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iamnotoriginalphil · 6 months ago

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Story Book Romance (Larissa Weems x f!Reader)

Synopsis: As the owner of a bookstore in Jericho, you've gotten rather good at giving recommendations to your customers. There's only one woman you desperately want to give one to.

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: discussions of discrimination, like one swear word

AN: It's been a hot minute since I've written for Larissa so please be kind. I'm a bit rusty. I hope it's still good.

The first time you’d walked into your shop, you’d fallen in love. It had been an empty space, but you had been able to see exactly what it would become. Inch by inch you built it up into your dream.

All these years later, your bookshop was thriving.

You hadn’t been sure about settling down in Jericho. The town was picturesque and it had a deep sense of history, but you weren’t sure if there was a market for a bookshop. You’d only meant to be passing through. Still, the space had called to you so you’d created a safe haven for yourself.

The large window at the front let in sunlight to warm the room, catching the motes of dust as they spun in the air. Shelves pushed against the walls and freestanding, creating mazes of books for customers to get lost in. Potted and hanging plants bringing some life to the space. The air smelt of ink and paper and stories, the scent you’d grown up with, comforting you even on the darkest of nights.

You hadn’t expected to be so embraced by the community. Perhaps you should have. The quaint town ran at a more leisurely pace than the city, giving the time for browsing stacks upon stacks of books, taking time to read a book on a warm summer afternoon. You’d grown to have the reputation to be able to recommend the perfect book to anyone.

The first time she’d walked into your shop, you hadn’t thought much of it. The bell had rang out, sweet in the quiet atmosphere of the shop. One more customer, one more story, the joy of helping someone discover something they might love. You’re turned the corner and immediately been struck dumb.

She was glorious. It was the first word that had come to your mind when you’d laid eyes on her. Tall, statuesque, elegant. Incredibly beautiful. Red lips had pulled up into a pleasant smile upon seeing you, blue eyes sweeping over your shop with a twinkle lighting her up from the inside out. Silver hair swept up, showing the long line of her neck only made you want to feel her pulse under your lips. The body hugging dress was unfair, leaving you feeling frumpy in your jeans and cardigan.

“Do you need any help?” you’d managed to stutter out, pushing past the sheer awe you felt looking at her.

She hadn’t, her voice smooth and lovely when she’d answered. Her accent made your mouth grow dry and your knees turn to jelly. So you’d turned on your heels and disappeared back into the safety of your stacks. You were lost, and it wasn’t to your own imagination this time.

Despite not being very helpful, she’d continued to come back, slowly exploring your store with each visit.

One such day in early fall, you could be found reshelving in the lull between customers. It had been a busy morning, a group of tourists having swept through for you to clean up after. You were humming to yourself, lingering over each book, doing your best not to let your thoughts linger on the beautiful woman that kept visiting your shop.

Over the last few months she’d come in at least once a week. You’d felt her presence like electricity on the air each time. She’d linger, browsing longer and longer before picking a book and bringing it to the counter to be rung up. Each time she’d offered you a smile, a comment, the brush of her gloved fingers in the exchange. It set your heart racing.

But she’d never asked for a recommendation before. You longed to give her one, to see if the woman you’d built in your head was anything like reality.

The bell above the door rang out. You ignored it, knowing you’d be found eventually if you were needed. Stretching up onto your tiptoes, you pushed a book back into place. Unlike the shelves along the walls, this one didn’t have a rolling ladder for you. Instead, stepstools were scattered throughout, waiting to be of some use to the poor person wanting to reach the top shelf.

A small meow caught your attention.

“I know, Moppet. It is a travesty.”

Your kitten, a calico you’d rescued off the street, had taken to shouting her opinion at you whenever the chance presented itself. In true bookshop fashion, you’d thought a cat would only add to the atmosphere. Unfortunately, yours just seemed to want to complain to anyone that would listen.

Another meow.

“Have you considered using your words?” you asked, scooping her up, “you’re always so quiet, Moppet.”

Her claws sunk in as she clambered onto your shoulder, balancing precariously. You bent your head towards her, letting her bump her own head against your cheek. She rubbed against you, her little purring making you smile.

“Is that the newest employee?”

You startled, your hand coming up to keep from jostling Moppet as you turned. She was standing at the end of the stack, those blue eyes sparkling as they peered at you. Your cheeks heated and you felt frozen on the spot. Approaching, a smile stretched over her red painted lips as she looked at your little kitten.

“This is Moppet,” you said as if that was the obvious answer to the question.

She held her finger out and the little traitor rubbed against it, her purring increasing. She gave her a gentle scratch behind the ear. Those blue eyes met yours and you flushed, entranced under her gaze. The scent of her perfume, something floral and expensive, wrapped around you, turning your head hazy.

“Moppet?” she asked.

“I spent my childhood lost in Beatrix Potter,” you replied.

“And you dismissed Mittens and Tom as names?” she asked.

“She’s much more a Moppet,” you said.

Her tiny paw came out, swiping at her hand, batting her finger away.

“No, Moppet,” you scolded, “we treat people with respect.”

“It’s alright,” she said, taking a reserved stepped back.

“If I don’t teach her now, she’ll be uncontrollable in her adolescence,” you said.

“Yes, teenagers can be difficult,” she agreed.

Moppet gently nudged at your cheek again, stealing your attention. You manoeuvred her from your shoulder, back into your arms. She meowed loudly, her claws digging into your cardigan, getting caught as she struggled. You were patient as you untangled her, listening to her ongoing commentary.

“Can I help you with something today?” you asked the woman when you finally got Moppet free.

You popped her down on the floor. She turned, looking up at you with a grumpy noise, before sauntering off into a more interesting part of the bookshop. Straightening, you forced a smile on your face as you looked up into the face of the towering woman.

“I’ve heard you’re rather good at giving recommendations,” she said into your expectant silence, “I find myself in need of something new. Ideally not about teenagers.”

You considered her a moment, eyes sweeping over her form. It would be so easy to assume she would want something along the lines of a classic, or perhaps poetry. You tilted your head, considering what she’d bought before, where she sometimes lingered in the shop, the references she sometimes dropped.

“I have just the thing,” you said.

You walked off, glancing over your shoulder to find her following you on silent feet. No wonder she kept managing to sneak up on you. She was like a ghost. You thought it wouldn’t be such a horrifying thing to be haunted by her.

Stopping in front of a packed shelf, your eyes roamed over it, searching out the title you wanted. Pushing up onto tiptoes, you tugged one down. You held it for a moment before passing it over to her. Her eyes stayed on you for a moment before they dragged down to the book now in her hands.

“Rebecca?” she asked.

“If you haven’t already read it,” you replied, “I think you’ll quite like it.”

“I’m sure I’ll find it wonderful,” she said with a smile for you.

She returned about a week after, finding you staring up at a tall shelf, hands on your hips, less than pleased. A small face was peeking over the edge, green eyes and whiskers looking surprisingly smug for a feline face.

“No, you can’t stay up there,” you said.

A small disinterested meow.

“I know you like it up there, Moppet, but it’s not safe,” you said in reply.

A long yawn showed you the contempt she felt towards you. You sighed, doing your best not to get frustrated. You could go and find a ladder, but then you might lose her again. She’d wander off and enjoy the game of hide and seek she was forcing you into you.

“You appear to be in a bit of a predicament.”

“She’s playing with me, the little troublemaker,” you said, not bothering to turn around. The bell had been warning enough.

“Do you want some help?” your mystery woman asked.

“Would you mind? You might have an actual chance of reaching her,” you said.

She stepped up to your shoulder, waiting for you to get off the step stool. You watched her ascend, trying not to ogle her like a creep but not quite managing it. Shapely calves led up to the curve of her hips, making your mouth grow dry as you gazed upon her.

“Come on, little one,” she murmured.

A small yowl came from the shadows atop the shelf. She muttered under her breath and then a displease face was dragged over the edge. In gentle arms, she carried your troublemaker back down to you. Her bare fingers were gently stroking along her spine, her gloves not present for the first time since you’d seen her.

“Safe and sound,” she said, looking to you with a wide smile.

“Thanks,” you said.

You took the kitten back from her, ignoring the grumpy look she gave you as you took her from her comfortable lounging position in the woman’s arms. Your hand brushed over hers, soft skin warm against yours. Your heart flipped over itself at the feeling.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said to Moppet, “I warned you.”

Her claws dug in to your forearm as she tried to rearrange herself into a more comfortable position. She rolled until her stomach was facing you, green eyes staring at you unblinking. You scratched her tummy, waiting for her to clamp onto your skin.

“She does seem to enjoy getting into trouble, doesn’t she,” the woman said, snatching your attention back.

“You should have seen her last night. She got into the bath after I’d drained it, then shouted until I came to investigate and made me think she was stuck, then just calmly hopped out and wandered off like I was being ridiculous,” you said, “she likes making me worry.”

“But she’s rather sweet,” she said, stepping into your personal space to offer more pats to your cat.

“Oh, the sweetest. She can get away with anything,” you agreed.

The two of you took a moment to stare into the yawning face of Moppet. She really had stolen your heart. When you looked back to her, she was smiling down at your cat, eyes sparkling, looking just as under her spell as you were.

“Sorry to hijack your browsing,” you said, that sense of shame from taking her attention for yourself burning in your bloodstream.

“I was actually looking for you,” she said, not realising the pulse of pleasure that gave you, “I’m in need of another recommendation. You did so wonderfully last time.”

You’d never thought of yourself as someone who enjoyed being praised but on her lips it sounded so good. You wanted to keep giving her reason to bestow more upon you.

“I know just the thing.”

You didn’t have to go far to get the book you were thinking of. Juggling the cat in your arms with the book you crouched to find, you managed to drop a kiss on the top of her head before releasing her to find more trouble to get in. Standing, you passed the book over to her, purposefully brushing your fingers against hers.

“I know it’s been made into a movie, but the book offers up something more,” you said.

“I’m unfamiliar with the movie,” she said.

“Not a fan of Tom Hiddleston?”

She raised an eyebrow at you and you tried your best not to read too much into it. It would be so easy to read too much into it. Maybe it wouldn’t be too much, if the way she was looking at you spoke to something more.

“Well, anyway,” you said, turning away from her to keep from doing something silly, “I hope it pleases you.”

“I’m sure it will,” she said.

When she turned away from the counter a few minutes later, a couple of your regulars stepped past her, giving her a wide berth. Trying not to show how strange you found their behaviour, you busied yourself straightening the display next to the counter.

“They shouldn’t let them around the rest of us,” one of the women said, uncaring of you listening in.

“They should be left up in that school to rot,” the other said, “they’re a danger to us all.”

“Outcasts have no business bringing their trouble to us,” the first said, before turning to you, “don’t you agree?”

You realised they were talking about your favourite customer. Who must be a teacher from Nevermore. Making her an outcast.

“I’ve never had any issue with them,” you replied evenly.

They both sniffed, turning away from you. You weren’t about to openly insult a portion of your customer base. That would clear out your shop quick smart.

You hadn’t realised she’s still been there to hear your response until the next week when she returned. Moppet was curled up in her basket by the window and you were going around watering the plants while you had a moment of peace. It was quiet in the shop, nothing but the soft sounds of music playing over the speakers and you moving through the stacks.

The bell above the front door rang and you smiled to yourself. You waited a few moments before turning, finding her watching you with an unreadable expression on her face at the end of the stack. You placed the watering can down, turning an expectant look on her. Only then the silence continued to stretch.

“You’ve returned,” you said when it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything.

“I have,” she said.

“Did you enjoy Crimson Peak?” you asked.

“It was certainly atmospheric,” she replied.

“I suppose you’re looking for another recommendation?” you asked.

“I am,” she said.

“Nothing set in a boarding school right?”

You laughed. She didn’t. The moment stretched on and on, settling into an uncomfortable silence.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

“I’m unused to people choosing to side with us in this town,” she said, her expression still unreadable to you.

“You heard that conversation,” you said. It wasn’t a question. You didn’t need to ask. It was obvious she had.

“If you’d rather, I can return to buying my books online,” she said.

“Why?” you asked, so taken aback by the turn the conversation had taken.

“I understand that normies are wary around outcasts,” she said, “this town has been… there have been issues between the school and the town.”

“I don’t want you to stop shopping here,” you said.

“You don’t care I’m from Nevermore?” she asked.

“Even teachers have to buy books. Why would your place of work matter?” you replied, shooting her a smile to let her know that of course it didn’t matter to you.

“I suppose it doesn’t,” she replied slowly, “although, in the name of honesty, I’m the principal, not a teacher.”

So this was Larissa Weems. You’d heard whispers of her around town, but hadn’t thought you’d met the woman yourself. Keeping away from some of the larger town gatherings had left her more of a machiavellian figure looming over the town from her place in the school.

Turns out, the rumours were completely overblown and they’d hidden the goddess you’d been finding yourself enchanted by more and more with ever encounter.

“Even better,” you said, “so, a new book recommendation?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

You graced her with a wide smile. You’d been thinking about it all week, the next book you’d recommend her. It was a bit of a risk, but you wanted to gauge her reaction to it.

“How familiar are you with early vampire fiction?” you asked, leading her off to your classics section.

“I’ve dabbled in Dracula,” she replied evenly.

“Anything else?”

“I’m afraid not,” she said and you found yourself pressing your lips together to keep from smiling too widely.

“I’ll be interested to hear your thoughts on this one,” you said, “especially since I’ve never met a vampire before. It’s probably completely inaccurate but writers take all kinds of liberties.”

She hummed but didn’t give you much more than that. You paused in front of the right shelf, a shiver of apprehension going through you. It might be a bad idea, giving her the book you were thinking of.

You reached up on tip toes, your fingers just brushing the spine of the book you wanted. You glanced to the side, looking for one of your trust step stools. A warm presence stepped up to your shoulder and you felt your cheeks heat as she reached up, over your head, pulling down the book you’d tried to grasp. She was so close, practically caging you against the shelves. She paused a moment, that intense gaze sweeping down to you. The moment spun out like sugar, delicate and sweet, leaving you breathless.

“Was the the one you were looking for?” she asked, voice soft, almost intimate.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, “that’s the one.”

She took a step back, the book clutched in her hand. Glancing down, her eyebrows drew together and you wanted to know what she was thinking so desperately it was like a physical weight sitting on your chest.

“Carmilla?” she asked, looking back to you.

“One of the original vampire stories,” you said, “I know it’s not the longest but-“

“No, that will do nicely. I have a rather busy week coming up,” she said.

“I’m glad to help,” you said.

She lingered another moment and you weren’t sure what to say to her. The shop was quiet and it felt as if you were inhabiting a bubble of time with her that was seperate from the rest of reality.

“I’m unused to being shown such kindness from people like you,” she said.

“Bookshop owners?” you asked, “cat moms?”

Her smile was indulgent. It made your heart do a backflip and you realised maybe you could spend forever in that aisle with her.

“You can’t help how you’re born,” you said.

“Not everyone is as kind as you,” she said, looking down, refusing to meet your eye.

“They’re idiots,” you said, “your teenagers are no more a danger to us than Derrick who keeps setting fires.”

“I don’t scare you?” she asked, looking at you from under lowered lashes.

She did, but not in the way she was thinking. Just in the normal way that a beautiful woman giving you the time of day scared you. But you figured saying that out loud would be more embarrassing than you could handle at that time.

“No,” you said.

“Not even a little bit?” she asked.

“You’ve been nothing but pleasant to me so unless you’re about to threaten me, I think we’re good,” you said.

She took a step towards you and without thought you took one back. Your spine hit the shelves behind you and your mouth fell open as she crowded you against it. Her perfume surrounded you, her warmth curling around you, leaving you a mess as you stared up into her face. Her lips pulled up into a smirk, temptation never looking better.

“You don’t feel the least bit intimidated?” she whispered.

Her hand rested on the shelf by your head, effectively keeping you caged. Your heart beat hard in your chest and you were sure she could hear it. Her smirk deepened and you found yourself without words. You shook your head. There was no feeling of intimidation, but by god was there something. Something hot and throbbing and desperate.

Cold air hit you and it took a moment for you to realise she’d backed off, leaving you leaning on the shelves while you tried to get your knees to work again. Her face had returned to the unreadable expression and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. You tugged on your cardigan, wrapping it around your body like armour to save your vulnerable heart. You were worried it was on display for her, easy to see exactly how you were feeling.

“Did you want anything else?” you asked, not realising how it might sound until her eyebrow rose. Your cheeks heated and you looked down at your feet, your weight shifting from foot to foot.

“I think that’s all for today,” she answered, kindly not mentioning any of your odd behaviour from the last few minutes.

“I’ll just, uh, ring you up then,” you said, cheeks aflame, not able to look at her.

If you did, you might get lost in the thought of how close she’d been, the brush of her body so close, the feeling of her surrounding you. It would be too much for your poor heart, leaving it to beat right out of your chest. You did your best to ignore it as she paid and left your store for the overcast sky outside.

You didn’t see her again for a few weeks after that. The unhelpful voice in the back your head told you it was because she was completely disgusted by you. Between your behaviour and the recommendation you’d given, it wouldn’t have shocked you if you’d driven her from your store entirely. It left you in a funk, one deep enough for your usual customers to take note.

The free teas and baked goods from the Weathervane were appreciated throughout the days as you waited with bated breath to see if she’d come back.

It was on a day, weeks later, the night closing in on you as Halloween approached, once you’d given up all hope on seeing her again that the bell above your door jingled, a cold wind nipping at the heels of your customer. The lamps had been lit, a soft glow giving life to your store against the encroaching darkness. You sighed to yourself, wanting to lock up and wander upstairs, curling under a blanket with a book in hand to forget how quickly you ruined something that had been filled with such hope.

“I was worried you would be closed already.”

That voice, familiar, haunting your dreams, sweet enough to make your heart trip over itself. You spun, almost stumbling over your own feet, desperate to lay eyes on her and make sure it wasn’t an awful hallucination sent to torture you. Larissa stood in front of the counter, her smile slipping as your wide eyes met hers.

“I didn’t think you were coming back,” you said.

“I’ve been… busy,” she replied.

There was a weariness to her you hadn’t seen before, like a weight had settled on her shoulders and she hadn’t yet grown accustomed to it. Your hands pressed into the cool wood of the counter, fingers splayed as you tried to remain cool. And yet your heart was racing.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “just the usual difficulties of being responsible for a school full of teenagers.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said.

“With an iron fist.”

Her weary smile lit you up from the inside out. You circled the counter, placing yourself firmly on the same side as her, wanting to be closer. Her eyes followed every step, brightening the closer you drew.

“I was just about to close up,” you said.

She wilted before your very eyes.

“My apologies. I’ll leave,” she said.

“No!” Your voice came out too loud, “I just meant, I could lock up and I could make you some tea. If you wanted. Not that I’m suggesting that that is something you want. But in case it is, I could.”

She chuckled, throaty and low, and a shiver went through your body. Your rambling was hardly the cool suave exterior you’d wanted her to see but you couldn’t help yourself. Around her you seemed to lose all sense of chill and instead turned into a mess of a person.

“I’d love that,” she said.

“Oh.” You perked up, “uh, wait here. I’ll go… close up shop.”

You left her there as you made your way to the front door. Flipping the sign and turning the lock, you looked out on the darkened street. The weather had turned, dark clouds rolling in, covering the moon until there was nothing but darkness pressing in against the window. You shivered, glad you weren’t out in the weather.

She was where you’d left her, inspecting the display of bookmarks you had on the counter. A woman in town made them, beautiful beaded monstrosities to keep your page. Her fingers idly played with one, purple beads contrasting with her pale skin.

“I’ll throw that in for free with your next purchase,” you said, “I have to reward my loyal customers.”

She offered you a small smile, letting the bookmark go.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said.

“Shall we have that tea?”

You led her over to the two armchairs set up for customers to sit in. The antique lamp was on, giving a warm circle of light.

