#and there’s also no doubt in my brain that his childhood had something to do with it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oharabunny · 7 months

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Say That You Love Me

Warning: soft yandere and caretaker!Miguel; some controlling behavior; shy, fem!afab!, lonely and socially awkward, inexperienced reader; relationship is not established yet; dark content if you squint; also implied chubby reader; fluff (ish); smut; not beta read

⋆✮↪ based on my nonlinear yandere Miguel series ₊˚⊹♡

You always gave people the benefit of the doubt, or rather, no matter how wrong people treated you, you gave them a pass, as long as they were dubious and vague enough with you so that you never questioned their sincerity. You were lonely to say the least and grew up alone, so you accepted whatever came your way, and worked hard to keep your ‘friends’ around since you were socially awkward.

Of course, over time you learned to filter out the good and the bad, but the elephant in the room never went away.

Living with Miguel had its perks. You could do whatever you want, as long as you never try to escape. You once had a reason to leave, but you had no place and no family to go back to. Your universe was also gone for good (or so Miguel says).

For the most part, you generally listen to him and do as he says. It’s for your own good he’d always say.

You were beginning to wonder if he had romantic feelings for you. Aside from his weird obsession of taking care of you, he didn’t make any moves on you, up until recently. Perhaps you always had an innate attraction towards him, like, he was built like a Greek god, for multiverse’s sake. His face card was serving. He could get any girl he wanted, so you had always assumed he had no sexual attraction towards you. Just that, he had this self-proclaimed obligation to be your caretaker.

One day he suggested to sleep together since sleeping on the couch was becoming too uncomfortable for him. It was a one bedroom apartment, so it wasn’t like there was a spare bedroom for him to sleep separately in. (Something you appreciated despite trying to argue with him to take his room back, but he vehemently refused for your sake.)

You didn’t think much of it, at first, since you had experience with sleeping with the opposite gender nonsexually. You were right to think nothing much of it for the first few minutes since he was turned away from you. That is…until he fell asleep. (You tend to take a lot longer to fall asleep than him, so you were able to observe his unconscious form.)

And his first instinct was to cage you in his thick, beefy arms.

Miguel drew you into his chest as if he was snuggling a childhood ragdoll. He rubbed your smaller fingers in between his own, inhaled the scent of your shampoo in your hair, all the while his long and much larger legs than yours locked you into his body. He was completely smothering you.

Your own body was heating up like a kettle on a stove. He was only in his boxers, and you can feel his cock outline through his boxers on your butt. Was he getting hard too?

You didn’t dare move because you wanted to stay like this for as long as he could. If he didn’t have any attraction towards you, this was as close as you were going to get.

Now every night going forth, he cuddled you in his sleep. He got bolder eventually and simply cuddled with you as soon as he got to bed.

You were surprised one night when he asked to kiss you. Up until this point, he had only cuddled with you, but never dared to be even more intimate. He’d usually at most rub and squeeze your tummy while he was asleep which made you self conscious. You never bat his hand away though.

So when he asked you for a kiss, your brain was like a train that braked too quickly and flew off the rails. You hadn’t realized you didn’t react nor answer him until he said, “Nevermind.”

You immediately reached for him to say, “N-No wait! I do, I…do want you to kiss me.” As you finished your sentence, your eye contact left him, in embarrassment. You basically admitted that you were attracted to him by reciprocating, and you didn’t know how to deal with that. Would he laugh at you? Would he play those kinds of games with you?

He could see you overthinking and feeling conflicted. He took your chin and tilted your gaze back up to him. “Then, look at me.”

And you do.

Everything came to a stop when his lips met yours. All your thoughts and worries melted away. His lips were just so perfect. You couldn’t remember the last time you were kissed, especially in this way. He pressed your body into his as he cupped your neck so you couldn’t escape out of his hold. He gently prodded your lips to enter with his tongue, and you had instinctively let him in. His tongue battled with yours and you willfully lost against him. He explored your mouth as if he was burning every inch and corner of your mouth into his mind. A level of desperation that you could feel from his touch growing more and more intensely.

He rolled over on top of you and broke the kiss. You would’ve whined but he quickly satiated by peppering kisses all over your face before finally landing a final one on your nose. From there, he just admired your face while he stroked your hair. You couldn’t maintain eye contact from his face being so up close to yours, and tried to hide your face as your self consciousness crept back in. You hated how your face looked when you laid down.

“Hey hey hey, don’t look away.” Miguel lightly tapped your face. You could barely look back at him as he shifted his weight because you could feel his hard cock on rubbing on your thighs. His handsome face in such close proximity to yours made your mind do flips. “And don’t forget to breathe.”

How could you breathe when the hottest person you’ve ever seen in your life is all over you?

You were taking shallow breaths which isn’t what Miguel wanted so he squeezed your tummy and tickled your sides. “Waitwaitwaitstop!!” You couldn’t help but laugh and push him off.

Your laugh was like a song to his ear. Miguel kept tickling you as he buried his face into your neck and nipped on your skin. He kissed and drew up your jawline as he stopped his tickling so he could capture your lips once more.

“Breathe.” He said in between kisses. He squeezes your sides when you still didn’t listen.

Your breath staggered from the laughter and steaminess of the kisses. He smirked at your inexperience and sensitivity. You were just so cute to him when you were overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Miguel licked your lips and planted a final kiss before tightly holding you like a ragdoll again. He laid on his back this time and you were on top of him. The weight of his arms kept you in your place, especially when his hand was placed on top of your head while you lay on his chest. You could hear the sound of his heartbeat.

Now, every night whenever he came home, he kissed you fervently as he cuddled with you to sleep.

“YOU WANT ME TO WHAT-?!”

You had been extremely lonely the past couple weeks since Miguel had gone to another dimension to catch a difficult anomaly. As established, you were not allowed to go outside. You did think to ask him if you could invite some of your Spider friends you befriended during the short period you stayed at HQ, but he refused, and seemed angry at the notion of you hanging out with them.

Instead you begged and begged him to at least let you access Discord or some kind of social media to talk to someone, other than Lyla (no offense to her), especially for your special interests.

At first Miguel was hesitant, but eventually went on board with it when considering your mental wellbeing. You had never done anything to betray his trust.

“I don’t want you spending any more time talking to them anymore. I shouldn’t have to compete for your attention.” Miguel stated flatly as he possessively held you in his arms in bed. He took your phone from your hand and placed it on the nightstand away from you.

“But that shouldn’t be the only reason why you want to impregnate me…” You backed up against him to get away from his hand that was stroking your tummy. A habit he kept up since sleeping in the same bed with you for the first time. If anything, your tummy was treated like a stress ball. (Sometimes he’ll also grab at your love handles, your ass, your thighs, and anywhere that’s fleshy.)

“It’s not.” Miguel’s hand lowered his hand and flicked the elastic of your shorts.

Your heart skipped a beat at his implication. You two hadn’t actually had sex yet despite all the sexual tension. Perhaps he wanted to wait till you were ready, or maybe he saw it as a means to procreate.

He slid his hand under your shorts and panties to your freshly shaven pussy (he shaved it for you 😥) and rubbed circles on your clit. You immediately locked your legs together and grabbed onto his arm to hold on. Your puffy pussy hid your clit, but his middle finger pushed through and found her. Your breath hitched. He didn’t stop when you gripped harder, if anything he rubbed faster and faster. You kept wriggling and squirming back, but his chest was a wall and you had nowhere to escape. Your ass pressed up against his clothed cock that sat neatly between your cheeks.

You screamed. He was directly on your clit applying hard pressure. Not even you would touch it bare. You squirted all over his hand quickly and he slowed his pace, but didn’t stop, to help you ride out your orgasm. You huffed and puffed. His hand rubbed a stripe over your entire pussy to draw out the slick so that he could lick and drink it off of his fingers. You looked back at him as he was savoring your taste, and you couldn’t help quivering at the sight of that.

Wordlessly, he shifted himself so he was on top of you and you reached out to halt him in place. “Wait, can we please talk about this?”

He raised a brow as if you just confused him. “What is there to talk about?”

You sat up with your knees to your chest, nervous for what you were about to ask, “Why do you actually want a baby? Why me? And it’s going to be a huge responsibility, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it. I…I also want to figure out my own life too.”

He moved closed and placed his warm hands on your knees. “It has to be you. We are meant to be together. You have such a kind and gentle soul; you’d make a great mother.” He paused, “And you don’t have to worry about a thing, your husband will take care of you for the rest of your life.”

“Wha-?” You were cut off when he crashed his lips to silence you. He pulled you down from where you sat and swiftly pulled your shorts and panties down in one fell swoop. He gives your clit a good rub before he leaned back to take his boxers off.

You stared at his rock hard cock, finally in full view. His size was never something you ever had before. Hell, you couldn’t even fit a regular sized dildo up inside. “I can’t fit that…”

“We can make it work. Don’t worry, just leave it all to me.” Miguel cooed and stroked his length against your slick brushing your clit along with the way. Your hole tightened from the sensation. “Remember to relax and breathe, bebita.”

Slowly, he pushed inside your fluttering hole. You hissed at the stretch. The pain was quickly replaced with pleasure when his thumb rubbed over your clit. When he saw your face relaxing, he pushed deeper until he bottomed out. You placed your hand over your pelvic region and felt his bulge.

“Mmm, you like that?” He groaned as he began to pull out slowly. You instantly moaned and nodded to that. Something about him pulling out his big hard cock dragging your walls out was tipping you over the edge.

“Keep doing that!” Everything from his pelvis meeting yours, filling you up, and his balls slapping your ass sent sparks into your abdomen and tighten your abs. His languid motion of his hips drew you insane. You didn’t know your eyes were closed until you opened them up and saw his eyes glowing red and predatory. His fangs hung out, his hair a mess, and he too was losing control.

Miguel gripped hard at the bed sheets and ripped them under his nails. He couldn’t take it anymore. He sat back up to his knees, lifted up your hips up to his, and rabbitted hard and fast into you. “God- Your pussy is perfect-!” He groaned and grunted in every push. His head flew back and bucked faster.

“Mig-Miguel- fuck-!” Right there, right there, right there. All of your buttons were hit and signals fired off in every direction. He didn’t dare stop and change course now. Your hands were searching for something to grab on for dear life. He clasped your left hand and held it over your head.

“Say that you love me. Say that you will marry me.” He began to slow by only a little bit. Your eyes flew back to him in desperation for him to speed up again. You didn’t even hear him say anything to you. “D-Don’t slow down!”

He repeated, “Say that you love me. Say that you will marry me.”

“Yes!” You practically shrieked.

“Yes, what?” He slowed down even more.

“I love you! I will marry you! Please-!” You begged and grinded your hips against his in tandem.

Satisfied with your answer, Miguel jolted himself hard into you, and went back into rabbiting. You crumbled. Your legs trembled and your body shuddered in tremors. Every muscle in your body contracted; your pussy tightened around his cock as a result.

He fucked you through your orgasm similarly to when he did so with his fingers earlier. Except, he was chasing his own high now. As your pussy tightened, his breath hitched and crumbled his resolve. He came immediately, and ensured to do so completely sheathed inside. He came at the entrance of your cervix and did not pull out until all of his cum was spilled. He gave you a couple pushes inside to ensure all of his cum was deep inside and not spill out.

Miguel leaned over to the nightstand and opened the drawer to pull out something. Some kind of clothed sticker of sorts. He took off the sticker from the paper and sealed up your pussy with it. You were too fucked out to care what and why he was doing that. You were too focused on his warm cum sloshing inside.

Your eyes fluttered closed and began to drift off to sleep as he cradled you into his arms once more, as he habitually always had. He took your left hand and slid a sparkly ring (a ring you’ve been secretly, not so secretly, been eyeing for the past few months) on your ring finger. He planted a kiss there to seal your fate.

You were finally his, and you were finally never alone.

Tags: @belle-oftheball34, @mrs-oharaxx, @crystalcrynight, @sukunash0e, @juicyprncess Additional tags: @kaoriloveskeiff, @twinklingbeautifulstars, @tayleighuh, @freehentai, @mythologicalgodsblog [I'm aware this is not the part 2 for The Grass is Greener on the Other Side fic, but I thought you might be interested as this is part of a series.]

Graphic credited to @cafekitsune

buy me a ☕?

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

609 notes · View notes

chaoticharrington · 6 days

Text

Chapter One: Professor Harrington and Mr. Munson

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not much...YET.. lots of smutty smutt smutt to come. Vague mention of depression/ bad childhood/anxiety , mention of drug use/ cigarette smoking, Eddie and Steve being hot, Reader is in their mid 20s and Eddie and Steve are early to mid 40s

**THERE WILL BE LOTS SMUT 18+ CONTENT EVENTUALLY SO MINORS THIS IS NOT A SPACE FOR YOU, MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED,IF YOU DONT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO I WILL LIKELY ASSUME YOU'RE A MINOR AND PROBABLY BLOCK. DM FOR ANY QUESTIONS**

Summary: Reader moves to the one and only Hawkins, Indiana and meets her sexy new sociology professor and realizes she might have a crush on her best friends dad..oops

Authors Note: Hi folks!!! this is so nerve wracking i've never really properly written for either of these characters before except in my head and reading lots and lots of smut! I really hope you guys like it, i'm really excited for what's to come for this series, I haven't thought of a name for it yet so i'm just going to go chapter by chapter but its gonna be a fucking wild ride so buckle your seat belts :) 4k words (Also older Eddie pic by the lovely @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

**Chapter Two Chapter Three**

Were you doing the right thing? Could you do this on your own? What if you failed?

Your head filled with doubt now that your dreams you’ve had since you graduated high school were now coming to fruition. You saved up all the money you could, working odd jobs for a few years after high school to have enough money to get out of your hometown and into a good college states away.

You shake away all the negative thoughts, no. This had to work you were going to make sure it worked. This is your new start, to create your own life. It had to be better than back home, where no one gave a shit about you and your own parents didn’t care enough to stick around after you graduated high school, not that they were the most involved parents to begin with anyways. Even the friends you had back home were just party related or friends of friends, you were always on the outside looking in, never properly fitting anywhere. The only reason you decided to move specifically to Hawkins was because your only real friend, Violet, that you’ve had since you were 12 had moved here 10 years ago and you’d made a pact long ago that if you ever got out of that town, you’d follow her here.

You pinch your fingers to the bridge of your nose, willing the thought of your parents and back home to go back into the little dark corner of your brain. You can’t breakdown now, not right before your first class, how pathetic would that be?

“Focus focus focus, come on you got this.” you muttered quietly to yourself over and over until the anxiety subsided. You take a deep breath, willing your lungs to fill with air to cool down your buzzing insides. You look in your car mirror to make sure your makeup still looked good and fidgeted with your clothes.

You were never one to obsess over your appearance by any means, but you really wanted to make a good first impression. You had your hair pulled up into a butterfly clip and had on your favorite dress a pair of black tights and your trusty Dr. Martens. With one final look in the mirror, you sigh and grab your bookbag and get out of your car. You look on your phone to triple check that you were in the right place, the last thing you needed was to be lost or even worse late to your first class.

You’d only moved into your apartment off campus the day before so you haven’t had time to look around the town or get used to your surroundings yet. You noted that your car didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Your car was a few years old and was always something of an insecurity for you. But most of the cars that filled the almost completely full parking lot were older or used cars, which put you at ease. You head into the Humanities and Social Sciences building and check for a fourth time, Sociology 101 room E142 Professor Harrington.

The room is much bigger than you thought, chairs and desks circling the podium at the front of the room. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the room was only half full of other stressed out looking students preparing for their day ahead. You decide to pick a seat towards the middle of the room to not look too eager.

As you’re getting your laptop and books out of your bookbag you hear footsteps walking into the room and the girls behind you immediately start giggling and whispering to each other. You look to see where they’re looking hoping they aren’t making fun of you, you see them biting their lips and looking at the front of the class. You follow their eyeline and your breath hitches.

Where your sociology professor should be standing is an Adonis, he has thick honey brown hair, peppered with grey, that frame his handsome face. His skin impossibly sun kissed like he’d just come back from a tropical island and not living in Hawkins, Indiana. He smiles nervously at the class; his smile is warmer than the sun despite his nervousness, warming you from the inside out. He’s wearing a white button down covered by a navy blue sweater, a pair of grey slacks and black high top converse.

“Ahoy folks! Are you guys ready to set sail on this vast ocean called Sociology with me? I’ll be your Captain Professor Harrington!” he claps his hands, his eyes waiting and hoping for a response.

The girls behind you giggle and a few other students around the room follow suit, he sighs contently. He goes onto explaining the syllabus and assignments for this semester. The class flies by, he’s easy to listen and pay attention to, sure his looks help but he seems genuinely interested in what he’s teaching. Which is a breath of fresh air, you diligently take notes, making sure not to miss anything. Before you know it, class is over and people start packing up their things.

“Oh class before I forget, if any of you are commuters, come get a parking pass from me unless you want a ticket.” he announces to the class, most of the class you assume living in the dorms hurry out of the room.

“Because not only are we charging students tuition we are also charging students just to park on campus, capitalism at its finest folks,” he snorts, shakes his head, and walks to his desk leaning against it.

After finally putting all your things away and checking where your next class is you head up to him. Just being near him makes your heart beat a million miles a minute, like your unworthy of being in his presence let alone so close to him.

He smiles warmer and wider as you stand in front of him, “Hey what can I do ya for?” he asks brightly.

