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fetusgooseandjuice · 2 years ago

Note

hii, can u do a Shuri x reader where the reader is in college and is getting verbally and physically abused by her parents due to her bad academics performance but she won’t tell Shuri because she has a country to worry about until Shuri eventually finds out because the reader won’t answer calls or texts? <33

Her Girl

Pairings: Shuri Udaku x Fem!Reader

Summary: The request!

Word Count: 4,606

Warnings: Physical & Verbal Abuse

Second Person POV:

"Hi, my love. How was it?" Shuri asked as you approached her. She was leaning against her car, waiting to pick you up from your college class.

You had walked to campus this morning since it was close to where you lived with your father, and you planned to just walk back home after class.

But Shuri texted you asking if she could pick you up once you finished taking the midterm so she could take you out for lunch, and then maybe spend some more time with you.

It took some convincing before you agreed, because you knew your dad probably wanted you home after testing.

However, Shuri kept saying that you deserved a reward. Saying that the way you overworked yourself wasn't good for you. So you decided to go with her to make her happy.

"It was okay. Just nervous for the results." you responded, letting her peck your lips before she smiled down at you.

"Between all the time you spent studying on your own, and the hours you put into those flash cards you made me read to you, I know you did just fine. You knew everything like the back of your hand." she tried to comfort the nerves you had.

You've never actually done bad on a test, or failed one per se. With the amount of pressure put on you by your father, there's no way you'd allow yourself to fail. But in his book, if you didn't get an A, then you failed.

Nothing more, nothing less.

So you're hard on yourself when it comes to your academics to avoid his "consequences" of failing.

"Yeah, I guess so." you forced out a light chuckle to not only convince her, but also yourself. "I also got my grade back for our last project a few days ago. The one I was doing when you stayed on the phone with me all night while I was working."

"Anddd how'd you do?" she asked.

You sighed, "I got a B. An eighty-five percent."

"Why do you look so glum? That's awesome, baby! I'm so proud of you!" she said with a big grin pulling you in for a hug.

"I don't know. I thought I would get higher than that." you said.

That wasn't a total lie. You did expect to get higher considering all of the work you put into it. But you mostly had that look on your face because you were worried about what your father would say when you finally told him. You wouldn't tell Shuri that, though.

"Well you still did really good." she looked at you with a small smile after you pulled away from the hug.

"Is there anything you're craving to eat, or do you just want to head over to your favorite spot?" she questioned, taking your bag from you and putting it in the backseat.

"That's fine. You know if you let me choose something else then you'll be waiting hours for my decision." you said and she laughed.

"Okay, princess, let's go then." she smiled, walking over to open the passenger side door for you.

~~~

When you got there, you ordered your food and it just arrived. You both thanked the waitress and started to eat, talking about whatever came to mind.

"So besides studying, what have you been up to at home? I feel like recently I've only gotten to talk to you when I help you study over at the palace, or when we're on the phone late at night. I haven't gotten to actually see you." she spoke, taking a bite of her food.

"I guess nothing much really. I really need to do good on these, so I was reviewing my notes a lot. I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you feel neglected or anything like that." you apologized to her.

That is true, but it's not the whole truth. Of course you wouldn't tell her about everything that's been going on at home.

You couldn't.

"No baby, that's okay I understand. I was just a little worried about you because I know how you get around testing week. You forget to eat, and then you hardly sleep. I just wanna make sure you're okay." she gently reassured you.

You gave her the small smile that she adored so much, "I'm okay." you answered and she nodded her head. "I wanna talk about you now." you said and she chuckled.

"How's that project with Riri going?" you asked.

"It's coming along slowly but surely. I think we're gonna put it on hold for a while so she can focus on her classes a little bit more." she replied.

You nodded understandingly, continuing to talk about her work and her projects over the meal you were sharing. You missed having moments like these with her.

You forgot how much she made you laugh and smile whenever you were with her because when important test came around, you tend to forget about everything but studying.

She was always so understanding and patient with you because she knew she could be the same way when it came to her science stuff. However, she couldn't help but feel curious as to why you were so hard on yourself.

You both knew how smart you were so there was no need for you to stress, yet you still did for some reason.

That's why she wanted to take you out today. Yes, she wanted to spend time with you, but she also wanted to reward you for all the hard work you've been doing over the past few weeks.

A little while later, the waitress came back to put the bill on the table. You grabbed it and went to look at it until Shuri spoke up.

"Darling, no. What're you doing?" she questioned with a frown, reaching over the table to try and take the bill from you, but you pulled your hand back.

"It's my turn to pay." You answered and started to get your wallet, but Shuri refused.

"No it's not. I brought you here, so I'm paying." she took her wallet out of her pocket and tried to grab the piece of paper from you, but you just held it further out of her reach.

"Stop," she whined, watching you look through your wallet. "Baby, I'm serious. You're not paying."

"Please? I want to.” you said with a pout on your face.

"Baby, no. I'm actually gonna be upset if you pay, seriously stop." she spoke in a stern, but gentle voice.

"Fine." you finally let her take the paper out of your hand. She pulled her card out and handed it to the waitress along with the bill when she came back.

When she looked over at you, you were sulking which made her smile, “I love you, princess."

You playfully rolled your eyes, "I love you too."

After the waitress returned with her card, you both left the restaurant and got in her car.

"I was thinking we could go back to the palace and maybe watch a movie or something. It doesn't really matter to me, I just want to spend more time with you." she suggested, starting the car.

You sighed, "Shuri, my dad is still probably waiting for me. I told him I'd be home right after I was done testing."

"Y/N, you're an adult. You can make your own choices, and I'm sure he won't mind. We can just lay around for a few hours, and then I'll bring you home. Please?" she pleaded.

You looked hesitant to answer, so she continued to try and convince you.

"My mother has been asking about you nonstop too, so she'll finally leave me alone." she chuckled, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

You wanted nothing more than to go with her, but you knew your dad would be upset at you for getting home later than he wanted, and you'd be in even more trouble considering the grade you got on your project.

You couldn't avoid him for forever, so you thought it'd be better to just get it over with now rather than later.

You looked away from her gaze, "I can't." you said, and you could see the way her face visibly saddened.

"I'll make it up to you, but I'm just really tired." you added, trying to make up an excuse so that you didn't hurt her feelings.

She nodded her head, starting to drive off, "That's alright, I understand. We all need a little extra rest sometimes, right?" she spoke, wanting you to know that it was okay even though she was a little disappointed.

You hummed a small agreement, "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, darling. It's okay." she responded, reaching over to rest her hand on your thigh in a reassuring manner.

When you got to your house, she pulled up in front of it and put the car in park, "Can we call later?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'll call you after I take a short nap." you answered, opening the door to get out.

"Okay, I love you." she said with a small smile.

"I love you too." you repeated, closing the car door. She made sure you got inside the house before driving off.

You walked through the door and your eyes had to adjust to the darkness. The only light being whatever sunlight peaked out from behind the curtains, and the glow illuminating from the television in the living room.

You assumed that's where your dad was, but you didn't get the chance to check because when he heard the front door open and close, he popped up from the couch.

When he saw you standing there, he quickly walked to you, slapping you across the cheek hard when you were within arms reach. The force of the slap turned your head to the side. It all happened so fast, it caught you off guard.

He grabbed a paper off of the counter and held it up, "What the hell is this." he questioned harshly.

When you didn't look up, he just became more aggressive, "Answer me dammit!" he raised his voice.

You flinched and lifted your head, trying to get a good look at the paper. Your eyes flashed with anxiety when you realized it was the grade you had gotten for your last project. The one you got an eight-five percent on. The one you got a B on, and not an A.

"I-It was my grade f-for my last project." you quickly stuttered out.

He lightly chuckled, turning away from you. You knew he wasn't laughing because he thought this was funny, it was something he did that told you he was furious.

"What in your right mind made you think that it was acceptable to bring that home." he spoke, facing you once again

"I-I don't know, I'm sorry. I tried, I really did." you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut when he back you into the wall.

"That's all you have to say? You tried? What, is that gonna be your excuse for now on?! There are no excuses in this household, there is only discipline because you clearly aren’t understanding!" he continued to shout in your face.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you brought your hands up to cover your face, a measly attempt to hide from him.

But he harshly gripped your wrists, prying your hands away from your face despite your resistance,"Look at me when I'm speaking you!"

"Stop it, you're hurting me!" you cried out over the cruel words that continued to spill from his mouth.

"Losing is a habit, and habits must me fixed." he said before slapping you once again, "Do you think I spent all of this money on you your whole life to see grades like these?!"

When he was finally done yelling at you after what felt like hours, he let go of your wrists and threw the paper at your face, "Where the hell have you been? Why are you just now getting home?" he asked in a strict voice.

"I-I was out w-with Shuri. We went to get lunch because we haven't spent much time together these last few weeks." you quickly answered.

Shuri met your father the first time she drove you home at the beginning of your relationship. You caught him on a good day, so she got to meet the kind, father-like side of him.

But he's gotten worse since then, and there are no good days for him anymore. So that was the first, and last time you'd ever let them meet. You don't want her to have to worry about you.

"Shuri? Well if you think you can just go out and do whatever you want now all of a sudden, then that midterm score better be absolutely flawless. Do you understand?" he pointed his finger at you to emphasize his words.

You nodded your head, but it obviously wasn't good enough for him because he marched over to you and backhanded the same side of your face he had hit multiple times earlier, "I said do you understand?" he spoke quietly, but sternly into your ear.

"Yes, sir." you mumbled, keeping your head down.

He walked away from you, muttering stuff under his breath. You stood there for a few seconds trying to process everything that just happened before picking the paper up off the floor, and making your way to your bedroom.

You set your stuff down, and moved to stand in front of the mirror hung on the closet door. You turned your head to the side, brushing your fingers across the bruise that was starting to form on your cheek.

You sighed, knowing that you were going to have to cover that up the next time you went out. You kicked your shoes off before climbing into bed, silently crying yourself to sleep.

~~~

Shuri's POV:

I arrived back at the palace, parking the car and making my way inside, "Hey, mom." I said when I ran into my mother on the way to my lab.

"Hello, Shuri. Where's Y/N? I thought you said you were gonna bring her back with you." she questioned, noticing that my girlfriend wasn't by my side.

"She was tired, so I just took her home. She said she'll call me later so I'll let you talk then if you want." I answered.

"No, that's alright I don't want to take away from your time with her. I know you haven't gotten to see her much lately, so i'm okay with waiting until she visits again." she responded.

"Thanks." I spoke with a forced smile.

She must've noticed because she tilted her head to the side, "What's the matter?" she asked with a slight frown on her face.

I shook my head, "Nothing. I was just gonna go work on that project for a while." I replied, continuing my walk to the lab.

Whenever I need alone time to just think, I'll work in the lab. Most of the time, I'm thinking about things I need to do and responsibilities I have to take care of, but this time I'm thinking about Y/N.

She's so hard on herself, but she's way too smart to have to worry about her grades this much. Not to mention how she was basically avoiding spending time with me, her girlfriend. She might've actually been tired, but she's already been very distant lately since she was stressed about her classes.

I didn't really know what to think. I love her so, so much, but I just wished she would talk to me about stuff more often. I want to be able to help her whether it's getting her out of the house, or just being with her.

I was brought out of my thoughts by a voice, "Hellooo? Earth to Shuri." I recognized it as Riri's voice.

Turning my head, I saw her standing in the doorway, "Oh, hey. Sorry, I was just concentrating." I apologized for not noticing her presence sooner.

"Concentrating on what?" she questioned, approaching me to look at what I was doing.

"Just that one part of the project I didn't finish earlier." I answered and she nodded her head.

She stood there silent for a few seconds, reading my facial expressions before speaking, "You look like you have something else on your mind besides your work. Has something happened?"

I raised an eyebrow, but still kept my focus on what I was doing, "Did my mother send you?"

She sighed, nodding her head as she moved to lean on the table, "Yeah, she did. And now I can see why. Looks like whatever happened with Y/N was...bad?" she said, trying to gain knowledge of the situation.

I huffed, "No, it wasn't bad. I just feel like she's been distant. I understand how she was busy with studying during test week, but that's over now, and we still can't spend time together. First, she said her father wanted her home, and then she said she was tired." I took a deep breath, and Riri just listened.

"I don't know. Maybe she's getting tired of me?" I voiced, setting down the tool I was working with.

