#why was this post in my drafts i meant to hit post on it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delusional-day-dreamer · 4 months ago

Text

New Year's Kiss - p.b

‣ paige bueckers x reader

‣ wc: 3567

‣‣ synopsis: you were known as one of the calmest, most well-tempered players on the ucon wbb roster. so what happens if you lose your cool for the first time in a game? takes place at the uconn vs notre dame game on dec 31, 2022: based off this post/req from my nonnie 🫶, and lowk inspired by paige's bloody nose at the uconn vs seton hall game!

‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys.... i'm so sorry for being so inactive but the writer's block hit me HARD. I have a few more drafts in progress I hope to release this week, thank y'all SO MUCH for the support and patience! Also, for the opponent in this game i refer to her solely as the, "marquette girl", as i don't know their players that well and don't want to use an irl girl!

Up until the second half of the game, everything had been going decent for you. Sure, this game was one of the most aggressive of the season, but you were right in the peak of your season, so it made sense that emotions were running high with the pressure to do well.

But that didn't excuse the fact that the Marquette girl that had been assigned to defend you had been playing dirty the entire night. After the fucking hellish week you had just gotten through, this girl was about to be the straw that broke the camel's. your, back.

After Paige's acl tear in August and the work and energy you had been endlessly pouring into your game from the past two and a half years till now, you had basically solidified your place as one of the main starters on the team, which meant you were receiving a lot more consistent playing time. The thought of being a more prominent player on the team didn't panic you the way it might others, as you you were known for always being a very level-headed, reliable player under pressure, as you had been dubbed by the media as the "Silent Assassin". But tonight was proving to test your limits to the max.

Any time you were on the court for the first two quarters, the Marquette girl had been glued to you, illegally all up in your space, pushing and shoving at you, taunting you over and over again, and even tripping you once when you lunged for the ball. All of which she had done without receiving a single foul, which not only pissed you off, but also your teammates on the court, the players on your bench, and your coach.

And of course, the one time you had defended yourself against her in the second quarter was the only time the ref called a foul on both of you. She had nearly pressed herself up against you the second your hands came in contact with the ball, leaving you with no choice but to pass to your teammate Aaliyah to sink a layup, when she hooked her arm through yours and pulled just as the ball left your hands.

Her unnecessary aggression caused something to snap inside of you, as the second you felt her yank on your arm, you turned around to push her off of you, hard. She stumbled backwards a little bit, not tripping or hitting the ground in any way, but the damage had been done in the, very biased, eyes of the refs.

The two of you rapidly reacted, approaching each other as you were yelling out meaningless threats and a long string of curses. Thankfully, your teammates holding the two of you back firmly, preventing any further physical altercations.

The two of you both received technical fouls for the unnecessary physical contact and unsportsmanlike behaviour. However, the foul you received only irked you more. Why were the only fouls called on her when it involved you pushing back? Could they not see the way she was treating you the entire game?

And of course, Geno wasn't thrilled about one of his starters getting a tech in the first half of the game. While benched, he had chewed you out for losing your temper at her, especially for cursing, which was something refs never let slide. But his reprimands didn't hold the usual level of anger or frustration, as he internally agreed that the Marquette girl had it coming for her, but, he had to remain professional.

Of course basketball was a physical sport, and with aggression came some conflicts with other players, but her behaviour tonight was unprovoked and incredibly aggravating to you. Which only worsened in the third quarter.

After your tech, you had been trying your best to ignore the incredibly annoying actions of the Marquette girl, but you simply couldn't anymore after she had purposely elbowed you in the nose to make her shot.

You immediately stumbled backwards, folding over at the waist as your hands came up in an attempt to alleviate the intense throbbing your nose felt. You could feel the blood begin to dribble down to your lip as you walked over to the bench with Lou escorting you, awaiting the ref's call.

The refs decided to not call a foul on the other girl, claiming that she hadn't reached backwards on purpose, it was simply the angle of her basket and granted UConn two free throws. The call enraged you, and something inside you snapped. You very quickly forgot about the tissue you were firmly holding at your nostrils as you approached him, insisting with him that the call was blind and blatantly biased.

You hadn't noticed the blood resumed to flow down your face while arguing until it hit your mouth, but you paid no mind to the taste of iron that filled your mouth as you persisted angrily speaking to the ref.

"Paige, go get her before she gets another tech," Geno whispered into Paige's ears over by the bench.

She nodded at him, making her way over to you to pull you away from the ref who was now threatening to eject you from the game.

"Okay enough, you need to get checked out by the team medic," Paige wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you away from your heated conversation, despite your struggle against her. She wasn't that much taller than you, but the extra two ish inches she had on you were proving useful right now.

She dragged you over to the bench, ignoring your many protests. She pried the used, bloody tissue out of your fingers to toss to the medic waste bag, grabbing new ones from her hand to help your bloody nose. It was apparent to everyone on your team, even the fans watching, that your stubbornness wouldn't allow you to accept the call that easily and allow the medic to clean you up. So, Paige would just have to do it herself.

Since your first day on the Uconn campus, you and Paige had become extremely close. With the two of you being assigned roommates your freshman year, the COVID year, it would've been impossible to not become best friends, considering the fact that you spent all of your time together.

If not at practice or hanging out with the team, the two of you were trapped inside your dorm, forced to find company within each other for the entire year. And with Paige's injury her sophomore year, you were one of the only people she was able to open up to, other than Azzi, and you had become her comfort during her rehab time, both then and now. Despite no longer being roommates, you two still always hung out at each other's respective dorm, even having frequent sleepovers.

Your incredibly close relationship wasn't left unnoticed by the media either, especially social media platforms like tiktok. When Paige and Azzi denied the relationship allegations at the same time you made it clear that you liked girls, the internet quickly refocused their attention onto you and Paige, and neither of you had the heart to deny any rumors circulating. Considering that after Azzi, you were the least active on your social media when it came to anything other than basketball, it wasn't too hard to ignore the internet's speculation.

All of which to say, Paige had made it incredibly easy for you to catch feelings for her. Until her, you had never known what it was like to be completely head over heels for someone. The way your heart skipped any time the two of you made eye contact, the way your cheeks flushed when she brushed against you, and the chemistry the two of you shared on and off the court was undeniable.

Unbeknownst to you, she felt the exact same way, and for the last two years, everyone but you two could see the feelings you harbored for each other.

If only you could feel the way her heart was beating as she held your face in one hand, using the other to apply pressure to your nose and wipe away at the blood on your face, neck, and jersey as she listened to you rant about the refs and how they were cheating you guys out of fouls the entire game. Although, she wasn't able to focus on the words coming out of your mouth, only the plumpness of your lips as they moved, something you noticed as your verbal attack slowed down so you could take a breath in between your sentences.

"She's literally fucking stuck up my ass and the refs ignore her which is actual bullshit, the amount of times this girl has literally made unnecessary contact or-, Paige are you even listening to me?"

Her lingering gaze on your mouth quickly snapped up to your eyes, a sheepish smile settling onto her now flushed cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah sorry."

She wiped the remaining blood from around your nose before calling over the medic to check your nose. A small bruise had formed near the bridge, but thankfully it wasn't broken. While she was checking your nose, Paige did her best to avoid meeting your curious stares.

Of course the two of you had small moments where you could envision that Paige felt the same for you. But never one that was so blatantly obvious as her staring at your lips, especially so publicly.

Nonetheless, you barely had time to analyze the interaction before the medic was clearing you to return to the game, Paige patting your butt (this) as you jogged by her to sub back into the game, which, until the handshake line, went without any further incidents, despite your team beating them by 13 points (HVL VS TEXAS Y'ALL).

When passing by you, you heard her mutter under her breath, "fucking bitch," in response to your half-hearted, "good game". It was safe to say you didn't take that well, responding to her with, "you wanna come say that to my fucking face? Pussy ass bitch." For both of your sakes, Dorka and one of her teammates were able to keep pushing the two of you down the line and out to the lockers before the post-game conference with Lou, Nika, and Dorka, which Geno insisted you attend to apologize for your behaviour.

***Small Time Skip***

"So Y/N, the multiple incidents that occured tonight with you and (BLANK) from Georgetown, do you have anything to say about them? I mean, you're known for being a very calm and collected player, but tonight we saw a very different side of you," a reporter questioned you. The questions for you from tonight's post-game conference mostly avoided the fight, treading the waters carefully as it was unlike anything you had ever been involved in.

"I'm not gonna try and cover for myself or anything, it was unprofessional and unacceptable for me to lose my temper on the court like that. Like you said, I've always tried to place an emphasis on just basketball when playing and avoid any other personal feelings or problems, but I guess tonight I didn't do as good of a job on that as I could of. This is something that I will keep in mind for all of our upcoming games as that's not the kind of image or reputation I want to set for myself or the team I represent. I would never want this kind of behaviour to be defining moments from our games because my teammates really put their all into every single one of their games, especially tonight's, and I don't want to create any personal animosity with the girls on the Marquette team, as I have a lot of respect for them."

Your diplomatic and cordial answer had appeased majority of the reporters, along with Geno and the team publicist in the back corner of the room. Except for one nosy reporter who seemed unhappy with your tactful response and was practically feining for drama.

“This one is for y/n, but with the events of today, you mentioned that you try to keep all personal feelings off the court. Is that an implication of some external underlying tension or problems between you and number (BLANK), as the two of you got quite physical today?”

What the fuck? Now they really were trying to start something between the two of you that never existed in the first place.

“No not at all. I have no connection with number (BLANK) off the court and don’t even personally know her. As I mentioned before, I have nothing but respect for the girls at Marquette and there are no hard feelings on my end. You know, basketball is a physical contact game and that just means that there a few rough moments here and there, it’s just part of the game.”

If they ask any more stupid questions about you and the Marquette girl you were actually gonna lose your mind. Especially if they somehow tie in the fact that you like girls with the fight.

Which, thankfully, they ended up dropping the fight for the rest of the interview, and you and the others were finally allowed to go out and celebrate New Year's Eve the way they had originally planned to.

The whole team, and Kayla of course, was prepared to celebrate at your favorite local bar, Ted's. All of the girls who were taken were bringing their partners along and those of you who were single were all ready to hunt someone down for a drunken kiss at midnight. Except you.

You were far too down bad for Paige to even fathom kissing someone else at the moment, especially not while going out with her and the rest of the team, who all knew about your ginormous crush on Paige.

Nonetheless, you still did your best to get ready quickly, wearing your baggiest pair of low-rise cargo pants and a very cropped white halter tank top in an attempt to cheer yourself up from the fact you wouldn't have a New Year's kiss this year, again.

But by the time you were throwing back shots at the bar like they were water, you couldn't find it in you to care about how single you were. It was common knowledge that you weren't the best at holding your liquor, as the team often made fun of your ability to get drunk off of two to three shots, which is exactly the position you found yourself in.

Until, of course, "guardian angel Paige" decided she needed to intervene in your drinkfest, walking up to your barstool and effectively cutting you off by having the bartender replace your drink with a regular shirley temple just before midnight so that she, or any of your other friends, wouldn't have to deal with you throwing up at four in the morning.

"You gotta go easy on the shots y/n/n, you're gonna hate yourself in the morning if you keep drowning your liver in alcohol."

"Funny, coming from Storrs's resident party girl, Miss Madison," you teased. There were only about twenty minutes left until bar's tv would depict the ball dropping in New York, and the disparity of your situation had begun to sink in.

Not only would you be suffering through another New Year's with no midnight kiss, but you had no relationships since last year or even a single talking stage, no potential relationship prospects for the future, and worst of all, no Paige.

"Yeah well, at least I can hold my drinks. You, on the other hand, are the most lightweight out of all of us. Besides, what happened to your little New Years tradition, the whole eating the grapes thing to find the love of your life or whatever?"

You went off on a little drunken tangent at this, complaining that it was completely ineffective, but also, the fact that it made you look stupid in front of the entire team when absolutely nothing came out of it.

"I mean it's so dumb. I don't get why my love life is so barren, like actually non-existent, it's not like I'm super unattractive or anything like that. Right? But like, I don't even have a midnight kiss this year, again," you grumbled to Paige, unaware of the way she was staring at your lips for the second time today, mesmerized by their movements.

"You are most definitely not unattractive. You're like one of the most attractive people I know. Besides, it's not like I'm kissing anyone this year," Paige reassured you, and somehow, your drunk brain simply did not process the way she had flusteredly complimented you.

"Yeah but you're Paige Bueckers," you emphasized, "you could kiss anyone in this bar if you wanted. Men and women, single and taken, would literally form a line two blocks down if you even mentioned wanting to kiss someone," you gazed up at Paige from your leaned position against the bartop, watching as the gears turned behind her eyes.

"Anyone in the bar? Like, anyone at all?" She asked you curiously, a small smirk graced her features as she peered down at you.

"Yeah probably, but there's only like two minutes left or something, so you should pick someone soon."

"Oh I already have someone picked out, I just don't know if they would kiss me back."

"Oh?" You felt your stomach drop at her statement, and you couldn't stop the jealousy from coursing through your veins if your life had depended on it. But Paige's unwavering gaze never left your face, and you could feel your cheeks flush at the way she was intently looking at you.

"Quite the staring problem tonight P?"

"Well it's pretty hard to not stare at the prettiest girl in the room," she flirted, scooting closer to you, effectively closing some of the distance between you two.

"I-, what?" You stuttered, taken back by Paige's actions.

"How many hints does I have to drop before you finally start picking up on them? I want to kiss you y/n, I want you."

The ten-second countdown had begun as Paige confessed to you, and you were left gawking at Paige's face, your heart threatening to give out from how fast it was beating.

"FIVE, FOUR,"

You yanked on Paige's belt loop, pulling her flush against your body as your eyes focused in on her lips.

"THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR'S!""

Your right hand reached up to grab Paige's jaw at the end of the countdown, pulling her lips firmly down onto yours. The bar's loud chants barely registered to you as you lost yourself in the intoxication of Paige's lips. Your tongue glided across her lip as your mouths moved in unison, causing her to groan into you. You took it as an invitation to slip your tongue into her mouth, the kiss deepening with unrestrained passion.

Your built-up need for each other was apparent as you made out, sending shivers down your spine at the pressure of her mouth against yours. It felt as if she was the oxygen you needed to breathe, and now that you had her, there was no way you could let her go now.

***The next morning: New Year's Day***

Your eyes fluttered open with a pounding headache, yet, the utterly familiar weight of a certain pairs of hands around your waist provided a sense of comfort you knew only she could provide.

Paige's soft snores rung out throughout the room, and as you gently reached forward to her nightstand to grab your phone off charging, you realize it was still extremely early in the morning, not even eight a.m.

And yet, your phone was blowing up with notifications from all social media platforms, even your text messages had over a hundred notifications.

Confused, you click on the apps to check what all the fuss was about, quickly realizing what had happened.

The entire interaction between you and Paige at the game was recorded by the cameramen and had instantaneously made it's way all over the internet, only fueling the dating rumors about the two of you.

The comments and posts were going feral at the way Paige was the only one who could calm you down, the way she wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you back, her holding your face ever so delicately, her smacking your butt as you ran back onto the court, and of course, her transparent staring at your lips the entire time you were an inch apart from her.

"What are you looking at baby," Paige sleepily mumbled into your neck, tightening her grip around your waist to pull you further into her, slinging her right leg over your waist.

You put your phone down and turned in her hold, wrapping your arms around her body as you peered down at Paige's sleepy face, admiring how beautiful she always looked.

"Your fans are going crazy about how obviously down bad you are for me P," you teased, running your foot up and down her calf as Paige pressed her face into your chest to absorb your body heat.

"Let them, just go back to sleep with me for a little bit longer."

And of course, how could you ever say no when your girlfriend was asking you so sweetly?

a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, and i'm so sorry if the ending is kinda rushed, i just wanted to finally get another fic out 🤗

1K notes · View notes

shadesoflsk · 8 months ago

Text

THE OLD WAY

pairing: Leon Kennedy x fem reader

summary: Living at a farm and being married surely has it perks. However, Leon can't help but think something is missing.

warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (fem receiving) p in v, mating press (??), creampie, breeding kink, outdoor sex, age gap (unspecified), established relationship, fluff, Leon is so husband in this, mentions of pregnancy, domestic bliss.

word count: 4k

author's note: Hello! I had this fic in my drafts for sooo long. I was kind of ashamed to post this since it's not my usual type of content but !!! fuck it !! Ovulation goes brrr. I hope you all like it!I had an older Leon in mind but I used a re6 leon pic for funsies. (And please... don't judge the lack of creativity in my title... I didn't know what to write.)

MY MASTERLIST

City life was no longer fitting for a man like him. Job was not the same and he was afraid he might not get up from one of his falls one day. Joints no longer worked like they used to, a painful reminder of how his age was getting to him.

That's why he chose to retire, rather early for the average citizen. But he believes his position as a federal agent has aged him to the point where he could easily describe himself as an 80 years old man who needed help crouching down.

With that in mind, he wasted no time buying a home away from civilization. Money was no problem and owning a ranch now sounded like the best idea he could come up with. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Time seemed to flow faster as he settled down in a peaceful lifestyle.

Solitude was very much welcomed. The sounds of blood dripping and ragged screams were replaced by the soft pitty patter of the rain and the usual rooster’s crow each morning, announcing a new day.

