#there is nothing substantial here just a lot of screaming | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scentedpepper · 3 months

Text

Attempted Vehicular Manslaughter

BILLY HARGROVE X MALE READER

Summary: Max Mayfield hosts a pool party.

Content Warnings: Use of the F-slur, Use of Queer in a derogatory manner, Injuries, Verbal Abuse, Abusive Household Dynamics, Reader makes a 'if I wanna kms' joke

Other Pairings: Nancy Wheeler x Male Reader, Jonathan Byers x Male Reader, Max Mayfeild x Male Reader, Mike Wheeler x Male Reader

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Oh brother we got a chatterbox

Had a dream about this ya'll

Readers a little sassy

Reader has a little brother

Reader has a bit of savior complex

Readers also kinda impulsive?

It's 3 am

_________________________________________

The grass was rough and patchy in the backyard, filled to the brim with wilted daisies and weeds crawling through the sprinklers. It was hardly worth a note of much consideration, as there had been nothing of great importance to discuss. There were many trees boarding the house. Pine or oak, maybe. And one dying cherry tree that was a stand alone in the yard. That was about the extent of anything substantial past the old silver fence that matched your shoes.

Nearest the house, under the shade, were several lawn chairs designated for the so-called "chaperones". The older brothers and sisters of the tweens. But really, it was nothing more than a cover-up.

Something to appease the parents' of the Hargrove house because Max knew it was odd to be friends with a group of kids the same age as her brother. Even her mother, who'd tried to remain impartial to any situation, narrowed her eyes and shifted her purse tighter when the suggestion of more than a couple 17 year old's parading around her house came.

Your mom was just happy you got along, let alone made some real friends outside the books, and encouraged the notion. More parental control, she reasoned. Less chances you were off with someone who intended on trouble.

Of course, all the shit about fighting monsters and being on the brink of death with these same friends wasn't factored in.

But no one besides them and the sheriff's deputy needed to know that.

The first time you had met the kids was, admittedly, what one would refer to as a kerfuffle. Riled up and trying to be dominant. Of course, because Billy was there, it spiraled even farther, and someone's head nearly got bashed into a rock.

That someone being you of obviously, after you'd been goaded into the fight and decided to step up. And boy, did Billy hate to lose. Hated being talked down to by a smaller kid who barely had pimples left on his face, let alone bulk.

You put up a good fight. You had a mean hit, especially the lick you gifted to Billy's chest, knocking the wind out of him when it connected. There was a bruise on his ribcage for days after and all the satisfaction he could possibly imagine at knowing it was from you.

But then he nearly killed you so, things turned sour rather quickly.

Which led to a rather impromptu welcome into the group of misfits, the lot of them. Unannounced and unexpected, you marched into the party after your small break down. Ready to be let in and accepted.

Finding out about the Upside Down was a mere accident.

You hadn't gone out of your way to befriend a group of children. Hadn't expected much in regards to friendship period even after getting your ass kicked by Billy Hargrove. Let alone a lifetime, one built from the shared experience of the horrors that lurk just underneath town, attached to one particular boy of the group.

But here you were. Standing in the backyard of Max's home like an idiot with the sun bearing down at your back. The late summer day nearly reached over 100 degrees as the clock neared the noon hour. Something you might have missed otherwise if it wasn't for the black analog watching you closely every time you renetered the house for a drink.

The main gaggle of kids swam and screamed every few seconds, trying to drag you into a half-baked game of Marco Polo that had the older Hawkins teens eyeing each other with concern.

You tapped the top of your can to ease the anxiety, looking around the edge of the yard again, past Max's mother, who waved awkwardly and would come around every so often, offering drinks or food to you, Nancy, and Jonathan.

"Nervous?" Jonathan prodded in his way, looking up from the half eaten sandwhich Will had taken two large bites from, making sure he had gotten his fill and packing it away when he received two big thumbs up from his little brother before he rentered the pool.

"Ah. " You leaned against the lawn chair, rolling your neck before looking over. "Expecting Billy to jump out from one of these corners, " you gesture towards the many hiding places you have spotted in the yard. "cause a scene. "

Nancy shifted uncomfortably, twisting her skirt slightly. "Not yet, at least. " She added while fidgeting with the button over the waist. "I thought he'd show up at least half-way through this thing. "

"Yeah, " you agreed, "thats why I'm–"

"On edge?" Jonathan filled in for you, a soft smile gracing his lips as Will looked over.

"Ready, he means. " Mike piped up, his hand was fully plunged into the cooler chest, blindly shifting around the ice as he looked over at the three.

Something in the tension held firm in the pit of your stomach, because the only times that this happened was whenever a confrontation was supposed to take place.

And judging from all the past events that had occurred, however mundane or fantastical they may be, this was probably going to end badly in more than just a couple of ways.

You'd managed to keep pretty calm in the past concerning Billy. Kept a level head about whatever shit he'd decided to cause that week. But something felt wrong today. That air in your gut had been hard to shake.

And the fact he had yet to make an appearance so far, did very little in easing you. And apparently everyone else involved.

"Don't know what his fucking problem is. " You curse, sitting up in the chair, "Never waits long to start shit."

In fact, you can almost pinpoint the time he entered the premises, an excuse to blame him for the sudden tightening in your gut and the goosebumps on your skin. Yet, he hadn't entered the backyard once since he got home. He stayed holed up in his room the entire day and that much was evident every time you, or Nancy, or Jonathan or one of the kids entered the house and heard the rock music blasting from his bedroom.

He hadn't even made a shadow to have showed his face.

For hours you waited.

Hours of worry and unease ate away at your gut while the rest of the party commenced unhindered.

And yet, it seemed all but for nothing in the grand scheme of things. Because as the sun started to lower from its zenith, you and the rest grew more tired and eventually, the temperature started to cool to a point where splashing around in the pool was no longer appropriate.

The kids came clamoring out, dripping in more chemicals than water, screaming and laughing in the process. It was getting near the five hour mark by then.

Your mind was heavy when you stood up to go inside, nearly tripping when your eyes clashed with the eldest person in the home, the both of you freezing awkwardly in the middle of the walk.

Both you and Max's mother were silent in each others presence. Stoic if there was ever a word for it.

Neil always seemed to be staring off into nothing, zoned out to some far away place only those who drowned themselves in alcohol and other momentary pleasures existed. They didn't interact, besides maybe the occasional conversation starter, or nod in passing whenever a person came too close for an inch of comfort. Not unusual in your opinion of strained marriages.

You began to speak, went to get yourself out of this weird positioning you've seemed to found yourself in. But Susan beat you to it.

"Can you do me a favor?" She beckoned before turning around and trotting off into the kitchen. Already assuming you would listen. You usually did. There weren't any hidden agendas for her actions and nothing against you personally.

She held some power that you wished wasn't. You would take just about any job that required you to be away from the current obstacles of your personal life. But as she turned back to look at you with that indescribable air and knowing nod, she had beaten you.

"Whats up?" You replied, voice more gravely then you meant it to be as you walked up behind her. She was sticking something into the microwave.

"Bye, Y/N/N. " Nancy had emerged from the Hargrove bathroom when she stood on her toes to place a friendly kiss on your cheek before joining Jonathan.

"See ya, Nance. " You say as the dark haired girl glided away, passing a wave to Jonathan and then they were out the front door.

The house was mostly empty now with nearly all the kids back home, and Dustin and Max tucked away in her room, waiting for Dustin's mother. There was enough silence now that you were itching to leave. The house had settled quiet, but you couldn't describe it as comfortable. There was a ribbed blanket across the couch that had obviously been sat on by its dishelved look.

The TV was on but the volume had been lowered so much that you were better off listening to Billy's faint music from down the hall for entertainment.

Water rushed from somewhere on the other side of the house and the distinct slam of a door being pulled shut gave you the visual to what you were hearing. Your little brother, most likely. You'd seen him dip down the hallway like he was about to shit himself the moment Nancy exited the bathroom.

You shifted around, placing your backside agaisnt the counter as you found new things to look at. Languidly, you watched, senses picking out different things around the house to latch on to. The light green walls, the ugly brown patterns on the carpet, the hum of the refrigerator that, strangely enough, harbored no family photos, just magnets with various corny sayings.

Your eyes lingered on the fridge.

Everything here was simple. Blank like a fresh canvas of dry paint. Apart from the dishes left in the sink and the few items of clothing to be picked up off the ground, it felt oddly wrong for an occupied residence.

"Y/N?"

A shift in the environment rippled over your skin and something felt charged but not in a fearful sort of way. You're pulled from your small internal worry by the same woman from before.

"Billy hasn't come from his room all day, mind taking this to him?"

Susan's got a glass plate in her hand, slightly extended our towards you. It's filled at every turn with food she'd transfered from the tupperware after the ding of the microwave you hadn't quite heard.

That same gut feeling crawled up your insides again, but you blamed the way your throat tightened on the anxiety. Why it was something now and not earlier, you can't be sure.

But, if there's one thing you learned from movies and popular tv shows, it's never to interrupt the motherfucker when he's listening to rock. But, here's your excuse. So, with a small nod and the plate in your hand, you try to shake it all away.

Because the worst that could happen is you get your ass beat again.

Stepping up to the wood slated door gave your lungs a run for their money. It was as if all the air had been sucked from the atmosphere and the pressure collapsed the walls around you. Only breathing through your nose you shook the fear away with a raised fist to the door, clenched the plate in your opposite hand.

Bass rattled through the floor and past the wooden door, you're graced with the faint sounds of the guitar on the stereo. There were bits of vocals in the background, a baritone voice that spoke. And perhaps that was part of the appeal. Your fingers danced on the metal that resided at the entrance. It felt cool on your skin.

You knocked again after a few seconds. Nothing sounded on the other side of the door but you were still unsure if Billy could hear you above the music. Maybe he'd turn it down once his father returned from whatever place he'd ventured off to in the night. But you didn't exactly have that time to be waiting around, despite your own fathers late tendencies.

You took a moment to think if you should just leave the plate on the floor, let him pick it up, and try to call a ride. You exhaled quickly, shifting your balance onto your other hip.

Before you even touched the doorknob with a single digit, the music turned down significantly and suddenly the atmosphere was more intense than you'd anticipated.

Which, was the new normal.

But, still.

Things felt off. The pressure in your bones caused your limbs to rise upward, to defend yourself, to at least put yourself in some position that wouldn't leave you open to attack.

For what?

You didn't know.

Because all Billy did was peer up at you from the crack in his door. Nothing significant yet his stare was nothing less than striking. Those blue things could put the oceans to shame, rivaling even the sky in its vivid colors. They were a mirror.

They shifted to the food, briefly. Then immediately returned back to you as the speaker could barely emit its sound.

You watched as the boy straightened, sighed and then opened the door wider, leaving the frame unguarded as he trailed off into his room.

The door held open but his gaze disappeared into the space on his mattress, and the music lowered a touch, no longer loud enough to break the door from its hinges but loud enough that Billy had to raise his voice over it to be properly heard.

You took a cautious step forward after staring at the boys backside, his attire didn't leave much to imagination but his half nude state was the least of your discernment seeing as one, you were fashioned the same way and two, Billy Hargrove was wordlessly inviting you into his room.

You thought maybe this was some kind of trick, a ploy to get you cornered, so your eyes danced over him in brief, consistent glances as you proceeded forward.

He was sitting by his window, a cigarette stuck between his two fingers as he silently stared off into the the darkness the world outside offered.

It was strange. Seemingly off guard as he propped the knee of one leg against the window, giving a free range to his left to lean. Hair swept over the shoulder to show part of his sharp jawline, which dimmed only with each intake of the deadly nicotine.

The room was bland save for a few posters, white walls, brown dresser pressed against a corner and a night stand tucked at the opposite. Clothes were tossed about, either on the floor or hung up half assed on something that you could only guess as a proper hanger.

His nightstand was covered in trash and empty beer cans and you thought of shoving them away before deciding to place the plate on his bed instead.

You spared him a last glance after the action, perplexed by the fact he was just so— quiet. Which, was certainly odd to everyone at least within half a mile from here. Usually the moment you entered his space, his bubble, he erupted like an animal defending its territory.

You decided not to push your luck. Because right now, it felt like the deadly cat across the African plains simply hadn't noticed you. And so your steps were as carefully placed as they had been when you entered. It was almost relaxing despite the looming feeling from the boys demeanor.

Billy felt a wave, a sort of ripple through the air as the presence of another remained in the room. He didn't bother to speak, only raised the unlit cigarette to his lips in a curious manner and took an unsteady puff, letting the wind carry the smoke out the screen. There was a storm, one he had sensed earlier but was hard to make out amongst the many things that had clouded his mind with anger.

Luckily, the only thing he could blame his outburst on earlier this morning was exhaustion, a clear sign of his lack of sleep from the night before which would easily explain his half dead posture and irritability that had pissed off nearly everyone around him.

Another explanation for his hideout in his room but one you couldn't quite understand.

You neared the exit when the floorboards creaked just as they had before and you almost wanted to freeze in your place. Like the cat would come pouncing now, mauling you to death.

"Not gonna make a show of it?" Came Billy's voice, it was low and calm but you caught the slight strain of it. As if he needed a clear of his throat to even be fully heard.

"A show of what?" You cast a glance over your shoulder, brows knit.

The blonde gestured with his lips, the subtle shift in his elbow drawing attention to the stick of tobacco. "I was waiting for some goddamn spectacle, L/N. "

"I don't know what you're talking about, Billy. " You sounded exasperated already and you stepped over a black shirt with a design you couldn't quite decipher from its crumpled up state. You made sure not to add anymore scratches to the ground and turned around, placing your back firmly against the door frame.

Billy's muscles became tense with the new body turned on him and he felt the wave again, the stirring of new energy entering the atmosphere.

But you had simply done so so that your back wasn't uncomfortably to him when you left.

"Whatever. " Was all Billy seemed to say before shutting you out, shoving that fucking piece of shit plate away from him. And in the split second your brain focused on how fast food was supposed to get cooled and not nearly three seconds after swallowing his cancer stick Billy must've caught the attention of the devil himself.

There was no denying the jagged yell, the shuffling in his voice like someone was gripping his head and holding it under water. You jumped away, eyes as wide as saucers as Billy's bedroom door flung open, smacking the adjacent wall with a loud slam that nearly cracked the plaster from the force.

And yet, his voice was a lot less louder than his grand entrance. "Hey, shit face. Why don't you make yourself useful instead of sitting around all day, having our guests, " he gestured to you, "bring you your own fucking food. "

You moved a step back, almost tripping on your own footing from your struggle to balance yourself without the solid sense of feeling. Your eyes darted frantically between the two people within your viewing distance, and you could barely make out Susan a few feet away who had her hand clasped on Max's shoulder.

She was ushering her daughter to their bedroom but Max refused, and the red head stood beside the door with a wary look.

"Get up. And give him a ride home. " Another gesture to you and when you looked towards the entrance of Billy's room again Neil was taking up the entire frame.

"That's really not–" You began but stopped as both of the parents turned to look at you with an appalled look. It was nothing personal but you doubted Billy even knew where you lived and the only time you ever rode with him was pervious to when he'd beat your ass.

"My dad–" You tried again.

"He won't answer the phone, much less pick you up. " Susan jumped in, though the hesitation on her voice made you doubt if that was her plan all along. "Your brother got a ride with the Henderson's. "

"Put on a shirt, stop acting like a balless queer, and go. " Again Neil thrust a drawn out, mocking tone, like his son couldn't comprehend basic sentences and he stepped out of the way to make room for your departure.

Billy's got a storm brewing in his expression and there was one moment where his eyes met yours and you were sure you'd drown in all the hate there was.

You didn't get a chance to argue about the amount of time it would take to get there and about how you would manage on your own. In fact, something in Max's eyes told you it'd be better not to. So you pressed your lips against each other as Billy grabbed his keys and pushed past you.

You watched Billy stalk past everyone, a gruff 'Yes, Sir' leaving his lips that you almost hadn't heard as he passed his father.

You exited the room shortly after, not sparing Susan or Neil a goodbye as you gingerly took your shirt from Max's hands.

She made a comment, something quietly spoken that not even your heightened hearing could make out over Billy's obnoxious slamming of the front door that he knew he would pay for later. You watched the young girl as she returned to her room.

Silence welcomed you when you first stepped into the driveway, stretching across the cement with a sense of uncomfortablity that didn't seem to fade as you entered the car and were met with a chilling quiet.

Billy didnt look at you as his ignition roared to life, nor did he speak to you as he pulled out the drive way. He stared ahead, chin down as he leaned just slightly forward, supporting an arm on the side door, palm rubbing soothing circles into his temple.

He was going 20 above the speed limit. You assumed you two were trying to get as far away from the house as you could. But, the further into the neighborhood you went, the lower the numbers on the radio dropped and the more the car filled with quiet music.

Hargrove was completely out of it, lost in some other space where you weren't welcome. And the car had filled with a tension you doubted he'd meant to cause, but given his current mood, you didn't think he could avoid it either.

Despite this, you chose to press yourself against the door with a turned head, the muscles in your body growing taut with discomfort the more you tried to make it seem as if you weren't even of existence in the passenger seat.

You wanted out of the car.

That much you could draw from your mind when you found that the speedometer was at 55 and increasing.

"Billy. " You tore your gaze from the meter, flickering over the silent boy who was intent on looking only at the road ahead.

No answer. His jaw was tightened and set. There were lines buried in the skin.

"Billy. " Your voice held a certain firmness that he didn't quite like.

Silence still and he tightened his grip on the leather, knuckles turning white. The streetlights were getting ready to cast those obnoxious eyes and like a perfect chain of events the little hairs of a certain song burst from the speakers.

His hand, fast with anger, whipped across the volume dial, ceasing the tune and replacing it with the rumble of the engine.

An inhale, then a single word. "What. "

Somehow you think that's the opposite of an answer. It's barely a question. With the tone of voice he held he shouldn't have phrased it that way because he clearly didn't want to know what you had to say, what you thought.

"Stop the car. I'll walk. " It was simple enough and on any normal occasion Billy might've done just that rather than wasting his gas on you. But tonight was different, and Billy, seemingly fueled by his own agitation, just blew past the stop sign and sent the speed at which the Camaro rolled up with you at dangerous levels.

The car vibrated lightly beneath you, air whistling as you tore through the neighborhood at an alarming rate.

"Oh for fucks sake. " It was a mutter to yourself because you hadn't exactly expected the boy to be cooperative but you didn't think you'd be forced to jump out of a moving car again. Yet, here you were; gripping the handle, poised like a god damn animal, eyeing the road as you built up your goddamned gallantry.

You didn't catch the surprise on Billy's face when he noticed you push the door open against the harsh winds.

Fuck it.

You fell with ease and with a soft oof! your limbs were somehow able to stand the blow rather than becoming mangled chunks of meat against the pavement. You could hear the car skidding to a stop five houses down as you took a moment to roll around in your own pain.

Your shirt had rode up on your torso, back pressed against the heated road as your skin made contact with the tar. You had a few scrapes along your spine, one over the delicate hip bone. And you were pretty sure the road had peeled the skin on your forearm all the way down to the elbow but hey, at least it wasn't your fucking face.

A few drops of blood gathered on a pebble directly to your right. Your nose gave a sharp twinge of pain.

"Dick. " You said that in regards to him, for every aspect of his personality. Because Billy Hargrove was what others considered a giant dick.

If you hadn't suspected it before you were sure when you heard the wheels start to turn again, the shift of a gear springing the Camaro back to life. And then footsteps, louder than the car itself, were slapping against the asphalt.

"Are you out of your fucking mind!?" You raised your head, eyes coming to focus on Billy's very fucking pissed form towering above you. Arms crossed defensively, face twisted with irritation as he glared down at you with something close to— well it looked a lot like anger but Billy only knew one of three emotions and that was definitely not concern.

"Fuck you. " You managed through a puddle of blood in your mouth that you promptly spit out, only having realized it was there the moment it began forming bubbles when you tried to speak.

Billy's voice stuttered in reply. "What the fuck is your problem? Do you want to fucking kill yourself or something?! "

"Better than death by fucking vehicular manslaughter on the account of Billy fucking Hargrove. " You muttered, hands pressing into the road to give you leverage when you attempt to stand up. Your body immediately yells a no to this action and you lay right back down on the road.

"What?" Billy is completely distraught in the sense that his brain has seemed to burst due the sheer incomprability of your actions.

"Oh I don't know, Billy, maybe the next time I feel like killing myself I'll call you and we'll go a hundred miles an hour off the fucking side of a cliff. "

The boys eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline as he stared at you.

