#have you ever looked up pictures of raccoons in the dark

[mydemimonde]

'Cherry Bomb' | Michael Gavey x Reader (Part 1)

a/n: this will have two parts, most likely! english is not my first language and i have no idea how oxford university works lol i just googled some things, also i suck at maths so any explanation here is just me googling shit. no beta reader. hope you enjoy!

Summary: You wake up with a pounding headache, the worst hangover you ever had. You don't even remember how you managed to get to your dorm, until you see a small note on your bedside table, signed by... Michael Gavey.

Words: 4490

Warnings: +18 (minors do not interact!), female reader, no use of y/n, not specific physical description, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, fingering, loss of virginity, masturbation (and more to come in the second part)

You wake up on a Saturday morning with a pounding headache, your mascara all smudged under your eyes. The sunlight coming from the blinds makes you squint your eyes. You bring a hand to your forehead, sighing. This was the worst hangover you had in a while.

The sound of the door opening and a sudden gasp make you groan and close your eyes shut.

“Oh, here you are!” a particularly high-pitched voice says, making your headache even worse.

“Fuck, Leigh” your voice comes out as croaky and hoarse. “Lower your voice” you ask as she mutters a ‘sorry’ and closes the door carefully. You manage to sit, your back resting against the headboard as Leigh approaches you.

“Next time, be sure to drink water as well. Too many tequilas and shots do this to you” it’s like she’s scolding you, which is fair because she’s two years older than you, she’s like your sister sometimes.

You rub your eyes, smearing more mascara and making you look like a raccoon. On the corner of your eye you notice a glass full of water and some aspirins. You frown.

“How did you get that so fast?” It’s Leigh’s turn to look at you completely puzzled. You point to the glass next to you.

“Uhm, it wasn’t me” she chuckles as you take some aspirins in your hand and drown them with water. Your brows lift in surprise and confusion, your eyes glancing towards a small note next to your lamp. You grab it and read the message in a rushed handwriting.

“What the fuck was Michael Gavey doing in my dorm?” you nearly scream with wide eyes as Leigh takes the note from your hands to read it. She throws her head back and cackles.

“Michael Gavey brought you here last night. You don’t remember?” she looks at your dumbfounded expression trying not to laugh again. “Jeez, you were so drunk you don’t even remember what happened…” she mutters and sits cross-legged in front of you. “Last night at the pub, we were chatting with Felix and his group and you wanted to go to the loo, so you left but on your way you bumped into Bradley and Sam” she wiggles her brows and you scoff.

You dated Bradley during half the second term, then you dated his friend Sam for a brief period of two weeks. You found them too boring, so you rejected any other advance on their part ever since.

“Anyways, I couldn’t see much but I think something nasty happened, because on the other side of the pub was Michael fucking Gavey looking at you. Babe, he was fuming” her lips curve into a devilish smile. “He strode towards you and grabbed your arm, telling them to fuck off. Which they surprisingly did, which is odd because, well… you know… he’s a scrawny awkward nerd and Bradley and Sam are pretty much tall like beasts” she shakes her head while you’re still confused, trying so hard to remember what happened. 

“Why the hell would he even approach me? He hates me” your brows lift and she places a manicured hand on your knee.

“Hmm, maybe they were annoying you. It seems Michael’s your knight in shining armour. I think it was hot, wet my panties a little bit not gonna lie” she sighs and fans her face with her hand, pretending to melt.

Now it is your turn to cackle. “You’ve always said you pictured him like one of those guys who compulsively jerks off to hentai every night in the dark of his room.” You look at her with a knowing look, pouting your lips.

Leigh shrugs. “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I like nerds like Michael Gavey now. He looked really good with that shirt” she narrows her eyes and twirls her hair, making you laugh again. She grins and looks at you. “You should talk to him. Ask him what happened, and then you might want to thank him…” she wiggles her eyebrows and you roll your eyes, she slaps your shoulder in response. “You know you want to! I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, and a guy like him will never resist a bomb like you. Who knows, maybe he’s jerking off to the thought of you…”

“Leigh!” you slap her leg and she jumps. You shake your head. “Babe, she hates me. I know it. I’m pretty sure he’s part of that group of guys that slut-shames me in the hallways” Leigh presses her lips, knowing you might be right. Might.

Still, you want to know what really happened last night, so you sigh and get out of bed, Leigh following your movements in the dimly lit dorm. “I’ll take a shower and think about how to talk to him, ask him what happened” your friend gets on her stomach on your bed, her feet up and her chin resting on her palm as you grab your towel, feeling the headache go away, but your empty stomach grumbled.

“Mind if I take a nap here? Kev fucked my brains out last night and I don’t feel like going to my dorm” she sounded quite tired, and you hum in response. She groans as she gets into the covers and you enter the small bathroom, closing the door slowly and undressing to get into the warm shower, letting the water fall all over your body. You close your eyes enjoying the feeling, and you start wondering how to talk to Michael.

You never saw him anywhere else rather than in the great hall of college, as he spent most of the time in the library. Besides, you know deep in your gut he hates you. Every time you walk into the library, he leaves, avoiding looking at you.

One time, you tried to talk to him. It was the beginning of the academic year, you were dating a history student named David, and you saw Michael all alone during lunch, too focused on his books and his crunchies. Feeling bad for him, you grabbed your purse and walked towards him, a smile across your face.

“Hi there” you introduce yourself, extending your hand. He looks up from his book, looking at you with a frown, sneering. He looks at your hand and then back at you. Awkwardly, you move that hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing your lips. “What’s your name?”

“Michael Gavey” he says sharply, clearly annoyed. You stand there, feeling heat creeping on your cheeks as he turns his attention to his book. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so you leave, returning to your friends.

That was the first and last time you tried to talk to him, but he refused. You didn’t know why, but you assumed it was because of your reputation there. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your sexuality, and it’s definitely not your fault that most of the guys are horny douchebags who aren’t capable of being in a serious relationship. Plus, they’re too shallow for you, and you get bored easily. You don’t want them to get too attached.

But Michael’s different. He avoids interacting with people when he can, he doesn’t do parties -maybe you saw him once or twice at Felix’s-, he’s very vocal about what he thinks about popular people: he hates them. Vapid cunts, you heard him mutter once. And that’s why you feel attracted to him.

He’s nothing like Bradley, Sam or David. Or Luke. Or Peter. Or even Felix.

You finish showering and drying off your hair, Leigh sleeping soundly on your bed. You are careful not to make any loud noise as you try to dress. You put on a lace tank top and a pair of jeans, your favourite flats and the note he left on your bedside table and head out to the library, hoping to find him.

Bingo. You see Michael sitting on the other side of the library, fully immersed in his studies. Your flats make the slightest of noises against the floor, you feel your heartbeat get faster as you approach him. You pull the chair in front of him and take a seat, leaning over as you smile and say hi. Michael looks up and nearly chokes at the sight of your tits nearly spilling from your top.

“H-hi” he simply responds in a low voice. He clears his throat and frowns. “Why are you here?”

Ouch. Rude. “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” Silly old me?

“Yes, dummy. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life, and I found this on my bedside table.” You hand him the small note he left. Drink these with water. Hope you feel better. Michael Gavey. He presses his lips and nods, acknowledging the note he wrote.

“You were pretty hammered” he chuckles and you smile, showing your perfect teeth.

“I was. I can’t remember a thing, Michael. Would you help me to fill in the blanks?” you ask sweetly and bat your lashes at him, making him squirm. Michael Gavey squirms.

“Sure, uhm…” he puts the book aside, scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat once again. “You were heading towards the toilet at the pub and I heard you laugh when you bumped into those assholes” he sneers, remembering the events from last night. “The blonde one landed a hand on your ass and you tried to pull him away. You were clearly uncomfortable so just told them to fuck off” he shrugs.

Your heart flutters, he sounds so honest and worried about you. You extend your hand to place it on top of his, and he meets your eyes. “Thank you.”

He nods, looking at your hands. He slithers them away, making you frown. “No worries. Next time though, try not to throw up on my sneakers” your eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh fuck, did I do that?” He nods trying to hide a smirk. You cover your face with your hands, mortified. “Shit, I’m so sorry!” You move your hands away from your flushed face when you hear him chuckle.

“You had too many drinks, you could barely stand on your feet” he reassures you, his sudden kindness taking you by surprise. “I left you in your dorm and just when I was about to leave, you said you felt like throwing up, but you didn’t make it to the toilet and threw up on my sneakers. I washed the stain off the floor and helped you get off your shoes to lie down. I see you took the aspirins I left there.”

“I did, thank you again.” You don’t know how to thank him properly, so you start thinking. You take a moment to study his features. The glasses he wears frame his face and hide his blue eyes. His aquiline nose —oh God, his aquiline nose—, the pronounced cupid bow of his lips, his sharp jaw. You feel the need to run your fingers through his tousled blonde hair. You press your legs together. “How can I thank you?”

“No, it’s ok. No worries” he makes a gesture with his hands and sighs. “Uhm, I really need to study, so…” he trails off, subtly telling you to leave. You blink and nod, standing up.

“Sure, ok, I’ll leave you to it…” you accommodate the chair back and wave at him. “See you around?” He just nods and opens his book again. As you leave, a great idea crosses your mind, but before you open your mouth a pack of students enter the library. You curse internally and leave.

9:15 AM.

You fix your hair in the mirror, brushing it before going to the calculus lecture. You’re not studying anything related to maths actually, you’re a psychology student and according to the university program you can take a course to complement your studies, so you chose that one.

As you walk down the corridors, you see Michael carrying his notebook and entering the classroom. Your lips curve into a smile and speed up the pace to catch up.

“Michael!” You call him as you finally reach him. You swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, and you follow him as more students fill the room. He smiles at you with pressed lips, greeting you back.

“I didn’t know you were taking calculus” he sounds genuinely surprised. You decide to take a seat next to him, placing your bag on the floor as he opens his notebook and clicks his pen, everything ready to take notes.

“Yeah, I have to take an optional course to complement my studies” you lean down, giving him a clear view of your cleavage as you reach for your notebook and pencil case. You hear him gulp.

“How… dedicated” he replies, to which you smile, taking the end of your pencil in between your teeth.

Michael looks away, his eyes focusing on the board as the professor greets everyone and starts writing.