“Um, I’m just going to go boil the water. Do you have a preference on tea type? Peppermint?” you asked.

“Peppermint sounds lovely,” she said.

You took the time for the water to boil in the backroom to try and calm down. It was normal. It was a cup of tea. Nothing to get worked up over. Just the woman you’d been enamoured with taking time out of her day to share a cup of tea with you. There was no need to make it into any more than it was.

You could be cool.

She was sitting in one of the armchairs, elegant in a way you’d never managed. You tried to keep the tremor from your hand as you passed over the cup. Her fingers brushed yours, gloveless again despite the chill of outside. Not that it was cold in your shop. You always made sure it was comfortable inside your four walls.

“What did you think of the book?” you asked as you settled in your own chair, legs curling up underneath you.

“It was certainly an interested read,” she said.

“Did you not like it?” you asked.

She looked at you a moment, those eyes seeing more than you wanted them to. You looked down into your cup, not wanting her to see how much the answer meant to you.

“I did. I found the relationship written between an outcast and a normie fascinating,” she said, slow, careful, as if putting a lot of thought into each word, “but then, I suppose given the time period, a relationship between two women could have been just as shocking.”

“I think it was ahead of its time,” you said.

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“Because neither of those things matter.”

The way she was looking at you had any more words dying on your lips. It wasn’t that you’d surprised her, more that you’d confirmed something for her. Like you’d shown her a piece of the puzzle she knew you held. Like you were exactly who she thought you were.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” she asked, but you weren’t sure it was actually a question.

“Of course,” you replied.

She nodded, taking a sip from her cup. You followed suit, not sure what to fill the silence with.

“I was curious about your reasoning for suggesting this book to me,” she said when it became clear you had nothing else to say.

“I suppose… I wanted to see your reaction to it,” you admitted.

You looked up at her from under your lowered lashes, hoping to be able to read her expression this time. A look passed over her face, one that spoke of surprise mixed with smugness, not something you were used to seeing.

“I see,” she said.

“Do you?” you asked.

“I think I do,” she replied, “you wanted to see how I’d respond to a sapphic love story between an outcast and a normie.”

A spike of hope went through your heart.

“And how do you respond?” you asked.

“Rather favourably.”

Your fingers convulsively curled around the mug in your hand, the warmth from the ceramic seeping into your bones. Something in her gaze sparked fire in your veins and you felt breathless. She placed her cup down, the noise louder than it shouldn’t have been in the space.

“The first time I walked into this quaint little store, I thought you were the most precious thing in here,” she said, “it’s what kept me coming back. Although, I must say, there is something in the atmosphere of this place that evokes comfort.”

“I thought you were glorious,” you said, not considering the words before they left your lips.

“You did?” Her entire face lit up.

You nodded, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something else, a loud bang came from the front of your shop. You jumped, hot liquid spilling over the skin of your hand. You hissed, placing the mug down before you could properly burn yourself.

She was there in an instant, reaching out for your hand, her fingers soft as they brushed over your skin. You tried to suppress a shiver. She tugged on your hand until you’d risen to your feet, hand closer to her face as she bent over it.

“I’m okay,” you said, “it was more the shock than anything else.”

“You’re not hurt?” Those blue eyes were so close.

“No.” You shook your head.

Her hand didn’t leave yours, the feel of her skin against yours making your head hazy. Even from so close up, she was still easily the most beautiful woman you’d seen and you yearned to close the small distance. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip again and you saw her gaze drag down to it. Your breath caught, the moment suspended in time as you waited to see what she would do.

“May I…”

The rest of her question never materialised. She was still watching your mouth and so you made the decision for her. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, your fingers tightening around hers, you pressed your lips to hers. She made a small noise and before you could pull away her other arm had curled around your waist, keeping you close to her.

You moaned into her mouth as she kissed you back more insistently. You curled your arms around her neck, your body flush with hers. The fire in your veins was igniting, lighting you up from the inside, threatening to burn you up. Her tongue swept into your mouth, her hands on your body leaving you a trembling mess.

Her hands found their way under your cardigan, palms warm through the thin material of your shirt. You couldn’t get close enough, wanting to feel every inch of her. She groaned into your mouth when you nipped at her lower lip.

A displease meow broke through the haze as something soft brushed against your ankle. You jerked back before chuckling at the indignant face glaring up at you. Moppet was making her feelings known in the only way she knew how.

“Sorry,” you said to her, “it’s getting close to someone’s dinner time.”

She chuckled and there was a sense of fondness in it that had your heart tripping over itself. Her fingers came up, brushing over the apple of your cheek before giving a soft tug on the end of your hair.

“I think your chaperone has the right idea. It’s gotten later than I intended and I’m sure I’m needed back at Nevermore,” she said.

You didn’t bother to hide your disappointment. She chuckled again, leaning forward to press her lips to yours in a chaste kiss. Her thumb ran along your lower lip, coming away stained red from where her lipstick had smudged against your skin. You nipped at the pad of her thumb as she drew it back, earning another smile from her.

“I’ll walk you out,” you said.

“Such chivalry,” she said and you were beginning to recognise when she was teasing.

You led her mack to the front door, flicking the lock to release her into the wind and the darkness. You wrinkled your nose at the large tree branch that had landed outside your door. She lingered, right on the threshold, and you found yourself gazing upon her.

“Tonight has been lovely,” she said.

“It has,” you agreed.

Her fingers under your chin, lifting for just a moment before she stepped out into the street. Your fingers clutched at the doorframe, knuckles aching with the cold and the tension.

“Wait.” She paused, turning to look at you over her shoulder, “you didn’t get a new book.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to come back tomorrow, then,” she said before striding away into the night.

Moppet meowed by your feet again. You sighed, closing the door and locking it against the encroaching night. Crouching, you lifted her into your arms, giving her a scratch behind the ear.

“I know, Moppet,” you said when she gave another little meow, “I’m so fucked.”

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems imagine

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plussizefantasia · 1 year ago

Text

Unsure Hearts

Read Part One Here: Fluttering Hearts

Warnings: Reader gets grabbed, alcohol, I think that's it tbh

an: heyyyy... sorry I was MIA, lots of stuff going on I'll post an update about it soon. In the meantime enjoy part two of the Kili x reader fic from Flufftober. I think this will be a five-part fic including an epilogue and the next two parts are already underway. I've also got some requests ready to be edited and posted soon. Thank you for bearing with me, much love <3

Kili Durin x Human!Soulmate!reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Thorin was getting worried, Kili had become somewhat of a ghost story over the past month. He had assumed that his nephew was simply doing his duty. Kili had volunteered to be the envoy between Dale and Erebor for the discussions of armament and training. However, that treaty was signed a week ago, and said envoy position was no longer needed. So why in all of Arda was Kili still going to Dale every day? The young prince left as soon as he was finished with his daily tasks and didn’t return to the mountain until well after the sun had set. Thorin was not worried for his nephew's safety, after all, Kili was an excellent warrior and could take care of himself, no, Thorin was worried for Kili’s heart.

Fili had also noticed his brother’s absence but the blonde prince had always been a bit more perceptive than his surly uncle. Fili had noticed that Kili was missing, but he also noticed that every time he returned to the mountain it was with the most dopey grin that he had ever seen. A grin that he recognized, for it had also graced his face a few months ago when he met his beloved Alma. Fili would bet his beard on it, Kili was in love.

You on the other hand were getting more and more annoyed each time the brown-haired dwarf walked through the front door. He was charming sure, and polite. But he stared. At you. The whole time he was there. And he was there a lot. His attempts to engage you in conversation were far and few between, the few times he was able to grab your attention away from the bustling building he became tongue-tied the moment your eyes landed on his.

Kili didn’t understand why he couldn’t say more than a few words to you without choking on his words. Your eyes had to hold some kind of spell within them. They enchanted him and left him bewitched every time he caught their gaze. It left him frustrated, he had never had this much trouble with women before, why were you so different? Deep down he knew though, you weren’t just any woman. He was afraid though, afraid that naming what you were to him out loud would make it real. And when it is real, it can hurt you.

There weren’t very many stories on One’s where the love didn’t end up requited, either because it just simply never happened. Dwarves were incredibly stubborn creatures after all, and it was entirely possible that they just wore down their other half until some sort of connection formed. It was also possible that those unfortunate few who weren’t able to woo their other half died of broken hearts. The former was unlikely as Kili kept having to remind himself, he couldn’t die of a broken heart. Right?

He was determined tonight though, to find out definitively if the sparks he felt for you were just interest in the handsome woman from Bree, or if you truly were the other half of his soul. To do that though he would need to say more than a few words to you. The problem with that was that you seemed exceptionally busy tonight.

Busy you were, Brant had told you last night that he was going to be leaving today to go to visit family for some type of emergency.

“If the place is still standing when I get back, we’ll talk more about it becoming yours someday.” He had said. You were hoping that that ‘someday’ was sooner rather than later. Brant was getting up there in years. Just last week he had hurt himself trying to lift one of the barrels of ale that had been shipped in from the Iron Hills. You had been taking on more and more of his old tasks and to be completely honest, it felt like you did the job of an owner anyway, just without all the benefits.

You weren’t going to let the man down though, even if it did mean rushing back and forth all night trying to keep up with demand all by yourself.

“Another! Y/N,” was yelled in front the back of the room. Roland was a boisterous man who got along with everyone, he was only a year or two older than you and was currently on his eighth pint of the night. He had a large countenance and seemed to fill up whatever space he occupied, he was handsome but the more and more he drank the less his looks mattered. Usually, this is the point in the night where he starts bordering more on unruly rather than fun-loving. Nevertheless, he was a paying customer and as long as he could still walk on his own out the doors, you weren’t going to say no to his money.

You grabbed another pint glass and poured one for him, balancing it and several other drinks on a tray. You steeled yourself with a deep breath before running back out into the fray.

Walking close to the stool he was sat on you leaned slightly over him and placed his pint down on the counter beside him. He was engrossed in the conversation between the large group of men, something about the best way to skin a buck, you weren’t really listening. As you grabbed his empty glass to take back to the kitchen to be washed, his large hand encircled your wrist none too gently.

“A pint is a wonderful thing, but it is even more delicious when served by a beautiful lady,” He whispered into your ear. You grit your teeth and roughly pull your hand back.

“Now, Roland, what have we said about touching things that don’t belong to you? Huh? Touch the wrong thing and you might just lose your hand.” You spit back at him. Cutting your eyes up at the mounted swords that rest above the fireplace only a few steps from where the two of you are. “I’d hate to have to clean those swords, they are sharp.” You look back into his eyes, satisfied with the fear that you see within them. You stand back up and place your tray back upon your shoulder.

“Anything else I can get you gents?” You question the other men scattered about the space. Silence reigned over the air for a few moments.

“Alrighty then.”

A pint here, a glass of wine there, and two hot meals delivered later, your tray was empty and everyone in the place seemed momentarily satisfied.

Letting out a breath you lean up against the counter.

“What did you say to him?” A somewhat familiar voice pipes up beside you. You turn your head towards the voice. It's the dwarf prince, and you are once again struck with just how handsome he is. You are also struck with the familiar feeling of annoyance, of course, he picked now to talk to you. Just when you had finally afforded yourself a break.

“Hmm?” You raise a singular eyebrow at him. “Who?”

“That large and very drunk man in the back, I couldn’t hear what you said but I could see the look on his face. It was similar to my brother’s when our mother would scold him for forgetting his manners.”

“That’s not too far off actually, Roland over there got a little too comfortable and touched something that didn’t belong to him, I had to remind him of the rules.”

“And what exactly did he touch that was so forbidden?” The prince smirks and laughs.

You smirk back and lift a glass to your lips before uttering one single word, “Me.”

All of the laughter drained from Kili’s face, “He touched you?” His voice had gotten much lower, his eyes darkened right before you.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to stop you right there Your Highness, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years. I don’t need some man, no matter how handsome he is coming to defend my honor every time I’m even remotely slighted. The trail of bodies will get far too long.” You stare into his eyes as you speak, putting all the righteous fury you’ve got stored inside into each word.

Seconds tick by before he opens his mouth to speak again.

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I think that we have bigger problems if that is the only thing you got from that.” You took another sip.

“No, no, no I got the point, you don’t need a big strong man to come to your rescue. Lucky for you, I am not big.”

The laugh that sprung from the back of your throat caught you off guard, you slap a hand over your mouth in an impossible effort to catch it and shove it back inside. He was funny, he had never been funny before.

Kili liked your laugh even though it was closer to a snort than an actual laugh, and he would be foolish to ignore the way his heart picked up at the thought that he was the one who made you laugh.

“You- I- I have never heard of a dwarf who makes fun of themselves, in my limited experience your lot are very prideful.”

“Not as prideful as some other races, I should think.”

“No, you’re not nearly as prideful as the pointy-eared bastards who hole themselves up in that accursed forest.” Your words held a healthy amount of rage as well as teasing.

“I sense that there is a story there somewhere.” Kili raised an eyebrow, mimicking your face from earlier. He was desperately trying not to think about the fact that this was the longest conversation the two of you had had up to date.

“One that I’m going to need a lot more liquid courage before divulging, I’m afraid.”

“We can make that happen.” Kili wiggled his eyebrows and pointed at the bottles of liquor behind the bar that separated the two of you.

At that very moment, a shout from the rowdy bunch of men in the back rang out, calling for another round.

“Duty calls your highness, but perhaps I will tell you that story… another time.” You winked at him and grabbed for your tray again, beginning to load it up once more. If that is how conversations with the dwarf prince went all the time, you wouldn’t mind having them more often.

You walked away before Kili could come up with a response, but he was more certain than he ever had been that your heart called to his. Why else would the very sight of you walking away feel like his heart was leaving too?

Read Part 3 here: Troubled Hearts

tags: @bunnybabe-babydoll @kokochanel111 @shiinata-library @oneiratxxia10

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denv2 · 4 months ago

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felix collection🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

This week I only drew Felix!!!

While drawing Felix as a college student, I had a major case of "did they have hoods in this era?" but decided to let it go lol.

I like his zany moment.... I'm going to draw more pictures about this... His unwillingness to go back to zany touched my heart so much.

Below are the stories behind each of the pictures! (long)

First, a trio of smiling faces!

As you can see, it's an early Bendy costume, and I chose it on purpose.

I actually drew Bendy and Boris' faces first, and it's not like Bendy at this point in time, it's a little bit younger, and I like how they both have this really innocent, bright smile on their faces, so it's kind of like the first two kids before they get more serious as the story progresses. Felix... I think it's the same way I've always drawn him, but I think he looks a little bit fuller, lol.

Second, osix.

I actually just drew this.

The trio above was also drawn today, but this one was drawn right before I went to bed.

I just... I wanted to do one more painting and I was thinking about what to do, and I wanted to do Felix and Oswald, and then I realized that they're leaning against something, and then I put Oswald to bed.

Actually, I wanted to draw 'Felix is reading to the Bunny Kids and Oswald is watching' < I wanted to draw this one too, but I was drawn to something simple right now. I think I'll do this one later.

Third, college students Felix and Professor Wilson.

I love the feel of this drawing! I've been thinking about Felix's past lately, and it reminded me a bit of this time, so I really wanted to draw the two of them.

I love the relationship between a teacher and a pupil, and Professor Wilson is kind of like a mentor to Felix. They go to archaeological sites together and share research and expeditions, and it's nice to think about that...

I looked at Wilson's outfit at that time, and it was mentioned that he wore a tie, so I gave him a tie, and I added some eye wrinkles to his face to give him a more 'professor' look, and I think he looks like a kind professor. I think it's okay.

Felix. I wanted to make him look like a college student, so I put a hoodie on him, but when I was done, I realized that the hoodie... I realized it was when the hood didn't come out... but I had already drawn it. And I like the feeling of Felix in a hoodie, so it's a classic error, but please overlook it lol.

Fourth, zany-related Felix.

Actually, this was the first thing I drew. I've been drawing Felix all week, and this was the first thing I did.

This is a drawing of a scene from Chapter 172! I love the description of Felix after he uses his gag ability... I love it. It really stuck in my head...

The description of the shadow holding his stomach and laughing reminded me of one of Felix's trademark poses, where he grabs his stomach, leans back, and laughs. I couldn't resist drawing this.

I love the way he's wary of going back to zany... I think I'll be doing more zany-related Felix drawings for a while.

Actually, there's a story behind this one, I drew it without the hat, and then two days later I realized I needed to add the hat, so I revised it lol. I really, really like that hat on Felix, but it's so annoying when I try to draw it and I forget about it 🤣 It's hard to draw.

Finally, Felix and Alex.

Yeah... I really like the feel of this one. I kept staring at it after I finished it...

I love drawing Felix being angry, but he's not just angry. I feel like that image of him being angry and hateful with very complicated feelings is embedded in my head, and I like the feeling of Alex provoking him like that.

Personally, I think it's their facial expressions and the attitude of Alex's hands.

Let me start with Alex, his eyes... I really like how they came out, I just like the feel of them, and I like the mouth! It's a little bit more smirky than the last Alex, but I think it's more in line with how he's portrayed, and he's zany, so I wanted to give him a zany crazy moment. I love the way he's being pushed around by Felix and he's just laughing and relaxed and holding up his hands with his fingertips outstretched. I keep drawing Alex with his eyelids down. I feel like it's more fitting for him.

As for Felix... I think the way he's hunched over and the way he's frowning and glaring at Alex who's smiling is a nice balance. His mouth is a sharper curve instead of just a straight line. His expression towards Alex last time was definitely disdainful, but this time it's angry and more... It's more complex, and I like that.

Lastly, I want to talk about the side view, because I'm not good at side views... But this time, I tried to draw a side view, and luckily, I found the right proportions, so I think I managed to draw it somehow lol. I drew the tip of their eyes to stick out a little bit, but I drew this part while thinking about the original Felix side view and the depiction of the side sticking out, and then I remembered that Sonic fan art also drew this eye part to stick out a little bit. So I think I'll keep that for Felix's side view. The next thing was the ears, and I liked the way the two characters' ears were pointing towards each other lol.

At this point, Alex and Felix are drawn to have some differences in appearance. Felix's fur is more coarse, so it's longer, sharper, and hanging down, unlike Alex's, which is more groomed. Alex is well groomed and has a nicely trimmed back end that sits smoothly on top! You can get a better idea of this by comparing Felix's star picture. I deliberately made the back of Star Felix's hair a little shorter and higher up than it was before, so that it would be similar to Alex's hairstyle now (although Alex actually copied Felix's hairstyle back then).

It's funny... I've been drawing really hard this week lol. I don't know how long I'll keep this up. For those of you who have made it this far, I hope you enjoyed the chat. I always talk like this because... Because I'm bored, but mostly because I'm going to read it again later... Where else can I read about IM Felix... 🥺

#quest felix #felix the cat #alex the cat #quest bendy #quest boris #quest oswald #osix #babitim #the inky mystery #inky mystery #bendy and boris in the inky mystery #babtqftim

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coolemmasulivan2 · 6 months ago

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Rewinding Us | 4

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

Summary: You and Mason built a love story over five years, but after an accident, your memories are wiped away, including any feelings for your constant bickering "rival". Can you remember your love story with Mason, or will you have to start all over?

Word count: 2523

YYou can read more chapters here.

You are the only one I'll ever love Looking back on my life You're the only good I've ever done (ever done) Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone (anyone) Not anyone

The weather in Manchester was unpredictable, providing you with both happiness and annoyance. When you longed for the chill of winter, the sun would shine and when you craved a dose of vitamin D, the sky would unleash an amount absurd of rain. Today was no exception. It was August and it felt like nature was teasing your wish for some sunshine.

You returned home after a long day at work, packed with groceries for dinner. It had been a week since you'd returned to Manchester, and tonight, you were finally going to see Mason again. He had a reason to visit, something to pick up from the house and since you were aware of everything, he'd simply asked instead of sneaking in when you weren't home.