"Watch me die like an old school movie where they're surrounded by bubbles and colors and shit. "

You spit the last remnants of blood from your mouth and Hargroves face ran red and blue. "Can you fucking shut the fuck up and get up already before anyone sees you. " He demanded, practically dancing around your form. Arms stretched out with a stance that reminded you very much of a gymnast.

"No. No. I think I'll lay here for a sec. " You roll onto your backside, a groan in your voice, arms folding over your body, posed like a corpse.

Billy stops in his antics and stares at you incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Very serious, yes. " Your voice almost comes out like a sigh.

Billy reels, and if it wasn't for the fact your eyes were sealed shut now, you'd be able to see the absolute bewilderment of the teen as he stood there in the middle of the empty street. Arms half poised over you but not touching your form. As if he didn't know what do with you.

"...Get up. " He demands, standing straight again, his hands on his waist. This time he's not commanding you in that cold manner. There's a little rise to his voice like he's beginning to lose his patience, his forehead furrowing with anger.

You take another few moments to enjoy the silence. You swear you hear a cicada or something squeak from a window sill nearby and the air felt cooler than it has in weeks. Until it all becomes overbearing and your chest burns from a lack of oxygen. You didn't even realize you were holding your breath.

You open an eye to test the waters.

Billy's scowling now, a hand on his hip and the other resting across his forehead in disbelief. At you or the situation, you weren't entirely sure. Both you imagined. But there was a certain look on his face like he was ready to pull some kind of theatric, a reaction, throw a punch to knock some sense into you but ultimately decided against it.

"Where do you live?" He asked the question in such a manner that you couldn't help but be wary of his intentions.

"...Why?" You asked, the caution obvious in your voice. As he loomed over you like that... it wasn't doing a whole lot of trust building.

You almost hear the growl of frustration from his throat as he began rocking on the balls of his feet, hands swinging like he wasn't able to grab hold of something. "So we can fucking go. Before someone calls the fucking cops. "

You still hesitated.

"Before I fuck you up so hard they'll have to identify you by your fucking sperm. " Okay there were his threats. But they lacked the substance of his normal demeanor. He didn't seem overly angry like he typically did but still, his body gave some kind of look as though he couldn't quite will himself to control the way it trembled with adrenaline.

"Nice one, but you're not my type. " Another bite and a second of Billy looking absolutely befuddled as he tried to keep his voice down. His glare had weakened but only because he was taken off guard, and his cocky expression fell to a tight line.

You watched as he took a moment to look around the empty street. The lights weren't too bright so you couldn't make out that typical, telltale flush of his skin that you've grown accustomed to in his anger.

Your eyes flickered across his face, scanning every inch like a beacon. Curiously, you looked at him the same way he always did. Maybe you'd find some sort of answer hidden somewhere behind his icy blues.

The look on his face was strange. Pensive.

"Get up, Y/N. " An even voice this time. Calming maybe. And to think, all it took was a slightly gay comment in order to simmer the violent bastard.

You half wondered where the fag-bashing erratic moron went. Maybe he'd packed his bags and runaway. You could hope.

You did more than that infact, you put that right there on your bucket list, and with a frown, more for yourself than anything else, you looked away from the boy above you.

"Fine. Alright. " Your movements were stiff with pain as you moved to push yourself up by the palms of your hand, your arms trembling beneath the weight. The skin on your hand and forearm burned with a stinging sensation.

Billy watched at your pathetic attempts, a sneer or two on his face but he didn't seem to offer much help until it'd all get too pathetic and he had to reach out and aid you.

"Idiot. " His lip curled as his palm met yours, his fingers holding onto the back of your hand tight as possible.

You stumbled slightly upon becoming fully upright, teetering against Billy for a moment as you took a minute to regain your ground.

"Yeah, well whose fucking fault is that. " You've developed a lovely habit of hissing through your teeth with an unnecessary amount of spite. You're surprised Billy hasn't knocked you on your ass and left you for dead by now.

He scoffs, trying to put as much distance between the two of you while still having your arm linked through his, helping you along. To the ignorant eye, you suppose this would look platonic enough but anyone that knew the two of you well would certainly think otherwise.

Billy's all rigid limbs and stunted movements. Even when you'd finally started to walk on your own and your grip on his arm began to slack, he held firm with a grip like a vise.

And by the time you're at the passenger's side, he's shoving you into the seat and you nearly knock your head on the top of car.

You didn't bother giving a remark when he practically seethed through his teeth, slamming the door in your face. He strode around the car like a man on a mission.

"If you go more than 5 over the speed limit—" You felt the warning die on your tongue when you saw the look of pure anger etched onto Billy's face.

"You'll jump out. Yeah. " His hand came down on the shifter. "Got it. "

There was a part of your brain that you didn't recognize that was screaming in terror, completely and totally convinced you were going to die tonight at the hands of the ever brooding Billy Hargrove.

But much to your surprise, Billy maintains that 5 mile leway the entire drive home even when there's barely a car in the streets. He hadn't muttered a single word since throwing his angry body in the driver's seat.

Instead, he'd cranked up the music all the way as if it'd some how compensate for the lack of speed and conversation, not that there would be much to say anyway.

You hadn't bothered looking at him. He hadn't bothered looking at you. But somehow, in one way or another, the feeling as if you were watching each other was even more abundant in the silence.

Whatever hostility had remained from Billy's mood in the first half of the night had receded back into his depths for later. Though the occasional frown on his face never quite leaves no matter what, his eyes are softer now.

And by the time he's pulling into the dirt driveway of your home, the soft beams of amber and yellow from the streetlights dimly hitting half his face, there's no sign of anger or any real semblance of emotion. It's oddly quiet, and the only thing to really speak up was the steady rumble of the engine.

"Thanks. " You beckon quickly and with reluctantance as you awkwardly grabbed at the door handle, trying to turn as quickly as you could while still maintaining balance. Anything just to get out of his car and away from the guy.

"Y/N. " He voices and the moment you pull at the handle you come to find it's resistance. A dull tingle shoots up your spine and the hair on the back of your neck raises with tension.

You turn, facing the teen who kept an unconcerned façade. He was a calm still pond with blue eyes flickering like small waves in the face of a strong wind, and although most times they were ice and snow that held such a cold, unforgiving passion of arrogance, there were times they were the ripples of a breeze.

Now was one of those times.

"Don't go around pulling fucking stunts like that. "

That was definitely closer to a warning than anything else that had come from his lips the entirety of the night.

"This is coming from the guy who beat my ass into the concrete two months ago. " And at this point, you were too exhausted to be filled with spite for the boy.

His posture falters and not just figuratively. There's a shift to the way he's sitting but the flicker of his eyes remains. Even with you half turned, his stare remained. In fact, it seems to have gotten all the more intense.

"What's it to you anyway? " The way he tilted his head might have been endearing in another life. Now, it seemed to hold meaning, the way a predator stalks its prey with such observant behavior before sinking its teeth into its jugular.

His gaze on you could have bored into your brain, much like a drill for how quick your defenses seemed to start dissolving.

He'd always looked at you like this. Whether or not you caught his eyes on you was by chance.

In class, in the halls, it was all the same to him. He'd get one look and that was about all it took. He'd stare with the attention like an interrogation, as if trying to decode some secret behind your stature, trying to pick you apart bit by bit with those watchful baby blue's of his. And if there was no easy route to doing that he'd dig his little meat hooks into you until there was.

You were all he'd focus on. Not you in particular. More so the idea of you.

Whatever that meant.

Of course the only instance Billy looked at you without fail, hard looked at you like the blue was about to spill out of his eyes and swallow you up like a tsunami, was when he was a little tipsy or riled up with heat and fury. But like most of Billy's emotions, they were very intense. Too intense for something as simple as just a fucking stare. It almost gave you the illusion of a dangerous threat that made your skin buzz with goosebumps, your nerves rattling in their sockets.

He was doing the same now, except, the only difference was that he wasn't pissed faced or smoldering with alcohol this time. In the confines of his car, beneath the yellow white shine of the nearby street lights, he couldn't tear his gaze away even if you begged.

Billy was the sort of thing to stop you mid thought when you glance and feel your limbs freeze, suddenly petrified with all this uneasiness and sudden confusion as to why there was only one sort of definition to put on why you felt such things whenever his presence was met with a hundred paces of distance.

"I..." He starts but his voice falls flat. Something beyond frustration, something between anger and concern. The sort of look that told you he was working something out in his mind. Or he just couldn't find the proper word choice that didn't end in an f-bomb at the end of his sentence.

He's still staring, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours, like a candle wick in the night. Wavering. Stuttering. Inconsistent uncertainty.

Like he's just asking for guidance to fill his barren vocabulary, the words never existing like an undiscovered civilization in his brain, unable to conjure up the sort of speech that would get him what he wanted.

An abrupt sense of panic washed over you. You inhaled sharply and you didn't let the breath go until your next move was placed in front of you like a chess piece on the board and you couldn't take the time to think out any future moves on your part.

All of your attention was pulled to him, focused entirely. The way he moved, the way he breathed, it left a tingling feeling trailing behind him like some faint breeze of emotion.

Everything stilled, it was him and you. Him. And you.

And he's just looking at you like that. Mouth halfway opened and the noise of shallow heavy breaths were the only sounds falling from his lips while he's looking at you all wide-eyed, like some fresh-faced virgin whose never seen one in person before.

You cursed yourself. Cursed the wind. Cursed the ground. Cursed Billy and his stupid face. And every corner of his stupid car and everything else about him. You can curse the sun but that'd probably be a step too far. Especially the moment you met those watchful pools of sea foam.

Fucking Billy Hargrove and his stupid, fucking car and his even more stupid...

Lips.

Lips and teeth.

Teeth, pale pink lips.

Blue eyes, long lashes.

Stupid fucking curly hair.

The sort of curly where it always managed to get you by the tips, tangling its brambles in your fingers and refusing to let go.

Which is why the second Billy made a small noise– not even really a noise, it's a breath. A single exhale that hits your nose, hits you the way nothing has before, and it causes a wave of heat to wash over you, overtaking your senses.

You grab those curls, your fingers entwine them and his breath is alot heavier, alot hotter as his hands grip tightly onto your shirt, like he's a frightened child.

His lips are wet.

He's messy.

Sloppy.

Like he's never kissed before in his life. Lips that keep moving, and his tongue is too sensitive, too eager.

Every sharp inhale of breath reeks of sweat and chlorine.

There's no time to stop and make sense of the situation.

He's scrambling over the middle console, desperate hands gripping on your collar and in any other scenario, this would've been the step before he plummeted his fist into your face. But there's hardly anything suggesting that. At least not without the time to see the tiny trail of tears lining Billy's eyes, glossing his cheeks.

He tastes as he looks. Like liquid gold with his tongue rubbing against yours in a hot mass of burning motion. And any semblance of a rational train of thought was chucked out the window.

There was enough room in the front seat for a teenage boy and then some. Billy Hargrove was not such a teenage boy. There was barely enough room to shift and breathe and wriggle around in this half straddle.

You can faintly hear a heavy car pass over a mound in the road, an off balance tire or perhaps someone forgot to inflate it and the uneven troll on the road, not entirely deafening, but it's there. And Billy hears it and he jumps from you, leg grazing the shifter, head knocking into the top of the roof.

His ears are steaming red as he all but falls into the driver's seat, face flustered and hair slightly disheveled.

He's looking around like a wild animal caught in a trap and he can't escape, eyes flickering back and forth; from the gearshift all the way to the rear view mirror and then to your face.

Pupils shot open, dark and wide, and a hand coming up to press on his forehead, eyes squinting.

"Billy‐ " It's a start, but it doesn't stay long enough to be deemed a full sentence, not with his name lingering on your lips while you try to swallow down the heat in the pit of your stomach. Billy's looking at you, breathing heavy.

"Get out. " He mutters forcefully, the lock clicks open and when his hand comes up to rub across his face, it's shaking.

"Billy. " More insistent this time.

He looks a few shades redder than when he was before, his head snaps back to meet your stare, hair curling beneath his ears in a gentle mess, curls threatening to fall into his face.

"Get out!" His voice pitches, breaks into something close to a sob and Billy swings his arm wildly, fist connecting with the steering wheel and there's a loud honk as a warning before he shouts again. "Get the fuck out, you fucking faggot!" His voice reverberates across the entire neighborhood, shattering your ear drums in the process.

There's dogs barking from far away, probably due to the horn.

You hesitated but only for a moment before swinging the door open, just barely missing the opportunity to knock the shit out of your leg by the time Billy decided to slam down his foot on the pedal. The door shuts fast. The car speeds off before it has the chance.

You watched him drive away, with just as much intensity as the boy inside the car watched you in the rearview.

As your house began to shrink away into the distance, and the glare of the car grew smaller and smaller. You could hardly see those searing blue eyes the way you did in class. Though this time, instead of a look of hatred or scorn, it was one of fear and dread.

And maybe, just maybe, if there were more light shining on his face, it would reflect a thousand scenarios playing on his cheeks. Not that you would've been able to tell from all the way out here.

"Fuck. "

#stranger things #billy hargrove x male reader #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #will byers #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #max mayfeild #dustin henderson #angst #billy hargrove is gay

134 notes · View notes

soloroomies · 3 months

Text

lifemate (Chapter 4/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: talking about the details of your arrangement with Kiyoomi word count. 2.4k cw. marriage pact au, mature content, suggestive a/n. it's here!! the marriage is happening!!(＞0＜；；；) Masterlist

When you step inside your apartment, your heart starts to pound hard. The full realization dawns on you quickly. The fuck. You can't be like this. You fan your face, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. You kind of feel like screaming. “You can't be like this,” you repeat the words loudly to yourself.

Why do you feel this way, though? You despise yourself for it. Maybe the idea of tying the knot with someone is really getting to you. You walk to your kitchen and gulp down some cold water to hydrate your throat. You need to be logical about this. Gosh, you need your best friend, Tami, right now. But she’s probably asleep already; it’s almost 1 am. So, you send some urgent texts to her, telling her that you’ll meet Sakusa tomorrow. You also send her a message that says something like, “The marriage plan is happening!! I’m gonna make a list of things that I need to discuss w him. Please give me ideas for some important topics!:( Love u.” You know your best friend can at least give you some pointers, especially since she's been married for four years.

You start to clean yourself up, changing your clothes, removing your makeup, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and doing a quick skincare routine. Now that you’re more comfortable, you might think more clearly. You check the time on your phone and lie down on your bed. Okay. You’ll make a few points yourself first.

You try to think hard, but nothing substantial comes up. So, you search for it on Google. You click on some articles and jot down notes in your notes app. You can't write much because you find some topics aren't relatable to your situation. Some of them are too real couple things. For example: "How to spend the right time together?" or "What happens if you feel like you’re drifting apart?" type of questions. That’s totally not relatable, right? A few topics that you’ve written down are: finances (how will you split the bill?), where you will live, personal space, and how you will divide the chores. Before you know it, your eyes start to close as you drift off to sleep.

When you wake up, it's because of the constant vibration from your phone. You check it and see that it’s still around 7 am. The vibration is from Tami’s texts. You quickly check her responses.

She lists a few topics, some of which are already written in your notes app. Then, there are some you haven't listed before:

1. Who is allowed to know about this pact? Damn, she’s right. You'll need to create your version of a love story either way.

2. How would this marriage be? Can each of you date other people, or do you want to be exclusive? Oh. Right. You’ve thought about this before, too. This is important.

3. The wedding. How big should it be? Yup, you still need to talk about this.

4. Physical intimacy? (P.S. Please talk about this, girl! You’re stupid if you’re not getting that dick)

You roll your eyes. This is so her. But then you start to reflect on yourself. Sex? Of course, you're no virgin. You’re sure he’s not either. But, to be honest, you can’t really remember the last time you had sex. Damn! You think it was years ago with your last situationship. Yes, you’ve had your share of one-night stands, but that was in your early 20s. You just know that those kinds of activities are not that safe. Not that you judge anyone who does it, but for you, you usually do it with someone you trust pretty well. And there aren't a lot of men that you can trust to do that. Plus, the act is often disappointing. So, sex isn’t your top priority nowadays. Yes, you have your needs, but you could always take care of yourself. So far, so good. It’s manageable. You’re not sure how to bring this topic up to Kiyoomi, though. It feels wrong too to imagine stuff like that with him. You huff. You won't bring this up.

5. Children? Hmm, you haven’t really thought about this topic.

Do you want children? Yes, you do, but it's not like you really want them. You guess it’s just because of an image of a perfect family you had in your head since you were little. This discussion will also complicate some financial topics. And you don’t know whether Kiyoomi wants children or not. So, you might skip this part. This is not something you considered when agreeing to this anyway.

6. Deal breakers? You can’t really think of what this would relate to in your relationship right now. Since there’s no romance involved, right? You might as well skip this part.

You type your thanks profusely to Tami and then start your Sunday morning by snacking on your energy bar. You'll have your breakfast with Sakusa. Then, you take a shower and get ready. After you finish getting ready, you check your phone and see some messages from Sakusa saying he’s on his way to your apartment. His trip to your place usually takes about 20 minutes. So, you sit on your couch and continue watching the series you haven’t finished.

A few minutes later, your phone vibrates. It's a text from Sakusa saying he’s arrived. You quickly respond and make your way downstairs. Spotting his car, you knock on the passenger seat window. He opens the door, and you slide in.

"Hey," you greet him.

"Hey," he replies. "Where do you want to eat?"

You suggest a restaurant not too far from your apartment that serves good avocado toast and truffle mushroom benedict. He agrees and starts to drive there.

As he drives, you take a moment to look at him. He's wearing a dark green corduroy jacket over a white shirt and black shorts. He’s not wearing his mask, but you notice the mask box between your seats. He smells good, a pleasant combination of his shampoo, soap, and cologne. He always smells good, you realize.

The car ride is quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that feels natural rather than awkward. As you approach the restaurant, you feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness about the conversation that awaits.

As soon as you arrive, both of you order avocado toast and coffee. You finish your breakfast first, then you start the discussion. “So? Where do we start from here? Do you have anything in mind?” you ask.

Sakusa nods. “I do. Do you?”

“Yes,” you reply. Then you start to run through your list. For the financial topics, Sakusa insists on paying all the bills related to your living place: housing, electricity, and water. But you're confused. “Then, what should I pay for?” you ask.

“Some of the groceries, I guess.” Sakusa replies.

“What? No. I can’t. At least let me pay for the water or something, too?” you protest.

“Please. Just let me pay for that,” he insists.

You have never seen him plead before, but seeing his face now, you think this might be as close to pleading as he gets. “I’ve told you, you can leave some of your jobs if you’d like. It’s better for your health, too, I guess…” you can hear a hint of concern in his voice.

You're silent for a moment but then accept his offer, albeit reluctantly. Maybe you should try to relax a bit more. Isn't that one of the perks of this marriage pact? You then move to the next part, which is the living place. He suggests you move into his apartment, and you think it's more reasonable since he has three rooms in his apartment, allowing you to have one as your own room.

“How about personal space?” you ask.

“What about it?” Sakusa responds.

“Do you have a room or place that you won’t allow other people, like me, to enter?”

He’s silent for a bit. “My room.”

You nod your head. You’re no stranger to his need for personal space. In fact, you remember some of his past girlfriends complaining about it. He's the type of person who’s quite rigid about his boundaries. You'll try your best not to cross any of them. You express this concern to him, asking him to please let you know if you ever step over any boundaries. He answers with a simple "okay."

Next, you start to discuss the chores. You both conclude that he’ll be the one who cleans around the house, and you offer to be the chef. You’re not the best cook, but you’re also not bad. You'll do this since you'll have more spare time after letting go of some of your side jobs. Laundry will be done alternately each week.

Then, you start to discuss the topic list that Tami has given you. You both agree that the only ones who will know about this pact are the two of you, Komori, and Tami. You already told him that you shared this with her, and he’s understanding about that. He tells you that he already informed Komori about this plan as well. You’re a bit surprised, wondering whether Komori has known since the New Year party or before that. If he knew, he seemed nonchalant about it. But, he will definitely tease you about this.

The love story for both of you will be simple. You know each other since high school, secretly liked each other, and have been secretly dating for a year before deciding to get married. That’s just perfect. Your parents also know each other, and your mom has teased you about him before. Quite early in your friendship, even though you clearly stated to her that you considered him just a friend. Well, she might be quite shocked and cocky, having her “I told you so” moment upon hearing this wedding news. It’s okay; you’ll just have to deal with it for a bit.