Half an hour later the lecture comes to an end. You sigh in relief, your brain has melted from all the numbers and formulas the professor explained. Honestly, you paid more attention to Michael’s large hands and long fingers gripping his pen as he took notes, thinking about how they would feel on your body.

You watch as he stands up quickly, nodding at you as a way to say goodbye. “See ya”

“Michael, wait!” You quickly put your notebook into your bag and rush after him. “Shall we study together? We can do the assignment due by next week together” you offer him your signature smile, tilting your head and thinking he wouldn’t say no. Most guys melted when you smiled at them like that.

However, your confidence vanishes when he grimaces and scratches his neck. “Actually, I… I don’t study in groups. Doesn’t work for me”.

Why are you surprised, it is obvious. You always see him alone in the libraries. You curse yourself internally. “Oh, well…”

“I’m sure you will do great though, you seem like a clever girl” the praise coming from his lips make you silently gasp.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Just as he’s about to leave, an idea pops in your head. “Actually, Michael… I’m struggling with this subject.”

Lies. You aren’t a genius like he is, but you can manage. You don’t like maths but you don’t suck at it either, you do good. Enough to pass the subject.

“I was wondering if you could help me” you do your best to sound helpless, knitting your brows and all. “Everyone says you’re a fucking genius, please, Mike?” He swallows hard at the way you practically beg him for help, placing a hand on his elbow.

He doubts only for a few seconds before agreeing. “Ok. I will help you” he yelps as you wrap your arms around him, your tits flash against his chest making him dizzy.

“Oh, thank you Michael!” you pull back, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you smile. “Can we start today? I would tell you to come to my dorm, but my friend Leigh is currently staying there because they found a rat clogging her toilet.” Another big lie.

Michael just nods, he doesn’t really have too many options. “Fine. Uhm, my dorm is on the second floor, 219. I’ll be there at 4pm, bring your notes and a calculator.”

You playfully salute him, like a good soldier. “Yes, Sir” he chuckles softly and shakes his head, turning on his heels to leave.

You can barely contain your joy as you walk towards your dorm, almost singing.

3:40 PM.

You try on different outfits, grunting when you look at yourself in the mirror for the fifth time. You don’t like any fit, and you continue rummaging through the pile of clothes on your bed. You lift your brow as a red fabric catches your attention. It’s the mini skirt Leigh gave you a few weeks ago. You quickly put it on and look at yourself in the mirror once again, happy with the result. Your white baby tee with ‘cherry bomb’ in red letters written on it makes the perfect match.

You grab your notebook and head towards his dorm.

“Coming” you hear Michael’s voice behind the door. He will surely be coming today. He opens the door, breath hitching at the sight of you in that top, your nipples peeking through the fabric. Suddenly he feels his pants are too tight. “Please, come in” he gives you enough space to enter his dorm, which you do. As you walk past him the smell of your perfume fills his nostrils. Fuck.

You smile at him and as he closes the door behind you, you look around the room. It was just what you expected. Everything was perfectly neat, books organised in two bookshelves, more textbooks and notes scattered over the white desk.

“Take a seat over there” he points at the bed, and you gladly do it. “Do you want something to drink? Eat? I have some crunchies.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” You flash him a sweet smile as you open your bag, looking for your notes and your pen.

Michael sits next to you, keeping a safe distance of course, but close enough you can hear his hard breathing. “Ok, we can start with the basics, and then I’ll help you with the exercises, sounds good?” When you nod, he continues. “Cool. So, think of limits as a way to understand what happens to a function as it gets closer and closer to a certain point without actually reaching it.”

“That sounds paradoxical” you cut him off, and he suppresses a smile.

“It does seem counterintuitive, but it's about observing the behaviour of a function as it gets infinitely close to a specific value.” He continues explaining, and you pay attention to every word that comes out from those beautiful lips.

Michael’s brows lift in surprise as you finish another task quickly, and he’s even more surprised when he checks it and there are no mistakes. He didn’t find any mistakes in the previous 5 exercises he provided for you either. You just look up at him, waiting for his correction.

He looks back at you. “You did perfectly well. Again.” You squeak and he takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get it. Most students get the first ten exercises horribly wrong, but you solved all of them perfectly. H-how?”

You lean back on your arms, legs crossed. You tilt your head. “Maybe I’m just a quick study, learning from the best” you start moving your feet up his leg, slowly and carefully. He shakes his head as he puts on his glasses again, sighing.

“No. You’re just wasting my time.”

“What?” It’s actually the truth. You are wasting his time, you weren’t having any issues with the subject, you just wanted an excuse. “Ok, yes, I admit it” you lift your hands in defeat, and he curses.

“Why the fuck would you ask for my help if you don’t need it? Fuck, I have many important things to do and you’re here bothering me, leave please.”

You get on your feet quickly as he’s about to turn the doorknob, and you stop him. “No, Michael, please hear me out.” He glares at you, nostrils flaring as you take his wrist and guide him towards his bed, making him sit on the edge. He looks confused, you sit next to him, your knees touching.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you for what you did the other day. For being my knight in shining armour.” He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by placing your index finger there. “No, listen. I know it’s not a big deal for you, but it is for me. Michael, I want you.”

Michael’s eyes widen at your confession. “W-what?”

There’s no way you wanted him. You, out of all the people on the campus. Slowly, you lean in, wetting your lips with your tongue to press them against his mouth. You give him a soft peck before truly kissing him, your hands finding their way towards his tense shoulders. He doesn’t respond yet, but when you bite gently on his lower lip he whimpers, he fucking whimpers, and moves his lips against yours, trying to follow your rhythm. Your lips taste like cherries, and he loves it.

Kissing him feels good. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, feeling how he squirmed under your touch and kisses. You wonder how he would react when you have his cock in your mouth.

You slither your tongue inside his mouth, exploring it as he gets more excited, his hands finally touching you, placed on either side of your waist.

You pull back to catch your breath and he chases your lips. You giggle. “Easy there, lover boy. We have plenty of time.”

“Fuck, I- I… I’ve never done this” you frown, and he sighs. “I’ve never kissed anyone. Ever. That felt really good” he chuckles, and you smile.

“You liked it?” He just nods, and you start placing open mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his neck until you reach his ear and whisper. “Wait until I put my mouth on your cock.”

Michael gulps. “W-what?”

“You think I came here just because I wanted to kiss you? No, Michael” his eyes follow your movements, how you rise from his bed to kneel in front of him, hands undoing his jeans, looking for any sign of discomfort. When you find none, you continue, pulling down his jeans and boxers down to his knees, freeing his cock. “I came here because I really, really want this” you purr and lower your gaze to his weeping length, your cunt clenching around nothing already.

Michael’s big. At least, bigger than the ones you had. Curved upward with a protruding vein on the side. You bite your lip as you start stroking him, Michael closes his eyes shut and whimpers. You never heard someone whimper so beautifully. You study every reaction, every microexpression as you continue stroking him at a tantalising pace, as if you are torturing him.

“P-please…” he begs through bated breath, moving his hips as he tries to get some friction, anything.

“You look so beautiful begging, Michael. You’re making me so wet, baby” he cries out your name again, and you smirk. “Michael, open your eyes” you demand, and he does so, breath catching in his throat as he finds you there on your knees, looking at him like you were his predator. It was so fucking sexy.

“I want you to watch as I suck your cock. And you better last more than five minutes. I want you to enjoy it” he nods and swallows hard as you lick your lips before taking him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck” he curses, gripping the sheets beneath him until his knuckles are white. You lick the vein, going from the base upwards, and you hear him sigh. You lick him like you lick a lollipop, and then you take him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as your right hand works its way around the base. He’s so big he doesn’t fit completely into your mouth.

You hum around his cock, your eyes closing as you bob your head up and down his shaft, making Michael squirm. He doesn’t know what to do, he just keeps looking at you, unable to tear his gaze from you.

The soft moans that escape his lips, the way he whimpers your name and bucks his hips ever so slightly, careful not to hurt you but eager to get more are enough to make you wet. Hell, you are sure your panties are soaked by now, leaking through the fabric.

His eyes widen as he catches the movement of your left hand that was on his inner thigh going in between your legs, under the skirt. Were you touching yourself?

You bob your head faster and moan around his cock as you tease your wet folds with your fingers. You push two fingers inside your pussy, the room filling with the most obscene sounds you ever heard.

“Are you… are you touching y-yourself?” asks Michael in a strangled moan, watching you intently. You release his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, your saliva coating it.

“Of course I am, Michael. I’m fucking wet. Here” you take off your fingers from your pussy to grab his hand, and guide it towards your entrance.

Michael almost passes out. You are, in fact, dripping wet on his fingers. You let him touch you for a moment, grinding your hips against his hand, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit so deliciously. “S-shit, Michael” you bite your lip and he grins, happy to earn that reaction from you. You feel him twitch in your hand, the tell tale sign that he was very close to cumming. You remove your hands from your cunt and he frowns.

“Did-did I hurt you?”

“No, baby. But tonight’s about you, ok? I can teach you how to eat my pussy later, yeah? Right now, I want you to cum in my mouth. Whenever you’re ready” you wink at him and he chokes on a sob as you take him into your mouth again, slowly until you feel him in the back of your throat. Some tears well up in your eyes, you moan around his cock and that pushes him.

He bucks his hips and shoots his load deep down your throat, you look at him through your lashes and see how hard he grips the sheets, his chest heaving as he moans your name. He stays still for a while, panting as you swallow his salty cum, wiping the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Holy fuck” he mutters, still trying to catch his breath. You get on your feet and plant a kiss on his lips, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “Now… shall I… well, uhm” he’s unsure about what to ask.

“Eat my pussy?” you finish for him and he nods eagerly, you giggle. “Another day, baby.”

“But you… you were touching yourself and didn’t get to cum, right? I have to return the favour—”

“No, Michael. Don’t worry” you reassure him with a kind smile, stroking his cheek. You lean in to kiss him again, and then, you whisper in his ear: “I’ll just finger myself until I cum in my bedroom to the thought of you.”

You smirk as he looks at you with his jaw dropped. You blow him a kiss, open the door and leave.

let me know what you think! and if you'd like to be tagged as well 🫶🏻

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn #saltburn movie #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell fic #mydemimondewrites

[idyllicwillowtree]

Smitten Kittens

Genre: Eddie Munson x fem!reader; fluff

Summary: Eddie helps out a very special cat who turns out to be yours. 

