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hatsukeii · 3 months ago

Note

hi to the 🐤

no rush for this request(?) at all!! i was just rotting thinking about childhood bsf iwaizumi hajime with reader in high school and the fic could be about how hajime is too used to the spotlight being taken by oikawa and gets half sad when he thinks u also got stolen by him but no they’re just scheme to plan a huge date for her to ask him out

OWMXKWNC OR OR OR OR childhood bsf ushijima (do u see a pattern?) always being next to reader and always being there for her, helping her run errands, do stuff and he’s like a rlly big lost puppy following her around and one day they’re just like ‘WE’RE DATING?!’ ‘What do you mean? We’ve been dating since you said yes to my ring pop proposal’

thank you for greeting duck the goose:)

i feel like i haven’t written about iwa nearly enough (he is a need btw yes iwaizume hajime (27) athletic trainer save me) BUT i will get to your ushiwaka one soon after as well‼️ gonna feed the iwa crowd today

bags / childhood bsf!iwaizumi hajime x reader

genre(s) - childhood bsf to lovers!! slight angst, but with a good, fluffy ending, oikawa being his usual self, iwa being hot as always

warning(s) - bags by clairo used for a MAN and not a WOMAN smh:( it just fit well though and I love it, gn reader so the girls the gays and the theys are all covered for!! no serious warnings today my pookies<3

wc: 1834

tldr; he waits for the right time with your bag in his hands, hoping for the day he can hold you with them instead

Iwaizumi Hajime (13) has been holding your bags since the days of middle school. Without fail, every afternoon at 3:10pm exactly as the school bell rings, he is standing outside your classroom, his own bag slung over one shoulder for yours to go on the other. Then, he slings it onto himself, and watches you and Oikawa walk out of the classroom together, cursing to himself for never being put in the same class as the two of you. He drags behind, two bags weighing his little middle-schooler body down, but a toothy grin plastered across his face whenever you look back at him with that face. That face with the ever so slightly widened eyes, and lips apart in a worrisome smile.

“Are you sure you can hold two bags, Iwaizumi? I can take it back!”

“I’m fine! It’s all good!”

Middle schooler Iwaizumi Hajime (13) watches you through Oikawa’s squinted eyes as the two of you chat and giggle on the walk home, his footsteps still lagging behind. He’s rarely close to you, unlike Oikawa, so his mind has to fill the blanks. He remembers hearing you mention the crow’s feet that line the corners of your eyes once in passing to Oikawa, who then rambles on about how they look like whiskers on a cat. He recalls the time you face planted into the floor of the school playground, earning you a faint, white scar that slashes across your top lip. He watches you through Oikawa’s eyes like he’s reading a story. But this is Oikawa’s story, Oikawa’s dialogue, Oikawa’s conversations with you, Oikawa’s descriptions of your face, blank spots filled in with blurry recollections of the details of you, stolen from the vibrations in the air between you and Oikawa, all playing out in front of Iwaizumi’s eyes with your bag slung over his shoulder.

Once in a while (every single day), even now, as the three of you continue to walk home together from Aoba Johsai after volleyball practise, Oikawa turns around to pout at him, feigning betrayal and shock as he accuses high school junior Iwaizumi Hajime (16) of “friendship treason.” Whatever that’s supposed to be.

“Iwa-chan! How come you never carry my bag for me too?”

“You can carry your own, dumbass!”

And every time Oikawa has a childish outburst at Iwaizumi, like this one, you snicker into your palm at his antics, the crow’s feet that engrave themselves into your skin turning into smile lines that lace the underside of your eyes, reminding him that even as the audience of Oikawa’s story, living vicariously through his conversations with you, and the smack on his arm that you mockingly give him, Iwaizumi is still inevitably tied to the plot through the strap of your bag hanging on his shoulder. His body, taller and stronger now, still lags behind the two of you by his deliberately slowed steps. This is Oikawa’s story, and if this is what you want, then he will simply watch it play out.

The walk always reaches your home first, to Iwaizumi’s relief. It is only then that he gets the opportunity to live in Oikawa’s shoes, when he walks towards you and eases the bag onto your doorstep. It is here that he can see you through his own eyes instead, noticing the little freckles from the sun that scatter across your cheeks, and the bits of dried skin on your lips that you gnaw off with your front teeth, and the blood that begins to seep through the raw wound where the skin came off. You look real, not like his fractured recollection of the strokes that make up your face. You’ve clawed your way out of Oikawa’s story into his own, and Iwaizumi etches something new into his mind every time he looks up from placing your bag down, patiently pleading to one day know more than just your face.

"Thanks for holding my bag again Iwa, get home safe, okay?"

Iwa. Oikawa's nickname is rubbing off onto you, and he thinks he can get used to this.

For the rest of the walk, Iwaizumi is inserted into Oikawa's story, like some surprise cameo. He readjusts his backpack, slinging both straps onto his shoulders, and Oikawa knudges his side with his elbows suggestively every time you leave.

"You can lie to them, Iwa-chan, but you can't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Sure."

But Oikawa knows Iwaizumi is being unfair to himself, because he doesn't know the way his name slips out of your mouth into the conversations between you and Oikawa, more like a recurring character than a surprise cameo, hidden amongst every other line of dialogue in a script. He doesn't know that whenever the crow's feet begin to grow on your cheek, like whiskers on a cat, it's at the mention of his name, perhaps about something Iwaizumi said to Oikawa during training, or a new nickname he threw at him, the latest one being Hanger Bastard. He doesn't know that when the laughs begin erupting from your belly, Oikawa can hear Iwaizumi's name under your breath, choking out as you mumble to yourself, "Fuck, Iwa has to hear this, Iwa HAS to hear this,” just for Iwa to leave wordlessly after setting your bag down, before you can say anything to him.

One of these days, high school senior Iwaizumi Hajime (18) decides that he will do it. He will finally, after years of holding your bag, ask to hold your hand at graduation instead.

Until he overhears you and Oikawa talking as he walks out of the changing rooms, sweaty and sore from volleyball training, his bag hanging off one shoulder.

“Okay, let me do it,” you straighten your posture, looking up at Oikawa.

“Let’s go to grad formal together. Be my plus one.”

And he remembers, this is not his story. It was never his story to begin with, always Oikawa’s. Iwaizumi is only a cameo, an easter egg that’s there to hold you bag every chapter of the way, praying that you will see him lagging behind, waiting for the right time. His steps come to a halt, and the ground squeaks beneath his sneakers, the towel in his hand falling to the floor.

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He snatches the towel off the ground, slinging the other strap of his bag on, and heads out of the gym, ripping his eyes away from staring through Oikawa’s, killing himself off in Oikawa’s story, and in your own. Iwaizumi’s character exits the setting of the gym, just a little too quickly to hear the rest of your conversation.

“Iwa-chan is a little shorter than me, so you’ll probably have a better time trying to reach him if you want.”

“Got it, are you sure I’ll be fine though?”

Oikawa knows this needs to happen. He sees that Iwaizumi has been waiting, his patience never running thin even after five years of holding your bag silently on walks home, dragging behind so Oikawa could have his chance at you instead. He has noticed the glances Iwaizumi takes at your face every time he sets your bag down at your doorstep, softer and gentler than the flipping of pages on a yellowing book, yearning to see more, feel more, know more. Oikawa never needed a chance with you, he never wanted it either, not when all you rambled on about was Iwaizumi’s new nicknames for him, or Iwaizumi’s play on the court, or how Iwaizumi would find some stupid video you saw hilarious, but you never had the chance to show him. The second strap going onto his shoulder is all Oikawa needs to be sure that Iwaizumi is tired of waiting. Which means you have to go, now.

“Go, go after him, now, he’s not too far yet. You got this.”

And so you sprint as quickly as your legs will take you. You run down to the school’s exit, and Iwaizumi is nowhere to be found. Your heart sinks at the possibility that he actually thought you were asking Oikawa to be your date, seeing that he departed the gym soundlessly. Your knees ache and every breath you huff in seems to bruise your lungs a little bit, and you have to stop and hunch over, hands pressed against your knees for stability. Your bag weighs on your shoulders, and you realise you have forgotten how it feels to walk with it on your back, books dragging you down like an anchor in the seabed. You slap your knees, it’s the next corner, and it’s about time you carried your own bag for once anyways.

Iwaizumi is staring at a bouquet of flowers that sits lifelessly on his desk in petals of red and stems of green, contemplating what to do with them, when he hears a knock at his front door.

“Hajime! Someone’s here for you!” His mother yells from downstairs, her words dragging on suggestively as he slumps down to the entrance. You stand at his doorstep, a palm sized journal in one hand and holding the doorframe with the other as your body leans into the wall, face flushed and lowered in exhaustion from the sprint you just took.

“Oh, hey, what are you doi-”

Your head jolts up to meet his eyes, and Oikawa is right. Iwaizumi is a little easier to reach. Your hand shoots out, the journal sticking out temptingly from your fingers. Iwaizumi still thinks this is Oikawa’s story, the one he chose to die in. Yet he takes the journal anyways, unhooking the elastic loop and opening it up.

“21/1- Saw a video of a cat spilling vermicelli everywhere, wanna show Iwa because he’d probably like it.”

“23/1- Chat when will Iwa talk to me on the walk home:(”

“27/1- Oikawa says I should just chat him up but I’m nervous???? what the fuck do i do???”

Lines upon lines of journal entries deck the pages of the book, and Iwaizumi can do nothing but read every single entry, a rush of blood flooding into his head.

“14/4- Iwa invited to me to vball training!! Wonder if i can keep going every day to watch him play…”

“15/4- Why does he go quiet when Oikawa is around:(”

He drops his arm, revealing your face behind the journal. His ears pulse at the sound of his heart in his throat.

“Iwa, let’s go to grad formal together. Wanna be my plus one?”

Shoving the book into your arms, his hand signals for you to stay, and he sprints upstairs, almost tripping over on the hardwood beneath his feet. The bouquet of flowers waits for him at his desk, more lively than ever, and he snatches it into his hand, before stumbling back down the stairs to you. He straightens himself at the door, his windpipe threatening to close.

“Sorry, the hoodie and the sweats aren’t really doing me justice right now.”

You stare at him, who scratches the back of his neck, a bouquet of roses wrapped in coffee stained newspapers in his hand. No, you think, the hoodie and sweats are doing him so much justice.

“I should’ve asked you a long time ago, probably back before junior formal dinner, or at freshman dance night, maybe even playground duty in middle school. Can I make it up to you, and ask you now?”

You nod, crow’s feet threatening to emerge from your cheeks, but you suppress them. Your mouth hangs ajar, not sure what to make of this situation.

“Can I have the honour of being yours?”

“Fuck yeah you can!”

Iwaizumi doesn’t spare a moment, before lifting you up by your underarms and pulling you into himself. From afar, Oikawa watches from his own house on the same block, grinning with pride. You giggle into his shoulder, arms around his neck. It sounds like the beginning of Iwaizumi’s story, maybe something even better than what he imagined.

“Now, do you want me to walk you home? I can take your bag for you.”

“Sure, Iwa.”