"Woah, okay now, let's not jump to conclusions like that quite yet. Have you talked to her about it?" she questioned.

"Not really. Whenever I try to talk about what's going on in her life and things like that, she changes the subject." I walked around the room, clicking on different screens as I spoke.

"Okay, well maybe start with that. There must be a reason for her doing that, so talk to her. That might be what she needs too. Someone to talk to." Riri suggested.

I stopped working for the first time during this whole conversation, "You're right."

She chuckled, "I always am, aren't I?"

"That's debatable." I playfully rolled my eyes, "We're supposed to call later, so I guess I'll ask her about it then."

"Tell me how it goes? I know you guys will be fine, though." she reassured me.

I gave her a small smile, "I will, thanks." I said before she walked out of the lab, leaving me to continue my work.

~~~

I've been waiting for Y/N to call me for hours now. It was almost 9:00pm, and I listened to my phone ring one last time before it went to her voicemail for the fifth time. I was worried, but tried to think of some of the possibilities, like she's just taking a really long nap, or maybe her phone died.

But as it got later and later without hearing from her, I decided to just go check on her to make sure she was okay. Even when she's busy, she was always good with answering her phone, so that's why I was concerned.

I got in my car and drove over to her house. When I parked, I noticed that there wasn't a single light on which wasn't I guess wasn't unusual considering how late at night it was. But I still wanted to make sure Y/N was okay before I could settle down for the night.

I walked up the front steps and knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer. When almost a minute passed with no answer, I knocked again. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing Y/N.

When she saw me, a look of panic flashed over her face, "Shuri? It's almost ten o'clock, what're you doing here?" she spoke in a hushed voice.

"I was coming by to check on you because you never called." I explained, putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

"Um yeah, about- about that. My- my phone died earlier, and my charger wasn't working..." she stammered out in the same quiet volume.

"Oh, that's fine. I was just worried about you because you never answered any of my calls or texts. Why are you whispering? Are you okay?" I asked with furrowed eyebrows, faintly noticing something on the side of her face.

But it was already difficult enough to see anything considering how dark it was outside, so I just brushed it off.

"Yeah I'm- I'm fine. My dad is already asleep, and I was about to just do some extra credit work because I couldn't sleep. Probably wasn't the best idea to take that nap earlier." she answered with a light chuckle.

I nodded my head in understanding, "Well if you can't sleep, do you wanna go back to the palace with me? You can spend the night, of course."

She turned to look behind her as if she was checking for something, and then looked back at me, "I don't know, Shuri. It's pretty late." she said, hesitation very present in her voice.

"Come on, baby. Please? I miss having you in my arms." I begged and she sighed, "This can be your way of making it up to me for earlier." I added.

She stood there for a moment responding, "Okay, just wait here for a second. I'm gonna go grab some things real quick." she said and I smiled brightly, nodding my head before she disappeared back inside.

Second Person POV:

You quietly made your way back to your room so that you didn't wake up your father, and packed a small bag of things you'd need for tomorrow.

When you went back outside where Shuri was still waiting, you got in the car with her and she started the drive back to the palace. But what you didn't realize was that you forgot to cover the visible bruise on your face.

Being so mentally tired, it had slipped your mind. You had gotten lucky earlier because the darkness outside affected her ability to see. But that luck obviously wouldn't last for much longer.

After arriving at the palace, Shuri led the way to her room and turned on the light. You set down your bag and started taking off your shoes when she began to speak.

"Do you wanna stay up and watch a movie or are you starting to feel tired-" she cut herself off in shock when you lifted your head to look at her.

Now that she finally got a good look at you, she saw the bruise on your cheek, "Oh my god, baby, what happened?!" she hurried over to you.

"Hm? What do you mean?" you asked, confused. But you realized what she was talking about when her hands gently cupped your cheek, looking at the side of your face.

"Shit." You thought.

You weren't planning on going anywhere tonight, so you had forgotten about the mark. However, it was too late now.

"Did someone do this to you?" she questioned, shifting her gaze to look you in the eyes.

You quickly responded, "No- no one did this to me. I- I just...fell." you mentally face palmed at the poor excuse you came up with.

She knew you were lying from the nervous look in your eyes, and the way you were stuttering.

"Princess, don't lie to me. Please, just tell me the truth so I can help you." she spoke softly, stroking her thumb under the injury.

Help you. You didn't want her to have to help you. She has more important things to worry about than a girl with daddy issues because of her academic performance.

But she thought the exact opposite.

There was not a single concern running through her mind at the moment that wasn't you, because you were the most important thing to her. You were her girl.

During the time you spent thinking about your next words with her eyes staring into yours, tears started slowly rolling down your face.

You shook your head, "You can't help me." you whispered.

"Why not?" she asked desperately. "Talk to me, my love."

You moved your gaze to look at anything but her, "It's just the way he is. As long as I'm in school, and probably even after I graduate, he'll always be like this."

"Who? Who is he?" her eyebrows furrowed.

You looked back into her eyes, and the look that was held in them said everything that she needed to know, "Your dad?" she said shock, and you nodded.

"Your dad did this to you?" she repeated.

You nodded once again, "He's made it seem like he's only proud of kids who bring home A's on every test. The second I bring home anything less, he flips out." you quietly confessed.

Her jaw clenched at your words, "I don't care who he is, no one puts their hands on you. Your own father especially. I swear I'm gonna-" she began, starting to pull away from you but you stopped her.

"No," you said, and she turned to look down at you, "Please don't go." you whimpered out and her gaze softened while her heart broke seeing you this vulnerable.

"Okay. Okay, I won't go. I'm here, darling." she said, gently pulling you into a tight embrace.

She held you for a few minutes before remembering the injury you had, "We should get some ice for that bruise on your face." she suggested, but you shook your head against her chest.

"Tomorrow. I just want you to hold me right now." you said and she complied.

"Let's lay down then, yeah? That's probably gonna be more comfortable than standing." she voiced, and you let her guide you to her bed.

She laid down and allowed you to curl up to her however you wished. Her arm immediately wrapped securely around you while your head rested on her chest.

You sat in comfortable silent for a few minutes until she spoke up, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You were so quiet that anyone would've thought you had fallen asleep if you didn't respond a few seconds later, "I didn't want you to worry. You have an entire country to take care of, so I tried to just deal with it myself." you explained.

"Love, you can always come to me no matter what. I don't care if I have a million priorities to keep up, you'll always be my number one. I don't want you to ever think that you have to go through anything alone." she responded, rubbing her hand up and down your back in a comforting manner.

You sighed, "I guess I was just scared. Scared of bothering you, and of what he might do if he found out that I told someone."

"Well you don't ever have to go back there. I can stop by and pick up your stuff whenever he's not home, and you can stay here with me." she spoke and you looked up at her.

"Really?" you said.

She nodded her head, "Of course, princess. And I bet my mother will be thrilled to hear that you're staying. I think she loves you more than she loves me." she chuckled, and you giggled.

Her heart fluttered at the sound of your laugh. It never failed to make her heart soar.

"I love you, Shuri." you said with a content sigh, letting your eyes fall shut.

"I love you too, beautiful." She looked down at you with adoring eyes. "Griot, turn the lights off." she told the A.I, and he did as asked.

She lightly scratched you back, watching you relax in her arms and drift off before falling asleep herself.

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pedrotonin · 1 year ago

Text

THE TOUCH OF YOU

Paring: Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: You just wanted to have a look, that's all. And now there's an arrangement and you desperately want to touch Joel, but he doesn't let you.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Wordcount: 5k

Warnings: Oral sex (both m and f receiving) P in V. Basically, just porn with a tiny bit of plot (if you squint hard enough).

A/N: English is not my first language. If you spot any bad mistakes, please feel free to message me.

You stroll through the few streets Jackson has to offer. Bored out of your mind, no idea where to go, what to do. You used to work at the tiny supply store run by Tommy and his wife, but Tommy caught you stealing last week and fired you on the spot. Over a simple magazine, unbelievable. You wanted to read the damn thing and return it the next day, but he wouldn't have it. Told you you should have asked him, and yes, you should have, but you didn't think it would be such a big deal. The main reason for taking it without asking though, was because it had been an erotic magazine from the eighties. You could only imagine the look on his face when he would've found out that's what you wanted to bring home with you.

Construction sounds float across the street and you walk towards it without thinking, ending up in front of Tommy's house, his two feet stick from underneat his porch. The perfect opportunity presenting itself. You can tell him why you didn't want him to know about the magazine and you can do so without having to look him in the eye. He'll understand, maybe he'll even give you your job back. Worth the shot!

"Tommy?"

No answer, you try again.

"Tommy? Listen, about that magazine..."

"Hm?" he acknowledges you.

"Look, I'm really sorry for not asking you about it, but you know, it being an erotic magazine," you almost whisper the last two words and a fake laugh escapes you. Jezus, this is hard, your face feels like it's on fire.

"Look, I'm not a thief, I just needed to...wanted to, you know, have a look."

He scoots from beneath the porch with a grunt and stands in front of you. Only...it isn't Tommy. It's his older brother, Joel, with a shit eating grin across his face. His plaid shirt is unbuttoned at the top, sweat dripping from his hair, to his neck, down into his shirt. Fuck.

"Where's Tommy?" you ask, not meeting his eye.

"Workin'. Doing your old job, I recon," Joel replies, while he uses the bottom of his shirt to whipe the sweat from his face, revealing golden skin, a slight tummy and a happy trail you can't help but follow with your eyes.

Maybe he didn't hear your confession from his postion beneath the porch. Maybe he-

"So, you wanted some alone time with a filthy magazine, sugar?"

Shit, so he did hear you...

"'S'okay, we all do once in a while," he smirks, leaning against the porch railing.

"No! I just, I just wanted to have a look. That's all!"

"Sure."

You look at his face and find his eyes dark, skimming over your body. Clearing your throat, you mumble your goodbyes and all but run from him. The audacity of this man, unbelievable.

When you close your front door you rest against it, out of breath and cheeks still on fire. Did that really happen? You can only pray that Joel won't tell Tommy. You don't know him very well, but from the stories you heard, he seems like an asshole. A very handsome asshole, unfortunately. Probably best if you stay indoors for the rest of the day.

Goddamn magazine.

A few hours later you wake from your slumber on the couch. Was there a knock on your door? You sit and listen. Just to be sure you open the door, and there, on your little welcome mat, lies the magazine. You quickly grab it and look around, but the street's empty. You stare at the little booklet. What the fuck. This must be Joel's doing. When you flip it around, a piece of paper falls out and flutters towards the ground. You catch it.

- here's your chance to have a 'look'.

Yep. Definitely Joel.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the magazine untouched on your kitchen table. You don't want to give him the pleasure. Or yourself, for that matter. This whole thing is getting way out of hand. You go to sleep without looking, not even so much as taking a peek.

The next morning there's a knock on your door again. This time there's definitely somebody there. The knocking continues and you open the door just a fraction to find Joel standing in front of it.

"Mornin'" he says, "sleep well?"

The stupid lopsided grin on his face angers you to the bone. You're about to slam the door in his face, but he beats you to it. A strong hand forces the door open and before you know it he's walking past you into your livingroom. What the?

You leave to front door open, grab the magazine and throw it at him.

"Get out and take this with you!" you snarl.

He doesn't move and opens the magazine.

"You made yourself come looking at this?" he asks.

Wow, crude! You can't believe he said that! He's holding up the magazine for you to see and it's the first time you actually see the inside of it. The picture is of a woman on top of a man, riding him, her head thrown back in pleasure. Christ, you didn't expect it to be so grafic!

"What? No! You pervert! I didn't even open it!", you cross your arms over your chest.

"Now get out."

"No? Shame. It's a good edition, this one," he shrugs and shows you another page.

A woman sitting on the edge of a bed, her legs spread wide and a man on his knees in front of her. His mouth devouring her.

"This is my favorite," he tells you.

Your eyes widen, your heart almost bursts out of your chest.

"Why?" you blurt out. It's the first word that comes to your mind and you immediately regret saying it out loud. You don't want to have a conversation with him about this!

"Why? Because I fuckin' love doing this. It's my favorite thing. I could do it all day. I would do it to you. I'd fuckin' love to. You only need to ask, darlin'."

Your mouth opens, closes, opens. What? What did he just say? Your brain short-circuits.

Joel walk towards you and puts a finger underneath your chin, gently closing your gaping mouth. He then rips the page out of the magazine, and puts it on your kitchen table.

"Think about it."

Then he casually walks out and closes the door behind him. You just stand stand there, blinking. Looking at the door, to the table, to the offending piece of paper laying there. You grab it and shove it into a kitchen drawer. No, wait, you don't want to keep it. You should throw it away, or burn it. Yes, that's exactly what you're going to do! But once it's in your hands, you can't help yourself... you take a look. If you squint a little, the man looks like Joel, the woman like y- No!! You crumple it and get on with your day.

That night, when you lay in bed, your mind starts to wonder. Would it be so bad if you'd let him? You have very little experience. Somebody tried it once after you'd asked him, but after a few seconds he said he didn't like doing it, didn't like the taste. It made you feel very insecure and after that one time, you never let it happen again. Told the guys who wanted to go down on you, it wasn't your thing. But truth is, you'd love to know what it would feel like and Joel did say it's his favorite thing to do. You start to imagine what it would be like with him. What it would feel like. His face between your legs, gripping his curly hair, his tongue deep inside you. You gasp as you feel your pussy throb. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and walk towards your livingroom. After a short search you find the crumpled piece of paper underneat your couch. Taking it with you to the bedroom, you slowly unfold it. You make yourself come twice. And when you wake in the morning, you're still feeling needy and make yourself come again. This repeats itself for 3 days.

You must talk to Joel.

You find him on his front porch, drinking coffee, reading a book. He doesn't look up when he greets you.

"Mornin'"

"Morning."

This is hard. You practiced this conversation in your head a million times, but now he's actually in front of you, only silence fills your brain.

"Can I help you, darlin'?" he asks, closing his book.

"I- I just want to..."

He stands and opens his front door.

"Come inside."

He steps inside and when you follow he closes the door behind you. You just stand there looking at him like a fool.

"Coffee?" he offers.