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings: light drug-use, swearing, illusions to bad parental relationships/toxic parents, reader is called ‘Ms. Y/L/N’ at one point, Eddie-centric, Eddie being a crazy cat lady

Author’s note: Loosely based off of me and my cat <3 ; pictures found on pinterest

Main Masterlist

_______________________________________________

4:37. Every morning Eddie’s body wakes him up at 4:37 and no matter how long he lays in bed or how late he stays up he can’t go back to sleep. He could have his eyes closed, unmoving for hours and still his mind would not allow him anymore rest. 

That’s where his little friend Mary-Jane comes in handy.

His uncle, Wayne, is usually still at work at this time so Eddie doesn’t bother being gentle as he swung the front door open, a joint dangling from his chapped lips and a couple cans of tuna in his hand. 

Stepping out of his muggy trailer, he took a deep breath of fresh morning air as goosebumps emerged on his skin. In preparation for the sun to rise, the night sky became a dark blue mixing with the yellow street lamps, light enough for Eddie not to use a flashlight. He plopped himself down on his front steps, his sock covered feet avoiding the dewy grass below by setting them on the last wooden step.

He lit up his joint, taking a deep inhale and enjoying a short moment alone before gently tapping the tuna can with his lighter.

“Purrrrow?”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie clutched his chest before turning towards the noise, “Oh, there you are Ozzy.”

When Eddie started using weed to help him sleep in the middle of the night he slowly made some new furry friends. Once he set a precedent that the stray cats could come to him for a snack, he became the unofficial cat-guy of the trailer park. 

Something about taking care of the mangy little beasts of the neighborhood made him feel important. Knowing there were four starving cats out there that turned to him for comfort filled him with a sense of purpose. Something he doesn’t always get with the people in his life.

As he starts filling the large dog dish he leaves outside with the fishy treat, the rest of his cat gang arrives, greeting him with quiet chirps, excited purring, and vertical tails. 

Ozzy was the leader, a short-haired tabby that was pure muscle. He usually sported an intimidating glare as he watched over the other cats, keeping them protected and in line. His right-pawed man was a skinny gray cat Eddie named Dio. He was the only one who let Eddie hold him, never clawing to get away, but still preferring to keep all four paws on land. Then there was Dungeon and Dragon, two orange cats attached at the hip and always getting into trouble. Dungeon was very talkative while Dragon was the most affectionate. 

Eddie continued smoking his joint, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of the eating cats. He listened as their loud smacking and happy purrs echoed in the dish.

Ozzy abruptly stopped eating, eyes zeroed in on something under Eddie’s trailer porch to his right. The cat’s back immediately puffed, fur standing up on its own. He let out an aggressive hiss followed by a yowl that sent a chill down Eddie’s spine. The rest of the cats perked up in curiosity. 

“Please don’t be a raccoon,” Eddie mumbled to himself as he leaned over to get a better look.

Suddenly, a tentative black paw emerged from the shadow of the porch. The most beautiful cat Eddie had ever seen revealed herself, delicately sniffing at the fishy morning air.

Ozzy was not about to share his food with this new cat, making it known through his loud yowling that Dio soon joined in on. Dungeon and Dragon’s ears were pulled back, hissing at the new arrival.

Eddie watched as the cat timidly backed up under the porch again, not wanting any trouble but still eyeing their leftover tuna. 

“Alright guys, that’s enough,” Eddie began gently shooing the clowder of cats away. They all snapped out of it and scampered off to do whatever it is they usually do when they’re done with their breakfast. Not before Ozzy could send one last hiss in the direction of the black cat.

 “Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re a big tough guy. Go on.” 

Pleased with himself, Ozzy trotted away in the direction of his pack. Once they were gone, Eddie finally got a good look at black cat who, once again, was making her way out of hiding.

In comparison to the rest of the cats, this one stuck out like a sore thumb. While the others were matted flea-covered strays, this cat had perfectly groomed long hair that looked particularly soft and fluffy. Her neon green eyes were clear and bright and her ears remained pointed and intact. 

After she made sure all the other cats were gone, she immediately perked up and began approaching Eddie with her fluffy tail pointing towards the sky.

“Meow?”

“Hi there,” Eddie said gently. “You’re new.”

Eddie slowly lifted his hand, pointer finger stretched out towards the feline. She sniffed at it attentively before dragging her cheek across his short nails repeatedly. Eddie got the hint and started scratching behind her ears and down her spine, watching happily as she leaned into his touch before getting distracted by the leftover fish. 

She was even softer than he imagined.

Eddie knew she didn’t belong out here, she’s too healthy and social to be an outdoor cat or a stray. His heart ached at the thought of someone out there looking for this sweet and loving companion. He knew he needed to help her find her home.

“In the meantime, I bestow upon you the title of ‘Sabbath’. Pretty metal, huh?”

“Purrrrow?”

“Exactly.”

Eddie cautiously scooped her up, pleasantly surprised by how easy this was for her. She immediately settled in his grip and turned to wrap her paws around his neck, nuzzling affectionately into his long hair. 

Eddie took a moment with her, enjoying the feeling of her vibrating purrs against his chest, before heading back inside and to bed. The purring heals his heart a bit, it’s nice having someone around who offers their love to him without needing anything in return.

As soon as Eddie sets her down on the comforter, she spins around a couple times before passing out, Eddie falling asleep not long after.

 _______________________________________________

Eddie was sitting in class hunched over his notebook, planning out the next Dungeons and Dragons campaign for Hellfire. He was so focused he didn’t even realize the rest of the class packed up their things and left already.

“Mr. Munson, class is dismissed,” the teacher pointed out tiredly.

“You sure you want me to go, Mr. K?” Eddie said slyly, knowing Mr. Kowcheski hates the nickname, “we could talk about our feelings? Who have you been crushing on these days?”

Mr. Kowcheski deadpanned at the delinquent for a long moment before looking past him.

“You too, Ms. Y/L/N. Class is over.”

Eddie turned around, noticing you were still there for the first time. You sat slumped in your chair with a slack expression and wet dull eyes as you stared at the linoleum floor. You jumped slightly and blushed from the attention, eyes jumping around the room.

“S-sorry Mr. Kowcheski,” your voice wavered as you shakily gathered your things and made a break for it, Eddie following close behind.

He’s not sure what possessed him to approach you, but he knew he needed to make sure you were okay. 

 You never gave Eddie a reason to hate you, always sending him shy smiles and letting him borrow a pencil whenever he asked. You were a breath of fresh air in a school full of stale and rotten posers who made his life a living nightmare.

Everytime Eddie’s eyes wandered to you in class, you were always paying close attention and absorbing the lecture through taking notes and asking questions. He always admired that about you. That’s why it was so strange seeing you so zoned out that you didn’t even realize the bell had already rung.

“Hey, you okay?” Eddie said, catching up to you in the hallway.

“Huh? O-oh hi Eddie. What’s up?”

Now that Eddie was closer, he could see your red-trimmed eyes and dark bags as you avoided his gaze. Your usual up-beat tone of voice was now scratchy and tired. Eddie felt sadness and worry flip through his stomach at the sight.

“Nothing, I just wanted to see if you were okay,” he tilted his head, trying to catch your eye, “You don’t seem like your normal self.”

Eddie could tell by the way your eyes widened and your breathing stuttered that he caught you off guard. Once you gather your bearings, you offer him a shy smile that comes as quickly as it goes.

“Thanks, Eddie. I’m fine,” you looked down at your shoes, shaking your head solemnly. “It’s…it’s stupid. But thanks anyway,” you said, voice breaking along with Eddie’s heart.

You walked away before he could press any further. 

_______________________________________________

Now that school was out, Eddie could finally head home and brainstorm ideas on how to return Sabbath to her rightful home.

 Eddie sauntered through the trailer door, shopping bags full of canned cat food in tow, as he shook the rain from his wet hair like a dog. He turned to Wayne, lounging in his usual spot on the armchair, only this time he wasn’t alone.

“Boy, if you don’t get this damn cat off of me…”

Sabbath looked perfectly happy, stretched out on Wayne’s jean covered legs. Blissfully unaware that he wanted her off of him. Or maybe she just didn’t care. She sent Eddie, what could only be described as a smile as he walked over and delicately scooped her up. She protested a little with a long closed mouth “mew”, then settled into his arms, hugging him around the neck once more.

Wayne looked up at Eddie, ocean eyes flooded with disapproval.

“I know, I know. It’s the last time I swear,” Eddie defended.

His Uncle stayed silent.

“I couldn’t just leave the poor thing, she wouldn’t have survived. She’s a lover, not a fighter!”

Wayne's face stayed the same, only lifting the corner of his brow at him.

“I’m looking for her owner, I swear. She definitely belongs to someone.”

At that, Wayne lifted himself from his armchair with an “old man grunt”, as Eddie liked to call it. His Uncle gave him a loving pat on the shoulder as he walked past him, heading to the bathroom to get ready for his night shift at the plant. 

Eddie spent the rest of the evening making posters out of cheap printer paper, writing on them with a giant black magic marker. 

“Found Cat

Black, long hair, green eyes”

Eddie added his phone number and called it good. It wasn’t much to go off of, but he figured there couldn’t be too many missing black cats out there in Hawkins.

Eddie flicked the pen cap towards Sabbath, watching as she swatted it off the edge of the table and chased it around. Soon she riled herself up so much that the zoomies overcame her, running from one end of the trailer all the way into Eddie’s room and back again. He found himself completely entertained just by watching this cat do cat things that a couple hours went by without him even noticing.

Eddie was hoping the rain would subside but this was Indiana, the weather never did what you wanted it to do. He wanted to get the word out sooner, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Not that he was complaining. Fondness blossomed in his chest as Sabbath trotted over to him and rubbed the top of her soft head against his chin. Then she settled on his lap for the rest of the evening.

_______________________________________________

6:14. This morning, Eddie managed to sleep in. Although he would’ve much rather slept longer, he was pleasantly surprised to have a couple extra hours. 

That was until he realized why he had woken up. Sabbath was meowing continuously, barely stopping to breathe. Jumping back and forth from the pillow Eddie was resting his head on, to the top of his dresser that was set in front of his bedroom window. When she leaped up, sliding a bit on the smooth surface, she scratched at the window overlooking the front yard. Eddie sluggishly pulled himself up and out of bed to see what Sabbath was getting so worked up about.