And walk you home he does, except he doesn’t hold the strap of your bag on his shoulder with his free hand anymore, finally linking you fingers with his own instead.

author's note:

HEYYYY I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS BB @catsoupki I started it the day you requested but i was so busy that i ended up getting WRITER'S BLOCK UM?? but i had this whole idea i was NOT about to let it get wasted because i couldn't think smh ANYWAYS

hope everyone else liked it too!! i love iwaizume hajime (27) athletic trainer and his hanger bastard too i guess... need someone to be walking out the door with your bags too

and here's the writing playlist!! feel free to add songs into it for me so i can find new artists and write with more inspo!!

anyways tags as usual:

@chuuya-brainrot @fiannee @starlysama @bailey-reeds

ok love u guys bye bye

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #hq iwaizumi #hq oikawa

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sinsandsweetness · 1 year ago

Text

having extremely dirty thoughts about stepdad!Rick, so i thought i’d share…

GOOD MANNERS & DIRTY SECRETS

(stepdad!Rick x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+, use of “daddy”, overstim, vibrator, squirting… u know the drill <3

Imagine Rick snooping through your nightstand, thinking he’ll probably find something fun and naughty, but not realizing it would be a huge, pink, magic wand, tucked way in the back under a couple of vintage playboy magazines. His cock starts to stir in his jeans at the thought of you using it late at night when he’s asleep in the bedroom across the hall. Trying your best to keep quiet, biting your lip and gripping your strawberry patterned pillowcase. Of course, you immediately catch him being a fucking perv, scowling as you reach your bedroom door. About to chew him out for going through your stuff, but you stop yourself. Eyes going wide and swallowing hard when you see your dirty little secret, being turned over and inspected in his palm. Your heart and mind start to race when he looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. Worried that you’ll be in trouble. That he might be angry with you. Well, more so at the fact that you’d been keeping it from him. But he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even give you a second to react before the door is locked and your shorts are on the floor. Your legs pushed right to your chest as he holds you against the plush mattress. With the toy on the highest setting, he presses it right against your clit, over the fabric of your white cotton panties. And you cum so embarrassingly quick that you actually apologize. As if he would mind. As if you needed his permission. And at that thought, along with your pathetic, repetitive, whimpering, “m’ sorry-”, he has to squeeze the base of his cock. Belt already unbuckled and jeans pushed halfway down his ass. He keeps the vibrator on your sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re a squirming mess underneath him. With adorable, little tears, welling up in your innocent eyes. When he notices, he decides to tell you what he what he really thinks. “If you wanna own a fuckin’ toy like this, then you better be able to take it, sweetheart. So cut it out. Enough with the tears, yeah?” And to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t let up when you cum again. Not until you’re physically writhing against his hold, grabbing at his forearm and begging him to stop because you really can’t take it anymore. That’s when he gives you a break. Just long enough to pull your damp panties to the side. A groan slips from his lips at the sight of your picture perfect pussy, all slick and glistening. The wetness that he helped create, sickeningly sweet and starting to drip down your ass. As tempting as a forbidden fucking fruit, he can’t even resist what he does next. Lining his thick, swollen, cock up with your entrance, he pushes in and fucks you hard with the wand back against your clit. Wiping your wet cheeks with his thumb, as your eyes roll back. Your quads starting to shake and twitch at the overstimulation, but you can’t even make out any words to object. Hell, you can barely think, you’re so drunk off his cock. Blissed out from the wand and his attention and his filthy words of praise. Your sweet spot being rammed into with every thrust. “Takin’ it so well, baby. One more. Just one more, sweet girl. I promise.” And he’s trying his hardest not to cum, because lord knows he could have from the sight of you alone. But soon enough, you’re moaning like a damn pornstar, whimpering against his lips as you pull him in close, “Thank you, daddy. Thank you, thank you, thank you-” while you release all over him, soaking the sheets below. And the only thought going through Rick’s mind while he coats your tummy with his pearly, white ribbons, is how fucking precious you are, thanking him for making you squirt all over your stepdads cock.

(this started as a daydream, however I may have gone overboard…)

taglist - (crossed out means I couldn’t tag you) @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy

please feel free to comment/reblog if you enjoy my crazy, filthy thoughts <3

#can’t get over how bad I need this #couldn’t wait for aria to write more stepdad!rick #so here’s this #Rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #twd fanfiction #smut #stepdad!rick #pervy!rick #Rick grimes #twd smut #rick grimes imagines

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formulaforza · 1 year ago

Text

—everywhere, everything

keep my hand in yours ('til our fingers decompose) pairing: daniel ricciardo x female reader warnings: parent death, angst, language, driving under the influence, underage smoking/drinking love, mackie... 6.6k. part two of this guy (but I think can be read stand-alone). I hope I make u all sad enough that you never ask me for a part two ever again <3

I hear you’re snooping around the old stomping grounds. I’d love to be there when you do it. Bring your dad if he’s free. It’ll be a good night, lots of strawberry wine—the real shit this time. All love, (always your) Danny.

— —

Danny is notably absent from your mom’s funeral. Granted, he is in Budapest at the time, and he had two races this weekend. You know this because you still keep tabs on him, even if he’s not yours to keep tabs on anymore, even if there’s nobody to blame for that but yourself.

If you didn’t know better, hadn’t spotted Grace, Joe and Michelle a dozen or so people back in line to greet you and your dad, you would have been able to convince yourself Danny didn’t have a clue your mom was even sick. She went quick, less than eight months from her death sentence to… well. From death sentence to death.

Two hundred and thirty-one days since her diagnosis means two-hundred and twenty-eight days since you broke things off with Danny. So even if he was in town, you probably wouldn’t have seen him. You wish you would have though, that he would have appeared in the plethora of grieving faces. Not for you, but for her. She always loved him, even before you did.

Grace’s arms feel like the light at the end of a dark tunnel when she finally gets to the front of the line. She squeezes you tight, the only way a mother knows how to, and you cry in her arms. Grace doesn’t tell you how sorry she is, or that your mom loved you so much, or that she’s in a better place now. She just hugs you and wipes away your tears.

“Danny wishes he could be here,” she tells you, but you don’t want to think about him and you don’t want to believe her.

“Tell him I said ‘thank you?’” you say, a forced smile on your face. It’s got to be the hundredth of the afternoon. If there’s one thing your mom is—was. If there’s one thing she was, it’s loved. Tell him I hate him, is what you wish you could say to Grace. Or maybe tell him I love him.

A million and two hugs later and you find yourself missing his arms more than you should. He was always a good hugger, and you could use a good hug right now.

— —

You showed up at the property fifteen minutes after the event started. You’d hoped to slip in and out, to at least be able to say you went, that you tried. You had no intention of trying to find Daniel, and you figured it would be easy to avoid him, especially if you showed up after everyone else did—it’s his show, he’s the man of the hour, everyone will be fighting for his attention.

You don’t even know why you came, really. Maybe it’s to figure out how the hell Daniel even got your address to send the invite in the first place. You’d moved half a dozen times since he last knew you. Or maybe it’s that you don’t believe, even after seeing it with your own eyes, that somebody actually had success with growing berries in the heat. It could be that you just… It could be simple, that you miss your Mom, and that everything about that place reminds you of her.

Whatever the reason, you put on a long, flowing sundress, tied your hair back, and slipped on a pair of comfortable sneakers and a denim jacket. You didn’t even bother to tell your Dad—knew he’d want to catch up with Daniel, or maybe want to strangle Daniel. You didn’t want to give him the chance to do either. You park on the dirt road that leads to the vineyard, because the parking lot is overflowing, a pattern you’re beginning to notice since he’d taken over.

The place looks the same as it did last time you were here. DR3 Wines still adorn the fleet of ATVs out front, and the wooden letters on the perfectly red barn are still perfectly white. You give your name to the woman working the door, regret it as soon as you catch her announcing your presence over the radio-headset she wears.

Momentarily, you consider turning around and walking right back to your car. But, you aren’t one to waste a good outfit, not if you’d gotten all dolled up like this, so you walk into the Barn with your head down.

It smells the same inside; wood, lavender, citronella and alcohol. There’s candles burning to make it feel cozy, but they do a poor job at changing the aroma in the air. The walls are still hung with photos, and the counter is still that slab of wood. It’s exactly the same as it was a few months ago, and manages to remind you of the place you grew up without wearing your childhood memories like a costume.

Daniel has always been easy to find in a room. He’s loud, his voice and his laugh vibrate off the walls of whatever room he’s in. He’s loud and he’s confident and sometimes it feels like he’s the only person in a room that’s really alive. That’s how it felt then, at least.

It’s been thirteen years since you last shared a space with him, but the fact you can hear his laugh on the other side of the crowded room assures you that while everything has changed, some things have stayed exactly the same.

You can’t see him, but man can you hear him.

You sign the guest book—proof, in case anybody asks. Proof that you did show up. It’s the top of a wine barrel, DR3 2023 branded into the oak—two tops, because so many people are here. It’s covered in signatures and messages from people he loves. You feel guilty even signing it, but you do.

Congrats Dan—your marker pauses. You scoff at yourself. Congrats Daniel. Time flies, 13 years! The place looks beautiful. Wishing you continued success, you write, finishing it off with your signature.

He still wears the same cologne, you realize, when you look up and he’s leaning against the table watching you write. He wears the same cologne, and the same smile, even if less crooked. Everything else about him is different. His hair is shorter, eyes older. His arms are covered in art, face is all together thinner, and his five o’clock shadow is less of a pipe dream and more of a full-fledged beard. He’s taller, maybe. Or you’re shorter. It doesn’t really matter, you suppose.

You purse your lips into a curt smile. He matches—you didn’t even know he could smile like that. “Hi, honey,” he says, leaning over to read your message.

“Hi.” “Who’s Daniel?” He teases, the smile on his face growing into one you’re much more familiar with. You look back at your writing, but you don’t laugh. If anything, you’re sure you look a little scared. “I’m teasing.”

“I know,” you nod.

“Okay,” he nods right back, slow, apprehensive over your apprehension.

“Sorry,” you force out a chuckle. “I’m being so weird,” and you adjust the strap on your dress. He shoves his hands in his pocket, rocks back and forth on the sole of his shoes. Do you know how weird it is to be face to face with someone you were head over feet in love with? It’s really fucking weird. You put your best smile on your face, “Hi, sorry,” you continue, opening your arms for what you think might be the most awkward hug you’ve ever given.

He’s quick to pull his hands back out of his pocket, like he’s worried if he doesn’t act fast enough you’re going to rescind the offer.

His touch is uncanny; familiar and comforting and unsettling. It melts the years away and you feel just like you did some twelve years ago when you wished so desperately for one of his hugs. You’re nineteen again, and he’s twenty, and everything feels like it’s going to be okay.

“How are you,” he asks quietly, his arms tight around you. “You look great.”

“I’m okay,” you say over his shoulder, and then again, as if you’re trying to convince yourself: “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Oh, y’know,” he shrugs, pulling away from the hug, gesturing your question away. “Same old, same old.”

“Yeah,” you nod, even though you don’t know. Even though it’s been eleven years since you forced yourself to ignore his existence, since you last kept any sort of tab on him. You can’t get over how different he looks. How you’d still recognize him without a second glance. “You look different.”

He laughs, looks down at himself. At his arms, his hands. He can’t look at his face, but it’s different, too. “Yeah, I guess so, huh?” He keeps looking back at you every time he laughs. He makes sure you’re laughing, or smiling at least, before he lets his slip. “Is your Dad here?”

“No. He uh, he wasn’t feeling well.”

Once upon a time, Daniel could spot your lies from the other side of the vineyard. You get stiff and stuttery, he told you, it’s easy when you know what you’re looking for. That was once upon a time, though, and this is now. Now, you don’t know if Daniel remembers any of those little things about you.

His eyes go momentarily soft, worried, almost. “Just a cold, yeah?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, can I get you a drink? Give you a tour?”

You look around the place—not much to tour. Not when it used to be yours, not when one of his teenaged employees gave you a tour a few months back. He seems so excited about the idea, though, so you go along with it. “Sure. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Nice, awesome,” he says, looking around the place like he forgot where everything is. He claps his hands together, pulls them apart into a snap, and points at you with both hands. “Stay here? I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you chuckle, and it’s genuine. “Staying here.”

“I know you, Bee,” he says, walking backwards away from you. B. He totally knows you’re full of shit about your Dad having a cold. “Don’t try to sneak out while I’m gone.”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?”

You nod. “I promise.”

— —

You, Daniel, and your Mom worked the closing shift that night. When he was around, that’s almost always how it went, because the two of you were the only ones who’d worked there long enough to know how to properly close up without a babysitter.

Your Mom worked tediously in the office counting all the money—she was the slower counter of your parents, but it wasn’t like anyone was ever sitting around waiting on her. There was always something to be done, and Daniel was always good at making sure those closing tasks took up more than a chunk of the evening.

You’d cleaned inside, swept the floors and vacuumed the rugs and cleaned the tables and the counters. You washed glasses behind the bar and restocked displays. The landline on the counter rang while you were writing up the day’s inventory, and you almost didn’t answer it, but your parents had told you to improve on your customer-service skills, even when you or the customer weren’t on site.