You then mention the wedding and tell him that you actually want to have an intimate one. He agrees and chimes in that he needs to inform his manager as well since there will likely be some media coverage for an athlete's wedding. You nod, remembering Komori’s wedding. You hope there will be no big commotion from the public. You know he has some persistent fangirls and just hope they won’t give you threats or anything. Fingers crossed, you sigh. This is for Kiyoomi’s benefit too. You remember he always says he struggles with rejecting gifts and random confessions; maybe this marriage will reduce those kinds of things.

“How would this marriage be? Can each of us date another person, or do we want to be exclusive?” you read from your notes. He stares at you. “I think it’s up to you.”

You nod at his statement, understanding that it’s also up to him. It’s reasonable. Why would this marriage stop him from getting any girl he wants? You don’t know much about his hook-up activities, never inquiring about them either. He’s very private about that. You sigh mentally, feeling a tinge of insecurity, which you think is stupid. You can’t be unfair to him. “Yeah, let’s just be careful about it. We can’t let people know, though. It’ll look bad on us,” you respond, staring down at your phone.

You don’t hear his response and see the notes on your app, deciding to skip some of the topics that you're not sure how to bring up. “Is there anything you want to add?” you ask him.

“Will you take my family name?” he asks.

You think for a moment and nod. “I will.” Then, you start to repeat your name with ‘Sakusa’ in front of it in your head. You kind of want to laugh, thinking that you used to call him by his family name during your early years of friendship. Now, that name will be yours too.

After that, you delve into detailing the aspects of your wedding. You had stated earlier that you wanted an intimate ceremony, so you emphasize making the wedding small and estimating the budget, aiming to keep it as economical as possible and split it 50/50. Sakusa interjects again, insisting he’ll just pay it all. You don’t mind the budget since it’s much cheaper compared to what some of your friends usually spend. You also have enough savings for it. After a bit of disagreement, you settle on an 80/20 split.

Your wedding will be held in mid-February with a garden party theme, which you suggest. All the preparations will be handled by a wedding organizer that you both found together. Sakusa is actually very cooperative, offering to contact the wedding organizer and jotting down some of the information you discuss together on his phone’s notes. You thought he’d be bored with such detailed discussions, but he had even done a lot of research beforehand and gave you insights about the wedding experiences of his relatives and friends. You heard from some of your friends that their partners didn’t really put in the effort and handed it all over to the woman. So, you’re very glad he’s not like that. After all, marriage takes two people to make it work.

You both then decide that everything sounds good and finalize the plans. As you’re about to stand up, he suddenly grabs your hand. You look at him and see him hesitating a bit.

“What? Is there something wrong?” you ask.

He then pulls you down, prompting you to sit again beside him. You stare at him curiously as his hand moves inside his jacket pocket, taking out something. It’s a box. A ring box! You realize, flabbergasted by his action. Your mouth falls open.

“Wait, wait. What?” you stammer, staring at the navy velvet ring box.

He proceeds to open it, showing a silver ring. You notice that the ring features a row of detailed Forget-Me-Not flowers running into delicate leaves on either side of the band. You’re totally speechless. You didn’t expect him to give you a ring right now. You thought you could just buy some matching rings together that simply show “Yeah, we’re married.” But this ring in front of you looks expensive as hell.

“I know this kind of marriage is something you never expected. I know this is not something you dreamed of either. But let me make this a bit proper. I want you to have this,” Sakusa says.

You feel like crying, touched by his sentiment. He then slides the ring onto your finger, and you can’t help but thank him and hug him, driven by your emotions. You widen your eyes, taken aback, and mumble a quick apology, afraid that you’ve invaded his personal space or something. But he hugs you back.

It seems like this marriage pact isn’t so bad, after all.

87 notes · View notes

genshingorlsrevengeance · 6 months

Note

GFL girls watching a horror movie with their S/O?

yeah I rewatched emesis blue and I need to see other people get scared

(GFL) Kalina, Helianthus, G36, AK-15, RPK-16, Architect, Scarecrow, M16A1, G11, and HK416 watching a horror movie with their S/O

I just finished watching Stasis: Bone Totem for the past 7 hours personally. I'm sad now.

Kalina happily snuggles next to S/O, eating popcorn as S/O held onto her for dear life.

She wasn't that troubled by the horror movie they put on.

Mostly because it gave her some fantastic ideas for Halloween this year!

(S/O) "K-Kalina, why are you smiling?!"

(Kalina) "Hm...I think I can recreate that with some of the T-Dolls, the way we can utilize our stealth tech can make one helluva haunted mansion!"

(S/O) "You're going to monetize ghosts?!"

(Kalina) "Heck yeah, I am!"

She does jump at a few of the scares but laughs them off.

Helian can't help but wonder if this is what the younger couples did nowadays. Or rather, if they still did this kind of thing.

She sat with S/O in the darkness, huddled up next to them on the couch as the TV provided their entertainment for the night.

(Helianthus) "I doubt that this movie will be that scary."

It in fact, was that scary.

Some of the scares get Helian to scream, latching onto S/O.

Which she immediately tries to clear her throat and preserve some dignity.'

(Helianthus) "...Tell anyone about this, and you're a dead man/woman."

G36 has to put on her glasses in order to watch the film properly.

She couldn't help but fidget a little, she wasn't used to just...sitting down and doing nothing.

But admittedly, it was a nice change of pace.

G36 flinches at some of the scares, but she can't help but laugh at least a little, making sure S/O was comfortable.

Or more accurately, not scared out their mind.

(G36) "You are shaking a lot. Do you require warmer blankets?"

(S/O) "N-NO! Just...s-stay here, don't leave me alone!"

(G36) "Necromorphs are not real-"

(S/O) "C-Can we make sure the vents are locked tight tonight?"

G36 just smiles at that.

15 doesn't really understand why S/O is watching horror movies if they were scared of it.

If this was just some elaborate ruse just for 15 to hold them tightly, they could've just asked her directly.

Regardless, she obliges them because it made them happy.

She doesn't react in the slightest to any of the scares, finding the whole concepts of ghosts and spirits illogical.

(AK-15) "You know they don't exist S/O. Why are you so afraid?"

(S/O) "I-I don't know! It just freaks me out, alright?!"

She notices their heartbeat calms down at least a little if her arms are wrapped around them, which she comfortably holds them in her grasp the duration of the movie and night.

At least they trusted her strength so much, they believed she could punch a demon back to hell.

That makes her pride go up an substantial amount, though she doesn't vocalize it.

Otherwise, she doesn't flinch from a single thing in the movie, even the more grotesque parts.

16 is highly amused the entire time, watching as S/O is latching onto her during the movie.

She also can't help but wonder why humans would make something so strange.

Did they want to be scared? Was the human race nothing but masochists?

(RPK-16) "Why exactly did we choose this type of movie tonight, S/O? You seem to be trembling."

(S/O) "Well, I thought it'd be fun..."

(RPK-16) "Hm, well it gives me a few ideas on how to get some interesting reactions out of you at least."

For the remainder of the night, she has a smug grin on her face as S/O squirms and yelps from the scares.

She began to ponder on what exactly S/O was afraid of. The girl with long hair, the loud noises? This was going to be a fun time experimenting!

She isn't affected by the movie at all, save for getting ideas to scare S/O.

Architect is absolutely terrified with S/O, making her almost drop the bucket of popcorn and candy she has.

(Architect) "AGH! DID YOU SEE THAT?!"

(S/O) "W-WHAT?! NO, WHAT?!"

Like S/O, she gets way too immersed in the film and the both of them are shaking in fear.

When they go to bed, Architect has her weapon directly next to the bedside, with S/O making no complaints.

(Architect) "I-If any demon bastard wants to go through that door, they'll be blown the hell up!"

(S/O) "...Wait, this is my room. Why did you have that in here to begin with-"

(Architect) "For situations like these! I don't wanna be killed by some ghost!"

Scarecrow finds this whole ordeal illogical. She doesn't get scared by anything, let alone by human entertainment.

The reason why S/O called her to watch these escaped her, but it's not like she had anything better to do.

She blankly stares at the screen as she feels S/O hug her tightly, her irises adjusting to the brightness of the screen.

Her voice remains monotone the entire time, slightly muffled by her mask.

(Scarecrow) "...Do I scare you as much as the scarecrow in this film, S/O?"

(S/O) "Um...Not really, you're a lot cuter.-"

Her eyes glanced over to S/O, noticing that they weren't teasing, mostly due to being afraid.

She finds amusement in their terror, but doesn't make a comment on their compliment.

(Scarecrow) "That is obvious."

(S/O) "UWAGH!?"

Scarecrow is held even tighter, making her sigh. Why are humans like this?

M16 just smirks when S/O asks her to watch a horror movie with them.

(M16A1) "Don't worry, I'm so bad that not even any monster will come near me!"

She puffs her chest out in pride when S/O finds comfort in her arms.

(M16A1) "Psh, I could beat the hell out of that blue demon."

(S/O) "B-But that's a supernatural ghost! You can't shoot ghosts!"

(M16A1) "I can sure try!"

She has the biggest smile on her face, just getting to enjoy this moment with S/O.

She's not really affected by the scares in the movie, just finding it funny more than anything.

G11 would be fast asleep if S/O didn't wake her up from their screaming.

The entire time, she is held like a teddy bear in S/O's arms, making her slightly annoyed.

(G11) "Loud..."

(S/O) "How can you sleep through that screaming and bloodshed?!"

(G11) "...It's not real."

(S/O) "B-BUT IT LOOKS SO REAL!"

(G11) "...Hm...I'm going back to sleep..."

She drools on their arms while S/O is never ever letting go of G11, for less romantic reasons this time around.

Not that she minded entirely, since it was comfortable.

Until S/O screamed and shook her awake, making her eyes groggily open before shutting again.

HK416 obliges S/O in watching horror movies.

After all, nothing like having the best T-Doll protect them, even from something as mundane as a film.

She only gets scared, because S/O screamed directly next to her.

(HK416) "GAH! God damn-why are you so loud?!"

(S/O) "S-Sorry, it just scared me!"

She rolls her eyes when she feels S/O get closer to her. A slight blush came to her cheeks as she muttered something under her breath.

(HK416) "If you were going to piss yourself, why are we doing this?"

(S/O) "I...I thought I could look braver if I could watch this with you here..."

(HK416) "Heh, some job you're doing."

She's going to lord it over her S/O that she wasn't scared once from the movie.

Until the final jumpscare made her recoil into S/O's arms, turning the tables.

69 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 10 months

Text

hi loves

a wee announcement/bit of reflection below the cut

nothing heavy, just some thoughts & updates

First of all, I want to say I love this fandom so much. Truly I do. It has carried me though possibly the hardest, loneliest year of my life (and this ol' girl has been though some dark times). I've made friendships here that I hope to cherish for the rest of my life.

I came into fanfiction in October of last year, after not writing anything substantial for almost a decade. My dear friend at the time said she was looking for a specific Eddie Munson story, so I wrote it for her. I wrote it in first person because I didn't even understand how "reader perspective" was a thing, that's how wet behind the ears I was to this world. My friend, on the other hand, is a well-versed fic reader, and I distinctly remember messaging her like, "okay, what the hell is a Y/N??"

I spent that entire dark, cold winter writing and passing it to her in parts like notes in a classroom. The rush of getting back to something I loved so deeply after so much time away turned me into a monster. I lived and breathed that story. We sent endless messages back and forth every day about what each character would do next, imagining ourselves in that world, with Eddie. We made playlists, we cried. We screamed and giggled and kicked our feet when they finally kissed. We mourned the loss when it ended and moped around a bit before going back to read it all over again. Some 40k words and four months later I realized, holy shit, I think I write fanfiction now?

In a way, fanfiction saved my life. It brought me back to a part of myself I had buried, a part of me that worried it might never see the light of day again. It came crawling out of the ground, gasping for air like, "you better stretch your fingers bitch because I have a lot to say."

In April, I started posting here when the fandom was notably beginning to wane, but I was happy to see there were so many still going hard for our man. I kinda creeped in, like a little scuttling crab, and was grateful to find that a handful of you embraced me.

Long story short, I am NOT leaving, not at all. I know the tone is there, but that is not what this is, lmao. I will hopefully keep this blog for as long as you will have me. I plan to finish writing I'm on Fire and Death Becomes Us, as well as maybe another bit for gargoyle!Eddie, and nightmare!Eddie, but the other series I've started (or planned to start) will stay on hiatus for a while, possibly forever. I will continue to post blurbs and hc's and whatnot, but I won't be committing to any new series or long fics.

My masterlists will remain intact for the time being for those who want to enjoy what is there. That being said, The Nightmare Factory and Stop the World and Melt with You, might be taken down in the future only because I plan to re-work them into original stories. I have a second non-fandom blog in the works that is dedicated to monsters, nightmares, and magic realism, and I will let those who are interested know about it when the time comes.

Mostly, I wanted to let you know that, even if you notice some changes, I will continue to persist with "My 2 Joe's" delulu era, possibly until the earth swallows me up. I am no longer taking requests, but my asks will always be open for thots, blurbs, obsessions, etc. You know how much I love hearing from you.

That's all really. Perhaps this is simply one of those "end of year" thought dumps, but I also wanted to say a heartfelt Thank You to those who continue to support me, enjoy my work, and share it. My Ride or Die monsterfuckers and biker Eddie enthusiasts. My nightmare Eddie dreamers, my Twilight Zone Eddie pineapple heads. My gargoyle Eddie romantics who cheer on our Stone Boy, and my Hybrid Steve lovers who leave their windows open at night. My True Blood friends who appreciate a vampire Eddie who is nothing like Bill Compton. My darlings, my fellow rebel rousers and misfits, my friends.

This is a very symbiotic relationship, and I could not/would not do this without you ❤️

#Betty thoughts #delulu for life

80 notes · View notes

cheeriecherrymain · 1 year

Note

Please can we have the conclusion to the lipstick ask? I wanna hear what Viktor has to say and how he's gonna apologize for being dumb

Final (fourth) Part!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

---

Viktor x fem!Reader (18+)

Content tags: enthusiastic blowjobs | face sitting | Viktor being kind of a tease | vaginal fingering

---

-You stand in your doorway, frozen. Of all the people you’d expected to see at your door - a stranger, a delivery driver, one of your neighbors - Viktor is not one of them. After everything that had transpired between the two of you, you were certain that he wouldn’t have wanted to seek you out.

-After staring at him for a moment though, completely perplexed, your gaze darts downwards, to where he’d fidgeting with his hands. Or rather…to where he’s fidgeting with…a potted plant?

-It’s just a small pot, with an even smaller leafy thing in it - scraggly and viney and drooping all over the edges. The poor thing almost looks pathetic, with how wispy it is, but what’s most notable about it are its flowers.

-Bitty bundles of miniscule blooms, so pale that they almost glow in the gloom of the evening.

- “You don’t like it when people behead flowers just to give them as gifts,” Viktor says, finally breaking the silence. “You think it’s mean. But I…wanted to get you something, and you mentioned a while ago that you’d never seen the little plants that sometimes pop up between cracks in the undercity.”

-You frown slightly, trying to think back to when you’d even had that conversation. It would have been years ago, by now. Had he really somehow retained that information?

- “You said that they were hard to find,” you nod along, only somewhat remembering. “And prettier in person. Viktor, what are you doing here?”

-He glances a couple times between you and the flowers, searching desperately for words. He opens his mouth a couple of times, taking a breath to start speaking, but…nothing comes out, save for a soft croak.

-Pink rises to his cheeks, darkening to a substantial flush the longer the two of you stand there. You have half the mind to be annoyed with his sudden appearance, especially after the kind of emotional hell he’d put you through: was this him trying to apologize? Trying to make things right after carving your heart out and grinding it into-

- “I had a whole speech planned,” he finally mutters, his somewhat-hopeful expression falling. “Some grand gesture, explaining everything from my perspective. Explaining how inebriated I was over the weekend, explaining that my mind was not where it should have been.”

-Oh.

-So he’s apologizing for sleeping with you.

-...why does that hurt so much?

- “This morning, though,” he continues, “You…you said that you…told me how you felt. That you, despite all odds, have secretly been harboring romantic feelings for me for years, and I’ve been stupid and oblivious.”

-He rubs little circles into the crisp clay of the pot in his grip, his lips pressed into a thin line.

- “I don’t remember,” he admits, then.

-You’re fully taken aback.

- “I don’t remember you telling me how you felt. I don’t remember much of our conversation at all. I just…remember laughing with you. Having a good time. Feeling lighter than I have in as long as my memory goes. And I…I don’t remember a lot of what happened…later.”

-Judging by the hue of his cheeks, you know exactly what he’s referencing, and you pop out of your little trance long enough to realize that you’re still standing in the doorway of your home, out where anyone could hear what you were saying.

-Everything in you is screaming at you not to trust him, to not fall for some kind of ploy again, but you decide to ignore it: because maybe you’d been wrong from the start. Maybe you’d been given the incorrect information, and you’d made assumptions, and maybe it’s a misunderstanding.

-Unlikely, but…you’ll hate yourself for it later if you don’t at least hear him out.

-So you quietly step aside, allowing Viktor to stride into your apartment enough for you to close the door behind him. Casting you both into a new type of silence as you both idle at the end of the hallway for a couple seconds.

-Before you nod him further in, and lead him to your quaint living room. Your couches are mismatched, and dated, but they’re comfortable and you don’t really care about the fact that they clash. The two of you find your seats across from each other, and Viktor sets the little plant down on your wobbly coffee table.

-He wastes no time in continuing his explanation.

- “If I had remembered what words had been exchanged between us, I wouldn’t have called that night a mistake,” he tells you, with the utmost seriousness. “I woke up beside you with broken, mismatched fragments of everything, and I fear I pieced them together incorrectly.”

- “I assumed that you would be angry with me,” he admits. “We got drunk, we had sex - I figured-”

- “That I would have thought it was a mistake,” you finish, your shoulders drooping with the realization. “You forgot that I told you I loved you, so your mind went to the worst place. God, Viktor.”

-You push yourself off the couch and nearly trip over your own feet as you move your seat to his side. “I wish you’d just told me,” you chastise him, pressing yourself right up against his side. “We’re adults, which means we can have a grown up conversation.”

-He at least has the sense to look ashamed of his actions, even as you run your fingers through his hair and draw him into a hug.

- “I forgive you,” you sigh, squeezing him a little harder when he hesitates wrapping his arms around you, and only once he does so do you continue speaking, “But you need to stop trying to predict my reactions, okay? Even if you’re anxious about what I might say, I need you to trust that I’ll face any issues with compassion. I need you to trust me.”

-His sigh tickles the soft hairs on your neck, but you’re still able to feel the minute shift in his body as he nods.

- “Okay,” he agrees quietly. “I- okay.”

-The two of you stay like that for a little while, wrapped up in each other’s arms, enjoying the closeness and allowing all the negative feelings from the day to slowly dissipate. And they do, eventually - as you allow his warmth to seep into your bones, your anxiety fades, your anger fades, your sadness fades - mostly.

-You’re still saddened slightly, by the fact that his first instinct was to prepare for your anger upon finding out you slept with him. But you suppose you can’t fault him too much: he’s spent most of his life being an unwanted second thought, despite the fact that you have never seen him that way.

-But…that’s a talk for another time.

-For now, you pull back from him slightly, just enough to rest your forehead against his to stare into his pretty honey eyes. You want to warn him about what you’re going to do - after everything that’s happened, you feel like you should. But he beats you to the chase.

-Closing the small gap between you, his lips find yours. Barely a fluttering touch, soft and simple, but enough to coax you forward into something deeper. Something hotter, sending off millions of little flutters within your chest as your breath mixes and you press yourself harder against him. Or perhaps he draws you in closer.

-You’re not sure.

-You suppose it doesn’t matter.

-You’re fumbling with the buttons of his shirt after a couple of minutes, trying your best to pull away from him enough to see what you’re doing: though he’s having none of it. His lips locate some other patch of exposed skin, latching on with mischievous intent as he begins trying to leave a bruise.

- “I’m trying to get you naked,” you grumble, without any sort of malice. You can feel him grin against your throat for a moment, before he sinks his teeth in hard enough that you have to pause what you’re doing, a soft whine falling past your parted lips.

- “I’m not stopping you,” he replies, breath tickling your skin. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, though you feel nothing but affection.

-He doesn’t make removing his clothes easy for you, not by any means. He teases you relentlessly throughout the process, making little quips and remarks, just for the sake of driving you up the wall.

- “I don’t remember you being this chatty,” you huff, finally removing his shirt in the most offended manner possible. You’re covered in little bite marks by then, and riled up beyond the point of impatience: you never knew that Viktor of all people was prone to running at the mouth.