You were riding your bike in the soft glow of the morning, tires crutching in protest as you slowly pedaled. You kept your eyes and head moving, scanning the area diligently. In one hand you gripped the handle bars, in the other you held a small bag of cat treats that you were shaking every few seconds. Hope lightens your eyes at the sound of Dungeon’s meows, but it dissolves instantly when he’s not the one you’re looking for.

Eddie watched as Sabbath propped herself up on her back legs and began scratching at the single paned glass window like she could dig her way through. When she looked back at Eddie, begging him to understand her pleas, he patted her head softly and moved towards the front door.

By the time Eddie stepped outside you had stopped your bike and were silently sobbing in the middle of the road. Your back was partially turned to him but he could tell by the quivering of your shoulders and the slouch of your neck that you were overwhelmed with emotion.

“Hey Y/N!” Eddie greeted, louder than he intended.

Eddie cringed slightly as you jumped three feet into the air, dropping the open bag of treats in the process. The clowder of strays devours the fallen snacks in seconds before running off into the woods. Not before Ozzy could send Eddie a look that portrayed his disappointment in him for not feeding them earlier in the morning.

“Ah, shit. Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no it’s alright,” you sniffed hard and vigorously wiped your face before turning to Eddie, playing it off like you weren’t just weeping.

As Eddie got closer he noticed the plastic cat carrier zip tied to the back of your bike and the pile of clothes in the basket attached to your handlebars. You watched him scan your bike, his eyes sparkling with what you misinterpreted for judgment. 

“Sorry, I’m just looking for…for my cat,” you sent him a tightlipped smile and sniffed back your tears. 

“She must be some cat, huh?” Eddie couldn’t stand to leave you hanging for any longer, watching your face crumple as you nodded. He smiled softly, “she wouldn’t happen to be a fluffy black cat, would she?”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide and hopeful. The last remnants of your tears sliding down your cheeks as you blinked owlishly at him. Your mouth was agape in an attempt to respond, but all you could manage was a frantic nod.

Eddie walked backwards slowly and smiled playfully, dimples on full display as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. He swiftly spun around before jogging up his front steps to open his front door. You watched him curiously before you noticed what emerged from his trailer.

“KITTY!” a sob ripped through your throat as you lurched forward, bike clattering to the ground in the process.

“Kitty?” Eddie mumbled to himself incredulously.

He watched as the relief you were feeling had a physical effect on you. Your knees wobbled, feet crossing over each other as you ran forward. It would’ve taken you down had you not been so eager to reach the feline. Whimpers cracked through your chest when you finally met in the middle, ‘Kitty’ being just as excited to get to you. You expertly scooped her up and let her snuggle into your hair as you clung to each other. The way you held one another reminded Eddie of how a caring mother would hold her child.

Watching this reunion was something special. Seeing these two beings who were unconditionally in love, coming together after days apart sent a warmth through Eddie’s heart. He felt a bit selfish for being proud of himself for making this happen, but quickly shook it off. That cat definitely wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for him and you would still be heartbroken.

“I was s-so w-worried about you, Kitty,” you blubbered as you pressed kiss after kiss on her soft little head. Your happy tear-filled eyes blinked up at Eddie, “t-thank you so much, Eddie. You have no idea what this means to me, thank you-” before you could back out you gently held Eddie’s face and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

Eddie’s face tingled with heat as a blush crept up his neck. He was just standing there, dumbfounded, not expecting the affection but not hating it either. He moved to touch his burning cheek to savor the feeling, but it made you cringe seeing the moisture you left behind.

“S-sorry,” you said with a wet laugh.

“Don’t apologize. I should be thanking you,” Eddie said, still in a lovesick daze.

“What? You’re the one that saved my cat!”

“Yeah, but you’re the one that kissed me!” Eddie would like to say that his flirting was smooth and intentional, but really he was just flabbergasted that someone as sweet and pretty as you would give him any sort of attention. 

You barked out a surprised laugh as Kitty moved to nuzzle her face into the other side of your neck. You wiped at the tears and snot still caked on your face, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your emotional outburst.

“Sorry,” you apologized again, “I feel kinda stupid for crying so hard over a cat.”

“You keep saying that,” Eddie said with a smile and a soft head shake that made his curly hair float around his shoulders.

You sniffed, “saying what?”

“That your emotions are stupid. Like it’s some offense to be sad and worried about the greatest cat in the world.”

Eddie’s words surprised you. You scanned his face, looking for anything that would suggest he’s teasing or making fun of you. Luckily, it wasn’t there.

“You…you think she’s the great cat in the world?”

“Yeah! What’s not to like? She’s affectionate, entertaining, and really fucking cute. I’d probably lose my mind if I was the one to lose her. I mean, she’s a cat that hugs. What’s better than that?”

You gasped dramatically, turning to look at the cat still in your arms, “you hugged him? What a little traitor! She usually only hugs me,” you giggled.

Eddie was shocked, yet flattered. “She must be a good judge of character,” he said with a smug grin.

“Yeah, that explains why she hates my parents.”

Eddie erupted in laughter, catching you off guard. You didn’t mean to make a joke but it was kind of funny. Your chortles mixing together and echoing throughout the quiet trailer park. 

Your cat pulled back from your neck so she could look back at Eddie and send him a grateful “meow” and a slow blink. Eddie reached out to stroke behind her ears lovingly. It made you tense for a second, scared she’d take a swipe at the metal-head but instead she leaned into his touch.

“You like that, don’t you Sabbath?” he cooed, the pitch to his voice raising an octave.

“You named her Sabbath?”

“Oh, uhh y-yeah,” Eddie said, scratching the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah, it was just a placeholder name until I found her owner.”

You nodded slowly as a knowing smile slithered across your lips, “Black Sabbath. Very clever.”

Eddie could have proposed to you right then and there. Instead, he would have to settle for dinner and a movie.

_______________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

main masterlist

#stranger things #fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #mutal pining #friends to lovers #canon divergent #reader #80s #black cat #y/n #netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #wayne munson

[cold-heart-warm-writings]

Ouran Host Club Members and their Personal Bookshelves

*the bookshelves that are not dictated by their families, and are truly just for them* 

Mori: Mori doesn’t strike me as a huge reader outside of studying for school. Maybe a smaller bookshelf with lots of animal care books, a few gardening tips and tricks books, and a few other ecology books. There’s half a shelf on the history of martial arts in Japan and the different styles. No trinkets (his raccoon would steal them or the chickens might eat them). 

Honey: A shit ton of sweets baking books. Not because *he* is particularly interested in baking, but so he can show his personal chef what he wants to eat next. A *big* collector of cutesy blind boxes, so all of those trinkets are arranged by style and color along the various shelves. Maybe a hidden shelf with a few dark romances look read the manga this dude istg he a frea--

Kaoru: Went through a major self help/self improvement phase recently, and that’s reflected on his shelves. A few books in foreign languages. A solid amount of graphic novels. Went through a big super hero comics phase and was also obsessed with The Walking Dead for a while, so those are all kept fondly and neatly. He has some things he’s bought while out shopping with Haruhi at the commoner’s supermarket that he enjoys seeing lined up on his shelves. 

Hikaru: A respectable amount of manga, his favorite action-y and dystopian books, and video games. Messy, chaotic, series are not lined up together, much less in correct number order. They go on the shelf wherever there’s space, at least they aren’t on the floor, so who cares? Spines? Broken. Pages? Dog eared. Text? Written all over. Fucks? Not given. “They’re my books, I can do whatever I want with them.” Protect him from the booktubers/booktokers. Would absoLUTELY rip a book in half. Never let them know your next move.

Haruhi: Extremely curated. There’s not as much space where she and her dad live compared to the other members, plus books can be expensive. Haruhi is a big supporter of her local library and lending books amongst friends. She has a carefully selected collection of her favorite books from when she was younger and as she’s gotten older. There is also one book dedicated to each host member that she acquired in case they ever surprise pop by to help entertain them if she needs to get anything done. She also has a fair amount of trinkets and fun little figurines to decorate the shelves. 

Kyoya: #aesthetic #pristine #myshelvesarebetterthanyourshelves, look I do NOT see this man as having messy bookshelves. They are regularly dusted, spines are NOT cracked, and filled with classics all from the same publisher so the style of binding is uniform. Lots of Osamu Dazai, and even more Japan travel guides.

Tamaki: Gorgeous shelves. Giant, gleaming with polish, any bookworms dream. The shelves though? A bit chaotic. There is an entire shelf dedicated to The Little Prince in as many editions and styles he could find in dozens of languages. There are picture frames full of Odette and his friends and his mother, more children’s books in French, a shit ton of Japan travel guides, autobiographies on famous piano composers, an expansive music collection, figurines, dead plants that he swears are still alive, and any other means of proof that he is living his life to the fullest and having a good time. 

Bonus

Renge: Manga. You know those collectors who have those perfect white bookshelves, rows and rows of manga, maybe some fairy lights, and the funko pops of all their faves? Yeah, that’s her. *And* she has the volumes in Japanese, French, and English. Honestly, maybe a few other languages too if she likes the covers. Some are even signed. Renge also is not about that ~half completed series~ life, nah, she’s a completionist, and has *every* volume, even the volumes that don’t technically come out till next month. I aspire to be her in this regard only. 

Nekozawa: Japan’s largest collection, both of the personal nature and available to the public, of occult books, some of which date back hundreds of years. He was dark academia before it was trendy. Only light through special panes is allowed to permeate the room in order to protect these books. He also has some of those glass stands with certain books flipped open to his favorite pages. Nekozawa also has a substantial amount of occult artifacts which he sometimes lends out to museums. 

#this is aggressively long #i always start writing these late at night when i mean to do something else and then spend way to long writing #imma post this late at night too idc #but look when the idea strikes you just gotta run with it ya know? #ohshc #ouran #ouran host club #takashi morinozuka #Mitskuni Haninozuka #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #Kyoya Ootori #tamaki suoh #Renge Houshakuji #umehito nekozawa #renge #nekozawa #ouran high school host club

[house-of-kolchek]

Okay buddy. I need a snippet of Leong. Please 🤣🤣🤣

Ohhohohohohoho

Get ready friends because it’s actually not at all what you’re thinking:

—

You grimaced at the security footage, watching as a figure missing too many limbs tackled a man in a dark suit jacket. Through the grainy footage, it was still easy to spot a sharp gleam in the attackers eyes, and the splotches of red and rot that decorated its face.