“Oh, uh, I just need a parking pass if that’s okay,” you say quietly.

“More than okay my dear!” he declared. You blush at his words while he picks around in his desk drawer for a parking pass. His nose scrunches up in frustration as the digging becomes hastier and more urgent.

“I coulda swore I put em in here… or did I leave them in my office?... shit,” he breathes.

You giggle at his disorganization, and he looks up at you embarrassed, you wondered how a man who looks like how he does could ever be embarrassed about anything. The girls who sit behind you would agree.

“I promise I’m not usually this discombobulated.. just uh first days always come sooner than I think.” he chuckles

You nod knowingly at him “No worries I can always get it tomorrow or something.” you say waving his worries off.

He looks up at you through his glasses relieved “Really? That- that would be amazing. I would go grab them from my office, but I don’t think I have enough time to before my next class.” He studies you for a second like he’s actually looking at you for the first time.

“What’s your name again hun?” he says casually, as he opens his computer and types on his keyboard.

Your heart flutters at the continued use of nicknames, you take a second to study him again before you respond. He’s hunched over his desk, typing and clicking away on his computer like he’s searching for something. His eyes crinkled at the edges with age, memories of many days smiling and being in the sun. You notice his freckles that adorn his face and neck that you couldn’t see during class. If you had it your way, you’d take your time to count them all to try and make sense of his godly beauty. And his hands.. his hands look so strong effortlessly gliding across his keyboard.

You must have taken too long to answer because he looks up at you expectantly and raises his eyebrow and smirks. You shake your head slightly trying to regain your composure.

“S-sorry first day jitters, my heads a bit scrambled,” you confess to him. You tell him your name quickly, you hoped that your cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

His eyes softened a bit and nodded and continued to type on his computer for a couple more seconds before turning to you again.

“I emailed campus security to let them know that it’s my fault you don’t have a pass and if they do give you a ticket just bring it to me and I’ll sort it out for you, okay?” he states and steps away from his computer to face you again.

“Oh wow thank you so much Mr. Harrington, I really appreciate it!” you chirp

His face scrunches up at the name, and chuckles, some of his honey brown hair falling in front of his face, his hand ready to catch them and put the strands back in place. You were mesmerized.

“Uh Mr. Harrington is my father, call me Steve er Professor Harrington works to if you don’t want to be on a first name basis.” He says kindly

“Oh well thank you regardless…Steve.” his name sounds foreign but good on your tongue. You stare at your shoes and then realize that you’ve been in here looking at your professor for far too long.

What the fuck were you thinking? He probably thinks you’re insane but is too nice to say so.

“Ya of course,” he dismisses you easily.

“Anyways I don’t wanna keep you, have a good day,” you apologize.

"You too Y/N,” he calls, as you head out the door, glad that your back is to him so he can’t see you blush again just because he said your first name.

“Get it the fuck together.” you mutter to yourself as you walk aimlessly out of his classroom.

The rest of the day goes without a hitch, you find yourself actually excited for the upcoming topics in your classes. You’ve never given yourself the opportunity to properly nerd out about the things you’re interested in.

You finally get back to your car after all your classes and groan at the sight of a ticket stuck onto your windshield.

“Fuck…” you whine

Too tired to get it taken care of today you drive home and plop on your bed. Even though your classes were super interesting, it was very mentally draining. Extra draining because you’ve tried to force your brain to focus on classes and not think about your sexy sociology professor.

Was he this nice to all his students? Did you catch him eyeing you up while you were talking or were your eyes playing tricks on you? You keep trying to reassure yourself he is just really nice. But his hands… his smile…

You groan and rub your hands against your face trying to shake all the whirling thoughts out of your head. You force yourself to think about literally anything else, then your tummy rumbles. You haven’t had time to grocery shop considering you had just moved in yesterday and your fridge was completely empty except for some bottles of water and condiments.

Your phone buzzes next to you on your bed, you open it and smile.

“BITCHHHH I MISS U COME OVER! You’ve been in Hawkins over 24 hours & ive gotten radio silence from u! ur presence is being requested in the munson household immediately!

P.S Bring food my dad is starving me over here”

“At your service m’lady, cheeseburgers good?” you respond quickly

“ur a life saver babe<3”

Your mind drifts away from your professor and the ticket that is burning a hole in your bookbag. This place already feels more like home than any time you’ve ever spent where you were born. You missed your best friend so much. Violet Munson has been your ride or die best friend for as long as you can remember. You two became friends when you were sitting alone in the lunch room one day and she came and sat right down next to you and you two have been inseparable ever since… that is until her dad decided to move her back to Hawkins to be closer to family after the divorce right before freshman year. You had been crushed getting your best friend ripped away from you like that, but then you guys made the pack to get out of dodge when you could, and now you’re here… in Hawkins,Indiana.

You change into comfy clothes and grab some cheeseburgers, fries, and onion rings from the only burger joint in town and headed over to the Munson residence. You’ve never actually been to her house before because your parents never allowed you to visit after she moved away, so you two mostly kept in contact over constant texts and lots of facetiming.

Pulling up to her house you were more nervous than you thought, you hadn’t seen her in so long and hoped things wouldn’t be awkward. You turned off the ignition, grabbed the food, and went to open your door when you heard a scream come from the front of the house. You lift your eyes to see your best friend jumping up and down on the front porch in her pajamas. Violet had long bright purple hair and thick black eyeliner, kind eyes, a wide smile, and an infectious laugh.

“YOU’RE HERE YOU’RE REALLY FUCKING HERE HOLY SHIT!”

You laughed and dropped all the food in the front seat of your car and ran to meet her in the middle of her lawn and tackled her to the ground. You hugged her tight, squeezing your eyes together wishing the tears at the corner of your eyes to go away.

“Vi I missed you so fucking much.” you whisper

“Awe babe I missed you too.” she shares

You both get up off the grass and you grab the food and head inside. You set the food down in front of the tv like you used to do when she lived closer to you. You sit down on the couch and while she grabs plates. You sigh deeper into the couch, everything was just picking up exactly where you two had left off, you were gonna be okay. You smile quietly to yourself and then head to the kitchen to help her bring everything into the living room. You decide to watch a new horror movie that just came out, the two of you always bonding over everything creepy and spooky. You let Violet tell you about her partner Quinn, who she met a few years ago and was head over heels in love with.

Then the front doorknob jingled, and you heard the familiar thud of heavy boots.

“Ho- holy shit is that Y/N?!”

You turn to face the familiar voice at the door. “Hey Mr. Munson, long time no see!” you breathe.

Fuckk… when did Vi’s dad get so... hot?... what the hell is wrong with you today? First your sociology professor and now your best friends DAD?!

He grins widely at you just like his daughter, he shrugs out of his boots and walks into the living room.

“I got you a cheeseburger on my way over, still like double meat and cheese on your burger?” you question.

Mr. Munson puts a hand over his heart and falls into the love seat next to the tv.

“You remembered, I’m touched sweetheart.” he beamed.

“oh yeah no problem at all!” you blush.

“Well I’ll let you guys catchup, don’t need me harshing the vibes, Vi’s been nonstop talking about you coming to Hawkins a month!” he chattered

Out of the corner of your eye you see Violet roll her eyes at her father.

“Dad no one fucking says “harshing the vibes” anymore or at all, you’re aging yourself old man,” she chortles

Mr. Munson chuckles and puts his hands up in the air in surrender “Alright alright I’m leaving, if you guys need anything I’ll be in the garage. Thanks again for the burger Y/N!” he says kindly holding up the burger in one of his large tattooed hands.

You beam up at him happy to help, and this time you get a good look at your best friends dad. He’s aged so much better than you could ever imagine a man with Mr. Munsons lifestyle to ever age, the expression aged like fine wine captures it perfectly.

His brown hair still wild and curly as its always been but tied up into a low bun at the base of his neck. Only difference is the now visible little grey streaks that run through random curls. He has more laugh lines at the side of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Still wearing his normal garb, black jeans with loads of rips, a band tee with a leather jacket. His chocolate brown eyes still full of mischief and debauchery. His nose ring ever present but you spy a few more additions to his tattoo collection, specifically a new neck tattoo and a few more on his hands.

Fuck his hands… wait you have to answer him. Answer him before it’s weird that you’ve been staring at him so long.. you’re really on a fucking roll today.

“It was my pleasure Mr. Munson really,” you gush.

He gives you a wink that goes straight to your core and vibrates in your bones and heads to the garage.

Violet didn’t seem to notice how flushed you were, eyes still on the screen, interjecting at random times when a scene looks to fake or when the blood splattering doesn’t look real enough.

After the movie the two of you head upstairs to Vi’s room, she wanted to show you her new additions to her every growing crystal collection and a few polaroid pictures of her and her partner.

“They literally make me feel like a princess I feel so lucky, for our 3 year anniversary they gave me these black tourmaline pentagram earrings, aren’t they so cute?!”

Your heart fills with warmth, Violet has always been loud and unique, you are so happy for her that she found someone who accepts her for who she is and loves her for it.

“That’s really sweet Vi, i'm so happy you have them, and that they treat you so well,” you grin.

“Thanks… what about you though? You’ve always been very singular… looking to change that any time soon? You deserve to be happy babe, even if it just means getting laid you deserve to get some. You’re a fucking catch dude” ,she compliments

“I mean you know I had a thing with Dylan for awhile before he got back with his girlfriend...” you murmur

“Oh COME ON, you know that’s not what I mean, not some assholes rebound!” she insists

“Vi I don’t have a line down the block like you used to have, you’ve got that whole hot sexy goth girl shit going on, I’m just me.” you babble and point to your gorgeous best friend

“What about Tom? You were with Tom for a long time what happened with him?” she asks obliviously.

“Fuckin cheated on me,” you sigh. Re-living your lack of romantic endeavors to your very not single best friend being up there in the top 10 most pathetic things to date.

“Oh fuck that guy, how fucking dare he!” she sneers while she tries to light the perfectly wrapped blunt in her hand.

“Shit I think my lighters dead, can you go ask my dad if he has an extra?”

You nod and head downstairs and search for the door that leads to the garage, finally you find the door you’re looking for and the image in front of you almost makes you audibly gasp.

Mr. Munson has a cigarette between his lips hes strumming along to some metal song that he’s humming the tune to, occasionally sucking in smoke and blowing out the side of his mouth. His head bobbing to the tune of the song completely in his own world. He’s beautiful.

You look at the way his fingers move to the beat and strum the strings on his guitar, mesmerized by how pretty they are. You can see all the calloses on his hands from all of the years of playing.

Your hand moves without thinking and knocks on the side of the garage door, getting Mr. Munsons attention.

“Oh shit, hey honey, ya need something?" He questions

“oh yeah sorry, Vi’s lighter ran out, and we were trying to light a blunt, you got an extra?” You ask.

Growing up, Mr. Munson had always been the more laid back between Violets two parents, letting her test the waters herself allowing more than the normal parent would. But as long as she was being safe and not doing any hard drugs he was mostly lenient with her. Not that it mattered much now that she’s grown.

“Uh yeah I probably got one around here somewhere, come pop a squat while I look.” he gestures to the chair beside him.

Your legs wobble while you move into the garage, it smelled so uniquely of him. His leather jacket draped over the back of his chair, smoke in the air, and metal music playing lowly in the background.

His space made you feel at home, the garage door was open so you could see the sun setting in the sky, and the metal music is weirdly comforting. You find yourself tapping your feet to the beat.

Eddie went to his truck looking for an extra lighter and your eyes wander to his guitar. You can tell he really cares about it, its clean, the strings look freshly changed, and recently polished.

“Oh yeah she’s a beaut isn’t she?" He observes proudly, leaning against his car with a new found lighter in hand.

“Yeah really pretty Mr. Munson,” you remark.

He smiles at you, “Here ya go, I don’t know how much juice is left in it.” He hands you the lighter, for the few seconds your hands connect you see how much bigger his hands are than yours, it almost makes you topple over in your chair.

“Thanks,” you reply. You grab the lighter with your hand and put it in your pocket and push out of the chair headed back into the house.

“Were you always this shy?” he asks inquisitively.

You turn around to face him confused by his question, you never really considered yourself shy, it just takes some time for you to come out of your shell.

“Shy?” you reply. fidgeting with a loose string on your sweatpants, your lips in a fine line.

“Yeah..you just seem.. shy or sad maybe, you doin okay?” he presses

You sigh hard trying to find the right words to explain the last few years and what would be appropriate to share with your best friends dad. “I’m fine really, just a long few days.” you share and smile to try and make it convincing.

He clicks his tongue and you know that he doesn’t believe you, your heart sinks. You never want to put your sadness or hurt onto anyone else, you’re a big girl and you can handle it on your own. You change the subject to the empty beer glass on the table in front of him, “Need another beer?” you ask

“Read my mind darlin, thanks,” he replies.

You head to the kitchen to grab him his beer and head back to the garage to bring it to him. When you get back he’s back at it strumming on his guitar in his own world, you wish for a second maybe you could just sit in his little world with him, it’s quiet and peaceful, no thinking required. You set the beer on the table and turn to head back upstairs.

“Hey Y/N, if you need anything or even just to talk I’m around, I know I’m not Violet, but if you need another friendly face, I’m here.” he smiles warmly at you.

Your heart melts, of course he’s the sweetest man in the whole world. “Thank you Mr. Munson that really means a lot,” you blush. Thankful to have one more person in this town on your side.

You close the door behind you and rush back upstairs hoping Violet doesn’t notice how long you’ve been gone. You hear voices and giggling on the other side of the door,

She’s on the phone with Quinn.

“She’s returned! Come here I want you to meet Quinn!” she exclaims. You breathe out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, no excuse necessary. Your friendship with Violet has always easier than breathing. You spend the rest of the night smoking weed and talking on the phone with her partner, glad to have the distraction from your recent interaction with her dad.

Did he really mean what he said? Or was he also just being nice? I guess he kind of has to be nice to me, being his daughters best friend. Plus he’s so out of my league, a man like him would never go for a girl like me, right?

Only time will tell.

***Reblogs/comments are appreciated***

No Pressure Tags!: (Just tagging some mutuals I thought might enjoy!) ** If you wanna be tagged in the next fic lemme know**

@untitled74745 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @munsonology @lesservillain @tlclick73 @dukesmebby @cozyquinn @rowanswriting @succubusmunson @teddyeyeseddie @lofaewrites @chaoticmunsons @ryan-waddell11

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Older! Eddie Munson #Older! Steve Harrington #older eddie munson #older steve harrington #Eddie Munson smut #Steve harrington smut #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie munson x reader x Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson fic #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington x reader #Steddie x Reader #Steddie #chaoticharrington fics

166 notes · View notes

meanbossart · 28 days

Text

Another much overdue ask compilation! Some short-ish lore asks (Gale, Gort, DU drow relationships and pet-companion preferences) and a couple of art/advice ones sprinkled in. THIS IS BY NO MEANS ALL OF MY ASKS so as usual I appreciate everyone's patience!

I actually think he'd give them a pass entirely as soon as he noticed. Correct me if I'm mistaken but half-drow get No love from underdark drow and are usually surface babies right? So that fruit is miles away from the tree lol. I think he generally has a bit of a soft spot for mixed kinds since he himself feels like an amalgamation of sorts.

Thank you! They're kind of a pain in the ass to draw at times for that very reason but man I do like the look 😩if other people like it too then that makes it all worth it!

THAT'S TRICKY TO ANSWER BECAUSE OFTEN TIMES I'M NOT... REALLY TRYING. I've draw a ton of horror comics for mine and my partner's series' SAD SACK and SORTIE, so I think it just comes naturally to me 😅 also I do genuinely find expressive and, uh, rugged faces more attractive? (I think they look rugged, again that's what people tell me at least.)

I think the secret might be adding bits of realism in there. I get a lot of comments about the wrinkles and eyelashes I add to my art, as well as the way I draw individual teeth (though I've lately been making an effort to simplify my style in favor of drawing faster, so I haven't done that as much or in as much detail.)

Both symmetry and the lack of it can also add to that effect. I have employed both facial unevenness and almost point-perfect symmetry to achieve something a little frightening or otherworldly in my work. [MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Thank you so much!!! The contrast is very much intentional, that's what DU drow's character is all about ;)

Hahah well I somewhat doubt Bhaal would care that his spawn gets named, but either way he stripped himself of his name as soon as he killed his foster parents and abandoned the Underdark. He had a drow name that I jotted down somewhere but it's completely irrelevant because nobody has used it since he was a child, and he doesn't remember it (even pre-tadpole/having his brain scrambled.) Here's a little write up about his origins that might shed some more light on that: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739688837431836672/did-drow-ever-have-a-childhood-before-the-temple

And about his original drow-given name and the reason behind it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/741350986692591616/drow-had-to-have-been-given-a-name-by-his-adoptive

Everyone just referred to him as his supposed race, or as Bhaalspawn or Bhaal's child, and any other similar titles. Orin called him "kin" and "brother" and Gortash likely called him his associate. Post-tadpole the camp grows entirely used to calling him "the drow" and he has no desire to change that or to choose a proper name.

THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH😭 no reason to be intimidated, I'm just some rando drawing BG3 fan art LOL I've been drawing since I was a child, and started taking it semi-seriously when I was 16 years old, so twelve years ago! That's around the time where I got my first non-display tabled and used that well into my twenties, prior to that I only did stuff on paper and liked to do inks color with pencils. I never really ventured into traditional painting at all except for a little bit of water-coloring in college.