But, as much as he has grown to love and appreciate his simplistic routine, the monotonous daily work and the lack of companionship were hitting him hard. When night came and his thoughts clouded his rational side, he yearned for a change in his life. He was never the romantic type, never been. His previous job as an agent cut off any possibilities of having a partner and settling down like any normal person would. But years made him a sappy man, it seemed.

Life works in mysterious ways, though. He wouldn’t have thought that farm life would bring him a sweet thing like you. It all started with your car breaking down a few meters away from his farm. You wanted to thank him for his help, there was no way you would simply express your gratitude through words, not after his assistance.

So, your first visit consisted of a home-baked pie which he reluctantly accepted. Not because he didn’t want to but it had been a while since he was last gifted something. That first meeting soon turned into a couple until you were basically there every day.

“Stay with me,” shifted into a “Be my girlfriend” and therefore the “Marry me?” finally came.

You were the best thing that has ever happened in his life, a peaceful life away from any danger the city may bring and a beautiful wife by his side? God granted him the most perfect miracle ever.

He followed the milestones of your relationship to a T. Even though the lack of knowledge was sometimes obvious, he knew the basics of how to keep a girl—his girl— happy. It was in his nature to provide, and living with you meant no exception.

He always strived to do better, to be better. Your needs were always met and he took pride in knowing he was your husband. No one else but him.

However, he felt selfish when none of that actually fulfilled him. He was happy with you, don’t get him wrong. Nothing was like before when he thought he would die alone with no one who cared about him. But something in the back of his mind kept bothering him.

And ever since he realized something was missing, he couldn't help but try to find out what it was.

For days and weeks, he tried picturing the change both of you needed. More pets? You had enough with the dog you both have. Vacations? He had already taken you to the beach. More space in your home? The house at the farm was alright… Maybe a little too big for just the two of you.

Oh.

Oh…

The problem was the two of you. Or rather, being just the two of you on this big ranch.

He had come to realize that he could, in fact, dream bigger. A few years ago, he would have thought that being married was a faraway dream, unachievable and stupid. But now he’s a husband and maybe if he tries hard enough, he can get to be a family man.

However, nobody has taught him how to face these types of situations. Even when he asked you to be his wife, he needed months of preparation. How was he going to explain this desire to put a baby in you?

On one peaceful night, he was spooning you as always. It was his favorite activity after taking care of his chores at the farm (and even doing some of yours just so you could relax more). But even when there was nothing but a comforting silence, his thoughts wouldn’t stop flooding his mind.

He let one of his hands rest on your abdomen, caressing the skin there with circular motions. He tried closing his eyes to prevent more of those thoughts from coming to his mind yet it was useless. His imagination was running wild when he pictured you carrying a life in your belly, swollen and round, the perfect scenario.

He imagined taking care of you. Of course, his pretty wife won’t do anything if she’s next to him. There was no way he wouldn’t take that opportunity to show her how much of a man, a good man he was.

Pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rested behind you, he spoke before even thinking what he was supposed to say.

“You would be a good mom, you know?” It slipped out of his mouth, he should’ve used a more discreet way of speaking his mind. Now it was too late to draw back.

“What?” You chuckled as you turned your head to look at Leon. “I’d look great as a mom?”

“Yeah.” He whispered, finally admitting his desire to have a family. “What do you think?”

He wouldn’t push the matter if you don’t feel the same. As much as he loved the idea of having mini versions of both of you, there was no way he would force you to do it.

“Mhm… I think you’d also be a great dad.” Your voice was as soft as his, indulging in this little moment of intimacy and raw honesty.

The word dad rings in his mind. His life before having his ranch was violence-filled, then years of solitude surrounded by nothing but nature cornered him to think that being alone was his destiny. Now, you brought him a newfound desire to come back home and finding you and your child. A family.

“You think so?”

“Absolutely.”

Leon had a silly smile formed on his face. His dreams were actually achievable and domesticity and tranquility were now his everyday life.

“We can try if you want.” You added, feeling how Leon continued drawing shapes on your stomach. “How many would you like?”

Leon didn’t think he would get this far.

“Want me to be honest?” Leon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t mind having an entire football team with you.” He joked, hearing how you gasped in response.

“Leon!” You slapped his hand out of your abdomen. “I’m the one having them!”

Both of you laughed as the night embraced both of you like a blanket. Confessions have never been so much welcomed as tonight’s.

“I love you.” He murmured as his eyes closed. It was a reassurance that whatever life had in store for both of you, he would gladly accept it.

“I love you more.” You replied with the same fondness as always. Drifting off to sleep was easier than ever.

Days passed and the conversation wasn’t forgotten. Nonetheless, you let the flow of time and life decide for both of you.

Daily chores needed to be completed no matter what. So, he’s now washing his hands after feeding the horses. You’re holding the garden hose which makes a wet mess given the force of the water.

“Didn’t know it was raining.” Leon jokes as the water soaks his shirt and pants.

“Shit, sorry.” You turn off the garden hose as you giggle watching how drenched Leon looks.

And while you are genuinely sorry since Leon still has things to do on the farm, you can’t help but appreciate the image your husband is offering. White shirt now see-through, giving you the perfect view of his soft abdomen clinging to the fabric.

When you first met Leon, he had told you what an amazing body he had. With so much pride, he once showed you pictures of his past self. Images of a toned torso and strong arms would look appealing to your eyes. But each time Leon and you are intimate, you get to feel his slightly rounder belly pressed against you, his strong arms clinging to you. In those moments you can’t help but thank God for the gorgeous man you have.

“Enjoying the view?” Leon breaks the silence when he feels your eyes not leaving his body.

“Maybe…” You quietly whisper as you drop the hose and walk closer to him. “Can’t help it, my husband is so handsome.” You add, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Inevitably, you inhaled the scent you have grown to love.

For a moment, you stay there, just drowning in the affection letting your hands rest on his sides unaware of how Leon could feel the slight friction of your breasts against his soaked shirt. The thin fabric of your dress does a poor job of preventing Leon’s hands from wandering around your body.

A pool of arousal starts setting in Leon as he reaches your ass and gives it a firm squeeze.

With one swift and smooth move, he lifts you off the ground. Your feet are no longer touching the floor as Leon walks away from the barn. And, as if on command, you wrap your legs around his torso, allowing him to walk easier to whatever destination he had in mind.

For once, Leon hates the fact that he owns a big ass farm. His place is a bit far away from the barn, so his decisions are fogged by the desire and neediness he is feeling at the moment. Years in solitude led him to think he was imponent but with the way his jeans seem to get tighter each time your lower half brushes against his, he knows it's not true.

He is a gentleman, don’t get him wrong. He’d have picked you up and carried you to his bedroom as usual, laid you on the bed, taken off your clothes, and fucked you gently (or rough) like he usually did. However, a newfound wish piqued his interest, and even though you're in a secluded area, he wishes everyone would know what pretty girl he got.

Without further thinking and no complaints made, he places you down on the grass. The sensation of the blades tickling your skin is, in a way, bothersome, but your brain is easily turned into mush every time Leon dares to touch you.

Leon, however, wouldn’t allow you to feel any discomfort. His sun-kissed skin would be exposed in swift motion as he takes off his wet shirt. Those antagonizing seconds of admiring him unbuttoning the fabric push you to press your thighs together, seeking any type of release or mere pleasure.

“Up,” And after those endless seconds of him taking off his shirt, his hand taps your hip, motioning you to lift the lower half of your body for him to lay his shirt there. Giving no second thoughts, you raise your rear, pathetically quick, and Leon notices. “So needy, have I been slacking off?”

And his tone gives him away. He is looking forward to letting nature be the witness of your lustful acts. The sun being your light and the grass your makeshift bed. His body embraces the position on top of you.

“Of course I have.” He cooes, bringing his face lower and lower before pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. His stubble resembles sandpaper with how it scratches your skin, but at this point, it brings more pleasure than annoyance. “Look at her, already crying for me.”

His breath tickles the middle area between your legs. The wet spot in your panties is obvious to Leon who wastes no time to bring up that fact. And you want to thank yourself for choosing a dress today because there is no way you could do anything besides laying on the grass and letting Leon treat you so nicely and tenderly.

“How could I?” He hums against the soaked patch of the fabric. “Been neglecting my pretty girl.” He presses a kiss on your clothed area, dragging down the anticipated pleasure you’re looking for.

“Mhm… please.” Your babbles gain a chuckle out of Leon’s lips. He is enjoying the whole setting, he wouldn’t have known he had a thing for outdoor sex but then again, he loves discovering new things with you.

Antagonistically, he lifts your dress until it reaches your abdomen and exposes your lower half.

And finally, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, yanking down the fabric, allowing himself to admire the way he has made a mess of you already.

As always, he was ready for his favorite meal in the whole world.

Lying on his stomach, he props up on his elbows, his mouth dives into your pussy as his tongue laps at your clit. A moan escapes your lips as the sensation of being eaten out by Leon floods your mind and soul.

He feasts like a starved man, like he is eating his favorite dessert. He delves into your aching hole, his tongue tasting the sweet and well-known flavor of your juices. He brings your legs over his shoulders, propping you to raise your lower half and reach even deeper.

“Shit,” Your fingers tangle in his dirty blond hair, shoving his face into your cunt. His lips suck your clit, paying close attention to that part, drawing moans and whines out of you.

A plethora of names are being said as Leon continues being trapped between your thighs. He flicks his tongue while he feels how some of your slick drips to his stubble. And with the way your legs squeeze him even tighter, he can already guess you’re feeling so much pleasure from his tongue alone.

You arch your back, trying to bring him even closer to your core. The wet noises of his saliva and your slick mix with the outdoor ones. The soft rustling of the trees’ leaves and the birds chirping are a reminder of the scenario you both are in.

Whimpers leave your lips as Leon's tongue makes out with your cunt. Your fingers grip the shirt Leon placed as a makeshift blanket. Heat starts pooling in your belly as the antagonizing seconds of Leon eating you out bring you to the edge.

At last, your body jerks and comes undone in Leon’s grasp. He holds you in place, flattening his tongue to collect every drop of your slick. He could easily cum too just by the fact he was tasting your release.

“My sweet girl, always so perfect for me.” He finally disconnects from your pussy to crawl back to where your face is. He places some kisses on your neck which is glistening with a layer of sweat given how much pleasure you were previously feeling.

At last, his lips reach yours and he passionately kisses you. You could easily taste yourself in the kiss yet you don’t care at this very moment.

For a moment, he indulges in the tenderness of the kiss after bringing you to heaven with just his tongue alone. However, the easily noticeable restraint in his jeans was getting harder to control.

You feel him grind against you, seeking any type of friction to ease the aching feeling of his erection.

“Leon… I can’t….” Leon’s intentions are obvious as you feel his clothed dick humping your leg like a needy man yet, you are still tender from your ecstasy.

“You can…” He brings his face against the crook of your neck once again, placing wet kisses around your skin. “Just one more baby.”

He pleads, he begs, he needs to feel you wrapped around him. Those thoughts about leaving his mark, leaving his seed in you are still pretty much present. So at last, you nod. That’s when you can feel a smile forming on his lips which continue being pressed against your neck.

“Thank you, thank you.” Acting like he hasn’t touched for ages, you hear the rustle of fabric and his belt buckle falling to the ground. You see how his dick springs out of his boxers when he pulls them down, already leaking precum just from eating you out.

In less than a second, you feel him collecting your previous release, sliding his cock through your folds with such ease that it had you gripping air.

“Fuck…” He murmurs as he pushes himself painfully slowly, taking his time to feel how your walls tighten around his length. Pinned underneath him, you feel overwhelmed by the sensation of having his body so close to you.

“My pretty wife…” He whispers as he is finally all the way in. “Look at you, so pretty full of me.” He adds while one of his hands caresses your hair.

He starts gently rocking against your body, the pace is slow and comforting as if trying to remember the way your velvety walls clamp his dick, the stretch being something you’re accustomed to.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He says as he thrusts inside of you, this time a little more urgently. The hand that was previously running through your hair wraps around your waist and lifts it slightly.

“Mhm…yes.” You nod as your eyes lock with his, witnessing a newfound desire you haven’t seen before. Maybe it was the fact that both of you are outdoors, you don’t know.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours mix with your heavy breaths. The perfect music for the perfect scenario. As soon as Leon hits that sweet spot of yours, you whimper his name like a mantra.

And then again, the thought of a family floods his mind. The mental image of your belly stretching out, making space for the baby is everything he longs for. And not only that, but he craves to take care of you, his pretty wife. You wouldn’t need to lift a finger for the nine months of pregnancy.

“Wanna fill you up.” He finally confesses in a moan. He isn’t a stranger to dirty talk, you know it well. The way his words come out like a promise and an already-made decision is proof of his not so hidden wish. “This farm is lonely with just the two of us…”

And as he presses his forehead against yours, you see in his eyes the devotion he has for you. The same man that promised you the world is now promising a life, a new life who is going to be the perfect combination of both you and him.

“What’chu mean?” You feign ignorance just for the sake of hearing those words coming out of his mouth again. And as you try to say some more teasing words, you can feel the way his thrusts get rougher as if trying to make a statement. The statement being that he wouldn’t stop until you get pregnant.

“You know what I mean…” He is huffing by now, letting out a grunt as he utters those words. “Wanna get you nice and full.”

Ultimately, your dreams are the same as his. So you allow him to transform this dream of his into his—your—reality now.

“Yeah?” You say through your teeth, trying not to whimper from the fact that his cock is reaching so deep into you.

“Yeah.” He groans, his sticky forehead never leaving yours as he looks into your eyes and your dazed-out expression. “You’re gonna look so goddamn beautiful as a momma.”

Out of desperation to fuck you even deeper, he brings your legs to his shoulders, just like he previously did when he was eating you out. But this time, it is an attempt to let his dick mark your womb.

It is his mission to one day see a positive test. It’s his mission to show his devotion to his princess and the now-future mother of his children. He’d never stop looking at the telltale of his seed making its home in your body.

He wouldn’t let you do anything besides resting and growing your little miracle. He’d cook, he’d clean, he’d feed you if you ask him to.

“Keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna—fuck—cum…” He effortlessly bends your knees even more, bringing them closer to your chest. “Gonna fill you up until I’m so damn empty.”

He takes advantage of the vulnerable position you’re in to bring a hand to your clit. Rubbing it, he waits for the imminent climax of both of you.

“Cum for me, princess.” He presses his body on top of you, the position allowing him to let out an almost growl against your ear. The sense of purpose that Leon is showing prompts you to finally reach your climax. With a broken voice and your fingernails leaving crescent moons on his back, you coat his dick with your release. A gooey ring forms at the base of his cock every time he pulls in and out of you.

His actions don’t stop there, though. He was so close to spilling right inside you and making his dreams come true. He brings the hand that was previously teasing your clit to your face, brushing away some of your hair that has stuck to your forehead, he looks right into your eyes.

“Fucking love you so much.” He grunts, his deep sea eyes never leaving yours, as if trying to engrave this moment in his mind. To forever remember the time when he finally achieved his dream. “You’ll be the prettiest momma ever.”

Although his thrusts are too much for you to handle and the overstimulation turns into a slight discomfort, the way his hand is gently caressing your cheek—a juxtaposition of his determined attempt of marking you— makes you melt on the spot.

And especially since the cold feeling of his wedding ring reminds you of the amazing man you married.

“I'm cumming.” He warns you as his thrusts get sloppy and without rhythm. He's seeing stars at this moment, every time he plunges his dick into you he reaches the sky. And at last, with the way his breath gets laboured and heavy, it announces his high coming.

The head of his dick spurts rope after rope of cum into you, the angle you are in makes it easier for it not to drip out of you. He wouldn’t allow a drop of his seed to go to waste.

You feel the warm and thick liquid filling your insides, proof of Leon’s actions and therefore fulfilled wish. For a moment, you stay there letting his weight crush you and your bent legs.

After a while, he slowly slips out of you, carefully placing your legs on the ground. You feel the grass blades tickling your calves where Leon’s shirt doesn’t reach.

Leon rests his arm next to your head, admiring the dazed-out expression you have after letting him fill you.

“Hey…” He murmurs before letting out a soft chuckle.

“Hi you.” You respond with a smile amidst the exhaustion that is running through your veins. “We really just did that.”

“Yeah…” In his eyes, you can observe how much love he has for you and how eager he is to know if this one dream will be a reality.

With his free hand, he grabs yours and places soft pecks on your knuckles.

“Are you okay?” He once again speaks, now making sure you are alright.

“More than okay.”

He gives your knuckles one last kiss before he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head while doing so.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You ask.

“Nothing…” He shakes his head once again. “It's just that… I may have some dad jokes already prepared.”

“Shut up, Leon.”

You couldn’t wait to know if your dreams were achieved by this act. You couldn’t wait to see if your life could get even better than this. And especially, you couldn’t wait to experience being a family.

💬 shadesoflsk: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil

2K notes · View notes

1-800-ur-cyber-slxtt · 3 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊；𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒

summary: a sidemen hide and seek video! reader and boyfriend harry hide together and one things leads to another... oh and don't forget the unexpecting witnesses.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: smut, not very explicit, caught/walked in on, filmed, forced proximity, pre established relationship. ???

notes: forgot I had this in my drafts from when I was making a sidemen smut and imagines book on wattpad (not posted). I edited it, practically rewrote it since I have major writers block and no motivation to commit to any ideas I have or start writing. anyways enjoy!! <3

divider credit: @pommecita

My back was pressed flush against Harry's chest, not an inch separating us. Even the tiniest of movements wouldn't go unnoticed by the other. I could practically feel his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. When my boyfriend had suggested that we should hide together I had a more spacious spot in mind.