“When was this?”

“Yesterday evening,” Bailey replied, her eyes still trained on the screen. “Mr. Bidel was brought into the station after a call from his wife claimed he was threatening her with a knife. Four hours later… this.”

You sighed, glancing back to the screen as the video looped again, replaying the officer’s untimely death over again. No matter how long you’d been doing this, it still sent a wave of grief and sickness through you.

“So clearly it’s some sort of virus,” you started. It was obvious in the rotted flesh, the visceral, hungry attacks, so much like every other BOW you’d encountered before. “But who’s got their hands on it this time?”

Bailey turned to the computer screen, clicking the mouse a few times and projecting varied articles and photographs up to the large display screen. Your eyes flashers over the photo of a suburban neighbourhood. A factory. The words NEW RC plastered on a large sign.

“All directions point towards an Umbrella Copycat.”

Your heart felt like it was in your throat. You hadn’t been there in the initial Raccoon City incident. The fall of the first Umbrella. But you didn’t need to - you’d heard the stories, it was the literal reason you had this job. So this couldn’t be a coincidence - finding the RC initials and the word “Umbrella” within the same sentence. But…

“How did no one see this before?” you demanded. “It’s so obvious! Like - you see those initials right?” Wasn’t it the departments entire job to watch out for this kind of thing? Prevent those horrors from ever occurring again?

“Because this is likely one of the most secluded townships in the United States. It’s literally underground. It was sheer luck that the Bidels were on vacation when this occurred, and the processing went through a “public” station record system.” She sighed between the words, reaching to massage her temples. There was a strange sort of defeat from her posture, something you hadn’t seen before. It didn’t sit right with you.

“So what’s the plan then?”

Bailey met your gaze. There was something still unsaid there, something you found yourself suddenly afraid to hear.

“Mrs. Bidel hasn’t been heard from since the incident,” she sighed. “Her husband worked at the factory, and her interview indicated that they weren’t planning on returning home. We’re incredibly low on intel, but underground sources have managed an in. You’re going undercover as the Bidel’s… successor. You’re going to gather intel so we can put a lid on this before it erupts.”

Ohhhhhh there was a lot in those few sentences. Undercover. In the suburbs. Cut off from the rest of the country, to gain information about a nameless company that turns people into zombies and makes them disappear.

Sometimes you wondered why you kept this job.

“Something on your face tells me that’s not all,” you groaned, leaning back into your chair as she fixed you with a concerning sympathetic look. She shook her head, and suddenly your heart was in your throat again.

“The neighbourhood seems to maintain a particular… niche.” She trailed off, her nose scrunching with distaste. Another picture fluttered past the screen. A collection of happy looking couples, in full PDA mode all cuddled together with big smiles.

Oh god.

“You’re going in with a partner, to play the roles and properly fit in.”

When she didn’t continue, you cleared your throat.

“Who’s the partner?”

After a moment, she let out a long breath, uttering two words that struck an intimidated sort of fear into your heart.

“Leon Kennedy.”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil #upcoming

[winksasleeplesseye]

recordatio (two)

SUMMARY: Soon after President Graham's daughter has been kidnapped, one of AUPIT's top operators is taken as well. Graham puts Leon on the case and now he's here in Spain. Thinking about the mission and the past few years.

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

WARNINGS: cursing, some violence mentioned

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

Spain

2004

Leon is sure he’d always wear a scowl on his face, with the thoughts that ran through his head, it’d almost become his resting face as of late. He’d certainly never imagined this is what his life would turn out to be.

Things changed on a massive scale after Raccoon City, that was pretty clear.

But, the chain of events afterward still trips Leon up every once in a while. To put it lightly, it was a shitshow. 

Resting his head in his palm, he kept his eyes trained on the forest outside the car window as the car whizzed past. The darkness and the gloominess seemed to match how he felt and looked. Like shit. 

Any residual feelings of happiness or any related emotion had long been buried deep within himself. He learned that quickly after everything, that part would probably never fully come back as it once was. 

He looked over the pictures in his lap once again. One of a girl he only knew recently and one of a woman he’d never forget. Leon considers it purely coincidence that the president’s daughter and their first best agent (he did not ever think anyone could really be better than her) are both found in the same area.

But at the same time, he knows that can’t be the case. 

He’d been briefed on both. 

Amara's disappearance puzzled him more. 

Amara. 

Just thinking about her set off loneliness in Leon. Regrettably, the last they’d seen of one another had been so long ago that Leon was afraid he’d forget her. Her eyes. Her smile. Everything about her.

A part of him wanted her to forget him altogether. But another couldn’t bear it. It’s probably why there was a sick, underlying excitement that Leon had to be able to save her…to just see her again despite the circumstances. 

He had to admit, his avoidance of her had been self-imposed. She had never asked him to leave her but they both made deals they couldn’t take back and Leon wouldn’t be able to live with himself, knowing he was the direct cause of her suffering, especially at the hands of the government. 

Her and Sherry. 

Both of them were innocent. 

They deserved normal lives. As normal as one could get after what they’d all been through. 

Get your shit together, you idiot.

“So, tell me, Yanqui….why did you come to this horrible place? As close to nowhere that I’ve ever seen?” The older officer’s voice breaks him out of his pensive reverie, giving him a sidelong glance. The mission is on a need-to-know basis and quite frankly, these officers didn’t need to know anything beyond the surface level. 

“Let’s just say—looking for some people,” Leon answers plainly, calmly. Keeping his cards close to his chest is necessary. 

He’d learned that very quickly. The world of espionage trumped the world of your friendly neighborhood beat cop. 

“These people must be very important, eh?” The officer turns back to look at the dark road ahead. He continues speaking. “The chief gave the orders himself. “Help him,” he said.”  

“Well, I’m sure you boys didn’t come all the way out here to roast marshmallows…or maybe you did,” Leon attempts to joke. Eh, he’s a bit rusty. The older officer still manages a slight chuckle. 

“You have a strange sense of humor,” he states. Leon wants to be offended but he doesn’t have it in him to debate him otherwise. “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. Just between us.” 

Leon waits for him to continue. 

“A lot of people have gone missing around here. And it’s been that way for a while now.” 

He takes the information into consideration. Clearly, this isn’t their first rodeo but it also makes it glaringly obvious to Leon that they, for lack of a better term, were incompetent. 

Telling him this as if it weren’t the least bit concerning…is concerning. 

If this were six years ago, the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed rookie cop in him wouldn’t be able to stomach such a thing. Well, Leon now still couldn’t stomach that. But he’s not about to tell these men how to do their jobs so he keeps his response simple enough. 

“Well then…should be just another day in the office, right?”

The officer hums. “I mean, last week there was a search for some missing hikers.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do your best to help me…” He just wants to get this conversation over with. Thankfully, that seems to be it so he turns his eyes back out towards the scenery. 

It seems like hours before they’ve come to the very end of the road. Realistically it was probably more likely thirty minutes but Leon hadn’t checked his watch. 

“I think this is it,” the young officer announced. 

Leon turned his head forward as the older officer addressed him, “Nature calls, eh? I’ll be right back.” He simply nods in response. 

He follows the man with his eyes as he sets off to do what he has to do until he no longer sees him. He wasn’t about to watch nor want to see a man take a leak. 

The younger officer offers him a smoke and he waves him off.

A dense fog sat just above the bushes, weeds, grass and rocks sprawled out before the car. The trees and their thin branches bent in towards each other, almost like they were preparing to nab anyone who got near them. 

Just ahead on the left in a small clearing within the thicket, beyond an old, rotted fence, nestled just above the tall grass, Leon noticed a strange wooden symbol. 

Not exactly a cross, he knows those too well. This was different. 

Leon really didn’t want to think too much about what it meant but he would keep an eye for more of these symbols. It was put there for a reason. 

“He sure is taking his time. Did he fall in?” The young officer questions out loud, looking at the direction his partner had left. Leon kept his eyes trained in that direction too. It had been a bit but he didn’t want to question the officer’s bathroom habits. 

Somehow, he could just sense the eyes burning into the side of his head from the rearview mirror. 

“Maybe you better go and take a look?” 

Have to do everything myself, don’t I? 

Leon got out of the car, glancing towards the path the officer had taken. 

“I’ll watch the car. Wouldn’t want to get a parking ticket.” The young officer had a stupid smile on his face as Leon turned to look at him before walking ahead to the path, which was blocked by sharp branches. 

Leon sighs to himself. “So much for helping me.” 

Fuck. 

That’s just about the only thing Leon could repeatedly say as he fought like hell with these people. Something is seriously wrong with them. 

As if shit didn’t already hit the fan back at the lodge, discovering the body of the other younger officer being burnt alive in effigy in the village square probably sent it through the ceiling.

While Leon didn’t exactly expect a walk in the park as far as missions go, he definitely wasn’t expecting shit to go sideways this fast. 

Nor did he expect a mangled looking maniac with a bag over his head to try his best to gut him like a fish with a chainsaw. 

It’s Leon’s lucky day, isn’t it?

The only benefit now is that he was less like a deer in headlights at even the mere sight of a hostile individual—zombie or otherwise—and didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. That split second could cost someone their life if they weren’t quick. 

Go with your gut, don’t think. 

The first thing he’d been taught that stuck with him. Leon did consider himself a bit of an overthinker even now outside of his work, every interaction, every single thing he’d done, but Kra—Major instilled in him that in the heat of battle that overthinking your next moves was the difference between an alive soldier and a dead soldier. 

Leon wanted to be neither if he thought too much about it. He just wanted to be Leon.

But right now, he was down to the wire and he’d exhausted all his firepower to keep the villagers at bay. He didn’t come this far to fail. 

Leon pulls out the knife he’d been carrying since Raccoon, more than ready to defend himself and fight like hell as they close in on him from all sides but a chiming of a bell stops the villagers dead in their tracks. 

“Huh?” 

Leon quietly followed after them, they had laid down their weapons and walked toward the chiming that emanated from their church’s bell. Almost in a trance-like state as they muttered the same words over and over again. 

Was that all it took to stop their attack on him? Somehow he wished he knew that sooner.

A slight cold breeze goes through the air as Leon watches them file in one by one to the church, one of the villagers with his bloodshot red, almost beady eyes stares him down as he shuts the door. 