To your surprise, the voice on the other end was Daniel’s. He was calling from the cellar, is too lazy to come over there to get shot down. “Is your Mom finished counting?” He asked, and you pulled the phone away from your ear to try and listen past the office door.

“I think so,” you say, bringing the phone back to your ear. “We should be heading out soon.”

Sometimes you feel like you can hear Danny’s smile. “You wanna do the lock check with me?”

You slot the phone between your shoulder and your ear, returning your hands to the task of finishing up your paperwork for the night. You needed to be done when he got here, or there was no chance your Mom let you go with him. “How do you know I’m done with my shit?”

You can hear the lull of the old beat up golf-cart engine in the background, can almost feel the vibrations, can see clear as day Danny sitting there, lounging on the leather seat—tanned skin, unruly hair, toothy grin. “You always finish fast so you can daydream about your boyfriend,” he says, turning the last word into his own little sing-songy ballad.

Your pen pauses on the paper, and you roll your eyes. “Jake isn’t my boyfriend.”

Danny laughs, and you roll your eyes again, pretend like you aren’t smiling. “Oh? But you knew who I was talking about!”

“Because you never shut up about him being into me.”

“Because he is!”

You set the pen down for good, now, grab the phone again because you want to make sure your next words come across loud and clear, even if it is the millionth time you’ve told him. “He’s my friend, Danny!”

“Oh, come on!” His laugh intensifies. “I don’t think a guy has ever been just friends with you.”

“You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

His laughter quells, and you’re sure he’s picking on the plastic of the steering wheel. There are so many scrapes on it from the same thing. He’s always picking at it, ever since you told him to give his poor nails a rest. He has to destroy something, you suppose—teenage boy and all—but you prefer a destroyed golf cart steering wheel to a destroyed Danny, so you let it slide. He sighs, and then he clears his throat, and the memory of your question dies in the silence. “Are you coming with me or not?”

“Are you coming to get me?”

— —

The air is chilly—nippy almost, especially with the sun dipping below the horizon like it is. You’re walking stride for stride with Daniel over the gravel path to the cellar, glass of sweet pink wine in your hand. He’s taking you to the strawberry field, per your request, because even after tasting it, even after telling you which field it’s in, you still don’t believe him.

“So,” he asks, one hand deep in his pocket, the other hanging in the space between your bodies. He’s very hesitant with you today, you’ve noticed. It’s nothing like the brash boy you called your first love. He’s gentle, softer, like he’s scared of his next words. “Who finally put that ring on your finger?” The threat of a smile is weak, but the idea of it alone is charming.

You look at your free hand, carefully decorated with several different rings. “Which one?”

He drops his head to his shoulder, gives you a pathetic smile and a matching chuckle. “The only one an ex-boyfriend would ask you about, Bee.”

The sunlight—the little bit that’s left of it—catches the diamond on your ring finger. “Oh,” you shrug, dropping it back to your side. “It’s Mom’s.”

“I know,” he nods solemnly, and your head shoots over to look at him. You don’t know why he would remember that. “Who put it there, though?”

A smile pulls on your lips, and you bury it in the lip of your wine glass. “I’m not engaged, if that’s what you’re asking,” you laugh. “I just wear it… I don’t know, it makes me feel close to her.”

Sunsets at the property have always been gorgeous. When you were younger, you thought that maybe it was the most beautiful place in the entire world. The blues and the pinks and the yellows all mix together into some grand watercolor and tonight is no exception.

The silence that lingers in the air should be awkward, but it’s not. It should be harder to be here, to watch the sunset, to walk the paths you have memorized, to stand next to Daniel after all these years. It’s not hard, though. It’s comfortable, like it was when you were sixteen and seventeen and eighteen and barely nineteen. Like it was all the time you knew him, even before you loved him.

“I’m sorry,” he finally speaks. “She was really cool.”

You chuckle softly. It’s a familiar routine, consoling those attempting to console you about her death. “That’s what everyone says,” you say, even though Daniel might be the first person to posthumously describe your mom as cool. Lovely, you’d gotten more times than you could count. Beautiful and kind and oh honey, she loved you so much, you knew already. She was really cool, that’s a Danny-original if you’ve ever heard one.

“I should have been at the funeral.”

“It’s okay,” you nod, because his presence wouldn’t have changed that your Mom was lovely and beautiful and kind and that she wasn’t around to be any of those things anymore. There wasn’t anything Daniel could have done to remedy that reality. “You were busy. We weren’t together,” and before he can come back with something, insists that it’s a bigger deal some decade later than it was, you change the subject. “What about you, though? Putting rings on anyone’s fingers these days?”

He laughs. A person can only get poetic about Daniel’s laugh so many times before it’s easier to just leave it at that. He laughs, everyone around him lights up, and he laughs some more. “Believe it or not, my work-life balance isn’t super great at fostering long-term relationships.”

You don’t exactly know what Daniel’s work-life balance looks like. The last time you paid any attention, he was racing with Toro Rosso. Every update you’d heard since had been one you weren’t looking for—commercials and posters and billboards and word-of-mouth; more than a couple ex-boyfriends and a few stray friends.

You never cared much about racing. It was Daniel you cared about.

There aren't a lot of specifics you remember about Daniel’s schedule, but you remember that he was almost always coming or going. There wasn’t much staying, and that was before he’d even made it to the big show. “You mean, women like it when their partners are around for most of the year?”

“They do, yeah,” he nods, dimples digging into his cheeks. “Crazy, right?”

“Crazy.”

— —

Danny didn’t go down without a fight. He caught what had to have been the first flight home—home, you’re not sure that he can call Perth home now that he doesn’t live here. He caught the first flight to you, threw wood chips at your window at three-in-the morning. He didn’t need to wake you up, it’s been two weeks since you had any kind of meaningful sleep. You spend the majority of your time in bed looking at the ceiling fan spin or staining the sheets with your tears.

You let him throw mulch for twenty minutes though, hoping that maybe he’ll give up and leave so you don’t have to face him.

You’d done the breaking up over the phone for a reason. It wasn’t that you couldn’t wait until whenever he was home next. You could. It was that you couldn’t break up with him while looking him in the eyes, and you knew it.

Eventually, though, you pull your pajama-clad frame out from under the warm covers, drag your feet the entire way to the window, pulling the curtains open just enough to confirm what you already knew—that it was him in the driveway. His entire face relaxes when he sees you there, forcing the window open. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the fuck am I doing?” He scoffs. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You cross your arms over your chest. The night air is cold and your pajamas are scarce. “I’m trying to sleep.”

He rolls his eyes, always dramatic, always over-the-top. “Come down here, honey.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You stand there in silence, shivering in your bedroom window. He stands there in silence, thick jacket on and a handful of wood chips from the garden in your driveway. It’s a stalemate, and you don’t know which of you is more exhausted. Appearance points to him, but you dread that fact that you’re standing, that you’re tired enough to give up the fight this quick.

“Fine,” you relent, and it’s less than two minutes before you’re running into him on the back porch, slowly closing the sliding patio door behind you so as to not alert anyone else in the house of his presence. “What do you want?”

“Where are your clothes?” He asks, and is already taking his coat off to wrap around your frame. You huff and puff the entire time he’s doing it, because your lack of clothing was a choice—you were hopeful that he wouldn’t keep you long if you were shivering.

“What do you want, D?”

“I want you to talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

Your lip trembles, and you bite down on it to try and stop it, chew on the skin until you taste copper and then it still trembles. You don’t look at him, you can’t. “You can’t fix it.”

“No, no,” he argues, grabbing your elbow in a plea, stepping closer to you, speaking hardly above a whisper. “Just tell me, baby.”

You yank your arm away, tone a direct contrast to his when you insist: “You can’t fix it this time, okay!? Nobody can fix it.” You point an accusatory finger, like there’s actually something he’s done to deserve this. There isn’t, there never will be. “You can’t fucking fix everything just because you want to.”

He matches, points his finger at you, presses it into the middle of your chest. Your heart races. “You can’t just fucking break up with me because you want to.”

You swat his hand away, offended by the accusation that you wanted this, that any part of you is enjoying this, finding relief in this. You hate this. Fucking loathe it, but it doesn’t change any of the facts. “I don’t want to,” your lips downturn into a frown, all pathetic and trembled, and your voice cracks and shakes half as much as your lips. The tears that burn in your eyes are reflected back in his, tired and bloodshot and wet.

“Then don’t do it,” he pleads.

You gulp around the lump in your throat, voice leaving your body meekly through tears. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t,” he assures you quickly, his hands slotting on either side of your face, the pads of his thumbs wiping your tears, his fingers locking into the hair at the nape of your neck. He shakes his head before he speaks, brown eyes searching yours, begging you to change your mind. “You don’t.”

His hands on your face are what push you over the edge, turn you from poised and sniffly to half-wrecked—choking on sobs and swallowing snot. It all hits you at once, all the weeks of testing, the days of trying to come to terms with a diagnosis, the hours spent grappling with the fact that nothing will ever be the same about you. You’re changed, now, and you’re only going to continue to change. It’s not Daniel’s responsibility to see you through any of this fucking shit. “I do, I do,” you sob. “I have to, I’m so sorry, I have to.”

He presses his forehead against yours, your tears mixing with his every time your noses bump. It calms you, if only slightly, and your eyes close, mind focused on remembering this, on remembering what it feels like to have his skin on yours, to feel his voice in your bones, to breathe in the same air, the same space, the same atoms.

Your breath is shaky, but the pattern is steady. In, out. In, out. Your nose is so stuffed you can’t breathe through it. Your lips are all but touching his, a stray tremble holding the power to force them together. You don’t know if you want to kiss him or not, if it would make things better or so much worse.

He swallows hard, pulling your faces apart. “I love you,” he mutters softly, like a wounded animal, and then he presses a long, hard kiss into your forehead.

You sniffle, your hands holding onto his wrists. “I’m sorry.”

He nods, drops his arms, your hands falling into his. “Yeah.”

He lets your hands go, lets you go. You feel like you might be sick watching him walk down the steps of the patio, along the path of pavers to the gate. A shiver runs up your spine, and you pull his jacket closed over your chest. His jacket.

You wipe a new set of tears from your cheek with the back of your hand. “Your jacket,” you sniffle, “hold on.”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even turn back to face you. “Keep it,” he says, unlatching the gate and slipping through to the other side. You sigh, and then you cough, and then you cry some more before finally finding the ability to move again, to go back inside and up to your bedroom, and that was that. That was the last time you saw Danny. The last moment that he was yours.

— —

You’re walking back from the unbelievable strawberry field, quickly approaching the still lively barn, people and smiles and conversations pouring out into the adjacent spaces. Someone appears in front of you with a camera, with two cameras—one professional, and one a cheap polaroid. Smile, they said, and you laughed, your cheeks burning red.

Daniel slinks his arm over your shoulder, and you step closer to his side. He flashes a toothy grin and a shaka sign to the camera. You hear the shutter of the camera take a dozen photos, and then the photographer holds up the polaroid—one for the road, she says, and Daniel pulls you that little bit closer, you blush that little bit harder.

There’s a flash, and then you both relax, the photo printing out of the bottom of the camera. She holds it out Daniel, but he nudges you with his elbow to take it. You do, even though you aren’t sure you want it.

You shake the polaroid while the two of you make your way into the barn. “What do I do with this?” You ask, looking carefully at the developed print.

Daniel shrugs, leaning over. You flip the photo in his direction so he doesn’t have to lean as far, but he still does. “It’s cute,” he says. “You don’t want it?”

“I mean, I’ll take it, but…” But. But I’m going to throw it away when I get home. But it only reminds me of you. But it only represents what won’t be.

He looks to the wall of photos behind the counter, eyeing the display carefully. You follow his sight line, your eyes going to the exact place you remember the photos of you being. You don’t know why you’re surprised that they’re still there, like you knowing they exist means they’d vanish. “Hang it up,” he says.

You laugh. “Where?”

Daniel shrugs. “Anywhere you want.”

— —

The best part about only being able to afford cheap workers, was that you spent every day at the property with a new teenager looking to have just as much fun as you were. Between that, and the plethora of college kids that were constantly leaving to go back to school, to get a grown-up job, to get any job that paid more than your family could offer—there was always an opportunity for going away parties. And party, you did.