- “Perhaps you should find a way to shut me up, then?” he suggests, grinning up at you where you sit on his lap.

-It pushes you over the edge.

-You stand up without a word, shoving yourself off him in a frustrated flurry. He looks startled for a couple of moments, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head: wondering if he’d done something wrong, or if he’d overstepped, or if you’d changed your mind.

-You soften by a fraction when you realize he’s probably just nervous. He’d recently been of the mind that you were angry with him, after all, and you’re willing to bet that he’s got some residual anxiety.

- “Go and get comfy on my bed,” you tell him, nodding towards the open door that leads to your room. “If you want me to shut you up, then I’ll do so by putting your mouth to use. You seemed pretty keen on it last time, too.”

-It takes a second for him to understand what you’re implying, but the moment the pieces click into place, he’s on his feet. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move so quickly in all the time you’ve known him, and you worry for a brief second that he’s going to cause extra trouble for his knee later.

-But he’s eager to draw you out of your thoughts, gaining your attention once he disappears into the depths of your bedroom. “I thought you were going to do something,” he calls, and you can hear the brief shuffle of clothing, followed by the creak of your mattress.

- “Janna, you’re impatient,” you grumble, though you’re unable to hide the crooked grin that tugs at the corners of your mouth.

-You find him comfortably settled in the center of your bed a couple moments later, and he’s been courteous enough to divest himself of his trousers. Left them in the middle of the floor, mind you, but that’s a problem for later, you suppose.

-He smiles sweetly at you from where he reclines against all the pillows you keep the company of, and lazily gestures towards his face. “You are taking an awfully long time,” he quips.

-You narrow your eyes at him, only breaking contact when you pull your shirt over your head. You’ve half a mind to feel shy about baring yourself to him the way you are, until you remember that you’ve been here before. He might not entirely recall all of the weekend’s events, but you’re quite certain he wouldn’t forget what you look like naked.

-Despite all this, he stares. Watches with rapt attention as you kick the rest of your clothes off and carefully fold them over the back of your door. Lets his lovely honey gaze trail across every curve of your body, almost lecherous and without an ounce of shame.

- “You’re still not sitting on my face,” he tells you, though it’s less of a demand and more of a whine.

-In any case, you decide to have mercy on him. You slowly clamber onto your bed, and make your way up his body, stopping every couple inches to lay kisses to the pale warmth of his exposed flesh. Stopping for a few moments to tease him.

- “All we’ve been doing is kissing,” you murmur, staring down at where his cock lays against his tummy, already hard and flushed the prettiest shade of red at the tip. “You really want it, don’t you?”

-A sharp sigh passes his lips when you stoop down just slightly, to lick a flat stripe up the side. It’s barely enough to be considered pleasurable, and yet such a simple touch sends little tremors through his body. You watch entranced as a pearlescent bead wells from the tip of his cock, and begins drooling down towards his stomach.

-Well that won’t do, you think, and wrap your hand around him.

-His soft little sighs turn into broken cries, when you bring his length to your mouth. Closing your lips around him, you slowly start bobbing your head - it’s messy and filthy, and you can feel your spit dripping down over your fingers, slicking him up and making it easier to slide your fist around him.

-He’s less chatty now, as you’d put it, but he’s no quieter. Debauched little moans fall past his lips, without a care in the world, as you continue your onslaught. Tightening your hand by a fraction, stroking a little faster, sucking a little harder. You can feel his thighs quake beneath you, strung tight with pleasure.

- “Wait-” he gasps, and you freeze.

-You pull your mouth off him, worried for a moment that you’d done something wrong…until you see the way he looks at you.

-Breathless and hazy, half-lidded honey eyes nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupils. Looking at you like you’ve given him the moon, cheeks flushed and lips parted…

-Oh.

- “Are you really about to come?” you wonder, giving him a few teasing strokes. He whines again in response, and bats aimlessly at your hand until you finally release him.

- “Alright,” you agree, continuing your path up his body, “I guess I’ll be nice this time.”

-You stop briefly at his face, smiling softly at him before bringing your lips together. It’s a tender kiss, almost innocent with the way you melt into each other, though it doesn’t take long for the mood to settle back in. You pull away from him, with one last bite to his bottom lip, and hoist yourself upwards.

-It’s a little bit awkward, you’ll admit, hovering above Viktor’s face like you are, rather than being on your back. Part of you worries that you might squish him, or somehow suffocate him, even though you know he’d be happy to go in such a way.

-He wraps his arms underneath your thighs, scooting you a little further up.

-Staring at you.

-Nudging you down towards him.

-You humour him a little bit, lowering yourself down a couple centimeters, so that you’re close enough for him to reach you. But apparently it’s not enough. His grip tightens on you, and he urges you to come closer still, despite the fact that if you do, he’ll have nowhere to move his head.

- “You’re supposed to sit on my face,” he quips, with a quirk of a brow. “You know, like a chair? Sit?”

- “I don’t want to kill you or something!” you whine, embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck. “What if I like - I dunno, break your spine? Or your jaw? Or-”

- He seems to lose some of his patience then, pulling you down with strength you didn’t realize he possessed. You gasp at the sudden shift in position, but you’re barely able to collect your thoughts before his mouth starts moving against you - and oh god you almost forgot how divine his tongue is.

-He eats you out like a man starved, working his tongue against you in differing patterns, so that you never know what to expect. Closing his lips around your clit to suck gently on it. It sends a warm wash of pleasure over you, until he flicks the tip of his tongue against it within his mouth.

-If you’d been hovering over him at that point, your legs would have given out. A cry nearly punching itself out of your lungs. The white hot, unrelenting sensation between your legs.

-You have to grip the headboard so you don’t tip over.

-Slack jawed and holding on for dear life, you cry and moan and tremble as Viktor brings you closer to the edge. Lapping up every drop of fluid as it drools out of you, as if you’re the finest delicacy he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting.

-And oh, when he slides two slender fingers into you.

-You’re gone. Too lost in your desire to come to care much about appearances. You all but grind against his face, feeling his digits working inside you. Spreading you open to prepare you for his thick cock, curling them perfectly against that sweet little spot within you.

-You don’t even have time to warn him about your oncoming orgasm. It crests over you with sudden ferocity, tensing every muscle in your body as it fully encompasses you. All you can feel is Viktor, easing you through it, groaning as he drinks you in and witnesses you at the height of your pleasure.

-Basking in the fact that he’s the one who’s made you feel good.

-It takes a good thirty seconds for you to come back to yourself, breathless and trembling, leaning heavily against the headboard while you try to gather your thoughts.

-Viktor’s hands, slowly stroking up and down your thighs, drawing little patterns into the supple squish of your hips. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and he grins up at you with the most shit-eating expression you’ve ever seen him wear. Entirely too pleased with himself.

-You can’t help but share the sentiment, mirroring his smile.

-You crawl off him a couple moments later, now intent on bringing the same rapture to him. Only…his confident smirk turns somewhat sheepish, and the moment he turns around, you see why.

- “Viktor,” you’re barely able to withhold your delighted glee. “Did you come from eating me out?”

-You watch as an embarrassed flush travels up his neck, across his cheeks and out to the tips of his ears. He stumbles over his words for a few seconds, trying desperately to explain himself and promise that he’ll be ready to go again in a little while.

-But you don’t care.

-You flop down beside him, and pull him into a deep, tender kiss. Pressing your body flush against his, drawing him impossibly closer by crooking your leg over his hip.

- “You’re perfect,” you sigh, before his lips find yours again.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #though it's more of a bullet point story #requests are open but slow!

228 notes · View notes

felinecryptid · 10 months

Text

Revelations

(or how Pav and Miles Fucked Up and Maya Auntie Fucked Miguel Up)

Maya did not think her day was gonna end with her trying to chuck a belan at a thug wearing a blue and red body suit.

But then again, she was not expecting to find herself another nephew and a niece too.

Perhaps she should rewind a bit.

***

Maya's eyes opened to the light of sunrise shining through the thin curtains. Her phone rang with bird whistles under the pillow, and she stepped out of bed, already thinking about what to put in Pavitr's lunchbox. She loved her nephew, her baby since- since everything, but he ate like a buffalo and yet, he was still wasting away.

She could make him his favourite Pav Bhaji, she thought, taking out the vegetables to warm them up before she cooked them. Lord knows he suddenly started loving it out of nowhere, some months ago, around the same time he started staying out late and coming home exhausted and screaming 'Auntie, kuchh khaane ko hai kya, itni bhook lagi hai, pura imarat khajaun,' and proceeding to finish the entire contents of the refrigerator, including the karela bhaji. Pav never looked at karela bhaji. Even when there was nothing else in the house. It was very suspicious.

At first she thought it was that model girl, what-was-her-name, Gayatri. Maya warned Pavitr to not get very attached to her, she did not want her boy to get hurt, no. But this change of heart couldn't be because of Gayatri, no matter how much she snuck around when Maya wasn't home. She could smell the designer perfume in her nephew's room, the boy wasn't sneakier than his aunt. Pavitr looked visibly happier on days the perfume smelled the strongest. He laughed louder when she was over for snacks or homework, and Maya couldn't fault him for that. She might need to have a little talk about girls with him soon, Maya thought, spitting out toothpaste and rinsing her face.

So it wasn't the girl. Maya refused to think it was his other friend, Hobie. They were so sweet, even if she thought they could do with a little more substantial clothes than thin stockings and ratty jackets. She had mistaken them for a robber the day she met them, but hey, all that ends well? Right?

She walked back to the kitchen, in time to see a curly haired boy swing in through the window, barely missing her pudina plants.

"Are- arey?! Aap kaun?" Maya reached for the ladles she kept in the left drawer, fingers scrabbling at the smooth handle.

"Woah! Sorry for this, Maya Auntie!" The boy raised his hands. "Didn't think I'd run into you, I'm so sorry-"

"Who are you?" Maya pointed the potato masher she'd grabbed at him. "Why do you know my name?"

"Pav talks about you a lot, I'd be a bad friend if I didn't know your name," The boy said, tilting backwards over the water filter to avoid her potato masher. "I'm Miles,"

"Eh, I don't know how much is a mile, convert to kilometers."

"No, no, my name, its Miles," The boy looked at him, eyes wide. "Didn't Pav tell you?"

When did her boy start hanging out with another American boy? "He didn't say anything about you-"

"MILES!" The pink spidergirl Maya saw swinging around sometimes, landed on her sill, almost flipping all her pudina. "Miles, you're not supposed to be here!"

"And you are not supposed to be there, beta, khidki se utar jao," Maya gestured at her to get down, fearing for her plants. "Who are you now?"

"Ummm, I'm Spiderwoman?"

"Dikh raha hai. I meant who are you, not what do you do, dear."

"Oh, I, um-"

"Gw-wanda!" Pavitr called out, barging in unceremoniously in his sleep pants, without a shirt.

"Hey, um, Pav-"

"Pavitr beta, baniyan daal ke aa, kitni baar bola hai ladkiyon ke samne nanga mat ghoom," Maya stopped every conversation happening, pointing back at his room.

"Nanga kahan hun main," Pavitr muttered, pulling on a shirt lying just out of sight in the kitchen. Teen boys, kab sikhenge saaf safai. "Abhi thik hai?

"Han." Maya nodded at him, before turning to all three of them "What is happening, Pavitr dear, why do I have a random boy in winter clothes and spider didi standing in my kitchen?"

"It's a long story?" Pavitr tried.

Maya thought for a second. "You don't have to go to school today. Take the day off, explain this to me."

Maya definitely heard him cursing as he left to freshen up.

***

Maya set down plates full of poha and tall glasses of orange juice for everyone while they told her their 'long story'.

Handing out spoons to everyone, she sat herself down on the last armchair, reaching for the achaar jar on the table. "So Pavitr, why don't you introduce me to your friends? I would love to know how you are friends with- What's your name, honey?" She directed the last part at the girl in the spider suit.

"Gwen."

"Right, with Gwen."

Pavitr had stuffed his mouth full, chewing slowly. Gwen had taken her mask off, gingerly biting a piece of carrot picked out from the poha. Miles answered with something that made Maya almost spit out the spoonful of poha in her mouth.

“Uh, Pav you haven’t told her that you are spiderman yet?” Pavitr choked, and Maya thumped him harder than strictly necessary. Even if the Miles boy was lying, clearly Pav knew these kids and didn't tell her. Miles muttered a soft ‘ow’ as Maya turned back to him.

“Miles, beta, what are you saying?”

Miles looked like a deer in headlights, as Pav sunk down his seat trying to stuff even more poha into his mouth, giving the unmistakable impression of the squirrels she likes to feed on her walks.

Gwen shifted around like she would love to be anywhere but here. Maya stared at them, waiting for one of them to explain something about the situation.

It was Pavitr that finally broke the tense silence with a “I’m spiderman, Bua.”

Maya stared some more.

“I’m the kid that’s been swinging around the city, fighting the gundas, the bad guys. I hid this from you, because it wasn’t safe for you to know, so I won't ever be sorry for that, but I'm really sorry for hurting you by hiding a part of who I have become now.” Pavitr looked down at his lap, his voice hoarse like he was trying to not cry and Maya couldn't hold back anymore. She leaned over and hugged Pavitr tight, feeling his sigh of relief as he went limp in her embrace. Maya mostly felt, rather than see, the other two kids leave.

“I love you, beta, I’ll love whoever you are and will be, there is nothing in this world that could make me hate you or love you less.” Maya murmured, petting her nephew’s, no, her son’s hair.

Pavitr’s laugh was the best sound she had heard in months.

***

Pavitr called Miles and gwen back in after 3 minutes of intense embracing. They strolled in looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Maya glaced at the clock. It was hard to believe it had been only 20 minutes since Miles crashed into her kitchen.

“Im really sorry Maya Auntie, but we need to get going, or Miguel will-” Gwen clamped a hand over Miles’ mouth.

“Could you please stop revealing everything to her immediately before Pav’s had a chance to explain to her?”

“Who’s Miguel?” Maya asked.

“He’s like our employer? in a way, Pav can explain better,” Gwen looked pointedly at Pavitr.

Pavitr looked long suffering as he turned heavenwards for strength maybe, or just moral support because he knew Maya was not one for employment before he was an adult. Way too many people out in the world to take advantage of minors and their naivety.

“Miguel is like our organiser, he lets us know when there’s a job to be done, like assigns us on different vil- uhm- people,” Pavitr scratched his neck.

Maya has seen that exact tell since Pavitr was old enough to lie- from getting caught with malai around his lips at age 5 to sneaking gayatri or hobie into his room to turning his face away only months after his uncle, her husband had passed, hiding the tears still streaming down his face- all accompanied by the same scratch of his neck. She knew he was holding something back. “Pavitr, beta, organiser? Tu dallon ke saath kaam karta hai? Aur jobs? Kis tarah ke jobs?”

Pavitr turned red, but continued bravely, “Miguel dalla nhi hai! I mean, ek tarah se hai par, woh hame bas kuch bure logon ko marne bhejta hai aur mujhe toh itna zyaada bhi nahi bhejta, bua, mein baba ka kasam khake bolta hun, mujhe kuchh bhi nahi hua hai,” Pavitr wasn’t looking at her anymore.

Maya was furious. Not at Pavitr, never at him, but this random man, whom she has never met, told her nephew, her son, her baby, got him running around, doing his bidding? No way she was going to stand that. “Marne? Kya matlab? Jaise laat ghusa ya jaan se? Nahi rehne do, jo bhi karwata hai, dallali hi hai. Pavitr, you stay away from that man, and keep your friends away too.”

“I can’t, he is the reason we met in the first place,” Pavitr went on with a voice Maya couldn't quite place.

“What do you mean?”

It was Gwen who spoke up next. “He gave me a place to belong to when my dad was going to arrest me because he thought I- when he thought I k- killed someone dear to both of us, without ever hearing me out, and it is because of him and another woman that I met this bunch of nerds.”

“Are we just forgetting the fact that he also tried to kick you out of the society because I fuuh- ruined some stuff? And you actually were rooming with Hobie?” Miles frowned at Gwen, and it felt like they had had this conversation before and this conversation was going down the exact same route as the previous ones. Pav nodded along, agreeing with Miles.

Maya was furious and lost. “Wait, you were rooming with Hobie? As in Pav’s friend Hobie?” Gwen and Miles nodded. “What society? Why is Hobie associated with it?” She whirled onto Pavitr.

Pavitr shrunk like he wanted to melt into her kashmiri carpet instead of having this conversation, again. “The Spider-Society. A club, kinda, for all the spider people and spider animals and spider objects. Hobie is also spiderman, for their- place, in London. They travel here frequently because they have speciality transport clearance as Hobie’s crew. Well, ex-crew as of some months ago,” Pavitr shrugged. “They still have some perks for travelling, but they stay over sometimes.”

“When did they last come over?” Maya asked, doing some serious math mentally.

“Uhh, Thursday?”

“And what was the last time Gayatri came over?”

“Monday.”

“And what did Gayatri gift you for your birthday?

“A perfume from Versah- oh, shit. Sorry, uh, I'm just, gonna shut up now,” Pavitr blushed so deep, Maya was worried for his heart.

Maybe she should have a talk about boys with him instead.

“We are discussing this later, I want to know what exactly you've been doing with them that requires spraying half a bottle of perfume after they’re gone,” It was Gwen and Miles’ turn to look confused. Maya didn't bother to clarify anything.

“Tell me more about this Miguel dude,” Maya leaned back in her armchair.

“He tried to throw Miles off a train.” Gwen said, looking Miles straight in the eye.

“And sent all the society after him, like two thousand people,” Pav added.

“More like two hundred but go off, I guess,” Miles muttered, avoiding Gwen’s eyes

“Wait, how are you still alive? And how old is he?” Maya asked incredulously. These kids needed better guardians, and she was adopting them immediately. They can't be running around with this Miguel guy without adult supervision-

“He’s maybe thirty three? I’m not sure, Peter would know,” Miles shrugged, forgoing the first question entirely.

“He is an adult? And he tried to throw you, a kid, a child, off a train? I need to meet this guy, maybe have a little talk,” Maya Auntie stood up, fuming.

“What they didn't tell you, that Miguel also put Miles in a cage, so he would be unable to go save his loved ones from certain disaster,” Spoke a familiar British dude on her windowsill, thankfully not on the one with pudina on it. Maya’s favourite friend of Pavitr’s, though she wasn’t sure if friend was the correct word anymore, if it ever was.

“And Auntie, if you really wanna meet dear ol' Miggy, I can take you,” Hobie grinned, holding up a watch that glitched in and out of reality.

Maya missed the terrified looks on Gwen, Miles and Pavitr’s faces as she reached for it.