Traditional and Digital art are very much different beasts. Which one you want to start with is, in my opinion, just dependent on what you want to do. Digital art gives you a lot of tools that makes learning easier, but you might find yourself having much steeper of a learning curve if you ever decide to do traditional art instead. If you want to be good at both, you need to practice both, since the skill doesn't entirely translate from one medium to the other.

Naturally you will be able to draw well on either, it's just... Different. I will say though, that I think if you're still learning you should use whatever allows you to look directly at what your hand is doing, so either traditional or display tablet/Ipad. I have no idea what a non-display tablet would do to a beginner, but remembering my experience with it I feel like it might be a huge detriment to developing the skill (feel free to share your experiences in the replies if you disagree, as I would definitely be curious to read them!)

YOU KNOW ME BABY IT WAS MESSY AND COMPLICATED the tldr.: is that they were "buddies", absolutely no romance intended there on either mine or DU drow's part, but due to his nature the friendship was extremely weird.

Here's a couple of replies where I go into more detail about it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739191190871818240/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/744952815768764416/so-not-sure-if-youve-covered-this-but-i-thought

That's definitely reserved for the vamp LOL DU drow very much enjoys when Astarion teases and fusses over him, and while Astarion probably got a kick out of acting that way around such a big and scary looking guy at first, I think by "now" (later and post-game) he's pretty much immune to DU drow's looks and just enjoys doing it in earnest.

He's not at all averse to being touched (even rather intimately) by close friends, but he wouldn't be quite THAT vulnerable with anyone else.

HE REALLY DISLIKED GALE... He irked him out by seemingly fostering a rather persistent romantic interest in him for at least half the time they spent together (very much based on my interpretation of their in-game interactions at the time, though my Gale might have been a little bugged.)

But also they had a... Fairly in depth relationship still? Gale was a staple in my party, and even though I antagonized him constantly by the end of the game it still felt like they had so much weight in each other's lives, if that makes sense. I might need to do a bit of an "update" on the DU Drow/Gale lore sometime, I feel like I've had some thoughts since that warrant more exploration of their dynamic (you can find a lot of old asks about it if you just search the Gale Dekarios tag in my blog though).

The gist of it is that DU drow found him arrogant and duplicitous, his constant optimist irritated him to no end and felt like it veiled a stream of self-pity (two things DU drow despises) Gale's attempts to get through to him only added insult to injury. By the end of the game he decided to pursue the crown of Karsus and this only lost him even more respect in Drow's eyes, seeing as he doesn't value godly power at all.

I was pretty overwhelmed by the game at the start so I actually missed a lot LOL including Scratch. I did get the owlbear cub though, which DU drow gladly welcomed into camp since it was injured - but I think he would have wished for it to remain a wild animal and to return back to it's home after it had grown up a bit. He didn't really make a "pet" out of it more than he just looked after the little guy in the way it's mother might have, probably with Shadowheart's help.

He wouldn't be opposed to proper pets though if one were to stumble into his life. He'd definitely be more of a cat guy because of their independence and strong little attitudes.

It is very hard to build proper rapport with him. He will be "friendly" to most people who have a good sense of humor about them, but friendSHIP is another thing entirely.

I think it's kind of circumstantial. He's very economical in his relationships and doesn't really seek them out at all - so a situation where he's forced to be in someone's company might be the only way to develop a bond with him, as he doesn't appreciate insistence either and that's more likely to push him away. He doesn't value status or titles either (kind of looks down on them really) so that won't help.

I think he just likes people who are true to themselves and their nature, sometimes even if the nature is one he disagrees with at it's core. This is why he liked Gortash, why he and Shadowheart got along so well, and why him and Astarion fit together so seamlessly despite seeming so different. Likewise I think it's why he didn't jive with people like Gale or Wyll, because they seemed to be rather... Dishonest with themselves and their own end-goals.

#ask compilation #DU drow lore #ask

150 notes · View notes

koiiiiijiii · 1 month

Note

Could you do some windbreaker characters with a fem gyaru s/o? I would specifically like Vinny you can chose any other character if you want :)

author note : OMG!! I searched some photos in pinterest, like inspiration for gyaru, and wooow!! i will definitely take some details into my style bc its sooo beautiful… i genuinely thought (idk why honestly) that gyaru is more like pink barbie in 80-90s style but it looks so cool i can’t!! sorry for such long reply, and we r mutuals so i feel even more ashamed :(( i tried with more characters but give up and done just these two!! hope you will like it💋🎗️

warning : pure fluff, vinny being softie and shelly cutie as always

vinny - he definitely have 0 idea about all fashion trends, styles and different subcultures aside from street racing… so he genuinely don’t give a fuck about your style, he crushing into person, not a pieces of clothes you wear, but once your dialogue went in all different direction, you explain him what your style specifically is and what inspired you to join this subculture, he take note in his head that as soon as he will earn more money he will buy you as many new clothes and other items as you wish.

it was one of your first dates, you were sitting together in some random cafe that you found on the way from the second-hand store to which you dragged Vinny to find new elements for your outfits.

“so… was it really necessary to spend solid 2 hours in that shop to find just few pair of shorts, skirts and belts?…” he began hesitantly, doubting whether it was worth bringing up the subject. do girls get angry if you ask them why spend so much time in the shops? should he change the subject of conversation? or maybe you want to discuss this trip to the store? it seemed that now Vinny’s brains would just explode, before you he had not had to communicate so long and closely with girls. when you looked up at him, it seemed to him that his heart skipped a couple of beats - your eyes literally sparkled with joy and fun.

"of course it was!! if you want to find really unique things, then there is no place better than a second-hand store! of course, you need to try to find something really worthwhile, but when you find that very thing.." you clenched your fists and squeezed your eyes shut, smiling so sweetly and swaying back and forth with impatience

"...oh right, let's go at my place today!!! i'll show you why we spent so much time there, these shorts and skirts will just go perfectly..." Vinny continued to listen as you happily chirped about your ideas of what to wear new things with, and it seems you also mentioned new places where you wanted to take photos together with him, and much more. at that moment, Vinny didn’t cared about anything as much as your smile. you were so sincere with him, you smiled so brightly, just like a little star in his hands, and he suddenly remembered that pleasant, soft and warm sensation in his chest, just like in rare moments from childhood. your touch pulled him out of his own thoughts as you gently shook his hand, looking questioningly into his eyes.

"didn't you listen to what i was saying?" you squinted suspiciously. "wh... what?.. no, i heard everything.."

laughing in response, you pulled him towards the exit of the cafe, in direction to your house. at that moment, it seemed to Vinny that there were no problems around, and he was finally felt like ordinary schoolboy. yes, you were the one who helped him still stay sane. you were his own little star.

shelly - 100% fashion intusiast so she highlighted your style immediately, and liked it!! as i mentioned before, she definitely would post tiktoks/insta stories with you, admiring how cool and beautiful her girlfriend is.

“hey, let’s go shopping together after school? how about finding some new stuff?” shelly said excitedly, coming up from behind and hugging you. it was the last day before weekends starts, so after school you could relax and go shopping in search of new things, maybe you will be lucky enough today and you will find some cool archive things from 2000s.

"oh my god, look at this!!" Shelly squealed in delight as she ran up to you. in her hands was Vivienne Westwood's archive white handbag, with silver chains as handles and with a distinctive badge. it needed a little repair, but for the price that was offered for this handbag, it was worth it!!

"Shelly is so cute, how did you find it?!" you exclaimed joyfully, picking up the bag from her hands and examining it from all sides. today it was a really cool piece, and after picking up a pair of pumpons and key chains for a bag, you headed to Shelly's house, deciding to celebrate this purchase with a sleepover at her house, her grandfather wasn’t at home, and he anyway liked when you two hang out together.

"what do you think about ordering something to eat and putting on makeup together? we can shoot something in tiktok! oh! or let's film unpacking for this baby, what do you say?" you asked her excitedly, as you remembered that Shelly always wanted to try your makeup style and clothes you usually wear. and she was so pleased that you remembered such little things that she mentioned once quite a long time ago, and they were deposited in your head. hugging you tightly around the neck and whispering a quiet thank you, Shelly took you by the arm and headed for her home, excitedly offering you ideas for posing and which sound you should choose for your tiktoks.

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#windbreaker #x reader #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker headcanon #webtoon #headcanon #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker #vinny hong x reader #vinny hong windbreaker #windebreaker hong yoo bin #shelly x reader #shelly scott #shelly scott x reader #shelly scott wind breaker

156 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 6 months

Text

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n the thirteenth part! I'm so so so sorry for the wait but girl drained her writing abilities too much and I just couldn't write and then couldn't give you all a shit chapter. I hope you will still enjoy this! ✨🤍 also, your girl is running on 3h of sleep so if there are mistakes, forgive me... I'll fix them when my brain is once again plugged to the internet.🙃

warning: kids, past trauma, substance use... low key seems too little of a list but nothing else comes to mind

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Axel's been desperate for a couple of days now. He had managed to lift off the ground and do a couple of flaps with his wings at the start of the week. The excitement on his face when Azriel carried him back home was unmatched. Unlike anything you had seen before. He was glowing. Radiant. So deeply loved, and it showed. The boy had rambled about it throughout the whole dinner. But Azriel hadn't denied his excitement even once, a proud smile on his face as he let the boy babble on and on.

It felt easy. It was so easy to be there. In Azriel's apartment. To wake up next to him. To watch him come home after a long day. Fetch the kids for classes. Not to mention that his place was ever-shifting. After the first night on his mattress, which was rung by the furthest of walls, Azriel had shown up with Cassian the very next day. Boxes in hand, they got to work putting together the biggest bed frame you had ever seen. He covered the knives stand with some sort of spell. They were there still, a big part of him, but the kids could not reach them. His way of baby-proofing the space. Slowly morphing it into something that suited everyone's needs.

"Lift up and do ten flaps", Azriel's voice floated through the field. The day was beautiful. The sun was out. Warm rays of sunshine kissed the skin. You and Zofie were sitting on a big knitted blanket. The little girl beside you was threading flower crowns. Her tiny tongue was slightly out as she concentrated on her very serious task.

"I can do more", Axel urged. He was standing next to Azriel. His tiny Illyrian leathers clad his skin. His safety armor. A tiny little piece of comfort that the spymaster had gifted to him. Azriel shook his head as he smiled, "Start with ten, then we will see". You could tell that Azriel had also found comfort in teaching Axel. A second chance at a glimpse of a happy childhood. With him and only him in the center of someone's happiness.

For a moment, there was only a warm breeze humming through the field. You watched how Axel got into a position. His determined face faltered, and his eyes darted back up at Azriel. "You will catch me, right?", here it was, that same bitter fear of failing. Of not trusting himself. But Azriel didn't let it settle in as he kneeled next to the boy, "You won't need my help, but if you do, I will be right by your side". Axel's big, golden eyes blinked at Azriel.

"And if I don't make it...", the boy doesn't finish the sentence, but the premise of it is clear. Will you be disappointed? Laugh? Give up on me? Azriel cupped the Axel's cheeks between his scared palms. "Look at me", the spymaster muttered, "You will do it. I know you will. You have to believe in yourself". They looked at each other for a moment before Axel quickly nodded his head, "Okay. I've got this", the boy muttered, Azriel quickly ruffled his hair, "Hell yeah, you do!".

Axel found your eyes across the field. You smiled at him, nodding your head. He could do it, and you did not doubt it. The boy nodded his head one more. A deep breath in. And within seconds, his tiny frame shot up. Axel faltered ever so slightly. Gravity pulling him down. But with one determined flap after another, he managed to stay up above. "Look at me", he beamed from the sky, the wind dancing in his onyx hair. "Y/n! Zo!", he shouted. The girl beside you let out a gasp. Scrambling to her feet as she ran through the flower field to get closer to her brother, "Axel!", she squealed happily. "Good job, honey!", you called right after her, your hand on your chest as you tried to suppress your emotions. One beat after another. Just his energy strained as fast as it was mustard. And the boy slowly sank back down. But the smile on his face didn't seem to shrink.

"Did you see it?", Axel looked across all three of you, breathing heavily. "We did, my love", you beamed at him, leaning closer to kiss his sweaty forehead. "I flew like all of the Illyrians", the boy taped at his leathers proudly, his eyes darting up at Azriel, whose smile was just as big. "I'm so proud of you", Azriel said. "Thank you, pa-Azzy", Axel stuttered, his big eyes suddenly laced with worry, but Azriel only scooped him up in his arms, seating Axel on his shoulder, "You got it, bud".

The kids were far from, content afterward. Too much excitement rushing through their tiny bodies, and now that they were painfully aware that they had Azriel wrapped around their fingers, within a couple of hours you were back in the city, for none other than street pancakes. "You didn't have to say yes", you muttered to Azriel as you two trailed behind the two overly excited younglings. "Why, not?", he said straight away as if tending to their needs had already become second nature for him. "Well, I'm sure you have meetings or people to scare", you shrugged, making Azriel chuckle slightly. The expression easy to miss because his colder mask was back on. What you didn't miss was how some people looked at him. At you all. The emotions were hard to pinpoint, but it was clear evidence that one didn't find the spymaster of the night court casually walking through Velaris streets.

"Look, it's the fountain", the two little monsters came tumbling back, pulling at the skirts of your dress, tiny fingers pointing toward the water fairies. "Now, what did I say about pointing fingers, huh?", you huffed, and the two of them dropped their hands. Quick apologies swirled around, but the pulling didn't ease. Azriel took a heartbeat to look at you three. The way a laugh slipped past your lips as one of the fairy bopped Axel's face making the boy jump back slightly. All courtwork aside, the past couple of weeks have left Azriel feeling weightless. No burdens. No worries. And if something managed to cling to him after a long day, it would all melt away the moment he stepped through his apartment door, hearing your voices and laughter. It felt so good to finally have something that belonged just to him. And it wasn't that territorial fea-male thing. Well, yes, it was, but there was so much more. Azriel finally felt like he had a purpose. His bland days were finally filled with more color. He loved being able to take Zofie to her dance classes. Fetch Axel for training with Cassian. To come home and find you smiling at him. To kiss you softly.

"Can I get two?", Zofie's voice filled Azriel's senses, and his head instantly turned towards the pancake stand. An old lady was already smiling as she looked down at the kids trying to pick their orders. "You won't be able to finish them both, bug," you said as you brushed your fingers through Zofie's hair. "But I can't pick between jam and chocolate", she pouted. Azriel stepped closer, earning a slight bow from the owner, that he quickly returned with a nod.

"Azzy, you pick", Zofie quickly moved towards the spymaster, cleverly making grabby hands at him so that once the order was made, she would be able to see how they were made because, not like Axel, she couldn't see over the stand. "I would like apple crumble, please", Axel said, fingers twirling with the material of your skirt. "And jam and chocolate", Azriel followed suit. You shot him a look, but he was already too occupied by how Zofie was beaming in his arms.

"Add it to my account too", Azriel said firmly, and you shook your head. "Nonsense, let me pay for it", you reached for the satchel fastened to your corset. But Azriel softly took hold of your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Don't fight me on this, love", he simply muttered. And stop frowning; it doesn't suit you. Azriel's smug voice filled your mind, making you let out a huff. You're too full of yourself; let me pay for something. You muttered back, but Azriel only smirked. You are paying; it's our shared account. A breath hitched in your throat. A shared account? But only members of the inner circle shared accounts with their partners. And you... you blinked a couple of times. Had Azriel set his claim over you to Rhys? You're not an object. Azriel's velvety voice rang out once more.

You were about to answer him a gasp left Axel's lips, soon followed by Zofie. "Grammy", the two of them said in unison. Cordelia had just set her bags down as the two swarmed her. Jumping. Giggling. "My gorgeous bunch", the woman said, cradling them both in her arms, "I swear you two have grown an inch since I last saw you". They both beamed at her, pancakes long forgotten. Azriel's shadows made quick work of his mother's bags. Tiny little clouds got to work immediately as they moved to carry them back to her house.

"Azriel, Y/N", Cordelia said, turning to you both as you finally approached her hands full of food. "What are we celebrating?", the elderly woman asked. "Grammy, I flew. Azriel took me to the field. I was up in the sky", Axel said excitedly, and your eyes instantly filled up with tears, making you blink quickly. "Oh, sweet boy", Cordelia cupped Axel's cheek, "That's wonderful. Soon, you'll outmatch my Azriel. But don't tell him I told you so". The boy giggled sheepishly, catching a glimpse of Azriel, but his calm expectation didn't change.

"Why don't you two leave them with me", Cordelia said after a moment, "I'm heading home anyway". The kids instantly stepped towards her as if they didn't care for what any of you had to say. "No, ma'am, that...", "Cordelia, darling", Azriel's mom corrected you instantly. "You must be tired, and...", you tried again, only to be met with another smile, "Nonsense, these two are angels. Plus", she muttered, "When was the last time you two spent time alone?". Never. The answer was never. And the fact that the answers sank on you so quickly said it all. You and Azriel had never truly been alone. Had never been on a date.

"Exactly", Cordelia stated proudly. "I'm looking after my grandchildren, and if I see any of you at my doorstep before tomorrow evening", she narrowed her eyes, "Let's say you don't want to know what will happen". Azriel let out a laugh, shaking his head at his mother. "Thank you", he muttered. Cordelia simply leaned in to kiss her son's cheek before she squeezed your shoulder. "Have fun", she winked, turning towards the kids, already pointing them towards another stand.