But it seemed as though absolutely no thought was held behind his eyes. Something about it unnerved the shit out of Leon. He can take dirty looks thrown at him, he’d gotten his fair share during training, but at least he could tell they were alive. These people? They were almost like…zombies. 

Leon can’t help but be a tad annoyed but for once, he saw the bright side of this only briefly though. He even had time to joke to himself. “Where’s everyone going? Bingo?” 

It’s dark, severely dark. And smells like a potato sack, lake water, and skunk. Or what she assumes is skunk. 

Amara finds that she’s more shocked at being alive than being tied up in a horrendous-smelling sack. The man, Bitore Mendez, if she remembered correctly what Luis called him, had thrown her so hard, she should be dead. 

She guessed that’s one benefit to this…power. It feels disgusting to even think that. 

Of course, that power certainly wasn’t getting her out of this bag anytime soon. She grunted as she tried with all her might to perhaps loosen some of the ropes tied around various parts of her body. 

No luck.

Whatever happened in the time she was unconscious in Luis’ lab to now certainly had something to do with it but it worried her how unbothered she actually was about it. 

“What did they plan to do to me? Roast me over a fire?” She asks no one in particular, though it’s a bit muffled considering the sack right up against her face.

The gash at her side stings slightly, no doubt that it was scabbed over by now. 

Footsteps sounded nearby, and the shining of a flashlight illuminated the small holes in the material of the sack. Amara froze when the footsteps stopped, she only prayed it wasn’t that big guy again. Another bout with him might actually kill her. Well, if she’d call it a bout…he had her bested from the start. 

The same flashlight now shines even brighter in her eyes, free from the cover of the sack to obscure some of it.  

Amara instinctively looks away, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the space beyond the light. 

“You changed your hair.” Amara’s head snaps back towards the light, looking above it to see…

…Leon?

No way. She had to be dreaming. 

But…she knows those blue eyes anywhere. She also notices fairly purple eye bags underneath them, a clear sign that he hasn’t been sleeping much. His hair is definitely lighter too. His voice is deeper, more mature. He was still as fine as five Fridays, thank goodness. Things had changed, yet stayed the same at the same time. 

He was definitely not how she remembered him, but somehow to her, that was a good thing. Maybe if she could reach out and touch him, she’d have more confirmation. He’s real. He’s here. 

Amara cycles through all the things she could say right now, but all she manages to say despite the situation with a stupid smile in return is, “You got bigger.”

Leon tries to fight an obvious smile, something Amara thinks he hasn’t done in a while. “Comes with age.” 

He pulls out a knife, cutting through some of the ropes around her body and the circulation she didn’t know she was losing comes back to her quickly. A slight tingle in her muscles at the sensation. 

“Can you stand?” Leon offers her a hand. 

Amara nods, clenching her fists a few times. “Think so,” She takes his hand, immediately ignoring the electricity that pulsed through her at the contact. Frankly, she wanted more. 

Beyond Leon’s flashlight, she couldn’t see much else in this room. Maybe a few wooden boxes and things covered in drapes that hadn’t seen a good wash in at least a decade. She could definitely hear the familiar push and pull of water against the shore outside. 

 It was terrifyingly dark but standing by the light made her feel safe for the moment. Even with barely any light, Amara takes a good, long look at Leon as he scans the room. 

His softer, more cherub features she remembered from Raccoon City were replaced by more hardened, defined edges. His face seemed etched in a permanent hard stare that relayed a message that he didn’t want to be fucked with. 

Unmistakably Leon. Just without the glow of optimism. 

Such is the way of going from a boy to a man, she guesses.  That and a zombie outbreak that destroyed a whole city. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Amara grips Leon tightly in a hug. He’s warm, almost snuggly with his fur-lined bomber jacket and not to mention, the muscle he packed on. “You really are a sight for sore eyes, Kennedy, you know that?” She mutters, resting her head against the collar of his jacket. Leon seems hesitant to hug her back, but eventually, she feels a hand on the small of her back and another over her shoulders. 

Their hug is brief, but it’s more than enough for Amara right now. What she really wants is to kiss those plump lips of his but this situation probably isn’t the most appropriate time for it, all things considered.

Glancing around the area, she eyes another sack moving around in the dark. “You should probably get that guy out too.” 

Leon followed her line of sight with his flashlight, moving closer and kneeling down to rip open the sack. She wanted to laugh at seeing Luis with duct tape over his mouth but decided against it. They must really not want him to talk for some reason. 

With no warning, Leon rips the tape quickly to be met with a grunt of pain on Luis’ end. “That really hurts, you know?” 

“Seemed like you really wanted to talk.” 

“How observant, senor. Now, uh, say, uh, you got a smoke?”

“You know, those things'll kill ya.”

His eyes fell upon Amara once again, “Hermosa, help me out here, would ya?” 

She wears an almost flirtatious smile, “Of course, guapo. What do you need, besides a lesson in manners?" Luis briefly screwed his face up in what Amara assumes is annoyance. 

“Oh, well, maybe just untie me then?” He shuffled around within the bag, turning on his side and his eyes widened at something behind them. 

“¡Joder! Not this guy.” 

Both of them turn their eyes toward…

“Oh, come on!” Amara rolls her eyes while Leon immediately aims his gun at—who else?—Mendez. Something about his presence immediately numbs all her senses, she can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything. 

She tries with all her might, breaking a sweat at the effort to even move from her kneeling position on the floor. It was like an invisible elephant had decided to sit on her shoulders.

What the hell? 

“Who are you? Stop right there!” She can hear Leon try his best to remain in agent mode, but Mendez yokes him up easily by the throat. He throws Leon as if he were merely a bug in his path. 

The force of it breaks down one of the wooden boxes and Amara can just barely see as Leon’s body laid at an awkward angle within the broken pieces of the remnants of the box, head hung down limply against his chest.

It was like her voice had been taken from her, she couldn’t even scream for Leon as Mendez stood over him, she couldn’t see what he was doing to him before whatever held her in place seemed to cut her airways now. 

The last thing she sees before passing out is Mendez turning towards her.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #Leon kennedy x oc #oc amara moore #leon kennedy x black oc #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #leon scott kennedy #re4 remake #resident evil #black oc #mixed race oc #mixed oc #original black character #luis serra #luis serra navarro #aod fic #ashley graham #Leon kennedy x mixed race oc #re 2 #re 2 remake fanfic #re 4 remake fanfic

[clottedscream]

at last tumblr brushed the dirt off her hands and looked over her work. the fire had been prepared, the kindling piled high, the logs well stacked. "all you need now is a little juice" she said pulling out a bottle of lighter fluid. she doused the huge pile of wood with the lighter fluid, using nearly the entire thing, before setting it down. now came the fire. with a few clicks of her lighter a great roaring flame blazed before her.

all ready for the guess of honor she thought as she walked behind the old shed and uncovered the cage. its inhabitant, a once asleep raccoon, suddenly jerked back to life, hissing at her presence. the little bastard had made a hell of a ruckus over at her girlfriend's house. tumblr didnt understand why but twitter was scared stiff of raccoons. they were ordinarily no trouble, but lately there had been more and more of them fighting and climbing and getting into anything they could. tumblr told twitter she would put down some repellant to clear them away, and it seemed at first to be working for none of them came back for over a week. that is until that one night. her girlfriend's call had awoken her late, nearly midnight, sobbing and blubbering inconsolably. she asked what had happened, and of the incoherent speech twitter had made in response, she could only understand one word: markie

without even a pause to rub the sleep from her eyes tumblr was on her motorcycle to twitter's house. when she arrived twitter was waiting on her front step, her face a wet smeared mess. she led tumblr to the backdoor but refused to step out. what tumblr saw near the old lawn chair, that ragged, twisted, shredded thing, sent her into a fury. the very next day she brought down a cage and some bait. after she led a solemn backyard service, and interred markie's mortal remains within the dark embrace of the earth, she set up the cage near the hole in the fence her girlfriend said that fucking murderer had escaped through. and like clockwork the next day the cage was occupied. twitter's confirmation that the raccoon was the same one- missing ear, scar over the muzzle, patchy fur- had damned it. tumblr promised to her girlfriend she wouldnt ever have to worry about the damn animal ever again.

alright buddy, time to collect on that promise tumblr thought as she fed a cheap wooden broomstick, like the handle of the executioner's axe, through the cage's handle. her face previously a hateful grimace soon transformed into a grin of vicious triumph as the masked beast within hissed and panicked, twisting and clawing futilely to escape. "save your strength pal, youll need it a lot more in a minute" she said as she lifted the cage and its prisoner. as they approached the blazing pyre the raccoon's hissing and thrashing grew fiercer and more blind. "this is for markie, asshole!" tumblr said as she dropped the cage firmly upon the inferno before her.

instantly the cage's inhabitant became a chaotic, thrashing, screeching, hissing, clawing, biting whirlwind. tumblr laughed at the sight, her mind briefly picturing markie's mangled form, how much terror and suffering he felt in his last moments at the hands of the thing in the cage. the smoky aroma of burning wood became mixed with the stench of frying hair as markie's murderer became a living (but not for long) fireball. its desperate attempts to escape its punishment jostled the rather undersized cage, but thankfully tumblr had piled the wood such that its top was rather flat, and so she merely needed to nudge the cage back into place with the broom handle occasionally. "burn baby burn!" she said venomously, laughing almost without control. the smell of roasting flesh soon joined the ballet of aromas as the raccoon began to lose strength.

after many more minutes, the condemned began to curl up, the only sounds escaping it now were agonized gurgling whines. regaining her composure after the laughing fit, tumblr stood and watched with her hands on her hips as a dark smile spread across her face, satisfied with her meting out of justice. she wanted to make sure before she extinguished the fire not an ounce of suffering remained to be had for the fiend roasting before her, after all, no such mercy was shown towards poor markie, was there? not to mention the anguish and despair her girlfriend felt that fateful night.

eventually the murderer's body was left as little more than a charred, shriveled up lump, almost like a mummy. she considered putting the fire out now and disposing of it but thought again back to markie. she decided then to not allow the raccoon any bodily dignity, certainly not any more than it had allowed markie when it defiled his body. she wanted to simply leave it alone until it had been completely burned to nothing, but she knew better than to allow a fire to burn unattended.

so instead she wanted to see it burn to bones and ashes.