"No," you reply. "I came here to...ask you...if you w-" you take a deep breath.

"Yes?"

"Did you mean what you said, Joel?"

He's catching on straight away.

"I'd love nothing more," he's dead serious. "Is that why you're here?"

You hold up the crumpled piece of paper and his eyes darken. He puts his empty cup in the kitchen sink and takes your hand. Slowly turning you around, he grabs your shoulder and gently pushes you into one of the wooden chairs. Taking the paper, he lays it on the table for you to see, then he lowers himself onto his knees in front of you.

"Joel, ha!" a nervous laugh escapes you, "you really want to do this right n-"

"Yes."

He puts his hands on your knees, gliding them up towards your thighs, taking the fabric of your summer dress with them. Then his hands go to the inside of your thighs and back to your knees, slowly spreading your legs.

You bite your lower lip, your fingers gripping the armrests.

He scoots a little closer, bringing his face in between your legs. His nose rubs you through your panties and he lets out a soft moan. You feel yourself getting wet. He must feel it too.

"Been thinking about this every night," he murmers against you. "Can't fuckin' think of anything else."

One of his hands pushes your panties to the side and his fingers slide over you. Your eyes close and a whimper escapes you. He flicks his tongue against you and moans. The sound vibrating against your clit. Your hands fist into his hair and you grind yourself against his mouth.

"So wet already, fuckin' delicious," he slurs.

And that's how it begins. And about an hour and 6 orgasms later, he stops. Not because he wants to, but because you can't take it any more. Your hair is plastered to your face, sweat running down your neck, your legs shaking, the muscles tense and sore. His head rests on one of your thighs, his eyes are closed and he looks utterly content. His mustache and beard are glistening with your juices.

"Joel?"

He opens his eyes.

"Hm?"

"You want me to return the favor?"

He smiles and stands, taking your hand.

"No, s'okay. Let me walk you back to your house."

You're confused, but too tired to argue or ask him about it. So you let him help you to your feet and hold onto him as he walks you back to your house.

It turns into an 'arrangement' of sorts. When you feel needy, you go to him. No words needed. He takes you inside and eats you out until you scream for him to stop. He never comes to your house, and he never asks for anything in return. Always turns you down when you offer.

As time passes, his refusal to receive is driving you crazy. Because he won't let you touch him, you want it more than anything. He's on your mind 24/7. You want to seek him out daily, but you resist the temptation, trying to minimize it to 2 or 3 times a week. It's been 2 days and you're already squirming in your seat. You'll go to him today, and you will ask him about it.

He sees you coming and opens his door with a grin. You sit on the chair, it's the routine, but before he can drop to his knees, you cross your legs. The motion stops him, confuses him.

"Please, sit," you point towards another chair. "I want to ask you something."

He gives you a stern look, but sits down. One of his eyebrows raise while he waits for you to continue.

"I was wondering. Is there a reason you never want anything in return? Is it not working anymore?" you gesture towards his crotch.

At first he just looks at you, blinking a few times, then he chokes, his hand covering his mouth, and then....he starts to laugh. Out loud for christ sake! The rich sound of it echoes through the room. You stare at him, it was a serious question.

"It is working just fine, baby."

He goes to stand in front of you, ready to drop to his knees again, but you're not done with this conversation yet.

"I want you, Joel."

He looks down at you, an emotion you can't identify crosses briefly over his face, but then he shakes his head and it's gone.

"No. You don't."

You touch his stomach, but he flinches away from you. With his back towards you, he starts to breathe heavily. What is going on?

"You don't want me. You don't know me. You don't know the things I've done. I don't deserve it." He turns around again, but he doesn't look at you.

What is he talking about? You raise your hand again, an unbearable need to touch him, to comfort him consuming you, but he puts up a hand to stop you.

"Don't. "

You rise and the both of you stand in front of eachother awkwardly. He runs a hand over his face and you fiddle with the seem of your dress.

"Look. We either continue like this, or we don't continue at all," his voice sounds strained.

You look him up and down. Slowly shaking your head.

"No, please, Joel" you whisper.

He shakes his head and the look he gives you almost makes you change your mind, but you turn around and walk out of his house, out of this arrangement. You need time, time to make Joel Miller accept your touch. For him to enjoy being on the receiving end. You keep walking and don't look back.

Two weeks pas. Three weeks pas. You're working again. Tommy came to your house last week, said he had overreacted and offered you your job back. You have no idea if Joel had anything to do with it, you haven't seen him since your last encounter. The need to seek him out is almost overwhelming at this point. You can think of nothing else. Your job's providing you with much needed distraction during the day, but during the evenings and nights...he's all you can think about.

You haven't come up with a sollution yet. How to convince somebody to be on the receiving end of sex. Ha! Even saying it in your mind sounds ridiculous.

The little bell next to the door shimes, signaling a customer. You look up to find Joel standing in the doorway, his gaze already on you. You stare at eachother for a good few seconds, before he walks in and grabs a box of rusty old nails. He places it on the counter, not meeting your eye.

"These, please."

You wait for him to look at you again, but he won't.

"Joel, I-"

He starts talking at the exact same moment, interrupting you.

"Please, come see me after work?"

You nod while he gives you a once over before storming out of the shop. The box of nails left untouched on the counter.

You leave 5 minutes early, freshen up and put on a nice dress. Convincing yourself it's not for practical reasons, but just to look nice.

He's on his porch, waiting for you. His shoulders relax a little when he spots you, like he was afraid you wouldn't show up.

"Hi."

He opens his door, and you enter, but once inside you're not sure what to do. Do you sit on one of the wooden chairs? Are you both going to pretend nothing happened? Will you sit on his couch? Or maybe you should just stand here and wait for him to make the first move? You choose the latter.

He's nervous, you can tell. His hands are everywhere: in his hair, touching his neck, removing imaginary lint from his clothes. He clears his throat.

"I miss you," he shakes his head and groans. "No, fuck. I mean, I miss our arrangement."

"I do too, Joel"

"Then why didn't you come to me?" he looks almost desperate.

"I want you to get something out of this as well and -."

"I do! I told you, I love doing it," he interrupts you, becoming frustrated.

"and I want to touch you, Joel."

He puts up his hands in defeat, groaning.

"Fuck," he hisses. "I already told you I don't...I can't."

"Yes you can. Just let me, please."

He turns to face you again. You can see his resolve starting to crumble a little.

"If you don't like it, we can stop."

"That's exactly the problem... I will like it. I know I will, and then I'll want more. And I don't deserve that. I always fuck things up. Or you will die on me and -"

He stops himself, he said too much, you can see it in his eyes. He's angry at himself, angry for his blabbering.

He walks towards the kitchen and his hands grip the counter, turning his knuckles white.

He's staring out the window, probably remembering things from the past. After a while his breathing becomes shallow. He's having a panick attack, you recognize them all too well.

You slowly approach, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence behind him. He doesn't, so you lightly touch his shoulder. He doesn't flinch this time, but you can feel his muscles tense. He looks sideways to your hand, confused as to why it's there. You glide it slowly towards his bicep, he allows it. And then, you throw all caution in the wind as you step into him as your arms wind themselves around his waist, your head rests against his back as you hold him. He doesn't move, doesn't even breathe, so you tell him to.

"Breathe, Joel. Just breathe".

The breath he was holding, leaves him in a big sigh and you feel him slowly start to relax in your arms. His shoulders drop and one of his hands folds over one of yours, keeping it in place. The other's still gripping the counter.

You stay like this for a couple of minutes, untill Joel's breathing is mimicking yours. Calm and even. What happens next is something you didn't expect. He turns around, facing you, and after a moment of contemplating, he suddenly hugs you back. One of his hands slides around your waist and the other tangles in your hair, while he molds you against him. He lowers his head so his face rests against your neck and he breathes you in. You stroke his back with one hand, his hair with the other. After a while he pulls back and looks at you. Almost reluctantly, you take a step back. You smile, but his face stays completely serious.

"I will come back tomorrow."

He nods and there is it: a smile. Albeit a little one, it's still a smile. He opens the door and when you walk pass him, he lightly touches your shoulder.

The hours go by ever so slowly. No customers to distract you, only your own treacherous thoughts.

One hour to go and you already can't take it anymore.

The bell chimes and you look up to find Joel marching towards you. His eyes dart around the store, searching for other customers. When he finds none, he grabs your arm and walks you to the little back room.

"Joel? What are y-"

He closes the door, and before you can finish your sentence, he spins you in his arms, pushing you against the door.

"Joel?"

"Couldn't wait any longer," he murmers against the top of your head.

You expect him to kiss you, or drop to his knees, but he doesn't....he just holds you. One of his hands strokes your back, while the other is around your neck, pushing your face against his chest. He smells so good. Woody, smokey, strong, masculine.

You stand there for about 5 minutes before he releases you. You look up at him, finding his gaze already upon you. He brings his right hand to your face to put a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek.

The bell chimes again. Of fuckin' course.

Joel motions for you to enter the shop, while he leaves through the back door. You wait 'til he's gone before you walk back inside to find Tommy looking for you.

"Hey. Have you seen Joel?"

"Nope."

Half an hour to go.

He isn't on his porch like usual, so you knock and wait. After a few knocks, just when you think he isn't home, the door opens and he's there. He showered, his hair's still wet and slicked back. He's wearing a dark denim buttom up with the sleeves rolled up, showing his muscular forearms. God, he's so handsome.

You sit on his couch this time, with him right next to you, manspreading, his knee almost touching yours. You're immensely aware of his presence, his body, his heat, his scent.

"Listen," he begins, "this thing," he gestures between you and him "it's not easy for me."

You nod, don't want to interrupt him.

"I don't deserve you,"

There's so much you want to say, but you remain silent. Taking in his pained expression, you can tell he's struggling. He's a man that doesn't like to talk about things.

"and I should probably let you go, but I can't," he pinches the bridge of his nose and scoffs.

"I'm a selfish motherfucker."

"I don't want anyone else, Joel."

He looks at you and shakes his head.

"You should darlin', you really, really should."

You scoot towards him. Slinging your left leg over his left thigh, leaning into him.

"But I don't."

His hand starts to stroke your shoulder. His expressive brown eyes seek yours as he leans in and whispers in your ear:

"Then touch me, damnit."

You let your head rest against his chest, angling upwards so your lips graze the underside of his jaw. Your hand starts to slide over his chest, over his stomach, his thigh. His head falls back against the couch, his mouth opens and his breathing speeds up. Your mouth latches onto his neck, your tongue laving avainst the little bitemarks you leave. Sitting up a bit more, you bring your mouth to his ear, while your hand ghosts over the prominent bulge in his jeans. Earning you a low groan. Oh, how you dreamed about this.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear, licking his lobe.

He turns his head sideways and his lips find yours. He kisses your bottom lip and then he swipes his tongue over your top lip. You gasp at the sensation and he uses the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth.

"Hmm, s'good, baby," he murmers against you.

His hands cup your face as he deepens the kiss, pulling you on top of him. His hands grab your ass as he guides you over his hard cock. You grind against him and he stops kissing you, instead looking into your eyes while he grunts with each trust of your hips.

Much to your frustration his hands suddenly disappear from your body, as he stands and grasps your arm, yanking you towards his bedroom.

"You're supposed to touch me," he grins as he walks your towards his bed, "not the other way around."

He sits down, spreads his legs and waits.

You don't need any further encouragement. Getting on your knees in front of him, making quick work of his fly and sliding his jeans down. You palm him through his boxers while he strokes your cheek.

You bring your face close to him and gently start to kiss his lenght, enjoying the little moans and hisses that escape him.

"Fuck," Joel groans, "please."

His plea shoots straight to your very core, he's desperate for your touch. Finally.

Your fingers slide underneath the elastic waistband and you push his boxers down, freeing the most beautiful erect cock you've ever seen in your life. He's big, but not overly so. Slightly curved and uncircumcised. A beautiful big vein runs along the side and you lean in to follow it with your tongue, all the way up to his weeping head. He leans back on both his arms, moaning your name with an involuntary trust of his hips.

You take the head into your mouth, gently sucking it, not moving down yet. Your tongue swirling around it and you let your spit dribble down his length, coating him. The sounds he emits make your pussy clench, the need to touch yourself almost overwhelming, but you resist. You never imagined him being so vocal, it's a major turn-on.

Your right hand cradles his balls, while you take him further into your mouth. Bobbing your head up and down, your left hand curling around the lower half of his shaft, pumping.

"Fuck," Joel moans above you.

His hips start to move, meeting your mouth, and one of his hands fists in your hair, but he doesn't pull you towards him. The noises that fill the room make you blush. The wet sound of your sucking, slurping, combined with both of your moans.

"I need more," you say while giving his head a last lick.

"Take it, baby, take it," Joel whispers.

You push down your panties and slip of your dress. Joel's eyes widen at the sight of your naked form. Then you reach for the buttons of his flanel, undoing them one by one. Revealing his tan, gorgeous body. A slight spatter of dark hair covers his chest, his nipples are dark and his slight tummy is rapidly moving while he's struggling to breathe. You take his jeans and boxers and slip them off. The both of you stare at each other for a few seconds. Taking the other in. Then he scoots back and you climb on top of him, pushing your soaking pussy against his hard cock. Gliding your wet lips over his lenght, while his hands grip your hips.

"Sweetheart," he warns.

With a slight angle of your hips, his head is suddenly right at your entrance and you lower yourself. You're so wet, he bottoms out in one thrust. Falling against his chest you need a minute to adjust. It's been a while and Joel's not exactly small. Once you feel your body relax you push yourself up, placing both of your hands on his broad chest. His hands are on your ass, kneading, stroking, his cock deep inside of you. Joel needs more too, his hands now griping your arse and helping you move on top of him. He puts his feet on the matress for leverage and takes over. Fucking you hard. You try to meet his trusts but you can't, falling helplessly against his chest. Your orgasm is approaching, your pussy contracts around him. He feels it too.

"You gonna come for me baby? Fuck yes. Please come, please."

His brutal pace combined with his pleas send you straight over the edge. Your body freezes, your pussy fluttering and squeezing around him. He doesn't stop his movements, chasing his own high. Your slick starts to run down his cock and onto his stomach.

"Joel," you moan.

He pulls out of you and his hot cum splashes on your ass. His eyes squeeze shut while he groans your name. You feel another orgasm building from just looking at him coming undone.