Harry had had the marvellous idea of hiding in a small wardrobe, a miracle that we could both stand up. It was dark, almost pitch black. The camera's lit up the small space a little but not a great deal.

Goosebumps prickled along the skin of my neck, a trail of them running down my spine as his hot breath fans over my neck. The small space felt warmer and charged up, a growing tension that wasn't unwelcomed.

I raise the camera up so my face filled the dark screen, "I don't know why Harry thought this was a good idea.", I whisper yell into the small screen. My legs were regretting the choice of following Harry in as they ache and grow restless.

A chuckle leaves Harrys mouth at my words. He places his hands firmly on my hips and comes to rest his head on my shoulder, coming into frame, "This is the winning spot, I'll tell you that right now." I was glad he seemed sure of himself because I was lacking the same faith, almost ready to give myself up or find a new hiding spot.

"Mhm, sure.", I mumble bored out of my mind and sick of standing. I bounce on the heels of my feet, unintentionally thanks to the forced close proximity my body rubbing against his. The action lulls a shaky breath from his lips.

His grip on the stick of his camera tightens, knuckles turning white (though that goes unnoticed due to the darkness). As my body brushes against his I can feel the bulge starting to form through the constraints of his shorts and boxers beneath.

If we were going to be stuck in here until Vik manages to find us then we might as well have some fun. Even if it meant there wasn't much footage for the video, but really who wants to watch two people stuck in a closet anyway.

My backside grinds against him, one of his hands on my hip strengthens it's grip. Harry's breath grazes over my ear, "What are you doing, Y/n?" His voice is uneven and husky.

"Don't tell me this isn't what you wanted to happen when you picked this spot.", I mutter, a smirk tugging at my lips.

Harry drops his camera and picks me up, his hands slotting under my thighs. His body trapping mine against the closet wall. The sudden movement creates a thud that hopefully went unnoticed.

Our lips connect in a quick, heated movement, pushing against one another until he pulls away and moves down my neck. My head tilts upwards leaning on the wooden panel, small whimpers drawing from my throat.

His bulge presses between my clothed thighs, a friction that has my mind dizzy and waiting for more. My hands rake through his short hair, pulling at it just how he likes.

Still holding my camera in one hand, Harry takes it and tosses it to the floor where his own is. I grimace slightly at the noise it makes when it hits the floor of the closet, if I wasn't so caught in the moment I would have scolded Harry for his carelessness.

Joining the pile on the floor is both our shirts, leaving our bare chests pressed together. Harry kisses down my chest to my breasts, his hands reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. His movements are desperate and feverish, driven by need.

My shorts soon follow, the piles of clothes and cameras at our feet only making the already cramped space seem even tighter. Harry pushes down his own shorts, letting them pool at his ankles.

My hands stay firmly planted on shoulder and neck to hold myself up, one of his hands stays put on my hip while the other hooks into my underwear and pulls it to the side.

I struggle to hold back a gasp as he slides into me. My nails dig into his shoulder, leaving crescent red marks in their wake.

His head burrows into the crook of my neck, his soft groans muffled by my skin as he leaves sloppy kisses. His hips push back and forth, my body repeatedly hitting the wooden panelling of the closet wall.

His name tumbles from my mouth over and over in quiet moans and whimpers at his ear, the noises sucking out his own grunts and groans.

My ears perk up at the sound of footsteps and voices outside. The noises get closer till they're right outside the wardrobe door. Harry's pace only quickens, his thrusts unrelenting and hard. I bite back a moan as hard as I can, my teeth digging into my bottom lip.

The door is soon pulled open with a creak revealing an unexpecting Vik, Josh and Simon, along with some of the camera crew. A shocked yet amused expression falls over their faces, a stunned silences hanging in the air.

Harry and I freeze, staring back at them. My legs are still wrapped around Harry's hips, his hands holding my thighs. Vik lets out something of a incredulous chuckle before closing the door again.

Harry's head drops onto my shoulder, embarrassed laughter coming from the both of us. There is no doubt in my mind that jokes will be being made in reference to this for at least as long as the near future. The group was definitely on their way to find the other hiders and promptly fill them in on what they had just witnessed.

"We're never going to live that down.", I sigh as our laughter dies down. Harry agrees with a nod, a grin stuck on his face. I expect him to lower me back down but his hips start moving again, one hand still on my doughy thigh and the other above my head flat against the wood.

My sentence barely comes out audible through my ragged breath, "You're just going to keep going after that?"

He grunts, voice gruff with lust, "May as well finish what we started." With that his lips attach back onto my neck and collar bone.

As pleasure continues to wash over my body with each thrust, I look down, my eyes catching on the two discarded cameras. A flush of panic washing over me.

"Harry baby, please tell me that you turned the camera's off."

312 notes · View notes

emeraldcity1900 · 7 months ago

Text

the history of animation in a nutshell

Early 1900s: hey what if comic strips could like move?

Late 1910s early 1920s hey what if we mashed this up with live action people?

late 1920s: hey what if this thing had sound?

Early to mid 1930s: hey what if this had people actually talking and also color?

late 1930s: hey you know that super cool movie that one lady animated with paper cut out silhouettes? What if we did that with painted cells? Would people even pay to see that? Never mind it turns out the answer is yes.

1940s: ah shit most of our animators got drafted and/or hate us now cause we weren’t paying them. IT’S PROPAGANDA TIME BABY. Also haha hitler got hit with a mallet and also the most racist depictions of Japanese people ever.

1950s to 1960s : oh what’s this newfangled thing? Television? What if you could air cartoons on it? Oh fuck no I ain’t paying that much to get the charecters to have different backgrounds and for the charecters to like, move fluidly. Also manga and anime are steadily growing more popular.

1970s: (Ralph Bakshi walks into a comics store and finds a furry comic) X rated animated movie? *cue the screams of mothers and their unsuspecting children now being introduced to the revolutionary idea that cartoons don’t equal kids stuff? WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?

1980s to 1990s: we can have full on animated Broadway musicals? Wait, what do you mean animated movies can count for the Oscar’s? What do you mean now they get their own catagory because the academy still thinks their for babies? Anime and manga are taking off in the west. SWEET JESUS WHAT DRUGS ARE THE JAPANESE ON SHOWING THIS SHIT TO KIDS. But also why is it so fucking good. Maybe some of these aren’t even meant for kids? Wait We can sell toys to kids with cartoons? Wait we can actually put effort into these cartoons on television? The fuck to you mean we can animate in 3D now? What do you mean we can have well animated, well written sitcom shows like the simpsons? What do you mean you can make cartoon charecters say fuck? What drugs are creators at Nickelodeon on? Do I even want to know?

2000s: oh my god, there is this one show that I really like cause it’s really well written and genuinely funny but I can’t talk about it because it’s animated and we all know cartoons are for babies right? Oh look it’s the transformers movie, look how far CGI has evolved so we can make the transformers in a movie.

2010s: holy shit I know these shows are for kids but they’re just well written and have so much meaningful things to say about the world. Wait, it’s cool to like cartoons now? They they have fandoms for this? Fuck yeah I’m in. (Enters one of the most notoriously toxic fandoms of all time) THEY HAVE GAY PEOPLE IN THESE SHOWS NOW? AND COMPLEX EMOTIONAL STORYTELLING? AND ADULT ANIMATED SHOWS CAN BE MORE THAN JUST SITCOMS WITH THE SAME JOKES AND STYLE? WHY IS IT THAT EVERY DISNEY CARTOON SINCE GRAVITY FALLS INCLUDE THINGS THAT GET MORE AND MORE FUCKED UP? WHY DO I FUCKING LOVE IT? WHY THE FUCK DID DISNEY DO THE OWL HOUSE DIRTY LIKE THAT?

2020s: I got this show I wanna pitch but it dosen’t fit into any box that the networks want and also I’m afraid that they’ll just randomly cancel it before I can finish the story I want to tell. Wait, I can just post the pilot on my YouTube channel, see if anybody actually likes this thing I made and just make the show independently? FUCK THE NETWORK! I AM THE NETWORK

668 notes · View notes

psychhound · 1 month ago

Text

ttrpgs in the classroom (part 8)

oh boy have i not made one of these posts in ,,, like a year. grad school is crazy yall. lmao. but. i wanted to share what we do for our analysis unit now that we've hit it this semester!!

other games used in the unit:

we are but worms & graves for funerals

the assignment:

write an essay of approximately 1000 words doing a literary analysis of some aspect of a game, first forming an inquiry question, then looking in the text for evidence, then coming up with an argument about a deeper meaning of the text. the second draft of the assignment can either be an expanded essay, or a multimodal piece of the student's choosing. (the other option for this essay is to do a rhetorical analysis of an argumentative text about gaming)

the games:

[ID: a powerpoint slide titled choose your fighter game (the word fighter is crossed out, so it reads choose your game). it shows five ttrpg titles, with a short description of each, and an icon to represent them. the background is a light orange sky and green grass in a video game like art style. there is a fake game menu bar on the bottom. the games in the slide are functionally described below. end ID]

when we made war upon the slumbering woods by richard kelly @sprintingowl

a collaborate journey into the magical woods ... to destroy it

the treasure at the end of this dungeon is an escape from this dungeon and we will never escape from this dungeon by riverhouse games @riverhousegames

a lyric game about a never-ending dungeon and those stuck there

kenzie's project by sasha winter @stargazersasha

a Weird Academia horror game for three players

i love you, alive girl by anna anthropy

a 1-page game about writing love letters under surveillance

drifters by gila rpgs

a Weird West game of gunslingers and their guns

past semesters game options:

a dragon game by chris bissette cozy town by rae nedjadi @temporalhiccup

the process:

in the powerpoint introducing the games, i have a more thorough description of each one, and then three examples of inquiry questions that they could use as jumping off points to do their analysis on. the inquiry questions ask things like, what moral stance might this game align itself with, what other stories is this game in dialogue with and to what effect, what does this game have to say about the current state of our society? the students can use these inquiry questions or not, theyre only meant to be examples

the results:

this is definitely the most challenging project for my students, but i think that challenge is good for them! i've had really mixed results, with the most common issue i run into just being surface level analysis. they are, however, 18 and have never done anything like this before (for the vast majority of my students) so a lot of my feedback is just pushing them further and trying to get them to say something interesting. i really love a dragon game and cozy town, but i found they didnt have enough context of ttrpgs and dnd/pf to really Get why a dragon game was interesting, so i replaced it with escape from this dungeon since thats got some more meat for them like voicey rules and characters. and im a big fan of nedjadi's games and wanted to give my students something more cute and fun, but they struggled to find much to read into or say about it that wasnt very surface level. escape from this dungeon and ilu, alive girl are new games this semester so we will see how those go over!!

#indie ttrpgs #ttrpg community #teaching #ttrpgs in the classroom

132 notes · View notes

ay0nha · 2 years ago

Text

Lament of My Heart | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: “Tommy…” Joel let out a breath of frustrated laughter. He disappointingly shook his head, leaning over you, “That boy doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

Set pre-episode four & post-episode five w/ moments of pre-outbreak

PAIRING: Joel Miller x femme!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

WARNINGS: SMUT (hand job), mentions of blood, mutual pining/slow burnish, skinny dipping (of sorts), canon-typical things, mentions of Tommy x reader, etc.

A/N: Need to post this before it sits in the drafts to collect dust. Joel is just on my mind all the time, so this is the product of that. Thank you as always @from-the-clouds for listening to my blabbering and entertaining all my ideas! Much love.

“No more questions, Ellie,” You reprimanded her lightly, trying to cover the warmth she was discovering you felt. “Get some rest.”

Ellie was a hard-headed person with the responsibility of society on her shoulders. She carried the weight well, but she was still human, still young. But her questions revealed her growing creativity and sharp wit.

“Not tired.” She hated Joel’s coffee, but the stolen sips still coursed through her veins. You knew it was partly due to the anxiety ahead of them. They all felt it, that tense air of the unknown. “You two don’t seem to get along, though.”

Your eyes flashed to the rear view mirror on instinct. Settled on the truck’s dirty cushions and the supplies being used as a pillow, Joel was asleep. But you weren’t sure how long it would last.

“Ellie-

“It wasn’t a question!” She defended quickly, toying with the edge of her sleeve. She’d been dying to know just exactly why you got under Joel’s skin the way you did. “Tell me about Tommy, at least.”

“Ask Joel.” Your eyes were everywhere. You checked the mirror as if there was traffic, but it was the only thing that kept you occupied. She was making you squirm.

“C’mon, you know he won’t-” Ellie’s own frustrations were building up. In her shoes, you’d be just as curious. “Please.”

Through a thoughtful sigh, you resigned, “Before-We just- We’ve known each other for a long time.” You’d been intertwined with the Miller brothers since before everything. You rarely said it aloud, and now, you struggled to put all the history into something coherent. “I met Tommy when he returned from deployment-

“In Texas?” Ellie hung onto every word, mind spinning tales faster than you could keep up with. “Were you in the military too?”

“I said no questions.”

The comment made her smile. Ellie always appreciated a good game. Loopholes were her specialty.

“Fine, then.” She settled in the passenger seat, knees to her chest as she faced you, “You were discharged with Tommy with more medals than you could count!” Her posture then changed with inventive excitement, “Or maybe a bad-ass sniper with too many confirmed kills to count.” You wished your life was as exciting as she made it sound. “You’re going to have to stop me before I start thinking you led an elite hit squad.”

“Close.” You quipped, “I worked on the military base in town.” It was the first job that hired you and offered some stability for someone your age. “I’d help get soldiers back on their feet once they returned…”

“Then you became friends with Tommy,” Ellie encouraged you to continue. She couldn’t stand the lulls.

Too many years passed for you to remember clearly how you became close to Tommy, but at the time, he considered you his soulmate. Not that either of you really knew what that meant.

“Then I became friends with Tommy.” You nodded. You kept your eyes steady ahead, adding, “Joel, too.” Glancing at Ellie, you finished, “Then we all just…stuck together.”

Separation wasn’t ever questioned, even on the eve of all the destruction. That memory was vivid; the way your bloodied body held onto Joel, dragging him away from it all, Tommy trailing behind, surveilling every move. It was how you moved together for years, protecting each other as much as possible.

“He doesn’t talk about it; before,” Ellie commented lowly. You knew she wished for more from Joel. But she couldn’t see what you saw in the way he softened for her.

“That hasn’t changed with time.” Your words felt too bitter. This time you indulged in a glance at Joel. Still settled. “I’m surprised he’s even talking to me now.”

You always described the Miller brothers as a whirlwind. They may not have necessarily meant it, but they had a knack for sweeping you up and consuming you. When Joel came to you with Ellie, there was no question of whether you would help or not, just when and where you were needed.

He’d never leave without you.

“Tell me something about them...” Ellie pleaded. She was a clever girl who picked up on the weight of his misery. But it wasn’t yours to share. “Before they…before this.”

Your shoulders relaxed while your hands moved to the bottom of the steering wheel as you allowed yourself to filter through only the fond memories.

“Alright, well…” You hesitated with your words. Only because you knew, Joel would tell the story differently. “He and Tommy were wasted…I mean…Absolutely hammered that night.”

Your words had their desired effect, and Ellie’s giggles encouraged you to continue. But it felt strange to make Joel’s drinking habits sound so lighthearted when you know how the habit haunted him now.

“Tommy called me.” The phone in Joel’s kitchen woke you up that night well past the witching hour. “The brothers always got into all kinds of mischief, usually Tommy's fault.” You were typically by his side, provoking him. “Always Tommy’s fault.”

“He sounds fun.” Ellie joined in. You knew in another world, the two would get up to all kinds of mischief if they had the chance.

“He can be, when he wants.” You glanced at the map on your lap. With the sun getting low, it meant you needed to find a safe place to stop soon. “That night, though, the two of them had the bright idea to pretend to be bouncers, only to get into a fight with the actual ones.”

“I knew Joel wasn’t a total hard-ass.”

As you continued to retell the story, you hadn’t realized how much nostalgia you carried with you. Nor were you able to see how you talked so warmly of Joel. Ellie knew exactly what to say to get the information she wanted. But you waited a long time to reminisce freely.

“...When I finally got them home,” You blew a raspberry at the unforgettable effort it took. The stench of alcohol and smoke still made your nose scrunch. “Thank god Tommy had enough sense left to make it to the couch.”

Ellie loved how you teased Joel’s hiccuping that he blamed it on being over-served tequila. It was hard even to imagine he had any of that humor left in him. You embellished the story just enough to entertain yourself. But the story's core provided fertile ground for understanding that nothing you added was too far-fetched.

“They remembered nothing the next morning,” You said. “Tommy found all these numbers written on his arm, said he’d close his eyes and pick which to call.”

“....And Joel, he must have been so hungover…”

“You’d think…” You reflected flatly. “He just got up and went to work.”

From your side, you knew Ellie could sense you holding back. She’d gotten more than she asked for, so she left it. She could see how the echo of that night still felt fresh, doubting you provided her with the detailed ending you lived.

----

“You alright?” The question was slowly processed by Joel, who was trying to steady his breathing before the contents of his stomach came up.

“Yeah, yeah…” Joel held onto you every step, arm slung over your shoulders, making you sway with him with each step to his room.

He was mumbling while you settled him on the edge of his bed. You got every few words while focusing on preparing him for the next day. The brothers had work, and doing this would save you the headache of hearing their complaints.