You and your coworkers turned friends had slept down by the river more summer nights than you could count, hiding six-packs in the staff locker-room and hiding ziploc bags of joints behind the six-packs.

Tonight, the going-away party is to honor someone whose face you won’t remember in a year, much less thirteen. He’d worked there for the holidays and not much more, and there wasn’t much memorable about him.

The bonfire on the back of the property snaps and crackles, sparking off into the night and lights everyone in flickers of orange and yellow. The breeze has picked up after dark, and the tank-top and shorts you’d donned earlier in the day aren’t appropriate any more, one of Danny’s hoodies—a purple one that sits in his locker just for you to steal and smells like weed and wood from all the past nights just like this one—takes the chill out of the night and keeps the goosebumps off your exposed legs.

The sky is clear and cloudless, a big moon staring back at you and a million shining stars fill the night sky. It’s times like these you think there’s no prettier place on Earth, nights like these where you feel completely rich.

Two joints are being passed around the circle lazily, laughter and conversation filling the air. The first one comes your way from the left, from Daniel. He takes a long hit, the embers at the end of the paper burning orange with his inhale. He holds it in, nodding his way through someone else’s joke, and exhaling into a laugh.

He looks at you, hesitates to hand it over. “I really don’t want a lecture from your parents tomorrow morning,” he teases, playful smile pulling on his lips, mischievous glint in his eye.

You roll your eyes. “They won’t know,” you insist, to no avail. Daniel chuckles, but holds his resolve and passes the joint around you to the next person.

Undeterred, you keep your eyes on the joint that moves clockwise, that comes to you from the other direction, a path with no Danny-sized roadblock. With practiced ease, you take a hit, exhaling slowly, savoring the warmth in your chest. You meet Danny’s eyes on exhale, find them half-amused and half-concerned, brows raised and smile drawn.

“Whatcha got there?” He laughs, gently taking the joint from her. “I told you not to,” he continues, taking a hit himself before passing it along again. You grin, a wave of giddiness washing over you. It always goes like that when he laughs—makes you all warm and fuzzy and silly.

“It’ll be okay, Danny-boy,” you laugh, leaning against him. Lazily, without hesitation, he tosses his arm over your shoulder and pulls you that much closer. You like being closer, can feel his laugh instead of just hearing it. You like the way his arm rests on your shoulder, the way his fingers trace patterns over the fabric of his sweatshirt, every touch echoing on your skin for minutes. You like being close, even if it makes your palms a little sweatier and your heartbeat a little faster. You could get used to being closer, you think.

The fire is starting to die out now, and the air gets colder. You wonder how long your parents waited up for you to get home. The original excuse was that Daniel had forgotten the lock-check, that you wanted to come along and really, it’s no problem to drive her home. After about fifteen minutes, you’d snuck away from the newly-built fire to make a phone call, to let them know you were grabbing food on the way home and don’t wait up for me. You’re sure they did, though, even if only for a while longer.

Anyway, the air is colder and the joints have been smoked through and the beers have been drunk—not by you, you’re too messy when you’re crossed. And not by Daniel, either, who refuses to drive drunk but insists on driving high.

You yawn under Daniel’s arm, find a way to somehow lean in closer. “Sleepy?” he asks, and you nod. Carefully, like he’s done it a million times before, he presses a kiss into the crown of your head. It’s not the millionth time, it’s not even the second time he’s kissed any part of you. It’s the first time you've felt the press of his lips and you think that you’ll feel it there forever. “You wanna go?”

“No,” you say. “I’ll stay, make sure the fire gets out and everything.”

It’s not much longer, anyway, until the fire is being doused with water bottles and beer and everyone is taking turns spraying the same perfumes and colognes over their clothes in a poor attempt to mask the smell of smoke and weed.

Daniel drives you home. It’s not the first time you’ve been the passenger in his old Ford Bronco. It’s not even the first time you’ve been in the truck while he was high. Usually, car rides with Danny consist of cranked down windows and loud music, of louder conversations and excessive laughter. This drive is quiet, though.

His hands are steady on the wheel, eyes focused on the road ahead. There’s no music, the windows are up, and he doesn’t talk. You watch him carefully from the passenger seat, study him in your paranoia. You haven’t done anything, you don’t think. There’s no reason for him to be mad at you. Unless there is.

“Did you have a good time?” You ask. Danny nods. “That’s good.”

He turns to face you at a stop sign. “Sorry,” he laughs. “I’m trying to focus.”

“It’s okay,” you nod.

“It’s harder,” he explains. “It’s hard with you here.”

— —

The evening you’d anticipated is far from the evening that unfolds. Fifteen minutes, maximum, in and out. That was the plan. But then Daniel—Daniel, and all the far-fetched dreams of him making himself at home in your life, all the passing thoughts you’d had over the years about the what-ifs; the grocery bills and the taxes and the white wine and the rusty barn doors. He glues you to his side for hours that feel like minutes.

The event is winding down, people keep coming up to him, firm pats on the back and handshakes and hugs goodbye. They tell him how great the place is, how great the wine is, how great he is, and you move around like his shadow, smiling awkwardly whenever someone catches your eye and waiting for the next joke Daniel has to crack quietly, just to you.

You stand at a high-table next to him, elbows on the tabletop, shoulders bumping everytime one of you moves. There were people around the table, a reason—an excuse—for the proximity, but they’re long gone now. “You know,” Daniel says quietly, dropping his head against his hands, speaking to nobody in the room but you. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

“Yeah,” you nod, speak just as softly. “Me too.”

He takes a long drink from the wine glass in front of him. Liquid courage, you know now, for what he was going to do next. The glass returns to the tablecloth with a soft pat, and he lets out a heavy exhale. “I heard there’s a new coffee place opening in Northbridge?” He asks, and you assume it’s because he knows your neighborhood, wants to know more about it. The wine has made you naive, or maybe you’d just pushed the reality of his implication so far from your mind that it’s an impossible thought.

“Yeah,” you nod. The new coffee shop in Northbridge is a seven minute walk from your apartment, and is on your way to work. You’ve been eyeing the place since the empty building went up for lease. “It’s got this super cute bakery right next door,” you add. “I think they opened last week.”

Daniel nods. “I’d love to try it out.”

“Yeah,” you continue, still genuine and naive and oh-so silly. “You should. I’ve heard good things.”

He laughs, then. Laughs this specific kind of Daniel laugh that you used to get so excited to hear. It meant he was going to do something for—or to—you. He’d laughed like that before he kissed you for the first time, and he’d laughed like that while orange juice ran down his arm and he asked you out for the hundredth time. He’d laughed like that on every anniversary, every birthday, every holiday. It’s Danny’s you laugh. “I’d need someone to go with, though,” he says. And the laugh and the words and the whole thing clicks. Daniel is trying to ask you out. “I don’t really know my way around Northbridge.”

A lie, objectively. One that confirms the assumption you’d just jumped to. Daniel’s first apartment was in Northbridge. He lived eleven minutes from where you live now. He knows the place like the back of his own hand, knows the streets like he used to know you.

You nod into the bottom of your wine glass, watching the liquid spin around the clear glass. “You don’t?”

He purses his lips, looks all deep in thought. “No,” he shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“Oh,” you frown, your eyes meeting his. It’s really hard to mess with him when he looks at you like that. Hard, but not impossible. “My dad’s usually around.”

He chuckles. “Your dad, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, a smile pulling impossibly hard on your lips. “Retirement and all, you know.”

“Oh, sure.”

“I guess…” you shrug, stop spinning your glass and set it down altogether. You push it slowly across the tablecloth towards the center. “I could always show you around, too.”

He leans back, stands up straight and scratches his beard, makes a piss-poor attempt at wiping the dimpled smile off his face when he cocks his head to the side and says, “As much as I like your dad…”

“As much as you like my dad.”

And, because Daniel was never really Daniel, because he’s always going to be your Danny, no matter the time or the distance or anything else that should get in the way, he says: “You’ve always been my honeybee.”

— —

“Don’t call me that, Mom,” you shouted from the office, gathering your morning gear. You were working tours with Danny, today, and the two of you had spent all morning bickering over who gets to be lead and who has to be secondary guide. While you shoved the batteries into the walkie-talkies, you could overhear Danny successfully pleading with your Mom. Honeybee, she’d called out to you. Let Danny take Lead today, won’t you?

She laughs. You roll your eyes, slipping behind the counter where she leans, where Danny lounges on a stool. You toss Danny’s walkie at his chest, and he catches it before it hits him. She raises her brows pointedly, meets Danny’s eyes in some shared language, a shared silent remark about you. “Why not?”

“Because. It sounds like something Grandma would say.”

Your mom smiles, twirls the end of your ponytail around her finger. “But you’re so sweet”

Danny chokes on his laugh, shooting up straight in his seat to clear his throat, to cough into his elbow. “She is NOT sweet.”

You scowl, shove his shoulder gently. It only makes him, and your mom, laugh harder. “Hey!”

“You make my life sweet, baby girl,” she hums.

Danny nods, falling back into his comfortable spot, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re kinda like a bee,” he says, leaning back even further. Your entire day would be made by him losing his balance and falling flat on his ass. “You make her life sweet but for me…” he pauses. “You’re just this annoying little buzzing I can’t shoo away.”

Silently, you hold up both middle fingers to him, walking backwards out from behind the counter, towards the back door. Your mom only laughs at you, always laughs at you and Danny. “Love you, Bee,” she calls to you, and winks at Danny.

“Yeah,” he calls, the stool creaking underneath him as he properly stands up. “Love ya, Bee!”

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rosemarie333 · 2 months ago

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Astro Opinion(Vedic Sextologyyyy 🔞)

I should be sleep but at the same time I can’t because I want to do this one HEHEHEHE

Please do not read if under the age of 18.

ANYWAYSSSS this is my own opinion. All women are safe and sound here but not necessarily for the menzies LMAO sn sn all is welcomed buttttt my opinion is strong so beware. Also I am not well versed in astrology that well but I’m using my own opinion from my experiences with others soo hehe let’s get started!

I’m writing this and tbh I feel like a weird energy when saying this like someone is sitting my stomach and i feel like spinny like IMMA SPEAK WITH MY CHEST STOP IT SPIRIT

1. NOWWWWW girlie don’t ever get me started on a jupiterian man. They are the ones with the biggest THANGS ever but every one that i met doesn’t know how to rock the boat. Like how god bless u with a big one yet you not don’t nun?????? PLEASEEEEE help me. I remember my first ex who was a vishakha moon, uttara bhadprapada sun and jythesta rising like you would think he’d know what to do but baby no. LIKEEEEEEEEEEEE it was so many times i would leave unsatisfied and i don’t know why i kept going back😭😭😭😭. AND we had 7th house synastry AND FUCKING 5th house (well i did to him and my venus was in his 7th) and it still wasn’t good lol idk what lies i’ve been told but bitch 8th house synastry is where it’s at FUCK THE 5th ( i’m kidding LMAOOO)

2. Martian Men, please dm me🙏🏾. I know some people can’t handle the aggression and tbh i can handle it to an extent but like at the same time i love aggression (i’m a krittika sun and venus in kritikka in as my ak in my D9 which i’m not proud abt but I LIKE AGGRESSION). I had a fling with a Dhanishtha sun and Pushya moon man and omg it was great. I also watched Claire Natiki (love her!) where she talks about ashleshas wanting to be dominated and advising us to try martian people bc they have warmth to them we don’t have LMAO bc yk where serpents and we have this cold coiled energy which was SPOT ON BITCH he made me feel some thangs and really took me out of my shell. Too bad he was immature and he wanted to fit in with losers. i think he was a uttara phlanguni rising.