When he finally opens his eyes to look at you, you take his hand, and guide his fingers inside of you. He grunts and starts thrusting them in and out of you while crooking them a bit. When he puts his thumb on your clit, your second orgasm almost hits you immediately. A slight stream of liquid gushes out of you onto his stomach. You fall fowards and he holds you, one hand around your back, one hand in your hair. His fingers gently moving inside you until he's sure you're done.

"Sorry, that never happened before," you whisper against his chest. You're so ashamed you don't dare to look up.

"Baby, don't fuckin' apologize for it," he murmers in your hair. "Fucking hottest thing I've seen in my life. Goin' to explore it some more later."

When you open your eyes, you're confused as to where you are, but then memories of last night flood your mind. Joel holding you against him, stroking your back, you must have fallen asleep.

Rolling onto your side you check if he's still in bed with you. He is. He's on his stomach, head resting on one of his arms, awake, looking at you.

"Hi."

You reach for him, but you're hesitant. He notices and takes your hand, planting little kisses on the inside of your wrist.

"Are you okay?" you ask him.

"Yes, you?"

You lean in untill your lips almost touch his.

"More than okay," you whisper against him before stroking his bottom lip with your tongue.

He grabs you and rolls you onto your back, positioning himself on top of you.

"Turns out I was just a little touch starved," he pushes the head of his growing erection against your already wet folds.

"Let's remedy that," you meet his hips and he moans before kissing you.

"Fuck yes".

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greeen-bean · 3 months ago

Text

Tuesday

"Nothing will ever love me like that. Doesn't matter. Jowan exists. There's something good in the world. There's a point to being alive."

"I laugh. It's kind of funny. We look like we're a couple, or something."

"[Coming out as trans] actually brought in a whole new load of listeners, ones that looked up to me specifically. Which was cool. Suddenly we weren't just a teenage boy band playing fun upbeat tunes. Suddenly we were something a little bit more important than that."

"He's always been a bit separate from Rowan and me. [...] It's always sorta been Rowan and Jimmy, plus Lister. We still love him of course. But that's just the way it is."

"All seems to be forgiven, but when Lister skips away to his own chair, I watch Rowan's smile fade away until nothing."

"I've never seen you so angry, my girl. You're not a naturally angry person. It was a bit of a shock for everyone."

"We're worried it might be too important."

"Don't worry. I know that. I'm fully aware I'm average. God, I'm so so aware I'm average. But I'm not going to think about any of that right now. I don't need to. This week isn't about my life. I don't have to think about it at all. This week is about the Ark."

"I like to imagine. I like to hope. I like to feel happy."

"There's a big window on one side of the bathroom. Big enough to climb out, probably. We're on the ground floor. We could just climb out and run. Get up and go."

"Older interviewers, like Dave, are always obsessed with how many adjectives they can put before our names."

"It's impossible to be unhappy knowing that Jimmy and Rowan are in love with each other."

" I think the truth is that everyone in the entire world is confused and nobody understands much of anything at all."

" Being a male fan of obscure old bands is, for some reason, more acceptable than being a female fan of a twenty first century boy band."

"'They make me feel like' That something good exists. That the world shouldn't just disintegrate, right now. That there's something worth me sticking around for. 'Wouldn't you otherwise?' I tried to think of another pair of people that make me believe in love but nothing comes to mind. I think about my parents snapping at each other. A school friend dumped after she finally had sex with her boyfriend. A couple sitting inside at a restaurant table. 'Probably not' I say"

"An old woman is sitting next to me. 'Whatever it is,' she says 'it's all God's plan, and He knows what He's doing.' 'Sorry,' I say smiling. 'Did I look sad?' 'You look like it's the end of the world my love'"

"Everyone just wants to be friends with Lister Bird."

"Rowan and bliss were a perfect couple at the beginning."

"I almost want to laugh. As if this guy knows anything about having fans like ours."

"You Ark clones think you're the fucking kings of the world, don't you? [...] Sometime soon something's going to knock you down from your pedestal"

"Sometimes I wish I was a normal teenager. I could go to a party and maybe kiss a boy and work out all that stuff like normal people do."

"But we're God's Jimmy. What's better than that?"

" You simply don't seem to care about your achievements or want to celebrate them. You don't value that part of yourself. You just...care about this boy band.' [...] 'Dad, why would I want to Celebrate myself when i'm so extremely average?'"

"'Because it's your life.' [...] 'I just want to go to a concert,' I say 'And then I'll feel better.' 'Were you not feeling better before my girl?' I don't think i've ever felt anything except The Ark."

"'I hate myself.' 'Why would you do that?' 'Whoever I am...it's bad.' 'Why would you say that?'"

"'I can't do it by myself.' 'You're going to have to one day, Jim-Bob, I'm eighty-four years old. We all have to do this by ourselves eventually.' 'I can't. When you're gone...I don't want to be here any more.'"

#iwbftreread2024 #i have also run out of the tabs i was using so wednesday will be a slightly different shade :)#iwbft #osemanverse #jimmy kaga ricci #angel rahimi #fereshteh rahimi

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bigmouthlass · 2 months ago

Text

Title: The Three'o'Clock Slump

Series: Vices and Indulgences

Author: BJ

Fandom: The Boys

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Solider Boy/Original Female Character,

Synopsis: A new member of the Vought America leadership team gets a surprise at her first semiannual board meeting.

Tags: Solider Boy, Original Female Character, Early 80s Period Piece, Dubious Consent,

AN: All your porns are belong to us. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any trademarks or copyrights. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and is protected by Fair Use.

---

Context in life is basically everything, Prof. Andrews would say over and over when he'd give his lectures on symbolism and figurative language. To understand a thing's purpose, one must place it within the correct context.

Which is why my brain's flapping around like a car with a blown tire right now. The correct context for the man sitting next to me is . . . not here. His proper context is out in the big scary world being bigger and stronger than everything, making the problems he solves seem both too big to handle and too trivial to bother with, saving the world through sheer American . . . American-ness. He doesn't belong here. In the same room as me. Next to me. Close enough to feel his heat and smell his cologne. It's got me all flustered and twitterpated and all that jazz.

Doing my absolute best to ignore the superhero sitting next to me, I face front. Mr. DeSousa's launching into his presentation on Vought South America's aggressive property acquisition push in Brazil. It's got nothing to do with my end of the business, and in no time I'm so bored I'm rigored. The buzzing from the lights is giving me a headache and I skipped lunch so I wouldn't have to use the bathroom at an awkward moment. I'm sweating under my second best suit and the stale air's making me feel smothered and claustrophobic. In the back of my mind I can feel the cost of my presence here mounting in terms of jobs back home that aren't getting done. Ever since Vought's Western division split I've been pulling eighty hour workweeks getting the new Seattle offices off the ground. Like the wise man said, war is hell but expansion is worse.

Oh and did I mention that Soldier Boy is sitting right here beside me? Bumping my left elbow as I try to catch up on this month's budgets? Who is currently wearing a nice but unremarkable double-breasted suit, a watch chain gleaming gold at his waist. Nothing to hint that he's outside his proper context except no way would anybody with eyes think he belongs in this crowd. He's a leopard in a den of hyenas.

God's night jars he even brought a briefcase, dark green leather with brass clasps.

"Psst!" I start so hard I almost drop my pen. It takes everything I got to not squeal like a five-year-old. I've met Supes before. They're a good-slash-service that we sell. Close to, they're human like the rest of us. But with Solider Boy, the illusion's not collapsing. It's just getting new dimensions. For instance, did you know he has freckles? Itty-bitty ones, scattered across the bridge of his nose. "Have you got a light, miss?”

Words in language using vocabulary I was taught at some point-- my brain seizes up solid.

"Light?"

"Oh! Uh . . ." I hand him my little black Ronson and he lights a cigarette, patrician lips clutching the filter end and mouth working around the smoke.

"Much obliged," he looks at the lighter barrel, "Ace?"

Alice Corina Espersen, that's me.

"So if someone would please get the lights--"

"Let me." DeSousa turns pale as Solider Boy uncoils himself from his chair and reaches to flip the switch. The light from the slide projector and the odd glow of a cigarette ember are the only illumination as we're treated to click after click of tropical-looking wildernesses and charts showing developmental timetables.

Click and Solider Boy's handing me my lighter back, trailing his fingers over my hand in a light incidental caress that makes every hair on my body stand on end.

Click and he's slouched to the side, pressing his arm firmly against my shoulder. Thick as a tree branch; if he pumped his bicep his sleeve would pop open.

Click and he's leaning close to speak softly in my ear, asking me what the ACE stands for, making a small pleased noise when I introduce myself.

Click and he's inhaling softly, smelling my hair and my perfume. I blush so red my head hurts when I realize he can also smell my sweat.

Click and I feel a touch on my leg under the table. Just a light little pet on the top of my thigh, warm through my stocking.

Click and his hand’s fitted just above the cap of my knee, big and hard.

Click and his thumb’s rubbing a funnybone.

Click and he’s pushing up the hem of my skirt, one torturous fraction of an inch at a time.

Click and he’s touching the meaty inside of my leg.

Click. Click. Click.

The lights come back on and Soldier Boy’s sitting with his hands folded on the table in front of him, face as open and innocent as an angel. Mr. DeSousa calls a break, making some lame seventh-inning-stretch joke I barely hear. "Thank you for your attention. Reconvene in thirty."

Forgetful of my dignity, I make my quick way to the ladies’ room. God I’m a sight, flushed tomato red and my makeup caked up by sweat. From being pawed by . . . by . . .

Bonk context, I got up in the mirror universe this morning. One where the greatest hero to ever live just spent over an hour feeling me up and one where I’d trade my immortal soul if only he'd do it some more. I stuff my emergency rock candy in my mouth and lean over the sink to splash water on my face. The cool wetness is blessed relief.

I straighten up and in the mirror-- the shriek of surprise gets shoved back down my throat as a big hand covers my mouth. “Shh,” Solider Boy says. “Easy Ace.” His free hand covers my ribs and pulls me into his body. I’m decked out in every authority symbol I can manage to compensate for the tiny body the good Lord done gave me; dark framed glasses, black suit, understated makeup. Against Soldier Boy, none of it works. He's just so big, powerful, there's so much of him. His body eclipses mine, his presence extinguishes me. I melt back into the heat of his embrace. “The door’s locked, and we only have twenty minutes.”

I defy any red-blooded American female to look into those eyes and say no thank you sir I’d rather not get fucked in the bathroom like some back-alley floozy. Solider Boy shoves my skirt up and grunts in approval when he feels the snaps of my garter belt and the lacy tops of my stockings. My underwear vanishes with a snap of failed elastic. Thanks to his work from earlier, I’m all humid down there. He makes quick work of the buttons on my blouse, sighing in appreciation as he eyes my bra. The pads of his fingers brush my button, soft and gentle.

"Shh," Solider Boy whispers as I try and suck back my whimpers. "Don’t want anyone to guess what we’re up to, hmm?" I shut my eyes, torn right down the middle between mounting horror and mounting lust. Some seconds pass in silence, then a hard voice in my ear orders, "Open your eyes Alice. I want you to see this."

This can't be me, this slut looking back at me with her skirt up and her bosoms hanging out, Soldier Boy's face hanging over my shoulder and his fingers coaxing something clawed and merciless out of my center. He takes off my glasses, studies them a moment, and flings them into a corner. My hair falls down everywhere as he pulls out the pin. "There we go. It’s always you professional girls who pop like firecrackers."

Professional. That’s me, no room in my life for anything like what he’s making me feel. To be taken seriously in a man’s world a woman’s gotta be ten times the man of everyone around her-- in control but never dominant, supportive but never motherly, attractive but never sexual. Soldier Boy’s yanking me out of my context and making me feel grateful for it right alongside the shame.

“Oh, good girl,” he tells me in a voice of pure intoxication as I reach up and link my hands behind his neck. My chest rises as my body stretches, lifting my bosoms and exposing my throat. Soldier Boy’s fingertips keep pressing, caressing, his touch light and sure and turning my whole body into a building thundercloud. His free hand covers my mouth and I sob out a strangled wheezing moan as I seize up in the hardest brightest climax I’ve ever had in my life.

I stumble forward and catch myself by my hands on the sink counter, panting and shaking. My hair hangs down in strings over my eyes. Chuckling to himself, Solider Boy steps back. I hear the clack of a lock. "Better hurry. You've only got five minutes."

Trembling like a newborn fawn, I readjust my clothes, do what I can for my hair and powder my nose. I look . . . like a hooker halfway through a long hard night on the streets but it's going to have to do. My bare crotch feels slimy and disgusting and without underwear I just have to hope my slip and skirt lining can hold the line against a wet spot bleeding through.

"Dammit Ben--" I hear someone say as I hurry out of the restroom. I'm the last one in as Security locks the doors. The VP of talent management's taken my seat and I'm stuck having to excuse myself to the only empty chair. I can hear the end of my career in the stony silence, see it in everyone's disgusted glare. Dear Lord strike me dead. Hell can't be much worse than this.

And yet, I can feel the weight of Solider Boy's stare on the back of my neck. My sex burns and throbs, weeping a tiny trickle of nectar and making my slip stick to me. God help me but if he wanted to throw me on the floor down in front of everyone, I'd let him. Hell, I'd thank him.

Finally, mercifully, it's over. I've got a redeye back to Seattle and a long weekend of head-clearing drudgery ahead of me in the privacy of my own home. Doing my best to ignore the lecherous smirks, I make a show of packing up my attaché case as the room clears. I'll feel better after a nice big room service supper, a hot shower, and a few hours of sleep.

As I'm following the pack towards the bank of elevators, a long arm snatches me into a hallway I didn't notice before and before I can say Jack Robinson I'm being whisked into an empty elevator. Strong arms lift me out of my shoes and guide my legs in a monkey wrap. My head goes light and swimmy as lips clamp over mine and a broad tongue licks its way into my mouth. I'm weightless, underwater, drowning. My body doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to him.

"Sweet like candy," Solider Boy mumbles between kisses.

"I've got to catch a plane--" I squeak.

"No. You don't." The elevator door beeps open and Solider Boy carries me to my fate. --- AN2: Soldier Boy strikes me as the type of sexual predator who lives in that dubcon twilight zone of But They Really Wanted To and refuses to entertain the idea that consent under duress is invalid.

#Solider Boy #Original Female Character #Early 80s Period Piece #Dubious Consent #soldier boy/original female character #the boys #bj's fic library #vices and indulgences series

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stromuprisahat · 8 months ago

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The main reason why Malina bothers me so much as a ship is because Mal never really notices or cares that Alina is really ill because of her wasting sickness. As someone who has struggled with severe depression before, and could sort of relate to how Alina felt while she suppressed her powers and was suffering with wasting sickness, that really struck me as uncaring. Mal never noticed when she was unhealthy, and then when she is visibly healthier and happier, he wasn't happy about that either. All he seemed to prioritize in that conversation was his own feelings. I really don't think Alina deserved a partner like that who didn't even notice or care about something as basic (and very important) as her health. When I was struggling with depression, I had the support of my parents and friends, but they also called me out when it was obvious that the tendencies that I was developing were clearly bad for me. In a healthy relationship, you need a balance of both those things, compassion as well as someone who will call you out when it's needed.