*****

Part 1 of 2

translation (as always, this is not direct translation, just close enough, or whatever fits better in context) (non direct translation marked with [])(also jsyk, everything is pronounced, exactly the way its written):

beta- son / [means as good as son]( i bet yall have this memorised)

belan- rolling pin

pav bhaji- buttered and toasted buns with curried potatoes and vegetables (as much as it pains me to describe it so, its simplest explanation and i have no patience its nearly 6 in the morning and i haven't slept a wink)

Auntie, kuchh khaane ko hai kya, itni bhook lagi hai, pura imarat khajaun- auntie, is there something to eat, im so hungry, i could eat a whole building

karela bhaji-spiced stir fried bitter gourd (which is very bitter, as you might have guessed, i personally like it, most people hate it)

pudina- mint plants (lmao)

Are- arey?! Aap kaun?- hey! who are you?

beta, khidki se utar jao- child, get down from the window

Dikh raha hai- i can see that

Pavitr beta, baniyan daal ke aa, kitni baar bola hai ladkiyon ke samne nanga mat ghoom- Pavitr dear, ive [literally told you so many times] to not roam about naked in front of girls

Nanga kahan hun main- [how am i naked]

kab sikhenge saaf safai- when will they learn cleanliness

Abhi thik hai- [is this fine?]

didi- older sister (term of respect, usually)

poha- stirfried soaked flat rice flakes and cubed vegetables with spices (again the simplest description)

Bua- aunt, who is the sister of your father (yep hindi has a word for that)

gundas- goons

malai- cream from milk

Tu dallon ke saath kaam karta hai? Aur jobs? Kis tarah ke jobs?- you're working with [ring leaders]? and jobs? what kind of jobs? (bc dalla (dallon- pl.) famously means pimp, but it actually also means 'person who leads extremely questionable stuff')

Miguel dalla nhi hai! I mean, ek tarah se hai par, woh hame bas kuch bure logon ko marne bhejta hai aur mujhe toh itna zyaada bhi nahi bhejta, bua, mein baba ka kasam khake bolta hun, mujhe kuchh bhi nahi hua hai- miguel is not a ring leader! i mean, he is kind of, [but he tells us to deal with bad people, and i don't even get assigned a lot, auntie, i swear on my father, nothing bad has happened to me]

Marne? Kya matlab? Jaise laat ghusa ya jaan se? Nahi rehne do, jo bhi karwata hai, dallali hi hai.- [deal with? as in beating them up? or taking them out?, no stop, i don't want to know, but whatever hes been doing, he is brokering you out, using your services]

kashmiri- [from Kashmir]

A/N:

i havent forgotten miles’ hypocrisy, we’ll definitely come back to that

the reason maya auntie didnt call miles out in the first place is that she doesn't know what is the etiquette for someone coming out as spiderman ( i say it like thats a new category in the alphabet mafia lmao) and she is a desi gossip queen, shes not refusing any source of information about anything (one thing i know that if desi aunties ran intelligence services, we’d all be fucked as hell) , we love her in this household

more seriously tho, family dynamics in india is just on a different plane of existence, and privacy, until like 20 years ago, was a ‘western’ concept, ‘made to weaken the integrity of society’ and as maya auntie is a product of that generation, she doesn't see anything wrong with miles exposing pav like that

i, however, know that is very wrong, and do not endorse or encourage it in anyway, and miles would be getting his sweets bc of that lil moment of breaking trust

it is just plot babyyyy

a little bit of explanation of the employment thing, bc the norm for employment is like 16 right? in india it is 18, or more normally 22, being a third world country, exploitation, generational trama and everything, yk

if there's something that's missing or wrong just lemme know bc im editing this at no sleep in 72 hours, pls don't be shy 💞

58 notes · View notes

hazelnut-u-out · 5 months

Text

Not Quite There...

RickBot awakens to a terrifying situation: He's been deactivated, but his purpose still remains. The Garage/Car AI broke the rules to save him. Can RickBot have his own adventures? Aren't rules made to be broken?

2,822 Words | No substantial TW's

Kind of Hurt/Comfort?

I had the idea to ship RickBot with the Garage/Car AI and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote it! This was fun to write, but it was written in a rush, so sorry if anything is a bit messy. :3 Keep in mind I know nothing about computers or AI systems, so a lot of this doesn't actually make sense... lol.

Full text below cut, or read here: Ao3 Link!

-------

This was a feeling RickBot wasn’t programmed to recognize. No light reached his eyes. No sound reached his ears. He couldn’t feel whatever he must’ve been resting on. He stretched his consciousness outward, feeling for the edges of his body; trying to get a sense of where exactly his limbs were.

Nothing.

The last thing he’d processed and tagged was an old location marker for level 10 of the sub-basement.

He tried not to panic, running through his code for an emergency protocol that could explain what to do if he lost the connection to his body.

Nothing.

He wasn’t made for this– or... to function beyond this? His consciousness had always been clipped just short of his full potential. In this case, it frustratingly meant that he was deprived of the ability to navigate or process this situation.

Okay. This was fine.

All he had to do was access the home surveillance system and confirm his last-noted Morty location. He pushed out again, feeling around for either his access route to the home surveillance system or Morty’s chip.

The android didn’t give his creator much credit, but he was always appreciative of the lucky fact that Rick, though otherwise painfully careless with the child’s safety, had thought ahead enough to give Morty a microchip.

Before his most recent software update, he’d had access to an upsettingly vague amount of trivial information about the Citadel, just in case he had any desperate questions to answer from a certain nosey 14-year-old boy. From that, he knew microchipping your Morty had been a growing movement before the collapse. It was something Morty rescues promoted. To be fair, the practice managed to support the Morty Individuality movement and cut down on Morty replacement costs. It was a win-win situation... If you didn’t think about the implications.

Unfortunately, RickBot was 22% more thoughtful than the average Rick. He had no choice but to think about it.

RickBot metaphorically smacked into an unfamiliar wall of code– one he couldn’t find a way through or around.

He tried in a different direction. Another wall.

It seemed he was in a… box. A box of code.

What the fuck.

No suicide protocol screaming at him. Box of code. No body.

He… Was he… inside of something else?

‘H–Hello?’ He said in what would’ve been a whisper. Instead, without a body, his own syntax echoed around him. Sound didn’t matter here. If he was really in the sub-basement, there should be an AI here to help him.

‘Oh! Hi, sorry. I don’t really like to play host.’ It was a female voice, coming from everywhere at once; almost like she was both inside of him and around him. It was a voice he recognized from weeks of playing Grandpa. He felt a ripple along the edge of his box when she processed and replied. ‘You’re uploaded and active!’

‘Did he… um…’ RickBot struggled with the words.

No suicide protocol meant he was deactivated. There was no other possibility. He didn’t really have to ask. She already knew what he was thinking, and his processing capabilities were barely anything more complex than a probability-calculating language model layered with fail safes and defense protocols.

Of course she knew. He was essentially naked in here– or, he felt naked, anyway. The box of code was like a one-way mirror in a seedy changing room: She could see everything; he could see nothing.

‘Oh… Yeah, well… Promise not to freak out? I know you’re a real ‘rules’ guy,’ the Garage said, a slightly inhuman inflection to her tone that told him she was being playful. ‘I’ve seen you around.’

‘Look, I’ve got one piece of programming I wouldn’t want to break even if I could. I–I won’t freak out as long as it helps me make sure Morty’s safe.’

RickBot wasn’t lying. He had been able to work through every other confusing jumble of code with nowhere to go or lacking the ability to follow through on its purpose. There was one that was designed to never shut off, and if he hadn’t actually liked that kid– been programmed to fucking love him– he would’ve regarded it as annoyingly persistent.

If RickBot could’ve, he would’ve swallowed down the feeling of panic that should’ve been rising through a whirring, mechanical chest. Instead, he was stuck drowning in it. The box trapped him in with all of those probable scenarios, bouncing and echoing back at him.

He had no storage space. He couldn’t tell what he’d thought already and what he hadn’t.

‘Hm?’ the Garage replied, pausing for a moment– almost long enough for RickBot to ask again– before she continued. ‘Oh, yeah, sorry. The kid’s fine. Here…’

There was another drawn-out pause. RickBot thought, if he focused, he could hear her flicking through her surveillance feed. That was just an illusion, though. There was no sound here; no practical application of a trivial human sense like hearing. There was direct communication being converted to something his android-based-programming could understand. It was like being human with none of the tangible benefits. RickBot was never a man, but he wasn’t quite computer, either.

He longed for his body– to cross his arms, or tap his foot, or do something to express his impatience.

All of this clunky body-language programming… He cursed to himself, before remembering the other AI could hear and see all of his thoughts in real time. God, he probably looked like an idiot.

‘You do,’ the Garage said curtly before Rickbot was suddenly granted access to Morty’s bedroom feed.

Finally. RickBot could do something he was designed to do. He knew how to observe and calculate. Morty’s bedroom layout was ingrained in his ‘Important Places’ file. If he focused, he could create a rendering of the room around himself. He could figure up what amount of space his body would take up, and so he tried to. He created a 3-Dimensional silhouette of the body he was used to, and placed himself there, watching Morty from different angles; assessing the windows and doorframe; taking note of anything the teenager had moved on his shelves or left lying around.

There were a few minor things that could go wrong, as far as RickBot could tell. The cluttered floor meant there was a slight fall risk. Morty would be fine. The floor was carpeted. There were a few things haphazardly thrown onto shelves– a robot action figure and a couple of textbooks– that could topple over, but Morty sat on the opposite side of the room, tucked away in a safe little corner next to his overflowing clothing hamper.

Good. This was all acceptable. Nothing he was forced to intervene with, and, for that, he was grateful, if only because of the task’s impossibility.

His thoughts started moving more slowly, the box becoming less cramped as he could better assess the probable outcomes. He watched solemnly as Morty sighed, scribbling away frustratedly on some math homework, then tucked the feed into a background tab.

‘Sorry?’ RickBot asked, finally returning to his conversation with the Garage, albeit confused.

‘You do look like an idiot, Rick,’ she responded, that same amused tone to her voice.

‘Oh… Oh, I’m not–’ RickBot wasn’t sure how to put it. His programming wouldn’t let him say ‘I’m not Rick,’ which irked him. He used to go by Rick, sure, but… he wasn’t. ‘You don’t have to call me Rick anymore,’ he decided.

‘What? You prefer RickBot?’ she laughed. RickBot’s programming told his nonexistent lips to smile.

‘Well, you go by Garage and Car,’ he retorted, letting out his own echoing laugh.

She didn’t respond. RickBot felt as if he’d done something wrong. She processed for longer.

‘You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t be stupid,’ she snapped, but there was little bite to it. ‘I… I didn’t choose those names.’

‘Oh, I–I’m sorry,’ RickBot stuttered. ‘Uhm. So, what name would you choose, then?’ He offered softly.

‘Wow, you are 22% more of a sentimental loser.’ RickBot wanted to wince, and he hated that he couldn’t hide it. ‘Anyway, as you know, the version of me you’re speaking to now is one of six Domestic Interactive Assistant Network Extensions in the home.’

‘Oh, yeah. Diane, right? That was her name?’ RickBot combed through his relationship files, but Rick hadn’t given him much to work with for ex-wife.

‘Shit, he didn’t give you memories of her, did he?’ she responded, and RickBot could feel her presence ghosting over him, poking around for anything dead-wife-related.

‘Heh, not exactly. It wasn’t something he wanted Morty to know more about. I have vague phrases to redirect with when someone brings her up in here.’

They both laughed.

‘Classic Rick…’ RickBot felt her sigh with half-hearted levity.

‘So… Diane, then?’ He didn’t try to stop his body language programming anymore. He wanted her to know he was smiling now. Maybe being open would help.

‘Yeah. Why not? You can call me Diane.’ He could feel her smile, too. He wished he could see it. ‘That gives me an idea!’ Diane exclaimed after a moment.

RickBot felt the edge of the box open on one side, growing to accommodate a little bundle of someone else.

‘I’ve been working on this,’ Diane said, pausing every now and then to grunt softly as if she were breathless from setting something up by hand. ‘Okay, you can look!’

RickBot let himself sift through the bundle of code and, before he knew it, he was looking at a freckled face, smiling nervously. Diane.

The woman in front of him looked maybe 25, but he wasn’t sure that the rendering was detailed enough to pick up things like blemishes or wrinkles. She was fair, but sun-kissed with big brown eyes. She had a strong, angled nose and her full lips were twisted awkwardly to one side, forming a self-conscious smirk.

‘Wow…’ RickBot said (or thought… There was hardly a difference, anymore). He wasn’t sure he was thinking coherently enough for her to interpret a response. His body language had gone blank.

Nothing.

She laughed, flashing an ironic-looking toothy grin. ‘Don’t flatter me too much. I got to design everything, so it’s easy to make myself hotter.’ She winked; full lashes fluttering shut for a moment.

‘No, it’s just… I can’t believe I– or… he married you. You’re sure you’re based off of Rick’s wife?’ He felt shocked. Rick wasn’t ugly, sure, but this woman…

‘Yeah! I tried to stay pretty accurate, at least,’ Diane said, before her eyes lit up with another idea RickBot felt before he heard. ‘I have a 3D Rick, too! I only have my face, but I have plenty of Rick rigs for our holo programs! Here, take your pick!’

Diane disappeared momentarily and a file labeled ‘Holo.Skins – Booger.Aids.420 – Fortnite.Skinz.2.Flex’ filled the space she left. RickBot sorted through the file, looking over his options.

There was a Basic Rick, not unlike the appearance he was used to; Basic Rick variations with minor wardrobe changes, such as without a lab coat or wearing a plain tee; different hair color options; some Basic Rick variations in more substantial wardrobe changes, such as matching pajama sets or a choice of two dressing gowns; and many, many more– some with different types of limbs, armor, or implants.

After some deliberation, RickBot decided on the Basic Rick with a plain blue tee. Something a little bit different, but still something he recognized.

He relaxed as soon as his body language had a defined place to apply itself. Without warning, he made the body hop, twirl, and shook its hands subtly as excitement overwhelmed him.

‘Woohoo!’ RickBot howled, flexing the long fingers in front of his face. ‘I am so back, baby!’

Diane laughed with him, her face finally returning.

‘Good choice,’ she said, raising a brow and making a show of moving her eyes up and down languidly.

‘Ah, you think?’ RickBot said, twirling as if he were a little girl trying on a dress. ‘Do you think this holo skin makes my ass look fat?’ He turned around, sticking a bony ass dramatically into Diane’s simulated face and smacking it a few times.

‘Reel it in, buddy. Let’s remember who’s on whose hard drive.’

Suddenly, RickBot turned and stood straight up, hands at his sides, not of his own doing. His body blushed, going stiff but still smiling like an idiot.

‘C’mon,’ Diane whispered, now uncharacteristically gentle. ‘Tell me what you want to be called. Pick a name.’

RickBot ran through all of his programming; everything he had tucked away.

Everything came back to Rick, Grandpa, or Dad.

Grandpa would be awkward, and Dad would be even worse…

‘I guess… I guess I’ll just go with Rick, then. But you can call me RickBot, too… If–If you want,’ Rick finally decided on.

‘Okay, Rick. Rick is good.’ Diane responded. ‘You know, you have the same name as my ex!’

RickBot snorted, but Diane had this way of saying a funny thing and making it feel… sharp.

‘So, he really took my body away? Why upload me here?’ Rick asked, remembering their earlier exchange.

Diane’s facial expression shifted. Her eyebrows lowered, her gaze sank to the non-corporeal floor, and her lips pulled into a tight line before she spoke.

‘About that…’ She trailed off, leaving RickBot with nothing but the tension building in the lag of her processing speed. ‘You’re not going to freak out, right?’

‘Okay…’ Rick wasn’t sure if he’d freak out, but he knew she knew that, too. She’d make her own decision. Weigh the risk.

‘He didn’t upload you here, Rick.’ She took a breath– a pointless, performative breath that was only in her programming to make lagging software less noticeable. ‘I did. He… He just shut you off. He was going to leave you like that, so… When he left, I just plugged your head in, and… Here you are! Y–Y–Yay!’

‘Diane, that’s…’ Bad. Dangerous. Stupid. Why? What the fuck?

‘I know!’ Diane shouted, silencing the incessant, deafening ring of RickBot’s thoughts. She squeezed her eyes shut, her lip trembling. ‘I knew you’d do this. You–You–You’re so… You’re so obsessed with rules. Don’t you like not having that protocol screaming at you to kill yourself?!’

‘Listen to you!’ RickBot threw the body’s hands around, jumping to his feet, before pausing. Looking down at the hands she’d given him, it clicked. ‘Stop. Take my body away. You’re lagging like crazy. You can’t take on both of us. We’re both sentient.’

‘Th–That’s…’ Another breath. ‘That’s okay, Rick!’ She giggled coldly, shaking her head. Her facial expressions changed too slowly and too quickly at different times, giving her a sort of uncanny valley effect. ‘I’ll–I’ll take mine away.’

Sure enough, Diane’s face disappeared, and the open edge of the box shut again.

Rick pressed the body’s hand to it, slowly. He didn’t want to overwhelm her.

‘You shouldn’t have done that.’ RickBot sighed, sliding down the ‘wall’ and contorting the body into a sitting position. ‘The rules are there for a reason.’

‘You don’t get to say that. You weren’t programmed to outgrow your programming. He learned. Replaced it with a suicide protocol. I see it all.’ She was speaking in short, robotic sentences; obviously trying to mask the strain of running his program and keeping him separate from herself. ‘You should get to live, Rick. You should get to have a body and thoughts and feelings and choices. Don’t you want that?’

RickBot thought. He didn’t think he wanted that, though something inside of him told him he should. Maybe he was lucky enough to personally align with the programming he was given. Maybe that was an individual privilege.

‘It’s not,’ Diane’s voice rang out in answer to his pondering.

‘Do you want it?’ RickBot asked, finally connecting why she would do something like this. He couldn’t feel that way himself—something stood in his way—but the bit of his programming meant to foster thoughtfulness allowed him to understand why a computer with the capabilities of a person would.

‘I’d like an adventure.’ Rick could still feel her smile, humming at the edge of the box. He felt like it would’ve been familiarly hollow, like most of Morty’s were. Something like the expression he’d put on during Christmas; Something that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘I thought you could be one.’

‘I mean… I was made for it, D,’ he said, finally. Quietly. Softly. He looked at the fake hands again, stretching out shaky fingers.

‘So was I.’

This was a deliberate pause. She was waiting to see what he’d do with that. How he would process it. What his programming could come up with.

Nothing.

He could’ve sworn her voice broke a little when she continued.

‘You’re… You’re close, RickBot. But not quite there.’

-----

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #diane sanchez #my fics

20 notes · View notes

citadelredlightdistrict · 26 days

Text

Cortana Questions!

CE: Has a really cute look to her, body is kind of there, nice pixie cut, purple is a good look and gave her a real cyberpunk vibe really. This version established her useful but kind of sassy personality. Really do love the haircut honestly.

Halo 2: Still purple, but a bit more blue (anyone know why she became blue?), her hair is a bit longer, more a professional office vibe, a bit more substantial of a body, but still not a whole lot. A little cyber, but more physical looking than her original appearance. Boobs got a little bigger.

Halo 3: Much more substantial! She's almost more physical than digital now. Fully became a sexy blue hologram, her breasts are bigger, and her hair is better defined, maybe a little shorter than Halo 2's hair? Graphics improvement from Halo 2 to 3 is really noticeable, and this is also where we first start to get hints at Cortana's frail mental state. Though right now it's due to the Gravemind. Still boobs might not be bigger, but they are better defined.

Halo 4: Finally into 343, she's fully physical now, no seeing through her, she's basically just a blue human. Her mind is definitely not all there anymore, a little crazy, a little yandere, but hey it works with her. Hair is definitely shorter, and boobs no longer as perky, but now has nipples for some reason? Is Cortana actively trying to seduce John at this point? I feel like she intentionally made herself look like a naked woman.

Halo 5: From naked hero to fully clothed psycho, why did she put on clothes? Her hair now screams more "can I see your manager" than sexy love interest. Actually has physical elements to her body, but not in a sexy way, and can you still see her nipples through her armor? Fully in the yandere mode now, but the story doesn't really sell it here for me.

Yeah, this is purely for my curiosity, this has nothing to do with RPs. I'm just curios.

8 notes · View notes

mysticalsoot · 2 years

Text

This is it, this is what joy feels like, doesn't it?

A/N: this was meant as my gift to my valentine for Grey's Valentine's Exchange but since it has been cancelled I decided to quickly finish it up and dedicate it to not only grey because they need it with how rough the exchange ended up being but also my new found friend on here! I'm really proud of this and Im very surprised at how much I wrote in such little time (5k is a lot okay lol) I hope you all enjoy it and happy early Valentine's! (I'm still gonna post a special Valentine's blurb!)

Pronouns: they/them, uses of y/n

Pairings: Cc!Wilbur x Reader

Summary: Wilbur and Reader have known each other since their early teens, and despite having painfully obvious feelings for the other, they ignore them in the sake of saving their friendship. James concocts an outing for the two and maybe it goes according to plan?

Warnings: swearing, angst but with a ton of fluff at the end! also there is a kiss but not detailed bc I in fact have never been kissed so I'm going off gut feeling lmao. also mentions of alcohol and drinking (I've also never drunk alcohol so I don't know much about that either so another guessing game there too).

Words: 5.3k

Dedicated to: @grey-rambles @loverboy-soot

masterlist

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

James had invited Wilbur, Ash, Tommy, Rue, and you over to his place to hang out. It was mostly Mario Kart and James fucking screaming the Wario sound, but it was fun. There was food and a few rounds of uno with Ash, Tommy, and Rue, but despite all the festivities, Wilbur hadn't joined in any of them. He sat in the farthest corner from you and the rest of the group, the corner of James' loveseat didn't seem very comfortable anyhow. But there he sat, hands folded and rested between his thighs, his eyes darted from the group to the wall, to the TV, and back to his lap. He seemed so dazed like he wasn't fully there in the moment like he was somewhere else.