Since your last encounter, Mason had encouraged you to reach out whenever you had questions about your shared history. True to his word, you had bombarded him with texts, curious about the memories that were slowly coming back to you. The most recent memory had occurred at three in the morning when you dreamed about a dog.

You: Did we had a dog?

Mason was fast asleep when his phone buzzed, the sound jolting him awake. Without moving his face, he reached out and grabbed the phone, his fingers fumbling in the darkness. As he saw your name on the screen, his heart skipped a beat. Worry gnawed at him as he unlocked the phone, fearing the worst.

When he read your question, his relief turned into a mix of amusement.

"She's going to kill me!" He muttered, sinking back into the pillow.

He quickly typed out a reply, attaching a photo of Ace.

Mason: We still do! His name is Ace.

The photo showed Ace sitting beside you by the pool, your smile bright and infectious. Seeing the image, you couldn't help but smile.

That night, you bombarded Mason with questions about Ace, your curiosity insatiable. Later that day, when you turned on the TV and saw him preparing for a match, you let out a curse. You'd completely forgotten about his game. He'd stayed up late, answering your endless questions, when he should have been resting.

Today, knowing Mason was coming over, you asked if he could bring Ace and without even realizing it, you ended up inviting him to dinner. It wasn't a romantic dinner, you kept reminding yourself. Just 'friends' having a meal.

Since the kiss you exchanged in the car, you couldn't stop thinking about him. The constant texting wasn't helping. One moment, you'd despise him, and the next, you'd be imagining what lay beneath his clothes.

Cooking had always been your therapy, you were always good at it, so that wasn't the problem. What made you nervous was not knowing what to wear. A dress? You were at home. It wasn't a date. Why did it matter?

"Just wear something casual but nice." Your friend and coworker, Dianne, said over FaceTime. "Like a blouse or a nice shirt. I mean, Mason would probably love you even if you were wearing a potato sack."

You threw the long summer dress you were holding onto the bed. "You're not helping." You muttered.

"I'm just telling you the truth." She insisted. "That man is so head over heels for you, he wouldn't notice if someone else was in the room."

A blush crept across your face. It was nice to hear those kinds of things, to know you were loved and appreciated. Your past relationships had been a series of disappointments, but with Mason, it seemed different.

"Since we came back, I can't stop thinking about him." You admitted, running your hands through your hair. "It's like… something clicked when he told me we used to date. Sometimes I want to punch his stupid face but at the same time I…"

"At the same time, you want to jump on him." Your friend finished your thought.

You groaned, falling back onto the bed. "I hate this!" You exclaimed, tossing your phone onto the mattress making Dianne face the ceiling.

"Girl, I've seen your relationship with Mason. You love him, and he loves you. You're that perfect couple who's still in their honeymoon phase, and it's inspiring to watch." She said, her voice filled with admiration. You listened attentively, her words sinking in. "Don't be afraid to approach him." She encouraged you.

You thanked her for her support and ended the call.

Gathering the clothes from the bed, you opted for a pair of nice jeans and a floral tank top. The weather outside was miserable, but inside the house, it was warm and cosy.

The food was in the oven, and you were chopping tomatoes and onions for the salad when the doorbell rang, making you jump. Ace's excited woof echoed outside the house.

Drying your hands, you hurried to the door barefoot, nearly tripping over the rug. Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

A wave of happiness washing over you as you saw Ace running towards you, his tail wagging furiously. He'd missed you, that was clear.

You crouched down, welcoming Ace's enthusiastic jumps and licks. Dogs had always been your favourite, growing up with more than one back in the day when you lived with your parents. You spent a few minutes showering him with affection, your worries - or even Mason - temporarily forgotten.

"Hello, Ace." You said, stroking his soft fur. "You're so pretty, you big goofball." Ace's tail wagged with happiness. His eyes, filled with love and adoration, mirrored your own emotions.

Mason stood behind and watched you interact with Ace, a tender smile playing on his lips. His love for you was evident in his gaze.

"Hi." You managed to squeak out, your voice barely audible.

"Hi." He replied, his voice equally soft.

You stood up, Ace disappearing into the house. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your nerves showing. Mason mirrored your posture, his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

"Come in!" You insisted, opening the door wider.

Mason mumbled a thank you and stepped inside, the familiar scent of home washing over him. "It smells good." He commented as the smell from the kitchen hit him.

You closed the door behind him and smiled. "Thank you. Dinner's almost ready. I was just finishing the salad."

He followed you into the kitchen. "Need help?" He asked.

"No, you can sit." You replied, continuing with the salad as he sat on a stool by the kitchen island. "Thank you for bringing Ace."

Mason watched as Ace wandered around the kitchen, his tail wagging happily. "Why don't I let him stay here and see if you feel the same way after." He suggested a playful glint in his eye. You stopped cutting the onion, your eyes locking with his. "It was a joke, Y/n." He added, sensing your reaction.

"But he can stay!" You persisted, your eyes sparkling. "I love dogs."

Mason chuckled, his heart melting. "He's your dog too." He said. "It's only fair to share custody."

You grinned, looking down at Ace. "Did you hear that, goofball? You're staying with me!" Ace's tail wagged with enthusiasm. Mason couldn't help but smile at the heartwarming interaction.

Mason had placed the salad on the table when the oven timer beeped. You grabbed the oven gloves and started walking towards the oven, but Ace, catching you by surprise, ran between your legs, causing you to lose your balance.

"ACE!" Mason shouted, his voice filled with both irritation and concern. He quickly reached out, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you towards him. Your back pressed against his strong chest and you could feel his warm breath against your ear. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voice laced with worry.

His hand rested on your belly, his warmth seeping through your tank top. For a moment, you felt an overwhelming urge to turn around and kiss him, but you resisted, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm fine." You whispered, your voice barely audible. "Thank you."

You didn't step away, and neither did he. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, a familiar sensation that sent a shiver down your spine. You stood there for a moment, lost in the moment until Ace's loud woof broke the spell.

As Mason stepped away, you felt a pang of disappointment. "Let me help you." He offered, taking the oven gloves from your hands.

He carefully removed the food from the oven and placed it on the table. You both sat down, the aroma of the meal filling the air. Ace sat at your feet, his tail wagging hopefully.

The dinner passed in a blur, the awkwardness of the beginning replaced by a comfortable ease. Mason's ability to make you laugh was infectious, and before you knew it, hours had flown by.

As you cleaned up the rest of the kitchen, Mason reminded you of the time. "It's getting late." He said, glancing at the clock. "I guess I should go get my things." You nodded, a pang of disappointment settling in. He dried his hands on the kitchen cloth after helping you and then disappeared upstairs.

You didn't want him to leave. The thought of staying alone in the big house again made you feel unsettled. Having him by your side felt comforting and familiar, and you didn't want that to change.

Ace, curled up on the living room rug, looked up at you. "Guess it's just you and me, goofball." You said, playing with his fur.

A chill had settled in the air, and you shivered involuntarily, so you grabbed the blue Nike hoodie you had left in the bathroom and you pulled it on.

As you sat down on the sofa, Ace eagerly joined you, his head resting on your lap. You turned on the TV, the soft glow illuminating the room.

Mason's footsteps sounded from the hallway. "Y/n?" he called out.

"In the living room." You replied.

"Have you seen a blue hoo--?" He stopped when he saw you wearing the hoodie he was looking for.

You shifted uncomfortably. "Is it your hoodie?" You asked him, realizing why the hoodie was so big on you. "Sorry, I didn't know." You grabbed the ends, ready to take it off, but Mason quickly stopped you.

"It's fine." He said, a playful glint in his eye. "It looks better on you anyway."

You blushed, feeling a warmth spread through your cheeks. "But you wanted it."

"It's fine. I have plenty." He insisted.

"But--"

"Y/n--"

"You can hav--"

"It was an excuse!" He said and you looked at him.

"What?"

Mason ran his hand through his hair. "I found what I was looking for yesterday in one of my suitcases, but you had already invited me over, so, my excuse was going to be the blue hoodie… You have on."

"Oh." You looked at him as he looked down in embarrassment.

"The things I do just to be with you." He whispered. He let out a shy chuckle and you gave him a smile. "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. I get it. This was your life for five years and I took it from you."

Mason shook his head. "You didn't! The man that hit your car did. It's not your fault." You looked at him, not knowing what to say. Mason took your hand and held it tightly. "We didn't do anything wrong."

You looked down at your hand in his, feeling a warmth spread through you. Your eyes met his, and a smile crept across your face. "Do you want to watch a movie? I know it's late, but you can sleep in the guest room," you suggested.

Mason smiled, his gaze lingering on your face. "I'd like to, but I have training tomorrow morning." He replied.

A blush crept across your cheeks. "Oh, yeah, right."

He took a step closer, his hand still holding yours. "But I would like to take you on a date." He said, his eyes filled with sincerity. "If you want, of course."

Your heart skipped a beat. "I-I would like that." You stammered, your voice barely audible.

Mason squeezed your hand. "Good!" He said, a wide smile spreading across his face. "I'll call you." You nodded. He looked down at Ace and petted him. "You're staying with Y/n, buddy! It's your job to protect her, okay?" The dog gave him his paw and you laughed.

"I'll walk you out." You offered.

You followed him toward the front door. "Just to be clear," He started, stopping himself when you opened the door. "I'm asking you out because I love you and I want you back. It doesn't matter if you don't have your memories back. I want you to fall in love with me again, so, I'm going to do whatever it takes for that to happen." He said. You felt like your legs were going to give up as he leaned in and kissed you softly on the cheek. "Good night, Y/n!"

"Good night, Mason!"

You watched Mason's car disappear down the driveway, a wave of sadness washing over you. You closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a sigh.

A few weeks ago, if someone had suggested you would develop feelings for Mason, you would have laughed in their face. The idea had been absurd, but here you were, feeling sad after seeing him leave.

As you sat down on the sofa, Ace joined you once again. "Do you like Mason, goofball?" The dog looked up at you, his ears perking up at the mention of his favourite human and let out a joyful woof. "Me too! Me too!"

Half an hour later, you were lost in thought when the doorbell rang, startling you out of your trance. Standing up, you approached the door and swung it open, your surprise evident as you saw Mason standing on the doorstep.

"Hey, is everything okay? Did you forget something?" You asked, your voice laced with concern.

Mason's gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, a hint of something unsaid lingering in his expression. "I re- I remembered you didn't have Ace's food." He stuttered, his words stumbling over each other.

"Oh." You replied, disappointment washing over you. "You want to take him back!"

"No, no. It's not that." He said quickly, shaking his head. He went back to his car and returned with a bag of dog food.

You watched him, a knowing smile playing on your lips. "You didn't have to." You said, your voice soft.

He shrugged, his cheeks reddening. "I thought it would be nice."

Your heart swelled with warmth. "Thank you, Mason." You looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You're sure you don't want to stay over?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Mason hesitated, his eyes locking with yours. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. "I'll stay." He smiled and said, his voice barely audible.

Relief washed over you, a smile spreading across your face, as you closed the door.

#footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football imagine #footballer x y/n #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount #mm7 #Rewinding Us

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cheynovak · 3 months ago

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Furry Hero

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Summary: A beautiful request from @deanwinchestersgirl8734

That was passed on by @jackles010378 ( Thank you for thinking of me ❤️ )

"Hey I was wondering if you ever thought of writing a dean or Jensen or Sam or Jared story about them meeting someone they like who has a service dog I follow someone online who has a seizure dog and I've never seen anyone write about that"

I hope you like it, it was new for me to write a story like this. So I might made a mistake or two about service dogs but I wanted to shine a light on these everyday heroes as well.

Warnings: None

English is not my first language

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

The musty smell of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights created an almost reverent silence in the small-town library. Sam Winchester pushed open the heavy door with a grin, his brother Daan trailing close behind, looking less than enthusiastic.

"Why do you always pick libraries?" Dean grumbled as they walked in. "What’s wrong with a good ol’ diner? Coffee, pie, real conversations?"

"Because libraries have records," Sam shot back, his long stride quickly overtaking Dean. "And the last thing this case needs is for you to flirt your way into trouble again."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just saying, a little charm goes a long—" He stopped mid-sentence, his attention snapping to a figure seated at a nearby table.

A woman sat with a dog at her feet, flipping through a thick tome with practiced ease. Dean barely registered the woman's features because the dog—a fluffy, caramel-colored Golden Retriever—caught his attention first. Without thinking, Dean dropped into a crouch, extending his hand.

"Who's a good boy?" Dean cooed, the smile on his face rivaling the brightness of the overhead lights.

The dog's ears perked, its intelligent eyes locking onto Dean's hand before the woman—Y/N—cleared her throat. "Um, excuse me." Her tone was polite but firm, tinged with amusement. "He's a service dog. Please don’t pet him while he’s working."

Sam stifled a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean, seriously?"

Dean froze, his hand midway to the dog's head, looking sheepish. "Right. Sorry. Service dog. Got it." He straightened up, brushing off invisible dirt from his jeans. "Guess I got a little excited. It's just… he's so fluffy."

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes flicking between the brothers. "It happens more than you'd think. Most people can’t resist Buddy here."

Sam stepped in, his expression a mix of apology and curiosity. "Sorry about my brother. He's got no impulse control. I'm Sam, and this is Dean."

"Y/N," she replied with a small smile. "So, what brings you guys to this dusty corner of the world?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a quick glance, the unspoken language of years of hunting passing between them. Dean took the lead, his charm dialed back to a respectable level. "We’re looking into some… stuff going on in town. About the missing people, you wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you?"

Y/N frowned, her hand pausing on the page she’d been reading. "I haven’t seen anything myself, but…" She glanced down at Buddy, her expression thoughtful. "A couple of nights ago, Buddy started acting weird while we were walking past that old blue house on Sycamore Street. You know, the one where the girl went missing last week?"

Sam nodded, pulling a small notebook from his jacket. "What do you mean by weird? "

"Growling," Y/N confirmed. "And he wouldn’t go near the property. Buddy’s trained to stay calm, so it really freaked me out. I crossed the street, and even then, he kept his eyes locked on that house until we were out of sight."

Dean leaned against the table, his interest piqued. "Did you notice anything else? Lights on? Strange smells? Anything at all?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, but the air felt… off. Like, ice cold." She hesitated. Dean looked at Sam who just nodded but turned back to Y/N.

"If you’re okay with would you mind letting us know if Buddy picks up on anything else? Dogs are a lot more sensitive to things than people are."

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, who let out a soft huff as if in agreement. "Sure. I was planning to walk by there later today anyway. I can let you know if anything seems off."

"Perfect," Dean said, his grin returning. "In the meantime, you got any more tips for not offending a service dog?"

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Dean's grin widen. "Just don’t call him fluffy again."

Sam started to walk back, Dean gave her his 'FBI' card. "Maybe you eh, could learn me a thing or two in a private talk?" Y/N smiled why don't you walk with us tonight?"

Later That day

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, painting the quiet park in shades of amber and gold. Y/N stood near the entrance, Buddy’s leash wrapped loosely around her hand as she scanned the area. Her heart fluttered slightly when she spotted Dean strolling toward her, his leather jacket slung casually over his shoulder and his trademark grin firmly in place.

"Hey," Dean greeted, his voice warm as he stopped a few feet away. His gaze dropped to Buddy, who stood alert at Y/N’s side. "Still working, huh? Guess I’ll keep my hands to myself this time."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Probably for the best. But he’s off-duty once we start walking in the park. That’s his rule, not mine."

Dean crouched, giving Buddy a respectful nod. "You hear that, pal? I’m in your territory now."

Buddy wagged his tail slightly, his usual stern demeanor relaxing just a bit, and Y/N chuckled again. "I think he’s starting to like you. That’s impressive—he doesn’t warm up to most people."

Dean straightened, his grin turning just a touch smug. "Well, I do have a way with animals... And women."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. "So, what’s the plan? You asked me out to make up for the dog thing, and here we are. A romantic walk in the park?"

Dean tilted his head, pretending to think. "That’s part of it. The other part’s getting to know you better." Touched by the sincerity in his voice, Y/N nodded, feeling her nerves ease.

The two of them fell into an easy rhythm as they walked along the park’s winding paths, Buddy trotting happily ahead. They talked about everything and nothing: Y/N’s job, Buddy’s quirks, Dean’s favorite pie recipes, and even a few funny stories.

Dean never opened up so easily, but Y/N felt safe. He even felt guilty not telling her his real job.

Eventually, they reached a secluded clearing by a small lake. Buddy, now fully off-duty, sniffed around the grass nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Y/N as always.

Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You know, I gotta admit... I wasn’t just making up for petting your dog when I asked you out."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh? What was it, then?"

Dean hesitated for half a second, his usual bravado faltering. "I don’t know. There’s something about you. You’re tough, smart, funny..."

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Even if you don’t always follow the no-petting rule."

Without knowing Y/N and Dean walked up to the old blue house on the corner. The house loomed in the dark, its broken shutters creaking in the cold wind.

"Buddy’s already on edge," Y/N whispered, gripping the dog’s harness. The Retriever growled low in his throat, his fur standing on end.

"Looks like we’re in the right place," he murmured, his hand instinctively hovering over the pistol tucked in the back of his jeans. He gently pulled Y/N behind him, his expression serious. "Let me call Sam. Might as well take a look."

Y/N tilted her head, her brows furrowing. "Take a look? At this time? What are you looking for exactly?"

Dean didn’t answer right away, pulling out his phone and texting Sam with quick precision. A low growl from Buddy at her side sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine, his ears flat against his head as he stared intently at the house.

Minutes later, headlights illuminated the driveway as the Impala’s familiar sleek silhouette rolled up. Sam hopped out, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure against the twilight.

"Dean, you sure about this?" Sam asked, walking around to the trunk of the Impala.

Dean opened it with a practiced motion, and Y/N’s jaw dropped. Inside was an arsenal of weapons: guns, knives, vials of strange liquids, and boxes of ammo. Dean grabbed his shotgun, quickly loading it with salt rounds. "Oh yeah, Sammy. This place is humming."

"What the hell is this?" Y/N blurted, gesturing to the weapons.

Dean glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Insurance."

"Insurance?" she echoed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Sam stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "Y/N, this is what we do. What you saw or better what Buddy felt was a ghost, somehow every year children disappear, this is how we deal with things like that. But it’s dangerous. You need to stay back."

Dean nodded in agreement, his green eyes serious as he looked at her. "Let us handle this. Buddy too. Keep him close."

The brothers headed toward the house, their weapons drawn. But as they approached the door, Buddy let out a sharp bark and yanked his leash free from Y/N’s hand.

"Buddy!" Y/N shouted, sprinting after him as the dog bounded up the steps and slipped through the open door.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, rushing after her. "Y/N, no!"

She didn’t hesitate, running after Buddy into the house. The second she crossed the threshold, the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her with an echoing bang.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, trying to open the locked door.

Dean spun around, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Y/N, you were supposed to stay outside!"

Y/N ignored him, her eyes scanning the dark, decaying interior. "I wasn’t about to leave Buddy in here! Where is he?"

A deep growl echoed through the house, sending a chill down everyone’s spines. The air grew colder, and the faint smell of rotting wood and sulfur filled Y/N’s nostrils. Buddy barked from somewhere deeper in the house, his sharp warning cutting through the oppressive silence.

"Stay close," Dean ordered, positioning himself between Y/N and the direction of the sound. "Sam, get her ass out of here!"

"I’m trying!" Sam called back, his voice muffled. "The door’s not budging."

Dean fired the first shot, the salt round scattering the shadow momentarily. "Well, this isn’t gonna be easy," he muttered. "You think?" Sam retorted.

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. He handed Y/N a flashlight from his jacket pocket. "Hold this. If you see anything—anything weird—don’t scream. Just tell me where it is."

Y/N nodded, clutching the flashlight with trembling hands as they moved further into the house. Dean led the way, his shotgun raised, while Buddy’s distant barks drew them closer to the heart of the building.

"Dean," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that smell?"