“B-been thinkin’...” His Texan drawl was heightened as he slurred.

“That so?” You half-heartedly replied, rummaging through his medicine cabinet. You looked for something for the morning.

“Mhmm…”

You could hear him shuffling around in his room. Assuming he’d been pulling his boots off and discarding his jacket, you were surprised to find him leaning on the bathroom’s door frame.

“Then you’ve been hanging around Tommy too much.”

“Tommy…” Joel let out a breath of frustrated laughter. He disappointingly shook his head, leaning over you, “That boy doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

You still held love for Tommy, but you had mistaken it for something that it wasn’t. The two of you functioned better as friends; you were his confidant and partner in crime. Neither of you would change that for the world.

“And you do?”

Your relationship with Joel had a natural ebb and flow that could be but never got to the point of being volatile. But that didn't stop you from stepping on each other's toes, constantly being on the brink of an argument that neither of you knew the point of.

“Darlin’...” You melted his resolve, helping him the way you were. Joel’s eyes flickered down. Nothing about your outfit was seductive, but the way his eyes loitered told you maybe it had been. Covering his tracks seamlessly, Joel continued, “...The things you deserve.”

Your laugh bounced off the bathroom walls, resonating deep within Joel’s chest.

"What?" Joel asked lightly, his smile starting to mirror yours, but not understanding why, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

“Shit, Joel,” Your laughter lingered, “You must be really drunk.”

“C’mon now.” He tried to stop you. He wasn’t sure he could handle any level of ridicule from you.

But you pushed passed him, drawing his sheets back for the night to be over, “Let’s just get you to bed.”

He stumbled to you willingly, but you could see his mind turning. There was something he wanted off his chest, but you knew you weren’t ready to hear it.

“Come on now, Miller,” You tried again. “We’ve both got work in the morning.”

“What is it you do again?” Joel’s words played with chords of tension. “Besides eat all my food and sleep on my couch.”

"Get by." You joked more for your sake than his.

Joel’s eyes shifted between your own, pupils entirely dilated. Blaming it on the alcohol helped settle your stomach.

“I know y-you don’t stick around for my benefit.”

"God forbid we enjoy each other's company, Joel." Your eyes burned into his. You enjoyed your ability to make him bashful in his stupor. Just a look, and he was crumbling.

You saw it coming. You could have stopped it, but it wasn’t even the length of a decent kiss. It was soft and fleeting because you pulled back to never speak of it again. You doubted Joel remembered, but you could never be sure what he’d admit to.

----

“Did you ever-

“Ellie…” You said her name slowly in warning.

She retracted fast, “Joel and you-

“No.”

Your answer came off harshly. You knew where she wanted to go; she’d circled the topic for hours.

“Can I ask one question?”

“That was a question.” You looked at her again pointedly, “Shoot.”

“Why’d you stay in Boston?”

Sitting with the statement, you focused on the road. Most around you was barren and destroyed but offered an unconventional peacefulness. Sometimes you imagined if you’d be better off in isolation than in a QZ. But you could never bring yourself to just disappear like that.

“As hard as you might try,” You started, pulling the car to the side, “You can’t be alone in this world. With a purpose or not, it just doesn’t work.”

The sudden sway of the car disturbed the sleeping figure in the back. Joel attempted to hide his jolt as he sat up but was already looking out the window for trouble.

“We stoppin’?” Joel’s voice filled the car while the engine cooled.

Joel looked to you for reassurance. Ellie pointed that out to you, the way he valued you despite his resentment.

“We’ve gotten far enough today.” You tossed the keys back to him. “We need food and rest.”

“Alright.”

Your exchanges were clipped.

Yet, you valued the journey with Ellie. Selfishly, the task provided a reason to see Joel again. It had become easier to spend time apart. It became a habit. But even with a quiet meal shared and conversations led by Ellie, it felt good to be with him again.

The pressure shifted. No longer were ration cards on your mind, nor were the curfews you struggled to follow. Something about the night felt freeing despite the heavy responsibility that it meant. Maybe it was the privilege of feeling safe with Joel since he created a protective bubble, sacrificing his rest for yours.

You heard Joel get up when he thought yours and Ellie’s breathing steadied. You were going to leave it, but sleep was hard to come by with your mind racing.

Joel saw your shadow first. But the hand that brushed between his shoulder blades still made him flinch. He spoke in hushed tones, looking to ensure that Ellie was still asleep, “I hope you didn’t come over here to tell me we’re safe.”

“Didn’t say that.” You frowned. He knew you well; you wore your concerns on your face. You just wished he didn’t hold such defiance for them. “But we’ll be alright for the night-

“Don’t.”

Joel wanted to be in control of everything down to the smallest detail.

You knew it was a way of coping, his way, but it never sat right with you. Especially now, as you watched Joel scrutinize the area you chose, you could feel the criticism he was holding back from the moment you parked the car.

Did you even survey the terrain?

Too much open space. No clear route out.

You know better than this.

“We’re the perfect targets.”

“Joel-

“We know how this works,” He voiced over you. Even with you there, his surveillance didn’t change as he remained on a swivel. “It was exactly what we did.”

Joel’s emotions were catching up, but he still held onto a forced restraint. He was expecting resistance, an argument from you. But you heard what he said, how Ellie needed to hear it, to believe him.

No one’s gonna find us.

It was a promise. Something Joel was determined to control.

The wind was picking up the later the night became, and any rustle was faced with a gun barrel. It caused chills to litter your arms out of apprehension. You tried to comfort yourself with your arms tucked to your chest, but it only shifted Joel’s attention.

If you tried hard enough, you could guess what he would say to you. We need to stay sharp. You could feel Joel’s hesitation, though. It happened every time he pushed you away.

There was merit to your diversion, but Joel only allowed it for so long.

“Get some rest.” He nodded toward his forgotten sleeping bag, “No good if both of us are tired.”

----

The car was gone. The brief companions too. Your heart felt permanently caught in your throat. Adrenaline replaced everything. But it was wearing you thin.

“Where are you going?” Respite clung to Joel’s question as his eyes followed your figure up from his crouched position.

Like a cat, you stretched until something deep within your spine popped. You moved towards the shore of the small body of water you all settled by.

Time was at the forefront of Joel’s mind. Time was no longer on your side, meaning the sooner, the better pressured every minute. Daylight became the most valuable thing. And by the looks of it, you were on your way to wasting it.

“We smell, Joel.” You state as you discard the knife strapped around your waist. You were meant to be cleaning them in the water, preparing them for the next fight the way he had.

But your body was sore. You could imagine the pain Joel felt was much worse, physical or not. He put his body first rather than having you or Ellie be the brunt of it all.

Mornings were sacred to you. It was when the birds sang at dawn because the crisp, moist air carried their songs and their meanings farther through the same air that filled your lungs in fluid refreshment.

You pulled your shirt over your head and looped your thumbs in the waistband of your pants as you wiggled them over your thighs and down your legs.

For the moment, Joel’s eyes lingered. He looked for bites. He knew he wouldn’t find anything, but he had to be sure. Instead, Joel found deep hues of bruises still healing from Kansas City.

Almost wholly above the horizon, the sun highlighted the mist rising off the body of water. It veiled your body the closer you were to where the water and the rocks met. Yet, Joel watched on until your arms maneuvered behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra.

As if the sun was directly in his eyes, Joel looked up, avoiding seeing something that wasn’t meant for him. Except, it didn’t stop him from passing along a warning, “Don’t go out far.”

The dirt from the past days felt like a second layer of skin had embedded into your own, suffocating you. You finally waded into the freezing water to rid yourself of it.

But not before throwing a comment over your shoulder, “Join me, then.”

Your words were like an idle threat that was only met with silence. You knew he was contemplating the offer. Always thinking.

The water was cold, goosebumps littering your skin within minutes and creating peaks where Joel refused to look. He scolded himself for the way his cock twitched at just the idea.

You leaned back so you were nearly floating on your back. Above, a bird glided hypnotically in a wide circle. It seemed you weren’t the only one seeking to rid yourself of a sense of weariness. The cool water swallowed you whole, caressing your skin and relaxing your muscles.

“Someone’s gotta stay with Ellie.” Joel voiced his decision. It was an excuse, what he was supposed to say.

There was no point in fighting it. Instead, you submerged yourself completely; the water consumed you. The longer you stayed under, the closer Joel edged to the water, ensuring you’d come up for a breath.

When you finally reemerged, you held a wicked grin.

“Don’t do that.” Joel frowned at your teasing. His eyes remained downcast, avoiding your eye. The rocks seemed more fascinating than how you became more siren-like by the minute. “I’m gonna find Ellie.”

“She deserves some privacy.” Despite her continuous puns, you were receptive to the fact that she was still impacted.

You all were.

Hyper vigilance became the enemy that threatened to consume Joel whole. Sleep was no longer negotiable. Every movement dragged worry, invited agitation, and controlled his violence. Joel’s chest was tight, and breathing felt hard to come by. He was moments away from unraveling.

“...There won’t be another invitation, Joel.”

Joel’s loaded gaze burned right through you as he took off his clothes. While he was busy shrugging out of his shirt, you took the opportunity to tread out further. Your back was to him, but you heard the swishing of disturbed water.

You reveled in the way your skin burned for him. He’d seen you naked years ago. But not like this, never like this.

----

Joel’s eyes followed the curve of your body. Your chest swayed as you moved around freely. His pounding heart clocked how too much time had passed for him to sneak out. He was frozen.

“You’re not Tommy.” You let out a breath of relief despite your surprise.

The lace rode high on your hips, accentuating your natural curve. Your chest was perked at the sudden attention of being caught so bare. Regardless of the incessant ringing in your ears, you stayed stone still, giving him a chance to say something.

Yet, he shook his head, backing out the door he’d come through, mumbling expected apologies. Joel used the key under the fern and let himself in.

For days he’d been asking Tommy for his tools back. And now, they were forgotten with each hurried step.

You threw on the closest shirt, chasing after him. “Wait!”

“I didn’t mean to-

“Joel, let me explain-

“No, I shouldn’t have-I-I’ll just-”

You found a way to stand before him, blocking his escape route perfectly. “Let’s just slow down…” Your hands were up in defense, mirroring his own. “It’s not what you think.”

Of all people, you wanted Joel to hear you. But the silence was heavy and lacked a proper explanation. You could see the flush that took over his coloring. It was sweet in a way, but you were too mortified to know what to make of it. It wasn’t exactly taught how to handle these sorts of things in school, so you stalled.

“Can I make you some coffee?” An invitation to linger.

Joel looked at you and saw your bare feet moving toward him with hope. He hadn’t meant to, but his eyes scanned your bare legs; the picture of the intricate fabric underneath the oversized shirt made his skin prick. It took him a moment to realize the shirt was his, one Tommy most likely nicked under his nose.

Doubting you knew what that did to him, Joel shook his head, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“One cup.” You promised.

The air was tense when you made it to the kitchen. You insisted on a fresh pot, but the drops felt like they took ages to fill it enough for its purpose. The hem of the shirt skirted the boundary of indecency, but you thought nothing of it. Your focus was on the longing stare Joel was giving you.

“Tommy and I…” You started with a shaky breath. You were sure Joel knew all about the drifting relationship. “I thought maybe this would…” It felt strange explaining yourself the way you had. But you wanted it to be known that even to you, it felt out of character. “He doesn’t look at me the same anymore…”

Your words feigned a sense of yearning. But neither you nor Tommy could keep up the act. Your words seemed heavy, but it was so alleviating to say aloud. To be listened to.

But the smell of coffee pulled you back, reminding you to be a good host. Filling the mugs just below the brim, you broke the small barrier of the kitchen island. You held the mug close to your chest, the warmth working as emotional support while Joel toyed with the ceramic handle.

You lifted the mug to your lips, blowing lightly over the piping-hot coffee, “...But neither do I.”

“I can talk to Tommy if you…” No matter how much it made Joel regret the offer, Joel said the right thing. He couldn’t meddle where he didn’t belong. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

You laughed into your mug. “I’d rather this stay our thing.”

“You say that like this is going to happen again.”

“Joel Miller.” You said his name after a pause. He looked like a child in trouble. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No, no, I-

“Joking.” You cut in just as awkwardly as he flushed.

You wanted the mood to lighten, needed it to.

But there was clumsiness in every movement, between your ongoing jitteriness and Joel’s restless fidgeting. So, you moved to the window. On the sill held your half-empty carton of cigarettes, the ones you were trying hard not to touch these days.

With a soft glance back to Joel, you asked, “Mind if I?”

Joel could spot the influences of Tommy in you. Or maybe you had passed along your habits. Either way, it was your home of sorts. Who was he to tell you no?

You had such dexterity with the process. It was like a ritual how you rolled the cigarette over your lips before lighting it. Then after a deep exhale, you utilized the perpetually open window to tap the beginnings of ash.

“I don’t mean to drag you into all of this…” You trailed off through an exhale of smoke through your nose. Joel could see the appeal now. “I just don’t-…Tommy’s my friend, and if I…I don’t know what’ll happen if we’re not…”

The end of something always hurt everyone around you. You all were just playing your roles in delaying the inescapable. But the questions of the future haunted you. You weren’t sure if you were ready to let it all go.

“I’ll let you leave…” You toyed with the lit cigarette that was on its last limb as you spoke. Joel’s silence was becoming deafening. “Promise I won’t hold you up any longer.”

You were sure he had more pressing matters than to comfort you through an inevitable breakup.

“Tommy’ll get over it.” Joel sat back with more relaxation now that he spoke his mind. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

----

Joel kept his distance deliberately. He made the venture into the water seem like another task. In and out.

“I don’t bite, you know.”

He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay quiet for too long. He knew what it meant to join you, but he made an effort to seem detached.

“Just giving you some privacy.” Joel echoed your words.

“Right.” Your frustration was clear. You carried it with you for the handful of days that passed. Your frustrations didn’t lie with him like Joel chose to believe.

Instead, guilt filled Joel’s chest. It had been gnawing at him since he left Boston. He should have left you there if he were as reliable as everyone claimed he was. You’d be without bruises. You’d be without his burden. Leaving without you meant there would be no return.

But you knew Joel. You had to remind yourself. You knew what he was thinking, what he wanted. That’s how you knew moving towards him would benefit the both of you.

You moved gradually, leading the interaction by brushing his hair behind his ears. The greys of his hair darkened with the water you carried on your fingertips. He looked younger. He looked like your Joel.

You reached for him, pulling him through the cool water to you. Joel was stiff when your chest met his warmly. He thought of pulling away, but you felt so peaceful that it swallowed him. Your arms wrapped around him with comfort. Your body settled in front of his, gently pressing your hips against him, giving him only an ounce of pressure to entice him.

He noted every twitch. Shyness wasn’t questioned; that barrier was broken years ago. It enabled you to trace his face. Every detail was already committed to memory.

You imagined what he’d say to you all those years ago—anything to make a smile crack.

Careful, now.

All you’re gonna find is a whole lot of ugly.

The scar above his eyebrow marked when your feelings for Joel first latched on. You were blinded by anger then, but the blood scared you. He promised you it was a graze and that he still had his life. But that wasn’t enough proof for you.

When your thumb traced over the faint line, Joel finally found his voice again, “Your shooting’s still sloppy.”

The look Joel held was intimidating, scrutinizing, but you knew he was trying to be witty.

“See now, when you say things like that…” You whispered softly due to the proximity, “I don’t regret shooting you.”

He hummed, appreciating your touch that ventured to his shoulders. You could feel under your hands the tension he held. You wanted nothing more than to provide relief.

“Joel.”

Just his name made your desire clear. He wanted to touch you all those years ago, but he’d never betray his brother like that. But now you invited him to you without any barriers. There was hesitancy in the hold Joel found on your hips. His mind wandered; wavered between the need and the want.

Starting at the swirl of hair on his chest, you followed the trail down until Joel’s breath hitched. Joel felt like he was about to lose it when your hand wrapped around him.

“This feel okay?” You moved your hand against him, slow and soft.

Water dripped from his nose to your shoulder as he nodded eagerly. His groan rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against your own. You tread in dangerous territory but recognized the privilege of his trust.

This was for Joel. You needed this just as much as he did. You didn’t worry if it functioned as a thank you for keeping you alive, an apology for the trouble you’d caused him, or a confession of your own.

It didn’t matter when you indulged in your own lust.

“Do you think of me when you’re on your own?” You asked, fingers wrapped around his shaft, squeezing him until you felt his pulse in your grip.

“Oh- Fuck-” He cut himself off before he let a pet name slip. Joel’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, imprinting his touch into your skin, burned to your very bone.

“Hmm?” You edged him further. Gently, you continued to pump him and move your thumb over his tip.

Joel’s ragged breath fell on your pulse point with each moan as you continued to pump him rhythmically. His hand came up to your throat in a tender hold. His lips hover over yours but refrained from connecting.

It would be too intimate if you had.

“Do you want me to?” The hold gave him dominance even as he shuddered under your touch. Always desiring control.

The water around you rippled with your continued movements. With his free hand, his thumb rubbed gently at the sensitive skin that was near the pebbles of your breast, but he made no effort to touch it just yet. His words and touch were a deadly combination, the kind that made you ache.

“Would that be so bad?” You spoke on his lips, feeling the tickle of his mustache. The more you worked on his release the more you felt his warm pants turn into deep moans. “Come on now, Miller,” You coaxed softly, moving up and down his length with a lively pattern, teasingly and tauntingly. “Tell me.”