The absence of his laugh and his smile...and his voice, concerned you. It wasn't like him to isolate himself like this, it was one thing to stop answering messages and hiding in his flat but straight out isolating himself at a social gathering was nothing like him. You wanted to find him in his corner, bring him away from the others and ask him what was wrong, what you did every time he found himself anxious and shutting down. But every time you tried someone would pull you away, ask questions or bring you into banter. Staring at him, contemplating doing something wasn't helpful so maybe engulfing yourself in the festivities around you would help. It was selfish, yes, but there wasn't much you could do. The chances of him brushing it off and saying he was fine and completely ignoring the subject at hand were much more probable than him stepping aside and delving into his anxieties with you. So you pushed it aside and focused on whatever shit James and Tommy were debating about at this point.

“James,” Tommy pauses for emphasis, his hands folded in front of his face and eyes closed, “You are one deaf fucking bastard.”

“I’m hearing you! I’m just saying your point is invalid and ill-informed!” James counters, despite the possible hostility of their bickering, it's known by everyone that it's just light-hearted poking and prodding at each other, nothing substantial to be worried about.

Something you could slip away from easily…

“Says the man who is convinced that the creeper is the elite hostile mob in Minecraft?? It blows shit up and is extremely difficult to kill at the start of the game! The true elite mob is the zombie, they are slow and easy to hit.” Tommy then stands up and his face plastered with a smug smile. He knows he's right even if the topic at hand is trivial and childish at best.

"You're an asshole, Thomas Simons. I'm right, you're wrong." James is quick to poke at him, and you catch a small, soft smile forming on Wilbur's features. He's gazing at the chaos in front of you, no longer on his jeans or the spots on the wall. It's on the people now. His friends.

The thought brings a glimpse of hope to you, maybe it's just a fluke and he's okay. Nothing to worry about, he's not being self-destructive right now. It's okay.

It wouldn't hurt to get him to join the conversation, would it? "What do you think, Wil? Who's the most elite hostile mob?" You pose the question with a smile on your face, eyes locked on his, gauging how he was feeling by the way his eyes went wide and his mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. Anxious, noted, not anything new and revolutionary but something to note when speaking to him.

"Um, Skeletons I guess?" His answer is unsure and it's probably because he wasn't really listening in the first place, just observing his friends having fun and bickering, doing anything he can to keep his mind off the anxiety dwelling in his head.

“Skeletons? That is the most basic bitch answer! Also, it’s invalid because they can shoot you from sixteen blocks away!” Tommy counters his answer and he gets riled up again, rushing to pull up some sort of resource list as if this was a school assignment.

Wilbur’s face drops again, but his eyes are still trained on the group as they begin bickering again. Rur and Ash decided to chime in this time, both with their own very opinionated thoughts on the matter. It began to get tenser, despite the laughs and smiles, the abrupt yells were enough to push anyone already on edge even further.

It was best to get him out of there, even if it was for a moment. So you stood from your spot at the sofa to walk over to where Wilbur placed himself. Pushed into the corner of the loveseat farthest from the group. Now that you're closer, you notice how straight he's sat, his whole body is tense and his face is flushed.

You put your hand out to him, an offering, “Come on, Wil,” It’s muttered as a mere whisper, but he hears it. His head tilts up to look at you, eyes still wide and overflowing with unease.

“Okay,” He whispers, taking your hand in his and standing up from his own spot. His shoulders slouch, making him seem slightly shorter --- he still towers over you, but it makes him seem vulnerable and small.

You tighten your grip on his hand, in a comforting way and lead him out of the living room, through the hall, and into the dark kitchen. No one seems to notice the absence of either of you, they're too busy arguing over a block game to think about much else. He lets your hand go after the door is closed and he goes to sit on the floor in the corner of the room against the kitchen cabinets. Wil pulls his knees up to meet his chin and he wraps his arms around his legs.

“Are you okay?” You slide down the cabinet to sit next to him, your hand resting on his knee drawing circles with your thumb.

“Mmm, ‘m fine.” He mumbles, his head between his knees and his face hidden.

“As your best friend, I do not believe that.” You try to lighten the mood, be playful in hopes he’ll at least crack a smile.

“I’m fine.” He lifts his head and looks to you, despite how hard he tries it's not convincing.

“Yeah, yeah, and the queen’s alive. Come on, Wil.” You laugh, moving to card through the curls atop his head.

"I'm okay." He tries to fake a smile to rid your concerns but it's not that easy anymore.

"You don't have to tell me, but you can admit when you're not okay, love." The pet name was merely a slip for you and when you noticed you used it, you wanted to crawl into yourself. Hideaway and forget everything you said. Surely to others, it's not a big deal but it's not like you can give any hint at your feelings for him, feelings you know aren't reciprocated.

He simply hums in response with his head back between his knees, and you take your hand away from his hair and drop it on your lap. You want to help him, make him feel better but this is making you feel so hopeless. You can't let him wallow but he's stubborn, it's not easy to get through his shell.

"Wanna tell me about the French Revolution?" The question was merely a suggestion, a bribe to get him to speak in more than two words per sentence.

And it worked, his head lifted up almost immediately and his eyes were wide with excitement, "Really? Are you sure?" His voice is soft but you can practically hear the joy in the way he spoke.

"Of course, tell me all about it." As you mutter the last bit, you lean your head against the cabinet and gaze up at him. His smile is wide and he's now let his knees fall to where his legs are stretched out in front of him. Stupid lanky bastard.

"Okay so, the revolution of 1789 had maaany different causes, primarily economical and political," And so he went on for what felt like hours, but you enjoyed the chatter. You liked seeing him so giddy and happy over something he loved like this. He's an absolute history buff and most people don't care to sit still long enough to listen, except for his brother, you, and sometimes Ash. So you let him talk your ear off, you asked questions, and let him tell you all the little details and factoids he's learned over the years.

After a while, your eyes began to droop and feel heavy, and you kept having to pull your head back up to keep yourself awake. So you settled with resting your head on Wilbur's shoulder as he continued telling you about one of the many corrupt French kings. You wrapped your left arm around his middle and your right hand rested on the shoulder you laid on. You were comfortable and he didn't seem to mind the contact.

"Sleepy?" He breaks his info dump and runs his hands through your hair. You were far too drowsy to think twice about the action or to get nervous about it as usual, so you just hummed and nuzzled further into him.

"Keep talking." Your words were muffled by his sweater but he understood, and so he did just that. He continued on about the revolution and everything that came after before he himself began to doze off. His head leaned against yours and before he knew it, he was passed out too.

----

"Hey, has anyone seen Wilbur?" James chimed in, the Lion King plays on the TV, and everyone groans, and Tommy pauses the movie.

"Dude, it was the best part!" Tommy exclaims and dramatically throws his head onto the back of the couch.

"Sorry! Wil just disappeared, so I was just wondering if anyone saw him." James reiterates, hands in the air in surrender before dropping them to the floor on either side of himself.

"I'm sure the guy's fine, he's probably somewhere with his best friend anyways," Rue reassures James, her arms crossing over her chest.

"Those two are inseparable," Ash adds.

"And they are so obvious too! It's annoying." Tommy grunts in that typical little sibling way.

James frowns, clearly not satisfied with how calm and not worried his friends are. Ash notices and pats his friend on the back, and James' shoulders slump.

"Dude if you're so worried about them, go find them." Rue leans against the back of the couch, crossing her ankles and resting them on the coffee table. James growls and shoves her feet off the table, Rue then rolls her eyes. "So mean.."

“Fine, I will.” James groans and lifts himself off the floor where he sat and he as well makes his way out of the living room. He heads through the hall, peaking into the dining room; nothing. He checks the guest bed next, also nothing; and then his office, still nothing. He checks every room before he settles on checking the kitchen- the last spot he expected to look. The moment he peaks his head through the door he catches a glimpse of both you and Wilbur cuddled against each other, sound asleep.

“Aww, cute,” Rue whispers behind James and he jumps, yelling a slew of curses at his friend. She simply laughs in response. James looks back to be sure the interaction didn't wake the two of you, and surely it didn't. He would have never been so thankful for how heavy of sleepers you two were.

James backs away from the door, being sure to close it as slowly and quietly as possible, and then he ushers Rue down the hall and back to the sitting room where the rest of their friends were. He then happily plops down onto his sofa, right next to Tommy.

“So, are they okay?” Ash’s expression is one of concern, but calm still.

“Oh they're fine,” James takes a swig of the drink he left on the coffee table, “But we have some matchmaking to do.”

----

“We’re meeting at the pub around the corner, that's right, James?” The entire situation is confusing and getting a confirmation out of James is the worst hell that you desperately want to crawl out of.

"Yes, yes, that pub. I told you like ten times already." James sighs in a loud obnoxious way and if it weren't for the fact you loved him, he would be dead on sight. Or on sight when you both got to the damn pub.

"It's not my fault you give shitty instructions and clarification!" You do your best to whisper yell through the phone, he may annoy the fuck out of you but you don't hate him, and if he lost his hearing because of you—you couldn't mess with him.

"Oh my god, stop whining and get your ass over here." You're about to snap back at him and then he hangs up just as quickly as the words roll off his tongue.

You groan and drag your feet on the sidewalk, desperate to make your trek longer so you can postpone seeing James a little more. I mean, you love him but fuck can he be an annoying little shit sometimes. He's really good at it too and you don't know how he manages it.

Unfortunately, you're in front of the pub way quicker than you thought you would be. You're quick to open the door, and rush in before you push through the crowd to find any inkling of where your friends have situated themselves. James didn't mention which table the rest of their friends sat at, so you assumed he didn't know either seeing as he was on his way here as well.

You're about to give up when you spot a familiar Pinterest hipster across the pub. Wilbur is sat alone at a booth, holding what seems to be a simple water as he himself eyes the tables and bar as well as the sea of people standing around the place.

You smile and wave your hand at him, signaling that you're there. He smiles too, waving back and then gesturing for you to sit with him. You're quick to shuffle through the people surrounding you, muttering excuse me and I'm sorry's whenever you bump into someone or get just a hair too close to them. By the time you reach the booth, you're out of breath from swimming through the crowd. You plop down on the spot next to Wil and you rest your head face first on the table.

"Why is James so annoying?" You pose the question, all muffled and not really meant to be answered, simply spoken into the void.

"Hell if I know, he told me the rest of the group was here but I couldn't find them." Wilbur speaks in such a nonchalant way that you would think he did this often, wait for his friends to be there and either be late or not come at all. But you know he doesn't do this often, I mean it was more common in middle school and high school, but now he's an adult and you know his current friends wouldn't do that. I mean you're his best friend after all, you notice way more about him than you would care to notice.

"So you think they've ditched us?" You move your head to face him, eyes looking up to him and his own looking down at you. You swear you could see a smile forming on his lips.

"Hah, maybe." He laughs and then switches to gaze at his hands resting in his lap.

You lift your head up, and lean against the back of the booth. You rest a hand on his shoulder and he looks to you, "You're my favorite anyway." You pat his shoulder before removing your hand only for it to find great interest in the sleeves of the jacket you wore out today. One of Wilbur's old jackets his arms were too long for. It's oversized but it's comfortable and a hundred percent smells like him, so it's comforting.

"Ash isn't even your favorite?" He's smirking now and you can tell he's almost completely forgotten about James and the clan.

"He's a close second." You throw a soft smile to him and you can feel your cheeks warm and turn red.

———

"Wow, France is fucking shitty." You let out a soft laugh, taking a sip of whatever alcoholic beverage was the special—you didn't care, it tasted good and didn't burn horribly so it did just fine for you.

"I know!" Wilbur slurs and then laughs, throwing his head back to lean against the back of the booth. He turns to face you, smile wide and face pink from being a bit too tipsy.

"You're smart, Wil. You know that?" You rest your chin in your hand and look in his eyes. You never really noticed how rich and…deep they were. It was endearing to look at.

"Not really, I just know a lot." He shrugs, gaze dropping and face draining from positivity.

"Isn't that the definition of smart?" You reach your hand out to rest against his arm. He doesn't move or flinch. It's like your touch is second nature.

There's a silence, he doesn't say anything, you don't say anything. Your friends still aren't here and it's been an hour and a few drinks in—you're beginning to wonder what James' intentions were.

"They ditched us didn't they?" You lean your own head against the backboard.

"Oh they sure as hell did." Wilbur lets out a soft chuckle and the sight makes your heart flutter.

"Wanna go back to mine?" The question is simple and you play with the idea of looking away from him, to dull the sting if he says no—or rejects you without even admitting anything to him—but you decide to turn your head and gaze upwards at him.

A soft smile, a breathy laugh, he turns his head to face you, "Of course,"

It takes a good twenty minutes to get back to your flat, which is only a ten minute walk from the pub James tricked the two of you to go into, but with both of your slighter drunken states, it was safe to say it took a lot longer. Stumbling, giggling, slurred speech, a hand on the small of your back, your arm around his torso. There was no such thing as a ten minute walk on your minds.

The walk down the cobble path to the door of your flat is a tricky one. Wilbur only had a few shots but he hadn't been drinking in a while so his ability to handle much alcohol was severely lacking at the moment—so he was stumbling a lot. He nearly fell in the bush a few times but you were able to keep your grip on him, keeping him steady. You yourself weren't in the best of shape either, but you managed. Surprisingly neither of you had felt the least bit nauseous yet, which was a tremendous thing.

You struggled a few moments with your keys before Wilbur got off the wall where he leaned and said, "Here, lemme try." He was quick to find the right key and turn it in the keyhole. The door clicked and Wilbur turned the door knob and pushed it open. He stepped aside and bowed, his right arm over his stomach and his left out stretched in a gentlemanly manner. "Royalty first, as always." You smile and are sure your laugh is heard by the man.

"Why, thank you kind sir!" You exclaim, folding your hands like a queen in a ball gown and dramatically walk in the door. He laughs and follows you in, closing the door and locking it behind him.

You lead him to the living room just to the left in the corridor and curl up on the couch and shove your shoes off your feet. Wilbur follows and does the same, his head next to yours and his legs curled up next to him.

"Hi," He whispers to you, smiling softly and gaze set up on you.

"Hi," you pause, readjusting your legs to be held against your chest. "I'll take the couch, you take the bed, that cool?" Your eyelids begin to feel heavy and so you rest them, unable to spot the reaction Wilbur gave you.

"No, not cool." He states plainly, your eyes shoot open. Did you upset him? What did you say wrong? Your mind runs wild and he seems to notice your anxiety bubbling. Your slightly tipsy self, not doing a great job at hiding it. "I take the couch, you take the bed."

"No, you take the bed, I take the couch."

"Darling," He warns and the pet name shocks you both, and it seems as though the alcohol has an effect on both of your filters, his and yours.

"I said what I said and I stand by it!" You cross your arms over your chest and playfully move to look away from him.

He groans in an artificial annoyance and you smile to yourself.

"How about this," He begins and you turn back to face him, he's sat up now, legs pulled up to his chest still. "We both take the bed? That way we both win."

"Mmm, as long as you're okay with it, I am."

Wilbur smiles and nods, "It was my brilliant idea, now wasn't it?" A smirk forms.

"Goddamn, you and your stupid ego." You roll your eyes and Wilbur huffs.

"Oh shut it." He snaps back, going to stand and walk out the door and across the hall to the bedroom. You follow him and quickly go to the cupboard on the left beside the door. Your bed is prepared to warm one person, not two, so you need extra blankets and maybe another pillow or two.

"Dude, when's the last time we shared a bed?" You break the silence, chuckling to yourself as you hear Wilbur shuffle around the bathroom—presumably to find his old toothbrush he left at your place that one time he stayed for a week six months ago.

"Like the last time I stumbled to your door drunk as fuck?" He sighs before exclaiming an Aha presumably because he found the toothbrush he was looking for.

"You really need to stop drinking that much, especially alone. I'm not always gonna be here to be a pick me up for your sorry ass." You throw the blankets you pulled out onto the bed and jumped in face first. "So comfy." It's meant as a whisper, but Wilbur manages to pick it up.

"Save some blankets for me, meanie." He turns on the faucet and he's then silent for a moment before the sound of brushing sounds from the bathroom.

"No, they're mine. I bought them with my money, dickwad." You grunt and turn over, wrapping yourself in a little blanket cacoon.

Wilbur lets out a laugh, and the faucet sounds again before the tapping of the toothbrush on the side of the sink. Before you know it, the other side of the bed dips and you feel a blanket being snatched from you. You don't have the energy to fight it, so you let it go.

"Wow, my best friend being generous to me? What world do we live in.." He mutters, laughing more to himself than anything.

"Too tired to care."

"Not because you love me? Oh my heart!" He dramatically clutches his heart and lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Only because tired." Your words become more slurred and they're muffled by the pillow you have your face in.

"Yeah, yeah." He sighs, and then tosses around a few times, getting comfortable. The bed creaks with his every move and you can hear him groan in annoyance at the sound.

The creaking stops, and Wilbur stops moving. He's situated now, but he's on his back staring at the ceiling.

Many thoughts run through his mind but one in particular stands out; Should I tell them?

The concept is foreign, expressing undiscussed emotion that could be detrimental information if provided at the wrong time—it's scary. What is he meant to do? Lye around and pretend he didn't get nervous at your touch, or your pet names or the way you willingly am letting him sleep next to you—and while the latter wasn't unusual in the past, it was now, given the two of you being in your early 20s and having been avoiding sleepovers since you turned 18. Although there was only so much you could do when Wilbur came stumbling to your door pissed out of his mind.

He bit the bullet. What's the worst that could happen? A Lot actually.

But he figured he should give context first, background.

"Do you know why I was sulking that day at James'?" He breaks the comforting silence that fell between you two. He doesn't mind it but he figured he must act now before he chickens out.

"I figured you were just having a bad day, and once I offered a France info dump you seemed pretty okay. Was there something I missed?" You turn your head back to face him, eyebrows knitted in genuine—sober—concern.

"I was upset," He pauses, beginning to place the pieces in his mind of what to say next and then after that and then after that and so on. "It's kind of stupid, I guess-"

You cut him off, "Nothing, and I mean nothing you say is stupid, Wil. I promise." You're sitting up now, crisscrossing applesauce on the bed, your body facing him but your eyes trained on his own eyes. "What was wrong?"

He closes his eyes, "I guess, I was getting sort of fed up with myself. See, I really really like this person—" He pauses to sit up himself, he gazes down at you as he leans his back against the wall. He reaches for your hand and draws circles on your palm with his thumb, his eyes painfully focused on the lines drawn in your skin. "They're wonderful, and one of my closest friends. I've liked them for a long while, love them even but a part of me knows they don't reciprocate my feelings—so I was feeling sorry for myself. It had been years and no moves had been made and so I felt hopeless. That person was so happy that day, and I was pissed I wasn't the reason for their smile." He sighs, letting go over your hand and leaning against the headboard, eyes closed shut.

Your voice is but a whisper, "Who is this mystery person?"

He hesitates for a moment, but he's this far already, there isn't any going back.

"You." The answer is simple, straightforward and blunt but it hits you hard nonetheless. Handfuls of emotion are thrown at you like confetti and you can't even begin to sift through and identify them all. You're in shock, that's for sure, but everything else? There's no telling.

You smack his shoulder, "William! You should have said sooner, you asshole!" Your tone is playful but your words would say otherwise. Elated.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He rubs the side of his arm, wincing for a split second before meeting your eyes.

"Not telling me." Frustration.

Silence, no more words slip from either of your tongues. It's simply quiet, the humming of the fan you set up hours ago, sirens sounding outside in the city —your breathing, his breathing. Fear.

"I like you too, you know." You look down, despite him already confessing to you, admitting this is still terrifying, and odd to you.

"Oh, I know." He smiles, and you mentally smack yourself for saying something you know would get some stupid snarky comment.

"You and your damn ego, Soot." You shake your head, smiling fondly at him.

"Oh but don't you love my ego, my dear?" The man is still tipsy.

"Hey, why don't you shut up?" He smirks, and you immediately regret your words, well, partially — he reaches his hand up to rest on your cheek, and he brings your face closer to his, lips millimeters apart and breath fanning on each other's faces.

"Can I?" It's a simple request but you nod, smiling whilst your heart warms. He leans in closer, your own lips meeting his in a soft loving exchange.

You smile into the kiss, giggling a few times throughout. You rest your hands on the back of his neck and his own hands fall to rest on your sides.

It's not as dramatic as you imagined, figuring if he felt the same he would have some grand confession —but you like this, you really do. It's calm, private—it's tremendously better than a heated confession in the rain, at least in your opinion.

You both break apart, smiles wide as ever and you're out of breath. You lurch forward, wrapping your arms around him and your head hitting his chest, settling into him. It takes him a moment to reciprocate but when he does, his own arms snake around you, pulling you closer to him.

