” Your breath is haggard, voice drained from only this man’s tongue. This. This is the shit he does to you. This is why it took so long for you to let him go all those years ago. It’s the same reason you don’t think you’ll ever be able to let him go. Not after this. “I need—you gotta let me adjust, Joe.”
Joe’s dick is thick, long, and curved. The best you’ve ever had, but it’s been years since you last had him, so he has to take it easy on you, allow you time to accommodate him.
“You can take this dick, baby,” he encourages, pushing down on the top of your back until your cheek is pressed into the pillow, back arched perfectly. “And you always will.”
His tip nudges your sticky, gushy opening, starting a slow entrance that has your hands fisting. Inch by inch, he enters you, jaw clenching at how tightly your cunt clenches him. 
It’s been too long since he’s been inside you.  
“Oh my god.” You’d forgotten this, forgotten the delicious stretch of him inside of you, forgotten how deep he could go, touching you, reaching you in all the areas no one else could. And you had tried. God, you tried. Had your hookups, but no one was checking Joe’s box when it came to length, girth, and skill. And that tongue. Fuck, Joe ate your pussy like you were his last supper every single time.
Never a miss.
He doesn’t need to ask if you’re good. Joe sees the way you back your ass onto him, eager for him to fuck you like only he knows how to.
And he obliges. 
He slams into you with a force that has you wanting to scream out bloody murder. He feels so damn good inside of you. He stretches you so good, and you take him just as well.
“You on the pill?” He suddenly asks, slowing the speed and force of his thrusts, watching and enjoying your moans as he cruelly teases you, halting at your entrance before gradually re-entering. He’s playing with you, and it’s both blissful and miserable. 
Whining, you manage to answer, “fuck—n—no.”
“Good.” You shout when he slams back into you with such force that you reach for the headboard, needing something to keep you leveled. “Gonna fill you up with my cum.”
“Joe….” His words register, but it’s hard to think straight with this man fucking you so good. Shit, you missed this. “We—” You’re cut off again when he reaches in front of you, hand ghosting over your pussy, index finger circling your clit. “We ca—”
“I’m not pulling out.” He groans above you, the way your shit grips him. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“You’re just big,” you counter and cry out when he slides out of you and slams at a different angle that has your big breast slapping against your chest. “Shit, Joe.”
“Can he fuck you how I can?” For a second, you’re confused cause who the fuck is he talking about? There’s only one person that exists in your world right now, and that’s the man blowing your back out. “Answer me,” he demands, bringing a hand down on your ass. 
You cry out, “no, baby.” Your eyes water. He’s so deep in you. “N–no one fucks me like you do.” 
“Exactly,” he continues to play with your clit as you work hard not to let your entire apartment building know you’re getting your entire insides rearranged. “Your moans are for me,” he slows down momentarily, no doubt enjoying the view of his thick dick sliding in and out of you, coated in your cream. “You scream out my name.” 
“Yes, baby,” you whimper. You and Joe have fucked plenty of times, but this is different. There’s a meaning in every word that leaves his mouth, an oath behind every declaration. You know that after tonight, there is no turning back. 
“You’re mine,” he growls, big hands moving to the small of your back, holding you down and against the bed as he rams into you, determined and focused. “You’ve always been mine.”
Tears burn your eyes when he suddenly yanks you up by your hair, pulling your body flush against his. His hair fans part of your face, mouth pressed against your temple. “I can take care of you. Take care of this pussy. You don’t need nobody but me.”
Reaching your hand behind to caress his scalp, you murmur, head laid back against him. “I don’t want anybody but you.”
There’s something about your words, so vulnerable, so sincere. With a gentleness that’s contrasted all of his fucking thus far, he pulls out of you and lays you on your back. A whimper leaves your mouth at the loss of him inside of you only for him to move his body over yours and lift your legs to his waist. He sinks into you again, and you moan together, his head resting in the crook of your neck as he finds a pace that pleases the both of you.
Ankles locking above his ass, you enjoy the different kind of depth this allows. People shit on missionary, but it’s one of your favorite positions with Joe. It’s a level of connectedness and togetherness that makes you feel so close to him. Like you two are one and the same. 
“You're so good for me,” he continues to talk you through it, tears streaming down your face as he repeatedly thrusts against your g-spot. “So fucking good around me, fucking made for me.”
His words send you over the edge.
Hands on his face, forcing him to meet your gaze, you encourage, gently, “come with me.” He looks at you, and you know. You just know that there's not much, if anything, you could ask that he wouldn't do for you.
His thrusts become more uncontrolled, erratic, and that’s how you know it’s coming, building up until there’s a blinding white light behind your eyes, toes curling and head rocking back against the pillow. Joe is not far behind, staying true to his promise as he empties inside of you every bit of his cum until there’s nothing left.