Dean’s jaw clenched. "Something bad. Stay close."

As they rounded a corner, they found Buddy standing in front of a doorway, his teeth bared and his growls low and menacing. Dean raised his shotgun as a shadowy figure flickered into view inside the room.

Dean kicked the door open seeing the bodies piled up. Y/N gasped. "Oh my!"

"Bingo Dean whispered under his breath, he started to salt and burn the corpses."Sam! Get her out of here," Dean said sharply, his voice low. "Now."

Y/N grabbed Buddy’s collar, her fear mounting. "What about you?"

"I’ll handle it," Dean said, his gaze locked on the figure as he loaded another shell. "Just go!"

Sam did everything to get Y/N out of the house while Dean started to burn the old remains he found in

Hours later: very very early morning

The warm glow of the diner’s neon sign spilled across the parking lot as Y/N slid into the booth opposite Dean and Sam. Buddy lay obediently at her feet, his golden coat reflecting the light from the hanging lamp above them.

The Winchester brothers had earned more than a few curious looks from the other patrons with their slightly singed jackets and dark circles under their eyes, but they didn't seem to notice—or care.

"Best fries in town," Dean said, sliding a menu across the table to Y/N. "Although, if you’re like me, you’re here for the pie."

Y/N chuckled, scanning the menu. "You were right; I am starving after all that. So… is this what you guys do? Travel around, fight ghosts, and eat questionable diner food?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied with a small smile, leaning back in the booth. "Although Dean’s dietary choices aren’t exactly… standard."

Dean mock-gasped. "Excuse me, my food choices are a finely tuned science. Protein and sugar keep me going during hunts." He paused, his grin softening. "But yeah, hunting—it’s what we do. Saved your life tonight, didn’t it?"

Y/N glanced down at Buddy, her hand instinctively reaching to scratch behind his ears. "It did. And Buddy here… He’s smarter than I gave him credit for." She looked up at them, her expression warm. "Honestly, I can’t thank you guys enough. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened."

Dean waved a hand, brushing off the gratitude. "Hey, it’s all in a day’s work. Besides, Buddy deserves most of the credit. Guy’s got instincts."

"He really does," Y/N agreed, her voice tinged with awe. "I thought he was just being stubborn that night, refusing to cross the street, but now I’m realizing… he probably saved me." Her smile faltered slightly as she looked between the two brothers. "I can’t imagine how you do this all the time. Doesn’t it get… exhausting? Scary?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. Sam was the one who answered. "It’s not easy. But someone has to do it. Most people wouldn’t even believe half the things we’ve seen. So, yeah, it’s scary sometimes, but… it’s worth it."

Dean leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "And hey, it’s not all bad. We’ve got stories for days. Like that time a possessed mannequin tried to stab me. Or when Sam got body-snatched by a teenage girl." He grinned mischievously as Sam groaned in protest.

Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine, cutting through the heaviness of the earlier hunt. "You guys really are something else."

As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted from ghost stories to lighter topics. Y/N told them about Buddy’s training and how she’d adopted him after he flunked out of guide dog school for being "too easily distracted." Dean snorted at that, muttering, "Sounds like we’ve got something in common, pal," earning a bark of approval from Buddy.

When the check finally arrived, Y/N reached for it, but Dean slid it away with a wink. "Hunter’s treat."

"Thanks," Y/N said softly, her eyes lingering on the brothers. "This has been… really nice. Weird, but nice."

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Y/N dug a small notepad from her bag, scribbling her number and handing it to Dean. "If you guys are ever back in town, give me a call. It was really nice meeting you both."

"Likewise," Sam said, his smile sincere.

Dean, however, seemed unusually quiet. He watched as Y/N clipped Buddy’s leash back on and headed toward her car. His gaze lingered as she opened the door, Buddy hopping inside.

Sam smirked, his arms crossed. "So… I’m starting to guess it wasn’t the dog that had your attention this time."

Dean snapped out of his daze, turning to his brother with an indignant look. "Huh? What’re you talking about?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on. You were practically drooling."

Dean scoffed, but the faintest hint of a blush crept up his neck. "I was not. I was just… impressed, that’s all. She’s smart. And brave. And… whatever, shut up."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, his grin widening. "Impressed. Sure."

Dean jumped up, rushing out the door "Y/N! Wait up!". She stopped reversing her car. "What's wrong?" Dean leaned on her now open window. Dean seemingly nervous. "I figured maybe we could start over. No ghosts. No hunts. Just… us."

"I’d like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean’s smile widened, but it faded slightly as he glanced down at her lips, his expression turning serious. "Can I kiss you? Or is that off-limits too?"

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re in the clear this time."

Dean didn’t need any more encouragement. He leaned in, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek as their lips met. The kiss was warm and gentle, filled with a tenderness Y/N hadn’t expected but welcomed all the same.

"Call me?" he asked like a shy little schoolboy. Y/N Smirked only if you promise our date walks won't end in horror movies anymore?"

“Deal!” and with that he leaned back for another breathtaking kiss. Much to Buddy's disapproval

WOOF

Taglist -> Click here to add

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@imsiriuslyreal

#jensen ackles #fanfic #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #dean winchester #spn #service dog #supernatural sam #supernatural fandom #supernatural dean #supernatural

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lost-between-letters · 1 year ago

Text

Let's Go Home

Pairing: Sam Winchester x wife!teacher!Reader (she/her)

Requested by: @lelapine

Word Count: 1,220

Summary: you work as a teacher at the local high school and often stay later than you mean to. Luckily, you've got a husband who checks his watch regularly

A/N: this isn't spell checked (as almost everything I write) so read at your own risk. Also, sorry if the ending feels off, i couldn't decide where to cut off (and yes, that student is who you think he is, I couldn't resist)

"I just don't know how I'm supposed to see this stuff on my own," Steve raked his hand through his hair and stared down at the essay lying between them, "I'm sorry Mrs. W."

Y/N sighed and put down the red pen she'd used to circle in the more outstanding motives in her copy of Macbeth. They've been through various versions of this exchange now over the past few weeks. "It's okay, Steve. Not everyone's going to major in English lit."

"But I've got to pass this class!" There was a desperation in his voice she hadn't expected. The poor boy looked about two D minuses from outright begging.

This wasn't how Y/N envisioned her night to be going when she heard the knock on her classroom door. An hour after her last class. Steve had been coming to her fairly regularly for his essays once she'd realised that he'd need the extra help, but today, he was downright frantic.

So she refrained from putting her head on the table right next to his and instead forced her tired eyes to stay open and show the trust she had in him and his admittedly mediocre english lit abilities. They were enough to get by, and Y/N knew that not everyone of her students would get the appeal of her subject.

"And you will," Y/N said calmly.

"But I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing!" Steve told the wooden table. His voice was muffled by his hands.

"Who does anyway?" A voice came from the doorway.

Y/N looked up sharply, a surprised smile spreading across her face. "Sam! What are you doing here?"

Sam smiled right back at her and walked until he could look over at what they were working on.

"It's late," he said simply, hands coming to rest on her shoulders, "and I got worried."

Oh. Y/N checked her watch and came to the realisation that, yes, she'd just spent the last three hours here. Instead of home. Where she had been supposed to be about two hours ago.

Steve's head shot off the table, eyes wide. "Shit, I'm so sorry, Mrs Winchester."

"It's okay," she said, looking up at her husband as guilt settled behind her ribs. He must've been waiting for her, "I'm happy to help you."

"I think you both need a break, though," Sam said and squeezed her shoulders.

Steve all but shot out of his seat and gathered his things. His hands were frantic, almost shaking. Y/N watched him, a frown on her lips. She had noticed that before on Steve. "Yes, sir. Sorry for keeping Mrs Winchester so long."

Y/N got up as well, gathering her things as Sam stood there and watched them, brows furrowed in concern. It was clear that that wasn't a thing he'd come prepared for. Finding her slumped over a stack of papers to grade? Wouldn't be the first time. But a teenager falling over his feet apologising for needing extra classes? Not so much.

"It's okay. I kept my teachers back plenty, must've driven them half mad with all my questions." He was putting on his 'Dean-voice', Y/N noticed with a smile and tucked herself into his side. It had been a long day.

"Always been a curious one, that one," she agreed as Sam took her bag from her shoulder, "he keeps asking me questions about you guys' papers even now. Total nerd."

"Guilty as charged."

That did the trick. Steve laughed, and his shoulders sunk just a fraction.

They walked out of the building together, Sam telling Steve a few heavily censored stories about his own school time. Y/N listened in, nodding along whenever Steve looked to her for confirmation and otherwise stayed quietly tucked under Sam's arm.

Once they reached Sam's car, Y/N all but collapsed into the passenger seat. And stayed there.

Sam chuckled when he saw her almost lying there and ran his knuckles over her cheek, soft amusement in his eyes. "Long day?"

"Too long," she groaned and turned into his touch.

"Then let's get you home."

Y/N hummed in agreement.

For a while, there was only the rumble of the car, and Sam's even breathing that broke the silence. It was such a domestic moment, his hand now resting on her knee, the dark scenery passing her window, that it was becoming a fight to keep her eyes open. Y/N surrendered easily and rested her head against the window. "Thanks for picking me up."

"Anytime, baby."

Y/N hummed again and suppressed a yawn.

"That Steve kid," Sam stopped and looked at her sideways, worry in his eyes, "is he alright?"

"hope so," Y/N yawned again and wiggled a bit until she was in a more comfortable position, "he's gonna pass my classes 'nd I'm tryin' to check in on him as much as possible."

"Something we'll have to keep an eye on?"

"Nah, just shitty parents and bein' a teenager, I think," Y/N mumbled, "'m gonna rip his dad a new one if i get to meet him, though."

Sam snorted. "Remind me to be present for that."

Y/N nodded and rested her head back against the window. That day would be a good day.

At some point, Sam turned on the radio and let the familiar tunes wash over both of them. His eyes were steady on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other on her knee, a solid presence. It wasn't a long drive back to the bunker, but it was enough time to create a comfortable little bubble that Sam found himself sinking into. If he hadn't been driving, it would've surely lulled him to sleep at some point.

And that was exactly what it did to Y/N. She was sleeping peacefully by the time they got home, so Sam shut his own door quietly and walked around to the passenger side.

He carefully untangled the strap of her bag from her legs and then leaned over to gather her up in his arms.

Y/N huffed softly once he picked her up but only turned into his chest with a quiet "Sam?"

"I got you, Baby," he murmured and kissed her forehead.

She sighed, apparently satisfied with that reply, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Sam carried her slowly to their room, making sure not to jostle her too much now that she was sleeping. Once there, he carefully placed her down on the bed and crouched to take off her shoes before draping the duvet over her curled up body.

He was just about to go and get ready for bed himself when Y/N sat up, blinking up at him confusedly. "Where're you goin'?"

"Brushing my teeth," he smiled and leaned down to place a kiss on her nose, "get back to sleep."

Y/N pouted and pulled the blanket higher. "Hurry."

Sam did just that and climbed into bed with her not two minutes later. Dental hygiene was overrated anyway.

It didn't take long for Y/N to wrap her entire body around him. Actually, his head hadn't even fully hit the pillow yet. He chuckled quietly.

"Love you," Y/N mumbled into his neck, apparently oblivious to his amusement.

He kissed her hair and wrapped his arms around her waist, getting comfortable as well. "Love you too."

"Night Sam."

"Night, Y/N."

#sam x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction

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runningincircl3s · 8 days ago

Text

Sinematic

Vinny Mauro x Reader

Chapter 1

chapter warnings: negative thoughts?

IM SO EXCITED TO FINALLY START SHARING THIS STORY!!! i've been working on it for months, and personally i think it's literally one of the best things i've ever written so i hope you like reading it as much as i've loved writing it!! :)

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It had been two months since your one night stand with Vinny. In that time, you got booked for a small tour with a local band, happy to be picking up your camera again, and you considered quitting your job and to get back into photography full time.

This weekend, you were visiting Shae with Angela for your monthly girls weekend together. Usually, you’d go to a spa hotel or somewhere nice, but this month you had all been busy and none of you had the chance to book anything, so to Shae’s house it was!

The evening was spent the way it always was- gossiping, watching movies, and giggling together. But as another movie ended, you excused yourself to use the bathroom, completely unaware of how one small detail was about to change everything.

You reached out for the toilet paper, and suddenly froze.

You caught a glimpse of a pack of tampons.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the box.

All of a sudden you couldn’t remember when your last period was.

You furrowed your brows, grabbing your phone and opening your period tracker to check the dates.

You had missed your last period, which you were supposed to have when you went on the small tour, you must have been so busy that you didn’t think twice about it, and it was a couple days late this month.

You broke out in a cold sweat. Your heart pounded as you washed your hands and left the bathroom, suddenly feeling lightheaded. You needed water.

Shae’s voice pulled you back into reality, making you jump as she walked into the kitchen behind you.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, “You were in there for a while… It’s not food poisoning is it? Justin had that last week and-”

“No,” you forced out a chuckle, gripping the glass of water tighter than necessary. “…Can I ask you something kinda personal?”

Shae’s expression softened.

“Of course.”

“When you found out you were pregnant… How did you know?”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“I kept taking tests, I guess.” A beat passed. “Why are you asking?”

Your grip tightened around the glass.

“Well... I missed my last period.”

Shae’s eyes widened.

“Shut up. But you haven’t…?”

“No, this can’t be fucking happening,” you groaned, panic bubbling in your chest. “I didn’t notice last month because I was touring. Everything was so chaotic, and-”

“The store’s probably closed now but we can always go tomorrow and pick up a couple tests?”

You nod your head, hands shaking as you set your glass on the counter.

“Fuck…” You ran your fingers through your hair, “Do I tell Vin?”

“It’s Vin’s?!” She practically shouted, “Excuse me?! Did I miss a chapter?”

“We… Well, we slept together a couple months ago, it was a mistake, a one off-”

“You saw Vinny again and didn’t think to say anything? I can’t believe this.”

“That’s not the point-”

“What’s happening?” Angela’s voice cut in as she entered the room, her tone laced with amusement.

“Y/n’s pregnant!” Shae laughed, “And get this… It’s Vin’s.”

But what you didn’t know was that Justin just happened to be walking past at that exact moment, hearing every word that had just come from Shae’s mouth.

His steps faltered. His stomach dropped.

Wait.

He was not supposed to hear that.

His mind raced. Should he do something? Say something? Did he mishear? No, he definitely heard correctly!

This wasn’t his business, but Vin was his friend. And if it were him in his place, he’d want to know.

He slowly walked away, pulling his phone out of his pocket, contemplating whether he should get himself involved or not. Ultimately deciding it was a bad idea, sliding his phone back into his pocket and walking back up the stairs to his room.

“I’m not!” You shook your head, “Look, I changed my birth control not so long ago, so it’s probably just messed up my cycle!”

“That could be why it’s late,” Angela agreed, “It messes up your hormones and shit, it takes a while for it to go back to normal.”

She pulled her phone out, googled your problem and set it on the counter to show everyone.

How changing birth control can affect your periods:

Missed periods: It's normal to skip a period for a month when switching birth control pills.

“See, I’m not pregnant.” You told Shae, although you were also trying to convince yourself too.

“I wouldn’t rule it out, honey,” she said, “Still take a test just to be safe.”

You nodded your head, telling them you’d pick up a test on your way home tomorrow.

Justin was now sitting on the edge of his bed, still pondering what to do about this situation, whether he should give Vin a heads up or wait and let you tell him. But if this was him that it was happening to, he would want to know as soon as possible.

So he got his phone back out, found Vin’s contact and started typing.

Hey man, I don’t know if this is still a sore topic but y/n’s here with Shae tonight and I’ve just overheard something they’ve been saying. I could be wrong but… Let’s just say you might need to start shopping for baby drumsticks soon!

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding after he pressed send. He felt a little bit guilty, but he was just looking out for his friend.

It’s what anyone else would’ve done, right?

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“No! Fuck! They got me again!” Vinny groaned as he saw his screen glow red again.

He had gone back to streaming games on his twitch most nights, meaning he’d be staying up into the early hours of the mornings, playing until his eyes turned red, until he could barely keep them open.

He lived a pretty simple life when he wasn’t on tour. Even more so now that his roommate had left. He’d wake up, take a shower, get lunch, play drums for a bit, play games for a bit, start streaming, order takeout for dinner, play more games, stop streaming, play more and then eventually when it was physically impossible to stay awake for any longer, go to sleep. He told himself he liked the simplicity of it, but the truth was, he needed the distractions. Because when things got too quiet, too slow, his mind always wandered back to you.

He missed you more than anything, but after what he had gone through, he had to be more cautious. He couldn’t give you his heart once more to only have it broken all over again. As much as he wanted to trust you, he didn’t know if he could. He didn’t even know if he could trust himself these days. This is why he left that morning, he couldn’t risk anything.

“Vin, isn't it 4am? why are you still streaming lol,” He read a comment from the chat, “Maybe it’s because I’m not tired!”

He said as he yawned.

“Okay I lied, I should really get off stream now,” he yawned again, “I love you guys, I should be here at the same time again tomorrow…” He looked at the time. 4:08am. “Thanks for being here!” He smiled before ending the stream, yawning once more.

As he picked up his phone and his empty cup, heading up the stairs to his room, he saw he had a text from a few hours ago that he hadn’t read.

From Justin?

He tapped the message, his eyes skimming the words.

Then his entire body tensed.

“No fucking way,” he muttered under his breath, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. He read the text again.

And again.

This had to be a mistake.

Justin must’ve misheard. Yeah, that was it.

Because if this were true, you would have told him yourself. He wouldn't have heard it from Justin. Not like this.

It must’ve been a prank. Vin let out a sigh of relief, followed by a chuckle. Justin was clearly just trying to scare him, he was probably with his friends.

But you and Vin swore not to tell anyone about that night you spent together, so what was really going on?

His eye caught the joint that was sitting on his dresser, it had been rolled the previous afternoon. He called it his emergency sleep aid, but he knew if he was to smoke now, he’d spiral and probably end up having a panic attack.

His mind continued to whirl with memories of that night, of the way you looked beneath him, of how easy it had been to fall back into old habits. He had spent the last two months convincing himself that night was a mistake, that it didn’t mean anything. But now?

Now, it's all changed.

His fingers hovered over your contact. Should he call you? Text you?

Instead, he set his phone down and ran a hand over his face. He needed to sleep.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The drive home from Shae’s the next day felt like a blur. You felt like you were in a bad dream you just couldn’t wake up from. The streetlights passed in streaks, and the radio hummed in the background, but you weren’t really there, you were surprised you even made it to the drugstore.

The fluorescent lights inside were too bright, too clinical. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your hoodie, walking straight past the aisles of makeup and skincare, your heart pounding harder with every step as you approached the health aisle, and there they were.

The shelves were overwhelming. How were there this many options? Which one did you need? Early detection, digital, triple check, clear results in words- Why did it even matter? Your fingers hovered over the boxes, hesitation creeping up your spine.

It was fine. This was fine. People do this every day.

Just pick one.

You grabbed the closest box to you and turned on your heel, heading for the self-checkout before you could second-guess yourself. The employee working behind the counter barely glanced at you as you wandered past, but you still felt exposed, like everyone in the store knew.

You scanned the box before stuffing it into your bag and paying with shaky hands. As you stepped outside, the cold air hit your lungs like a shock. You could finally breathe.

You exhaled sharply, gripping the bag like it held something dangerous.

You could take it as soon as you got home. Get it over with.

But as you tossed it onto the passenger seat and started the car, the panic settled deeper in your chest.

What if it was positive? Then what?

Your grip tightened on the wheel. You didn’t want to know. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

You drove the rest of the way home in silence, with one thought on your mind. One person.

Vinny.

What would he think? What if he didn’t want it and you did? What if he did want it and you didn’t?

Once you were home, you unlocked your door and rushed to your room, sitting yourself down on the edge of your bed and breaking down in tears.