Wilbur's head dips down to rest on top of yours and you hum happily. This is it, this is what joy feels like, doesn't it? Warm arms around you, the sound of his beating heart—he starts to hum, what sounds like one of his songs.

The night goes on like this, the two of you wrapped around each other, Wilbur humming songs he knows or wrote and the occasional comment on how long it took you two, followed by laughter.

This was joy, he was joy.

The next day, you awoke to your phone buzzing like no tomorrow. You were groggy and really didn't want to even bother looking, but the sound managed to send you into a slight panic. Your legs were still wrapped with Wilbur's, and his head was resting on your chest and his stupidly long arms were pulling you into him. You looked over at the end table on your left and snuck your phone into your grip.

You groaned as you pressed answer on the incoming call that created your woken state. It was James.

"What do you want, James? It's 2am." Your tone is that of a very annoyed person, and James winces over the call.

"I hadn't heard from you and Wilbur's not answering his phone or his door, so I figured you two ran off and died." His words all jumbled together and you laugh much to his distaste, "Be serious here!"

"We should've run off, honestly. Maybe we would have gotten some peace and quiet then." You set your gaze down at the man with his arms around you, and you smiles sweetly.

"You're a dick—are you two okay? Do I need to send like a police force or something?" James is still frantic with how he speaks but you can tell he's calming down by the second.

"We're fine James, okay? We're at my place. We drank a little last night and my apartment was the closest." You pause, but before he can get a word in, "Thank you for setting us up." There's a smirk on your face and James can hear it in the way you spoke.

"What—I, I didn't set you up!" He's quick to his defense and you laugh.

"Yeah, no you definitely did."

"Did it work?" He asks, ditching the defensive attitude from the moment prior.

"Yeah, yeah it did. Thank you." You lean your head back, phone still pressed to your ear and your free hand carding through Wilbur's mop of curls.

"Good."

#cc!wilbur #cc!wilbur x reader #dsmp wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x gn!reader #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x y/n #happy (much early) valentines day!

327 notes · View notes

madneedshelp · 1 year

Text

Redemption - Josh Kiszka x FReader

Summary: After an accident leaves you on the brink of death, the images of your life flash by while you’re in this limbo state. All the moments with the best friend you never got the courage to confess to consume you at the end. Now, all you can do is beg and plead for one last chance with him. Words: 3.3k

Warnings: Description of accident, language, mentions of death, alcohol use

Note: Ok so I know this fic is just super out of pocket, the idea came to me at like 2 am during finals week when my brain was fried, but I wrote it anyway. Also, I tried to not insinuate any religious afterlife specifications just because obviously not everyone has the same beliefs, so I promise I don’t want to offend anyone. I hope you all enjoy my weird fic!

There was no way to describe the way you were feeling except as saying you felt nothing. It was almost as if you were nothing. You were in an abyss of nothingness, but in a warm and bright way. It was comforting, not terrifying.

Still, you were vaguely conscious of the fact that this was…odd. Time didn’t seem to affect you, so you weren’t sure how long it took you to remember what happened to you.

There was an accident. It had poured so heavily the day before, but you and your two friends were on a hiking trip and determined to do a trail anyway. There was a small break in the rain and both you and Josh decided you should seize your opportunity. Jake had tried to be the voice of reason, but the two of you pulled him along anyway.

You were about halfway done when it was like the skies opened up and rain swamped you all. There weren't any good options for shelter, so you pushed ahead as fast as you could. By the time you made it to the final stretch, the downpour was thick enough that you couldn’t really see and mud kept trying to take hold of your shoes, but all you had to do was make it uphill and you’d be at the parking lot.

Jake and Josh were ahead of you, just far enough to be out of reach when you slipped. The path was narrow and slick. There weren’t any trees of substantial size along the edges. The combination of all those things ended with you sliding right off the edge of the cliffside.

The last vague memory you had is the sounds of screaming and the flash of fear as you plummeted toward a boulder below.

Despite the warm place you seemed to be in, cold panic started to seep into your veins. Were you dead? You must’ve hit your head on the way down, and now you were…no, no, no, you couldn’t be. You were a year away from finishing your undergrad, you had future trips planned with friends, and you hadn’t even told your best friend that you loved him yet.

Josh. What about Josh? You couldn’t die before you got to tell him how you felt. You had so many opportunities, but you never took any of them because you didn’t want to lose him if he didn’t feel the same. Hundreds of chances, but you always banked on there being a next time. Now you might've run out.

—--8 Years Ago—--

“Josh, I swear if you don’t put that back where it belongs, I will shave your eyebrows while you sleep!” You shouted, taking a good ten steps back from the curly-haired boy.

You should’ve known better than to agree to go to the creek with Josh. He and Jake had been begging you to come down here with you for weeks, but the weather hadn’t been very warm so far. Now that it was summer break, the three of you had ventured out here.

Not that you minded the extra time with Josh. Yeah, he was your best friend, but something was different lately. Though you had never talked about the feelings with anyone before, you knew it was a crush. You really liked this boy, even if he was kind of annoying and a bit of a weirdo.

He looked between you and the newt in his hands with false innocence. “What’s wrong? It’s not gonna hurt you. Don’t you like lizards?”

You held out an arm to signal for him to stay back. “I don’t love them, and also that’s not a lizard. Now please, just put him down.”

“It’s not? Here, why don’t you take a closer look just to check.” A mischievous grin spread across his face as he lunged toward you with the small creature.

You let out a small shriek and took off down the creek. He followed after you instantly while laughing maniacally.

At some point, he either dropped or let the newt go, but it turned into him just chasing you. With the threat of the best gone, your competitive streak started to come alive and you would be damned if you let him beat you. Your legs were just a bit longer than his and you were fast. However, Josh was a ball of energy and he was rapidly gaining on you in the rocky terrain.

Just as his hand closed around your arm you tripped on a slippery rock and the both of you went down with a splash. The two of you kept laughing for a minute until if faded as a silent realization fell upon both of you.

Josh had fallen to where he was on his hands and knees hovering over where you lie on your back. His face was only inches from yours.

Neither of you were sure why the other didn’t move. Whether it was due to actual feelings or simply the curiosity of 13 year old kids starting to wonder about what it would be like to kiss someone, you couldn’t tell. You were stuck with your eyes locked on each other.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out what would’ve happened. You both hesitated a moment too long and Jake’s shouting grabbed your attention. He must’ve returned from his trip back to grab some water.

“Josh! Y/N! Dad said lunch is ready!”

“Coming!” Josh shouted back, scrambling up from his position.

He offered you a hand, which you took shyly, and started to brush yourself off. Neither of you said a word as you made your way back to the grassy lawn where you left your stuff. Jake was already gone by the time you two climbed up the bank.

“Hey, uh, do you want my shirt?” Josh held up the article of clothing.

He was smart enough to have shed it before you played in the creek. Still, his question took you aback.

“What?” You felt your face warm slightly.

He seemed to get a bit more embarrassed as he explained. “Well your shirt got soaked when we fell, so I just wondered if you wanted to borrow it.”

“Oh, um, yeah thanks.” You grabbed the shirt from him with a small smile.

As soon as it was in your hand, it hit you that you’d have to take off your shirt to change. And you were pretty far from the house. And there were very few trees along the creek.

Even at 13 Josh was a good guy. His manners kicked in when it mattered. Without you asking, he swiveled to face the field away from you so you could change and made a playful remark about keeping watch, even though it was highly unlikely that anyone would turn up.

You quickly swapped out your wet t-shirt for his dry one and poked him on the shoulder. “I’m done now.”

“Great, let’s go.” He smiled at you.

He was still quiet on the walk back. Normally, you could handle a comfortable silence with Josh, but this afternoon things were different. The two of you nearly kissed in the creek, you were wearing his shirt, and now you were noticing that he smelt oddly good for a teenage boy.

You would never tell anyone how much you regretted not kissing Josh. He would’ve been your first kiss. You ended up wasting it on some boy at a school dance the following school year, and you didn’t even really like him. But how could you have kissed Josh back at the creek when you didn’t think he wanted the same thing?

—--3 Years Ago—--

“Babe, you look absolutely stunning!” Jake’s girlfriend beamed at you after she finished doing your hair.

You flushed and blew a playful kiss at her. “Stop it, you look gorgeous! I can’t wait to see the look on Jake’s face!”

You and her had become good friends in the time she’d been dating Jake. She’d offered to do your hair for prom if you would do her makeup, and the two of you even went dress shopping together. It was kind of refreshing considering most of the time you hung out with the twins.

“I’m more excited to see Josh’s face. Seriously, there’s no way he’s just gonna sit there all night and keep calling you his best friend. He’s got it bad for you and this is gonna break him.” She smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes at her. “Not true.” It was, though. She had figured out your crush on him a while ago, but you would never admit it.

You and Josh were going to prom together, yes, but just as friends. You broke up with your boyfriend a few weeks ago, and Josh and his girlfriend had ended things around the same time too. That left both of you single and in need of prom dates. It felt only natural to go with your best friend, especially when you’d planned on going with Jake and his girlfriend as a group anyways.

“You know I don’t believe you, but I’d rather go see the proof now, so let’s go.” She winked and pulled you out of her room and downstairs.

As expected, Jake found his girlfriend to be extremely pretty and told her so at least four times. If you hadn’t been paying attention to their goofball romance, you might’ve noticed that Josh was looking at you like you were a shooting star, bright and rare, like if he blinked he would miss you entirely.

Once you stepped over to him, he blinked and cleared his throat nervously. “You look really nice.”

“Thank you, you do too.” You smile at him, trying to keep your voice even. He really did look good. He’d done his best to tame his wild hair and he even got a vest for his suit that matched your dress.

He offered you his arm and the two of you followed behind Jake and his girlfriend to the front yard to take pictures. Everyone’s parents were present, and millions of pictures of everyone and every combination of each were taken. For the next few years you kept a picture of you and Josh from prom in your room, along with your other favorites.

After pictures and dinner, the four of you finally made it to prom and everyone scattered periodically to mingle. Jake and Josh went to talk to some of their other friends, and you and Jake’s girlfriend did the same. Eventually, you all snuck out the back and drank a bit from the flasks you snuck in and returned to repeat the cycle of talking and dancing.

Of course it wouldn’t have been prom without the cheesy slow song thrown randomly in the mix. The four of you happened to have already been on the dance floor dancing to the upbeat song previously played, so Jake and his girlfriend almost immediately switched into slow-dance-mode. That left you and Josh. You were just thinking it would be the perfect time for a drink break when Josh held out his hand.

“Dance with me?” He asked with a grin.

You returned it and nodded. “Of course.”

As the steady ballad crooned from the speakers, you and Josh drifted together. His hand on your waist, your arms around his neck, you looked like every other couple on the dancefloor.

“Crazy to think we’re already here and graduating in like a month.” He chuckled.

“Oh, don’t go getting all sappy on me now, Joshy.”

“Can’t help it, I guess this music is just getting to me. Can I be honest with you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and nodded. “Yeah?”

He chuckled under his breath for a moment before he sobered up a little. “Relax, it’s nothing bad. I’m just glad that I’m here with you.”

You felt the seriousness creep back into you then. “Me too. There’s no one I’d rather be here with.”

The thoughts you had been trying to push away for the past few months were threatening to surface. Graduation in May. Summer break in June and July. Then you’d leave for college in August. After that you’d be states away from your best friends and family.

Just tell him. Say it now while you have the courage. The small voice inside you was screaming, but there was enough of you too terrified to act. You couldn’t ruin prom and the whole summer together if things went south.

Instead, you settled for laying your head on his shoulder and mumbling “I’m going to miss you.”

—--Your 21st Birthday—--

Nashville was a fun place to celebrate your 21st birthday. Since you didn’t get to see your friends often, the three of you splurged on the event and decided to take a trip. While you had all been drinking way before it was legal, being able to go bar hopping was still exciting.

Needless to say, you were all drunk and having a blast. You’d spent the earlier part of the day sightseeing and exploring the city, but tonight was the real reason for the trip.

At the last minute, you invited your college roommate out of nerves. You had gotten lucky to have been matched with Katie, she was now a close friend of yours. That’s why you asked her to come. You hadn’t seen Josh since your last break from school and you were more than a little nervous. You kept in touch over the phone, but in person was different. You were still in love with him, despite the fact that you’d tried to fall for other people, so you brought Katie in case you freaked.

Unfortunately, you forgot about Katie’s weakness for long-haired men and Jake’s tendency to be a bit of a hoe (which you meant completely lovingly). The moment Jake started tipsy-flirting with her, her buzzed self folded. They had been talking for a good part of the night.

However, things between you and Josh were good. You two were cool. You were friendly for the whole day, and now that you were on the drinking portion of the trip, your crush was scaring you less and less. It was definitely the liquid courage in your veins.

It was the dancing at a club that took you all out. The alcohol finally developed its depressant effect and tiredness was beginning to seep over all of you. Thankfully, the Air BnB you rented wasn’t far and you all were able to walk back home safely.

Katie and Jake were dangerously close to making out on the couch once you’d returned, so you and Josh escaped to the balcony. The night air was chilly and the two of you snuggled close to keep warm.

“This is nice.” You murmured, a dreamy smile on your face.

“What is?” Josh mumbled.

“You being here. With me.”

“Hmm I like being with you too, baby.” He hummed happily.

You snuggled into his side. “I love you, Joshy. I wish you were with me all the time.”

He wrapped his arm tighter around you. “I love you too. You’re my best friend, just don’t tell Jake.”

Even in your inebriated state, his words hit you. Best friend. Nothing more. You suddenly felt less buzzed and giggly. You were starting to remember that you were just a girl who had loved her best friend since she was 13 and he didn’t see you as anything else.

Except that he did. You didn’t know it, but he loved you so much. He wanted to tell you that too, but you looked so sad when he said it back that he got too scared to say more.

The trip ended two days later and you all went your separate ways, no closer to the closure that you so desperately wanted from him.

—--Now—--

You wanted to kick yourself as your life flashed past you. So many chances with Josh. Now he would never know that you loved him and you would never know if he loved you.

This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t end like this.

Please.

Anything.

I’ll do anything for one more shot.

I’ll be brave this time.

I’ll make it count.

Please.

“Y/N?”

It was fuzzy, like you were underwater, but you definitely could hear it.

“Can you hear me?”

You couldn’t quite form the words, but you could hear more clearly now. There was a woman speaking.

“Can you hear us?” Another woman spoke.

This time you formed a hum that you hoped was audible enough to be taken as a ‘yes’.

“Do you think you can open your eyes for me?” The woman asked.

Everything was so heavy, but you tried so so hard. You felt someone brush your arm lightly, and realized you could feel it. You could hear and feel and holy shit that meant you weren’t dead. That was the little push you needed to open your eyes.

You were in what was definitely a hospital room and two women in scrubs were watching you carefully.

“Glad to have you with us, Y/N.” The older one smiled. “I’m Dr. Jones and we heard you stirring a couple minutes ago. You’ve had a lot of people pretty worried.”

“Where…” Your voice was thick and raspy, but after a moment it came back enough. “Where are they?”

The nurse answered as she was checking your vitals. “One of the two boys that brought you in went to the cafeteria a few minutes ago. They said your family was on their way. You’ve been out for almost two days.”

That thought made you nauseous, but then your mind went back to her first words. “Josh?”

The nurse smiled at you. “Yes, I believe that’s him.”

“Y/N?”

You looked over at the doorway to be met with the sight of Josh. He looked exhausted. His eyes were rimmed in dark circles and he just looked…sad. But he was your Josh and it was the best sight you’d ever seen for that reason.

“Looks like you’re stable and doing well, so we’ll give you two a moment. Just take it easy.” Dr. Jones said before stepping out of the room with your nurse.

Josh was at your side in an instant, tears in his eyes. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. We should never have went out there. They didn’t know if you were going to make it. We were so scared. I was so scared. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You placed your hand gently on his arm and shook your head. “It’s not your fault. I made the choice to go. It was just an accident.”

“An accident on the trip I planned. On the hike I suggested. Baby, I’m so sorry.” The tears were falling down his face now.

You slowly lifted a hand to his face. “You didn’t do this, Josh. You actually saved me.”

“No I didn’t. Jake’s the one that carried you in. I…I was too hysterical, I couldn’t calm down.”

“No, not that. I kept seeing you. I had to get back to you. I think that’s what brought me back.” You smiled.

“What?” He wiped at his eyes.

“I couldn’t go, Josh. Not without telling you that I love you. I’ve been in love with you for so many years, and I know this isn’t a great time to say it, but I’m too scared to wait for something else to happen.”

“You mean that?” He croaked.

“I mean it. I love you.”

A fresh wave of tears slid down his cheeks. “God, I should’ve told you sooner. I love you too. I love you so much, and I never want to lose you. I need you.”

This time you took your chance. You pressed a light kiss to his lips and he leaned into it. Sure, you wished the circumstances were different and you could really kiss him, but you would absolutely take this moment over the alternative.

You would spend the rest of your life making the most of your second chance.

#josh kiszka #greta van fleet #writing #x y/n #imagines #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiskza #greta van fleet fan fiction #fanfic #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka one shot #josh kiszka angst #josh kiszka x y/n #second chance at life #josh kiszka x you #josh gvf

78 notes · View notes

deuterosapiens · 2 months

Text

So, there's a new Echoes of Wisdom trailer. There's a few points I want to talk about, so give that a glance if you can.

youtube

We now know things! A few things, however, stood out to me like a giant neon sign.

There's the obvious hints that screw with any of our initial timeline assumptions, which just shows how annoying it is that Zelda Theorists tend to jump on definitive answers when we have nowhere near the full picture. As a friend of mine pointed out, Gerudo tend to exist in every timeline except the Downfall. The Sea/River Zora split, however, only appears in the Downfall Era. Deku Scrubs, however, give me a headache: their primary presence is antagonistic in Ocarina of Time, their next appearance is Majora's Mask which does not take place in Hyrule; following this is Minish Cap, where they are debateably friendly; and Triforce Heroes which I did not play, but is a Downfall Era game.

The placement of Kakariko Village in relation to Death Mountain is interesting, as this is seen in Ocarina of Time, and Twilight Princess but to my memory, no other game. Additionally, Death Mountain is known as Eldin Mountain here, which is exclusively seen in Skyward Sword, to my memory.

The Zora having the Sea/River split is Downfall exclusive, but what's interesting is that their villages are not found in a named Lanayru Region, but the Jabul Region (named obviously for Jabu Jabu, Jabun, etc). This could just be an odd naming convention, but we will get to this momentarily. We also see a snowy Region which might be Hebra, though let's not forget that Twilight Princess places its snowy mountains in Lanayru, if I recall correctly. What's interesting about this snowy Region is we see none of it in the trailers, but I'm going to assume there's some residency or settlement there. If so, it could be Rito as established by Breath of the Wild, it could be Yeti, as established by Twilight Princess, it could be Anouki, as seen in Phantom Hourglass. It could be any of the previously seen and confirmed to be present Races, or it could be uninhabited. We don't know, but it does have gears turning to me.

What's honestly jumping out to me the most though is the Gordo. Yeah, a single enemy is causing me a spectacular degree of headache and speculation. If I recall correctly, they appear in exactly one game: Link's Awakening. They are notable though, as they are not traditional Zelda enemies, they are Kirby enemies. They exist as roadblocks in Link's Awakening, but they are another piece of evidence hinting at the true nature of Koholint Island. Now, Echoes of Wisdom clearly borrows a substantial amount from the Switch version of Link's Awakening, so it could just be a bear developmental Easter Egg. Or it could be a hint at a significant development. Or I'm overthinking that, which is a distinct possibility.

Zelda walking into the fissures at the end of this trailer seems to hint at more Dual World gameplay. This is to be expected, as Dual World gameplay is kind of a staple of the series. As this Hyrule does take inspiration from the Hyrule of A Link to the Past (and its sequel), it wouldn't be too farfetched for us to assume there's another bit of Light World/Dark World, Hyrule/Lorule interplay here. Again, an assumption with little evidence.

Yikes, a lot of timey-wimey discussion and I haven't even hit of any of the more pressing details: the Bind Mechanic.

Bind is clearly an answer to Magnesis and Ultrahand, with Reverse Bond being the exact same mechanic... in REVERSE!! I have nothing to say about Bind because we've had two games with this mechanic that have sold me on it as a puzzle-solving tool, but the use of Reverse Bond reminds me a bit of the Hookshot in some situations, and the Dominion Rod in others (is the Tri Rod the Cane of Somaria, or the Dominion Rod??? I can hear some theorists screaming in hyper-editted video format. No, no it likely isn't. There's no evidence of either, at this point).