Oh, but he does notice.

I'm not sure how much of it is internalized hatred for Grisha, and how much his need to have Alina reliant on him, but when you put two and two together, the resulting picture isn't exactly flattering.

When a guy's angry you're not sickly for once in your life, makes a pointed comment about eating half a wild rabbit (2 kg living weight minus skin, bones, intestines... 500 g per portion if I'm being overly generous... as food for a whole day...), knows even other people know you look like shit, but doesn't seems to mind the fact itself... then keeps acting as if the new you were bad, so the reader can't help but wonder how much of his concern for Alina's well-being once she starts collecting amplifiers is truly about their possible negative side-effects, when more power also equals stronger, long-living Grisha.

That's the mess of mixing health with morality.

I fully understand your feelings. I have some mental and physical issues myself, and I cannot picture my loved ones not caring. My mum comes suggesting new possible ways of my treatment every once in a while, reading articles or talking to her acquaintances, and watching for any signs my "head meds" might not be working well even though that wouldn't make me dangerous in any way. My almost eighty y/o grandma's first steps after learning of my blood issues, were to consult "clever books" she has, and she's been also listening for any mention of similar symptoms on TV or radio.

Hell, my father, with whom I have no particularly close relationship, suggested possible solution, and people at work were- just last week- more concerned about my queasiness (That I've solved myslef with correct pills and an hour of rest.) more that Mal is about Alina's weakness and pathological lack of appetite.

The manager I've seen first two weeks ago seemed more genuinely concerned about me possibly passing out, than Alina's "oldest friend" ever...

So yeah, I don't buy Malina's love eternal either.

He cares for her only as his property. And not even the kind you wash and polish...

#reply #Grishaverse #grishanalyticritical #Malyen Oretsev #Alina Starkov #Grisha trilogy #anti Malina #anti Mal

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escapismkidnappedme · 3 months ago

Text

When I was 12, I got my period. It scared me. I thought I was dying.

Naturally, I told my mother. If I was dying, I was going to spend every last breath designing my funeral to be the best funeral a twelve-year-old could have.

She simply replied "You're a woman, now." as I was given a box of pads and the discussion of what to do began. It was simple, unceremonious, and any questions I had were answered in the best way a parent raised in shame could speak to their child who simply did not understand why it was shameful, could. I only knew not to bother my dad about it because he wouldn't know where to begin on the subject.

The only question that couldn't be answered satisfactorily was 'Why am I a woman?' I was told the biological reasonings, the theological explanation, an explanation of my past of wearing dresses and having a predisposition for liking the color pink- despite my favorite color being blue since my birth, and the explanation of how my body would change next.

My hips would grow in, my chest would no longer be flat, I would have to start shaving my legs and armpits, I would soon be policed on every way my body presented. Short of illness, I could no longer talk to my mother about my body.

Eating no longer became an act of indulgence but rather an activity to be avoided at all costs. My father would laugh at how little my mother ate, not knowing what was drilled into her as a teenager. I sat across the table and decided that I would eat to enjoy food, unknowingly treating mealtimes as a replacement for the comfort I once felt in my family.

Bulimia came as I felt like it was my way of fighting back. I could eat whatever I wanted as long as I threw up more than I put in. I gained weight anyways. I became fearful of carbs, terrified of sugar, and reliant on coffee to keep myself thin. Vegetables were fine, but only if others heard my stomach growl to the point that it was making them uncomfortable.

My body was no longer my own. It had simply been loaned to me in my childhood until I was old enough to pay for it in my teenage years. I could have it back when I was an adult and proved I wanted it enough.

In high school, I hoped the reasons I felt so disconnected from my body was because I was transgender. The hatred of my own breasts had to be from dysphoria. I never wanted them. I never felt an internal urge to 'be' a woman, despite my biological leanings, so it must be that I was a man.

In college, I changed my name. I began to go by masculine pronouns. I became policed as a man rather than as a woman, and still I was treated like an idiot blonde. My hair was criticized for being too long, then for being too short. I was policed for not having enough body hair, but hated how prickly my legs felt whenever I skipped shaving.

I entered my first long-term relationship where I was policed for not being masculine enough. I was constantly told that when I got on testosterone, I would finally have a libido. I was treated as a 'work in progress' that would be loved as soon as I was done working on myself, rather than for the person I was.

I was treated as eye candy while I replaced the comfort one should feel in a relationship with food. Carbs became my respite. I gained weight. In two years, I gained eighty pounds.

When I finally stopped having sex out of coercion, I was cheated on. Once I found out, I broke it off and moved out a little under a month later. I went back to college, broke down and shaved my legs, and finally let my hair grow out. For some odd reason, my breakdown manifested in the foods I ate. I could only have a specific salad I make from the dining hall's salad bar because it meant I was in control of the portion.

I lost the first ten pounds that month, earning myself the allegation that I was on diabetes medication, and when the next ten came off, I earned the allegation that I did cocaine.

I'm still repairing my relationship with food, and still trying to find my perfect label that encapsulates how I want to present myself to the world, but all I've learned is that I have no interest in following strict social codes to identify as any particular gender correctly. Simply put, I am myself. However I choose to present is how I think my clothes would look best. If it means looking like what people perceive as a man, or if it looks like what people perceive as a woman, then it is their job to decide. As for my body, I view it the same way I view a car. I'm in it, I can adorn it, but as long as everything is working properly, I don't really care for comments about it.

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slash-aaa · 4 months ago

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a drabble for @giallifilm.

they say you can find some kind of solace in the matching of darkness in others. parker can't say for sure if that's true, or if he's felt what he'd call comfort in the issues he seems to share with lara. but he did find himself pulled toward her. something gravitational and addictive. having always struggled with enjoying things in moderation, there was a full send moment parker experienced after the rocky start he'd had with lara. she either made him feel less alone, or joined him in his loneliness, he couldn't tell which, but didn't mind either way. regardless, lara had been more than willing to indulge his habits, as just much as he was willing to encourage hers.

as fucked up as it was to voluntarily get an alcoholic drunk, who was parker to point out the immorality of it all? pot calling the kettle. instead, the partners found their way to a dingy bar on a dirty street corner ( leaving work at nearly midnight left them with limited options ). it's a familiar place, one parker and lara had ventured to on previous evenings, nights when they both knew sleep would evade them. parker follows behind lara as they enter the dim bar. he focused on the scent of lara's hair rather than the mix of piss and cheap tequila that wafted through the pub. one finger attaches to her belt loop so that he wouldn't lose her, despite how small the bar was. they sit down at their usual table in their usual sport with their usual order: two shots of whiskey and a pitcher of beer, to start.

parker pulls out a cigarette, offers one to lara, and lights them both, blowing smoke into an already smog like atmosphere. around them sit large bikers in leather vests ; men shrouded in darkness at the back tables, presumably waiting for their next coke sale ( parker's nose twitches at the sight ) ; women who bend over pool tables or dance to off beat music to seduce their scumbag boyfriends.

'all this shit makes me feel old,' parker says as he shoots back his whiskey. he's thirsty five, but feels like he's eighty - all aching bones and exhaustion. parker had felt tired for most of his life, and the concept of aging never sat well with him.

'what shit? drinking at a rundown bar, or watching every couple in here decide how illegal it actually is for them to fuck each other in public?'

words cause parker's eyes to snap towards lara, the man taking a moment to process what she's said before he begins to laugh, shaking his head with the effort. the way lara spoke amused parker at times - a feat which was unachievable by most others. he takes a swig of his first pint of beer, swallowing before filling the glass back to the brim.

'both, i guess. all of it,'

as he sucks on the filter of his cigarette, he glances back up at lara, seeing her through the easing haze that came with the consumption of alcohol. he always thought she was pretty, in a morbid way ; like her beauty was given to her in exchange for the thing that was supposed to make her human - her soul, her morals, or whatever the fuck they're supposed to have. parker felt at home in the way lara dealt with their world, something all too recognizable in her approach. she seems to catch him starting, but parker doesn't look away. any other woman would playfully ask why he was looking at her like that. lara already knows why, which is why she holds parker's gaze as she downs her shot of bourbon.

the night consists of a very large tab, and the partners stumbling out of the bar together after last call. parker sees the city in blurred lights and muffled sounds, the two of them holding each other up as they passed parker's car - the one he would take a taxi back here in the morning to pick up. they come to the mutual conclusion that lara's apartment was closer, and so they walked in that direction, muttering about anything that came to their drunk minds. parker wouldn't remember any specific words shared between the two, but he would remember the feeling ; the understanding. he doesn't think he could ever forget that.

upon arrival at lara's place, lara pulls her keys from her pocket, dropping them twice before parker wraps a hand around hers to keep it steady. the two all but tumble inside, barely remembering to close and lock the door behind them. even in his drunken state - the man sloppily removing layers of clothes from sweat sheened body - parker appreciates how familiar lara's space is. it felt safer than his own apartment. though that sentiment made him wonder if it was the place he was in, or the person he often shared it with.

once he was free from his confines, parker spun around to find lara, only for her to be standing right behind me.

'creeps me the fuck out when you do that,' parker slurs playfully.

palms moved up to press into either side of lara's face. they stay like that for either hours or seconds - in this intoxicated moment, parker can't tell. he also can't say the way in which she's specifically staring back at him, he just understands that he likes it. even if it's with disgust, confusion, disappointment - or something more intimate that neither of them would be able to say aloud. at least she was looking at him like she knew him. no one else had ever had the guts to really see him that way she does.

when her lids begin to droop, parker all but carries her to bed, ensuring the small frame of her body was covered completely by her blanket.

'you're not leaving,'

it's not question - lara isn't asking whether he was staying or not - it was a demand. parker thinks an unnecessary one.

'where would i go?'

rhetorical, words he left hanging in the air as parker watched lara's eyes close, only stumbling back into the living room when he thought she had fallen asleep. parker falls onto the sofa, bare belly down, cheek pressed so hard against the cushion that he'd surly wake up with its woven pattern on his cheek. in a few hours, they'd have to go back to work, look through gory images, run themselves to death trying to find a shred of evidence for their case. but that's tomorrow. tonight, parker passes out with the knowledge that he had found someone to share in his darkness with, uncaring of how unhealthy that may be for either of them.

#phew... for you morgue <3 #parker and lara.#giallifilm

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the-insomniac-emporium · 10 months ago

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Remembering my grandpa: the coolest guy I've ever met

so, like, still haven't processed what happened. that's honestly pretty typical for me, it's something I used to feel really guilty about (everybody around me would be crying, and I wouldn't actually feel those emotions for upwards of a year), and I've gotten better at addressing what's under the surface before it gets to the point of a breakdown. there are several reasons for why my biggest personal metaphor for grief is as follows

our love is a garden; this grief is a seed

mostly been keeping myself busy, just cleaned most of the kitchen in one go, probably going to clean my room later today. also been thinking a lot about how incredibly cool my grandpa was. he's genuinely one of the most rad people I've ever had the chance to meet, and I don't even know all of his stories!!! just gonna ramble about him for a bit

dropped out of high school (and later got his GED) because WW2 was happening and he enlisted (either lied about his age or was just barely old enough). got recognition for his marksmanship skills, and (forgive me for not knowing his official rank/title) even ended up being a sort of guard for a high ranking officer. I remember being told that when they had to drive somewhere, Gramps was the guy with a scoped rifle keeping an eye out for trouble, ready to counter ambushes or something like that.

(the point is that I haven't heard the details since I was a kid, but his rifle skills were incredible, especially considering his age at the time)

known for drinking Respect Women Juice and being a stand-up guy. I've read some of his memoirs (not published, but they might be at some point, I'll let y'all know), and he talks about how mad he was at my grandma's dad (his eventual father-in-law) because the FIL was soooo excited to have "man time" with Gramps, after already having treated Grandma like the son he would have preferred, and Gramps couldn't understand why FIL wasn't appreciating the incredible woman that Grandma was. seriously, Grandma was also a badass, an equally incredible sharpshooter who only quit competing (having reached the highest level for women in the US) because she realized in order to keep winning she'd have to actually put time and effort into getting better. also she was a great cook, apparently. had a real temper tho

Anyway, there's also some other stuff about his respect for women, but that involves a bit of family drama with other relatives that I don't want to get into online. The gist is that he went out of his way to make sure that several women in the family got treated fairly, especially when some people weren't properly appreciating the work of a stay-at-home mom.

He was an active scuba diver for many, many years, and several of his longest friends were met via the hobby. at one point, he even worked with several of them to buy a large amount of land on San Juan Island (of the San Juan Islands), where they divided it up and all built houses together. I have many memories of going to visit during the summer, and honestly it was really impressive what they built together. Grandpa also loved kayaking, and even dabbled in making kayaks!

Putting more under the break because I recognize this is lot

In order to get to San Juan Island, most people take a big ol ferry. during an incident that got a fair bit of coverage in the local newspapers, my Grandpa was taking the ferry when he realized someone in the distance was in trouble (small boat, might have gotten flipped or something, again don't remember all the details). Grandpa was quick to take action, got the attention of the ferry's crew, and was able to arrange a rescue. If he hadn't noticed the boat, chances are the person/people would have died.