As if she sensed you were upset, your phone lit up, Angela was calling.

“Hi.” You sniffled as you answered.

“Hey, just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“I did, yeah…”

“Good,” she smiled, even though you couldn’t see, “Did you pick up a-”

“I did, it’s still in my car. I’m too scared to do it, Ang. I don’t know if I can.”

“Hey, the worst that can happen is that it’ll be positive, right? And then whatever you choose to do with it is your choice, girl. But don’t forget it could also be negative.”

“I know…” You said, blinking tears out of your eyes, “Nobody’s told Vin, right?”

“I haven’t, there’s no way Shae would.”

“Okay, I don’t want him to know unless… Well, I just don’t know how I’d even tell him if it was positive.”

“Hey, you don’t even know if it is! Stop worrying so much!”

“I know.” You frown, “Look, I’m going to have a shower and maybe take a nap, then I’ll think about taking it.”

“Call me when you do, okay? I don’t want you having to do that shit alone. If I didn’t have to leave for work tonight I’d be right there with you.”

“I will, thanks Ang.”

“No worries. Just keep me updated, okay?”

“Yeah I will. Thank you.“

You always wondered what you did to deserve the best friends in the world.

---------------------

@collapsedglasshouses @miss570 @dominuslunae @sunshine-lvrr @death-ofpeace-ofmind @blade-dressed-in-red @amelia-acero @kait16xo @oobleoob this is a new taglist so if i missed you or you want to be added please let me know!!

#vinny mauro x reader #vinny mauro fanfic #vinny mauro #motionless in white fanfic #sinematic <3

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 months ago

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I just came across the article today, and the whole thing is very interesting. I highly recommend reading it all, to anyone who's interested in the history of British comedy double acts. It's basic stories that I did already know - Cook and Moore, Lee and Herring, Newman and Baddiel, French and Saunders - but it juxtaposes them in a way that I quite enjoyed reading, and adds a number of details that I did not already know. I am interesting in double act dynamics, so this was a really cool article.

However, I am, of course, going to cut and paste on particular segment:

In 2006, Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver, who were at the time writing their third Edinburgh show together, travelled to London to audition for a role on Jon Stewart’s The Daily Show. Only Oliver, however, was called to a second audition. “When they offered him the job, unfathomably, John chose to go and work on the world’s leading satirical TV show rather than speak to 30 people in a tiny room in Edinburgh,” Zaltzman tells me over a Diet Pepsi in a London pub. After the swift departure of Oliver, who now presents HBO’s primetime political talkshow Last Week Tonight, Zaltzman was left to write and, two weeks later, perform the Edinburgh show alone. “It was difficult because I had nothing to replace this wonderful working relationship and friendship,” Zaltzman says. The year after Oliver left for America, Zaltzman “bumbled along” performing political standup. Then they were offered the opportunity to record a weekly topical podcast, the Bugle. Oliver agreed to rejoin the double act (albeit via a telephone line) as co-host. “It worked well straight away,” says Zaltzman. “There hadn’t been any great falling out, so in that sense it was easy for us to work together again.” The podcast, a satirical take on the week’s news, ran from 2007 to 2014 without a break. It then had a hiatus while Oliver focused on launching his new TV show; he soon found that the show was taking up too much of his time, and the Bugle came to an end in 2015. Then in 2016, Zaltzman relaunched it without Oliver, instead partnering with a roster of comedians including Nish Kumar and Hari Kondabolu. “To lose [Oliver] after having worked so closely for years left a void,” says Zaltzman. “But my frustration was not with his success. I like to think I haven’t become a bitter, twisted, resentment-fuelled showbiz cliche. But maybe there is a residual awkwardness about the different paths we’ve taken.”

Sorry, what the fuck? Did anyone else know about this? That apparently Andy Zaltzman also auditioned for The Daily Show, at the same time as John? I know a hell of a lot about the Zaltzman and Oliver history, and I never knew that. Which means Zaltzman's kept it quiet, in the all the times he's told stories in interviews about the paths their double acts took in those years.

I'd heard all that other stuff before. There's a Bugle quote (from 2018, the same year this article came out, so I guess Andy was into that phrasing at the time), in which Andy refers to: "June 2006, when [John Oliver] told me he wanted to do the Daily Show job instead of coming with me to Edinburgh to talk to 25 people a day in a darkened room." And of course I've heard Andy talk about how he felt like he was "bumbling" in the year between John going to America (June 2006) and The Bugle starting (Oct 2007), as he tried to get by without the double act. I'm convinced that the difficulty he had during that year is why he waited so long to pull the plug on The Bugle in 2015, when John had clearly checked out, and yet Andy kept doing filler episodes in which he'd tell us they're going to get this going with John again soon, like a mother telling the children that their dad has just gone out for cigarettes and will be back. Of all the double act stories in that article, Zaltzman and Oliver has to be one where one member tried the hardest to claw on after the other was out, not wanting to let go of it. And I include Lee and Herring, when I say Zaltzman and Oliver did that more than any others.

Anyway, the information that Andy Zaltzman had also auditioned for The Daily Show is a massive fact for this article to just casually drop. That recontextualizes a lot of stuff from around that time, and makes a lot of sense. @lastweeksshirttonight, @bimwi - as the other people here who know a lot about that history, am I the only one who didn't know that? Was anyone else aware of this?

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be-missed · 1 year ago

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Not Strong Enough (Chap 5)

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

(pictures not mine)

Summary: Jenna was visiting her mom in the hospital to drop off the food that will be eaten for the hospital party, but she met a resident surgeon and she thought "God forbid I ran into an accident, but I want her to open me and stitch me up." While the surgeon tries her best to keep her fan girling low-key.

Warning: curse words.

A/N: 5th chapter, thank you for waiting. I'll be using a different POV her, please tell me if this is better or no. Also, I think if I start using this POV, y'all need to be guessing what's inside of Jenna's (in the story) mind.

Masterlist

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | Chap 6

______________________________________________________________

Chap 5

"Hey, thanks for today, I really enjoyed the concert. See you around!"

You kept on reading the last text message that Jenna sent you after the concert. In the past few days, you are trying to keep your distance from the girl that you have been liking for some quite time now. After the concert, listening to the songs, it feels like you are having a revelation; you can't and you won't be the love of her life you thought.

So what you did was to be more productive than you are to stop yourself from thinking of the other girl and checking your phone. In the hospital when Jenna visits, you try to lessen your interaction and dismisses her telling that you are busy and needed in the surgery room. But one time, Jenna caught you seating in the chairs and watching a video on your phone. You didn't know that she'll go visit and unfortunately she asked around and asked what time is your break.

You were watching Melissa Barrera's 'Get To Bed With Me' YouTube video for Harper's Bazaar. "So, you are on a break, right?" You heard from your side and that got you surprised, it is Jenna's voice and you answered "Hey, I didn't know you were coming." and she chuckles and said "I came to surprise you, you were always on the go when I visit" she said and sat beside you.

You look at her whole figure intently, nothing has change, still the same chipped nail polish from the concert, same chuck taylors that she loves to wear, her headphone hanging around her neck, that necklace she wears sometimes when she is in the mood and a few rings.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry... there's a lot that's been going around here" you said with a sad smile and Jenna answered "No worries, I'm just glad I get to talk to you." and smiled at you.

Why does she need to smile like you are the softest thing that she have ever seen. "So, I just noticed, I mean I don't want to assume, because like, you know, it's not good, but I would like t you know, ask maybe, or like no, I've been meaning to tell you-" Jenna started to rumble but you held her hand and squeezed it and said "Hey you're rambling, it's ok breathe."

"Okay, I noticed that you are kinda ignoring me. You haven't replied to my message last last week, you have been ignoring me when I go here, I mean yes, we talk in facetime but you end it so quickly. I just... I miss you." Those words came out of Jenna's mouth.

She misses you. SHE MISSES YOU.

"Oh..." You started "I'm sorry if you feel like that, but I have been really really busy." You ended. But you feel like Jenna knows that you are lying to her.

"Sure, I mean, I'm sorry to bother you." Jenna said and went up to stand but you stopped her "Hey, please don't think that you're bothering me, that can never happen" and you smiled at her.

"Okay..." Jenna said and accepted your answer "So, do you have any plans for Halloween?" she asked and you answered "Yes, actually My friends and I are having a Halloween Party, just the four of us since we can't handle big events" and ended with a laugh.

"That sounds really nice, what are you dressing up?" Jenna asked you with such curiosity and you answered "Well, I'll be dressing up as Mavis from Hotel Transylvania."

Jenna took a mental note on that. The both of you heard a blaring sound and a voice said "Code Blue" and that alerted you.

"Hey, I'll be calling you, I am needed, duty calls." You said and kissed Jenna's cheeks and hugs her and you bolted out.

---

"Y/N please stop walking around, please" Ava stated while you pace around the break room with you friends watching you like you were in a loop. Beatrice enters the room, kissed her wife and looked at you weirdly.

"What is happening here?" Bea asked and her wife answered, "Well your friend here kissed her little princess, IN THE CHEEK." Ava exaggerated the last words that made Bea chuckle and said "Wow, a kiss on the cheek made you like that, how about when you get to kiss her." and the wives made fun of you that made you stop from pacing.

"GUYS! This isn't even funny!" You said that made the both of them laugh even more, "Chill down Y/N, girl friends kiss each other in the cheek." Beatrice emphasize the space between girl and friends "And please calm your thoughts down, try to stay in the present and no overthink yeah." Beatrice added.

"Okay, sure sure, I will try" you sat beside them and drink your water.

"So are you ready for our Halloween Party?" Ava asked and you just nodded "Okay, I can't wait to see you in your costume."

---

"TRICK OR TREAT" Those are the three words that the four of them hearing while they are having a dinner and playing monopoly.

"Damn, it's so late and there are kids outside." Ava stated as you went up and opened the door to give them candies and give them compliments for the effort that they did for their costume.

As you take your seat again "You can't blame them. I'd be walking the whole neighborhood just to get lots of candies" and rolled the dice, you moved your character that landed on boardwalk. You hollered and celebrated as you got the most expensive property in the game.

"That's not fair Y/N, you need to leave some property for us." Camila exclaimed while pouting like a little kid, "Oh stop it, you almost owned all of the land on the other side."

Beatrice gave you a house and the card for the boardwalk. Another knock on the door and a "Trick or Treat" can be heard, with a happy feeling, knowing that you'll be crashing Ava and Camila in the game, you happily get the bucket of candy and opened the door, and it stunned you.

Jenna was the one that is in front of the door, with her little cousins.

As you scanned her face, you could also see a surprised look, she probably doesn't assume that you will be the one opening the door and will be giving them the treats.

"Hey..." you said with the brightest smile, feeling like a fucking winner even if the game hasn't ended, but looking at Jenna with her orange long sleeve under a yellow jersey T-shirt, cargo shirt, and on her adidas rubber shoes. You intake in everything that is on her and she replied back with a smirk on her face "Hey back to you beautiful."

"Can I get my candies now?" You hear a littlw voice and you looked down and answered "Sure sweetie, here get anything you want" and almost gave all of the candies to Jenna's cousin.

"Whoa there, that's a lot for you miss." Jenna exclaimed seeing that you almost empty the candy bucket that you have.

"Didn't know you live around our block?" Jenna said and you answered "Oh no, this is not mine, this is actually where Ava and Beatrice lives" and scratched your head, "You wanna join our party?" you asked Jenna and she answered "Oh I would like to, but as you can see I'm tasked to bring the kids to trick or treat"

That made you sad because you won't be hanging with Jenna.

"But... I can come after we round the whole block if that's alright?" She asked and that made you smile and you answered "Sure, that's great" and you watched them walking away. The both of you shared a small wave.

As you went back to the table, you said to the group " I hope it's okay that I invited someone later?" and that made them look at you "It's just Jenna, so I hope you don't mind?"

"Wow, so now you got the guts to invite her huh? But yeah, it's okay for me, how about you my love?" Bea said and Ava nodded because her mouth is currently full with m&m.

"It's about damn time I get to meet her. I'll show her how I fucking nailed Wednesday's dance" Camila exclaimed and both you and Beatrice said "Please no."

---

An hour passed and the four of you are just watching a horror film when the doorbell rang. When you opened the door, you saw Jenna standing with a wine on her hand.

"Hey you didn't need to bring something" you said and Jenna answered "I think it's good to impress your friends" and the both of you entered the living room that made the other three stare at you.

Beatrice paused the movie and Camila said "Wow, you got your whole costume planned huh?" and that made you look at her questionly.

You then scanned Jenna's costume, orange long sleeves under a yellow jersey T-Shirt, a cargo short, and a rubber shoes. That's where it clicked, SHE WAS DRESS AS JOHNNY, Mavis' husband.

"Surprise" Jenna said in a little voice and looked at you worriedly.

You bit your lips and said "Well good to see you husband." You kissed her cheeks again and pull her to the sofa to the spot where you were seated earlier and the movie continued.

"I hope it's okay" Jenna whispered and that made you look at her, you were so close to her face, the lights of the TV illuminated her face, and that just took your breath away.

"What do you mean?" You asked, a bit of perplexed on what she's asking. "I dressed up as Johnny" she said.

You thought, why would she feel sorry for dressing up as your husband, as Mavis' husband? Because what she just did for her costume, being in a couple costume with you, sent you heart beating impossibly fast that you fear it will just stop and Jenna will be seeing you body lying on the floor while your three friends are trying to perform a cpr on you.

"No worries, I kinda like how you played it off, it looks good on you." You said and if the lights were on, you will notice how the blush on Jenna's face creeps in. "You are beautiful as well Y/N" Jenna said.

"Can we please now watch" Camila said to the both of you because she is just literally seating close to the both of you, which made the both of you said your apologise quietly and sat comfortably beside each other.

The night went on, and the five of you finished two movies. Beatrice and Ava are now cleaning the living room while you clean the dining room which leaves Camila and Jenna in the living room.

Camila broke the silence and said "I really liked you on Wednesday." and that made Jenna smile and said a thank you, Camila then continued "You know, if I may, I can show you how I perfected the dance you did in the ball" Camila stands up in the middle of the living room and within a second you tackled Camila into the floor, not wanting to make Jenna feel uncomfortable since you have watched a lot of her interviews about the Wednesday dance and also you are concerned about your friend who can't really dance to save her life.

"WHAT THE FUCK Y/N" Camila exclaimed and pushed you off of her "I'm sorry, I just missed you" you answered while you are still lying on the floor.

Jenna went to you and helped you up "Are you okay?" she asked and you just nodded.

"That was not fair Y/N, I was about to show Jenna my dancing skills" Camila said with a pout on her lips, and that just made you giggle.

Jenna buts in and said "Maybe you can show me next time when we meet each other again."

But that just made your head shakes for a no, earning a few "no" that can be heard from Bea and Ava.

Finishing up and gathering your things, you said your goodbye to Ava, Bea, and Camila. Jenna by your side walking towards the street.

"Thanks for inviting me tonight" Jenna said kicking stones that got in her way.

You looked at her like a little kid, thinking it was fun to see her like this, enjoying herself and being young & free. "No problem, I love having you around and the girls have been wanting to meet you since they only got to greet you in the hospital" you said.

"Really? I'm glad to hear that. I also enjoyed spending time with them" She said.

Walking a few more streets and you were nearing Jenna's house. No small talks were made, only the noise of the neighborhood can be heard and your small hums.

Jenna the breaks the silence "I just noticed that you always invite me to do something while I just go and say yes."

"Well, I like hanging out with you" you answered, because it is true. You know for yourself that even if you don't have any feelings for Jenna, you would enjoy her company.

"How about if you come to our Family dinner next time, sounds good?" Jenna suggested and it surprised you. How come you got invited to a Family Dinner and that made you super shy because you will gonna be surrounded with Jenna's family and you were scared that they will not like you. But then you reminded yourself to calm down and live on the now.

"Uhmm sure, if that's okay with your family, I don't want to intrude" you answered and Jenna smiled and said "Oh trust me they would love you there, my mom was also planning in inviting you, she said you are like a daughter to her"

Wow, Natalie has plans on inviting you, that was the first time you heard that. You know that you and Natalie have this bond and you feel so treasured and loved, thinking that Natalie thought of you more like her daughter.

Stepping in front of the Ortega's front door, you and Jenna faced each other earning a sweet smile on both of your faces.

"Thank you for tonight" Jenna said.

That moment, this moment, you were so sure that you wanted to kiss Jenna, you are thinking, you have stopped yourself many times to not kiss her so maybe this is a good chance to let go and just kiss her. Live on the now, you think. Your heart beating loud and you try to block the negative thoughts.

So one of your hand went into Jenna's side, you were slowly leaning in, waiting for a movement from the other girl to pull away and you felt none, so you persisted and you felt that Jenna was also leaning in, placing her hands into your shoulder.

A flashing of lights and a honk is heard that broke you apart. The windows rolled down and you saw Jenna's dad waving, getting down the car and going towards the both of you.

"Hey girls, hope I'm not interrupting something?" said and hugged Jenna and looked at you.

You introduced yourself "Good evening Sir, I'M Y/N, Jenna's friend and Natalie's co-worker.' and stretched your hand to shake his hand which he did shake and exclaimed "So you are who's Jenna is talking about, huh?"

Jenna nudged her father "Dad, please stop" which made her father laugh and said "Well, if you are hungry you can go inside and dig in." and leave the both of you outside again.

You broke the silence and said "Well, I'm gonna go home" you take Jenna's hand and kissed the back of it, "Good night my husband" You said with a teasing smile referring to Jenna's costume and you started to walk down their front yard.

Jenna then said "Good night to you my wife, call me when you're home" and blow you a kiss which you catch and kept it in your pocket that made Jenna laugh.

And that maybe was the greatest Halloween that you could have ever have in you whole life.

______________________________________________________________

Chap 6

A/N: an update, hope this was good. Thanks for reading!

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #fanfic #fiction #jenna ortega imagine

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sixhours · 11 months ago

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One Day at a Time - Chapter 6 - Transition

Author's note: Good news! The rest of this will probably be posted today, with the exception of an epilogue I haven't had the guts to write. When I do, it will be posted as a separate work, and it's not necessary to wrap up this story. Thank you for reading! Your comments and reblogs are feeding me. <3

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

After weeks of sleeping on the narrow, lumpy mattress in Ellie’s old room, his back finally gives out.

He’s reaching for the coffee pot and something about how he moves his shoulder causes a domino effect of rippling pain that starts at the nape of his neck and ends by setting his sciatic nerve on fire, every muscle along his spine locking up tighter than a fist.

He barely makes it to the couch, easing himself down to a prone position with a groan that he hopes Charlie can’t hear from the bedroom.

Her footsteps echo on the stairs.

No such luck.

“Did someone just die down here?”

“M’fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Just my back.”

“What happened?“

Ellie chooses that moment to come through the front door. “Joel? I need a–”

“He’s on the couch. Think his back gave out,” Charlie says, now standing over him, looking concerned.

Ellie’s face pokes over the back of the couch. “Again, old man?”

“M’fine,” he repeats, trying to roll to his side to try to stand, but that only aggravates the nerve and sends a ripple of spasms up his traitorous spine. “Fuck!”

“Should I go find Maria?” Ellie asks. “Those pills she had worked last time–”

“No, I just…need to rest for a minute,” he grumbles, knowing full well he’s out of commission until someone finds him a muscle relaxant.

“Is he always like this?” Charlie asks.

“Pretty much,” Ellie says, too quickly for Joel’s liking.

“I’ll go find Maria,” Charlie says, surprising them both when she takes Joel’s hand and gives it a tender squeeze. Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself again. I’ll be back,” she addresses Ellie before heading out the door.

When Charlie is gone, Ellie plops into the armchair and leans forward, an almost predatory smirk on her face.

“So…is she your girlfriend yet?”

“S’not like–”

“If you say ‘it’s not like that’ one more time, I’ll take the damn pills myself,” she says.