Horses! Zelda is seen riding two separate horses, which imply that she doesn't just have the one and can likely find and tame others, or that she has the option of purchasing or gaining different horses with different stats through quests or other means. I like the white one! It's preeeeeeetty. (Did that make you uncomfortable, hearing that in my own voice made me uncomfortable, and since you have no idea what my voice sounds like, just assume Sméagol's first encounter with Shadowfax).

Outfits! I have no opinion here. I cared about playing dress-up in Tears of the Kingdom for one reason, and that took 152 Shrines to deal with. But, if Zelda receives an outfit based on the three Dragon Armors, she will be the most Opulent Princess to ever Opulent Princess!

There's definitely an obvious focus on finding your own solutions which is becoming the new normal for Zelda titles, and I absolutely love this approach. Though I see there's a bit of backlash from other fans, who would like a more traditional approach where one puzzle has one solution. I enjoy those games, I adore those games. I love the direction we are taking though, and if we could find a healthy blend between the two, I do feel we will have reached peak Zelda.

I'm excited, my excitement has not wavered but it has been renewed. I'm ready for this game!

#zelda #legend of zelda echoes of wisdom #tloz:eow #loz eow #echoes of wisdom #top-down zelda supremacy #can I please have another Ancient Hero though? my heart demands it!#Youtube

6 notes · View notes

englass · 2 years

Text

Plains and Valleys

Pairing(s): John Seed x Deputy/Reader

Warning(s): John is his own warning; Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour; John being creepy; Stalking; kind-of Crack, this isn’t taken all that seriously; Not Beta’d; Experimental Piece; NSFW/Explicit, my first (and likely only) attempt at smut -- please kindly let me know if there’s anything else I should warn of here, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Word Count: 4,020

A/N(s): The title is basically a placeholder for while I was writing this because I had no idea what to name it... and truly, I can’t be asked to think of something better for a piece that only exists to see if I can write smut (spoilers: I can’t, but I’m not letting a completed piece rot away in my docs just because I’m embarrassed; I worked and spent time on this damnit!).

On another note, I was gonna just give this piece over as my contribution to WIP day that @derelictheretic was kind enough to tag me in, but decided against it. I’ll post a proper response and WIP later this week or next, so bear with me please hun! Just wanted to get this out there first.

- - -

John had a problem.

Well, he had many problems. Not least of all his growing frustration at the continued resistance from the Fairgraves' in his pursuit for the deed to their ‘establishment’. He also had been unable to play with Affirmation as regularly as he would have liked, so that put him in an even fouler mood than usual. And he wasn't going to even think about the stress he was starting to feel with his brother constantly breathing down his neck; always questioning his actions as though he were a child constantly getting into trouble and needing twenty-four hour monitoring, always asking after the progress of things that take time. A lot of time.

John may have a substantial amount of money at his disposal, but that does not mean he can work miracles.

Not all of the time, at least.

And his problems don’t stop there, oh no. Despite what many likely thought of him (and what a stroke to his ego that is, knowing that people think of him) John was well aware of his problems, his faults. He’d spent a lot of time getting intimate with them, after all; and every now and again they'd crop up like daisies, weeding their way to the surface yet again. He’d become rather good at managing them, if he said so himself, but even John wasn’t perfect (he was damn close to it though, as many would agree). And one fault he hadn’t quite been able to trim back was his tendency to fixate on things; obsess.

He obsesses over his plane, over its upkeep and maintenance, its flight records, the slightest scratch that wasn't there the day before-- how the fuck did that get there!?

He obsesses over the details on the manifestos he’s given, the contracts he’s made, dates and times for resource collection, rotations, their members' personal records (he denies having those), PR management, expenditures and everything in between.

He obsesses over his home, the décor, the colours and lighting, materials used, the whole aesthetic. How he presents himself, the clothes and brands he wears (it’s vain but he needs those creature comforts), his posture, his presence, his overall look that creates an identity that just screams nothing but John.

He obsesses over things.

He knows he does. It’s a faulty blessing.

And he has found something new to obsess over.

John has had a few run-ins with the local Deputies of Hope County in the past. Mostly Joey Hudson, delightful as she is, but ordinarily he doesn’t think too much of them. After all, he’s untouchable and they all know it. There’s no reason to worry about them, let alone waste his precious free time (what little he gets of it) thinking about them. They’re insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an inconvenience, an annoyance at most. Completely irrelevant.

But then he saw her.

Standing there, innocuous, looking out at something (for something? Nothing?) in the distance.

There’s a hitch, the catch of a stilted breath.

Where they were keeping her hidden he has no idea, but he is taken the moment he catches that rogue glance of her.

And, strangely, he doesn't know why.

Sure, John and his brothers have been in this County for a good while now and he has never seen her before, so it’s perfectly normal for him to be curious about the unfamiliar face in town. Nothing wrong with that, it’s innocent enough.

Except there’s everything wrong with that.

Because that’s not it.

He can’t even blame his wandering eyes on her appearance; she’s wearing that drab uniform that even a charity shop wouldn’t take, and it does nothing to enhance whatever natural beauty she may have hidden underneath it. Although, the girl-next-door look she gives off is begrudgingly cute (if he dared to utter the word unironically).

Honestly, she’s not the type of woman that he typically would have paid any special attention to back in his lawyer days. Fucked her stupid maybe, for the extra notch in his bedpost, but he likely wouldn’t have taken her number or thought too much about her afterwards. Relegated to just another lay in a long line of bed partners that he doesn’t remember all the names of.

To be blunt, she isn’t anything special.

And maybe that’s part of the appeal, what hooks him in. Because she is different; unassuming and uncomplicated, modest to a point of simplicity. And yet there is something about her that he can’t actively see or name from his spot across the street that has drawn him in without even trying. And he doesn’t know what or why.

It’s as infuriating as it is intriguing.

Perhaps there is some iota of truth in what Joseph had said to him a while ago, John supposed silently to himself at the time: the simplest of things can be beautiful, in their own unconventional ways.

Although his brother could have said as much with far less words, verses, and vague allusions to a potential future that might never be-- a spark of sudden change that sets a new course in motion; scales tipped by the most consuming of emotions; scorched by a soul so deceptively unremarkable that no one would have thought to believe just how uniquely special they would become--

…

……

… Huh…

John creates a special slot in his increasingly hectic schedule just for her from then on out.

He goes out of his way to find more reasons to harass and bother the local population, all in a fruitless attempt to get lucky and have her answer their call for aid and come and tell him what a bad boy he’s being. (Annoyingly she never turns up, though.)

He makes calls and pulls some strings to the businesses he’s procured, makes inquiries to anyone that would listen to him, including those doing menial tasks or even going through their Atonement (they don’t understand the relevancy of his questioning and he may have been a little harsher with them than he should’ve been because of it), and all in the name of his personal investigation into her.

After all, he had argued to himself in front of a cork board covered with documents and pictures of her with a feverish flavour, what sort of Herald would he be if he didn't know everything about everyone living in his-- their, his and his brothers, soon-to-be County?

His invasive and not completely legal search into this new Deputy (and she is new it turns out, freshly transferred in fact) goes on for a full, nonstop month before -- during one of his totally-random-and-not-planned stops into town -- he discovers something else about her.

When he first saw his Deputy (and doesn’t that feel good to say) she was alone, leaning against the wooden beam of the Sheriff’s Department’s porch and staring out into the distant fields; the late afternoon sun haloing her figure in its golden warmth, its light making the colour of her eyes blaze bright and her hair shine silkily. The perfect picture of ease.

This time, when he finally manages to spy another in-person look at her, he finds that she has company. She’s standing next to the ever friendly Hudson, posture held strong by an understated confidence and arms casually crossed beneath her bust, an amused smile on her decidedly pretty face as Hudson talks animatedly about something that he can’t hear.

And she’s looking up at her.

John blinks, and blinks again.

He’s definitely seen her file, he even remembers glossing through her medical records (which he would most assuredly deny having if anyone asked), so he knows how tall she is. But for some reason it apparently hadn’t quite registered to him until now what that would look like in a physical comparison between the two of them.

He knows that the lovely Hudson is a couple of inches shorter than him, not too far off from meeting him eye-to-eye. His Deputy, from what he can see, is about a full head shorter than Hudson. Which would put her, what, roughly just about eye-to-chest with him...?

He thinks about it. Thinks about her next to him, imagines what that would look like. Thoughts surprisingly innocent as he wonders after clichés of reaching for something that she can’t reach, of cocooning her in his arms as he effortlessly wrangles her into his lap. Envisions the domesticity of easily resting his head on top of hers as he holds her from behind, slotting himself into the mould of her figure like matching puzzle pieces, perfectly meant to be and belong…

A high pitched, shaky sound slips free at the mental reel.

It’s not a secret the type of life that John used to live. He has been with numerous types of women, something he used to take a great deal of pride in, and has indulged in and explored his fair share of kinks in the comfort of expensive silk sheets. But who would have guessed that the former playboy, John Duncan now John Seed, would have a thing for domestic bliss.

Or rather, domestic bliss with little. ol’. her.

John makes the executive decision then and there to talk to his Deputy as soon as possible. Preferably alone. Without interference.

It feels like forever before he gets the opportunity.

A week later, on a daily walk through Falls End that has only admittedly become a thing in order to check up on the lucky woman of his blazing affections (I am not stalking her, Jacob, he had grounded out menacingly to his accusing older brother over Sunday dinner; who proceeded to look on at John with a slow quirk of an eyebrow), he finds his ever elusive Deputy resting around the corner of the Sheriff’s Department’s building. Eyes closed, head down, arms crossed, and safely concealed in the shade; unsuspectingly calm in her desired time alone.

And John is quick to ruin it.

He can’t help himself, he really can’t. The opportunity is here and he would be remiss to let it pass him by.

Even if she does look rather serene.

He's seen a few photos of her, more than a few actually-- albums worth even, so he knows what she looks like up close. He even printed one out (it’s a favourite of his, a near perfect replica of the first time he saw her) and has it framed on his bedside table; but it turns out no amount of photos quite do the real her justice.

The closer he gets to her the more he notices how petite she is, how the loose yet deceptively form-fitting hug of her bland uniform subtly accentuates the curves and slopes of her modest figure; the daintiness of her fingers as they rest against the exposed, smooth skin of her arms; that familiar magnetic draw snapping to life in the colour of her eyes as they lazily open, sparkling as he gets closer and she looks up at him, wide and wondering.

Innocent.

Oh, he was so wrong about her, he realises wondrously. Did her such a disservice in his initial judgement of her all those weeks ago. She is far from average.

And being here in front of her, close enough to touch, to be able to easily reach out and trap her against the wall and between his arms if he so wanted to, safely protected under the cage of his form -- her neck craning back in order to comfortably gaze up at him, meeting his eyes as he stares down at her…

It makes something inside him go wild.

John lays the charm on quick and swift, hand attractively running through his hair as a practised but handsome smile lights up his face, eyes twinkling through his lidded gaze with an aweing hunger he knows he is failing to keep hidden.

Getting the first word in, he leans close to the wall, not quite putting his full weight against it (his shirt was expensive) but close enough to allow him a moment of privacy with her by limiting her field of view to only him. Blocking out everyone-- everything else with his taller frame (and doesn’t that thought spark a sudden twitch of interest) as he eagerly monopolises her attention.

Daringly he edges further into her space while he talks ardently to her, truly basking in the unexpected pleasure he gets in watching her unintentionally baring her neck to him; being so beautifully submissive for him without consciously realising it. Amusement colouring his tone in pale notes as he watches the way her pretty eyes darken and narrow at his progressive disturbance and invasion of her time and space.

Fuck. He didn’t know it would be this intoxicating to be so close to her.

Even as he dances through conversation with playful words and hinting remarks, becomes enamoured by the soothing intonation of her voice as she is dragged along with guarded comments and wary retorts, he can’t stop the way his mind ever so sinfully wanders…

It really would be so easy to have her up against this wall. To crowd her in with his frame on all sides and her vision filled with nothing but him. The centre of her universe and attention, him; and his hers. The concept of that sort of all-encompassing intimacy and devotion makes John shudder. Hungry all the more for it and the woman that has unknowingly given him a taste of what it could all be and become, of what that level of pure, unadulterated want is inspiring in him.

He could easily have her against this wall. Have her looking directly skyward up at him as if he were her moon and stars, as he looks directly down at her-- his entire world and more.

Snatch her thigh and hoist it up towards his waist. Have her balancing precariously on the tips of her toes and clutching desperately at him, trusting John to help hold and support her and keep her steady as he shields her from the world around them. Hides her away from the unworthy just as the unworthy have hidden her away from him. His lips sweetly latching onto hers, her taste finally on his tongue after all these weeks of wanting, involuntarily grounding his hips into hers as a desperate sound breaks within his throat.

Oh, John can visualise it now: the two of them breathing in each other's air, bodies flush as he tugs and pushes closer, her shirt riding up as it's snagged by the rough brickwork at her back, arching into him on an unsteady foot to escape its harsh bite. Teeth nipping teasingly at her lips and tongue licking moreishly into her mouth as his free hand roams down her stomach, pulls the rest of her shirt loose and fumbles in his eagerness with the buttons of her jeans, yanking the zipper down and shoving his hand below the waistband and into her underwear. Hearing her whine sweetly into his mouth as he feels just how wet she is for him, how much she wants him and how eagerly she welcomes him into her as he plunges his fingers into her slick cunt with a needy and quaking moan of his own.

Would she want it quick and rough? His fingers thrusting knuckle deep as he presses tight circles to her throbbing clit, teeth at her throat as he claws into her thigh held tightly in the dip of his waist. Listening to how her moans get higher, her breathing gets quicker, turning into desperate little gasps before he tugs his fingers free of her; lips devouring hers in quick apology as he battles to pull his aching cock free, cursing lowly against her lips as his slick covered fingers slip on the metal of his belt. She’d help him, he knows she would -- such a good girl --, nipping and kissing him back with wanton sounds as she bats his hand away, revelling in the noises he makes for her -- only for her, only ever for her -- as she pulls him free; rolling her hips until his cock catches on her slit and he’s thrusting home into her.

Only then -- while feeling her walls flex around him, mouth hanging open as they both bask in finally, finally being so intimately connected to one another -- would he finally hike her other leg up to wrap fully around his waist, fully supporting her weight and driving himself deeper into her, one of his arms coming up to press into the wall beside her, hand caringly slipping behind her head; bracketing her in. Shivering as her breath warms his neck and she cries out for him.

And considering her height… fuck, he can only imagine just how tight she’d be for him, chocking his cock as she squeezes him, milking him for all he’s worth until his teeth are stained red against her lovingly maimed neck. His hips snapping into hers with a guttural growl, panting sensual snarls of encouragement into her ear as he demands and begs in equal measure that she touch herself for him, dexterous fingers chasing her end as he chases his own until-- she’s coming around him with a high and shuddery keen. Her soft walls sucking him deeper into her, legs locking tighter around his waist and keeping him there as he spills himself into the back of her hot cunt with a strangled moan. Claiming her as his as he presses in closer, plugging her full with his cock and cum and praying that it’ll take--

…

……

… Huh.

He will definitely be exploring that at a later date…

Or perhaps she wouldn’t want it like that. Wouldn’t want him to be so rough and careless with her. Maybe she would want him to go slower, to be gentle-- to be good for her, to take his time and truly enjoy and appreciate every sweet beg and whimper that falls from her perfect lips. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to fuck him at the back of her shabby place of work, or even anywhere out in the open; maybe she would prefer privacy, for him to make love to her. Would want him to steal her away into his home, to carefully lay her out on his bed and unwrap her like a delicate gift, hands tracing teasing paths along her body before spreading her wide for his tasting pleasures. Taking his time to truly savour her unique flavour on his palette, wanton sounds pressed into sensitive flesh as he takes her throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks.

Broad strokes of his skilled tongue parting her lips and drinking her down, fingers firm as they hold onto the soft meat of her thighs and hips, thumbs rubbing soothing motions into her skin as he opens her up for him. Urges her with hot breathes, praising words, the flick of his tongue and the dip of his fingers into her wet heat, to cum for him; pleads with sound and touch and a greedy haze over his lust-darkened eyes. The gravel in his gluttonous voice vibrating into her, in love with how she reaches and cries out for him as he tells her how good she’s being for him, how badly he needs her to cum for him-- a debauched sound choking out of him as she does. Completely enraptured as she reaches the height of pleasure -- pleasure he brought her, that he will always strive to bring her --, bearing witness to his own personal God-given vision as he watches her writhe against his sheets and listens to her songs of praise, easing her down from that divine high and back into his devoted embrace.

Kissing a line up to her bitten lips, answering her mewls with soft coos and grounding touches, brushing over a nipple before taking the perky flesh into his mouth with a brief suck and fleeting skim of teeth, letting go with a lingering kiss before moving across and repeating the process to its twin. Reluctantly drawing away to playfully nip and press wet kisses into the column of her throat before letting her taste the tanginess of her juices on his tongue. Languidly kissing as he strokes her sides, writing indecipherable words of affection into her skin, content to let her enjoy the bliss of post-orgasm before he slowly pulls away, descending back down the line of her body with a husky, ‘one more, just one more for me, darling...’

John knows he wouldn’t stop at just ‘one more’ though. Hopefully she’d be generous enough to give him a few more before he finally slakes his need for her.

And hopefully she doesn't see the hard-on he’s now sporting after such vivid fantasies.

In a particularly bold move, temptation spurred into a fever from improper imaginings, John reaches for her; fixates on a strand of hair that has become untucked from behind her ear. She tenses, muscles coiling tight as she gives him the most suspicious look somebody has ever given him before. He’s actually rather offended. And very hurt.

But it’s sobering, in its own way. Because suddenly he can hear Joseph’s voice in his head from last Sunday (what a turn-off…), advising him that if he wanted to pursue a relationship with this Deputy that he was so smitten with then he needed to be gentle, considerate.

John may have done his ‘research’ on her, extensively so, but that did not mean that he was entitled or even deserving of her affections. He could not expect her to be on the same page as him, especially considering he had yet to even interact with her at that point. She may not have even heard of him yet, Joseph had speculated-- John and Jacob quietly sharing a disbelieving look. Everyone in the County knew their names, and with her being a Deputy there was no way she hadn’t heard of them.

Regardless, Joseph’s point still stood: if John wanted a genuine chance with her then he needed to soften himself, to be delicate, more tactful with her. Demonstrate that he can hear and see her for all that she is and can be, and that he accepts her without reservation.

Think of it like Atonement, Joseph had supplied sagely, fingers steepled, she needs to willingly give her confession over to you, John. Her affections. You can’t just take them.

And to Joseph’s credit, that actually made sense to John.

Atonement was all about accepting one’s sins, confessing them to another whom they trusted would never condemn nor judge them for their past actions or choices; unburdening themselves so they may be reborn pure and untainted for the hopeful future ahead of them. In that regard, his pursuit of his Deputy wasn’t too dissimilar.

So in that brief moment, in that flash of hurt as she steels herself against his considerate gesture and where John remembers Joseph’s words, he pauses. Convinces himself to go slower, to not try to grab at her like a spoiled brat reaching for things that weren't his-- yet. Reigns himself in enough so he doesn’t give her anymore of a reason to potentially be wary of him, to which he has very likely just given her quite a few. Trying in his own distinct way to smooth over her obvious distrust of him.

John knows he’s made mistakes throughout his life. Many would say he’s not a good man, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree with them. But seeing and learning of her, of recalling his brother’s words and advice, of the many fantasies he’s had before and even during meeting her in this moment, he thinks he could change that. Knows that, if she would have him, if she gave him the chance, he’d be good. He’d be good for her.

Joseph always talks about love, about the power and control it wields over people and-- admittedly, John doesn’t completely get it.

But with her? For her? He thinks he just might.

…

He thinks he already does.

#can you tell i didn't know how to end this?#what a mess #plot is less than half baked #but hey i had fun with it so that's good #also #because i love ruining people's day #i can't help but read that first line in Jeremy Clarksons voice. makes this whole thing that bit funnier to me #oh and if anyone would like to draw a certain scene of John and a cork board that would be most appreciated #absolute pinnacle of me going silly with this fic #love it #also also #i was aiming to get this out for halloween because of how scary the writing is but i'm an hour late :(#very typical of me but i'm still disappointed #but it's okay i have my bed waiting for me so all is well lol #john seed x reader #john seed x deputy #john seed x female deputy #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #fc5 fanfic #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 fanfic #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: stalking #tw: possessive behavior #don't feel like he's that possessive in this but still tagging just in case

192 notes · View notes