Gramps was very active even up into his mid-to-late eighties (genuinely very fit and healthy until his kidneys started failing), and had some fun ventures as part of a historical group that went around the San Juan Islands finding old map markers/territory markers (god, I wish I remember the right word) and using modern tech to record their exact locations. It was like a scavenger hunt, almost, using old/outdated maps to find these things.

He was also an official boat inspector for Friday Harbor (the main part of San Juan Island) for several years, and was recognized for his hard work/the sheer number of inspections he did.

On top of all of this, my Grandpa was genuinely one of the warmest, funniest guys around. If someone asked me to think of an example of healthy romantic love, I would think about my Grandpa and my step-grandma. Then I'd think about my brother and his gf but that's a whole other thing. Grandpa was full of love, and had no qualms with showing it, using his musical talent for serenading her (he also joined in during the family gathering jam sessions). The way he looked at her will be forever engraved in my memory, full of love and full of life.

There are plenty more stories about Grandpa, some of which I just never heard, and some of which I have simply forgotten. I'm gonna miss him.

#j says things #personal #actually saying I miss him made the emotions hit #it didn't feel this real ten minutes ago

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 2 years ago

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Hey John, do you feel like writing something up for your au of the vardy au? Something like Lucian teaching Vardy how to fucking survive? Sorry if I’m bothering you with this, but I had this stuck in my head. Thanks ♥️

Nah, you're not a bother at all!

Sorry, this won't be a long one, technically I should be asleep right now cause I've got another night shift tonight, but I'm eating lunch and that's a fine time to write up a one-shot.

On with the fic!

"I'm honestly shocked at how you've been alive this long, Alec." Lucian said and Hardy turned, giving him a look.

"I'm stubborn." He replied simply, the snark obvious in his tone.

"Well, there is not doubting that, but you always seem on the brink of death."

"Was the same when I was a human, could have died of anything at any time, really."

He saw Lucian roll his eyes out of the corner of his own. "Yes, but it seems you have no need for self-preservation unless if you are determined to solve a case that greatly troubles you, or your family is involved. How were you before any of that?"

Hardy frowned, gritting his teeth. "Just... didn't want to die as a bloody vampire, 's all."

"Hm. Well, if you don't better hone your skills that you have now, and accept that you drink blood to survive, you will die as a bloody vampire."

"I'm fine, I have a method of doing things."

"Which results in you going feral."

"Bat face."

"Still feral, Alec. It happens to many vampires, and to some of my own people. You need to learn to survive with better instincts." Lucian said, casually, even tapping Hardy on the chest. The detective swatted his hand away.

Now Hardy rolled his eyes. "Lucian, I've been around for eighty years like this, I'm fine, I've gotten this far."

"But the skin of your teeth." Lucian narrowed his eyes and Hardy glared back, before realizing something about this conversation, about the look like the other's eyes.

"You're worried about me." He said and Lucian pulled back.

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I worry about you?" Lucian frowned. "I mean, it's not every day that I find myself loving someone again after so long and fearing that they could be taken away from me just like how I lost Sonja, hm?"

Hardy winced, right, right, Lucian was... he was protective, had been over his people, over his wife, and to lose so many, especially her, well... he could understand that. Yes, Hardy was prideful when he felt like it, especially over his own well-being because he hated people fussing over him, but now he felt like shit.

"Sorry." He mumbled quietly.

The lycan's expression softened. "I just want to make sure you're okay. The... the silver incident scared me, Alec, I don't want to see that again."

"Neither do I."

"Then I'd like for you to let me help you improve your survival instincts, to make sure you don't get hurt, or worse, so easily again. Not even just from stakes, or holy objects, or silver, but even from your poor heart. Don't think I don't know that thing still troubles you, Ellie had made that very clear."

"Damnit, Miller." Hardy bite out under his breath. "Fine, just... don't go overboard with it, alright? Don't want to make you worry more."

Lucian smiled at this. "I'll do my best, my love."

Wasn't really teaching him to survive, cause I wasn't sure what to write exactly for that, but them having a conversation to get the ball rolling works, yes?

#the vardy au #lucian x alec hardy #john's drabbles

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cat-the-dragon · 11 months ago

Text

-33:

When I was born, my death counter said thirty-three.

Thirty three. It could be worse. Some baby's death counter says two years. Or six. Or nineteen.

Thirty three is not so bad.

My parents had me at twenty-eight and thirty-two. They both had fifty seven years left to live. They had thought, when they first met, that it was so romantic that they shared a death year. They would be there for one-another all the way to the end.

And I would die twenty-four years before them.

I have to hand it to them. They tried their best. They tried.

-28:

When I was five, my little sister was born. Her death counter said ninety-two. And I was just old enough to understand why my father shed tears of relief when mom showed him the infant's wrist.

My little sister would outlive them.

Unlike me.

And still, they cared. At best they could.

-27:

Yet they still tried to keep my little sister a little distant from me. Spare them the pain of losing me when she was only twenty-eight by preventing her getting too attached to me to start with.

But little Lea didn't understand yet. And with my bracer hiding my death counter, she didn't even know to ask. Lea loved me, despite, or maybe because of my parents' efforts to spare her from me.

Wearing a bracer to school was not uncommon. But... Well. It was more the mark of the unfortunate. Why hide your death-count when it said eighty or ninety? No. You hid it when it was on the shorter side.

And children do not yet understand tact, or respect conventions.

If you wore a bracer, you would be asked to remove it. Show your own death-count. And those who refused risked bullying. There was no winning this.

Either you refused to remove your bracer, and you had refused to share a secret and become friends. Or you did remove it, and the knowledge of your death count would forever tint your relationships.

-25:

I made friend with another short-lived kid.

It was eye opening, in a way. My new friend would die twenty years old. Thirteen years before me. He appreciated me, my willingness to still associate with him.

And I got all of my parent's furtive sad looks at my covered wrist by looking at him. One day I would lose my best friend.

And like an hypocrite, I refused to make any more short-lived friends. The exact same thing I disliked being subjected to.

My parents might have it right, associating with someone with the same death year as them. It cut down to pity and anticipated grief.

-18:

As years passed, my counter ticked down. Feeling more and more present.

Lea finally understood that I would leave her, and she started to drift away.

-16:

My best friend and I got a bit distant. I decided not to bother with higher studies. Why invest so much of my limited time in something that wouldn't give me return?

-13:

My schoolday best friend died. At twenty, just as predicted. A car crash, like statistics dictated it would be. He wasn't even driving, having decided it too risky. The car found him while he was walking on a sidewalk. And I had thirteen more years to live.

-11:

I did try to date. It never quite worked. At some point along the dating, you were expected to remove your bracer. Share the secret. And, much like school, either you didn't, and you weren't deemed invested enough, or you did, and your partner found an excuse to ditch you.

-9:

I joined an association for the shorter lived.

It was a bit dis-humanizing, how they tried to match you with someone who would die in the same year as you. I wasn't just my death counter, after all.

But the sweet old lady I was paired up with was a delight.

-8:

My parents kept in contact. Doggedly, possibly out of shame for having chosen to spare themselves pain in picking each-other. Lea didn't.

After a while, me and Gertrude, my dear sweet old lady, got a third same death friend. His name was Mark and he was thirteen. Gertrude seethed at fate when she first met him. How would she live to seventy and Mark to twenty-one?

Mark had been signed up by his parents. They hoped that being matched with same death friends would curb his budding delinquent tendencies. I got him. Why not, after all? Why not make the most of time he had? He woudn't die yet, after all.

-7:

Mark stopped seeing us. Then he got caught by the police. Two years of prison. It was a tragedy in itself.

I stopped wearing my bracer to hide my death counter.

We got another friend instead. Hesper was fifty. She was staying away from her grandchildren. She didn't want them to miss her when she died.

It was Hesper who got the idea.

Why not adopt a short-lived child? All together? Pool their economies to buy a small farm make some sort of haven so we can ensure a sort lived child don't have to be reminded of their death count with every rejection.

I like the idea. Gertrude too.

We're starting the procedures.

-6:

His name is Michael. Like the angel. A bit on the nose, but why not, after all? He's two, and he has five more years to live. We picked a child who would die before us. On purpose. He won't have to mourn us. He will be happy to his very last moment.

We obtained a derogation from school for him. He does not need to learn how to live on his own. Gertrude spoils him endlessly. We all do.

-5:

The short-lived child care center contacted us. They want us to take on another child with the same death year as Micheal. She's older than usual for them, her mom just died from cancer. Her father never was in the picture. A one night-stand that refused to stick around for a woman and child that he would outlive.

Kara is eight, and bitter to the core. We do our best for her. She loves Micheal with all her heart, and that's encouraging.

Mark is getting out of prison soon. He accepted our offer to come fetch him and clear him a bed until he gets his feet under him.

-4:

Mark is staying with us now. He doesn't want to go live at his parents'. And he found a purpose in caring for the kids.

The center for the care of short-lived children attributed us a stipend and gave us two more children. We expended the farmhouse so we'd have enough space for everyone.

Hesper is contacting various groups in the short-lived people association, she wants to will the farm to another group who might raise more children there.

All of our children have died. It was... It was horribly hard. Seeing the other ones stand at the funerals, fully expecting to be next.

Maybe we shouldn't have opted to ask for the right to bury ours on the property. The graveyard is not the best place for condemned children to spend their last few months.

It probably isn't the best place for us either. Seeing how Mark comitted suicide in there.

Gertrude will die from her heart, it's become obvious. And Hesper has come down with an horrible pneumonia.

As for me... I don't know yet. Maybe I'll decide to go see my family one last time and die of a plane crash. Then again, plane crashes as a cause of death has decreased almost to zero since companies have started asking the zero-years to say so, and grounded all the plane with a majority of zeroes for thorough revisions.

Though then again, that prediction method got very unreliable. After all, if the plane will stay grounded, then when will people die? They were meant to, after all. But retiring any pilot when they reach one year did yield results.

I do have regrets, but... It wasn't so bad a life, after all. For all that the specter of my own death shadowed me all along.

everybody’s always on writing prompts like “what if there was a world where everyone had a timer ticking down to their death… but you met someone whose timer said infinity!” or “what if everyone had their cause of death tattooed across their forehead… but you met someone whose forehead said THE CREATURE!” Enough -

enough. stop with the shock value. there is no need to insert THE CREATURE; the benign concept of such a world is horrifying enough. not even in urgency, but just in banal, everyday interaction. imagine you meet someone and their timer says two years. not tomorrow, not urgently soon, but two years. enough to do quite a lot. they could fall in love in that time - could they get engaged? have a baby? you might otherwise get to know them, befriend them, but perhaps you opt not to, make a conscious choice not to invest in your own grief. what balancing act would every individual person have to participate in - I have ten years, is that long enough to be a good mother to children? is that long enough to secure a caretaker for my own mother? my wife will die a few months before me. my newborn’s timer reads nineteen years.

and cause of death. you interview for a job and emblazoned across the healthy, smiling face of the HR lady is MALNUTRITION. your country is prospering, safe, but every person you meet on the street from the babies to the old women read BOMB. BOMB. what kind of havoc would fate wreak on the world? what about the loss of privacy? how would that shape our notions of hope? idk man I think a lot of those ancient poems were right, and the fates are monsters. I’m interested by the framing of these ideas as trite horror tales when the premises themselves are so much more disturbing if simply taken to their logical ends

#short story #prompt fill #I cried writing this #beware #reader discretion advised

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klysanderelias · 5 months ago

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I think one of the things that makes me so mad about the Biden stuff is like, objectively, regardless of which side you're on, that man should be retired. He's fuckin' 80. No one should be working at that age, regardless of the reason. He should not be under any sort of pressure greater than like, having family over for the holidays.

And there's been this trend of liberal politicians but also conservatives too just refusing to step down for literally no one's benefit than themselves. I forget if it was McCain or someone else who came back in the middle of brain cancer treatment just to vote no on some bill or another. Ginsburg was fucking EIGHTY SEVEN WITH CANCER for Christ's sake. If she'd retired like everyone asked her to when Obama got elected, we wouldn't be starting down a 6-3 supreme Court.

But of course God forbid you say that because she's the 'notorious RBG' or whatever, and because apparently asking an octogenarian with cancer to retire is beyond the pale.

And like, I understand the reality a lot of people live in where they have to keep working long past retirement age. I work with a lady who's 73 or something, and she's still working to make sure her grandkids are taken care of. Lord knows most of my generation won't be able to retire.

But genuinely if Biden can't afford to retire then we're all fucked in a way that's beyond repair.

And you end up with people digging the weirdest holes trying to justify why an 80 year old ought to be pulling long hours at a thankless job. Aren't you the idiots who love this man? Let him rest! It feels like elder abuse making/letting him spend his last years doing this.

I'm just sick of this cult of personality bullshit with zero internal consistency. When Bernie was running against Clinton his age was CONSTANTLY brought up by her supporters, but now the party line is that 80 is perfectly fine and you're ableist for saying that he's too old to perform the duties of the office. Especially after we all got fucked because Ginsburg wouldn't retire, I think it's absurd to be doing this shit again.

But of course we also ended up in this position because the Democrats confirmed Barrett with hugs in the literal last weeks of Trump's term instead of following Republican precedent and waiting until the next presidential term started, so asking for effective political strategy is clearly a waste of time

#I'm still mad about all the Dems bending over backwards for Barrett #congratulations idiots you showed your bipartisan spirit #and now you're screaming from the rooftops about the potential of a Republican supermajority on the court #like yeah what the Republicans did to Obama when he tried to appoint garland was shitty and unfair #but I'm more interested in not having the supreme Court overturn gay marriage than being honorable #and again y'all are supposedly terrified of that outcome so why aren't you willing to get in the mud to win #and you had the perfect excuse of precedent to say 'sorry but by your own rules we have to wait'#you can't just roll over to prove that you're the reasonable one when your enemy is openly unreasonable

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rancim · 2 years ago

Text

3/1