Joel groans. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Got ya right where I want ya,” she says. “Spill it, dude.”

“No, we’re not…I don’t…I dunno,” he grumbles.

“You ‘don’t know?’”

“S’what I said,” he grits his teeth against another wave of pain, forcing himself to lie absolutely still. “It’s complicated.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “That’s just what grown-ups say when they don’t want to tell you the truth.”

He winces. “Yeah. Well, the truth is…it’s complicated.”

She sighs. “Are you sleeping together?”

“That’s none of your–”

“Just saying, if you’re fucking her, she’s probably your girlfriend. So it’s not that complicated.”

“Ellie, I’m not havin’ this conversation,” he growls, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well, you should probably figure it out before the baby gets here.”

He can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t.

“It’s gonna be weird…having a baby around,” she says thoughtfully. “Remember how bad Tommy was after Izzy was born? When he kept putting Maria’s breastmilk in his coffee by accident?”

Joel snorts. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You’re gonna be busy,” she says. “Babies are a lot of work.”

Even in his pain, he picks up on the unspoken question in her voice. He softens. He wants to sit up so he can look at her, but his back protests. Instead, he reaches blindly for her hand.

“C’mere.”

There’s a reluctant pause, and then she’s standing beside him, slipping her fingers into his.

“I know I haven’t been, uh…great…lately. M’sorry.”

She shrugs, biting at her lower lip.

“Truth is…I was just gettin’ used to the idea of bein’ your dad, and now with the baby…”

He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“It’s a lot. An’ I know it’s prob’ly a lot for you, too.”

Her voice is too light, like she’s trying to cover something up. “You’ll have a real kid soon.”

He frowns and gives her an experimental pinch between her thumb and index finger. “Dunno. You feel pretty real to me.”

“You know what I mean,” she says softly, and he feels it in his heart, a twinge more powerful than any back spasm. He grips her fingers tighter.

“It’ll be different for a while…and yeah, I’m not gonna get much sleep. Prob’ly be…distracted. But it’s still you and me, kid,” he says. “An’ I’m always gonna be here.”

His back takes that moment to seize up again and he hisses. “Shit, sorry.”

She sighs, but there’s a smile in it. “At this rate, you’re always gonna be here on the couch .”

“What’d you need, anyway?” he groans, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, a hammer.”

“What for?”

“Cat found me this new poster, was gonna hang it in my room.”

“There’s one in my toolbox; s’by the door,” he says. “Just put it back when you’re done.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re not gonna hurt yourself again, are you? Your girlfriend’ll have my ass.”

His answering glare has no effect and she leaves him, laughing.

Charlie returns with the pills a few minutes later, and he swallows two of them eagerly before she can fetch a glass of water. Then he hears her rummaging around up in the bedroom. She comes back with a heating pad.

“Found it at the post,” she explains. “Your kid is killing my hips. Lift up.”

Your kid.

He frowns. “I don’t need—“

“Spare me,” she sighs. “Lift up.”

So he does, still grumbling, and she slides the pad under his lower back and plugs the cord into the wall. It’s instantly warm, oozing heat up his spine, and the muscles slowly start to unwind. He can’t hold back a groan of relief.

“It’s the bed, isn’t it?” she sighs, easing herself into the armchair.

“No,” he says too quickly. “Strained it at work. Tommy’s got us workin’ doubles to get the new barns up.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe you should consider moving back into your room.”

“Not kickin’ you out,” he scoffs.

“I’d stay there, too.”

He side-eyes her. “No playin’ house, remember?”

“I think we might have crossed that line already,” she murmurs, quirking her lips.

Then she’s up and doing something in the kitchen, and Joel tries to focus on letting the heat work its magic. He knows the muscle relaxant has kicked in when he can roll over slightly and it doesn’t make his back seize. He tries to sit up, but Charlie is instantly at his side, holding him down by the shoulders.

“Gotta work,” he mutters weakly.

“Nuh-uh. I already told Tommy you’re out of commission,” she says.

“The hell’d you do–”

“You’re not good at letting people take care of you, are you?”

He grunts. “Says you .”

“Yeah, we have that in common. Not so much fun on the other side, huh?” she murmurs.

She plunks down a mug of coffee, a glass of juice, and a plate of eggs and toast on the table next to him, then puts a DVD in the player and hands him the remote.

“Stay,” she commands. “I’m at the post all day, but I’ll bring you lunch on my break. You’d better be horizontal when I get back.”

He wants to complain, but the pills have made him slow, and she’s out the door before he can think of a response.

The coffee is black and strong, just the way he likes it. The juice is awful–it’s green, some combination of things from the garden–but he chokes it down anyway, thinking of Sarah and her vitamins.

And then he passes out because he forgot that taking muscle relaxants on an empty stomach will do that. He wakes a few hours later, mouth dry and tasting of that awful juice, to find a paper bag and a note from Charlie have replaced the food and drinks on the table.

It’s a sandwich. Take another dose if you need it. I’ll be home by 6.

He’s pleasantly surprised to find he can sit up. Sure, the noise he makes in the process is unflattering, and he’s not going to be doing cartwheels anytime soon, but it’s an improvement.

This time, he eats the sandwich before he takes the second dose and manages to stay awake until Charlie gets home, but his head swims and he barely makes it halfway through their nightly movie. He wakes to her tugging gently on his hand.

“Come to bed.”

He’s too tired to protest. He lets her lead him to his bedroom, lets her pull back the covers and tuck him into bed, lets her wrap her body around his.

“You just wanna take advantage of me,” he slurs lightly into her hair.

She snorts a laugh. “Yes, Joel. This was my grand plan. For you to knock me up and throw your back out so I could keep you as my sex slave.”

“Mmmff. Knew it.”

“Go to sleep, old man,” she murmurs, nuzzling into his chest until he can feel her smile against his skin.

Sometimes Charlie is so distant, it’s like she isn’t there at all. She stares into space and he has to say her name four or five times before she hears him. Sometimes he has to physically touch her to bring her back, and then she looks at him as though he’s a stranger.

After the second or third time, he recognizes it as the disassociation of grief. He lost days of his life after Sarah was taken from him, days where he existed in body only, when Tess or Tommy would have to pull him back from the edge of a deep, dark pit. He’d wake up unable to remember how he’d gotten to bed or find himself in the middle of a fight with no idea how he’d gotten there. It might have scared him if he thought he had something to lose.

Those are the nights she needs him.

He knows he should turn her away. He knows he’s using her as much as she’s using him. But she comes alive when they’re together, and he tells himself it helps, and maybe it does.

He takes half as many showers.

Tonight, she arches back into him as he thrusts into her on her side from behind, curled around her body, heady with the feeling of being surrounded by her, all soft skin and warmth. She’s murmuring into his palm, slicking her tongue around his fingers, sucking them into her wet mouth and humming. His other hand rubs flutter-like circles against her clit the way he knows she likes.

She’s three orgasms deep and still hungry, panting and pleading, more, there, so close, please .

And then she comes hard, clenching around him and wrenching a hoarse name from her throat.

Not his name.

It barely registers until she’s scrambling away to sit at the edge of the bed, still trembling from the aftershocks, pulling the sheet across her naked chest.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry,” she gasps.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, reaching out to pull her back against him, but she jerks away from his touch.

“Fuck,” she grits out, followed by a low, keening sob. “Shit. Fuck.”

Some part of him has always known; the way her eyes clamp shut at the critical moment, the way she positions him and guides him and takes and takes and takes, the way she asks to forget, to pretend. Joel knows it’s foolish to think she needed him and not just the idea of him: a warm body, a working cock and fingers and tongue.

“Charlie, it’s–”

Her muffled sob cracks something in his heart. Then she’s locking herself in the bathroom before he can find his feet.

Shit.

He gets out of bed and pulls on his boxers, goes to the closed door. “Charlie?”

“Go away.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dammit, I’m not…mad.”

Silence.

“I don’t care if you…if you need…if you…fuck,” he hisses. “Just talk t’me.”

Her voice is so faint it barely registers. “I can’t.”

“Okay, you don’t have to, but…can you at least open the door?”

“No.”

He makes a fist against the wall, gritting his teeth. Without a better idea, he turns and slides down the wall, pressing his back to the door.

I’m here , he thinks helplessly. Just tell me what to do.

Silence. And then…rustling, a soft grunt, until they’re back-to-back with the door between them. He hears the hitch of another muffled sob.

“I always…thought it would be him,” she whispers finally, voice thick. “That we’d do this together.”

He feels a familiar shameful flush. What can he say?

I’m sorry it happened the wrong way, at the wrong time, with the wrong person.

I’m sorry I’m not him.

But he’s not sorry at all. He’s a selfish asshole, so he doesn’t say anything.

“We wanted this so much. And sometimes it feels like a…a betrayal. Like I’m moving on…forgetting him.”

He swallows hard, thinking of Sarah, wondering if he might hold this child in his arms and feel that same gnawing guilt, like he doesn’t deserve to be whole again.

“I think he’d want you to be happy,” Joel says softly.

“I tell myself that, I do…but I don’t think I believe it. I don’t–”

More silence. He shifts his weight. The floor is cold and hard, digging into his ass. It can’t be good for her back.

“When we…started…you said…you needed to pretend,” he tries, tipping his head back against the door and closing his eyes. “I knew that goin’ into this. Knew I wasn’t, uh…I’m not–”

“I thought…I wanted…I don’t know,” she hiccups. “I don’t know anymore.”

“We…you don’t need to—”

“It hurts,” she grates out. “It h-hurts and I miss him and it’s not f-f-fucking fair.”

It’s not fucking fair .

What else is there to say?

“I know,” he whispers roughly. “I know.”

They sit like that until his ass is numb and her silence is too unnerving to bear.

“Come back to bed,” he says, defeated and not expecting her to answer. “Please.”

There’s a watery sigh on the other side of the door. Then he hears her moving, the slightest groan as she gets to her feet, and he eases himself off the floor. The door opens. She’s wrapped in a robe, one hand cradling her belly under the terrycloth, the bedsheet pooled at her feet.

Her eyes meet his, red-rimmed and hollow. He cups the back of her neck and pulls her into an embrace.

“S’alright,” he whispers when her tears wet his chest and she shudders against him. He sways like he used to when Sarah was little, rocking her back and forth until she quiets.

“Oh!”

She jumps suddenly, startling in his arms, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Swiping at her eyes, she grabs his hand, guiding it down her body until it’s resting just below her belly button. Her skin is warm and taut and smooth.

“What—“

Then he feels it, the tapping against his fingers, some tiny arm or elbow or foot poking at him from under her skin. She laughs through tears as the insistent little being seems to dance under their hands.

“Never been this strong before,” she whispers thickly.

Joel doesn’t trust himself to speak, pride warring with sadness in his chest. They stay like that for a long time, his hand on her stomach, new life roiling beneath his palm.

The baby should be able to hear them now, so at night, he reads out loud from a tattered copy of The Fellowship of the Ring , sitting up in their shared bed with a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. The reading was his idea, the choice of material was hers.

One hand holds the book, the other rests on Charlie’s stomach. She says she likes the sound of his voice, but most of the time, she’s asleep before he gets to the third page. At this rate, the kid will be twenty before they finish the first book in the trilogy.

Tonight, the baby–Coconut, he thinks–is particularly active, rolling and kicking against his hand. A particularly hard jab causes Charlie to jump, hissing a soft ouch under her breath, and he puts the book aside.

“Hey, kid, settle down,” he says, rubbing at the squirming lump. “Let your mama sleep.”

This earns him another pointed jab; the kid is all attitude.

“Mmm,” Charlie mutters. “I know what’d help me sleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm,” she stretches, arching her back, and he can see the outline of one dark nipple through her bra.

“Again?” he murmurs, sliding a hand up to cup her breast and rolling it gently through the fabric. “Already?”

She sighs at the contact. “Mmm. Please?”

He tosses his glasses on the nightstand, more than happy to abandon the book, and curls around her, nuzzling her neck. “‘Fraid I’m not going to be much help with, uh…y’know.”

Not for the first time, he wishes he was about fifteen years younger. Even then, he’s not sure he could keep up with her. He wonders if she was always like this, or if it’s the pregnancy. He wonders if he’ll get to find out.

They don’t talk about this, or what will happen after the baby comes. They go to her midwife appointments together and Joel grinds his teeth through every second, but he stays by her side. Sometimes she holds his hand, and when she kisses him, she does so with the full force of her being. But just like the baby, their relationship doesn’t have a name.

She guides his hand between her legs, under her panties, finding her slick and swollen. She gives a contented little hum of pleasure when his finger traces her seam. “I’m sure you can figure something out.”

He huffs a breath into her nape, kisses the spot where the soft, downy hairs tickle against his nose, and strokes her the way she likes, circling and tapping until she’s arching against him. She comes almost immediately, fluttering and pulsing against his fingertips. A little one.

“More?” he murmurs, gentling his touch as her breathing calms.

“Mmhm, please.”

Her clit is a hard, slick little pebble under his fingers. He draws her orgasm from her more slowly this time, teasing, building her up until her climax is a growl sprung from the depths of her throat and her thighs clench his hand in a vise. He cups her sex gently and trails kisses along her neck, her throat, her shoulder as she rides it out, whispers into the shell of her ear, “More?”

Charlie reaches back and threads her fingers into his hair in answer, pulling him tighter against her, and he breathes her in, sweat and soap and something uniquely her. It drives him crazy, makes him feel feral and protective and alive. She turns her head, seeking his mouth, and he obliges, tongue parting her lips and tasting her as she hums and shivers and writhes against his hand, don’t stop please don’t please don’t stop .

“I got you,” he murmurs against her lips in between kisses, fingers circling and circling until his wrist aches. He can feel the baby roll and kick under his forearm, feels her fingers gripping him there. He loves watching her like this, loves the way her back arches and jaw goes slack with pleasure, the sounds she makes when she comes.

And then she does, coming undone in his arms with a throaty moan, shuddering and keening in a way that makes his cock twitch.

“Better?” he murmurs, finally pulling his hand away and groping for the blanket they’d tossed aside.

“Much,” she sighs, relinquishing herself to his warmth. “You sure you don’t want me to…”

“M’fine,” he says, wrapping an arm around her belly, which has gone mostly still. “Kid calmed down.”

“Yeah. S’the hormones,” she murmurs drowsily. “Oxytocin.”

“They can feel that, huh?”

“Mmhm,” she says. “They can feel everything.”

“...everything?”

“Don’t make it weird,” she murmurs, and he can feel her smirking against his arm. “Read to us?”

Us . They’re slowly bending all the rules, he thinks.

He groans. “Thought you were goin’ to sleep.”

“I am, but I like your voice.”

“Uh huh. Damnit, lost my place,” he grumbles, grabbing for the hefty paperback. “Never find it again, damn book is six-thousand pages long. Thought this’d have dragons, so far they’re just describing’ stuff and yackin’.”

“It’s Tolkien,” she yawns. “It’s a classic.”

“Buncha elves and gnomes and shit,” he mutters. “This Dildo Baggins character sounds like a porn star.”

“They’re hobbits,” Charlie laughs and pokes him in the thigh. “And it’s ‘Bilbo’, you grouch.”

He squints. “Right, need my glasses. Tiny print.”

Charlie snickers, something about old eyes , and burrows deeper into the covers as he finally finds his reading glasses and his place.

He doesn’t make it two pages before he hears her snore.

They’ve kept up the movie night routine even though there’s no good reason for Charlie to stay off her feet. They’ve rented the last of the action flicks from the library, so now they’re working through television shows and sitcoms. Some unlucky soul from the time before left behind a sizeable collection of M*A*S*H episodes on tape, so Charlie often falls asleep to the sounds of Hawkeye’s sarcastic drawl.

They’re on the couch in their usual spots, her with a bowl of homemade strawberry ice cream perched on her belly, him with a beer. The ice cream is the only thing she craves–strawberry preserves mixed with cream and sugar, then frozen and scooped into a bowl. Joel makes a new batch every other night before they go to bed. They’re going through Maria’s summer preserves like crazy, and he’ll be doing work on the community greenhouses for the rest of his fucking life at this rate.

But it’s worth it, he thinks, as she takes another bite of the rich, creamy concoction, licking the spoon clean with her strawberry-pink tongue. She’s a fucking distraction. The laugh track is going off in the background, but with every bite, her eyes roll back and her lashes flutter, and he wants to take that spoon out of her mouth and–

He adjusts himself, forces his eyes back to the screen, takes another sip of his beer. Jesus .

A few minutes later the bowl is licked clean, and a well-placed kick from the baby sends it rocking, tumbling into her lap.

“Apparently we demand more,” Charlie laughs.

“Kid’s gonna come out lookin’ like a strawberry,” Joel mutters.

She smiles. “Baby wants what it wants.”

The phrase triggers a memory, and he chuckles. “With Sarah, it was mangoes.”

Sarah’s mom, sitting at the kitchen table in their tiny one-bedroom, devouring the fruit straight from the rind, sticky juice coating her fingers, running down her chin.

Baby wants what it wants , she’d said, and then he’d kissed her, lips syrupy sweet.

He doesn’t remember if he loved her–there was no room for love to grow, really. Not enough time, not enough money, not enough maturity between the two of them. But they’d made Sarah, and he’d loved his baby girl enough to make up for the rest.

“Who’s Sarah?”

Charlie snaps him out of his reverie. She’s looking at him curiously.

Oh.

He reaches for the remote, pausing the show, and the silence around them has weight, he can feel it pressing against his chest. He coughs, clears his throat, tries to figure out how to start.

“She was, uh…my daughter. Before.”

She blinks at him, wide-eyed, her question a small, breathless whisper. “You had a daughter?”

He ducks his head. “Yeah. She, uh…was killed on Outbreak Day. She’d be about your age now. Little younger, I guess.”

Her eyes are so bright, they almost glow.

“Her mom…my ex…liked mangoes,” he explains. “When she was pregnant. Couldn’t keep enough of ‘em in the house.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Didn’t know you liked mangoes,” he says weakly, trying for a joke. She doesn’t smile.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to hide it. It never felt like a good time, and it’s…I didn’t want you to feel like I was…replacin’ something.”

She looks around then as if seeking some kind of clue, something obvious she might have missed. There are no photos of Sarah on the mantle, no drawings or keepsakes to indicate he’d been a father before Ellie–only the broken watch on his wrist. He holds it out to her, the shattered glass face shimmering in the light of the TV screen.

“She gave me this for my birthday,” he says, and the words stick in his throat. “It’s…all I have.”

“And her name was Sarah?” she says in a small, tight voice.

His smile is sad. “Go figure, huh?”

Her lip quivers. “Joel…”

She sets the bowl aside and starts to get up, the bulk of her belly and gravity working against her.

“Don’t–” he starts, but she makes it to her feet before he can protest.

Then she’s standing between his knees and cradling his face in her hands. There are tears in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She cries at everything now, but that doesn’t explain why he wants to cry, too.

He wants to say something reassuring, to set her at ease, but his tongue is thick in his mouth and it hurts like it does sometimes, like the wound is fresh and raw and new all over again.

“I can’t,” he says thickly, pleading. “Not…right now. Not yet.”

She nods slowly, kisses his forehead with something like love, and cradles him against her. Her warm, full belly presses against his chest, against his heart, and he hates that it soothes the ache. It’s too much like forgetting.

Her whisper at his temple is a balm.

“One day at a time.”

#fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #pregnancy #babyfic

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lurkingshan · 1 year ago

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Breaking Down the I Feel You Linger in the Air Finale

Okay pals, I got some sleep and I'm ready to dig into this finale and all its beautiful messiness. I love this show and I'm frankly a little frustrated that we got such an incomplete resolution to the (hopefully) first season when there was ample time to do it right. As ever, pacing and time and information management continue to be major weaknesses for Tee Bundit. As I said last week, the writing for this show has been undeniably messy but it's still holding together on the strength of the production and the performances and the success of some of its big themes and character arcs; that take held firm through the finale and some of the baffling choices made about where to spend our time in this final installment. So, let's dig into it!