"Do you want some more?", Azriel lifted the halfway-empty bottle, but you shook your head, "I still have some, thank you". Oddly enough, it felt strange to spend time with Azriel like this. No rush. No need to go places. No kids to look after. No serious worries. Just you two. A quiet apartment and a long night that was still ahead of you two. You shifted, brushing your hand through your hair.

"This feels strange in a way", Azriel breathed out, running his hand over his face, "I mean, I don't want you to feel like...", he was quick to point out, but you rested your hand on his thigh, "We're not used to being together like this". The shadowsinger nodded his head before he leaned back into the sofa, putting his glass on the tiny table that was set on the side. His arms reached forward, pulling at your hand. A chuckle slipped past your lips as Azriel tugged you closer to his chest. "What are you doing?", you breathed, still smiling. "Something I should have done at the start of the evening", Azriel mused, letting out a satisfied hum now that you were pressed against his chest.

Silence filled the room. You let yourself listen to the way Azriel's heart was drumming right beneath your ear. Warmth spread through your body. This, without a doubt, was how peace felt. "Should we play a game?", Azriel spoke up, finally making you lift your head from his chest. "A game?", you frowned slightly, pulling away. "Yeah, like, get to know each other game", Azriel breathed out, a slight pink tint brushing his cheeks. You let out a chuckle. "Okay, I am...", you breathed out, "Are Rhys and Cass your biological brothers?", "Straight at it...", Azriel let out a surprised breath, and worry instantly washed over you. "Was I not supposed to?", your big eyes looked at him. "No, no, it's okay; I like that you're taking the lead", Azriel reassured you wiggling his brows making you rill your eyes in return. You two moved to sit opposite each other. Your legs were tucked beneath you, but Azriel's hand still stayed on your thigh.

"And to answer your question, they are not", he said smoothly. "We meet in the camp. Rhys's mother pulled us under her wing; the rest is history but they feel like blood brothers". You found yourself nodding; you knew that they were in training together. Most people called them the inseparable three for a reason. The loved they shared always made you smile. It was rare. Especially between territorial Illyrian males. "Your mother was from Helion's court," Azriel stated, claiming his turn, "You've ever thought about going there?". You took a moment to let his words sink in. Rhys had brought that up a couple of times, but the idea of going to a place you knew nothing about to meet people you knew nothing about. "No...", you breathed out. "I mean, it'll sound bad, but Helion keeps his angels under tight wraps." Pulling the strand of your hair, you quickly twirled it around your fingers, "If he had use for me, he would have claimed me by now". A rumble left Azriel's chest, "No one can claim you; you make your own choices". His voice was thick with frustration. The thought, clearly, unsettled him. You reached for his hand once more, "Azriel, I know, hence why I said it would sound bad". But the frown between his brows didn't ease until your fingers carefully brushed over his skin.

You weighed your next question for a heartbeat before muttering, "Your hands, can you tell me the real story?", you watched as Azriel's face shifted with emotion. The man was almost a myth. The amount of stories told about him could easily be turned into a book but... most of them seemed so far fetched. For a heartbeat, you even regretted your question, but then Azriel let out a sigh. "You know about the basement...", the spymaster clenched his palms together. "This was one of their games", you shifted slightly, reaching for his hands as you clasped them in yours. Azriel's eyes lingered on your joined palms. "One night they wanted to test how quickly I would heal. So they dunked my hands in oil and set them on fire", his words sounded cold and distant. But then how else would you talk about the trauma that shifted your life. You bit the inside of your cheek as you leaned closer to him. But before you could fully rest against him, you pulled his hands up to your mouth, placing kiss after kiss on the scared surface. He didn't stop you. Didn't pull away. Soaking in the warmth of you. The tender touch.

But your movements stalled at his next words, "Your back", Azriel muttered. You let go of him instantly, drawing back, "What of it?", you asked, even if you knew more than well what he was asking for. In a way, your scars linked you both together. But you've worked your hardest to keep that side of you hidden from everyone. Even yourself. You let your head drop slightly, and Azriel's fingers instantly hooked beneath your chin. If there was something this man was against, it was you feeling small when you were with him.

"You don't have to", he breathed out, his gorgeous hazel eyes piercing through you. Eyes that had captured your soul the very same night you two had come for one another's throats in his room. You chose to swallow your words, turning away from him. Suddenly, your dress felt way too tight on your body. Azriel took that as a sign to drop the topic, ready to apologize when you muttered, "Undo the ribbon". Azriel swallowed thickly. Hesitation stilled his movements. But his trembling fingers still reached for the light blue material. Goosebumps trickled down your spine instantly.

Azriel could see the way your shoulders tensed the looser the fabric got around your chest. Leaning in, he placed a couple of loving kisses on your shoulder blades. He hesitated before letting the fabric fall off your skin, your hand instantly moving to cover your breasts in front. But Azriel was too far captured by the brutal slashes that even now shined red and black against your skin. The angel wings you had didn't start at the same spot where Illyrian wings rooted, which explained why the spymaster didn't catch a glimpse of them while you were in nothing but your silk nightgown.

"I hoped I could heal myself...", you muttered quietly, biting your lip. Azriel's eye snapped back up, and he instantly brought your trembling frame into his chest. Mother, strike him for letting himself gawk like that. He knew what being stared at like that felt like. The scrutiny. The pity. Blimey, his own family still shot him glances like that, and here he was. His strong arms cocooned your frame before he realized the lack of clothes covering your chest. Azriel's cheeks pinked, even if he couldn't see anything that he hadn't already seen. He moved to lift the fabric, but you stopped him, motioning for him to let you go. He got his clue here—you didn't want him watching, so his head wiped to a completely different side.

"I've never been with a male", you muttered after a heartbeat. Azriel's body froze once more. Something deep and territorial, way stronger than before, scratched at his chest. "Was I your first...", his words were barely a whisper, as you chased them away. "Everything so far...", you breathed out. Was admitting this to him awkward? Yes. But he was your mate. Surely, he would realize that eventually. Azriel turned back to face you. Realizing that he probably should have asked if he could turn around in the first place. But he found your shy eyes looking up at him. He reached for you once more. Pulling you over his lap, his hand resting on your hip.

"Thank you for sharing that", he breathed against your neck, brushing tiny feather-like kisses all over your collarbones. The tickling sensation made you giggle slightly before a frown washed over you once more. "I understand if it's not attractive", you breathed out, and Azriel halted in his movements, pulling back to meet your eyes. "Love, I'm more than okay with waiting till you're ready", he reassured you as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. "But that's... you have needs", you whispered, catching his wrist. Azriel let out a breathy chuckle, scanning your face before he leaned in to peck your lips. "I am no longer a teenager who gets a hard-on from any moving thing in front of him, but thank you for your concern, love", he said, utterly satisfied with his answer. "Ew, Azriel", you cackled, hitting his chest playfully. The spymaster's laugh matched yours in no time as he pulled you down on the plush sofa, nestling you deeper into his embrace.

You had hoped to wake up in Azriel's arms the next morning. The intimacy of last night's confessions still lingered. But once the slumber left your body, you quickly realized that the bed felt way too cold. A pang ached in your chest, but you knew that he was a busy man. A note you found in the kitchen proved just that. An urgent meeting. I hate that I had to leave you like that. I will see you in the evening, Az. You brushed your fingers over the paper, turning your attention to the bond, smothering it with soft touches, only to be met with a cold wall. You frowned slightly. But then, he always shut it off when he was out on duty. You knew that if something was seriously bad, he would answer. But nothing was seriously bad and you weren't about to become a needy partner. Brushing the nagging thoughts away, you smiled to yourself. No, nothing was going to ruin the plan you had for tonight.

And it started out so perfectly. From the way you had allowed yourself to explore the city. Wondering from one shop to another. Everyone greeted you with a smile. The streets were humming even in the early morning. All the smells and sounds fill your senses. You tested cheese from a local farmer's stand, listening to the stories about the sheep that he owned. You had forgotten what it felt like to live like this. Now fully understanding why Zofie and Axel loved it here so much. The white, quiet walls of the sanctuary felt more like a prison than a happy home when you compared it to the city.

Your arm was aching from the bag you were carrying, but it didn't seem to bother you today. Your eyes caught the stand full of freshly cut flowers. Like a little bee on a hunt for nectar, you turned its way. The lady greeted you with a wave. She, like the man before, shared her passion for the blooms before wrapping a big bouquet of peonies in paper. The smell of them made your lips taste sweet. But the moment her hands brushed yours, you felt a tight grip on your arms. Dark eyes looked at you. Sharp venomous teeth gleamed, "Silly child, he is not your happy ever after. You're burning in flames of pain for your mistakes", the thick words sounded, making you draw away, nearly dropping all of your stuff. You bumped into someone, pulling your eyes away from the lady, and when you finally blinked, a man was holding onto your shoulders. Steadying you. "Are you alright, dear?", the female called out to you, making you take a double look at both of them. "Yeah", you muttered, feeling your cheeks heating up. "I'm so sorry, I just got dizzy from all the smells", you breathed out, quickly taking hold of your things and hurrying away.

You hoped the feeling of unease would lessen eventually. That the image of that monstrous face would fade. But it stuck around. Sending shivers down your back all day long. The same way it did up at the house of wind. You had felt slightly better at Cordelia's house, where you stopped to get the kids, but the moment you crossed Azriel's apartment's entrance, it clasped right over your throat once more. "Do I put this in?", Axel called out, making you draw your attention back to the two kids. A pot of stew was bubbling on the stove. You pressed a palm against your temple, an odd throb aching there.

"Yes, sweetie, give it a mix too", the two of them had been desperate to make Azriel's mother's stew. Cordelia had cooked with them a couple of times, and now they had taken it upon themselves to show what they had learned. "I need help", Zofie muttered, pulling at your sleeve. She had been tasked with pulling some of the herbs from the stems and dicing them. Yet your body didn't seem to comprehend the request. Axel turned to her instead. "Show me", he said, but you could feel his eyes on you. Both of their eyes are on you.

"Y/N", Axel called out softly, "Is everything okay?" The real answer to that would be that you didn't know. It was the tightness and numbness in your chest that unsettled you the most. You've never felt like before. As if something was missing all of a sudden. You tried to claw out of the hazy daze, "Yeah, I'm...", but your voice died down to the sound of the knock on the door. Axel jumped off his step stool, but you caught him by his shoulder. "Stay here with Zo", you muttered. Deep down, you hoped that it was Azriel or someone from the family, but then Azriel wouldn't knock. He never did.

You cracked the door open as if you already didn't feel confused enough. There she stood. The prettiest pink dress framed her figure. Loose curls fell over her shoulders. Elain. You braced yourself against the doorframe. Mother, don't let this be what you thought it was. "Oh", the female gasped lightly. "I...", she stuttered, suddenly growing fidgety. "How can I help you?", you breathed out, trying to keep your racing mind at bay. "Azriel said we would meet here; that usually means alone", her tone was sweet, but every word sent daggers flying straight into your heart. Silly child, he is not your happy ever after. The voice echoed in your mind. You blinked rapidly, frown marking your features. For a moment, it seemed as if something flashed through Elain's eyes before she mustered a forced smile back on her lips.

"I apologize for interrupting", Elain turned to walk away but halted quickly as if changing her mind. "Actually", she muttered, "I forgot about a little gift", her voice trembled as she pulled her hand out of the dress pocket, opening her palm to reveal a crystal-clear powder. She blew on it gently, flecks flowing towards you. The same invisible hand clawed at your throat. You tried to gasp for air, but it felt useless. You staggered back, the sound of someone grinding their teeth drilled through your head. A scream echoed through the space as your body hit the floor. Muffled noises rang endlessly. Noises. Screams. Zofie and Axel. The last bits of your rational mind called out. You dug your nails into the floor, turning your body towards the kitchen. Black figures swarmed all around, both of the kids trashing in their grip. You reached your hand towards them, but before you could cry out to them, everything went black.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @hijabi-desi-bookwarm

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar imagine #azriel spymaster x reader

333 notes · View notes

undercoverpena · 10 months

Text

BAD DAY

francisco morales x f!reader

warnings: angst. sad girl jo hour. comfort!frankie. bad day!reader. work is mean, and frankie is kind. also wrote entirely on my phone, so if there are errors, pls pretend there aren’t.

you: hey, don’t think I’m gonna come over. had a bad day, just need to shower and sleep. sorry! I miss you xx

it’s been a bad day. rough, horrid. almost turbulent. one of those one-thing-after-another kind of days.

the ones where you fire off a text to cancel plans and lean on the steering wheel to level your breaths.

you’re sorry, and you miss him.

two thoughts which revolve around the ripped-open pit in your brain as soon as you’d put them in the text. because you are, you do. hating yourself for being a disappointment, for letting him down—for wasting his time—as you turn the key to spark your car to life as you lift your head.

the drive home is just as torturous. hitting every red light—the radio playing all the songs which grate. doing so until you flick it off, sitting in the thick silence of your own making.

frankie would make it all better. five minutes in his company, and you’re sure you’d want to smile—you’re just unsure if your face could make it happen. he deserves better than seeing you like this, downtrodden and broken.

when you pull onto your drive, the rain is still coming down—hammering its watery fists against the roof of your car. then it begins pounding on you, doing so until your key unlocks the front door, darkness and emptiness greeting your sad mood like a friend.

usually, you’d care that you're leaving puddles behind you. tonight you don’t. teeth chewing on your bottom lip, cutting the skin, making that copper taste flood your thought.

you think of calling him. selfishly listening to his voice as you try to ask about his day, hoping he won’t ask you about yours. it’s why you don’t call, placing your phone on the side, staring at it under the glow from the streetlight through the window.

tomorrow, you promise. tomorrow you’ll call him.

your clothes make it more challenging than needing to as you peel them from your skin. a bond having been created between flesh and cotton that it makes anger swim with tears. almost feeling suffocated, eyes brimming as your shirt unsticks from your back and meets the tiles with a slap.

then you’re under the shower, letting hot water warm your bones as tears (thick and full of stress) careen down your face.

your fingers have pruned for a while before you turn the water off. stepping out, doing a poor job of drying yourself—and then pulling on one of his jumpers.

the one hung on the back of your bathroom door. an accidental thing he’s left behind—a welcomed one in your eyes.

it goes well with your sweats, not that it matters. your bare feet shuffling across the floor to your kitchen, stomach groaning, droplets falling down your neck to your collarbone. it tickles, distracting you.

you blame that for why it takes a second before you smell it. before you hear it.

sizzling. accompanied by the distinct sound of a knife on a chopping board. a sound you know from only three places: your childhood home, late-night cooking shows and francisco morales.

you doubt it could be any of the former, but as you round the corner, you’re thankful it’s him.

all hatless, rolled up sleeves and soft brown eyes. his gaze on you, taking in the sight of you (likely wondering if he can have his jumper back) before the kindest, most gentle smile slowly adorns his face.

it warms you—the last few parts of you that the shower did not.

you almost ask how, why. lips curling around them, yet something clogs in your throat. sticks to the side, latches in and makes it hard to form syllables, never mind words.

deep down, you know the answer to both, anyway: it’s just because.

because this is more than dating.

because you matter—more than he can find words for, and your ears are ready to hear.

because he cares for you—knew you needed him, and this is how he cares.

your bottom lip wobbles at the silent answer. the one your brain fills in from how his brows lift ever so slightly and his eyes pool with more adoration.

more tears threaten to break the dam at the sight.

something he must be able to tell, wiping his hands down his worn jeans, leaving the knife and the half-cut salad as he moves towards you, closer and closer.

you don’t feel him make impact at first, but you smell him. all cedar and musk, a scent you associate with home—with him.

and then you feel him, his chest against your front, his neck against your face as his arms wrap around you, as though he can hold you together with sheer will.

maybe he can.

because it feels okay now, he’s here—he’s safe.

and while you hadn’t wanted to cry, you do. but not because you had a bad day. but because you’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve him.

he’d known something was wrong at lunchtime. when you’d called him, voice all soft—edges of your words brittle.

his gut worry had been confirmed when he read your text.

something niggling, twisting inside of him. so much so, he didn’t think as he grabbed his hat and keys. put his truck into reverse and pulled off the drive.

it crossed his mind he should call. check. not wanting to invade your space, yet—

Frankie has been shut out before, by others. the silence (them wanting something but not asking) cracking down the centre, not sure what to do, even less so when they rounded on him, asking why he didn’t do this and he didn’t do that. I shouldn’t need to ask for you to be there. but it turns out they did.

with you, though, he knew. knew what needed to be done, what he wanted to do. it’s why he pulled up outside your place—spotting your car in the drive. the car lights being cut, the wipers stopping as more rain blurs his sight.

you were home, but the lights weren’t on.

his teeth nipping at his thumb, eyes staring—waiting, wondering. seconds stretch into minutes. the feeling—the one stemmed from a need to make sure you’re okay—tightening in his chest.

fuck it, he thinks, getting out of his truck, moving to yours, spotting how it's unlocked, a dread filling him as he moves up the porch to your door.

earlier, weeks ago, you’d told him where you kept a spare. half-hidden, one of those Amazon-bought fake rocks, and a sea of others so similar around it. he didn’t need to furrow, to search, he knew the one—saved it in his mind when you showed it to him.

for emergencies, you’d said—but your lips had curled into a smirk. like? he’d questioned. and you’d shrugged, faking innocence. you might fancy breakfast with me or something?

it slides into the lock with ease, turning it—greeted by no shout or scream. he steps in, his boots squelching, seeing small puddles that lead a line.

then he hears it—

a shower and your sobs. ones that echo out and hammer against him—pecking at muscle and flesh.

it takes him no time to find your car keys, lock your car before he shuts the door behind himself. his hat removed, boots following before his jacket slides off, and he folds it near your door.

just until you’re out, he tells himself. palms spreading down his thighs, moving to your kitchen, checking you have food, only to find no leftovers, nothing quick.

frankie knows you well enough to know that you don’t cook for yourself much, even when you’ve not had a bad day. his hands moving, rolling up his sleeves as he stares at what you have—an array of choices hurtling through, ones that require spices he can’t be sure you have. so he does the best he can.

frying. chopping. so focused on being quick, tidy—he looks up to find you standing there.

there’s not a version of you he wouldn’t find attentive. you took the breath from his lungs that first night you smiled at him—made his heart double its pace when you talked to him for the entire night.

but you looked worn out, tired, and drained. like you’d had chunks of you taken out all day.

and it hurts, wounds. cuts more than a blade from an attacker or a bullet from an unseen rifle. his hands releasing the knife, hearing it—even if you’ve spoken no words.

why?

because, he wants to say. because you’re having a bad day, and it’s the least I can do.

because I care, and this is how I can show you.

you matter. a lot.

but he doesn’t say any of that, instead hoping the words make it to you from his stare. wiping his palms down his jeans, turning down the cooker as he moves closer, watching, wanting you to have time to push him away if you so wish to.

you don’t.

relief flooding, mixing and concocting with the earlier worry—not settling until he has you close. chin on your head, feeling your breaths along his neck—your hands balled up on his shirt, clinging to him as though he’s all you need to breathe.

frankie gets it.

as he holds you to him, feels you wobble and crumble, he’s pretty sure you’re all he needs to, as well.

an: I made myself cry, if I’m honest—huge thanks to G. I heart you.