3. Moon men count your days. Y’all are so fucking conservative just like the ladies and for what? I dated a chitra sun man with a magha moon and i think ashlesha rising with a hasta venus and here i am reading that debilitating or fall placements do better than the exalted or the other one and BITCH WHERE WAS THAT IN HIM! LMAO LIKE his whole thing around sex was very tip toey and i respect that he wasn’t necessarily domineering and things but he wasn’t so nice to me in the sexual topic of things. i can attest i wasn’t the best either as reassuring him and i wasn’t perfect in the relationship 😭😭😭(bc i’m a sexual person he felt that i would cheat on him like nigga wtf u mean u cheated on everyone you have been like BE SCARED OF URSELF TF!) anyways he cheated on me and ghosted me after i stupidly took him back so💀 even i’m lunar dominant and i can be conservative at times but tbh i can’t and could never hide the fact that i’m a sexual girly 🤷🏾‍♀️. once i taught him what i liked it did get so much better tho ngl😋

4. Saturn mennn i have a love hate relationship with y’all likeeee very dominant which is what i like but y’all also sassy like how that works? LMAO

Never had an experience with solar men but they are very egotistical and yk CHEATERS so

Mercurial men idkkkkkkk i haven’t experienced any one of y’all so YALL SAFE or venusian men that i remember LMAO. But venusian men are def the type to fuck the baddest in the room for the status LMAO imo idk.

As someone with a sun DK and saturn AK lol 😭def a pattern i see but overall i think i had the best experiences with martian men tbh hehehe hbu y’all! (would love to hear other’s experiences)

#astro opinion #vedic astro observations

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ravers8fantasy · 2 months ago

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🎶Disco kid headcanon's!!🪩

Honestly, one of the realest ones in all the circuits I fear...

ALSO HE IS 20 AND 6'3??? I thought he was 19...

Okay so turns out bro is 20 so I think he joined when he was 18 or 19

Sings proper flipping loudly in the shower, its a good thing he's good at singing

Will listen to anything, he is more of a melody person than a lyrics person

Has a drawer full of listening devices, he has like 5 pairs of headphones and so many speakers

Had a swag era in highschool (is still kinda in his swag era but remix)

Sometimes shows up to W.B.V.A meetings in full on 70s attire for fun. Im talking silk shirt and high waisted l bell bottoms

Usually catches everyone off guard as well since they are used to seeing him in more modern outfits (im basing these hcs around 2009 and perchance 2010s idk they change on my mood)

Can handle spicy food pretty well.... Even though he ate a singular taki one time and perished

I saw in his contender mode intro cutscene that his licence plate is custom made (its DISCO-1) which made me think he decorates his car

Like he has a pair of fuzzy dice hanging off the mirror in the front, has like stickers on the dashboard and has like custom made seats-

Also theres this nice looking house in the background with this music note gate, either he is rich or his parents are rich

Or is that normal for people in America to have a house like that, I live in an old af house in Scotland so I defo wouldnt know💀

His favourite color is blue, or pink, or mabye yellow and orange but then again he is a sucker for kitsch patterns-

He loves colour. Ik his ass would HATE to see maximalist antique homes turned into an all white sleek mininalist abyss

Is a beast at roller skating, has a pair of blue and yellow ones with little stars all over.

Hates roller blading tho he says 3 he cant dance properly in them which makes him sad

His hair is originally brown, saw someone at a party with buzzed bleached hair and thought it was so cool he decided to get the same thing

Does calisthenics, has been asked a bunch of questions by other boxers asking him how tf he does it

HATES furbies, had one when he was younger and he put it in a draw in his bedroom after it didnt shut up.

He woke up in the middle of the night to a voice asking to be fed and started crying, turns out it was the flippin furby inside the draw

Has the most perfect comedic timing ever, there is never a dull moment when your with Disco kid

Suprsingly doesnt mind horror films, his fave genre list would probably go 1.horror/thriller 2.Action 3.drama/romance

He was a tumbler in his high school's cheer team and did ballroom for a bit, has a bunch of trophies from cheer and competitive ballroom dancing

Loves going down to a deli and getting a sandwich, usually gets a new filling combination everytime he goes

Has the most amazing wardrobe out of all the boxers, I like to think he is like the 'lewis hamilton' of the W.B.V.A (in terms of style not boxing bless also YALL LEWIS HAMILTONS FASHION SENSE IS SO😼😼😼)

The type of guy who never shuts up when watching a film, he literally ends up narrating the whole thing

Literally never stops moving, if he is standing on the spot he will be tapping his foot or move his head to whatever beat is playing in his head

Also like as no beef or issues with any of the other boxers, some of them (Aran... Wait and perchance idk Soda and stuff yknow) might insult him and would just dance and say "ok! Thats your opinion, Not mine though I think im fabulous anyway"

Chat im giggling at this gif anyway if you see any mistakes in grammer please embarass me and call me out and I will correct it with the utmost haste😼

OK HOPE YALL ENJOYED GOODNIGHT (or good morning or uh good day or evening depending on where u are)

#punch out #punch out wii #Punch out!!#Disco kid #punch out headcanons #PARTY ROCK??? PARTY ROCKERS IN THE WHAT?#Omg I just had an epiphany #If i was a boxer my name would be party rock....

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tubeon · 1 year ago

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wouls you be ok if we used your spider-gayatri design for our villain!pavitr au? in that universe gayatri is spiderwoman.

basically i would give credit to you for the design at the beginning of the fic, and in the fix i would describe gayatri’s spider outfit using your design

its 100% fine if not btw /genuine

Ooooh!!! Ofc!! I'd love to read when you're finished !! Allow me to go a bit into detail of her desiiign

What she's wearing here is a Dhoti Saree! It's a lot of clothes for a spider person but trust me she has it secured lol.

The pattern across her arms and hands are inspired by jewelry, looking like leafy vines (its messy and probably hard to see that I thought I'd clarify) with her spider symbol decorated like FLOWERY vines. (Spot the blue lines under her arms bc I wanted to jab at miles somehow)

Her mask is based off of a blackbuck! And I wanted to incorporate her casual choker somewhere so theres that too :]] also red bindi to imply that she is practically already married to Pavitr so she may as well wear it !!!

TAKE THIS ALL WIFH A GRAIN OF SALT HOWEVER u are the writer, u can interpret and write her design however u want as long as u are respectful . Teehee :3

#podart

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kasdan · 1 year ago

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Hi! I’ve never done a request before but I would love something with Carol Danvers and stargazing with her? It can be whatever feels right to you (fluff, smut ect) 🫶

marvel masterlist

a/n: this request is so cutee!! i apologize that it took me so long to do and it’s not the longest, i didn’t put much plot into it, but i hope you enjoy anon!!<3

pairing: carol danvers x gn!reader

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, no use of y/n, not proofread

word count: 0.7k

Carol always loved looking up at the night sky and everything it had to offer. Even before she was able to fly up into them with her powers, she would be mesmerized by the sparkle of the sky and the story it told.

You feel special when she asks you to watch the night sky with her, and how she’s letting you into a special part of her life.

You barely get the chance to walk in the door before she drags you to where she laid out blankets and snacks for you both since she can be out for hours just watching the twinkling lights. You can’t say no to her even if you wanted to when you see her this happy to do something.

“Carol slow down, you’re going to rip my shoulder out of its socket.” You can’t help but laugh at her as she practically skips down the hallway into the backyard.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you can hear the large grin on her face even when she’s faced away from you. “We wasted so much time we could have spent outside already, I want to get there!”

“I’m sorry I had to go to the bathroom Carol, jeez.”

Laying down with her she immediately points out all the constellations that she can see that night, and will teach you how to spot them.

There’s a point in the night where you seemingly were too into the snacks that were out instead of the stars in the sky, which results in Carol taking them away from you.

“You can earn them back after you’ve pointed out a constellation I’ve showed you.” For the first time that night she looks away from the sky to smirk at you, knowing she’s giving you a daunting task.

You let out a hearty sigh before staring up at the sky. The glittering stars in the sky, no matter how pretty they looked, all you can see are clumps of them scattered throughout the sky. You have to focus really hard in order to see a design amongst them.

“Yeah, there’s one right there, right?” You end up pointing at random at the sky hoping that you somehow end up pointing at least part of something out.

“Where?” Carol squints, her eyes scanning the area that she saw me pointing at with my finger.

“Right there.” You point at roughly the same spot you did before, stretching out your arm more to emphasize it.

Carol practically lays on you in order to see exactly where you’re pointing, not moving even when you attempt to push her off. She completely blocks your view while still staring intensely up at the sky, and you take this as your chance to snatch the snack bag that she took from you previously.

She hears the bag and quickly jumps up from you to try and grab it back, but you’re up and running across the yard in order to try and avoid her. You make the mistake of turning around to look at her to find her about to pounce after you.

“No! Okay wait, I promise I’ll pay attention and listen to you more, just let me have this!” Her narrowed eyes soften at my tone and she opens her arms, knowing I enjoy how warm she is.

As soon as I’m completely sure she isn’t going to tackle me as soon as I get close enough, I scuffle my feet towards her until I’m close enough to sit back down on the blanket, and lay down on her chest.

She started tracing patterns into my arm after snatching some of the snacks from the bag I brought back insisting that I shared.

The rest of the night is spent with her pointing out every constellation that can be seen, going over one multiple times until you’re able to spot it easier.

By the end of the night you’re able to spot so many constellations in the sky, a lot easier than you could previously. You’re both up so long staring at the night sky that you end up falling asleep on the blankets outside, and waking up by the sun blazing down on you in the morning.

buy my a coffee ♡

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers #marvel #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x gn!reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel x you #i feel bad its so short #and i took forever to write it #forgive me 🙏🏼

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al9ayf · 1 year ago

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ᥫ᭡ 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 | carlos oliveira x f!reader

✧ chapter 3 :: snake

｡˚ word count: 6.32k

｡˚ a/n: i need to give all y’all awards for waiting 6 months for the third chapter 😭 i am so sorry for the long wait i literally lost the motivation to write for monthsss until june hit and the gayness came out of me. i got a wake up call party people. i hope u enjoyyyy and i will be giving u more carlos content i promise

｡˚ content warning(s) :: smut, p in v

he was gone for what felt like forever.

you only realized that time was passing because of the different sounds jill would make. other than that, you sat still looking at the iv bag drip in a continuous pattern. but then you heard it. the sound of somebody running. you didn’t freak out or even bother moving. you were too tired, and you already knew who it was anyway. his footsteps were familiar.

carlos stopped running right as he opened the double doors. you were seated next to jill on a rolling chair with no back support. you turned your head to face him, eyes dropping to his belt where you spotted the vaccine dangling from it. you then looked up at him and noticed the smallest expression of anger.

“was he there?” you asked, standing up.

“oh, he was there,” carlos said, coming right up to you. “—sitting there dead.” your facial expression didn’t change. instead, you only rolled your eyes and turned around to face jill.

“were there any more?” you asked.

“none,” he said. “he left a video on the computer explaining everything, which i assume you alre—“

“yes, i already know.” you snapped, turning your head to face him. you were angered at the fact that nicholai killed your only coworker left to help you. the only other coworker besides yourself who knew how and where to make another fucking vaccine. you couldn’t do this alone, but you had to now.

you kicked the chair beside you and walked across the room to get the supplies needed. it was only a bandage, alcohol wipes, and some gloves. you didn’t want to infect her even more with whatever you had. you slipped the gloves on and went to work. carlos handed you the vaccine after you had wiped the area you were going to inject it in. you stuck the needle into her arm gently, hearing her wince at the pinching pain as you injected the vaccine into her. after that, you placed the empty cartridge on the stand beside you.

“she’ll still have a fever,” you said as you grabbed the bandage.

“for how long?” asked carlos.

you glanced up at him, then back down at jill’s arm so you could start wrapping the bandage. “don’t know,” you said. “it depends on how well she handles it.”

once you finished, you backed away from her and walked away. carlos came up next to her and eyed her face. she seemed to look somewhat better. he turned around to look back at you, seeing that you were removing the blue latex gloves from your hands and dumping them in the trash. you glanced at him to see that he was looking at you, and you felt somewhat of an easy feeling wash over you.

“we need to leave as soon as your friend arrives,” you said. “we need to create another vaccine before anything else happens.”

“where can we even find another one? umbrella has so many labs,” said carlos.

“only one of them has the materials to make the vaccine, and it’s right under this hospital.” you looked at the double doors, remembering how you visited this hospital so many times just to create and work on things that ultimately destroyed this city, and now possibly the world. you looked back at carlos.

“the horrors down there…” you muttered. “it’s a suicide mission.”

“there’s four of us, y/n. there’s no such thing as a suicide mission if we all work together,” he said.