The Long Goodbye

I'll say upfront that this is my biggest beef with the pacing of the finale. We spent all of last week on a long and painful goodbye for Yai and Jom, perfectly executed, but for some reason we did another 45 minutes of it this week, not so perfectly executed. While I loved the covering of the mirrors, the saddest sex scene ever (complete with sex moans running as the audio over a memory montage how dare you show!), and the pain of Yai realizing he drew the final picture and watching Jom disappear, we didn't need to retread them saying goodbye to each other over and over again for two entire hours of story time, and we didn't need a long, sappy, on the nose speech from Jom saying things we already knew. As I told @neuroticbookworm, this might be my aro showing but I found the series of repetitive emotional goodbye conversations and memory montages exhausting and not in a good way. If I were the script doctor, I would have kept the mirrors, sad sex, and Yai drawing as the start of the episode and cut the rest, moving much more quickly into the next phase of the story.

Back to the Future

Jom returning to his present day life, trying to cope with his anguish and loneliness and adjust back into things, and further investigating the time travel mystery to figure out a way to reconnect with Yai should have been the main narrative of this episode. Instead, we got a truncated version of it that didn't have time to breath because we'd used up so much time on the above mentioned retread. For my money, Jom's devastation upon finding Yai's letter to him was the most emotionally resonant moment of the finale and the first part of the episode where I almost cried. But we had barely sunk into that feeling before it was abruptly cut short because we were out of time and Tee needed to wrap this baby up.

Eyebrow Scar Yai

Here’s where I get actually kind of peeved, because this final (pre-credits) scene was so poorly set up and executed that to even call it a resolution is a stretch. A modern version of Yai walks into the room, asks Jom why he's crying, tells him he's been waiting for him, kisses him, and then the credits roll!

Now I've been in the tags so I know this caused confusion for anyone who has not read the novel (me too, fam!). And that's because the show had not bothered to establish:

That Yai does in fact have a modern doppelgänger

Who the heck that doppelgänger is and how he’s connected to 1928 Yai

How that doppelgänger would be able to remember Jom when no other doppelgängers in the story can remember their past lives

Based on what we know, could we piece together a reasonable theory about who this man is, how he got there, and the final pieces of the mythology that make sense of it? Sure. In fact, bookworm and I pretty much guessed exactly what the explanation for this was after watching the show, and many of the elements at play here were theorized in conversations we had last week. Book readers like @tipsyjaehyun have now confirmed the full explanation for anyone who cares to go read it.

But the show did not tell us any of this information. If you have to read the novel or have novel readers spoil you on aspects of the story that the show didn't bother to cover in order to understand the ending of the story, the execution has failed. And given the pacing notes above, there is really no reason we couldn't have gotten a better set up for this ending with Eyebrow Scar Yai (yes I know his name but no I'm not using it because the show didn't bother telling me; I am petty like that). Jom could have found this descendant during his time of processing and the ending could have hinged on us realizing this modern Yai is a reincarnation who has his past life memories intact; had we gone into a final kiss between them feeling grounded in all of that knowledge, it would have landed so much better.

Hello Commander

And now on to the post-credits scene, where Tee puts a plea into the universe to give him a second season so he can play around in another time period and explore what is evidently the origin of this soul tie between Jom and Yai. I chose to read this episode tag as separate from the actual season 1 narrative, and I think that was the intention given its placement. If they secure funding for a second season, this tag scene becomes the beginning of that next story, with Eyebrow Scar Yai's kiss sending Jom into another time travel adventure. If they don't we can just ignore it and pretend the pre-credits scene was the end (which is why I'm not happy it was so poorly done). I, for one, would love to see a second season to explore another time period and give Tee a chance to clean up some of this mess he has made of the mythology and season 1 resolution. Shouts to @clairedaring for reporting back from the live showing of the finale on what the possibilities are looking like there. Fingers crossed we get a continuation of this story some day!

Tagging in @waitmyturtles and @twig-tea who also have linked posts above. And shouts to @blmpff @cankersoregirl @pharawee @wanderlust-in-my-soul @italianpersonwithashippersheart @bengiyo @dragonsareawesome123 @wen-kexing-apologist @junghaesin @stuffnonsenseandotherthings @slayerkitty @respectthepetty @chickenstrangers @sunshinechay @btwinlines for posting about this show every week and making it such a fun watch despite having a small audience on here. It was a pleasure watching this with you all!

#i feel you linger in the air #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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alexanderwales · 9 months ago

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Book Review: Metropolitan Man

[content warning: sexual violence]

It's been 10 years since I wrote Metropolitan Man, and last night I read it for the first time in almost that long. Since writing it, I've written over 4 million words, and hopefully, grown as a writer. I've also forgotten parts of the story, so was looking at it with as fresh of eyes as possible. These are my overall thoughts.

I should say, before I start, that I've read tons of comments and discussion on this story over the years. I don't know how many of these thoughts are my own, or how much I've internalized things that people have said.

Writing Style

There were lots of changes I thought about making while reading, but people hate change, and this story is about ten years past when I wanted to be making editing passes on it. In many places I kept thinking of little extras I would add, things that would make the dialogue pop a little more, or provide characterization. I had this idea for a line where I describe Lois typing out two letters like she was letting loose with both barrels of a shotgun. There's dialogue to clean just a bit more, a few places where words are repeated or something is just a bit awkward, and where it could have been tighter or more clear.

The biggest thing that stood out to me was how little time got spent on scene setting and how short some of the snippets were, just five paragraphs to get a scene across before we're onto the next thing. I might have webserial brainrot, but those are definitely places where today I would give a little more breathing room and maybe use the same amount of words to describe something in a more oblique and stronger way. One that stood out as a clear example was a private investigator going home with Jimmy Olsen even though she was done pumping him for information, which could have been twice as long and benefitted from it. Another was a brief little thing about a Superman spotter on the roof, where I'd now describe everything he was doing, and only get to the conclusion of "he was a Superman spotter" at the end of the section to let the reader have this mini mystery of what they're being shown and why.

I would describe things more if I was writing this today, trying to get those nicely tight and evocative descriptions and ditch the stuff like "she wore a white blouse", but I often feel that way about stuff that I'm revising from last week, so it's not surprising.

The plot is very tight, which is good. I tend to prefer my plots tight, but it takes work, and webserials aren't conducive to it because it's difficult to know when you're writing a scene whether it's really pulling its weight as far as moving things forward. The initial idea for MM was to move as cleanly as possible through a series of events: Superman -> Superman is invincible -> Superman is Clark Kent -> Clark Kent grew up in Smallville -> the ship is in Smallville -> the ship has a Kryptonite power source -> Kryptonite can kill Superman -> Superman is dead. The only thing that would make it any faster would be if we dropped the Lois Lane subplot, but that's like half the novel.

Superman is OOC

I've gotten tons and tons of comments on this story over the years. If I hated myself, I would go back through my email and count them up, but there are some death threats and "kill yourself"s in there, and I prefer not to reread them. The major thing that people hate is the ending, which I don't care to talk about, but the other major thing is that Superman isn't Superman.

In this, I largely agree, but then, I'm pretty sure I've always agreed. That said, Superman has had a ton of interpretations over the years, and there's a wide range of acceptable behavior from "a Superman", even if we're not counting the really out there variations like Red Son or some of the alternate timelines.

... but I still would probably make him more like a canon Superman if I had to do it all over.

There are a few things that raise red flags at the beginning, which is where I think they're inexpertly placed. Superman takes Lois off the roof and flies her around, making her very afraid, and this is fine, I think, a misunderstanding that might be stronger if we got his insight into what was happening before we got hers to help bridge some of the disconnect there and characterize them both better. But there's a little note after that, where Clark makes a joke about "Superman's girlfriend Lois Lane" that I think is a HUGE red flag, and which probably comes too early in the story. It would be better as a joke someone else made that Clark laughs along with, which raises the red flag to half mast.

The other major moment I would change is when the bombs start going off. Superman pulls back, unsure whether he's actually immune to mustard gas, and I think this is one of the moments that most goes against the character of Superman. Canon Superman would just say "welp, guess I gotta find out whether I'm immune to mustard gas in a hurry". Superman making the argument that he doesn't know the bounds of his powers and so should exercise caution reads as either cowardice or as him being way too bitten by the rationality bug.

This would then obviously have to change the plot of that section a bit, because in the novel as it stands right now, Superman is convinced by Lois Lane that he can't just sit on the sidelines for game theory reasons. Better to either scrap that section or have Lois convince Superman that for game theory reasons he should offer to have testing carried out against him in a way that doesn't harm civilians, which canon Superman might submit to if it saved lives. Then the rest of the plot can proceed as normal, because Superman is immune to everything and that's the whole plot beat anyway.

I'd definitely clean up some of Superman/Clark's dialogue to nail the character voice better, but I don't think it's that bad, and it's mostly a few places where the wording is off. I think in particular the points where he's feeling anger go too far, and are not how someone internally conflicted about the anger might talk.

And then, oh yeah, Superman punches a guy's head clean off, which I think is the biggest sticking point for most people.

I've thought about that scene a lot. I personally like it. But if I were ever trying to sell this story to DC, it's one of the things I would almost certainly change. Superman doesn't kill, except in that one movie that came out just before this story was published where Superman snapped a guy's neck.

The change I am most happy/comfortable with is that Whitman, the governor whose children were [REDACTED], is the one to kill Calhoun. This happens just outside the courthouse with Superman watching and not intervening in the slightest, or maybe catching the bullets as they go through Calhoun so no bypassers get hit.

I don't know, as I type it out, it doesn't have the same weight to it. It's not cool. It's not a watershed moment. Maybe there's a plot thread to pull there, where Superman has tacitly endorsed other vigilantes, and it would be a great time to pull in other mundane street-level heroes ... but that's an entirely different story at that point.

Another option is for Superman to simply fly off with Calhoun and put him away, but that lacks punch too, and gets talky, and ... it's about the rage, right? The feeling of injustice, not just at Calhoun, but at the entire world, and it's not just an unhappy side effect that there's blood everywhere, all over the clamoring press, that's part of the point.

Social Justice

I really enjoy how wide-ranging the novel is, and how many things it touches on. Good job me. There was a line I had completely forgotten about where Lois asks "Why doesn't Superman stop abortions?" that I had completely forgotten I had ever written, and which brought a big smile to my face (but no wonder some Superman fans hate this story).

There are a few other things that I raise my eyebrow at a little bit, at least sitting here in 2024. There's a particular line that Superman gives when talking about this whitewashed mural of the past they're walking by, and he says "It's easy to forget that slavery ever happened, you know?" Now, I will grant you that this is a part of a conversation where he's saying that maybe he should have been a better student of history, and is saying this as a white guy in 1934, but I wanted him or someone else to tear that statement apart. It never really happens.

"It's easy to forget that slavery ever happened [if you and your people have not been affected by slavery]". The novel takes place ~70 years after the end of the Civil War, which means that when Clark was growing up there would have been freed slaves who were in their fifties, probably many of them in Kansas, though Smallville is (notably) small. I don't know, it wouldn't have been historically accurate for them to have a discussion of privilege, but there's way more meat on that bone, and it's all left as subtext.

Also probably the case that if I were writing it now, I would pay more attention to race in general, but that I'm less sure on, because it would mean some major structural changes to be done well. There's a single black guy in the whole thing, who is barely a character and has no speaking lines: the farmhand Ma Kent has before he gets lured away with the promise of being an actor. I have never felt that any novel needs racial balance to it, but if you're going to be talking about slavery and whether Superman would have done anything about it, you start to make black people look like props, which is not a good look.

I mean look, I think it's fine for a given story to not actually take a stance on political issues or have a diverse cast, but this story goes from abortion to the Equal Rights Amendment to Prohibition to Nazis to the death penalty, and then despite being set in 1934 sort of talks around the subject of how shitty race relations were. As a white guy, I never feel comfortable talking about race, but I think it would have been appropriate to have here in more than the cursory way it was handled. But the cast is just not that large, and the way that modern Superman stories handle that is usually making Jimmy Olsen black and then not actually talking about the fact that he's black so it's just a palette swap, which I don't think would work here, especially since Jimmy is such a bit character, and also it's 1934.

Sexual Violence

Alright, I will say it: there's too much sexual violence.

Chapter 7 is when the two Whitman kids get kidnapped. Their driver gets his throat slit, the boy gets dismembered, and the girl gets raped. I knew it was coming and I was still horrified by it.

I would not remove this part. I would foreshadow it better with a few scenes with Calhoun, the brutes, etc., and I might change some of the details to be a bit less awful and gruesome, but I don't think I would remove it. There are a few core ideas here that I think all work:

The better class of criminal has left the city now, and all that are left are the worst of the worst, the people who will not respond to incentives or symbols or rational thought.

If you cannot strike at Superman's physical self, you strike at his mind instead, and one of the ways to do that is psychic damage. In Calhoun's case, this is irrational, a pure desire to hurt Superman in any way possible while his empire collapses.

The amount of evil in the world is enormous. The pain and suffering cannot be comprehended. I love what Superman says, that this isn't really unique, that these things happen to children all the time. He's upset about not being able to save them, but they're a drop in the bucket.

I think you have to be careful with sexual violence, whether it's depicted or hinted at or just briefly mentioned. There are tons of people who are not on board with that in their media, and even of those who are on board, it has to be handled carefully and can feel very cheap, as though you're just going to the worst and most transgressive thing you can think of for the shock value. People will see it as lazy and trivializing and making entertainment out of this horrible thing.

I think the world is shit. I think terrible things happen. I have always felt both oppressed by the weight of evil in the world and powerless to stop it. I think that's the thing that I'm gesturing at here, and it feels weird to me that sexual violence would get put on a pedestal as the one thing too horrible to mention, even though we're mentioning all the most horrible things.

How do Superman comics and shows and movies deal with this? My impression is that they don't. Surely Superman must be stopping rapes from happening, but I cannot think of a single time I've seen it happen. I'm actually having trouble thinking of a time it was implied to happen. I think this is probably a good idea on the part of the people who make these bits of media, but it's absolutely not realistic if you're thinking about how Superman would operate in the "real world". Sexual violence happens, child abuse happens, and I guess we just sort of assume that these things are dealt with by Superman off-screen.

Though ... I mean it impacts the characters, right? Does Superman not have a trauma response? Does he have a superpower where he can bottle it all up? He's definitely too late to stop certain crimes, and he definitely can't make things better for some of the victims, and I guess in the comics when he shows up to a burning building he generally has a 100% success rate and people come out with only minor injuries, but ... alright, this is definitely the sort of thing that led me to write this fic in the first place.

It's a question that the fic doesn't have an answer for: how do you go on living when you know that there's so much evil in the world?

I think dialing that particular scene back is, maybe, fine. But it's the sort of thing that would feel like I was being less authentic in a way, as though I wanted to grapple with the big questions but not that one, wanted to consider ethics and morality but silo myself away from things that actually are on my mind. I see the point of blunting that scene, and I rebel against it because I don't want to be blunted, I want to be sharp.

I would, however, remove a lot of the earlier references, or blunt those, because they didn't need to be sharp. There are, before the Whitman stuff, about five references to sexual violence, and maybe even just using "sexual violence" would be enough, rather than "rape". One of these references is to what crimes Superman is statistically most likely to stop, another is to a plot to besmirch his name, both can be massaged or they can go.

I don't know if I think about these things differently because time has passed or I've had a bunch of discussions about these issues, or whether it's just having the outside view. It's weird to think about what a conversation with myself would look like, if we were working on the story together.

Retrospective

I understand why Superman fans sometimes hate this story. There's the Superman OOC stuff, sure, but there are also a lot of questions about Superman that apply to canon equally well, and people hate that. Superman is a fantasy, maybe the ultimate comic book fantasy. He stops crimes and bullets bounce off him! You're not supposed to think about his stance on abortion rights. You're not supposed to look at the Clark Kent mask and say 'huh, that's strange'. I mean it's media, you can do whatever the hell you want, but if Superman is a fantasy, then there are a lot of questions that are fantasy-ruining.

I stand by the story as written about 80%, which is higher than I thought it would be, though there are certain things that I stand by more than others. There are certain structural changes and many line-by-line changes, and I'm glad that I didn't have the story open in edit mode, because it would have taken me three times as long to read and when I hit "save changes" people would grumble about archives or bad changes or whatever, because you can't please people.

About five years ago, I started writing A Common Sense Guide to Doing the Most Good, which was meant as a companion piece to MM. It ended up being all mechanics, no plot, and the plot that I wanted it to have was divorced from the center questions it wanted to answer. It didn't feel as grand, I guess, and the cats were out of their bags a little too quickly.

One of the Answers that MM gives is that the thing you should do in the face of overwhelming evil is to grind relentlessly, grind until your bones are scraping the grindstone and there's nothing left of yourself. The story does not believe this answer, but it's one of the places I ended up ten years ago, and am still sort of at now. The other answer is to live as best you can, be aware of the evil and do what you can against it without letting the idea of it (or the battle against it) consume your soul.

When I was finished reading, I kind of wanted to write an uncritical Superman comic. Something where Superman can be as his most loyal fans see him, someone who is Good and doesn't often have to grapple with what Good means, where the thorny edges of moral quandaries never come to light and the hero is always there in the nick of time. Where Clark Kent is a bold and noble expression of humanity rather than a deception and a mask. Maybe I will go do that.

#fanfic #metropolitan man #book review #reviews

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puffyducks · 4 months ago

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DCRC Week #20 (Part 1)

Guys how has it already been 20 whole weeks time isn't real. Anyways speaking of, we're reading PKNA #16: Extraordinary Repairs which is a huge deal cause it means that after waiting 20 whole weeks I CAN FINALLY DOXX CAMERA 9'S FULL LEGAL NAME AND ADDRESS!!! IT'S S-

Okay FINE I guess I'll wait to say his name until we actually get to the right part in this post. And idk why I've even prevented myself from saying his real name in front of my friends that are going through this series for the first time cause it's not even like a secret or revelation, they literally tell you his name at the end of Day of the Cold Sun in his character sheet, but nobody reading the English fan translations would know that because nobody has uploaded translated versions of the character sheets (yet...) ANYWAYS

Just as a heads up to anyone who is reading this comic for the first time, the English translating here is a little scuffed (I assume whoever translated this chapter wasn't a native English speaker) so there are occasional grammatical mistakes but nothing too severe that it limits the effect of the story!

Angus I can PROMISE you do not want to start doing research into Everett Ducklair, do you know how many fuckin doomsday weapons he kept "accidentally" making??? You don't want the smoke.

What kind of fucking idiot steps into an elevator shaft without stopping to see if the elevator is ACTUALLY THERE omfg I hope he hits the bottom and dies

GUYS HE SAID THE- HE SAID THE TITLE OF THE CHAPTER!!!

ALSO HDL MENTION 🔥🔥🔥

guys.... there he is.... the man of the hour

shoutout to the way the other guy is drawn in this panel btw (his ears fell off I guess)

OHOHOHO TRENCHCOAT REVEAL!!! GUYS I AM GIDDY AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY I JUST THINK HE'S NEAT

HE SAID THE THING

why he ourple

OHHH YEAHHH IT'S YA BOI STEFAN MOTHAFUCKIN VLADUCK!!! Who appears to be constantly having a series of PTSD-related war flashbacks but ummm let's not worry about that right now

It's really interesting to me that Donald is a fan of Stefan's work. I mean media was obviously different in the 90s but still, when's the last time you heard someone bring up their favorite photographer? Either Stefan is FAMOUS famous or Donald is one of like 10 people that like to read the credits under newspaper photos.