The rain pelts our house harder, louder, it's mounting tempo a metronome matching the confused, frustrating feelings rising inside of me as I clean my father again, the third time he has shat himself today. It is 2 am. He has called me demanding for the commode, but I do not make it in time, and the diarrhea caused by the mix of antibiotics and a strict diet of easy to eat things and advanced age and what not now streams down the eighty dollar sheets he insisted he wanted, soaking into the cover protecting his three thousand dollar mattress. My father lived his life simply, but wastefully, in pursuit of money at the cost of his health. The satin sheets, the expensive pajamas, all flecked with shit. What was the point of it all? I ask myself, as I hold my father up while my mom rubs Clorox wipes over the sheets, the oxygen tubes, the catheter. If anything of his infects him due to our lack of sterilization, it will only complicate our future even further than it already has been.

It's been a day since he's come home, and although I've dealt with this song and dance multiple times in the past, this time his stay in the hospital was longer than the last, this time he comes home sicker than he had been before, and this time it's just a bit harder than last time. Aren't you so relieved he's home, family members ask me, the ones on the sidelines, his brothers and sisters that text me thoughts and prayers for their brother, asking of his condition, waking me up in the middle of the day when I can try to manage a nap since mine and his sleep cycles are synced now. Fuck them, I think to myself. Are they the ones that clean his shit? Stay up at all hours to expunge the phlegm from his throat so that he doesn't choke? Cook his meals, pick up his leaden body, withhold their anger??? I want nothing to do with them when my father dies.

I throw out the stained chucks and stand in the rain for a little bit feeling melancholy. My mind returns to the woman that ghosted me. Friends accuse me of being too forgiving of her, too understanding. Why aren't you angry for what she's done, they ask? I can't bring myself to. For that brief moment where we were in sync, I was happy because it felt like some glimpse of normalcy in a life uprooted of it by my father's illness. I think of her a lot, how it wouldn't have worked out regardless. Imagine spending your first Valentine's day apart, your lover attending to their father in an ICU bed monitoring his breathing and calming him down after a nightmare awakens him. Ah well, next time I guess.

ah ah ah

always next time

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dragonjesterwrites · 3 years ago

Note

Hello, I'm here from AO3. I was wondering if you could write about MC's first time meeting Sun and Moon? Have a great day!

Heya! Sorry about the delay, I actually wrote two drafts and discarded them before settling on this one haha- good writing practice though!

Hope you enjoy, and thank you! You have a great day as well <3

TW: Swearing

Damn, damn, damn!

You slammed your fist on the shutters that had just closed, annoyance flaring at the dull pain the action caused in your hand.

You flipped around and slumped against the metal shutters, eyes dully tracking the security bot that was rolling across the way. It turned, raising its flashlight at you, then rolled over. You brought a hand to your eyes to block the light, squinting as it stopped in front of you, rocking slightly at the sudden loss of momentum. "Hi." You said calmly, forcing the bite out of your voice. The bot was just doing its job, and it wasn't its fault you were stuck here, anyway.

The bot's eyes glowed briefly white as it scanned your face. "Valued customer, the Pizzaplex is closed. Please make your way to the exit." It said.

"What exit?" You asked, perking up some. Maybe there was a side door or something. But to your dismay, the bot simply pointed at the metal shutters you were leaning on. These guys weren't quite as clever as the Pizzaplex advertised, then.

"Valued customer, please make your way to the exit."

"I'm not even a customer." You muttered. "Why do you think I'm a-" Oh, right. Despite your uniform, you supposed it didn't recognize your face yet- today hadn't been your official start day, just training. Well, it had been more of a tour, you thought as you dug your employee-in-training badge out of your pocket. You were assigned to work in the Daycare, but you hadn't gotten a proper look there since the Daycare Attendants were apparently out for repairs, and the employee you were following around understandably still wanted to get paid, so she'd just shown you around so you wouldn't get lost.

"Here." You flashed the badge at the robot, and it leaned forward slightly, scanning the plastic. It let out a short beep and its eyes flashed blue, then it spun a perfect one-hundred-eighty degrees and disappeared off to secure the gift shop.

You sighed and ran a hand down your face, looking around. You supposed this place wasn't the worst place to get trapped in at night, but at the same time, there were a fair amount of cameras, so you couldn't goof off in any of the attractions if you wanted to keep your job. Maybe you could just find a good place to sleep. As a Daycare employee, you worked days, not nights, and it was already past midnight.

Hm. The Daycare was as good a place as any, you supposed. It was for little kids after all, so there should be naptime supplies like pillows and blankets. And some snacks, with any luck.

You shrugged and pushed yourself off the shutters, trying to recall the way over. Up the stairs and to the right…

You glanced at the walls as you passed them, trailing your fingers along the dusty brick. On your right were depictions of the Daycare Attendants, advertising their respective candies. The Sun beamed up at the candy pinched between his fingers. The Moon rested his head on his hands, smiling sleepily. Hm. Cute. Eventually, you made your way to the shutters, and looked around for any security bots before examining it.

You didn't see a handle, so probably electronic- ah, there. A pad on the side of the shutters displayed Helpy, the small white animatronic bear, strolling down a red carpet past a sea of legs.

You showed the badge to the little bear, and while he didn't give any sign of acknowledgement himself, the pad beeped and the whirring of motors sounded above you.

The shutters began to roll up, and you ducked under before they fully opened, stretching back up with a yawn as you made your way through the dimly lit pickup area. There was a set of stairs to your left, but the quickest way looked to be through the slide and into the ballpit... Ahh, what the hell.

You grinned, frustration forgotten as you slung yourself down the slide, shoulders knocking slightly on the plastic as you quickly slid through the brightly colored twists and turns. You couldn't help but laugh as you landed in the ballpit, spraying the plastic balls everywhere. Luckily, you realized, they smelled like cleaning solution, so you wouldn't be calling off your first proper shift sick with whatever supergerms normally thrived in these things.

You began to push your way through the pit, heading for the bridge, when you were able to catch a noise over the din of the plastic balls. You stopped and waited to hear it again, looking around. Maybe the lights above just buzzed or something. Hmm. You were about to continue your journey before you heard it again, and this time you were able to locate the sound.

Your head snapped up to the castle tower set against the wall above the pit. A tall, lanky, and faded yellow animatronic jester was staring right back at you, waving. It- no, he, your guide had referred to him as a he- rapped his knuckles on the wall. Ah, that was the noise you heard. This must be the Sun Daycare Attendant- you guess he had been let out of maintenance. But shit, he might need to go back in; the poor guy looked positively neglected, with faded casings, milky white pupiless eyes, and grubby clothing.

Hesitantly, you offered a smile and waved back. He started bouncing excitedly on his heels, and began making movements with his hands that you were able to recognize as sign language after a moment. When you didn't answer, he tilted his head to the side with a click and made another set of gestures, the bells on his wrist accentuating each sign.

"Sorry, man, I don't speak sign." You called up to him, and he stopped halfway through a movement, wilting slightly. He paused, then tapped the bottom of his faceplate, taking his eyes off you to scan the Daycare. You wondered if he always spoke sign. Maybe he was there for the kids who were hard of hearing or deaf?

Suddenly, he straightened up again, and pointed at a cupboard across the Daycare, tucked in halfway behind a play structure. You looked at the cupboard, then back at him, and he pointed at it again excitedly, causing the bells to jingle.

"You want me to go get something from the cupboard?" You asked, and he nodded vigorously, before making first a rectangle with his fingers, then a scribbling motion. "Ah- you want me to get paper and something to write with so we can communicate." He danced side to side and clapped his hands as he nodded, and you grinned at the display of excitement. "Alright, one sec."

You made your way out of the ballpit and opened the cupboard doors, grabbing a small sheaf of papers, along with a box of crayons, then turned and held them up for him to see. He gave you a double thumbs up, and beckoned you back over.

"Alright, uh, am I coming up there or are you coming down here?" You asked as you approached, peering up at him. He appeared to hesitate, then held up a finger and disappeared into the room behind the castle tower. You tilted your head as you listened to him search for something, then grew concerned as you heard a crash.

"You alright up there?" You called out tentatively. He popped out and gave you another thumbs up with one hand and waved two long, thin poles with hooks on the end with the other.

He tossed one down to you and pointed at the nearest play structure. Despite your growing sleepiness, you set down the supplies and got to work, grabbing your pole and scaling the outside netting. You turned to him, hanging on with one hand. "Now what?"

He gestured with his pole to a cable with a similar hook, hanging over the ballpit. It wasn't close enough to either of you to grab, even at full swing, so that's what the poles must be for. You squinted up into the ceiling and spotted the cable's mechanism, attached to a track. He pointed at himself, then you, and repeated the motion before shaking the pole. "Right, I see, use the poles to get the cable going- okay, I'm ready."

He hooked his pole around the hook of the cable, bringing it towards him as far as he could before releasing it. The cable swung to you, and you were able to catch it with your pole. After a few tries, the mechanism the cable was attached to squeaked, and moved slightly towards you. Sun raised his fists in a cheering motion, then made the same beckoning motion. You caught the hook with your pole, then pushed at it with as much force as you could muster, causing the mechanism to finally come loose, the cable slowly rolling towards him.

He dropped his pole with a clatter and grabbed the cable once it was within reach, spinning his torso to reveal a loop on his back. He carefully hooked himself up, then tugged on the cable to make sure it was safe to descend on it. You two reached the ground at roughly the same time, and he quickly unhooked himself to come and shake your hand. You took it, noticing how large his hands were compared to yours. He was pretty tall in general, actually… maybe around seven feet, if he stood up straight.

"Good to meet you properly, big guy." You chuckled. "We make a good team." He nodded excitedly, before releasing your hand to begin writing. He then handed the paper to you with a flourish.

Hi!!! I'm Sun, but you can call me Sunny, or Sunrise, or Sundrop :) Sorry I can't talk right now, I'm having a bit of trouble with my voicebox and my cable calling software- but it's nothing to worry about! Anyway, what's your name? Why are you here so late? Not that I mind having a new friend- but it's so late! :o

You smiled at the words, easily picking up on the excitement they contained. You gave him your name, then glanced back down at the paper. "And, well, it's kind of embarrassing, but I'm here late 'cause I got trapped in the bathroom stall. The door wouldn't unlock, and I got trapped inside the Plex." You rubbed the back of your neck as you spoke, and he made a reassuring gesture with his hands. "You, uh, want me to take a look at your voicebox?"

He hesitated, twiddling his thumbs. "I have some robotics experience," you assured him. "But I won't touch you if you don't want me to, I totally get it." He perked up a bit, and skipped over to the security desk, motioning for you to follow. You did, and he pointed at a drawer. Opening it, a screwdriver as well as a few other miscellaneous tools rolled towards you.

"Okay, yeah, this should do." You took them out, grasping them in one hand and returning to him. You looked around, and spotted a stack of foam barrels nearby. One of those should be perfect for him to sit on. But as you moved towards it, Sun suddenly leapt between you and the barrels, shaking his head frantically.

"Whoa- um. Don't you want something to sit on?" You asked, frowning. He paused, then sat down on the padded floor in front of you, crossing his legs. "Oookay." You sat down across from him, and he scribbled something down on the paper, handing it to you before beginning to fiddle with the buttons on his chest.

Sorry. I have to keep the Daycare clean. Thank you for helping me though! I really appreciate it :) is there anything I can do for you in return?

"Ah, I gotcha. And yeah, actually, if you're okay with it, could I stay here to sleep?" You asked. He nodded as his chest and torso opened up with a pneumatic hiss, revealing his endoskeleton, wiring, and circuits. You handed him back the paper and clicked on the flashlight, flicking the beam of light around to search for the little box. In your peripherals, you saw the paper slide next to you, and you spared a glance at it.

Oh, of course! You can sleep whenever and wherever you like. I can bring you some blankets and pillows. Or if you want, we can stay up awhile, have a slumber party! We can draw, or paint, or tell spooky stories!

You smiled softly, and returned your attention to his chest. "That sounds like a lot of fun, bud, but I gotta sleep." He sagged a little, and you reached out to squeeze his shoulder, fingers brushing against the ruffles. "Hey, don't worry, I'm gonna be working with you and Moon Monday. Today was my training day. Didn't I tell you that already?"

Sun shook his head, tilting his faceplate this way and that as he tapped his hands excitedly against the padded floor.

"Ooh, stay still, I think I see the problem- and yeah! I'm looking forward to it." You told him as you pried something out from behind his voicebox with the screwdriver, reconnecting the loose wire with your spare hand before looking down at the object you were clutching.

"Now, how did this get all the way in there?" You laughed, holding up the jumbo googly eye for him to see.

"Haha, I have no idea- oh! Oh, you fixed it, I can talk!" Before you could blink, Sun's chest closed up and he swept you up in a big hug. "Thank you so so so much!"

"Oof- yeah, of course!" You recovered from the surprise and hugged him back. He released you, and sat back on his heels.

"I'm looking forward to it as well! The kids are so great, and you seem really kind, they're gonna love you!" He told you, before standing and offering you his hand.

You gladly accepted it, and he easily pulled you to your feet. "Hey, thanks! Glad to hear it." You opened your mouth to ask about Moon, suddenly curious, but the urge to yawn won out.

"Friend, you do look tired! Let me get you some blankets. Be right back! Now, where does Moon keep them…" He hurried off behind a play structure, and you bent down to clean up the papers and crayons. He'd said he has to keep the Daycare clean, and you didn't want him to get in trouble.

When you returned from the cupboard, Sun was bouncing on his heels, and he beckoned you to follow before skipping over to one of the entrances to the sprawling jungle gym.

"Oh wow, this looks super cozy. Thank you, Sunny." You smiled gratefully up at him, turning your attention from the veritable nest of blankets, pillows, and Glamrock plushies he'd made for you in the nook. Perhaps having a blanket nest made for you by a friendly robot dressed like a jester was a little weird (okay, a lot weird) but fuck it, you were tired, and the gesture was much appreciated after your frustration at getting locked in.

"Of course! It's not as good as the ones Moon creates, but I enjoyed making it all the same!"

You crouched down and crawled into the pile. Man, it was comfy. "Well, I think you did an amazing job." He let out a pleased hum and dropped down to bring one of the blankets over you.

"Thank you! And if you need anything at all, let me know! Moon will be out later, so I'll tell him you're here beforehand. I'll be back in just a minute to bring you some snacks and drinks." And with that, he stood and disappeared off into the Daycare, humming a tune.

You made a noise of amusement and set an alarm on your phone for just before the Pizzaplex opened, before snuggling down into the blankets, touched by the kindness of your new coworker.