#francisco morales x reader #francisco morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales triple frontier #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier x reader

416 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for converting to another religion?

Also just so i can find this im gonna type a word.

'DUCK'

Names are fake

I (FTM, minor but not really but yeah, i'll be a legal adult in no time so will by boyfriend, also I'm closeted to everyone except my boyfriend so assume any treatment i get will be with me as a woman) am agnostic. I don't hate religion at all, i respect and understand believers and when invited i participate in religious activities mainly doing it out of love for the person or because they seem genuinely fun.

Anyway, i have this boyfriend, Kenny, who i love very very much. I wouldn't say our relationship is 'perfect' because that is impossible, but we are close, happy, communication is good, i wouldn't ask for more. He makes me happy, he's the best thing that ever happened to me.

Kenny is jewish, he let me know few days after we started dating because he wanted to be open about it in a serious relationship. I 100% respected that and we had a warm lighthearted chat about it, he knows i'm agnostic, he respects that.

It's been a few years, and Kenny's family grew to love me.

With his family's consent, Kenny invited me to a few religious activities with them which i enjoyed doing because we were all in a happy mood. Over time I became comfortable around the family, we're friends now.

Let's skip forward, Kenny and I were having a conversation late at night cuddling in bed, and he brought up religion. We kept chatting, until he asked me if i would be interested in converting to Judaism.

I was kinda shocked when he asked that, one of the few moments he genuinely did something i didn't expect. I stay quiet, before answering with a low "I don't know, maybe?"

We leave the topic there, he wasn't mad or anything, instead he nodded and we just kept chatting about other stuff still cuddling.

It's been a few weeks after that, and the question is still there in my little brain. I've been doing research on Kenny's religion to have a better understanding of the question he gave me, and honestly? Doesn't sound like a bad idea, i'm up for it.

I brought it up to Kenny and he seemed glad that I actually remembered the question. It's nice to see everything is taken calmly.

However, part of the hesitation came from my doubts about changing 'religions'. I don't think agnosticism is like a proper religion, i mean it's not even Atheism level. But i have an understanding of how religions work from my Catholic childhood, i was raised Catholic. So if i'm correct most religions are given by birth, I feel like it would be an AH move to break the rule over an idea my boyfriend brought up.

His family seems okay with the whole thing though, so i have mixed feelings.

Is there actually an AH part of the decision, or am i overthinking it?

(sorry for bad English)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

133 notes · View notes

captain-mj · 3 months

Text

Plane Ride

Little Ghost mom centric thing because @snootlestheangel made me think about her again

Mrs. Riley silently handed her ticket to the airport security. She had never flown to America before. If she could, she'd probably feel anxious about doing something wrong and the man yelling at her.

Instead, all she could feel was the swirling mix of dread and relief filling her entire body. They bubbled and foamed inside her until she felt like she might throw up on the nice worker's shoes.

"Mum." Tommy put his hand on arm gently. "Sorry, sir. My brother is in the hospital and neither of us are taking it well."

"Go ahead and go through."

"Thank you, sir." Tommy held her hand as she tried not to cry again. "it's okay, Mum. Simon is alright. We're going to go see him and he's probably going to be fine and tell us we're loonies for even being worried about him."

Mrs. Riley wasn't sure she believed him, but nodded all the same. She was never the strongest person. Mentally or physically. It was not something she was proud of honestly. But she needed to keep herself together through the flight.

Tommy managed to sleep, probably exhausted from handling Joseph and the unknown amount of time he spent on the phone trying to get everything together. She made sure not to wake him up, even as she kept weeping.

Simon was alive. They told her he was dead. Went missing and would never return. That she'd never even get a body.

And now. He was alive, in critical condition and hadn't talked much. Her good boy.

Mrs. Riley started to sob again. She had never been a good mother. She always tried, but she didn't fool herself into thinking she was good. Simon protected her more than she ever protected him and that would probably always haunt her. A better mom would've left. Or at least made sure she was the only one getting hit.

The first time he had broken Simon's arm, she did leave. Just for a day. And then she came back. Weak and unable to handle the world anymore. When did she get like that? She asked herself the question constantly.

Not Simon though. Even as a kid. Always tough as nails.

The poor flight attendant offered her a drink on the house. She simply asked for a water and to please come back when Tommy was awake.

On foreign soil, she wondered how her son did it. Just... went to other countries. Talked with people. Smiled and drank and did all the things she did as a kid so easily.

A military personnel picked them up. They had on their formal wear. Only difference between it and the one, who told her that her eldest had died, was the flag and some colors. He had a scar along his head and tattoos on his arm. For a brief moment, she thought one of them may match her son's but his sleeve was half covering it.

"My name is Sergeant Alex Keller. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

He talked to Tommy like a soldier, greeting him with a thick Texan and shaking his hand. For her though, he must've seen the red eyes and the bags that came under them, because he actually smiled at her.

"I've never met someone as... strong willed as your son. I'll be happy to escort you both to the hospital. However," her blood started to drop in temperature, "i must warn you. He's not a happy camper. His condition also... isn't pretty. Doctors say he's out of the weeds, but recovery is going to be a slow and steady process."

Tommy nodded. "Strong willed... That's one way to describe him."

Sergeant Keller simply smiled and she got the impression he knew something she didn't. Most likely something classified if he was anything like Simon.

Alex took them to the hospital where they were told only one visitor at a time. With no hesitation, Tommy stepped back and said he'd wait in the waiting room. Although it was no doubt killing him, he simply squeezed his mom's hand and let go.

Mrs. Riley followed the nurse through the white halls, feeling nauseated as many childhood A&E visits flashed through her brain.

"Right now, he's on quite a bit of oxycodone."

"He's not supposed to take that."

The nurse faltered a bit. "There was no note in his file for allergies. We couldn't leave him unmedicated. Is there a different one that he should be on?" She sounded almost panicked, as she checked through Simon's file.

"Addiction... runs in the family. Sorry, I trust your judgement, miss. I'm just surprised he let you give him any pain meds."

The nurse relaxed and hesitated, again, almost telling her something. She seemed to take pity on the poor mom. "He was... delirious. We believe he was given some cocktails of hallucinogens and who knows what else. That with the infection and the fever... I don't think he would've stayed coherent enough to make choices."

Mrs. Riley found herself relaxing a little. "Simon knows how to dissociate. Hopefully that's what he did when they... took him. I understand there's certain things you can't tell me. I do. What can you tell me? Before I go in this room. What should I know?"

The nurse paused in front of the door. "I wouldn't normally do this. I need you to understand. But I think someone he's close to should understand what happened." She put the file on a small table nearby. "I'm going to walk away. Just go in when you're ready."

Mrs. Riley smiled at her and waited a moment or two after she walked away before picking it up.

Broken ribs. Dislocated. Vivisections scars. Damage to multiple organs. A surgery had been done to remove internal scar tissue. Puncture wounds all over. Unknown wound on the ribs. Cuts along face. Wound from a previously healed over slit throat. Signs of starvations. Signs of rape. Burns along feet, potentially from walking on hot ground. Scorpion stings on hands and wrists.

There were more, but most were cuts or bruising. Horrible, but nothing like what she had just read.

Mrs. Riley should've taken a moment to compose herself, but she couldn't. She didn't even put the file back on the table, just dropped it and went inside.

There he was. For the first time since he was six years old, he looked small. There were so many bandages, especially around his mouth. But his eyes were exposed. Along with dark hair that had grown out and fell in his face now. For a brief moment, his heart rate spiked in fear as he stared at her.

"There's my good boy." She said softly, walking over. She made herself walk slow and steady despite wanting to collapse. When he flinched away from her, it felt like she had her heart ripped out and picked apart. But he settled, his heart rate began to even back out.

He tried to talk but it seemed to pull something cause it winced in pain instead.

"Simon." His eyes went straight to her, soft and wet. "Blink once if i can take your hand."

One blink.

She grabbed it gently, cradling it. His hands dwarfed hers. There were so many scars. So much bandaging. Her eyes filled with tears and she could hear the heart monitor start to beep faster.

"I'm so glad I have you back, Simon." She rubbed his knuckles gently to calm him back down. "Tommy is outside when you want to see him."

It looked like he tried to sit up but the pained whimpering that came out of him made her sick.

"Sweetheart," she pressed his shoulders back gently, not liking the defocused look in his eyes. "please. Just stay still. Everything can wait. I promise. For once, just... let someone else be the strong one for you, alright?"

Mrs. Riley pulled up a chair and held his hand. Before long, he fell asleep, though he fought it to the bitter end. Tommy was allowed back eventually and she wasn't prepared for how fast he just fell apart.

Her poor boys.

Simon went to comfort him but was luckily stopped by both of them before he could hurt himself. He looked miserably at both of them but Tommy hit the pain med button for him and he relaxed back into a blissful and hopefully pain free sleep.

Mrs. Riley could be strong. She knew she could. Whatever Simon needed, he'd get.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley

75 notes · View notes

dulcewrites · 6 months

Text

New Traditions

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x afab!reader

Summary: As the first holiday season in your new home approaches, Rhett and you start new traditions and make promises (wc: 3k)

Warnings/Fic notes: mentions of unhappy childhoods (reader and Rhett probably needed more hugs as kids). Allusions to a rich!reader. Me using decorating as smokescreen for a character study lol. Daddy issues galore. The Christmas music is very self indulgent on my part too. Allusions/mentions to 18+ content

A/N: *Mariah Carey whistle note* ITS TIMEEEEEE. Lmao hiii, I hope you all are doing well. It has been a minute since I have written for a fandom outside of hotd so please bear with me on that front. I eventually want to take request soon (for Rhett, some tgm characters, and Calvin Evans) so my inbox is always open if y’all are interested - just shoot me something. If you read anything you like please reblog, like, and or comment. Also let me know when y’all put your decorations up (if you celebrate anything). I’m a staunch first weekend of December girlie myself ❤️

Masterlist

As pathetic as it sounds out loud, Rhett had grown accustomed to having the rug pulled out from under him. He had a looming and painful history with differentiating the cards life dealt him and what he deserves; over time, they began to blur together. At a certain point, he just resigned himself to life just being sort of... eh. Reminding himself that though things could be better, they could also be much, much worse.

It would all combinate in this hazy, syrupy snapshot of moments that ran together. At least, that is what he thought till he met you.

He thinks you would not understand it if he told you - that you are one of those people that is easy to love, while people like him took work to want. Hard work. Something that would be likened to the type of manual labor a Wyoming, farm grown boy like him is used to doing day in and day out. If he dared to express it, you would give him a good-natured laugh and shake your head like you always did when he said something self-deprecating.

"What kind of women do you take me for, Abbott," followed by a playful eye roll. "The type that settles?"

Rhett supposes that was the conundrum with you. Because the statement is not wrong; nothing about you gave off the impression you would settle for anything. That could come from a life of having almost everything at your fingertips. But the questions still tickle his tongue and doubts still makes his brain hazy.

It has only compounded since the two of you moved in together.

It was you who posed the suggestion, a shy smile on your lips. Despite the skepticism and disappointment from your parents, it did not feel right for you to sell your grandmother's ranch, the one your father grew up on, after she passed. You insisted on keeping it yourself, clearly having a soft spot for the house you would visit whenever you had the chance to.

Our home, you called it.

Your baking kits in the kitchen, his horses in the stable, and various clothes in the closets. He should feel reassured by this all… and yet… he waits for the other shoe to drop. For the rug to once again be pulled out from under him. Everything is so warm and new, and he worries about the day it slips through his fingers like sand.

Words in general, and expressing this specifically, does not come easy for him. Though loving you comes as easy as breathing for him. Rhett puts all that stuffing emotions and feelings away to good use as he tries to focus on the present. The only thing that manages to keep his mind clear is keeping his hands busy. So, he tries to make up for it in any way he can. The pale wall color your grandma insisted on keeping but reminded you of a sterile hospital? Painted to something more vibrant. The light fixtures in the kitchen that you said were ‘far too phallic to enjoy a meal under’? Well, those new ones are the best money could buy.

He just finished the building that rocking chair you got for the porch when you stick your head out of the house to call him in for dinner, eyes alight with something he could not put his finger on.

Dinner was silent, too silent for you, who always could spark up a conversation with anyone. A tiny sense of dread sets in, and he can’t help but think it maybe something he did… or did not do.

“The chicken is good,” he tries to start any kind of conversation or joy behind the eyes, but all he gets is an empty smile.

The unnerving quietness carries on for a few of minutes, but you suddenly drop your fork on the plate with a clank.

“Did y'all go all out for Christmas?”

Along with the noise the fork made, the question startled Rhett. He blinks blankly utterly confused by how it went from silence to that.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry,” your lips downturn into an embarrassed frown. “I should not have assumed y’all even celebrate it. I guess I just assumed with your mom and all.”

“No, we do celebrate,” he shakes head.

“So, did you go all out? When did you guys put the decorations out?”

Rhett shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Much like everything else that comes to his family, it is never linear or easy. He doesn’t know how to explain how one year they just stopped decorating; gifts and midnight mass were seen as hassles not the usual. Everything that the holidays stood for: family, love, gratefulness, togetherness was the antithesis of them. The joy and warmth of the holidays was sucked from the house and never came back till Amy was old enough to know what Christmas was - till Rebecca and his ma teamed up one day to make a fuss about the house being cold and sterile. What they meant is that Royal was cold… and sterile.

Rhett can still remember the look of disbelief in Rebecca’s eyes when Perry didn’t back her up on the matter. It was a look Rhett had seen from when he was a teen till the last day, he saw Becca. He still gets a rotten taste in his mouth thinking about he never got to tell her how much she meant to him. But that would also mean admitting that often his biggest advocate was a woman basically forced into the family versus the people he shared actual blood with.

Slight embarrassment burns his mouth like a hot iron down his thoat.

With a tight throat, Rhett shrugs. “It changed every year,” he lies. Then shakes his head. “It wasn’t a big deal really.”

Almost as abruptly as you stopped eating, you get up from the kitchen table. He just about calls out to see if you are ok, but you come back in the dining area carrying a picture.

“When I was cleaning out the garage, I found this.”

Rhett leans over, and he can’t help the slow grin that settles on his face. At first, he didn’t recognize the faces in the picture but then he saw a familiar crooked, mischievous smile, but this time on a younger girl. A little you. Decked out in a red, poofy dress and tiny white fur shawl. Shiny black saddle shoes that gleam even in the old photo.

“My baby as a baby,” he whispers.

Rhett continues to scan the photo. Behind you was two older people, and he can only assume they are your parents. They are exactly how he thought they would be and nothing like he thought at the same time. Your mom casually glamourous in green, your dad in a suit far too done up just for family dinner with a heavy hand on your shoulder. You wear her eyes but his nose. Right behind the three of you, a heavily decorated banister and in the foreground a Christmas tree so large that Rhett thinks it has to be a safety hazard.

You do not seem as happy or in awe of the relic as him, in fact you look sick at the sight.

“That was taken before they sat me down to tell me they were getting a divorce.”

Rhett’s heart sinks a little at the as the way your mouth juts out in bitterness.

“Looking back on it, I should have known. Dad was never home, mom was detached, probably depressed. Ya know, I remember them specifically saying that nothing would change, and naive little me not only believe that but wanted it. Not realizing something was just… off. But I guess most nine-year-old’s can’t tell the difference.”