Joel’s words were caught in his throat as ecstasy flowed through his veins as the pleasure crashed. His hips jerked against you as his breathing became ragged and his moans became filthy.

He sighed with relief, abandoning himself. He groaned into you, nuzzling his nose in your neck as the aftershocks made him tremble. He could feel your hand threading in his hair, keeping him in your tight embrace.

“Yes.”

2K notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 1 year ago

Text

the scars, the wound

summary: heizou has two important skills: his intuition and his martial arts. he prefers not to use the latter when working on cases, but what happens when the first fails him?

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: mention/implication of violence near the end.. minor spoilers for heizou lore?

-> gn reader (you/yours)

-> if this looks familiar, it’s a rewrite of this. i didn’t think i posted that draft because it was in need of so much improvement when i recently re-found it, and didn’t realize until after already posting this… whoops.

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

heizou’s intuition is wrong, for once. it’s impossibly unlikely, something he can’t remember happening before, but it’s the only logical explanation.

he’s walking through ritou, taking a minor detour along the beach. why, he’s not certain, but some string in his stomach insisted he went. and so, following his intuition, he did.

at first, it’s sand. as all beaches are. he finds himself scanning the shore for anything strange, kicking at a few odd looking rocks. he even checks a few times with elemental sight, but all he gets are the faint wisps of hydro lingering on the sand. not that that meant much—his elemental affinity was never the highest, kazuha was far more reliable for this sort of thing—but normally he could at least gather a general idea of what his mind was trying to tell him… but not this time.

no, when he saw you sitting in the sand, it was the last thing he could have expected.

he stops, squinting a bit. the sky is darkening, approaching dusk, and he was meant to be going to a meeting with thoma. to bother a random civilian and make himself late wasn’t ideal, but to scare you off if you were a criminal could possibly be worse. so, he approaches quietly, noting the way you turned as he did.

and then he recognizes you, all at once. your face was reflected in the posters plastered all over the city, in word-of-mouth descriptions from other officers—you’re the one the whole world’s been looking for. your skin is dirty and your clothes could certainly use a few hours with a needle and thread, and paper doesn’t quite capture the blank look in your eyes as well.

still, he crouches down with a wave, crossing his arms on his knees. “hey there! detective heizou of the tenry-“

“i know you.”

your voice sends a chill down his spine. it pulls at something deep in his core, his soul screaming that you are friend, not foe. briefly, he wonders why he stopped here at all, and then shock hits him like a punch to the gut.

for the first time in a long time, his instincts were wrong.

wrong, because you’re a fugitive.

his smile turns strained, unable to shake the feeling that he’s doing something wrong despite knowing he’s within full legal right. his skin prickles, and he digs his nails into his arm guards to keep steady. “do you? gotta say, i can’t blame you. my name is flung around quite a lot.”

you’re tense but not running. you know him, you know who he is, so…

blank eyes peer at him from under the overgrown shags of your hair, half-lidded and tired. his mind constructs a metaphor without his asking, as if attempting to make sense of something far more complex than you; jewelry, rusted and ancient, luster long lost across the years.

he almost feels sympathetic, but he’s not sure why. he should hate you. you fly in the face of everything he stood for—truth, justice, his creator—but he can’t find the will to do anything to arrest you. he knows he could apprehend you in an instant, between his skill and your exhaustion, but he doesn’t. and he doesn’t know why.

it bothers him.

“so, what’re you doing on ritou? need any help getting a permit to the rest of the island?”

he tells himself he’s asking because doing that would force your hand, not because he wants to help. that’s ridiculous. when did he start thinking this way? has he caught a cold, by chance?

“no.”

“then surely there’s a more comfortable place to be than the beach?” what’s he doing? why does he care? who cared if sand plastered your skin, if you got sick from being outside? “tides get pretty high around here, it would do you good to find a place to rest.”

you look out to the sea, some of the tension leaving your body. it’s not relaxation, more like surrender. “i don’t have anywhere to go.”

his chest is beginning to feel oddly tight.

it’s like he’s seeing the stars themselves in your eyes despite the darkness and the fact that that’s not possible. there’s a small shimmer to them, the sun itself contained inside, a glow that shows when they flicker over him like you’re pulling out all of his secrets. he’s not sure why he wants to give them to you. “i’m sure you know that, though.”

he does, he knows, he was at the meeting with kujou sara and the rest of the police force. he was the one she pulled aside to personally ask he put his full attention on it—as if he hadn’t already the second she mentioned his god—and he’s heard of the stories from the mainland. he knows everything, he’s read over every single report he could get imported, and yet every word you say feels brand new. when you say ‘you’ it feels like you’re the first person to ever lay on him, and it’s scary that he doesn’t find that frightening. his mouth is dry, all of his normal quick retorts and easy replies falling out of his reach. he settles for a nod, and you look back to the sea.

you look dull, his mind says, pulling on all of his vocabulary to try and connect a sentence together that properly describes it. your entire form feels… fleeting? no, not that. impermanent, maybe, like fog. so dense from afar, yet vanishing once he gets close. you’re… everywhere, a mist lingering in the air, waiting for him to look away so you can take a solid form again.

are you a youkai looking for a bit of fun? perhaps he’s mistaken. maybe he’d guessed wrong, maybe you’d just stolen another’s face for a prank.

…that’s stupid. since when has that been one of his first explanations for something? no, something’s wrong- he has to get this- this spell off of him. now he remembers, the paper from the alchemist from mondstat, he remembers, he remembers-

he-

he remembers the soft smile on his father’s face, wiping the dirt from his knees. “you must be careful,” he says, careful not to irritate the scrapes with the cloth. “you have been blessed with this mind of yours, but you must be wise enough to use it properly.”

“i’m wise!” he insists, and his father laughs, reaching for the bandages at his side.

“you’re intuitive,” he corrects. “and every day i pray to our god that you to learn the difference.”

heizou tears his eyes away from you, pretending that the sand isn’t blurry.

you’re a fraud. he has to arrest you. you’re tricking the people, you’re impersonating the highest deity, the literal god of gods, youve fooled even his own mind, you have to be stopped. for the good of the world. for the good of the earth. for the hood of his god.

…so…

“why aren’t you trying to kill me yet?”

his heart both flares and breaks, hands twitching for both his cuffs and to hold you close. your voice is so rough, so cracked and tattered and filled with something similar enough to betrayal that it’s paralyzing.

he needs to arrest you.

(he needs to get you water.)

he has to bring you in so the shogun can kill you.

(he has to get you a room somewhere so you can rest. you look so tired.)

his mind is as blurred as his sight, confusion instead of tears muddling his thoughts.

what’s happening? why does his mind like (adore, want, need, worship) you so much, when he knows he has to take you in? he’s been given direct orders, he knows what he has to do, so why can’t he do it? when did he fall for such easy tricks? he’s shikanoin heizou, the most trusted detective of the tenryou commission, and he cannot be swayed by your words. he can’t afford to be.

(it’s not just your words. the air around you is so soft, so welcoming, inviting him to sit in the sand with you until it’s dawn again. he’s at ease in a way he hasn’t been in a long while, even despite the stress of the situation. he should, in reasonable circumstances, be stressed, but you’ve cleared his mind to a simple volley between two ideas: his loyalty to his god, and his newfound loyalty to you.)

he wants to tell you that he’d never want to hurt you. “i try to leave that to the higher-ups” is what he says instead.

you sign, running a shaking hand over your hair. it’s full of sand and salt and needs to be cut, badly. you take an equally unsteady breath, and when you speak you sound like you’re about to cry. “i don’t want to fight you, heizou.”

the way you say his name fills his chest with something hotter than fire and sweeter than honey, a supernova made into sugar and placed into the gap left by his heart.

the last of the sun shines off the water and outlines you in its glow, the only thought in his mind that of your beauty.

he licks his lips—they taste of salt—and forces words to come up. “i don’t want to fight you either.”

it’s the truth, and he hates that it is.

instead of saying anything else, you stand, and heizou scrambles to follow. he tells himself it’s because he needs to be ready to run after you. that’s it. that’s all. you take a step away and he is quick to match it, transfixed as you pick up a long wooden staff, akin to a walking stick. it’s taller than you are, and he’s not sure how he missed it laying beside you.

“you’ll lose your job if you don’t, detective.”

he might.

heizou blinks.

…he won’t.

no… he won’t.

facing you head on, the acceptance in your eyes is clearer, like you knew it would come to this. his hand drifts to his baton hesitantly, and sees your grip on the wood. it’s splintered, he notices, likely a piece of driftwood you found along the beach.

why is he waiting? why is he stalling?

he’s let this go on for too long already. he’s being ridiculous. this is wrong. it’s his job to take in criminals and he’s staring at one of the worst, so what is he hesitating for?

against his better judgement, he tightens his hands to fists. he’ll be gentle, he promises himself, but it doesn’t soothe the storm in his head. he‘ll be careful, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still likely to hurt you. maybe by the end of it, if he’s clever with the use of his vision, you’d barely have a bruise. did you even know how to fight properly? you don’t seem all that confident in your weapon. at least that’ll make his job easier, right?

he’s stalling again.

heizou takes a breath. against his intuition, he takes the first swing.

516 notes · View notes

needle-thread-thimble-spear · 3 months ago

Text

Revolutionary Girl Utena and Epistemic Violence

Why Anthy is not a trans girl (but she is to me)

Ohtori, as any good setting tends to, carries a lot of thematic weight. It’s a fairy world, where metaphorical illusion blurs personal hopes over a poisoned interior structure, to the point where an outside perspective may struggle to distinguish between what a character is thinking and what is actually happening. Time and memory are suggestions whispered in the ear of its students, a cyclic hell where the same puppets are played in position, memories broken but dreams intact, to test new victims and forge new swords. A kingdom of nowhen, ruled from above by a king that refuses to see that the prison he built cannot ever free him. A hierarchy where the misogyny taught to children to prepare them for the grown up version is baked into the very structure of the world, belying a culture of horrible sexual violence. And at the very bottom of that hierarchy, the victim-witch, is the kings own sister. A sort of broken Omelas, where one girl must suffer forever and ever, not to end the suffering of others, but to keep them in the dark. Especially her brother. What Ohtori is, and the hierarchies that it represents both within the work and outside of it, hinges on the suffering of that girl. And, maybe more importantly, her silence.

Revolutionary Girl Utena changed my life. I’ve been saying this nearly two years now, mostly as a joke, but with distance I can see it really isn’t. When you are in the depths of an abusive relationship, it is extremely difficult to see what’s happening to you. I don’t wish to dwell on my own story here too much, but how can I ignore it? RGU was the language I used to understand what had happened to me. Images from the show flit through my mind as though I were a Tamarian. Utena, in the window. Anthy, with the candelabra. Utena, her hands cut with thorns. Anthy with the white beret. After finishing the show for the first time I felt sickened. Not merely because of the subject matter depicted, raw and horrible as it is, but because I saw myself in it. Why do I feel such a kinship with Anthy?

I think, dear reader, you may be able to imagine the horror inherent to that realization. You might have felt it, you may be feeling it now.

It seemed obvious to me then, for reasons I could not begin to fathom, that Anthy was a trans girl. Reeling from my first watch, this felt like the only conclusion I could draw though I couldn’t tell you why. For years, I have drafted and redrafted essays attempting to justify this feeling. Recently, I posted an reading of Miki as a transfem character, and I don’t feel particularly strongly about that reading! Sure, aspects of his character were relatable to me, I could draw analogies well enough, but that was completely secondary to my actual goal. Practice for the transfem Anthy essay. Looking back on what I’d written now, I don’t. Hate? What I wrote. There’s definitely some aspects I’d repudiate now. If you enjoyed reading it, if it meant something to you, I’m glad. But even as I was writing it it felt incomplete and limited. And I believe I understand why.

What did I get wrong about Miki and Kozue? What lies in Ohtori’s heart? What lies in that bed of rotten rose petals?

We all know what does, but we do not want to see it and certainly don’t want to talk about it.

It’s Nanami’s disgust with Anthy, with herself. It’s Miki and Kozue’s confused but earnest posturing. It’s Utena looking up at Akio, it’s Anthy’s vacant stare.

Even here, I’m speaking in abbreviated reference. But it’s abuse, sexual, at times incestuous abuse, that touches every character in RGU.

I’d recently seen a few posts which I think hit on a really common phenomena among fans of the show. Our own stories, our own disgust, our own fears and our own traumas, sort of get in the way when we talk about RGU. I think it’s a natural consequence. RGU deals with heavy subject matter that is very difficult to sit with. I don’t think it’d be incorrect to say most western fans of RGU are queer in some way. We’re much more likely, as consequence, to suffer from interpersonal abuse. And naturally, we are drawn to these characters since they represent, with so few holds barred, some of our worst experiences. But does that make them like us?

For the record, I think it would be ridiculous to suggest that RGU isn't a queer show and that it isn't filled with queer characters. But, for as obvious a conclusion as this is, a surprising depth of that queerness is veiled in subtext. It’s worth considering, the endless arguments over whether Anthy and Utena are lesbians or bisexual, is sort of inconsequential. The important thing is that they have escaped, together! We could suppose that, were Ohtori a real place, we could go track down the two of them and demand from them an answer. How do you feel, Anthy, about your attraction to Akio? What does that mean to you? Would you please quell that horrible disgust we feel thinking about it? Inquiring readers would like to feel better know!

When one leaves Ohtori, one leaves the view of the audience. Utena and Anthy are in love with one another, but what that means to them (and themselves) is out of our reach.

And yet, I can’t seem to shake my original conclusion, from my first watch. Surely it cannot be intended! Hell, even the fact that Anthy is desi is sort of incidental to any commentary on social injustice, the motivation for depicting her (and Akio) this way was to exoticize them relative to the rest of the school. So is this image of Anthy as a brown trans girl, her position in Ohtori being a result of transmisogyny, some western myopia? Mere projection of the aggrieved self on a character who, by her nature, absorbs the feelings and impressions of those around her?

Sort of?

Revolutionary Girl Utena was created in a Japanese cultural context, to be sure, but it’s worth noting that while the precise execution of (trans)misogyny and other gender injustices may vary from culture to culture, patriarchy isn’t exactly exclusive to the west. There is a lot of different directions we could run in here, but the one I want to focus on is epistemic violence (a good primer linked here if the term is unfamiliar). *

In Ohtori, all girls are like princesses, unless they are like witches. And, sooner or later, all girls are like the rose bride, the doll-witch, the synthesis. This is how patriarchy works. There is a concept of “permissible” femininity, and an “impermissible” feminity. There is the wife, the mother, the domestic servant, who is permitted some limited social power by her utility to a patriarch (primarily as a mother to trueborn children). Then there is, well, everyone else. “Loose” women, sure, but also those who have been damaged by sexual violence. Those who cannot bear children, because of some accident of their physiology. These women are used, for feminized labor, for sex, but because of the stigma associated with them and the issues they present toward patrilineal succession, they are subject to various censure. One does not talk about survivors of sexual violence or sex workers in polite society. It is possible for some to travel between these two categories, although it is far, far easier to go from “type 1” to “type 2” than the other direction. Indeed, for some it is not possible to have ones “virtue” restored. If we aren’t being reduced to predatory inhuman monsters, trans women, both a hypersexualized object of intense fetishization and incapable of bearing children, are placed into the second category automatically. Lots of would be abusers are happy to whisper in our ears, that they will treat us like we are “type 1”, but invariably they do not.**

The most maddening thing to me about being a trans woman is this, inability for anyone to see the violence that happens to you. People don’t believe you can be the subject of (sexual) violence, even though the fact it occurs to you, regularly, should be obvious to anyone who thinks about how we are perceived for just a moment! You cannot speak up without sounding delusional, it can happen right in front of a stranger, your best friend, and they wont bat an eye. That you are so incredibly disgusting, no one would want to hurt you that way.

Anthy isn’t a trans girl. But the system that silences her, treats her like she deserves her victimization, that she is irrevocably tainted by her relationship with Akio, the system that keeps us, the audience, from internalizing the dreadful truth of her character, this veil of silence, of covered ears and closed eyes, is extant in the lives of all misbegotten gender-oppressed rejects. If we are going to draw analogies between ourselves and Anthy, or Utena, or Nanami, or any the rest of them, we need to pull back that veil. Indeed, it's confronting (and then escaping from) that choking, word-stopping bile that sits at the core of RGU's thesis. I don’t think it’s wrong for us to relate to the characters in RGU, and write about that. But we might stop to consider why before we do!

*If you’re curious to read more about patriarchy across cultures, here is a really incisive article on the phenomena of third sexing, the operation of (trans)misogyny and gendered violence in parallel across cultural contexts, and how that relates to the western and desi sphere (but also more broadly).

**It should also be noted that there can be no comparison of suffering of anyone under patriarchy. Even the most vaunted cis man, I suppose. But there can be a comparison of power, and this is why we discuss it rather than throw up our hands.

Thank you for reading, I think this is the last I'm going to write about RGU for a while, though there's quite a bit I want to say about Utena and Anthy's relationship. So someday, I'll get around to more! And a perennial thank you to @empty-movement for the high quality archival images.