it was almost an hour later that her desire had come true, and by then the fire had begun to die down on its own, a bucket of water finishing the task as she retrieved the cage and its contents from the still-smoking cinders. shovel in hand she dug a small pit, not with the mournful respect she had dug markie's grave, but with hatred and spite. deeming the pit sufficient, she dispassionately dumped the charred remnants of markie's killer from the cage. she then coldly covered the hole up, but not before hocking up a great big blob of spit at the crumbling husk, its only company as it was left within the cold maw of the earth.

i don’t say this very often but i really think you should be locked away or something

#tw animal cruelty #tw animal abuse #is it open season to send me weird bad asks now #ask #anon #not art

[mystical-sleepy-musings]

MORPHEUS

Greek god of Dreams and head of the Onerioi

SOURCES

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Bullfinch's Mythology"

Author:Thomas Bullfinch

[Theoi.com|https://www.theoi.com/]

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ethereal Morpheus

The painter of slumbers

The stroke of your brush

Brings to light

Forms familiar

Gossamer in nature

With pictures of conciousness

|Who is Morpheus?|

Morpheus: The Shaper , The Lorekeeper, The One Who Forms, The Raven Haired One and The King of Dreams and Nightmares. Morpheus usually appears in the guse of a human or in the form you are most comfortable with( (he appears to me as Dream of the Endless but with slightly altered features). He is the black winged leader of The Oneiroi, which are the thosuand dream spirits who slumber within the same cave as Hypnos their father. Through the gates of horn and ivory, they fly out like a flock of bats . The gate of horn is said to bring truthful dreams while the gate of ivory is said to bring falsehoods. The Odyssey located the realm of dreams past the streams of Oceaus close to Asphodel Meadows, which is a part of the underworld where the spirits of the dead reside. They are all winged in a way(winged ears or wings on their backs) when not appearing in dreams. He has two other named Oneiroi siblings known as Icelus/Phobetor who is the fearsome one of Nightmares who appears as animals and monsters in dreams and Phantasos the oddly whimsical one who appears as objects in his fantastically woven dreams..the rest of the Oneiroi are unnamed..

|Mythology|

Morpheus sadly does not appear in many myths but some speculate that he was the nameless dream spirit that Hypnos sent out to the grieving Alcyone whose husband Ceyx died at sea after a visit from Iris(who was sent by Hera) goddess of rainbows. Morpheus appeared in her dreams, taking the shape of her dead lover to tell her that he perished at sea. But Alcyone, after seeing her husband's corpse wash up on the shore, couldn't bear this news and tried to end her life, but she and her husband got turned into kingfishers. Also, a neoclassical painting by Pierre- Narcisse Guérin portrays Iris coming within the dark cave, filling it with blinding radiance, and apparently, she also stirs up Morpheus from his slumbers.

|My Experience|(*UPG)

Morpheus is my patron deity, who is like a father to me. He apparently had been watching over me ever since I was little but did not introduce himself until the time was right. Morpheus, to me, appears as Dream of The Endless from The Sandman but with wings. Sometimes, he has dark, inky eyes and wild hair like in the comics or looks more like Tom Sturridge in Netflix's The Sandman. Morpheus is very serious and quiet(I'm like that as well lol) but is very sweet and overprotective as well. He has infinite patience, apparently, which is even more impressive considering I work also with the loud and loveably obnoxious Icelus who is his chaotic brother. He sees me as one of his children and student being a no nonsense mentor and father figure...unlike a certain someone I know who kept messing around by picking The Emperor knowing Morpheus already took that option while we were trying to establish a tarot card for him. His energy is so gentle and calming, making him very helpful if one has anxiety (like me) or trouble sleeping. He likes to hum and give snuggles to me or to the various plushies I have set out for him (I have two squishy unicorns that are filled to bursting with his energy due to him smothering them). I have no words for how freaking grateful I am to have such a lovely deity as my patron!

|Associations|

[IC]*Note this is mostly UPG*

Animals and Creatures

Ravens and crows

Cats

Nocturnal rodents like raccoons and Possums*(upg)

Butterflies

Rabbits*(upg)

Unicorns*(Upg)

Colors*(all upg)

Dark blues

Black

Purples

Some light blues

Teal

Silver and white

Misc Objects

Feathers

Skulls

Keys*(upg)

Paintings*(upg)

Books or poems(*upg)

Anything related to The Sandman by Neil Gaiman*(upg)

For some reason, he loves surreal memes and laughs like a growly Seth Rogan*(upg)

Soft stuffies and plushies*(upg)

Foods and Drinks

Popcorn*(upg)

Chocolate

Calming teas

Blackberries*(upg)

Anything really as long as it's not caffeine(coffee, energy drinks) or overly sugary(like peeps marshmallow candy type of sugary) because in his eyes it's the thought that counts

Incense and Oils

Sandalwood

Lavender

Any calming and lightly scented blends

Planet

Moon

Music*(all upg btw)

Classic and Progressive rock

Funk

Psychedelic rock

Just 60s and early 70s music

Soft rock

Swing and 50s music

He LOOOVES Pink Floyd , David Bowie, The Church , The Doors and Echo and The Bunnymen

He only likes one metal song and that is "Enter Sandman" by Metallica

Tarot card

The Emperor*(upg)

The Moon

Crystals

Amethyst

Selenite*(upg)

Blue agate

Ruby *(upg)

Rose Quartz*(upg)

Herbs and flowers

Mugwort

Hydrangea*(upg)

Lavender

Poppies

Chamomile

#my post #morpheus

[jillvalcntines-archive]

SAINTS & SINNERS: Chapter One

MASTERLIST Characters: Carmen Lopez (oc), Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine Word Count: 3.6k Trigger Warnings: Mention of blood, gore, self-harm, use of drugs (sleeping pills) Read on AO3 (x)

The coffee tasted bitter.

Something he usually liked. Dark, with no sugar or milk and yet it tasted foul. Wrong. The black liquid was staring back at him, as his eyes searched for something in the blue cup. Chris set the warm drink back on his desk, where papers and files had made themselves comfortable as an unsortable mess. Most of the mess contained information about Umbrella. Of course, none of them ever mentioned the devil’s company by name, but the signature was all the same.

Jill, sitting at her desk across from him, hovered over her own reports. Her hazel hair hung over her face like a shield, while a hand lay in her neck, massaging it. She had already sat at her desk since the early morning and had been the last one to leave yesterday. Part of him had questioned if she had ever left the department. He thought about asking her, pointing out the clear dead end they came across, but it would be in vain. There was no way Jill Valentine would give up. And neither would he.

“Anything new?” A rhetorical question. He knew if Jill would have found something, he’d be the first she’d tell, but now silence haunted the STARS office.

“No. Just going over some names. Hoping to find someone who might be willing to help,” she answered. Voice raspy and coarse.

“Someone who won’t hang up right when they hear your name?” He took a sip from the coffee, trying to keep his face from scrunching. He pushed the cup aside. He should try to get through the day without any caffeine.

“I don’t believe we have so much luck, but perhaps someone Umbrella pissed off as much as us.”

Chris scoffed. “And hoping they are still alive?”

“You never know…” It was a daring thought, but the looming silence covered it. Every second scorning them for trying to find anything still. The clock over the office’s door ticked, mocking him. Chris stared at the mess in front of him, wishing that something, anything, would come up in his head. Their saving grace. The one clue they had been missing. Anything was better to break his head over, than to let it wander to the nightmares. The memories…

“Have you heard anything from Carmen?”

Chris swore he heard the clock stop for a moment. As if it was awaiting his answer as much as Jill, who had lifted her head for the first time in a while. He didn’t look back at her, rather keeping his eyes down. She’d only see the anger in his eyes. The disappointment of himself to have trusted the wrong person again.

“No.” He snatched after a paper, holding it in front of him and even if his eyes followed the text, nothing reached his head. Only the memories, the false promises, the daring hope, that had so quickly died down, when two weeks passed and he had heard nothing from her. His eyes fell to the paper at the corner of his desk. A dossier.

A picture was pinned in the right corner. A bit old, as she looked much younger and energetic. Someone who was thinking they could conquer the world, but the world she had chosen hadn’t let her. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in curls, framing her face, and giving her this look of innocent and youthful boldness. The complete opposite of what he had found between bloodthirsty plants and cannibalistic undead.

A knock made them jump from their chairs—their nerves and instincts were on edge. Every sound might state something coming from them. Instincts they hadn't been able to lie down since July.

“Excuse me…” A gentle voice, belonging to an older woman reached their ears. Jill was standing up, breathing through her nose. Another citizen getting lost between the daily chaos of Raccoon City’s police station. Jill was at the door the moment the woman dared a look into their office.

“Ma’am, any kind of complaints are given forward to the officers down below,” she explained politely, halfway urging the lady back.

“Actually, Miss, they sent me up here. I am looking for Chris Redfield.”

Jill stared back at him, eyebrows high, as she opened the door again and let the woman enter their office. “That would be me.” The older woman let a deep sigh out, a smile coming onto her face.

“Please, excuse me for bothering you. I am sure you have other important matters to attend to, but I think you are the only one who might help me.” As she spoke, Chris noticed a faint accent. The R’s rolling from her tongue.

“And how might I help you, Mrs…?”

“Lopez,” she answered. His eyes locked with Jill’s. “I am Carmen’s mother. They said you were the officer who helped her.”

He looked back at their visitor. He tried finding some resemblance between them. Bruises, cuts and dirt had covered Carmen. Proof of defending her life against monsters and abominations for twelve days. Dark circles under her eyes, kin paler, but the olive tan hadn’t completely disappeared back then. Her lips chipped from the lack of water, and her long black hair pulled behind in a messy braid. But the woman in front of him looked like life on two legs. Dark olive skin, kind warm eyes, which looked at him filled with hope. Carmen had either looked at him with resentment or distrust. Not that he had been any different. Those two women were nothing alike.

“That’s right, Ma’am, but how can I help you?”

The hopeful smile on her face became more forced. “I was hoping you might know where she is. She hasn’t tried to contact me since… since your colleague informed me of my Elena’s death.”