He supposed it was easier for him to paint a rosier picture of your parents, for his sake and yours. Maybe winters in Texas were better than ones he experienced, maybe life was better. He has seen pictures of house, the compound, you grew up on. But now hearing what you are saying made pity take over the normal envy.

Rhett reaches out to grab your hand, and squeezes. “M’ sorry.”

You wave your free hand nonchalantly thought the casualness does not meet your eyes fully.

“No use crying over spilt milk,” you sigh. “I just saw the picture and tried to rack my brain for the last time we were all together for the holidays. After that one, it was one year with mama, the next with dad. And I don't think we ever decorated the house together. That was my caregiver, Jodie's job. Made me curious other people’s traditions I guess."

Rhett fiddles with the rings on your fingers while chewing on the fleshy part on the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe we can make our own,” he mutters softly. “Startin’ this year.”

You look up through your lashes, eyes fluttering away from the picture that sat on the table.

“Really?”

He nods. If that is what you want, he’d do it for you. Like he would do anything for you. Your gaze goes out the window across from the table. The leaves on the trees already began to change and fall to the ground. Going from green to various shades of red, purple, and brown. The season already has changed; heat melting away as the temperature dropped and cool breeze set in.

Your spirit noticeably lightens. “Do you think we can get a real tree? Mamma always said it was too much of hassle to get a real one.”

Rhett holds up his hand and extends his pinky. “As long as there is mistletoe in the house.”

Under new light fixtures, and with the sun grazing the ground as it sets, the two of you made your first promise.

Investments are important.

Your father told you so all your life. To the giant painting he bought for the Tennessee house (the one you later realized was a Degas), the stocks he bought for you for your fifteenth birthday, or his insistence you go to his alma mater. All investments that he expected payoff for. Your father will always be the smartest businessman you know, and he still managed to be so clueless with everything else.

People are not investments. Not really, at least. Not in the way your father looked at it. You can put money and effort into something, but it is never a guarantee it will work out that way. And you can’t just leave when things do not go your way. Your poor father never seemed to understand that, and you think it broke your grandma’s heart in the process.

And maybe you are no better than him. As a child, you admittedly reaped the benefits your parents offered you, almost to a fault. They would often laugh at your ability to move on to the next thing without so much as a blink of an eye. Onto the next toy, the next piece of clothing, the next makeup item. How can you criticize behavior you gave into yourself?

“You’re a reformed brat,” Jennie, your old debutant buddy turned psychologist said over the phone. “Give yourself some grace. At least you want better yourself now.”

So, you gave yourself just that. You didn’t sell your grandma’s place for the equity or whatever bullshit your dad mentioned. You didn’t Amelia County leave though your mom offered to set you up with her in New York. And God… you’re letting your fall - fall so deeply in love with Rhett, despite the voice in your head that tells you not to.

You replay your, in your opinion, embarrassing meeting. Bursting into tears in the middle of a grocery store was not the romantic story you want to tell others. But he came up to you to say that though he only spoke to her a handful of times when she would stay in her vacation home in Wabang, he knew your grandmother was a good woman and would be missed.

A blubbery mess of grief right next to the meat aisle spiraled into decorating your grandmother's house together - your house.

With Frank Sinatra’s version of ‘Let it Snow’ playing in the background, a rush of giddiness takes over. Jodie always said you had an eye for pretty things.

"A little excited, no," Rhett eyes copious amounts of bags you brought into the house. “It’s not even December yet.”

You survey the bags and boxes laid out. So, you went slightly overboard. Like driving out of town to the nearest big city to do some more shopping. Some habits die hard.

"This is just the starter stuff," you pull reams of garland out of the bag. “Just wait till they start selling the trees. Oh! And I got ingredients to teach you how to make sugar cookies from scratch.”

Rhett is silent for a moment, and you wonder if it is too much too fast. Your mother always said that enthusiasm, especially around men, should be tempered and demure. No one likes a girl that acts like a dog with a bone, sweetheart.

“Do.. do you think we can invite Amy over for the cookies thing,” his cobalt eyes soften at the mention of his niece. “I think she would like that.”

“Of course.”

You knew how important it was to Rhett for things to stay good with Amy. Her reception of the move was the only one he seemed to care about. You could not help but think the rest of Rhett’s family was skeptical about his decision. Cecilia was always kind towards you, and she was mostly receptive to the idea, but you assume it must hurt to see her baby venture out. Something about her reminded you of your own mother. Two women clearly used to the short end of the stick, and had to find ways to deal with it. While your mother found salvation in travel and extravagant parties, Cecilia found hers in faith.

Perry was well… Perry, about the whole thing. Just based on how he handled the news, and small tidbits you picked up from Rhett, it seemed like Perry was upset about Rhett making a choice just for himself. A luxury that the eldest son had a premium on for some time.

But you think it was the patriarch of the family who took it the hardest. It may be the reality of having two less hands around 24/7 like Rhett says, but you tend to think it is something deeper with Royal. Anger, sadness, pride - all of them??? You don’t know.

But what you do know is that family tension is something both you and Rhett know far too well.

After unpacking the bags and boxes you got, the smoky coos of Frank Sinatra transition into the pop Christmas playlist you put together. You don’t remember when the bottle of red wine came out, whether it was between Britney singing about what she wants for Christmas that year or Mariah singing about a holy night. It might have been after you insisted the two of you try your hand at diy decorations. But Rhett rolled his eyes when you talked about getting glasses, taking swings straight from the bottle instead.

“I don’t know how you drink this shit,” he wrinkled his nose, but he takes another hit.

“Just like you enjoy your watery beer,” you retake the bottle from him to have some more yourself.

“Last time I checked,” he expertly ties red and green ribbon into pretty bows and knots. “You were there with me, drinkin’ said watery beer.”

You bite your lip as you watch his brows furrow, and he pokes his tongue out sweetly as he ties meticulously.

“You’re quite good at that.”

“‘M good with ropes too.”

It could be the red wine, which always made your insides warm and fuzzy. Or if could just be the Rhett of it all. Him indulging this perhaps silly childhood wound of yours in full earnest.

“Hmmm,” you shuffle closer to him. The two of you might a makeshift area on the living room floor of pillows and blankets. An almost sickly-sweet peppermint candle ablaze on the table, and the fireplace crackling nearby.

“Royal used to make me secure the lines and pull logs. Kinda got good at it.”

By this time, you’re stuck at his side, suddenly a little fixated on hair on his neck that trickles up to his jaw and cheeks. You like him like this; hair falling from behind where it is tucked behind his ears. Scruffy and soft.

“Maybe you can show me how good you are.”

Rhett’s attention still doesn’t stray from the ribbons he cuts and ties, a task he is clearly taking seriously, but he nods in agreement. You roll your eyes slightly at how oblivious he can be.

“On me, Rhett,” you spell it out for him. “You can use the ropes on me.”

He stops and turns with a look of wanton, wetting his lips for a moment.

“Yeah,” he asks, the inflection at the end of the question breathy and soft.

You nuzzle your nose into area right under his ear with a hum, kissing the skin there and taking in the smell of his cologne. A woodsy scent with sprites of magnolia and cedar. It was one that consumed the bedroom and your mind. You spent much of your formative years pretending to hate the idea of being desired or wanted - chasteness an idea drilled into your head since you were a little girl and told by the ladies of your church that the only thing worse than being ungodly is being ‘fast’. Then you spent college overcorrecting to the point of farce. Letting the guys you knew had little regard for how you felt at the end of it make decisions for you. Emotionally, mentally, and sexually.

Your first time with Rhett was a hodgepodge of giggle and sighs only to be heard by vast emptiness of the home you do sit in now. His boots and jeans askew on the floor. You eccentric grandma’s knick knacks watching you two. Most notably, the cat clock that reflected in the moonlight, the one Rhett insisted you keep when he moved in. After him eating you out until you cried, and a night that ended in you making a trip to the local pharmacy for a Plan B, you honestly expected a series of awkward moments that would single-handedly ruin the small town bliss you experienced for the first time. And yet, in the morning, his lips turned up in a shy smile and he asked if you had bacon in the fridge.

You didn’t realize how badly you were under water and needed to breathe until you came to Wabang. Your lips work their way up his jaw til you reach the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s make it another tradition.”

#rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #outer range imagine #outer range #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott smut #outer range fic #black!reader #lewis pullman

126 notes · View notes

starseungs · 2 years

Text

➳ invisible ties. ksm

pairing — kim seungmin x gn!reader

not all childhood friends are known as such. those with invisible ties also exist, a bittersweet reminder of such friendship.

genre — hurt-comfort, sprinkle of angst, fluff(?), childhood friends to lovers, highschool au, popular!seungmin • 2.6k words

warnings — self doubt, a whole lot of doubts in general, misunderstandings (with a happy ending)

note — this is #1 on my skz as types of childhood friends to lovers series! tbh i didn't think i was going to like how i wrote this as much as i actually do but its one of my favorites now-

Seungmin had always been a talented guy. He had a knack for being good at whatever you would throw at him, proving to you that he could, in fact, probably do anything. But if there was one thing Seungmin was a total master at, it would be getting on people's good sides—heck, even just the bare minimum of gaining their attention. He was a shining star in everyone's eyes. That was the kind of guy Seungmin was.

So it was to absolutely no one's surprise that he was always considered popular, even as a kid in kindergarten.

That small neighborhood kindergarten was also where you met Seungmin. At the age of five, your little brain had already decided that making friends was a social construct, stubbornly refusing to interact with the other kids for more than three minutes. You were quite an interesting child, to say the least. And maybe that was why five-year-old Seungmin quickly took an interest in you—making it his life's goal to befriend the "shy kid" in class. The teachers would actually beg to differ with that title. You weren't shy, they said. Just "troubled."

As if that changed anything (and it really didn't.)

Yet, Seungmin did what no other kid would have dreamed of attempting, aka, interacting with you. And boy, did he do it with the passion of an Olympic athlete desperate for a medal. The five-year-old was determined to make you his friend—which, now that you think about it, maybe could have just been his pride; not wanting to accept that he couldn't charm someone. Kim Seungmin was the center of attention; that was just his natural role in life. But he stuck to his goal anyway, so you applaud him for his determination on that one. There were a lot of things to describe Seungmin, and being persistent was certainly on the list.

From sitting with you during activities to following you around on the playground, Seungmin would not leave you alone at all. He would trail behind you like a lost puppy (to be fair, he does resemble one) throughout most of the day, even though you barely looked back and acknowledged him. The only time you ever did so was when you got annoyed and told him to go away. And he did.

For about six minutes, before you had someone tailing you again.

One day, you'd just had enough of his antics, already planning to blow up without a single remorse on the poor guy to stop all this nonsense—up until he suddenly presented you with a pen with your favorite cartoon character on it, saying it was a gift he got you. Apparently, he begged his mom to buy it as a gift for you because you were the first thing he thought of the moment he saw the pen's design. Young you immediately felt so bad for plotting war on him only a few minutes back, your resolve folding only seconds later.

Seungmin wasn't that bad, you remember convincing yourself.

Your view of Seungmin turned a complete one-eighty after that event. It was then that you finally accepted his advances and allowed the friendship to start. Surprisingly, it survived past kindergarten all the way to elementary—something you probably should have expected since you even ended up in the same grade school (courtesy of your dear mother, who—like everyone else—took a liking to Seungmin and wanted you to keep being friends with him.)

Seungmin was as popular as ever, earning countless recognitions left and right for anything and everything under the sun. The complete opposite of you, who your classmates often forget was even there in the first place. You didn't mind, of course—still bearing the same mindset you had in kindergarten. As long as you had Seungmin, everything was fine. You didn't need anyone else; you'd already made it through life without your only friend before he even remembered your name. It's not like they were really needed.

Right?

That's what you originally thought, anyway. Yet, there was something you failed to notice up until the two of you reached middle school. And boy, were you in for a rude awakening. One that was worse than hearing your father turn the TV on at the break of dawn, with a volume louder than you flushing the toilet at midnight.

The first seed of doubt was planted during ninth grade, when you overheard a group of girls from your class talking about Seungmin. It wasn't long 'til you understood that they were his admirers, seeing as they were blatantly conversing about how Seungmin looked very attractive during baseball practice yesterday. How they could find him handsome in all his sweaty glory is beyond you. He honestly just looked like a whole bucket of water was dumped on him. But you guess there was always something for everyone, and continued to listen in. After all, even you knew that the Kim Seungmin of your school was pretty well-known as the "campus crush."

So when one of the girls mentioned wanting to give him a drink during today's practice break, you decided to give them money-worthy information—revealing your best friend's favorite drink. You knew that Seungmin wasn't very vocal about his own preferences, very much aware of how that would only cause more problems for him—his words, not yours. If his middle school fan club heard him complaining about them at the kitchen counter, shuddering over the sheer thought of what they could and are capable of doing, they'd be floored.

It was merely a short comment. "Seungmin likes coffee beverages," was all you inserted into their (rather loud) conversation. You had no particular expectation of the response you were going to get, but the one you actually got caught you off guard. That was because instead of focusing on the detail you had just dropped, they were more dumbfounded by the fact that you even knew that at all. What, did they think you were a stalker or something? Seungmin's fangirl deep inside? You knew what drinks he liked because he was your best friend—oh.

That was the exact moment you realized: in the eyes of almost everyone else, you and Seungmin had no connection other than being schoolmates in the same batch.

All your interactions with Seungmin were after school: you would go to school and home together, as well as hang out on free days. But you had little to no contact once you entered the school gates, which was where Seungmin normally bid you farewell to head straight towards his other friends. And that was fine with you. Not everything has to be shoved in people's faces.

You could survive even without your and Seungmin's friendship being public knowledge.

Except you soon come to the conclusion that you actually do—because that ugly green and sticky feeling in your stomach (which you later recognized as envy) was loudly screaming every time you heard one of his friends get addressed as "Seungmin's friend." Now, getting your identity watered down to being classified as merely a friend of another person is something that would greatly piss other people off, but you could care less. Your brain was experiencing tunnel vision on the fact that these people could be seen as Seungmin's friends by everyone else while you were stuck hiding in the shadows. It was eating you alive at that point; you wanted to stand right beside him too, like the "best friend" you claimed you were.

The ache grew even more during high school, when you found out you had formed romantic feelings towards Seungmin. It was sudden—or maybe not. Who knows? All you did know was that the realization crashed into you like a speeding bullet train. Seungmin wasn't even doing anything noteworthy—simply on the verge of dozing off during one of your many study sessions. But you found yourself focusing on little intricate details, such as the way he held the pen in a way that made him look like he was ready to write anytime in the next second despite his eyelids drooping oh-so-endearingly to the point that it warmed your heart (and face.)

Something about him that day was making you feel things you knew you shouldn't be feeling. And the mere knowledge of this terrified you, because how could you? If you couldn't even be known as his friend, how could you ever become his lover? And so you chose the most rational course of action.

To distance yourself from him.

Fine, maybe that wasn't the best decision you ever made. Especially not when the Kim Seungmin himself starts chasing you around school just to get you to talk to him. The whole deal greatly reminded you of your younger years, when it all started. And maybe that was why you folded once again, exactly like you did back then.

"Y/N, just talk to me," you remember his exhausted plea along the school's covered pathway, the one connected to the gym where the rest of your classmates were. Why was he even here? His class didn't have the same PE schedule as yours—if anything, you remember from the short conversation you had with Seungmin back at the start of the school year that they had math during this time (a detail you scolded yourself over, because why did you know that?)

His softening grip on your arm brought you back to reality, effectively making you turn and finally look at him. What you saw broke your heart entirely. Seungmin, the Kim Seungmin, campus crush, the main character of everyone's lives, was barely holding back his tears from escaping his glistening eyes, swirling with anxiousness and fear. "Did I do something wrong?" He asked in a fragile tone, his voice so small and soft it was practically a whisper—almost as if he were any louder, you'd fade away into the wind and leave him. "If I did, please tell me. I—I don't want to lose you," Seungmin choked out, the words feeling so heavy on his mouth. The same words he spent days dreading the implications of, nights he lost sleep over from the overwhelming emotion.

To you and everyone else who knew him, Kim Seungmin was a bright light. Yet, right now, only for your eyes—he was the dimmest he had ever been.

"No. There's nothing wrong," you lied through your teeth, tearing yourself apart inside for subjecting him to another kind of pain; one that he wasn't even aware of yet. All you had to do was cover it up with a white lie, "I was just—I was just being stupid. This thing... It was bothering me so much. So, I just wanted to be alone. That's all."

"I'm sorry," were the final words of your guilt-laced excuse. You didn't know how you even got through the whole thing. At this point, you don't even think you deserved to be called Seungmin's friend anymore. He trusted you, but you betrayed him with lies. Maybe the shadows really were the right place for you. A place where you could enjoy everything you desired, even in the midst of complete darkness.

These thoughts stayed as you relayed every single detail of your fully made-up concern to Seungmin after school.

Both of your lives returned to normal after that. Or at least, how normal it would be for you after the shocking revelation. You often found yourself worrying over almost everything, overthinking even the smallest of details. It certainly didn't help that Seungmin had been acting all weird lately—unconsciously avoiding your eyes when you spoke to him, and getting all fidgety when you two were alone. Maybe it was the weeks of silently doubting the validity of your friendship, or the dismay of feeling like he wanted to be anywhere else other than with you during your hangouts, that you finally burst out crying in front of him one day.