#revolutionary girl utena #anthy himemiya #akio ohtori #touga kiryuu #utena tenjou #spinning

50 notes · View notes

indigos-stardust · 2 months ago

Text

Violet, Blue, And Bruised All Over: Long Talks

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6

Note: this has been in my draft for at least 2 weeks, hit a slump and then a hyperfixation couldn't write lol. so this is alot shorter and the drawings wont make as much sense without part like?? 6.5???... but I just wanted to post it cuz I felt bad

Reblogs and comments appreciated <3 I wanna hear y'all's thoughts >:3c

Red and Blue: a deep conversation filled with compassion and vulnerability:

Meanwhile Vio and Green:

(sorry I haven't updated this in a while, real life calls :')

The following days were hell. Red knew how much fights shredded his heart into a bajillion tiny pieces, but really the forced normalcy was so much worse!

The two had gotten an even bigger longer (and honestly ranty) lecture from Green the next day. Red didn't think it really helped much. Like sure they were cowed into NOT biting each other or whatever, but c'mon!

It felt like everyone was mad at everyone else! And even though technically no one was really mad at him, they were all mad at each other which- considering they were all sorta kinda not really the same person? It still felt that way!

Green had gotten really bossy and super serious, and Blue and Vio were just avoiding each other like the plague! Whenever they did come into "an unfortunate proximity" as Vio put it, there wasn't anything but a ton of silent hate! Red really just wanted to curl up into a little hole and die. Well not really! But like, emotionally! Just a bit!

Green kept pushing them to talk about the details, but neither one would talk. Red decided to try asking them one on one, you know, use his charm a bit and soften the edges- But even when he cried it didn't work! Him crying always worked! Especially when he said just the right words in just the right way to softly push them into making a realization.

Red wouldn't really call himself a manipulator in that sense, because hey! He was using his powers for good, right? At least most of the time, anyways. It was a useful way to get out of trouble and get things he wanted...

By why couldn't it work now when he needed it most!!

Vio just treated him like how a parent would to their kid when the kid just, well, asked about death or some hard grownup topic. Like Red just simply wouldn't understand and not to worry about it- But he was worrying! He knew Vio just didn't want him to be sad but still...

Then Blue- Well, Blue was just sad. And a little p*ssed. But it was clear he was just mostly sad. At least when he talked to Red anyways. At first he had been all huffy and insisted that it was all so stupid, so why even bring it up anyways? Because it was "over already!" Which, no that was super stupid of Blue to think, because obviously all their relationships were like super mega sad???

When Red expressed that sentiment though, it seemed to change something in Blue. Blue just closed up and got all quiet. He hated when Blue did that. But it also meant his plan was working. Blue may be a little, uhm, explosive to people and things when he got upset- But really if he was like actually really seriously upset? Then he got all quiet and intense all by himself. But Red knew how to pry all those layers off, even if it was just melting his way though each one of Blue's icy walls, one at a time.

Not even a day later of the guilt obviously devouring Blue inside out, and clearly losing against his ego. (Red knew that's what happened, he probably didn't want to be the "first one to show weakness" and just talk about how his feelings were hurt and acted like he was just all angry and didn't care, but Blue was a big softie and no amount of pouting was gonna change that in Red's eyes.)

They'd been walking to the training yards extremely early in the morning, the sun had barely peeked over the horizon really. In Red's opinion, going all the way to the castle to train in the big professional courtyard before the birds even woke up was probably some sort of crime against humanity. And him. But Red was so close to getting Blue to spill! SO he had to stick with Blue the whole time to make sure his plan would work. He just had to be consistent! Even if... it was at like... Red blearily squinted against the horizon. Five AM? Uegh.

Green was right about those too being similar. But it wasn't just cuz they were so stubborn. More like they were both weirdos that had a vendetta against sleep. Seriously, would it kill Blue to sleep in for five more minutes...

37 notes · View notes

jo-harrington · 1 year ago

Text

Interview Prep (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried about making a change to some routines.

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.03

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual Pining and Slow Burn, Meeting the Family, Anxiety, Fluff

Note: Special thanks to @chestylarouxx @fracturedarkness and @courtingchaos for reading my snippets, listening to my rambling, and easing my nerves with this one. It's been in my drafts since February! And it's always kind of eluded me, but it's very special so I appreciate the time you took to help me out. So so much.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

“…and I swear the sound is so much better than my Fender. Like a thousand times better. I’m gonna need a new amp, I think. She is way too good for that hunk of junk that Rick got from his buddy way back when.”

“Uh huh.”

“God, I wish you could come to a show to hear it. Maybe...maybe I can ask Tom at the Hideout if our set could be a little later one night so you could come out after the store closed?"

"Sure."

“And then we could get pickle and bologna milkshakes at Benny's afterwards."

"Sounds great."

"Am I boring you?” Eddie finally stopped as he hit the button on the bailer and put his hands on his hips. "You're not even listening."

“What?” You freed yourself from your thoughts and got a good look at him. "I...what? No."

It was break time, which meant cardboard got crushed and garbage tossed before you ventured into the food court for something to eat. And on a day like today when your schedules aligned, that also meant your break was spent with your closest friend--only friend--in Hawkins.

And on any other day, you would have happily listened to his story.

Hell, you actually had listened to him...for most of it at least--he boasted about his new guitar, how he named her Sweetheart, and her first actual performance outside of Gareth's garage that had occurred the night prior--before you got too caught up in your own head.

It had been a normal Wednesday when you got to the store for your opening shift. The registers were counted, gate pushed up, and you were about to confidently post the new schedule.

Then the mail was delivered.

And with it, a larger envelope from home office that contained a very hefty packet inside.

Normally a package like that would make you happy; it was a sign that one of your favorite weeks of the year was approaching: planogram week. It was, quite honestly, not only your favorite week but your favorite part of the job altogether. More than your team, more than your discount...certainly more than helping customers.

Summer was coming to an end, which meant all of the trendy accessories would make way for backpacks, water bottles, notebooks, and lunch boxes. Things that stayed hidden away for 75% of the year, but were suddenly at the forefront of every parent and pre-teen's mind as they got ready to look their best on the first day of school.

Today, however, you suddenly felt a sense of dread as you opened the package because a planogram meant that you would have to schedule an overnight shift on the one night of the week that the mall closed early.

Sunday Night.

Date Night with Eddie.

Eddie's favorite night. And yours.

Your favorite part of your job encroached on what was becoming an essential part of your life.

So you spiraled until your break because it was easier to worry and overthink than it was to just...communicate the fact that you might have to miss a Sunday and face the possibility that Eddie could be mad at you.

Unfortunately he seemed a little steamed right now because he thought you hadn't been listening to him.

His little grumpy face was cute though.

Why was this harder than having to call your team to ask if they were ok with an unexpected overnight shift? God damn it, you needed to get a grip.

“You weren’t listening to anything I said,” he repeated.

“Yes I was,” you insisted.

“What did I say then?”

“You nailed the solo.”

“And…”

“And you actually got a round of applause.”

“And?”

“And you need a new amp.”

“And?”

“Uhm… a-and…”

Shit…maybe you had delved a little bit too far.

Growing up with a big, loud family--including an overbearing mother and two annoying brothers--meant you had the innate ability to split your brain in half and listen to them while also worrying about your own shit.

However, thanks to the intensity of your worrying, that ability failed you.

You wracked your brain for a good 30 seconds until Eddie’s scowl turned into a wicked smile, and then you knew he was just being a jerk.

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled at him.

“Excuse me,” he placed a hand on his chest in fake affront and stumbled back a few steps to collapse against the side of the trash compactor. “I'm the worst? You agreed to Pickle and Bologna milkshakes and ignored your best friend. Not very metal, sweetheart."

"I just have a lot on my mind." You shook your head and sighed. "Sorry."

"Well it's a good thing that I am a great listener. Unlike someone."

Eddie pushed himself off the compactor, put his hand on your shoulder, and guided you back inside to the food court. You got your meals of choice and tucked yourselves into a table in the corner by the JCPenney entrance.

"Alright," he started with his mouth full of fries. "Tell dear old Eddie what's bothering you."

You swallowed a mouthful of food and took a deep breath.

It was now or never.

"Well...there's this big thing coming up at work...planogram...uh...floor set," you began. "And it's really important and after it's done...we'll get visitors from corporate and my boss will probably make a few visits to see how it's going. I just want to do really well."

"Well, you've been doing a good job so far right?" Eddie shrugged. "Why wouldn't they think so now?"

"I don't know, I don't wanna mess it up," you admitted. "I'm a new store manager. And a lot of the team never worked retail before. I literally cried my first floor set as a sales associate. It's tough."

"You're just giving yourself the yips. I do it all the time when we add a new song to the set list."

"Don't just say that to make me feel better."

"Last week I forgot how to do a G-chord," he crossed his heart. "Scouts honor."

"You were a Boy Scout?" you asked skeptically.

"Stop distracting me." He popped another French fry in his mouth in an exaggerated fashion. "What else?"

"Well...we have to schedule floor sets on a Sunday."

"Ok."

"After the store closes."

"...Oh."

"Yeah."

Eddie sipped his drink thoughtfully and stared at you with his abyss-like eyes; they didn't betray a single thought going through his head and it made you nervous.

And nervous meant that you didn't shut up.

"I mean I don't want to have to cancel our night out," you started with the word vomit. "It's just the way things are always done and you'll see one day if you still work at Tape World for long enough, that's one of those things that...I don't know, if you try to do things differently it always comes back to bite you in the ass.

"And I'm young and whenever we have a conference call to talk about sales...my DM doesn't let me forget that I'm a baby compared to everyone else and it's so frustrating because I feel like I can't even suggest anything new because it immediately is dismissed as naive. It's like they keep waiting for me to fail. So I wish...I wish I could make a change so we could keep our plans. Like if it was anything else I could make it work but I...this thing I just can't, you know?

"But...but...b-because I would have to work on Sunday overnight I would probably be off another day so if you're ok with it we can do something else? Maybe on...I don't think I could get Tuesday off because of everyone's availability...maybe Friday if your friends are cool with me crashing your club night. Or...you open on Saturdays. We could do Saturday night instead?"

The punctuation to the drawn out sentence was your labored breath and Eddie noisily sucking the dregs of his soda through the straw. Shithead that he was didn't even have the decency to do anything but continue watching you with his big dumb cute eyes.

"Weeellllll..." he started in a sing-song tone and then paused and sucked at the straw some more.

Could he just tell you to fuck off already so this wouldn't be as painful as it was?

"That really sucks you need to work overnight," he finished his thought with a grin and shoved his cup to the side. "Being in the mall after hours...sounds kinda creepy. Do you think there are ghosts?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" you deadpanned. "You let me go on and on like that for nothing?"

"It was funny."

"I hate you."

"You cherish me."

"It was painful." You groaned. "Like I think I'm sweating. My heart hurts Edward."

"Don't act like you've never let me do that before," he scoffed and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. You threw a fry at him. "Don't start what you can't finish sweetheart. One fry can turn into a food fight and I would hate to find out the hard way why I'm Hawkins High's food fighting champion."

"Ok so...Saturday night?" you asked. "This Saturday...are you doing anything?"

"Uh..." Eddie hesitated and sat up a little straighter. "I mean...no hot dates or anything. What did you have in mind?"

"Maybe just what we normally do?" you suggested. "Drive around, eat a bunch of junk food. Or if you want to come over to my place and I--"

"So, I have a confession to make," he interrupted you. "I actually do have plans on Saturday. More like...standing plans than anything. My uncle Wayne is off on Saturdays and we've always watched reruns on TV and ordered pizza. Family night or whatever. My mom used to do the same thing so...Wayne thought it would be...I dunno, good for stability or something.

"It's silly but I don't want to just ditch him without asking," Eddie explained and your heart melted.

Of course you didn't want to take time away from his family; you knew how important his uncle was to him.

"Oh...well that's ok...we can rain check for another day then or--"

"Why don't you just come over?" Eddie asked. "He won't mind. I am opening this Saturday so I'll be done by 5; you can get there in time for Wheel of Fortune. That way he can't yell at me when I try to solve the puzzles with lewd words." He mimics, what you assume is, Wayne's voice.

Eddie looked so eager that you immediately agreed.

Your heart stopped in your chest though.

Come over? And meet his uncle?

Sure...you'd already met Benny a few weeks ago...and yeah you'd thought of it like meeting someone from Eddie's family but...this was his actual family. What if you insulted his uncle or...or made yourself look stupid.

You needed to put your best foot forward. Make a good impression.

"How about..." your mouth started moving before your brain could catch up. "...instead of ordering pizza, I cook for you guys instead? I'll be off Saturday since I'm doing the overnight on Sunday. I can just bring everything over."

Eddie's eyes lit up and as he teased you about the impressive cooking skills that you had supposedly boasted about previously, all you could think was...

How did this situation get even more stressful?

---

The rest of the week leading up to Saturday had been overwhelming to say the least.

To you, food was life. Cooking for someone was everything that you could do to show them that you cared. How many hours had you spent with your grandma making cookies for neighbors at Christmas, or freezer meals when a distant relative had a baby, or a tray of something after a friend of the family had passed.

Food was love and friendship, and as much as what you had done for Eddie with the guitar had been a show of friendship...this meant so much more.

So you needed to hit a home run...or a bullseye...or whatever sports terminology signified that you won.

Which meant you'd spent some down time flipping through your grandma's old recipes that she had gifted you once upon a time--a thin, pocket-sized spiral notebook with a purple cover that was filled with her illegible handwriting and personal shorthand--and thinking of ideas that would be both impressive and hearty. You'd already changed your mind twice, and had made just as many trips to Bradleys for extra ingredients.

You'd also pestered Eddie several times through the course of the week to get his input without giving anything away.

"Does your uncle like cheese?"

"Of course he does."

"Some people don't."

"Would we get pizza every Saturday if we didn't like cheese?"

"There's some pizza that doesn't have cheese."

"Why the questions? Are you nervous sweetheart?"

And that was when he started to tease you. Every chance he got. Lunches, breaks, passing you on the way to the employee lot as you started a shift and he ended one.

He asked if you wanted their phone number so you could call Wayne and make kissy noises at each other for hours, if you wanted him to bring love letters home to save on stamps, and if you were planning to dress really nice for your date with his uncle.

"I'll be sure to grab extra chapstick for him so his lips are ready for you tomorrow," he laughed and leaned closer to make the biggest, noisiest smacking kiss noise in your ear as you waited for your break time cookies.

"You're an idiot," you rolled your eyes after he uttered the last one. "I don't want him to hate me because...what if he doesn't want me to hang around you anymore. I'd kind of lose my mind."

"Oh, uh," Eddie backed away a little bit and rubbed the back of his neck, then shoved his hands in his back pockets. "Wayne wouldn't do that. He's...a little bit of a grump, but he's harmless."

"Guess we know where you got it from," you muttered.

"I didn't know you were...actually worried," Eddie continued. "I'm sorry. But it'll be ok. Even if you...wore a potato sack and brought canned beans that we had to heat on the stove for dinner. He'll think you're great. Because you are."

You were both a little silent after that, Eddie staring at his feet bashfully as you felt your heart race and your head spin.

You finalized your plans that night when you got home and immediately started on your dessert, sure that it was all gonna be a hit with both Munsons.

It was gonna be great. Because Eddie thought you were great.

And Saturday, the doubt didn't creep on you at all. Not while you cooked, not as you packed your casserole dish and Tupperware into a large cooler bag, and not even as you drove across town, following Eddie's directions to Forest Hills without getting lost once.

It wasn't until you stepped out of your car and stared at the front door that you felt your stomach drop a little.

Those four cement steps might as well have been a thousand.

But...your sneakers only needed to crunch on the gravel before the door was thrown open and a slightly-breathless Eddie smiled at you...and then all the worry disappeared.

"Hey," he greeted. "D-did you need any help?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," you shrugged.

He jogged down the steps in socked-feet and crossed to the passenger's side door of your car, talking a mile a minute as he reached in to grab your things.

"I, uh, got home an hour ago," he rambled. "The A/C at the store conked out...and then Paulie had me make a trash run before I left. Had a big shipment today. So if I'm still a little sweaty...that's why."

"You're fine," you laughed.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry. I've been cooking so I'm probably a little sweaty too. Lasagna and July...sort of don't go together that well."

He raced up the steps and held the door open for you.

"Lasagna? Oh the old man is gonna love you," Eddie chuckled.

You entered the Munson abode and were immediately hit by the strongest sense of home that you'd felt since...well, since you'd still been at home. Not necessarily that it was a place where you belonged, but...it was a place of belonging.

Mugs and hats and other memorabilia lined the walls, reminiscent of the tchotchkes that your mother stacked to high heaven on every available surface. The couch was a little faded but looked comfortable and soft as though you could sink into the cushions and disappear into a soft nether-realm.

Your grandpa had a couch like that. His spot sunk to the shape of his body. It was still your favorite place to sit when he wasn't already there. It was like a hug.

That was when your eyes found the armchair, molded around the shape of the man seated in it. He was older, a little weathered and greying, hairline receding, and even though he isn't smiling right now, the lines around his mouth were indication enough that he smiled quite a bit.

Just like his nephew.

"Uh, Wayne this is my friend from the mall," Eddie introduced you as he juggled your cooler bag and your large Tupperware to the kitchen counter. "The one I told you about. Works at the jewelry store."

"Nice to meet you," you smiled and held a hand out to him to shake. He took your hand in a firm grasp and as you shook his the way your grandfather taught you--to command respect and trust--his eyes narrowed.

"I had to hear about you through Rick, who heard about you through Benny," Wayne started. "And I haven't the slightest idea why my nephew thought he needed to keep you a secret; not the first girlfriend he's brought around--"

Eddie groaned something unintelligible from the kitchen and you fought the urge to break eye contact with Wayne so you could look at him.