Joe doesn’t move from off you, doesn’t remove himself from inside of you, instead his body rests on top of yours. Panting, you bring your hands to his scalp, nails gently raking through his hair as he lays against your chest, muttering, “let me stay like this in you for a little bit.”
You don’t want him to move anyway, don’t want him to go anywhere. You never did, just followed what you felt and believed was right. Joyce’s wise words from earlier suddenly return to the forefront of your mind. 
“You don’t lose love by sending it away. All you're doing is making it grow stronger.” 
That’s never felt and rang more true than in this moment.
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jumexju · 3 months ago
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SUGGESTION
Pairing !! : Carl Grimes / Fem Reader
Fic Type !! : Headcanons, Fluff, Comfort
CW !! : canon typical mentions of violence/death, gn reader unless i specify otherwise, trauma/sa mentions
Summary !! : Just some fluff hcs about carl cuz i miss him
Notes !! : feeding carl fans after I finished the series like a year ago (bcs i rewatched it) (I love that white boy) enjoy lololol :3
✦ MASTERLIST
ᰔ if youre a melomaniac, carl would def be stuffing vinyls into his bag while out on runs just in case you happen to like the music (he gets happy when u get happy)
ᰔ carl n you def sit in his room just to listen to music (lowk parallel play)
ᰔ speaking of parellel play, hes a sucker for it !! you dont gotta be doing something together, even if the two of you are doing your own thing, he prefers having you near him while doing it
ex : he's reading comics while youre drawing/writing/etc
ᰔ carl likes hearing abt your hobbies and if you got the random knowledge flavor of the tism, he loves hearing the random knowledge you bestow upon him at the strangest times
ex : "carl" "yeah?" "did you know that playing instruments can make you smarter?" ".. how?" *proceeds to explain how the brain works*
ᰔ if you play an instrument, carl loves hearing you play songs you know or have even written yourself (hes your number one fan!!!!!
ᰔ if you wear glasses, you probably lost them/cant use them anymore since the prescription has to be updated. SO : carl would do his best to help you with that
ᰔ he'd read to you if your eyes get tired and describe sights to you if your eye sight's that bad (he finds you squinting adorable, but he wont tell you that)
ᰔ he rarely ever takes off his sheriffs hat but he finds it endearing when you take it off his head and put it on yourself (he thinks u look cute chat)
ᰔ if you love to read, carls bringing you books he found on runs and likes to have you read to him, esp if you have a good reading voice
ᰔ carl sometimes struggles with his self esteem which just got worse with the loss of his eye, because of this he feels real warm when you tell him he's pretty and cup his cheek like he's your treasure
ᰔ imo carl's a pretty shy guy so he doesn't really like any pda unless its like hand holding n stuff (love this guy fr)
ᰔ he does like cheek n mouth kisses but like not in public chat sorry but that boy has like a 6/10 rizz (teenage loser rizz fr)
ᰔ michonne teases him about his affections towards you and he gets all red n sheepish (i love you michonne), he also lowk rants about u to her
ᰔ he likes locking arms with u bcs it helps him walk straight n not bump into you (due to his eye screwing with his depth perception and coordination), but also cuz he likes feeling close to u
ᰔ he escapes to the forest with you to read or just explore outside sometimes
ᰔ basic but he lets you trim his hair if youre experienced in cutting hair (i.e : if you cut your own hair)
ᰔ carl sometimes doesnt like when people touch him bcs of what happened to him (s4 2nd to last episode) and he doesnt open up abt it, but if u ask him he'll tell u
ᰔ during those moments, he prefers to just lay his head on your shoulder and just be there with you thinking about nothing
ᰔ carl would listen to descendents so bad guys trust me
ᰔ stargazing with him is a dream
ᰔ if you have trauma from sa he makes an effort to understand you and tried to get you to be open and honest with him bcs it helps him better understand your situation
---- ok now for my alt readers ----
ᰔ if youre a metalhead, he finds it so cute when he sees you get all dark n immersed in the song youre listening to and if you sing it dramatically? he's filled with a tenderness for you
ᰔ if youre a music nerd he loves it when you tell him about the bands youre into and the lore !!
ex : "yeah Ozzy bit an actual bat once cuz he thought it was a prop, he had to go to the hospital after," "im sorry- he bit a bat??"
ᰔ yes its the zombie apocalypse but that doesnt mean you cant raid hot topic/thrift stores/abandoned shop for clothes slay !!! if you're goth, he wears your studded bracelets (they remind him of you)
ᰔ he also finds the music you listen to romantic and lowk endearing (joy division listeners wya???), probably makes you playlists in cassette form so you can both listen to them
ᰔ he'd let you paint his nails black sorry its the truth and he slays with it
ok im going to sleep
bye chat
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