“you don’t understand… i want that vaccine as much as you do, but there are more than just bio-weapons down there. it’s not the only thing that’s scaring me…”

“then… what is it?”

you glanced at jill who was resting peacefully, then sighed. “not in here, she needs to rest,” you turned your gaze back to him. you beckoned him to follow you out of the room. carlos opened up the door for the two of you, only to be met with tyrell running up to the door. he quickly stopped and started panting a bit, but had a relieved look on his face.

“i got here as soon as i could,” he said, still panting. “the vaccine?”

“i already gave it to jill,” you said. “she’s recovering and resting now.”

“oh, thank god,” he let out a deep sigh of relief. “and you two?”

you both stood there silently, not knowing how to answer. but you quickly cleared your throat and laughed awkwardly, “there are a few things we need to talk about privately. in the meantime, i want you to watch over jill for a bit—make sure nothing is wrong while we’re gone. but if anything happens, let us know immediately.”

“yeah, yeah of course,” said tyrell.

he entered the room which left the two of you all alone in the lobby. you walked over by the desk to get some distance away from the door so you wouldn’t disturb jill and tyrell with your voices. you played with your hands, unsure of what to say first. there was so much to go over, and your fingers kept sliding your wedding band up and down your ring finger.

“umbrella… they don’t want any of this getting out, y’know?” you asked, turning to face him. you moved your hands away from each other to stop your fidgeting. “it’s either them or some fucking spy or government group that wants it. whether it be the vaccine or the virus itself.”

you felt your heart rate kick up. “just the thought of it kills me on the inside. jesus… we’re doomed if one of those fuckers gets it.”

you started breathing heavily, almost as if you were about to go into full panic mode. you fanned yourself with your hands as you paced around the lobby worriedly. “we’re nothing compared to them. nothing, carlos!”

he walked over to you and stopped you in your tracks by placing both of his hands on your shoulders. you looked at him, still in a frenzied state. “you don’t know that,” he said. “you don’t know if there’s anybody down there anyway! you need to calm down.”

“there are rats in this company,” you said, grabbing his bulletproof vest. “one of the labs has already been infiltrated before the outbreak, and one of my coworkers is being stalked by this woman who wants the virus!”

you leaned in close to his face. “and nicholai is somewhere around the area, trying to find another way to get into this lab underneath our feet. he wants the vaccine so he can fucking sell it.”

carlos moved his hands to grab yours, moving them away from his chest so he can hold them. “listen,” he said in a commanding voice. “in a day or so, this city is going to be a goner whether we get the vaccine or not. but either way, we can still have the upper hand here if we secure the only escape route from the lab.”

you gulped down the built-up saliva in your throat, “and if we don’t?”

“we will. it’s the four of us against whoever or whatever is in our way.”

he saw you start to calm down and relax in his close embrace. you were still anxious, but you felt somewhat reassured. you were a scientist. the smartest out of the bunch here in raccoon city. fuck, you could outsmart all the bio-weapons and the undead—even the people after the virus. you were smarter than all of them combined. you looked away from him and down at the floor, cracking a smirk at yourself.

“maybe you’re right… i’ll try not to think about it in the meantime,” you gently grabbed your bitten hand. “i don’t want to stress myself out more…”

you moved away from him and walked over to one of the couches, sighing as you sat down. “i uh…”

you looked at him, locking eyes. “… i never had the chance to tell you the truth… about umbrella, about me, about all of this shit.”

carlos sat down next to you and placed his hand by yours. “if there is more to tell about your whole situation, then let’s talk about it after this whole shit show.”

“and once jill wakes up,” you added.

“yeah…”

you looked down, avoiding his gaze. “thank you.”

“for what?”

“everything.”

you looked back up at him and locked eyes. for the first time—you smiled. a gentle, soft, genuine smile appeared on your surprisingly still moisturized lips. he was almost taken aback by it, shocked at how much your smile became a rare sight to see now. it has been way too long. your smile lasted only a second longer before you looked away from his face and at his body. you reached your right hand out to grab the strap of his bulletproof vest. you played with the flashlight with your thumb, as if you were a little child with a toy.

“how heavy is it?” you asked.

“not that heavy,” he said.

you knew he was smirking, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how stupid this was. you looked at his face and raised an eyebrow. “i can see you breaking a sweat though,” you said, leaning in closer. you were just joking, of course, and it was an invitation to just be at ease and not at each other’s throats.

a lighthearted mood settled in between the two of you. “it’s not ‘cause of the vest, but because of you,” said carlos.

“… i always hated your pickup lines,” you said, smiling again.

“at least they get you to smile.”

“yeah, right.”

you suddenly tugged on the vest, bringing him down to your height while almost pressing him up against you. he placed both hands on either side of you to not fall on top of you and crush you.

you let go of the vest by slowly sliding your hand down the front of it, all the while looking up at him through your lashes. although you were tired, dirty, and smelled a bit bad due to the zombie guts and running around, he still thought you were gorgeous. carlos swallowed the built-up saliva in his mouth, only to quickly bend over the other way and start coughing into his fist. you sat there a bit shocked but with an amused expression on your face.

“am i that vile to you that you choked on your spit?” you laughed.

you placed a hand on his shoulder, only to move it down to his back to start hitting it gently to stop the coughing session. he let out a deep breath once he was finally finished, and turned his head to look at you. carlos saw the tiniest look of concern dancing in your eyes.

“you alright?” you asked.

he smiled at you as he leaned back on the couch. “as long as my vile wife is with me, i’m fine,” he flirted but joked at the same time.

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at what he said, only to laugh a little right after. carlos felt at ease hearing you laugh, which helped boost his ego up a bit when he went to move his arm behind you and place his hand on your hip. you didn’t say anything as he pulled you closer to him. it felt weird to be close to him like this again. after months of being away without any communication, and the tension between the two of you the past few days—it was going to be weird. but you felt safe and comfortable. you looked up at him and into those dark eyes. he always cracked underneath your gaze. he couldn’t stare at you for too long before having to look somewhere else. you were the only woman to have this effect on him. to play better at his own game; his own flirtatious game. but it only helped his confidence to know that you were letting on. he was coming back into your life as your husband again.

he looked back at you quickly, fearing that if he strayed his gaze away for too long that you wouldn’t be there anymore. but there you were, smiling softly. he cracked again. you were just so beautiful.

“carlos…” you spoke his name as if it was the first time you heard it. he moved his head down to yours and you stayed. you didn’t move away. this was the perfect moment. he grabbed your cheek and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. you kissed back eagerly. your lips were still so soft and so moisturized. it felt amazing. when he pulled away, he couldn’t help but move back in for more.

he peppered kisses from your mouth to your chin, then down to your neck and the place behind your ear which always made you gasp and moan. his kisses only grew more eager and lust-driven. but you couldn’t do it here, not now! you moved your head so your lips could connect one more time before you grabbed his arm and stopped him. he rested his forehead against yours and stayed looking at your lips.

“baby—“ you said but got cut off.

“shut up.” carlos said and went back to work. he laid you on the couch and feverishly kissed you again. he moved his hands down to your shirt and rode it up, exposing your stomach and bra. you bit your lip to suppress a moan and placed your arm over your mouth to make sure it didn’t split out. carlos only moved your arm away and you gave him a serious look.

“we can’t,” you whispered. “it’s too risky.”

“i don’t care,” he said, kissing you. “i have to scratch fucking my wife in a apocalypse off my bucket list.” you cursed him as you laughed.

carlos moved you off the couch and bent you over it as he came up from behind you. you looked over your shoulder and frowned. “on the floor? really?” you asked.

he shrugged his shoulders. “you were going to fall off eventually. you know me,” you muttered a “shut up”. you couldn’t take him seriously at times, especially now. he hooked his fingers on your pants and underwear, making sure to slide both of them down at the same time. you were glad he couldn’t see your red face. you became embarrassed when you suddenly heard him laugh.

“a thong? really?” he asked. you rolled your eyes. “were you expecting this to happen?” carlos only continued. you wanted to hit him. when you didn’t give him a reaction, he only retaliated by spreading your legs a little wider and slipping a finger easily inside of your already dripping cunt. you laid your head on your hands and let out a shaky sigh. he smiled to himself. he pumped his finger in and out of you slowly. you could feel the roughness of his fingerless gloves against your thighs. it only made this feeling better.

you turned your head and pouted. “please, carlos…” you sighed. “just fuck me already.”

he pulled his finger out and ran it along the inner part of your thigh, making you shiver. “well since you asked so nicely…” he said, moving his finger away. you heard him unzipping his pants and some shuffling. you felt the tip of his cock enter you, but he didn’t move.

you rolled your eyes. “carlos if you don’t fucking—“ he shut you up by thrusting into you, and you gasped. he covered your mouth immediately and brought you up to his chest.

“we don’t want tyrell to hear you now,” he said, fucking you even harder. “it’ll be embarrassing for the both of us.” you couldn’t help it though. as he let go of your mouth, the first thing you did was moan even louder than your gasp. he felt so good you couldn’t even shut up about it.

you leaned your chest back against the couch to get into a more comfortable position, but every time carlos thrust into you, harder and harder, you kept being pushed back against him. he was going to fuck you dumb at this point. and even though he told you to shut up, he was also moaning and grunting, but in a much quieter voice. carlos suddenly stopped and slipped his dick out of you. you were going to turn and face him but he only moved you off of the couch and onto the floor.

your back was now on the floor with your legs spread just a little. carlos grabbed your pants and underwear again and moved them down to your ankles just to take them off, not bothering to do the same with your shoes. he just wanted the clothes out of his way. you brought your finger up to your lips as he brought you right to him, and slid right back in even more. you bit hard and moaned. carlos’ grip around your hips tightened as he fucked even harder and faster. his hair stuck to his face and his mouth couldn’t and wouldn’t stay shut.

“carlos—“ you moaned, reaching your hands up to his face. you cupped his cheeks and brought his head down to yours, immediately kissing him to shut the both of you up. your saliva mixed with his as your tongues clashed against each other. you moaned at how good everything felt. how good he was at making every part of your body sweat and shake. your cunt clenched around his dick and that is when he bit on your bottom lip in response.

your hand snaked around the back of his neck and you dug your nails into it in response, but it wasn’t hard enough to hurt him. carlos kissed you one more time and then pulled away from your lips. your bottom lip throbbed just like your cunt and you only felt more pleasure from it. carlos started to go faster, and your body twisted from it. fuck, fuck, fuck you were close and you know he knew too. carlos’ breathing became heavier and your moans only became louder.

he bucked his hips into yours and groaned. “you really love being loud,” he moaned. you hummed and went to grab your tits, massaging them as he continued fucking you.

“mmm—you make me feel so good, how am i supposed to keep my mouth shut?” you managed to say, only to moan right after. carlos laughed and shook his head. within the next minute, you felt yourself become more sensitive to any touch or movement carlos made. you felt yourself. you were going to cum any minute.

you put your arm over your mouth and cried. “yes—yes! right there! oh fuck!” you moaned as he kept his pace fast and steady. “yes!” you cried as you moaned. carlos needed to hold himself together. he couldn’t cum in you but at the same time, he wanted to so bad. ugh, fuck it. with a few more hip thrusts, carlos came inside of you, becoming still as a rock as he finally had his orgasm. you followed too, and you grabbed his face to kiss him again just to conceal your moans. you were loud when you came but this time you had to keep quiet (even though you already failed at that).

when you finally stopped, you leaned your head down on the floor again and started to breathe heavily. carlos slipped out of you and fell back on his butt. he needed a breather from that fuck. it was so good, so passionate, so raw. it took him out more than killing fucking zombies did. but it has been too long and you two needed to head back inside again. carlos pulled his pants back up and zipped them. he looked at you only to see you were still laying there with your legs wide open. you were too exhausted to do anything.

he moved over to you and grabbed your knees, closing your legs together and placing his head on top of them. he smirked at you and you looked away. you were too flushed and a bit embarrassed right now.

“round two?” he teased. you only moved your legs as you lay on your side, flashing him a playful look. carlos only grabbed your arms and pulled you up. you placed your head on your legs now and smiled. “thanks,” you said, looking up at him.

carlos became confused. “for what?”