"--but I just watched him run around for the past hour tidying up. And he's never done that before. So if you can help him keep the habit, you're alright in my book." Wayne smiled widely and let your hand go.

"Thank you," you chuckled nervously, suddenly realizing how silly it had been that you were even worried in the first place.

Eddie had been right.

You could never admit that to him.

"Even did the dishes," Wayne looked past you at Eddie. "He never does the dishes."

"W-we're having dinner," Eddie whined. "Gotta have clean plates."

The two of them bantered back and forth comfortably and you joined Eddie in the kitchen to get everything plated. There was a salad, buttery mashed potatoes, and of course your still-warm and gooey lasagna.

Eddie explained that it was Wayne's favorite that he rarely got to have homemade--

"Stoffers will do in a pinch," Wayne explained.

--and that you were already more loved than he was simply for making it, to which Wayne agreed. And he even pointed out the well-loved Garfield mug that he had gotten Wayne for Father's Day one year for that fact alone.

Eddie tried to protest when you took the dessert bowl from him to stow it away in the fridge until it was the appropriate time.

"I didn't even get to have cookies with you today," he reasoned. "Or a soda. See? I suffer when you're not working. How am I--a growing boy--supposed to reach my fullest potential without proper sustenance?"

You snorted and brought the plates out to the living area while Eddie trailed behind you.

"He's just grumpy because you're making him eat vegetables," Wayne chuckled as he took his plate. "A feat I have yet to achieve in 8 years. So if you weren't already in my good books, you are now."

Dinner passed relatively uneventfully at first. You and Eddie sat on the couch--which was just as comfy as you thought it would be--as Wayne occupied the armchair. They inhaled their first helping and showered you with compliments. Eddie begrudgingly admitted that your cooking was as good as you had bragged, and even said the dressing on your salad "wasn't Ranch but was still pretty tasty."

As Eddie had told you days ago, Wheel of Fortune started promptly at 7:30 and he and Wayne tried to solve as many puzzles as possible around mouthfuls of food. They teased each other when their guesses were particularly ridiculous, and celebrated when they got one right.

You solved a long puzzle correctly--your only contribution to their little competition--before there were very many tiles revealed on the board and Eddie patted your thigh in praise when you got it right with a soft "that's my girl" that nearly had you drop your plate.

When Wheel ended, Wayne stood up to grab seconds for himself and Eddie and a couple of beers for you all. Before he sat back down he grabbed a tape from a basket beside the television and popped it into the VCR.

"I hope you don't mind," he said sheepishly. "I like the background noise and Love Boat doesn't start til 9."

As the static on the screen cleared, you were treated to a good look of a Map to Illustrate the Ponderosa in Nevada.

"Mind? I love Bonanza," you laughed, and Eddie groaned beside you.

"No I already have to endure Wayne and Rick and their western reruns, and now you too?"

Conversation then turned to you. Turned to the usual stuff that you talked about when you met someone new. And you really...didn't like talking about yourself. The middle child and the only girl with two strong-willed brothers and parents that liked to pick and pick and pick at every imperfection; it was ingrained in you.

Thankfully, Eddie seemed to really like to talk to you, at you, about you.

"I work at Claire's. We do like...ear piercing and cute accessories for kids."

"She works there? She's the store manager. And the youngest one in the company. Right? Is that...no...in the district. Anyway..."

And where you faltered, he picked up the reins.

"I mean it's just community college. Everyone graduates. I'm not smart or anything."

"Are you shitting me right now? Sweetheart I can't even graduate high school."

Eagerly.

"And there was this one time, I shit you not Wayne," Eddie's hands mimed as he tried to tell his story. "She literally balanced on one foot on the top rung of a ladder. Had to have been...20 feet high...to get this kitten that was stuck on top of the bailer. How it got there? I couldn't tell you."

"It was not the top rung."

"It was."

"It wasn't 20 feet!"

"Let me tell the story."

"I'm supposed to be telling the story," you laughed at him.

"Ok, you're right, but you weren't telling it good enough," Eddie argued. "You have to emphasize."

"He means fib," Wayne clarified.

"I mean...bend the truth for entertainment purposes only," Eddie explained rapidly.

Eventually dinner was done and it was time for dessert, which Eddie eagerly followed you into the kitchen for.

"How am I doing?" you asked nervously as you rummaged in the fridge.

"You're doing great. How many times do I have to tell you he would like you?" he huffed good-naturedly.

"I don't know, I just needed reassurance."

"Are you kidding me?" he scoffed. "You're doing great. I'm sure he'll be asking me when the next time you'll be over is so he can maybe get some more lasagna. He doesn't just let anyone watch A Rose for Lotta with him. You're special."

"Am I?"

"You're special to me."

You looked up at Eddie a little shocked and he smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

You couldn't get your hopes up. You just...couldn't.

"What's taking so long in there?" Wayne asked as he ejected the tape from the VCR so he could flip to ABC. You both looked over and found him watching you with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye.

"I dunno," Eddie replied petulantly. "Someone's withholding my reward."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed another set of plates from the drying rack by the sink. You opened your container to reveal the fluffy green mounds of pudding and whipped cream and marshmallows studded with bright maraschino cherries.

"Sweetheart, you didn't," Eddie grabbed you by the shoulders and leaned over to look into the Tupperware.

"I did," you beamed.

The perfect end to a great night.

Because you might not have known that lasagna was Wayne's favorite.

But you knew that Watergate salad was Eddie's.

---

It was late by the time Eddie walked you out to your car, way past your usual bedtime, and later than you should have been up especially considering that you would be doing the overnight tomorrow.

The dessert had been consumed in its entirety; once you and Wayne had your fill, Eddie ate the remainder out of the bowl looking, quite literally, like a kid in a candy store. And as Captain Stubing and Doc Bricker bickered aboard the Pacific Princess, you began dozing on Eddie's shoulder.

He shook you awake and you said your goodbyes to Wayne.

"You're welcome anytime," he insisted as you headed to the door. "Lasagna or no. Don't let Ed trick you into spoiling us. He's still young but my waistband can't handle it."

And now you were standing with Eddie, the driver's side door between you as you sort of refused to get in and drive away. It was a real Midwest Goodbye.

"I'll see you at work..." you fumbled over your words as you tried to think of the next time you'd actually get to see him. You had the overnight tomorrow, and you'd be off Monday. Eddie would be off Tuesday which meant... "Oh god, well...Wednesday? That seems so far away."

"It doesn't have to be Wednesday," Eddie shrugged. "What if I brought you breakfast on Monday? After your floor set is over?"

"God that's gonna be so early for you," you dismissed his idea.

"So? You just made us the best dinner and there's leftovers for a few days, which you didn't want. Let me get you breakfast."

"I don't want to put you out."

The two of you bickered back and forth for a minute before you put your foot down and told him to sleep in because he had to close on Monday night.

"Thanks though," you said. "This was nice. Family dinner at home. It was really nice. Makes me a little homesick but...I guess Hawkins is my home for now."

"Hey, of course, any time," Eddie replied. He looked pensive for a second and then turned so he didn't have to look at you. Like he was hesitant about what you would say or think. "We don't...I mean I guess what I mean is...I really enjoy hanging out on Sundays and I know this is sort of a one-off thing. But...you know we don't only have to hang out on Sundays. We can do...I mean...have dinner again sometimes or meet you after work even if I'm off...or see a movie again...get something from Family Video or..."

"You wanna hang out with me more?" you cut into his rambling.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Friends hang out all the time but..." You shrugged. "Don't...skip out on...I mean I guess I don't know what it is you do with the guys outside of band practice and DnD. Don't skip out on them just for me."

"No, hey now, wait," Eddie held his hand out to stop you. "Those turds already see me all the time and are gonna see me more once school's back in session. And...I'll probably work less so...I'll take any time with you now that I can get."

"Alright." You beamed.

"Alright." He mirrored you. "More non-Sunday hangouts."

You agreed and he held out his pinky. You immediately hooked yours into it.

“See you Wednesday sweetheart,” Eddie said his farewell. “Don’t dream of me too much.”

---

"Alright guys, it's almost 7am, time to clean up," you announced to your overnight crew with a clap of your hands.

It had been a fun but trying night, but ultimately successful.

Saturday had been perfect but your whole Sunday routine had already been thrown off and you spent a majority of your day sleeping and cleaning and wondering what Eddie was getting up to at work.

As you predicted, everyone was more than a little confused by the planogram booklet but you were a patient teacher. Everyone thought they had an eye for store layout until they were faced with twenty shipment boxes of pencil cases and locker decor. You had to talk a few of them down from near-panics several times throughout the night.

Over the course of the floorset, side ponytails became even more askew than normal, a few pairs of shoes got kicked into a pile by the gate, and everyone turned into tired, sweaty messes.

To keep morale up, you had insisted on everyone bringing a favorite tape that alternated in the shop radio and you had stocked up at Bradley's with an assortment of sugary snacks and drinks for the break room. Thankfully, the treats had prevented anyone from bursting into tears or threatening to quit, as you had witnessed countless times during your time working in retail.

You really channeled Eddie's sweet tooth when making your choices and it had paid off.

But after 12 hours of unpacking, stacking, dusting, shifting, and sliding, you were all ready to go home.

You ushered everyone out of the store and locked the gate behind you, and as the group walked toward the employee exit, excitement had returned. Pride for a seemingly-impossible task completed.

"The store looks so good! Mindy is gonna shit herself when she comes in to open."

"Oh my god, do you think we're gonna have a store visit? Can you let me know what they think of the hair wall?"

"We're gonna make so many sales! Who can say no to that unicorn backpack?"

You entertained their conversation but when you set foot outside and saw a familiar van parked next to your car, you lost all ability to speak.

He had said he was gonna surprise you with breakfast...but you told him not to. Of course he didn't listen; it had you rolling your eyes in annoyed amusement.

God you knew everyone was a gossip, this was gonna get to Mindy and then she was gonna give you an earful. She already let you have it when she heard about your invitation to dinner.

You quickly thanked your team and ushered them to their cars before you meandered towards yours. You ignored the questioning looks that they shot you as you hesitated to get into your car but you waved goodbye as they drove away.

When the last car left the lot, you immediately stormed over to the passenger's side door of the van and threw it open to find a McDonald's bag on the seat, two coffees in the cupholders, and a tired-eyed Eddie in the driver's seat. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel in time with Kiss's Beth.

"I'm always somewhere else," he turned his upper body towards you dramatically and began serenading you. "And you're always there alone."

"Unbelievable," you scoffed at him.

"Just a few more hours and I'll be right home to you. I think I hear them calling. Oh Beth what can I do?" He slapped his hands against the steering wheel dramatically. "Beth what can I do?"

You climbed into the passengers seat, closed the door behind you, and opened the McDonalds bag to the delightful smell of hot, fresh, crispy hash browns and egg McMuffins.

"If it's not obvious," Eddie announced as he reached across the van to shove his hand into the bag for a hash brown of his own. "I'm Beth in this scenario because you left me alone for hours and hours and hours last night."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah I got into all sorts of trouble."

“I told you not to bring breakfast.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

"You didn't need to come if you were tired."

"I wanted to and I pretty much do whatever I want anyways," he insisted, and then thankfully focused on his food as you felt your face heat up.

"Well, if you'd like to know, me and the boys were not actually playing all night," you remarked and dug the sandwiches out of the brown bag. You handed one to Eddie, whose mouth was already full of salty, potatoey goodness after he'd shoved the hash brown in one piece. His cheeks were all round and full like a chipmunks and you held back a giggle.

God he was too cute. And he brought you breakfast after a long overnight shift. And he had called you his girl and told you you were special. How were you supposed to stop yourself from having a crush on him if this was...just how he was?

The two of you got to talking about your night, about his Sunday shift, about what you did before work, about what he did after it. And it was nice.

And as you sat there watching him slurp the hot coffee and watch the sparse traffic around the mall dive, you finally found the right words and the strength not to make an absolute fool of yourself.

"This was really nice of you, Eddie. You're wonderful."

He put his hand on his chest and looked a little sheepish.

"I'm wonderful?"

"You're wonderful to me."

---

Next Part: Corrective Action

The tag list is currently suspended.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #store manager verse #stranger things fic #Eddie munson fic #stranger things Eddie munson

275 notes · View notes

so-long-soldier-writes · 4 months ago

Text

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

kai parker x reader

summary: he needed to get to his sister. you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

tags: assault, stabbing, non-graphic violence, canon-typical violence, ambulance ride, not nice kai

word count: 1.2k

a/n: i've had this idea for a bit, but work with me on it, and let's pretend the girl in 6x10 that kai stabs in the first few seconds is nondescript!

a/n (2): aaa found this in the drafts, and since i've been MIA, have decided to post it now (even tho i'm not super proud of it, i just couldn't get it out of my head)

You tap your foot anxiously at the light, waiting for it to turn red, and for the walking signal to appear. Only one car had gone through the green, but the light hesitates before changing. Mystic Falls is pretty much deserted at this time of night. Everyone is either at home, sleeping, or out at the bars. You’re on your way to Scull Bar, and tonight, you have a date.

The light finally blinks to yellow, and it’ll be just a moment more before you can cross. Honestly, you could probably cross now, considering how empty the streets are. The only threat would be an unmarked police car, waiting for someone to break the rules.

You sigh, but then it turns again. Your sigh changes to one of relief, and you smile before stepping out onto the road.

The only sounds around you are those of crickets chirping and a distant dog barking. It feels peaceful. Not lonely, but just quiet. A wave of nostalgia seems to carry in the air.

That’s why you miss the signs. That gut instinct that tells you someone’s wrong.

You don’t realize the crickets have silenced until his hands are already around your neck.

Realization hits you quickly. Fear shoots down your spine and makes you gasp, but your airway is partially constricted.

“Stop!” You try anyway.

Your attacker ignores your plea. “Sh, sh, sh!” He’s right up in your ear, lips grazing your skin. “Don’t scream.”

He lowers one arm to your waist, but loosens the grip on your neck. Despite the darkness, you can clearly see the reflective glare of a sharp knife. Your throat goes dry. “What are you going to do with that?”

“This? Oh, I just need to find my sister. I believe you can help me with that.”

“I have a phone. What’s her number? I can call her.”

“Yeah… that’s not exactly what I meant. See, my sister and I have a rather… complicated relationship. She doesn’t really want to see me, but I need to see her, because of something important regarding our family. But since she’s so evasive, I think catching her off guard at work is my best bet to getting to her.”

His wording scares you, but you’re desperate. “Where does she work? I can pull up directions. I can-”

“See, you’re still not understanding me. I don’t need you to call anyone. I simply need you to play your part, so I can do mine.”

“What do you need me to- arrrghhh!” You shout, cut off by a sharp pain directly to the stomach. You gasp out, feeling your legs buckle and your vision get spotty. With a small glance down, you see your attacker’s knife lodged in your midsection. Blood coats the blade, and now upon seeing it, you can feel it dripping from your new injury.

“Sh!” He hushes you again, clamping a hand over your mouth. “Be quiet.”

As soon as he pulls the knife out, you try to defend yourself. A short glance at him reveals him to be rather scrawny, however a dark look in his eyes tells you his stature should not be underestimated; he is much more dangerous than he seems. Still, you fight. You dig your elbow into his chest, making him grunt. You step back onto his feet and both of you trip backwards. After a moment of scrambling, you release yourself from his grasp. The wound catches you off balance, though, and you stumble, giving him just enough time to grab you again.

“No!”

“Shut up!”

He stabs you again, then removes the blade just to make a third wound right below it. You choke and collapse into his arms, unable to hold yourself up. Tears begin to fall from your eyes. Your vision is fading fast.

Despite your body weakening quickly, you still manage to pick up the sound of sirens in the distance. To your disbelief, your attacker keeps you in his arms until they arrive, tucking his knife somewhere out of sight.

“Ma’am, can you tell us what happened? Were you in a car accident? Was this a robbery?” EMT rushes to your side, asking a slew of questions. Upon noticing your fading consciousness, they turn their questions to the man holding you. “Sir, did you witness the incident? Do you know them? Do you know what happened here?”

Your attacker lies with ease. Not surprising, though you don’t have the energy to counter him. “I just found her here, I don’t know. She has multiple injuries, but it’s dark. I didn’t get a good look at them.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s get her on a stretcher. Is there a wallet on her? Any form of ID?”

Another EMT searches your pockets and pulls out your wallet. As they put you on the stretcher, you try to signal that you’re still in danger, but he doesn’t get the message.

“Can I come along? I want to make sure she gets there safely.”

Your eyes widen at your attacker’s request, then feel faint at his allowance to accompany you.

“She’s crashing!” Another reports, picking up on your unsteadiness. An oxygen mask is placed over your nose and mouth, while a small dose of painkiller is administered through an IV.

“Stay with me, okay? We’re gonna get you to the hospital.”

Your attacker sits in the corner and watches the scene. It’s as if he blends into the shadows, and the respondents don’t even remember he’s there. You do, though. His black eyes seem to stare into your soul. You can still feel the knife buried beneath your skin.

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

Your attacker gets lost in the sea of paramedics as you’re wheeled into the hospital. Losing sight of him makes you panic; he could be anywhere, and you’d have no idea. Everyone’s in danger now - you, his sister, and possibly any of these employees. Anyone who gets in the way of what he wants. The thought alone is horrifying.

Within minutes, you’re brought into a room where the doctor finally sees you. She’s calm and collected, yet obviously worried about your condition. Three wounds to the stomach can be fatal, and they have no idea what they’re dealing with; no clue what happened, and with the oxygen mask still on your face, you’re completely unable to tell them.