Seungmin was completely rattled, not expecting you to suddenly break down in his room while you two were watching a comedy movie. One would think that you were supposed to be laughing; that's because you actually should have been—not full on sobbing. Yet when he eventually got you to pour out everything you've been holding back, his mind went into static.

All he could say was that his thoughts greatly differed from yours.

This whole time, he believed that just like in kindergarten, you would have preferred him to stay away from you in school—wanting to attract as little attention as possible; something that was unavoidable if you were to be known as someone connected to him. So, for that reason, he kept his distance, opting to make up for the time you spent practically ignoring each other by walking you to and from school, treating you to small meals and snacks along the way, and hanging out whenever you both were free.

Don't get him wrong, though; his actions weren't just purely platonic. Seungmin had actually liked you since elementary school but decided to keep it to himself until you showed any signs of returning the sentiment. Admittedly, he first approached you with the aim of being friends for a petty reason. "Y/N doesn't seem to like you, Seungmin," he recalls as clearly as a bright day. The observation came from one of his classmates back in kindergarten, and as a child used to receiving only love, Seungmin was not about to accept not earning yours.

Yet, as time went on, he soon realized that you were the only one who actually stuck by him (aside from his family, of course.) Seungmin never wanted to admit it, but he grew quite attached to you—to the point that if someone asked him if he saw you in his future, he would one-hundred percent say yes without any hesitation at all.

You were a very precious person to him, and there was no denying it.

During elementary years, Seungmin's fondness turned into something more. He wasn't ignorant, even as a child; he knew well what crushes were and had no issue classifying you as his. At that time, though, just like any other kid, he didn't dwell too much on it—opting to enjoy growing up with you rather than bother himself with feelings that he believed didn't need to be complicated.

Seungmin's not-so-platonic emotions directed towards you were placed to the side, unmoving and silenced. It stayed there until high school—when they pushed their way back to the forefront of his mind, where there was no escaping it. The reason? Your decision to distance yourself from him.

In school was one thing, but for you to avoid him outside of it? Unheard of. There was only one time you two were separated for this long, and that was back before you even became friends. Seungmin was definitely suffering with each passing day, but he still chased you. Giving up was not a choice when you were probably hurting too. The thought pained him more than he wanted it to be.

Though the memory of him revealing his raw emotions to you in such a manner was sort of humiliating (but because it was you, he felt less judged); Seungmin didn't regret it one bit. Still, he found it hard to act normally after all that. Having his romantic feelings out in a place where he could barely contain them was more difficult than he thought. Every moment with you just felt so overwhelming—he had to restrain himself from smothering you in a tight hug and never letting you go.

But he didn't need to hide it anymore.

"You're worth more to me than you'll ever know," he says, cupping your face gently as you hiccup through muffled apologies, unable to stop the tears from streaming down your cheeks like waves. Seungmin placed a feathery kiss on your forehead, the unexpected feeling taking you out of your own spiraling thoughts of negativity to notice that his hands were trembling—along with his wavering voice. "I'm sorry too," he swallowed, sensing his emotions rising as a result of your sniffling. "I'll do my best to never let you feel that way again."

"So give us another chance, please."

mastertag 🏷️ :

@h0neydewmoon @starzzns @lhskokoro @bookishcalls

— let me know if you want to be added or removed^^

#starseungs-library #🗃️ — skzatchftl #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin imagines #seungmin imagines #kim seungmin #seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #skz angst #stray kids angst #seungmin angst

757 notes · View notes

mikhailwrites · 5 months

Text

Waiting for Connection 11 / Ghost x Soap NerdAU

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

I've ran out of pre-written stuff and need to write some more to connect things I already have, also it's Serpent's Coil's turn to occupy my time so I'll be taking a brief break from Waiting for Connection.

Previous chapter | AO3

Soap leaves the window open, the gushes of fresh air soothe him. But it’s November and this is Manchester. It’s cold as hell that freezed over. Soap takes a lungful while enjoying the warmth of the blanket. The smell of rain and cold mixes with something else. Earthy musk that makes him think of home. Not Glasgow; his childhood home. John buries his head in the blanket. The smell gets stronger.

Soap’s eyes close and he falls asleep soon after.

Simon stays awake till the early hours of the morning. The quilt is not very warm, luckily, Ghost had always run hot. And there’s also Stripey, curled up on Simon’s chest and providing extra warmth. The reason Simon is awake and staring at the ceiling is the man in his living room. Shortly after Simon’s discharge, he found living with such a degree of privacy hard. Sleep was difficult for a few months before his brain switched. It’s the exact opposite now. Falling asleep while someone else is in the flat makes him a little antsy.

Simon tries to calm down. Soap has been invited, and he is welcome to stay. Ghost is safe. He turns on his side, facing the half-open window. The cool breeze plays with the curtains. He watches the fabric dance long enough to feel his eyelids grow heavy and slowly close.

The morning comes with its blue-grey bleakness. Ghost slept only a few hours, and since the state of perpetual sleep deprivation, too, is long behind him, he feels like shit.

“Christ it’s freezing in here,” Simon exclaims the moment he sets foot outside the bedroom. Soap is still tucked in, the man pretty much created a den out of Ghost’s blanket. Simon can’t honestly tell head or tail.

He crosses the room, closing the window and turning back to Soap. “Rise and shine, soldier!” Ghost raises his voice to its old commanding tone and level.

The reaction is instant, just as he expected. Soap’s head emerges from the warm cocoon he’s made for himself. He’s all sleepy, mohawk sticking in all directions. He looks like a damn puppy. “Ah... guid mornin'... or... jist mornin', really. Whit's the time?”

Simon frowns as he tries to decipher John’s accent. “It’s oh-six-fifteen,” Ghost says as he goes to the kitchenette, putting the kettle on.

“Too early,” Soap moans, but he does get up. John yelps as his feet touch the freezing-cold floor.

“Should’ve closed the window,” Simon notes, not even concealing his amusement.

John’s gaze lingers on Simon’s face for a second too long, yet he doesn’t ask why the other man looks so haggard. Simon appreciates the sentiment. He takes out a box of cereals, two bowls, milk and spoons and places everything on the table.

“Thank you,” John smiles, still half asleep.

“Not a morning person, John?” he asks casually as he brews the tea and brings both cups to the table.

Soap sighs, running a hand through his messy mohawk. Styled, it looks good, but Ghost quickly decides he likes it more all dishevelled. “Not exactly.”

“You sure the military was the right choice for you?” Ghost smirks.

“I have my doubts,” Soap nods, digging into his cereals. “They keep telling me I’ll get used to it, but at this point, I don’t think it’s happening.”

“Some get used to it, some don’t, not that anyone really cares either way,” Simon shrugs.

“Aye,” John agrees, sipping on his tea and grimacing as he shakes his head. “Tea? Never could understand the British obsession with tea.”

“A good cuppa makes everything better,” Simon says like a memorised mantra.

“Now that is a load of crap,” John snorts, “don’t tell me ye actually believe it.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Either way, you don’t have much of a choice, unless you’d like to criticise my hospitality, that is.”

“British bastard,” Soap mutters quietly.

Simon raises an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“I said I’m very grateful,” John smiles in an exceptionally sweet manner.

“Of course you are,” Simon regards him with a knowing smile before checking the time. “We should get going.”

As soon as he says it, John’s smile falters. Simon’s itching to ask, but reins it in. If Soap wanted to tell him, he would.

They get to the station in time, of course, Ghost wouldn’t let John miss his train, even if man himself doesn’t seem to care much about it.

“It was real nice seeing you in person, Simon; maybe we could do this again sometime?” John says, looking up hopefully.

“I’d like that,” Ghost nods. It was nice. Real nice. Talking to someone like that, and in person. He feels slightly sorry that John has to go so soon.

John turns around to check the departures as something in the broadcast catches his attention. “Well, that’s my ride.”

“Safe travels, Johnny,” Ghost says and freezes. Soap pauses as well, looking at Ghost with a mixture of surprise and confusion. Ghost has no idea where the nickname came from. “Sorry.”

“No… no, it’s fine,” John smiles, even though he has no idea why it’s fine. He never liked that nickname; it always felt a tad too childish. Well, it doesn’t from Simon. “See you around, Si,” Soap smiles, waves and trots to his train before Simon even realises he’s just been given a nickname of his own. It’s only fair he supposes as he turns around and leaves the train station.

#Folks if you like the story I'd love to hear from you either here on AO3 don't be shy!#call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2

50 notes · View notes

yanderelucy2 · 1 year

Text

Tears of Themis ML when you can't sleep

How tenderly they treat you and how much they worry about your lack of sleep.

A/N: I am not a professional writer so there will be grammar mistakes and lines that don't make sense, this is in no way whatsoever canon and most likely won't fit the MLs' personalities well enough and I apologize for that. I also apologize for how short the stories are, but I have had no time lately... my relatives are also visiting.

f!reader

Artem Wing

When he finds you can't sleep he'd feel worried almost immediately. He knows better than anyone the feeling of exhaustion with no ability to sleep.

He thinks up multiple different methods but remembered the time you helped him fall asleep... remembering that he in his heart was hoping that his calming voice and presence would be enough.

He prepares some hot chamomile tea and adjusts your side of the bed for utmost comfort, he lays you almost on top of him and as you sip your tea he caresses your scalp talking to you in a soft low voice speaking on childhood stories.

Luke Pearce

He didn't really think the reason you were tired was lack of sleep, he assumed you've just worked really hard throughout the day. When he found that you often stay up late at night to work, he got slightly bothered at the fact he didn't figure it out sooner but immediately thought up some plans.

He already had his main method in mind, but he doubted himself not being sure if it'd work since it's from childhood and quite childish for an adult.

He grabs a weighted blanket and places it on top of you, not even sitting on the bed he simply sits on the floor holding your hand. The second he begins telling the nostalgic lullaby while making circles in your palm you can feel your eyes getting heavier. Eventually, he simply says "Close your eyes." and that's all you remember before you drifted to sleep.

Marius Von Hagen

He noticed very quickly, any minor change in your appearance or behavior sparks receptors in his brain to notice, he noticed the way you often would blink slower, the dark tint slowly seeping under your eyes.

He didn't exactly know what to do, so he searched online he read that relaxing would help, he read that but did quite the opposite... he didn't think relaxing would do much if you're struggling.

As he declared he was to be of assistance to you, he dragged you to the amusement park, and he made you walk everywhere and ride many rides. By the end of the night while you two were in the Ferris wheel he holds your hand as he notices you begin to drift off through force, your energy is officially depleted completely. He was proud he succeeded and immediately took you to sleep comfortably at home.

Vyn Ritcher

As a doctor, he noticed your symptoms since many of his patients suffer from insomnia, but as a lover he was overly concerned it flooded his mind from reason.

He begins to think up different things, he at first thinks of just prescribing you something but knows he can't do that you're not his patient. When he finally started thinking like a proper lover he decided to take you to the best restaurant he could find.

He decided to fill your stomach and allow you to cool down. Then serve hot tea and watch a calming slightly slow-paced boring movie, reducing the stimuli of the brain and dimming the lights. Allow for a comforting scene, the warmth from his body and the cold of the air, he eventually just whispered sweet nothings into your ear 'till you fell asleep, and to his surprise, it worked.

Sorry if this is not well written...

#artem wing #luke pearce #marius von hagen #mo yi #tears of themis #lu jinghe #xia yan #zuo ran #artem wing x reader #tot artem #luke pearce x reader #tot luke #marius x reader #tot marius #vyn richter #vyn ritcher x reader #tot vyn ritcher #tot vyn

232 notes · View notes

system-architect · 11 days

Text

The Price of Enlightenment

Wracked by nerves in the days before the scheduled date of her Ascension, Zojja receives a nighttime visitor.

content warnings: lots of talk about death + dying (including some parts describing corpses and some analogies to suicide), implied bad childhoods, nausea/people nearly (but not full-on) getting sick

author's note: wanted to write a fic that makes zojja's soto arc make.. more sense... and inspire more realistic doubts into her character about it. this fic contains some fanon-- namely, the idea that kudu and zojja both briefly apprenticed under snaff at the same time before kudu's departure. also, please note that this fic is explicitly not meant to read as shippy whatsoever despite any banter ✌️

The sun had long since crept below the skyline of the Archipelago, but Zojja found herself unable to attain solid rest– she seems to flicker in and out of sleep, sparse fragments of dreams flitting through her brain like fireflies rising from a field. She finds herself shaken between them, roused by a small sharp breeze flowing through her opened window, and would turn in bed, futilely trying to attain a comfortable pose despite her eyes seeming to be glued wide open.

The date of her ascension was drawing closer, and she had been absolutely adamant throughout the whole process– Yes, I want to do this. I really do want this. I know what it costs. Now that she was nearly at the peak, it felt as though the veil was beginning to fall from her confidence, and she felt half-formed doubts worming their way up through her body like nausea.

She flips herself over onto her back, fingers clutching at the sheets as her head sinks into her impossibly hard pillow. Her body felt heavy, so heavy, and achey. She lays there, staring at the ceiling, feeling every acute twinge of her soreness, when a shadowy presence creeps into her periphery from near the window.

“Zojja.”

Something within her ruptures– she knew that voice. It incenses her. She felt every muscle in her body spasm in a sort of shiver as she shoots half-upright, her face scrunching up and lips peeling back. She squints over in the direction of the figure.

“Kudu.”

The man was… posing in an uncharacteristically flamboyant manner, leaning up against the wall with one leg bent. He seems to have a wine glass in one hand, and just to the left next to him was… bizarrely, a cardboard cutout of Snaff, with features poorly drawn on in marker. Kudu appears as she remembers him– dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun, two little pinpricks of pale yellow glaring out at her from the shadows of his face.

“It’s somewhat incredible, you know, that you manage to make my name sound like a curse every time you utter it,” he swirls the wine in the glass. “I’d ask how you’re doing, dear, but I fear we both know that the answer is ‘terribly’.”

Kudu’s manner of talking set something berserk in her, like hearing claws on slate. Oooh she could not stand it. She had stopped taking it personally a long time ago– it had taken several run-ins with the man for her to understand his modus operandi. Once she did, it became apparent that the man simply dished out flamboyant little remarks like he exhaled carbon dioxide. Whether they helped manipulate or woo anyone was a near-unintentional byproduct. Still, something about him felt simply slimy, and thus every time he opened his mouth she felt like a bull seeing red.

“What is it you want, you little worm? Why are you here?” Her ears pin back as she squints over at him– taking the time to notice his shifting posture, which had spontaneously changed so that he was sort of draped against the wall. “...And why are you… like that?”

His brows raise as he taps the wine glass backwards against the cutout of Snaff. “I suppose, in a strange way, you could consider me as checking up on you at the behest of the old man here. Ah, but no, I suppose it’s more likely that I just still swim around in your head after all these years, yes? …And it’s not my fault that your brain has decided to render me as some sort of eccentric pervert.”

“That’s because you are an eccentric pervert.”

“You see?”

Zojja couldn’t help but let out a small, frustrated squawk. She feels the urge to grab her pillow so that she could scream into it, but stops herself so she doesn’t remind him how easy it is to get a rise out of her. She replaces the urge with a vision of her shoving the pillow down his throat in a cartoonesque manner. While she’s entertaining various other murder fantasies, she takes a second to study the facsimile of the man in front of her. It was definitely Kudu, but…

“What are you, anyway? A ghost? Some sort of kryptis trying to eat at me– or inspire doubt?! Hm?!” She punctuates her sentence with a triumphant humph, as if she surely had sussed him out.

“Oooh. Externalizing our locus of control already, are we? I’m certain you’d love it were I anything but the product of your… what was it now, fourth day of sleep deprivation?”

Her claws poke through the sheets and begin to pull at the mattress. Unfortunately, it was true. This wasn’t the first night she’d been in this predicament, it’s just that her stress dreams were usually bereft of morally bankrupt middle aged men.

Kudu’s pupils flick towards her stressed motion, weaving little light trails in the dark. The wine glass has mysteriously disappeared, and he folds his arms behind his back as he takes a small step towards her. “And… doubts? Who said anything about doubts? Aside from you, of course…”

“What?! No, I–”

He’s drawn closer. “What sort of doubts could you possibly harbor? Are they about your ascension, perhaps?”

“Th–”

Kudu wasn’t actually a particularly tall man, only having a couple of inches on her at most, but from his position next to her bed, he seems to tower over her. “What’s there to fear? Dagda seems fairly well-adjusted now. You trust her, don’t you?”

“Well– of course I do, but–”

“But?!” The man’s expression was like a jackal seeing a wounded gazelle, and he draws a claw up to pick at his chin. “...Mmm, actually, I suppose this is typical of you. The trust issues and whatnot.”

“What?!” She barks at him, face contorting as she bares her teeth. Her body feels incredibly heavy all of a sudden. “What do you– mean…”

Kudu peers down at her as if he were observing an experiment, stony faced. They both knew what he meant. He removes the claw from his chin, and waggles two fingers in a sort of walking motion across the air, as if miming people frolicking through a field of daisies.

“You haven’t reached back out to your little friends, have you? You know, the ones you still have, anyway.”

There’s a cascade of tiny popping sounds as Zojja’s claws fully puncture into the mattress. “Y– you’re in no position to talk, you don’t even have friends!”