“for reminding me of how much i missed your cock,” you joked, standing up now. you heard carlos laugh at both your joke and how you wobbled over to your pants and underwear. you sat down on the couch and slid them back on with your shoes still on you. you made sure the both of you look presentable enough before walking back inside the room jill and tyrell were in. he greeted the both of you with a smile and a “hey” before going back to work on his computer.

carlos took a seat next to him as you took yours next to jill. you were monitoring her, and as you started to unhook her from the iv bag that she no longer needed, tyrell leaned in close to carlos with a small smirk on his face. “she that good?” he asked. carlos looked at him and scoffed before lightly punching his shoulder.

“shut up, man…” he muttered. you stopped what you were doing and turned to look at them. tyrell was snickering to himself while carlos gave you a quick wink. you only blushed and turned back to jill. motherfucker.

—

waiting around hoping for something to happen isn’t ideal, especially since the government was going to bomb raccoon city soon. you and carlos left tyrell in charge to look after jill since she was recovering well, and the two of you headed off into the lab to start looking for another vaccine. you weren’t sure if there were any left, truthfully, but if you had to make it from scratch then so be it.

everything was going smoothly up until the two of you got ambushed by the undead. you were forced to split up, and ever since then, you’ve been wandering around the halls alone. you knew where you were going, but you feared that carlos would be lost. if only you kept the radio. you decided that you needed to stop waiting around for carlos, and instead start going after the vaccine. you needed to get it before anybody else—if there even is another person lingering down here…

you finally arrived at the storage room in front of the lab and you quickly headed towards the lift. you didn’t see anybody on your way here so you thought to yourself that you were the only one. that is until the lift reached the monitor room and there stood nicholai with his hands behind his back looking right at you. “there’s the woman of the hour,” he said, walking towards you. you quickly got off the lift and headed to him as well, glaring straight into his eyes.

“what’re you doing here?” you asked. “there’s no business for you here.”

he looked you up and down before walking past you. “last night i saw you get bit,” nicholai turned around to see your confused and shocked expression.

“how?” you snapped, coming up to him. “i was alone. carlos wasn’t even there—“

“you forget that i’m a monitor. i watch,” he said, fully turning around to meet your eyes. “and you were stupid enough to forget that i could see you wrapping that bite up in that train.”

you bit the inside of your lip harshly and it almost bled. nicholai laughed at your shaken appearance. and to add it all on top, he placed a hand on your shoulder and smirked at you. “umbrella already knows of this. your body is a natural resistor to the virus. they would be so glad to hear from you—“

he got cut off when the power suddenly went out. you could still feel his hand on your shoulder, so you slapped it away and gave him a hard punch in the face. you surprised yourself by managing to land the blow. nicholai groaned in pain as he fell to the floor. it was still dark so you could barely see him. but then you felt him grab your leg and forcibly trip you. you yelled as you fell and landed on your bitten arm. you felt blood squeeze out at the pressure which only made you hiss at the pain.

“stupid bitch,” he muttered under his breath. he got on top of you and grabbed your neck, squeezing it. you reacted quickly, and as he struggled to strangle you, your hands felt around his waist area and grabbed the knife he had in his pocket. you grabbed it and stabbed him in the leg. nicholai screamed in pain and you then scooted away from him. you backed into the wall, breathing heavily and gasping for air. fuck it burned. you still had the knife in your hands, and you gripped tightly onto it as you stood up and made your way toward him. he was visible now in the dark. you finally managed to get a grip on your surroundings.

nicholai got up from the floor right as you tried getting a swing at his neck. he grabbed your wrist harshly and under his grip slowly started to crush it. you screamed in pain and fear as he brought the knife closer to you instead. but then the lights turned on, and he suddenly pushed you away. he ran to the sliding door and you quickly followed after him. you were going to kill that son of a bitch. as you slipped through the doors, jill came up on the platform, managing to catch a glimpse of your labcoat and hair.

“y/n!” she yelled, but you didn’t hear her. the doors shut and locked behind you and it was just you and nicholai. but in a twisted turn of events, he suddenly pressed a button he had in his hand, and down came the doors. you rushed to it and banged hard on it.

“i’ll get you, you bastard!” you yelled. “you fucking hear me?!” but he didn’t answer. you knew the lab like the back of your hand, so you turned around and ran down another big white hallway. you ran into a black door and you slammed it open. all you had with you was this fucking knife and a bitten hand. you were screwed. this place was crawling with the undead. but you were here, so you had to do something. you walked into the supply room at the end of the hall to find some bandages. yours was dirty and bloody again. when you took them off, you saw how bad your hand had got. your fingers were way too skinny and your hand seemed to have shrunk a little. what the fuck?

you quickly found some bandages and wrapped up your hand again. you left the room holding it as if you had broken it. you realized after all the adrenaline that there wasn’t much feeling to it anymore. you walked up the stairs in pain and fear. the vaccine synthesis room was only down the hall. you saw no infected around, but right as you got up to the door, you suddenly heard the sound of a few behind you. you didn’t bother turning your head to look at them. you only busted into the room with fear and shut the door behind you. you walked straight towards the machine and looked around the table. there were no materials. your breathing became heavier as you looked around the room for any materials. nothing. fucking nothing.

you fell to the floor crying and you slammed your okay hand on the ground. “fuck!” you yelled. you knew there were some in badly infected areas, but you couldn’t go there like this. you were dying, you knew it. suddenly the door busted open and jill came in with her gun aimed. you looked up at her in awe as she came down to you.

“fuck, are you hurt?” she asked, bringing you to your feet. you shook your head as she brought you to the chair nearby to sit on.

“the vaccine…” you started. “the materials aren’t in here.”

“that’s alright,” she said, placing her gun back in its holster. “i’ll go get it.”

“you don’t understand—“

“y/n, i’ve gone through worse shit. just tell me where to fucking get it and what the fuck it is,” she cut you off.

you stared at her in shock for a second only to let out a small laugh at her attitude. you enjoyed how brave she was. you sat there explaining to her where and what to get. you needed an antigen and adjuvant for it to work, but they were far from each other in deeply overrun areas. but jill didn’t care though. she only thanked you and walked out the door, only to come running back in to grab a usb drive by the computer. you laughed again at her.

—

an hour later jill came back with what you needed. she only had a few scratches on her but that didn’t matter. you told jill you would meet up with her and carlos later while you worked on this vaccine now that she had gotten rid of the infected around the area. but before she left, you told jill that there was a weapon in the lab that could destroy nemesis once and for all.

“if you can’t shake it off of you, head to that room. you will finally get rid of it there,”

and then she left. you spent the next few minutes finishing the vaccine. and as you held that bright pink tube up to your face a thought came to your mind—maybe it could help you. raccoon city was going to be a goner either way. you were still alive. everything else was gone. you needed it more, right? you looked around for a needle and managed to find one. but as you held it up, you felt like you couldn’t do it. you finally got jill’s trust and carlos back in your life. you couldn’t do it.

you threw the syringe on the floor and left the room. there was a helicopter up on the roof you could hijack and prepare for the three of you to leave. you knew a shortcut—an elevator that took you straight up there. you walked into the hallways and went through a door at the end of one of them. there was an elevator that took you up to the roof. you arrived in a minute, and there was the helicopter. you ran up to it only to be caught off guard by a gunshot. nicholai came charging at you, and you took out the knife again. he knocked you down to the ground but without getting sliced across the arm for it.

“you’re strong for somebody who is infected!” he said, sitting on top of you again. this time he grabbed the knife from your hand and threw it away, breaking your wrist in the process. you screamed and tried rolling away from him, but it hurt so bad. you started to cry and push him away with your other hand, but that one was already weak and “decayed”. nicholai grabbed your throat and raised your head from the ground, banging it onto the floor below. you screamed even more, but before he could do it again, he suddenly got shoved off of you.

you kept your eyes shut in fear and pain. your head hurts so bad. your arms were on fire. you wanted to die than continue living in this painful hell. you opened up your eyes to see carlos beating the living shit out of nicholai. but they kept turning and fighting each other it all became a blur to you. your head felt like it was about to explode. and eventually, you passed out for a few seconds only to wake up again to feel somebody searching your body. you opened your eyes to expect carlos, only to come face to face with nicholai. he grabbed the vaccine from your pocket, but at that moment it wasn’t the thing concerning you. you rolled to see where carlos was, only to find his body not moving on the ground.

“carlos!” you yelled. you could see the faint moving of his chest, so you remained calm. at least he was still alive. behind you, you heard jill run-up to the three of you. she yelled incoherent words since you kept slipping in and out of consciousness. the only thing you managed to make out was a gunshot and the sound of some glass breaking. there was so much going on as you heard some more struggling and another gunshot. then everything went quiet. carlos suddenly appeared above you and he bent down to pick you up.

“everything’s going to be okay now,” he said, lifting you. he helped you inside of the helicopter and you laid your head down on jill’s lap. you couldn’t bring yourself to move much.

“the vaccine?” you managed to ask.

“gone,” said jill in an angry voice.

you didn’t reply to her. that’s what the glass was, huh? you shut your eyes and let silent tears spill down your cheeks. your hand, your legacy, your life… all gone.

—

a week passed after you returned home. the government was still forcing you to go through some regulations, but you didn’t mind since you and carlos were back in your home. he questioned your hand a few times but you told him that it was still healing after getting it caught in a fence while running through raccoon city. you didn’t have the heart still to tell him that you had gotten bit and were still living. you added to the lie saying after you went to the government hospital, they bandaged and sewed your hand back up. he believed you—of course, he believed you.

at the end of the week, in the middle of the night, you received a phone call. it was your house phone, not your phone. you knew who it was already. you got up from bed slowly and walked to the dresser by the window. it was an unknown number, but you still picked it up.

“hello?” you asked while walking out of the room. carlos was a heavy sleeper so he wouldn’t notice you gone for a few minutes. you walked out into the hall and into an empty room filled with boxes. you sat in the rocking chair by the window and looked out into the street. nobody was out there.

“you made it out, bitten and still alive,” the man on the other side of the phone exclaimed. “how?”

you leaned into the rocking chair and smiled. “don’t know, don’t care,” you said.

“has it spread?”

“a little. the blackness reached my wrist and my fingers are stiff.”

“and your other hand?”

“the wrist is broken but it should heal in a few weeks. nothing to worry about.”

“and the vaccine?”

“destroyed by nicholai.”

“good. we can fix that hand of yours too and take a sample for some experimenting.”

you shut your eyes and relaxed into the seat. the man on the other side muttered a few things and you could hear the tip-tapping of his keys. after a few seconds of silence he spoke up again. “we’re expecting you back at work soon,” he said.

“umbrella is gone. i cannot continue my work there anymore,” you said. “everything perished from that fucking bomb.”

“you won’t be working with them anymore, you’ll be working with me.”

“and what will i gain from working with you?”

“the power you never had from umbrella.”

you suddenly heard your bedroom door creaking open. you heard as carlos’ footsteps started coming towards the door. you panicked. “one second,” you said as carlos opened up the door a bit wider to the room you were in. you looked at him with a small smile on your lips. he looked exhausted.

“you’re up,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “whose calling you so late?”

you brought the phone down to your lap and sighed. “one of the government workers,” you groaned. “they need our passports tomorrow.”

“couldn’t they have waited in the morning?” you rolled your eyes at him and laughed. he came up next to you and leaned down to kiss your forehead. you felt so bad. “i’ll be waiting in bed then.”

you nodded your head and watched as he left the room. you listened closely to the sound of his footsteps as they disappeared and you brought the phone back up to your ear. “so?” the man asked.

“alright,” you said, getting up from the chair. “next time don’t call my house phone in the middle of the night.”

he didn’t say anything and hung up the phone. you hated blonde men. you went through the phone and deleted the number from the call history just in case. you walked back into your bedroom and placed the phone on its stand. carlos had his eyes shut but you know he was still awake. you crawled back into bed and into his embrace, placing your head on his chest. he wrapped his arms around you tightly and pressed another kiss on the top of your head.

“hey, y/n,” he started, looking down at you. you hummed in response.

“why are you lying to me again?”

ch. 1 and 2

bonus chapter party people?