This panel makes me laugh cause out of context it looks like Stefan is running away from PK (on account of his huge torn up fucking evil looking cape) bro is literally FNAF 2 jumpscaring at him

I FUCKING TOLD YOU

Coolest character design of all time (literally just a duck in a trenchcoat)

What have you seen WHAT HAVE YOU SEEN. 200 page comic docuseries covering all of Stefan's horrifying past experiences NOW!!!!!

You're telling me Ducklair was in his basement building fuckin DINOSAURS??.... ok I can't lie that's cool as fuck good for him

So close except actually not close at all. Granted PK does hang out in Ducklair Tower all the time, but it's not like Angus knows that 😭

Love how much this laser gun just looks like a regular pistol

Me reading poorly written analysis posts of DT17 sorry

I love evil fucked up PK can we keep him like this actually

PAPERINIK MURDERS ANGUS FANGUS IN COLD BLOOD (REAL)

Nvm we just gave him a concussion. also hi Stefan 👋

Also we drugged him. Y'know just for good measure!

NO FUCKING WAY YOU GUYS EYEBALL REVEAL 🔥🔥🔥 HE HAS GREEN EYES. or at least one green eye... I guess he could have heterochromia or something whatever

btw this is the most we'll ever see of his face so SOAK IT IN FOLKS (at least, the most we'll see in PKNA, there's like one singular comic from 2016 that shows his entire face if you're curious. You can just google his name and the photos will come up.)

SHOUTOUT TO THE LITTLE CAMERA 9 END HERE IT'S SO SILLY.

I love this issue, Camera 9/Stefan is probably one of my favorite characters. He's just fuckin cool man idk what to tell you. He's fairly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things but I like having him around, he's a fun character to add as a little bit of flavor to a series with so many ongoing narratives. I do wanna highlight this bit of text from the bottom of his Paperpedia page (which has been auto-translated from Italian and might be a bit off):

I'm so incredibly intrigued by the analysis here because, if true, I wanna know whose idea it was to start referencing classical Luigi Pirandello literature in a Donald Duck comic. I'm not saying I don't want my duck comics to have commentary on media sensationalism and alienation, but I am saying that it's certainly unexpected. Still a welcome topic!

I used most of my image limit covering the main comic so I won't be able to add a lot about the bonus comic but I will say: WAHHH WAHHHH THIS IS THE LAST TRIP COMIC 😭😭😭 at least for a while anyways. There are the Trip's Strip comics but I haven't seen anyone translate those into English and they also start at like chapter 40 so

Is the Raider just fucking allergic to dressing normally like what's going on here. Also HAHA TRIP THOUGHT HIS DAD DIDN'T COME TO THE GAME BUT HE WAS ACTUALLY WATCHING THE WHOLE TIME, EVERYONE POINT AND LAUGH 🫵 YOUR DAD LOVES YOU HAHAHA LOSER

Goodbye Trip, my sweet summer child... my child who sucks so fucking bad. He's the worst I'm gonna miss him. And ummm see you later with more spooky Carl Barks!

#dcrc #dcrc week 20 #paperinik

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dragon-kazansky · 1 year ago

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Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

You were a member of Blackbeard's crew long ago. Then you became a ghost story. Izzy Hands only sees you in his dreams these days, until he sees you for real when investigating Stede Bonnet. This sets him on a rollercoaster of emotions between you and what his captain is doing.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Swearing. Mostly Izzy, sometimes you, but mostly Izzy. Angst too.

Chapter Five - Rocky waters

♡♡♡

We've been almost a fortnight aboard the Revenge... and I'm beginning to suspect that Edward nas no intention of ending Stede Bonnet's life.

If I didn't know better... I'd say he's somehow become seduced by this imbecile.

You catch Izzy writing in his journal as you walk past his cabin. He had been rather quiet the past couple days, at least as far as you were concerned anyway. He hasn't noticed you in the doorway. You smile at the sight of the wooden sparrow on his desk. You knew he would like it.

You know that the longer Izzy is aboard this ship, the worse it gets for him. You've kind of adapted to the way the crew do things round here. It's a change of pace from your days on Blackbeard's crew.

As Izzy scribbles away, you decide to interrupt gently. With a soft knock to his already open door, you smile as he lifts his head to look at you. He snaps his journal shut and drops it beside him on his cot.

"What do you want?" He asks, trying to look annoyed by your interruption, but you can see through him.

"Thought I'd come check on you. Everything good?"

"Just peachy," he let's out an exasperated sigh. You chuckles softly as step into the room with one foot.

"We'll be off this ship soon. Sailing back aboard the Queen Anne leaving ruin in our wake. Doing things we used to do."

Izzy stares silently into space at the thought.

You step a little closer to his bed and take a seat. You can see how tired he is. The man never seems to stop: always working, never resting.

"When was the last time you slept?" You ask him.

"Last night."

"All night?"

He eyes flicker up to meet yours. He looks less than impressed, but he also can't hide anything from you. The sigh that escapes his nose tells you enough.

"I know you hate it here, and that you want Blackbeard back so we can return to our ship and our life, but you also need to give it time, Izzy."

"It's been a fucking weeks."

"I know, but surely he has a plan. He's our Blackbeard."

"That's the problem," Izzy starts. "I don't think he's our Blackbeard anymore. I think he's been seduced by Bonnet."

"Seduced?"

"Last night... last night I was up on deck. I could hear them. They were... I'm pretty sure they were fucking."

"Out in the open?" You ask, wide eyed.

"Sounded like it."

"Ew, Izzy, why were you listening to them?"

"It wasn't on purpose!" He groans. "I think Edward might be... in love with this guy."

You fall silent as you think about it. It made sense in a way. Edward was always where Stede was. They kept in the same cabin. They talked constantly. They were always looking art each other.

"Well shit..."

"Exactly!" Izzy huffs.

"I mean... Is it that bad if he is?" You ask him.

Izzy stares at you. "Bad? It's a fucking disaster."

You gaze down at your lap. "He's the happiest I've seen him in ages."

"It's pathetic."

You glance up at Izzy. "Love? Or the fact you're losing Blackbeard to Bonnet?"

Izzy glares at you.

You stand up from his bed and move over to the door. You glance back at Izzy. "I would be so lucky to have what they do."

Izzy watches you leave. He stares confused at the space you occupied only moments ago. Your words and the expression on your face, it felt strange to him. What did you mean by that? Were you jealous of Edward? No, that was nonsense. Izzy knows you better than that.

Izzy thinks he knows you better than that.

♡♡♡

One of the crew's favourite things to do was tell stories. If it wasn't Stede reading them a fairytale, it was telling ghost stories.

It was entertaining, even if they didn't always make sense.

You were sat on the steps near where Izzy stood with Ivan and Fang. You could hear them talking behind you. You were watching Ed where he sat by Stede. The latter was telling one of his ghost stories.

"So, is the plan off?" Ivan asks.

"Yeah, I reckon we're not killing this guy now." Fang chimes in.

"The plan is very much alive." Izzy says. "He promised me."

You listen to them.

"It just seems that he's having an awfully nice time," Fang says, looking at Izzy. "I mean, look at him. He's telling ghost stories."

"This is the most open and available I've ever seen him." Ivan states.

You sigh and get up, walking last the crew and heading below deck. Izzy watches you go, not once looking away until you were out of sight.

♡♡♡

You're sitting in your dark little corner when you head footsteps coming toward you then stopping. You don't have to look up to know it's Izzy.

"You alright?" He asks.

"Yeah."

He sees the way you're sitting with your knees up, arms draped over them. You're not even looking at him. He sighs quietly.

"You're not. What is it?"

"Nothing, Izzy."

"You can talk to me, ya know."

You glance up at him. You can't read him for his blank expression. You're not sure what he is trying to do.

"What happens if Edward doesn't kill him?"

"Then I'll take matters into my own hands."

"Will Edward even let you?" You ask.

"Does it matter? We'll get our captain back and we can go back to our lives. We... we can be a crew again."

"We're not a crew now?" You gaze up at him.

"Not with this lot."

You turn your eyes away from him and Izzy exhales through his nose in a sound of slight desperation. He doesn't want you to turn away from him.

He says your name softly. "This isn't our home."

When you say nothing he clenches his jaw and walks away. You listen to his footsteps fade. When you're sure he's gone you sigh.

♡♡♡

You stand on deck the next morning as the ship is shrouded in fog. The crew of the Revenge have no idea what's going on, but you sailed with Blackbeard long enough to know.

A Fuckery, as he liked to call it.

You lean against the railing of the ship as you wait. Once Stede arrives, dressed in pretty pyjamas and gown, Edward demonstrates the art of "Fuckery", which leads to the Swede jumping over the side of the ship.

Ed promptly stops his theatrics so someone can get the Swede back onboard.

Izzy promptly comes out, looking up at Ed who is still hanging from the mast. "May I have a word?" He asks, grabbing at Blackbeard's boot.

"It's a bit like theatre, isn't it, Ed? Theatre of fear!"

"Ha, theatre of fear, love that!" Ed grins back at Stede.

"His name is Blackbeard, dog!"

"Well, I'll leave you to it. It looks like there's trouble in paradise." Stede walks off.

You stick around just long enough to see Izzy try and help Ed, but he gets fed up after being caught between his legs. Izzy storms off leaving Edward hanging.

Ed looks at you.

"Help?"

You shake your head and walk off too. He can get out of his own mess.

You follow Izzy to find him with Fang and Ivan. He looks at you as you get closer to him. There is something about the way he is looking at you that sends your heart thumping.

"Where's Blackbeard?" He asks.

"Hanging out."

Izzy doesn't react, but Fang giggles and Ivan grins.

"You with us?" Izzy asks.

"Izzy..."

"No. It's important that I know you're with us," he says. "You don't want to stay with this lot, do ya? You're so much more than they are. You're wasted on a crew like this." Izzy speaks softly, almost gentle. This isn't like him at all.

"Why is this suddenly about me?"

"I-"

Izzy is cut off by Edward entering. You turn around to see him looking less than impressed.

"You left me hanging." He looks at you with a flat expression. You don't even react. "What the fuck's all this?"

"Do you remember your policy about let's aboard your vessel?" Izzy asks.

"Pets? Yeah. No pets. They befoul the ship."

"You know what else you said?" Ivan asks. "You said the love of a pet makes a man weak."

"I said that?"

"Yeah, when I joined your crew, you made me put my dog down." Fang tells him.

"Yeah, OK. Well, yeah, vaguely... remember that."

"So, here's the rub. Me and the boys, we think you've begun to view Bonnet as a sort of a pet." Izzy says. "You're in too deep, Edward. Beat thing to do, end it quick."

"The longer you wait, the harder it gets..." Fang says, getting upset. Ivan holds Fang as he cries.

You stand between Izzy and Edward, not sure what to do. Edward walks off, making it a bit easier on you.

Izzy turns his eyes to you and then follows Edward out.

You look at Fang and step closer.

"There there, Fang. It's okay."

"He's in doggy heaven, Fangy," Ivan says, trying to comfort him.

"But we go to different heavens!" He cries some more. You pat him on the shoulder. Fang turns and pulls you into a hug.

You stay there awhile.

♡♡♡

You sit on Izzy's bed and wait for him. He takes a while to return, but when he does, he seems surprised to see you there.

"I was looking for you," he says.

You're sat on his bed with the wooden sparrow in your hand. You notice some detail has been added to it in ink, meaning Izzy is giving it some character. It made you happy to think this meant something to him.

"I've been in here."

Izzy watches the way you handle the gift you made him. You're being very careful with it, your finger tracing over the ink lines on the wing.

"You know I'm right," he says.

"Do I?"

Izzy closes the door to his cabin and stands in front of you, gazing down at you with his dark eyes.

"Bonnet has to go."

"Do you hate Edward being happy?" You ask

"No, I-"

"Because it seems like it," you cut him off. "Edward has found someone new. He's trying new things and kind of just enjoying life."

"We're pirates, we're not meant to enjoy life." Izzy hisses out.

"You didn't enjoy being on Blackbeard's crew?" You ask.

"Well, yeah."

"You don't enjoy sailing the seas?"

"Course I do-"

"You don't enjoy life?"

He falls quiet.

"Are you jealous that all of Edward's attention is on someone else, or are you jealous that he has something you don't?"

Izzy stares at you silently.

You put the bird back on the desk and stand up, looking Izzy in the eye. You want to say more, but you're not sure what. Izzy seems to read your mind.

"It will be over soon," he tells you. "Tomorrow night."

"Oh. So, that's it then?" You ask.

"Thought you'd be happy."

"Happy?" You huff. "You're the one who will be happy, Izzy."

"Don't tell me you're soft for Bonnet too," Izzy almost begs.

"I don't hate the guy like you do. He's actually kind of nice. He's kind, polite, funny if even unintentionally so."

"See, that's my point. He ain't a pirate."

"Izzy. Let the man live. He's doing his thing and he's still alive."

"Not on my watch," he says in a low voice.

You see the look in his eyes and you walk away. You're done trying to change his mind. This thing with Stede was between Izzy and Edward.

You weren't going to get involved.

♡♡♡

You walk into the kitchen to find Fang holding an unconscious Lucius down. Roach is sharpening a kitchen knife.

"The fuck?"

Fang looks up. "His finger is infected."

You lean over Lucius to see the state of his hand. His finger was horribly swollen. "Ouch."

"Seems to me the best move here is... amputation," Roach says, looking closely at the finger.

"Oh, for God's sake! He's a visual artist." Fang cries out. "You can't cut the boy's little fingies."

"Level with us, man." Pete grabs Roach. "There's no better option?"

"Not in my professional opinion."

You pull a face.

"Hold him down."

You sigh and help Fang hold the poor lad down. Just as Roach is about to cut the finger off, Lucius gains consciousness again. As soon as he realises what's happening he pushes both you and Fang away and runs off.

"It's only going to get worse!" You call. He's already too far gone.

You can't help but chuckle as Pete and Fang go after him.

This crew isn't so bad.

♡♡♡

The Fuckery goes about as expected. Except for the fact that the crew of the Revenge didn't raid the ship. They let themselves get boarded by the Dutch merchants and basically put on some kind of Shakespeare play.

It ended with Edward freaking out and hiding in Stede's bathtub.

Stede did not die.

Izzy was fuming. You stand beside the man seeing the way he was clenching his jaw. His fist was balled up and it took everything in you not to reach out and calm the man.

Edward was complimenting the crew on their performance.

Edward was enjoying himself.

Not anymore.

"Stede Bonnet."

You turn to look at Izzy. You curse under your breath. Yet, you shouldn't be surprised. Izzy did tell you he would take matters into his own hands.

"Draw your weapon."

"No, Izzy, we're not doing this." Ed points at him.

"No, YOU'RE not doin' this. So I must." Izzy steps down and grabs 2 swords. "Stede fuckin' Bonnet... I fuckin' challenge you to a fuckin' duel."

He tosses Stede a sword.you step in front of Izzy.

"Izzy, please."

"Move." He says your name softly.

"I accept your challenge," Stede says from behind you. You turn around.

"Stede, no."

"Stede, be careful. He does know his shit," Edward warns him.

Izzy uses his arm to move you out of the way. You glare at him as he steps closer to Stede.

"As do I. You've taught me well," Stede replies to Ed.

"Not that well," Ed admits.

Stede watches Izzy. "I assume standard duel rules apply. What are those exactly?" He asks.

"Let's make it interesting, shall we?" Izzy says. "The loser is banished from the ship, if they're not dead."

"Izzy, no!" You call out, but he ignores you. Instead he instantly swings his sword at Stede.

Stede manages to block his attacks

"Come on. Give a man a warning." Stede says as Izzy holds his sword up to his neck.

"That was your warning."

They start swinging their swords at each other. You stand there anxiously, watching. There is no way for Stede to beat Izzy. Israel Hands was the best man you knew with a sword.

Izzy gets a hit into Stede which stumbles the man backward. Izzy's swings become a little more furious. Stede falls onto the ground. Izzy stands over him with sword pointed down at him.

"Yield or die."

"I choose... this." Stede throws powder into Izzy's face, temporarily blinding the man. Izzy covers his face and stumbles backward. The crew cheer for Stede, but all you can think about is if you should step in or not.

Stede gets to his feet, he gives Izzy a smack on the backside with his sword. Izzy straightens up again and continues the fight.

Izzy disarmed Stede with ease. The gentleman pirate backs up against the mast.

"So, it looks like we've arrived, Bonnet. The end of the road." Izzy holds his sword up to Stede again.

"Alright. Let's call it a draw," Stede says, breathless.

"Nah, I'm good."

"Izzy, stop!" You try once more in vain, but it feels like he's ignoring you completely.

With a firm stab, Izzy's sword goes right through Stede's abdomen and into the mast, pinning him there.

You inhale sharply at Stede's scream.

"Did I do it right?" Stede asks Ed, looking at the other man. "He missed all the important bits..."

Izzy tries to pull the sword out, but to no avail. He pulls hard, grunting. You stare at him, mild confusion painting across your face.

"This mast... is made from the finest cherry wood in Brazil. It's rather strong, actually." Stede manages to say as Izzy continues to attempt to pull the sword out.

Edward looks flabbergasted.

You can't quite believe what you're seeing yourself.

"Shut up!" Izzy yells at Stede. "Don't you ever shut up?! You rancid rat!"

The sword breaks in Izzy's hand. The blade still pinning Stede to the mast. You feel a gasp escape last your lips.

Buttons laughs. "Well, now, Mr Hands. Reckon he's rendered your sword inoperable."

Izzy stands there with realisation on his face.

"By duelling tradition, that means..."

"Stede wins!" Frenchie yells. The crew all cheer. "In your face, Jizzy!"

Edward shrugs as Izzy looks at him.

You watch Izzy with concern. He walks off. You watch him. You don't care for what everyone else is doing. You take off after Izzy.

He disappears into his cabin, you follow him inside, not even knocking. He doesn't say anything to you about it as he faces away from you, shoulders tense.

"Izzy..."

"No." He speaks with a firmness, but not in an angry way. Just a firm 'no.'

"Izzy, please. That whole thing was stupid."

"You're telling me..."

You take a step closer to him hoping he will turn around and look at you. He remains facing the wall of his cabin.

"Just forget the duel! Forget everything."

"No. Rules are rules."

"Izzy..."

He turns around and looks at you, but only briefly. He looks like he struggles to look you in the eye.

"He promised me. I was fucking right all along. Edward's gone soft for that twat. Any trace of Blackbeard is gone and it's all because of fuckin' Bonnet."

Your arm twitches as if you were going to reach out and touch him, but you catch yourself. However, Izzy noticed the slight reaction in your hand. He kind of wished you would.

"Don't be stupid, Izzy. Stay. We'll figure all this out. Maybe there's another solution."

"No." He shakes his head, his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly. He's angry. Silently angry.

"It was a stupid fucking duel. Are you seriously going to leave?"

"I'm not a coward."

"I didn't say you were," your voice is almost pleading. "Don't go."

"Rules are rules," he says again. For a brief second his eyes meet yours and you can see all the emotion bottled up inside. You want to reach out and hold the man, caress him, get him to open up and talk to you.

But he won't.

Your breathing becomes uneven as you try to fight off any emotion. You will not cry in front of him.

"So that's it then? You're going to fuck off and... and what? Leave me behind? I only just found you again and you're leaving me?"

"You could come with me."

"And do what? Izzy, what would be the point? I only just found my way back home," you tell him.

"No. This isn't home. This is a lie. A facade. Home was back on our ship, back with Blackbeard's crew. Home is... is where we belonged. It's where we lived together."

A tear escapes and runs down your cheek. This was your breaking point.

"Fuck you," you whisper.

Izzy stares at you.

"Fuck you and this whole fucking thing." You take a couple slow steps back toward the door. "Fuck off then, Izzy. Leave me behind. Maybe... maybe I should have stayed a ghost story."

You don't hang around. You turn on your heel and leave.

Izzy catches his breath as he stares at his empty doorway.

"Fuck," he whispers.

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer -

#spirit of the sea #izzy hands x reader #ofmd #our flag means death #dragon writes

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