He ignores her little jab, tilting his head to the side as he begins examining his cuticles. “Loathe as I am to compliment you, I have got to say, Zojja, I do somewhat admire your talent for burning out on people and treating them like chopped liver. Or, of course, simply getting them killed. Frankly, I understand it.”

“Understand?!” She spits venom. “I never– How dare you suggest– We are not–”

Alike? He splays out his fingers, waggling them one last time as he finishes studying his hand, before drawing it behind his back once again. He leans over Zojja just a little more, a halo of light from the window lining his silhouette.

“Another little thing that we both know, my dear.”

Zojja flinches, abruptly aware of the sensation gripping her entire being– she’s sinking almost painfully into the bed, as if there were iron weights piled upon her chest. Words are able to hiss past her teeth despite it.

“No way. You’re the only one to blame for your problems, you… you…” She can feel his eyes boring into her, the figment waiting with bated breath to hear which insult she chooses. “--poseur!!”

Kudu’s brows raise, and his jaws hangs open slightly. A little scoff escapes from his throat. “Poseur? Now that’s a nostalgic one.”

The room seems to flicker as scraps of memories waft through Zojja’s brain– a messy workroom table, three coffee cups nestled amongst the documents and tomes. Herbal tea in her’s. She had too young for caffeine; the old man insisted as much, anyway. The sounds of muffled conversation– debates, questions, revelations– swirled around her ears whenever she let sleep grip her on a late night, arms and crumpled velum pressed against her cheek in lieu of a comfy pillow.

A small spasm ripples down her body, jostling her out of her reverie. To her disdain, Kudu is still there, fixed in the exact same pose as he was before her eyes had closed. If they had closed, anyway– it was difficult to tell. The world felt like it was beginning to unravel and warp around her.

“Oh, good, I thought I lost you for a moment there. Where were we?”

You leaving.

“Ah, right. How we’re devastatingly incomparable people without a lick in common.”

Yeah. You said it. There’s nothing there. Just give it up. Stop thinking about it. A young man towered over her, a fresh undercut framed his ponytail, and a few stubborn pimples dotted his face. He shrouded himself in dark clothing and curled into himself when he moved, as if he might be able to shrink from existence, but his ego filled the room. Bitter, insatiable. She had been pulled from muck and fog and brought into a new world, she spat out sparks when she talked, her skull overflowed with ideas. She felt like she wanted to fly up to the sun. Tenacious, bull-headed. A thick layer of desperation to make something, be something under it all; they hitched themselves to the same star.

His voice toyed with her, sarcastic. “There’s a clear line between us, of course. I was simply born bad, and you, good. You have an unshakeable grip on everything you are and want. You’re infallible.”

Old arguments, coated in cobwebs in the recesses of her gray matter. She never understood where all the animosity came from. It wasn’t her fault that Snaff liked her iteration of the diaphase arcanic separator better. She couldn’t be blamed for being brilliant. He sat as far away from her as possible on the worktable bench; she’d slide closer and pester him on purpose. The way his weird puggy lips contorted when he was trying to stifle his upset was funny to her. He��d ‘fix’ her mystic diodes and leave them a smoking pile, she’d throw a tantrum. He’d look smug until he got reprimanded for it.

The edges of her thoughts melted together in the muggy heat of the eternal Maguuman summer. The smell of ozone and solder would hang heavy in the air for hours. Everyone got along best when occupied by some sort of project. There wasn’t a single inch of wall space in the lab that wasn’t plastered in sketches and blueprints of prototypes and small epiphanies. Snaff liked to hover behind them as they worked, arms folded behind his back. His presence always felt warm, not judgmental. She was glad she was here now, clean, a fresh start. She refused to ever go back, she wanted to do this– had to do this. Muffled voices across the lab kept her up at night. She knew she shouldn’t listen in, but she couldn’t resist. A voice of guidance and reason, and a voice that cracked, crushed under monumental pressure, always choked something back. You should really give him a chance. A concerned hand clapped on her shoulder. I’m trying to convince him of the same…

Arcs of lightning and smoldering fires set off a chain reaction of fights. It’s always your fault, not mine. When things don’t go my way I want to grit my teeth and scream through them and beat my fists against things. I just need this one little thing to work out. I feel so full of concepts and questions I feel like I’m going to burst, it hurts, I have a headache. Stop getting in my way. I can’t hold myself back when I get mad or excited. I love the thrill of the chase when I’m on the trail of an idea, a theory. Small game isn’t enough. I crave more. Every part of me feels sore and weary. I would never admit how much a deep part of me wants comfort. I miss Snaff. I miss Eir…

A hypnic jerk wracks Zojja’s body, the force knocking her bedframe into the wall with a clatter as she’s pulled back to reality once more. What passes for it, anyway. Kudu is still looming over her, and had leaned closer– she could see through his pupils, to the layer of yellow and green nightshine that stares back out at her from behind his retinas.

“A pity that there will be no one left to remember it all.”

Zojja’s ears pin back, pressing against the pillow entombing her head. Her voice picks up a desperate tone. “Wh– everyone loves Snaff! No one’s going to forget him! And you… you’re… infamous, you know–”

Kudu’s head tilts to the side, considering her like an owl watching a mouse. “Being a celebrity is one thing, but it’s all about the details. They’ll never know about Snaff’s sweet tooth. How I had to teach myself to stop biting my claws…”

Their mentor stuffed wrapped candies into every stray desk compartment and container like a skritt hoarding coins. He never seemed to mind if she pocketed them– she thought he’d tuck them into her console’s desk on purpose, actually. The other apprentice had cracked, bloodied cuticles when she first met him. Some sort of nervous habit. He’d pull an angry and embarrassed face if he caught himself doing it, as if anticipating being scolded.

The specter clasps his hands against his chest, digging into his ribcage with his nails. He doesn’t give her time to reply. “Those memories die with you, Zojja. I’m a dead man. You remember that, don’t you? You introduced me to my butcher. Snaff’s dead too, in case you already forgot…”

Zojja feels herself shiver. A painful memory, perfectly clear, worn in from how many times it had been on replay in her mind. A hand, wreathed in purple crystal, going limp. Dangling from her arms, or splaying out against the tile. Twitching with postmortem spasm. She senses a bit of sick climbing up her throat and tries to shake herself out of it, despite the amount of weight on her chest.

Kudu is relentless. A clawtip sinks into the center of her sternum, prodding her like a scalpel. She wants to writhe and scream, but she can’t. His lips peel back to reveal rows of violet teeth as he grins at her in a sadistic manner.

“That’s another thing we have in common, you know. The self-destruction. You just can’t stand it all, can you? You sink one little tooth into something you feel you want so badly, and the world just becomes a big blur…” He twists his finger around, burrowing the claw in deeper. “You should tell them to make your robes purple. Adorn them in stones. We’d all match.”

She finally manages to shake her body out of paralysis, squirming as she bucks his hand off. He withdraws back towards the window in one smooth motion, expression unchanging.

“Shut UP– I would never– I won’t forget–”

Kudu wraps his arms around what was the cutout of Snaff, which is now very real, very physical, very limp. The moonlight casts their skin in a clammy lilac hue, striped and stained with black stone and indigo crystal that splits open their hides like rot. Snaff is unmoving, devoid of life, propped up only by Kudu’s hand at his back. His head has rolled back; she can’t make out Snaff’s face anymore.

“You would– and you will.” His lips tug impossibly upwards, his eyelids crinkling at the bottom. “You don’t even have her twin anymore, do you?”

Zojja growls as he hunches one shoulder, indicating the silvery metal device strapped to his left arm, pressed in between himself and Snaff. “Of course– I– She’s just in storage–”

He pounces. “Storage?! Oh, oh, oh, Zohhh-jjaa, you may as well just throw it out! Even I hadn’t realized how much you had given up!”

“I haven’t given up– I’m just–”

Kudu grips onto Snaff’s body tighter, his claws starting to pierce through their mentor’s coat fronts, the sides of their cheeks pressing together as if he’s giving him some sort of painful embrace. “I carried on his legacy better than you. Did you know that? Have you ever thought of that? Doesn’t it burn? I was the one ripping open dragons’ brains, you abandoned us. And you don’t even care!”

She snarls through her teeth. “Worthless liar! I– I had the Pact, of course I care–”

He begins to lower Snaff out through the open window, dangling him precariously over the sill. Snaff remains limp, arm waving slightly in the night breeze. “You care?! You’re throwing us out. Rendering us down to useless garbage!”

Her body just barely pries itself upwards. “I’m NOT– I might still remember– I just, I have to do this for–”

Kudu lets Snaff slip from his grasp even more, and his own body begins to tilt towards the window, as if pulled by the other man’s weight. “I’ve told you enlightenment always comes at a price, dear! I suppose I can’t judge you! I did the same!”

Zojja can barely choke out anything through the tears forming on her face before he continues. They both look like they’re about to topple out, off the edge of the precipice. “Since you want to destroy everything so badly, just bite the bullet! Let them rip you apart! Let’s die together, Zojja!”

She rockets upwards, her throat instantly rendered hoarse by the scream that flies out of her mouth. “SHUT UP! STOP IT! SHUT UP!”

She’s met with silence. Blinking hard, she does a double take at the window. No Kudu, no Snaff. The wind whistling through the opening rattles the frame quietly, and stings at her brow with an icy feeling. She hadn’t realized she was coated in sweat until now.

It takes only a few brief seconds for the sound of running echoing down the hallway to burst forth into her room– a panicked Dagda, who throws her door open hard enough to make the metal of the handle emit a sickening crunch as it hits the wall. The jotun seems just as sweaty as Zojja is, wide-eyed and bewildered.

“Zojja–! What’s wrong?! Are you hurt?! Are we being attacked?!--”

She slows down a bit as she scans the room, before finally setting her gaze on Zojja– the only person there. Zojja’s ears twist back as she tries to gain something resembling composure. She turns to look back out the window again.

The horizon shifts outside, a deep navy tint beginning to break up the dark. High in the sky, the stars still hang overhead. She stares tiredly at a particularly bright one as it shimmers. A binary star, flickering rapidly between red and blue as its twin stars rotate around one another. As she watches it, her hand crawls up to feel at her chest, which is unscathed, unwounded.

Finally, she turns back to Dadga, forcing a small chuckle. “N– Nothing. Just… dealing with some demons.”

It takes her a moment to notice Dadga’s widening eyes and the panic not leaving the woman’s face. The asura panics for a moment in turn, waving her hands dismissively.

“Not– not literal!”

23 notes · View notes

therealmofadisneyfangirl · 3 months

Text

Kim Possible

Tick-Tick-Tick Episode #1

Hi! My name is Deanna Winchester mulitfandom (more then one fandom) blogger I decided to

create my very first blog post review of Disney’s Kim Possible.

My author block delayed this long running pop culture review.

This is actually the first episode to ever aired but of course it aired out of order on the Disney Channel.

It first aired on the Disney channel USA on June 14, 2002. Toon Disney premiere: April 11, 2005.

Kim Possible was and is my childhood show it amazing to review all episodes. This is a fun rewatch that I actually enjoyed.

Kim Possible is one of my favorite Disney animated character, it exciting to watch this show and revisit it.

I rewatch this show i never thought though to do an episode review. This is a good idea this is also my comforting show when adulting goes too far.

The episode Disney plus synopsis is I insert a screenshot down below

We first introduced to Kim Possible our heroine, the main character but also a spy.

She also has normal life as a high schooler but has no alter ego. She is a cheerleader.

She describes as she can do anything!

Anyway let begin the first episode!

The episode start with Kim Possible anxiously being late as she rush past several people as she went to her locker as she waiting for her assignment to be printed. She is anxiously like come on print please.

Only you think it her assignment to her confusion no it just her best friend Ron Stoppable printing cheat codes for a video game. Kim rightfully so is overwhelmed she has 30 seconds to print her History assignment she is annoyed by Ron. Ron was a comedian in this episode. Ron was so entertaining.

Course as the real paper was about to print there is a paper jam, Ron is nothing to fear Rufus. The viewers are like who the hell is Rufus, it turned out Rufus is Ron’s pet naked mole rat. Kim had doubts until Rufus did his magic, the paper was saved. Yay! Kim is excited and happy that her paper is saved.

Until Kim’s luck was put to test. Kim is stressed and is under lot of pressure she can’t afford to be late.

Unfortunately she rush into the school grumpy staff member Mr Barkin.

It turned out revealed by the audience Kim has been not late for third time she is also on this guy bad side a recipe for disaster. Kim much to her dismay, is ordered detention.

Cut to the badass theme song opening. Christina is such a good singer.

Meanwhile at Possible house we are introduced to Kim family. Her younger mischievous geniuses twin brothers Jim and Tim are introduced her parents are introduced Kim herself revealed the facts her parents are brain surgeon and rocket scientist. Kim told her parents the truth she is not happy she got detention what she is good at. Kim you are good at being a spy badass!

One of her catchphrase no big was introduced

We are introduced to the first time of Wade and the communicator.

Wade assign her to her mission in South America much to her parents dissatisfaction however she gave her puppy dog eyes which be a running gag for the series

She can go yay!

New details are revealed the villain characters Shego all in the first episode.

Kim is not aware who she is yet like who is that she is good.

Kim and Ron visit the professor lab I assume it was emergency. 🚨

Kim ask what was stolen even the professor does not know

Something is fishy. Kim and Ron will solve it. Kim suddenly has an idea she saw on the footage of Shego stealing the device.

The device project is revealed to be the Tick. Course Ron screamed it brought back bad case of summer camp memories which you believe it or not will be foreshadowing for later Season one episode.

That camp and Ron are connected my dear readers. Camp Wannaweep and Ron are sinisterly connected.

The tick was not alive according to the professor it was a digital blue print it was a cyber genetic Tick will be in comparison to the real thing. The professor created a robotic tick. Ron ask why

Professor say he have lot on his time fair enough.

Who will need a robot tick? The key to your question Kim is your arch nemesis villain DR. Drakken

Cut to his evil lair

Shego fell from a trap door. Cut to Shego and Drakken dialogue which is the best banter ever.

Kim say she has wrap up the conversation soon due to detention. Wade keep teasing her until Kim say to Wade can we continue the mission. Wade was like okay.

Then Wade revealed more information about Shego to Kim i forgot to add

Drakken is furious that he reveal his evil plan to Shego to build a robotic tick.

Course Kim was interrupt by Barkin. Kim found herself in detention shenanigan ensures.

Funniest moment in this episode the clock is messed up, Kim had good dialogue herself.

Course leads Rufus to the rescue who causes a distraction. Kim managed to escaped.

She thanks Ron for rescuing her with the best plan out letting Rufus out! Course he gave credit to Rufus who was the hero,

Wade access more information about Drakken and Shego that lair is in the Caribbean. Wade say myth say the island is haunted. Much to poor Rufus who hide in the soda cup. Ron was excited about new gadgets. Ron get blasted by the gadget that disguise as lipstick for being nosy. Rightfully so.

Banter between Kim and Ron, Ron is now scared of spy gadget. Kim assures him it just regular makeup

Cut to Drakken lair. Shego shouts intruder alert course Drakken is in his own world.

Kim and Ron get captured course Drakken heard of the teen heroine Kim Possible,

Not Ron. Poor Ron. Chum is friend it least they know you and Kim are team Ron. Course Kim literally does not know who these guys are. Now it started to rang a bell. Kim say you something that does not belong to you

Course cut to Kim and Ron threatened by villains threats to be shark food. Course Ron is a comic relief he has good one liners. Kim saved the day and use the spy gadget on the shark. Kim escaped much to the villains dismay.

Shego does not know what nano technology is.

Course Shego found out they escaped cut to her and Kim fight sequence, Kim saved the day by using her spy tech the lair exploded, she and Ron jump. Mission Impossible vibes. Kim is in her cheerleading uniform. Once again Kim speak to the professor, the professor thank her. She say no problem course Barkin is not stupid another round of detention. Kim is not pleased. The nano tick somehow appeared on Kim nose. Kim escaped because it emergency

Course Drakken is on her trail, Barkin is on her trail. They leave on Ron’s scooter who is not fast. It chaotic sequence. Kim saved Barkin because Drakken is trying to get her with this evil genius ray. It a mess.

They end up at Bueno nacho. Kim has the best sarcastic dialogue at Ron who is focused on food.

Ron plus food who is shocked. Course Drakken and Shego argued like a married couple.

Course Shego and Kim have their first real fight, Wade trying to get nano robot off Kim.

Kim got the upper hand Shego end up on Barkin.

Stakes are high. It intense. Kim nose will blown. Wade is problem solving except Ron has an idea. Diablo sauce he put on Kim nose which finally is off her nose. She threw tick at Drakken device which go Boom!

Which lead to Drakken iconic villain phrase quote. The police capture Drakken and unconscious Shego long story got knocked out by Kim detention associates.

Kim is back at detention which lead to most iconic moments tough but fair call back from early scene go.

Funny moment assures , Kim is getting her detention associates now friends a manicure and Barkin get outnumber. Ron say Kim factor is not a rule for detention. The episode end cut to iconic end credits of the closingcredits.

The episode was really fun I enjoy it i rate it 10 out of 10.

💯💯💯

The cartoon Kim Possible rules!

Seen you all next time for episode two review.

Enjoy! I hope you all have a great afternoon.

youtube

#kim possible #2000’s disney life #disney plus #kim possible (character)#disney blog #ron stoppable #disney #tumblr #blogger #episodes order #episodes review

34 notes · View notes