ALSO THANK YOU FOR READING MY SERIES AND KEEPING UP WITH THE BULLSHIT UPDATING SCHEDULE 😭 I LOVE YOU ALL !!!

#carlos x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira #umbrella #re3 #resident evil 3 #re3r #resident evil 3 remake #female reader #poc reader #mixed reader #2nd pic #smut

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uniformbravo · 8 months ago

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since i've spent the past few days essentially staring at nothing but natsuyuu volume covers i thought it'd be so fun and silly to try and redraw them all from memory tee hee. all 30 (thirty) (三十) of them!!! wheee!!!!

i haven't actually looked at them next to the originals yet so guess what time it is!!!! LET'S COMPARE

starting with volume 1. iconic. show stopping. masterpiece. the mona lisa of natsuyuu SURELY i reproduced every single detail perfectly such that it kickstarts my career as a forgery artist RIGHT

well feast ur eyes

(im using the english volumes for comparison btw they have a good clear view of the art)

CAN U TELL WHICH IS WHICH OOO THEYRE SO ALIKE BET U CANT!!! SPOT THE DIFFERENCE LEVEL 1000 WHICH ONE DO U SHOOT

all i remembered for this one was GREEN and it's not even the right shade of green ajgosugdjfkdgj i even made the fuckin. what do u call it. i'll just say yukata??? I MADE IT GREEN AND ITS SUPPOSED TO BE RED i stg if u held a gun to my head & asked if there was any red on vol 1 i'd be DEAD

but i remembered the book of friends is like. weirdly purple? ok well in this pic it looks p gray BUT ON OTHER COPIES...... IF U UP THE SATURATION GKSJKDNFKDG

why is nyanko sensei smack dab in the middle HUH i couldve sworn he was bottom left this is so fucked up and scary. haunted manga volume??????? i bought it from a grarage sale idk you guys-

at least natsume's pose is like kind of right but also that's most definitely a complete accident i can ASSURE u (im rereading this the next day and the pose isnt even CLOSE what are u TALKING ABOUT)

anyway can i just fucking point out the kanji on the book of friends bc that is from MEMORY YEEHAW here's what it's Supposed to look like: 友人帳

LIKE even tho i got the last one wrong ITS LIKE STILL PRETTY CLOSE??? i think i deserve 100 points for this objectively

MOVING ON THO....

OK NOT AS BAD AS I THOUGHT SURPRISINGLY im actually like. i thought i bombed this one completely but liKE THE COMPOSITION??? KIND OF ON POINT. KIND OF GENIUS TBH

i remembered Blue and Madara and like what else do u need rly. butterflies are optional in all scenarios imo

also i NEVER have any idea what natsume's wearing in any of these so i always just like default throw him into his school uniform LMAO u will see a pattern

why is the book of friends burgundy in this one btw. it was GRAY i mean purple definitely purple aha

ok volume 3 im actually scared for i know i fucked up SOMETHING

HGLKFKGLKFKGFN OK!!!!! OK NOT SUPER AWFUL!!!! just noticed i forgor to color the book of friends fukg

main thing i remembered abt this one was the color of natsume's... attire.... and which characters were present. whats sensei doing all the way up in the top corner tho 0/10

return of the school uniform lmaooooo hm. irrelevant who cares plus didnt ask. all things considered this wasn't as bad as i thought. THE NEXT ONE HOWEVER,

hsngjfgnfjn okayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

sensei's way cuter in this one than i realized wait wtf this cover's cute af how did i never notice. underrated cover -10 @ me. look at his lil BLEP >:O!!!!!!!

i knew there was some fuckshit going on w the yukata in this one ourhg i was just like hehe greeennnn also sensei's there. my work here is done

what is natsume's pose even hgnkg i was straight up making shit up at this point LIKE the first 6 or so covers are SO hard for me to distinguish in my head i should get a free pass for the poses in all of them like i can do whatever i want IM the artist now

oh god whats next vol 5

OK!!!! like a straight 5/10 TBH i literally forgot i was planning on rating these LMAO

i remembered the like white v-neck shirt thing and his pose kind of??? i had NO idea what to do for the yukata tho i just made it orange and u know what?? close enough. my rule of thumb is just like pick a color and then throw flowers all over it u cant go wrong

taki looks so much more mysterious on the original and also wearing a skirt. i gave her a big stick bc i thought i remembered her having one in general but i think i made that up tbh wouldn't put it past me. got her hat right tho hee haw

cant believe i didn't get natsume's beautiful artwork tho look at that little shit sensei up there god hes so ROUMD literally moma material

PROBABLY my best one yet uhhhh but i maybe cheated JUST a little for this one ITS LIKE BARELY CHEATING STOP BOOING ME

as i was toying w the idea of doing this redraw thing i was still working on collecting my Images and Pictures so i kinda started taking note of a few small things here & there and one of them was just. the general gist of this cover SO LIKE that's why it's so good LOL

forgor the flowers tho. i literally forget everything that isn't a character like immediately BUT OK CUT ME SOME SLACK like after a point the covers start being whole ass scenes which are SO much easier to remember shit abt than the fuckin Green Void (p sure this is the last green void cover tho)

8/10 composition is gr8 but details like the shirt & the yellow flowers are wrong, also the stick is backwards. i literally looked up what that thing is called and forgot already tee hee

OK WE'RE NOT DONE W THE GREEN VOID I REPEAT-

fuck dude. fuck. i rly thought vol 6 was the last one LOL not to spoil but as i was grabbing these images i saw a Preview of what's to come and the green void lasts until fuckign volume TEN LOL collapses onto the ground and dies

so erhermrm this is vol 7 lolllll i remembered the bg flowers this time can u believe hahaha distracts u from the fact that LITERALLY everything else is wrong auhghg

u know what the green void turned into bushes and i think that's beautiful.... like points for creativity on my part tbh. like to be completely honest. 3/10 i got the characters right

YO????? GATE CONFIRMED LET'S GO?????? it's definitely the school gate but i choose to believe natsume & tanuma r in jail for crimes and u should too

actually this is shockingly accurate for how much i goddamn struggled w this one gkjsldkg the CHARACTERS are right the OUTFITS are right SENSEI'S THERE urgh i knew one of these covers had tanuma holding sensei like that but i couldn't remember Which

i can't believe i actually got tanuma's pose that close i rly thought i was bullshitting w that one wtf. +5 points instantly

do u like how i just scribbled sensei wherever lmaoooo i drew natsume & tanuma & went like. i think sensei's in this one. PLOP

6/10 honestly closer than i thought

OK........ I SEE........ literally dies

this one i was getting MASSIVELY confused w vol 4 bc i could remember nothing distinct abt either of them except Green and natsume w Big Doggie

i remembered the BARE essentials of the composition but not much else... since i thought the green void was gone i put the green i remembered into natsume's yukata (and then put him in the school uniform again LOL) and went WELP. GUESS I'LL DIE NOW

2/10 honestly one of the worst fucking ones lskdjflsdkg

OK THIS ONE.... i almost died irl trying to remember this shit, even before i started and i was still viewing the covers i was like there is no way in HELL im remembering this shit for vol 10. and i was right

like. Purple. White Mask. Antlers. WILD layered clothing. at first i drew the mask as an actual deer skull but later had a straight up epiphany and redrew it like that which... still not correct but I MEAN.... IT'S PRETTY GOOD

i cant believe most of the purple is the bg oughgh his clothes are WHITE..... this is fucked up. i DID remember the stick tho, bells and everything!! actually bells and nothing else!!!

7/10 ok it might seem high but CONSIDERING this design..... i think i did shockingly well TBH

NOT...... the worst...... one....... i could've sworn he was sitting on a pile of books this is so sad that woulda been so cute 😭

for a second when i saw the real cover again i thought he was sitting ON the bookshelf and i was about to RIOT but its okay it's a step stool. still physically possible

my version of natsume here is so much more like Proper gksld he looks like a school boy... studying in the academy's library... hardworking student.... but no the real one is just sitting there like a wet puppy orz he's not even READING i rly thought he was reading. this is such a huge L

cannot fucking believe i was right abt the window tho. like wrong shape but the fact that it's even there.... giving myself a whole ass point for that one

5/10 i rly thought i nailed this one gksgndfkj

also RIP TO THE GREEN VOID U WILL NOT BE MISSED o7

ah shit ok. well one of them was in the school uniform at least fjgugjdkf

why is my natsume lying there like hes abt to start a therapy session, boy would NEVER-

also the plushie hmnmhnmhngnf i dont KNOW i knew there was some kind of prop there but like gun to my head i woulda died again. main colors that stood out to me for this were green and that bluish purple so i got those into mine but i mean. well u can see

once again a random window in the bg i got correct let's gooooo 5/10

LMAO SPITS OUT MY DRINK WHOOPSIE!!!!!!

this is so fucking bad im choking im gurgling LOLLLL i was SO sure natsume's paper had an eye on it i was POSITIVE this is so fucked up. i mean obvs i picked that up from sensei but like i didn't even KNOW sensei was there. or that there were bg characters at all uuuuuououohghh (matoba ignored +5)

i was like. black yukata red flowers CHECK piece of paper w eye CHECK horns CHECK i even went back and edited the horns to be more accurate i was so proud of myself sobs

ok but i knew it was shit trasjh when those were the ONLY details i could remember bc obviously there was gonna be more going on I JUST DIDN'T REALIZE HOW MUCH MORE.....

straight up dookie/10 no jk fr like 3/10 @ me u need to use ur EYES

OK..... I WAS VERY CONFIDENT ABT THIS ONE..... except for his outfit i knew i was bullshitting that BUT I THOUGHT I NAILED THIS ONE....... the one fucking time i didn't just default to his uniform LMFAO

even remembered the pink flower ball smh and for WHAT. i knew he was sitting in a pile of plushies & blankets or smth but no way in HELL was i even gonna attempt to draw them with a speck of detail. but HEY the plushie i drew for vol 12!!! i knew he existed Somewhere. he doesn't even have a horn tho thats so fucked up i thought he did

obviously the most striking thing abt this cover is the bg w that deep burgundy & the circular window so that was the main thing i nailed down right away (my palette was more muted tho). also natsume sitting there w paper in his mouth but i thought he was mid return when rly hes playing like keep-the-balloon-off-the-floor or whatever the fuck he's doing. i love u natsume

(if i thought he was in the middle of returning a name WHY didn't i include the actual book of friends flksglkd automatic fake fan/10)

8/10 this was like my ace in the hole i was like if i got nothing else i got U volume 14!!! and then

NOT THE FAMILY PHOTO......... FUCKING DIES

man idk shit just end me. whats even going on in this cover im gonna deck u natori. dont ask why this makes me want to commit violence hes just so. URHGHGHnH

i dont know whats happening to me rn looking at this im losing my fucking grip dude who let this happen im gonna hurl this volume into the sun??? i think???

why did i add the other two youkai i just thought they should be included but i played myself i had to draw them from memory and for WHAT. pls tell me i got them at least a little bit right i stg

it's the crossed legts dude if he was just sitting there like a board the way i drew him id be like ah shit it was just natori sitting not natsume too but he just HAS to cross his legs and the fucing elbow propped up holding the glasses im S MAD IM SO MADdestroy him

it's 1am i gotta go. i have to go. right now my mom is calling me i have to fukcng. 4/10 i got the couch colorr right. bye

---

tumglr...... only allows 30 pictures per post..... bc im not on desktop? or is that a site-wide thing now. in any case this is getting long so i think im gonna split it right down the middle into 2 posts so there u go, first 15 volumes. so far my score is ermmm

well i didn't rate the first few volumes.

vol 1: 6/10 decent

vol 2: 6/10 also decent

vol 3: 5/10 composition is Scramboled

vol 4: 2/10 it's SO BAD

so now my overall score is 74/150 fjggudjofjdkgjk doing gr8!!!!!!!!!

ok bye for real ✌️

#natsume yuujinchou #ny blogging #rieley doodles #retag later #this is me fighting my demons #why did i get so mad at natori at the end kgsndksjdfk #i say yukata a lot in this post but i think the piece of clothing im referring to might actually be haori in most of these cases #i think more ppl know what a yukata is than a haori tho so im just gonna leave it #(haori is the thing that u wear over the yukata. like a. cardigan)

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