“What happened to you?” She asks, shining a light in your eyes. An apology shows in her eyes, but she’s just doing her job.

Terrified, you’re about to rip off the mask and tell her the truth. You reach a hand up to take it off, but then a guttural scream leaves your lips at the sudden sight of your attacker. He’s directly behind her, covered in your blood.

Instead of taking off your mask, you point behind her. He’s much faster, though, and stalks up quickly. With a quick glance to you, he slings an arm around her neck and produces a needle from behind his back.

“I stabbed her,” he says calmly, injecting a sedative into her neck.

You scream as your doctor goes limp in his arms. He smirks at you, then whisks her out of the room before you can react. Frantically, you rip off the mask and scream as loudly as you can, desperate for the attention of the nurses. It isn’t until at least a minute later that they respond, eyes wide at the sight of you. One immediately starts to put your oxygen back on, but is then interrupted by another.

“Laughlin was here, where’d she go?”

“What?”

“She was just here, checking her pupils.”

They both look at you. You’re fading in and out of consciousness.

“Taken,” you whisper. A heartbeat later, everything goes silent.

#malachai parker x reader #kai parker x reader #tvd fanfiction #kai parker oneshot #tw: minor violence

40 notes · View notes

spinningwebsandtales · 1 year ago

Text

Imagine Mirage Introducing You To The Other Autobots

Mirage X Human FemReader

Rating: None

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k

Requested by Anonymous

Part 1 here

(A/N:) This was a request I had gotten a little bit ago and the requester has asked to remain anonymous. Which I can 100% respect and it shall stay that way. I wanted to get this done while I am on hiatus and after this is posted I will still remain on hiatus as I have so many things to do in time for next month plus several ideas that I need to get done. I have over 50 things in my drafts and a certain story I need to finish as well. My requests will still remain closed and my posting will still be few and far between. My family and I are still taking the loss of our cat we had over 16 years rough so please bear with me. I’m working as fast and much as I can. But anyway I really enjoyed this request and I hope the requester finds it everything they hoped for. Thank you for requesting and considering me worthy enough to do it. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope to see more Mirage requests in the future when I open them back up! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Mirage had been gone for a little while and you never realized how big of a part he had become in your life until he no longer came around. For a couple weeks you would go back to the usual meeting spot only for him to not show up. You would stay for a couple hours hoping that he would show up while keeping yourself busy by sketching the scenery, but you couldn’t wait forever. At first you worried something horrible happened to him, until you started to think that maybe you had made him mad and he no longer wanted to see you. The thought made you a little depressed as you couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing the goofy Autobot ever again. You stopped going for about a month now, as the disappointment at not seeing him was too much to stand anymore. But your heart longed to go once again, just to see if he had started to coming back again. You never realized how much those little moments (and even the stupid heart pounding joy rides) meant to you.

Despite telling yourself that it was stupid, that possibly you were just delusional. That it was all just a dream and that it was a possibility that you were beginning to go crazy. But despite telling yourself these things mentally, you found yourself at the same spot gazing out at the scenery with your sketchbook on your lap. Despite the surrounding noises echoing through the air, you focused on the scratching of your pencil against the paper. Losing yourself in a fantasy that you could hear the rumble of Mirage’s familiar engine mixing in with the noisy bustle of strangers’ lives. Until you swore you heard it again, but this time closer. The movement of your pencil stopped and hit the paper as a mismatched Porsche of different colored and rusty parts skidded around the curve. A welcome honk piercing the air before the Porsche began to transform kicking up dust before revealing the mech you missed so dearly.

“Mirage,” you shouted tossing everything to the ground before racing towards him. He beamed brightly giving you a guilty wave until you clung to him tightly. Despite promising you wouldn’t cry if this day ever came, your emotions betrayed you as tears stung your eyes.

“Miss me,” he teased poking at your wet cheek.

“Shut up,” you growled not really in the mood for his teasing. Maybe you were dreaming or maybe this was just wishful thinking? You didn’t care at the moment nor did you want to think about it too hard. Mirage patiently waited for you to finish your moment of emotional release. You sniffed loudly, wiping at your eyes before stepping away. He still had that smug grin on his face which made you stick out your tongue in defiance.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he snorted. “I missed you too.”

“Stupid mech,” you muttered. “Where were you? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

He rubbed the back of his head, the human like gesture not lost on you, as he seemed to move anxiously with guilt on his face.

“It’s a long story,” he replied. “One that I promise to tell you in full later, but there’s something I have to do first.”

“Are you leaving again,” you mumbled as you felt the sorrow of him leaving beginning to drown you.

“Technically yes,” Mirage replied. “But you’re coming with me this time.”

“Really?!”

“Yep,” Mirage grinned. “Got some friends I’d like you to meet. Starting with my best bud! C’mon out Noah!”

You glanced at Mirage in confusion before movement caught your eye. A young man rounded the corner sheepishly waving before he glared up at the mech. He awkwardly walked towards you before offering his hand for you to shake.

“If it wasn’t for Noah here I wouldn’t be standing at all honestly. Despite the terrible paint job.”

“Shut up man,” Noah retorted.

That gave you some explanation on Mirage’s new less sleek look. After a little further explanation from Mirage, you and Noah were sitting inside Mirage’s cab cruising down the highway to a place that Mirage was being a little too secretive about. You scratched at the nylon of the seat belt while you watched the scenery go by.

“Mirage is a bit much ain’t he,” Noah spoke up causing you to jump at the sudden break in the quiet.

“Just a little bit,” you answered, causing the mech to scoff.

“I am a joy and you two know it,” he retorted.

“Hush,” you slapped his dash, “ the grown-ups are talking. Autobots need to keep quiet and watch the road.”

Said Autobot grumbled his displeasure but blessedly remained silent while you and Noah talked. Conversing eased you back into a sense of calm as you couldn’t help but be nervous while Mirage was being vague. When Mirage finally screeched to a halt in front of an abandoned warehouse you really began to get nervous. Why could he possibly want to bring you to such a place? You hadn’t seen him in forever and he brings a new friend and takes you to a place that could easily be seen as a crime scene. You began to wonder if this mech you were with was even Mirage. Which seemed silly how many talking, living, transforming robots were even on Earth let alone this city? That question was answered quickly as vehicles of all makes and colors began to drive out of the warehouse.

“Meet my fellow Autobots,” Mirage gestured. You stood there stiffly watching the vehicles transform just like Mirage. The biggest one that happened to be a semi scared you the most as you felt a tense aura surrounding him.

“This is Optimus Prime, the leader,” Mirage gestured to the bigger mech. “Here is Bumblebee, Arcee, and Wheeljack.”

“Hi,” you spoke timidly the whole group of transformers causing you to panic just a little bit.

“Okay,” Mirage sat down roughly before patting the concrete beside him. “I owe you a huge explanation.”

You plopped down right beside him, “Yes you do.”

Your mind whirled at all the information pouring forth. So far the only thing you could keep straight was something named Unicron had tried to destroy Earth and the Autobots stopped him with another team that transformed into animals and basically Mirage gave up his life. It was only because of Noah that he was here today. The other Autobots put in a few other details they thought Mirage had missed and by the end you were ready to take a nap. It was a lot but the one thing you weren’t confused was the sense of gratitude for Mirage and his fellow Autobots. If it hadn’t been for them, you wouldn’t even had a life to miss Mirage and you were glad that you finally got to meet the rest of them.

“It’s a lot to process,” Arcee spoke.

“It is,” you agreed before standing up. “But one thing that is easy to understand is thank you. Thank you all so much. I had no idea and none of you had to, but you saved our world anyway.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Optimus spoke, “while we live on your planet.”

“Hey,” you laughed, “stay as long as you want to. Sounds like we could use some protectors like you.”

Optimus nodded and Mirage’s optics began to gleam brighter in glee. He scooped you up pressing you against his metal cheek. You chuckled pressing against him in your version of a hug. Despite everything you were so glad that you met Mirage and you were glad he brought you here. You found yourself realizing that you wanted to remain here and get to know the others better. It wouldn’t take long for you to consider the other Autobots a friend as well as Mirage set you down in the middle of all of them. This was your life now and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret one moment of it.

#Mirage X Reader #Mirage / Reader #Transformers Rise Of The Beasts #Transformers Imagine #Mirage Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing #Request

173 notes · View notes

openphrase123 · 1 month ago

Note

What's your workflow for planning and then executing a long-term project, like the massive fics you write?

this is how i do fanfics And also original stuff and it's how i've been writing for like ten years (your mileage may vary though i think long project planning is a different kind of beast depending on the person.

also this is the same process as i have for making other media too but obviously with the language tweaked to fit the media (like this is how i plan and execute my game, too!)

have a scene or concept haunt me so thoroughly that i write a short speculative piece about it. if you get here and it's good but can't get past the next step, that's a sign it's meant to be a cool oneshot instead of something multichaptered

decide why i'm making it. what question am i trying to answer, what themes am i trying to explore?

write 2-3 chapters of it freeform style, not caring about where these scenes are going or how they flow into each other (for things that aren't fics, this can just be like. a small section of what it Is). if you're not feeling it here this is a sign to make the scope smaller and make the piece as short as you can tolerate it for. if you are feeling it, this is where you're figuring out the overall tone and style of how the wider work is going to go

figure out the ending. write the ending scene now if you have to. you can change it later but you need to know generally where you want to go

make an outline. how many sections do i need to get from the opening scene to the ending scene? what happens in each chapter?

for ME and how i post, if this is a fanfiction, write at least 25% of it before posting a single thing. or if nothing else write 3 weeks of updates.

start posting

vibe and write at least 3 weeks in advance. if you need a break you need a break. it's free fanfiction, people get it.

now, some creators will be like "whatever you write, take out 10% of it to be economical" this is the modern writer's equivalent of the devil talking. you need the fluff. you need the downtime. you need the epilogue. slow your fucking stories down. let people marinate in them. yeah if you're writing something short form or in a specific format you might need to take stuff out but if you're writing fanfiction or a novel or a game and there's no limit on how long it is. don't worry about spending a couple pages dicking around. every piece of human media from the dawn of time has had interludes, B plots, long meandering pieces of fluff... it makes the parts where the story Hits really stand out. inutile's tragic moments wouldn't be as effective if there weren't fun jokes or levity interspersed in between

that said you need to know when to stop adding shit. only put things in that you think you have a reasonable time to address fully and completely. you will learn this the hard way one day and i cannot teach this or stop you from making this mistake. i learned this mistake writing homestuck fanfiction when i was 13. but in my defense it's really easy to go overboard with homestuck fanfiction

panic because i'm like 90% of the way through and tired of it and start doubting whether the story was ever good at all and if this was wasted time

finish it. celebrate. wait like two months

reread my own work and say "this is sick as hell"

(if this is original work, this is where you start editing it. this is a different beast. i will not elaborate here. fanfiction is for fun and is at the same level as my original fiction drafts. on a rewrite everything will be more polished and purposeful)

repeat forever and ever as long as there are stories to tell

also. this one is just me because it's how my brain works. but ideally i work on two/three longform projects at once, so that when i get tired of working on one my brain will go "ooh shiny" and latch onto one of the other ones effortlessly. if you have adhd this will either work for you perfectly or it will ruin your life

#i hope this was helpful??#again i think everyone's process is a little different and Should be different because everyone's brain latches on to different things #but hopefully this helps you go “oh yes that's one way of doing it” and decide whether or not it would benefit you #don't use this as a to-do list if you're looking for inspiration but like. a suggestion. and if it doesn't work throw it out #and try something that fits you more #the numbers on these glitched out sorry

21 notes · View notes

imagine-a-life-like-this · 2 months ago

Text

Almost (K.NJ)

Word Count : 1.3k

Warnings : swearing, mentions of sex, drinking, sad angst (read at your own risk)

A/N : Since I couldn't post for my story, I thought why not post this Namjoon one shot I've had in my drafts for months. I apologize if the spacing and stuff is weird, I wrote this on my phone instead of my laptop 😅 Part 2 possible if people want !

Synopsis : They almost had it, and then they didn't. Forever having to live with almost.

"Have you ever been in love?" The survey question stared her in the face. She was tempted to hit the x button and not complete it, but she promised her best friend she'd complete the survey for him. She stared at the screen. Has she ever been in love? Short answer would be no. But the long answer? Complicated.

She had met her now best friend years ago, around the time teenagers start wondering about love. But it was the last thing on her mind. Yet Namjoon quite literally stumbled into her life and made her question things. He introduced himself with red ears, scratching the back of his neck, and kicking at the rocks by their feet. She reached for his outstretched hand, introducing herself as well. He beamed when he looked at her, and in that moment she realized love was found in his smile.

Every time they hung out afterwards, she was determined to see him smile at least once. As if it was her only reason for existing in his life. She would tell jokes like it was her job. She would embarrass herself if it meant he would smile. It didn't matter to her that other people could see her, because she was only focused on Namjoon.

As they grew older together, they got closer. He was the one that wiped her tears and kissed her forehead when she was down. She hyped him up before every speech he needed to make, staring up at him as if he hung the stars in the sky, yet he was so much prettier. Other guys noticed her, but she never spared them another glance, but she had Namjoon smiling at her, wiping her tears, his touch so gentle, as if it wasn't real. His lips pressed to her forehead felt right. Because love was found in his touch.

His always gentle touch. With his soft hands that seemed to know exactly where to hold her the night he kissed her for the first time. One wrapped around her waist to bring her closer to him, one cupping her cheek to bring her face to his. It was unexpectedly expected. Her stomach exploded with butterflies and she realized this is what she's been missing all along. Him. Close to her just like this.

"I would apologize but I'm not all that sorry." He chuckled as he pulled away, tucking some hair behind her ear. She was dazed, staring up at him trying to figure out the millions of thoughts running through her brain.

"Kiss me again." She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing him as close as she could. He didn't hesitate in following suit, immediately pulling her in as close as he could, as if she couldn't be close enough. She felt the exact same. Wishing she could meld their bodies into one, one unable to be without the other. In this moment, he was her oxygen and she wasn't ready to die. Love was found in his kiss.

They couldn't go long without seeing each other, suddenly completely addicted to one another. As if the kiss just opened some hidden curse about their relationship. He would pick her up from class, catch her when she would run and jump at him. Everyone agreed that the two of them together just made sense. Since the first day they met, everyone knew they were made for each other. Both of them the happiest they've ever been.

Yet neither of them put a label on it. She never called him her boyfriend, and he never called her his girlfriend. They never confessed their love for each other, despite the love so clearly being there, even a blind man could see it. They lived harmoniously together, not bothering to answer the question plaguing everyone's minds. "What is your relationship?" Perfect. Loving. Caring.

Part of her wondered why they never did. Why they just continued to call each other their best friend when everyone could clearly see there was more. Then she met her. A new girl in Namjoon's life. Prettier. Smarter. Nicer. Better. And she sees the way he looks at her. It's the way she looks at him. And he asks what she thinks, and she can only smile. Tell him how wonderful she is, because anything else would just be a lie, and you can't lie to your best friend. He smiles as he walks away, towards the new girl in his life. The reason she only ever got part of his heart. Love is found in a broken heart.

She watches as this new girl tags along in everything, and their duo soon becomes a trio. She tries to pull away, not wanting to watch as they fall in love and leave her behind. Her heart can't break if she walks away first, is a lie she told herself every time she ignored his calls. Yet he always found a way to bring her back. With sweet words and puppy dog eyes to go with his imperfectly perfect smile she loved so much.

Partying is her only escape. The nights she used to spend with Namjoon she now spends out at a club, drinking until she's stumbling over herself, going home with a different somebody, hoping when she wakes up her heart will be full again. Praying that one these Namjoon look alikes will fill the Namjoon shaped hole, but none of them are Namjoon enough. Because none of them are Namjoon.

She has to stop herself from saying his name when she looks at the rebounds, reminding herself that Namjoon is wrapped up in someone else's arms, playing with someone else's hair, giving someone else the love she so helplessly gave him. Now she's begging for it back, clawing at anyone that remotely looks like him in hopes maybe this time love could be found in someone else.

The question is still staring at her while she thinks about if she's ever been in love. She knows that if this other girl never came into the picture, she probably would be in love with Namjoon by now. She was well on her way over the years they shared together. But was the time they had together enough for her to consider herself in love?

She types an answer. Deletes and retypes. Yes. No. Yes. No. Back and forth, unable to make her decision. She stares at the screen. Why would Namjoon ask her to do this survey? Why would she promise she would without knowing what it was about? What class was this for? She rereads the question as if she could change it with her mind.

Her phone sounds off with a text before she could think up another answer. Did you do the survey yet? Namjoon asked with a smiley emoji at the end. She noticed he texted her privately instead of in the groupchat they use with the other girl. Did he not ask her as well? Don't think too hard. Just write the first thing that comes to mind! The first thing that comes to mind.

"Have you ever been in love?"

The short answer is no, I have not been in love. But I found love in everything a person does. I found it in his smile and his touch. I found love in the way he kissed me like he needed me to breathe. Even when he broke my heart, I found love within the him shaped hole in my heart. I was falling in love with him, but he stepped back before I could land, and so I flew into the arms of someone else. Multiple someone else's. Trying to find the same love I found before in them. But there's only one him.

So no, I haven't been in love. But I almost was.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #bts au #bts #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon au #kim namjoon

23 notes · View notes