~~~~~~

You awakened to the sound of ringing, rubbing your eyes and patting the ground for your phone to shut off the alarm. You'd only slept what you could, about five and a half hours, but it was Saturday and you could always nap later. Your hand hit a piece of paper, and you blinked in confusion. Shutting off your phone with one hand, you picked up the paper with the other, noticing as you did the small pile of fruit, chips, water, and soda that sat next to your bed.

I hope you slept well, friend! We'll probably be charging when you wake up, but I just wanna say it was great to meet you. Be safe going home, and I'll see you Monday! - Your pal, Sunny :)

Written under it, in blue marker with yellow stars surrounding the writing-

Glad to have a friendly new coworker. Thank you very much for repairing us. We can meet properly Monday - Moon ☆

You smiled and flipped the paper over, writing your own message.

Thank you for letting me stay here, you two, and for the snacks and drinks. I look forward to working with both of you! :)

You stood and disassembled the nest, stacking the folded blankets and crowning it with pillows. You left the note on top of the pillows, and checked the time- three minutes 'til opening.

Well, you wouldn't be staying over again for the sake of your sleep schedule, but you really did look forward to seeing Sun again, and meeting Moon. You took one last look around as you bundled the food into your arms, then headed home.

#sundrop x reader #technically it's a prelude but eh #sunrise x reader #sun x reader #moondrop x reader #moon x reader #writing request

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