Jill stirred behind her, giving him a silent sign she would leave them alone, but he dismissed it with a short shake of his head. Mrs. Lopez didn't notice it. Chris and Jill battled with each other. Jill felt at the wrong place. She shouldn't be part of this conversation, but Chris had no intention of being alone with the older woman. He didn't know if he could lie to her if she asked about her late daughter. The name of Carmen’s sister only sent shivers down his spine.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Lopez, but I haven’t been in contact with your daughter since we came back from the mountains. Perhaps she left town.”

Jill shook her head, but this time he ignored her silent comment. They had talked about it before, after Carmen hadn’t contacted them as agreed. She had disappeared. No address of an apartment and no one at her university had seen her. She had disappeared, and while Jill and Rebecca had argumented, she might be laying low because of Umbrella, Chris disagreed rather . She had bailed. Left the town as soon as possible. Help fight Umbrella, his ass!

“No, she didn’t. I know it, because this was left in a package on my doorstep. I saw it when I came back from breakfast,” she explained, her hands searching in the bag around her shoulder. Chris’ breath caught in his lungs, as Carmen’s mother showed him the silvery bracelet with the sun and moon swinging on it as a pendant. Carmen had had such problems to get it from the lifeless arm of her sister. The tears streaming down her cheeks and her legs giving in to the exhaustion. He had been there in time to catch her before she’d let herself fall to the ground. The hot tears drained his neck and blood sprinkled vest, as he held her in her arms.

“It belonged to my Elena, you see? I gave it to her as a present, when she was accepted to nursing school. I— Carmen must have—” He heard the tears before he saw them and now he wished Jill would have left the room. The quick tears of Mrs. Lopez took him out... as Carmen’s had. The anger for Umbrella returning. For another life destroyed for selfish plans.

“Please, excuse me. I am the one to cry. I am sure, you have your own loss to mourn. I heard about the lost lives. Losing so many of your team, especially your captain… It certainly isn’t easier for you.”

“Nothing to compare to the loss of a daughter, Ma’am,” Chris replied and rubbed over her shoulder. He didn’t dare to smile, even though she tried her best. It felt wrong to him, even if it was meant in condolence. Especially from him, of all people.

“Do you know where she might be? Does she have anywhere to go? Friends? Other relatives?” He had asked around the same questions before. No one had been able to answer just one.

“No, no… Carmen never had many friends. Not since her sister got sick. She was too involved in her school work and later research, but Mr. Redfield—”

“Chris,” he corrected. His first name was the least he could offer the poor woman. Mrs. Lopez nodded with a faint smile.

“Chris… her sister’s funeral is tomorrow and I know Carmen would never miss it. She loved her big sister more than anything. She wouldn’t leave town without saying goodbye to her.”

He didn’t dare to tell the older woman that Carmen had already done it. In a way, he would wish upon no one. In a way, he had forced her to.

“I cannot promise anything, Mrs. Lo—”

“Esmé,” she corrected him, hope shining through her eyes again. His stomach turned.

“I cannot promise anything, Esmé, but—” His eyes searched for Jill again and she nodded. “—but I will do what I can to find Carmen.”

His eyes closed and his stomach turned for another time, when Esmé closed her arms around him, thanking him over and over again. Chris gave her an encouraging smile and nodded, as she left through the office’s door.

“Damn it!” Chris cursed, turning his back to Jill. His hands curled into fists and it ached in his fingers to throw the papers on the table into the paper bin. He should have told her that he had already tried finding Carmen. No one had seen or heard of her. She had disappeared into thin air, just as a part of him had expected.

“Come on, Chris. We’re gonna find her.” How Jill could find this amount of optimism was beyond him.

“Don’t kid yourself, Jill. She’s gone or at least doesn’t want to be found. Her mother needs time to accept that she lost two daughters, instead of one.”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Her piercing blue eyes stared at him, lips pressed against each other, as she walked in front of him. “She is still in town. Perhaps in a hotel under a false name. Have you actually walked into every hotel and showed her picture around?”

No, he hasn’t. He had gone to Raccoon University, spoke to her professors, the staff, and other students but no one had seen her since she had been dragged by Umbrella into the Arklay Laboratories. They had told him, she had kept to herself and given her jumping forth in classes—little wonder brain of hers—she had never gotten into the typical college life. No frat parties, no attendance at any social gatherings. Only her and her research. But he had asked around in the hotels, asked for a woman with her description, but no one had seen her.

“Jill, it doesn’t matter!” Chris stopped her, and held down Carmen’s file as she was about to read it. His best friend stared at him with big blown eyes. “It doesn’t matter if I find her. She doesn't want to be found. She is fucking bailing. That's all that matters.”

He had hoped to see understanding in his friend’s eyes, but she only narrowed them and sighed.

“For a cop, you are sometimes so dense about people’s motives, Chris,” she explained, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “She lost her sister. Because of a mistake she has made. How would you feel if the same happened to you and Claire?”

“Leave Claire out of it!” His voice raised. Even the thought of Claire getting involved was striking him to his bone. He had to tell himself twice that she was safe. She is in college. Away from Raccoon. She is safe.

“Then stop with the fucking tunnel vision!” Jill countered. “You think she left town all smiley-face and mentally gave us the middle finger? No, She is hiding and not from Umbrella… but from reality. If you lost Claire because of a well-meant act that turned out to be a big mistake, don’t tell me you wouldn’t hate yourself?”

“Carmen isn’t me.” A vain argument, but he wouldn’t let Jill win without a fight.

“No, but she is still human. She makes mistakes. As much as Umbrella might have tried to make her believe otherwise.”

He had avoided staring at the little office to their right. An office that was being avoided by any surviving STARS member as if the plague was housing there. Fitting, Chris had thought for a while, until he had avoided even looking at it, but now his eyes forced him to look inside it. Silence spread out. Even the damn clock was quiet. He didn’t hear the ticking anymore.

“I will call the university again. Dig a bit deeper. Perhaps something will come up.” As much as Jill tried to hide it, the triumphant smile was visible to his eyes.

The white towel brought forth a long hiss from her. She glared at the broken bottle on the floor, cursing it. The burn over her palm ached through her arm, but where she had expected the cut to run deep, running sharp pulses through her hand, the pain subsided. Maybe the cut isn’t so deep.

Carmen lifted the towel, peeking under it, but as soon as the cloth left her palm, new fresh blood swelled up.

The sound of flesh being torn, pierced by a dull rock. The smell is metallic—and sickly sweet. She barely reached the bathroom in time, as bile creeped up her throat, landing in the toilet. She hadn’t eaten much, except for a dry toast—and some sleeping pills.

Her open hair stuck to her neck again, sweat breaching through her skin and the quick glance in front of her, made her gag. It looked too much like the bodily fluids that mixed with the blood of that Umbrella worker—the first one she had killed with rock outside the dormitories. Her fingers trembled, as she wiped over her face, getting rid of the blood splattered on it. Of the blood that didn’t want to get off her face, no matter how often she’d wash it.

Carmen swayed when she stood up, ignoring the sharp pinch in her injured hand as she leaned on it for support. She needed water. It had to come off. She had enough of this.

In the cold, flickering light of the bathroom, the water had a greenish color for a second. She pressed her eyes together. The deep breath anything but refreshing helped from making her turn around again, emptying her stomach for another time. Carmen kept her eyes closed as she splashed the cold water into her face with her uninjured hand. The other gripped for the bathroom sink’s edge. Her blood was dripping on the floor.

Her heart began to race, her chest so tight, Carmen thought she’d drown. There was just not enough air in this damn room. She heard her scream.

But it was hers. The reality of the dirty motel bathroom hit her, as the pain of her hand reached her hand. Her dark eyes stared to her left. She had hit her injured hand against the wall. A bloody handprint covered the formerly white tiles in a dark crimson and as much as this picture conjured other memories, the deep sting had brought her from the edge of another attack. She was a wreck.

The red hoodie cared less about being strained than the white top she wore underneath. The walk to the twin-sized bed in the next room came closer to that of a robot than a human taking these steps. She didn’t care how miserable she might look. As her back hit the mattress which smelled of mold and other things she didn’t want to think about, she ignored her still aching hand, which came to hate her with every passing second. Carmen was too tired to stand up and wrap a clean bandage around it. It would stop bleeding eventually. She just needed some sleep first.

“Hey, lady!”

Her eyes spread open. Has she been sleeping already? Another hit against the door. Carmen looked out the window. It was raining. Had it been raining when she came to bed?

“Hey! Here is someone searching for—” The words of the motel owner were cut off and any thought of sleep vanished from her thoughts. It was hard to hear much from the door, some thunder rang in the distance, but she did hear a key turning.

They found me. She should have left town when she had the chance.

It was instinct. Pure instinct, even though there might be a chance they catch her on the way. The key fumbled in the hole and without second thought, she ran to the window. It screeched loudly as she ripped it open, but she was out quickly. The summer rain was ice cold against her naked skin and her black hair got stuck to her skin. Away! Somewhere. Not the road.

The big neon sign which shone ‘Sunset Motel’ in bright letters. Only 10 bucks the night. And a chatty owner in it for free. She couldn’t think about this now. There was nothing. A clean wheat field and the long road away from Raccoon City. Nowhere she could run. Not if Umbrella came in squads. But she had too.

Her boots splashed through the built puddles, running around the building. A passing car blinded her, as she peeked around the corner. Carmen shook her head, blinking thrice before observing the front of the motel. No vans, no cars with Umbrella logos. Nothing. The motel had been empty the last two days. Then she saw it. A green jeep.

“You’re lacking.”

Carmen jumped around and hit—with her injured right hand. The only one starting to wince, was her, as the man caught her wrist and stepped to the side before it could have made contact with his face. She wanted to scream and slash at him, even bite if it would make him let her go, until her eyes adjusted to the night and the rain.

“Redfield?” She didn’t sound surprised, rather tired, but it quickly changed, as she noticed his stern, impenetrable face.

“Disappointed? You want me to call Umbrella and tell them where you were hiding these two weeks?” He hissed at her, stressed and pissed off. She tucked her hand back, but his grip was firm. “So far for helping us.”

“Let me go.” Her voice was barely even there, drowned out by the splattering rain around them. Drenching them both to the bone.

“Then what? You leave town and all that shit you helped fabricate behind?”

“Let me go!” This time, even the rain couldn’t silence her plea, but she wasn’t sure it was only her words causing him to lose his grip on her. Chris had spotted the cut on her hand.

“Where did you get that?” He asked and Carmen tucked her hand back for the last time, freeing herself. His features were falling softer, but it might just be the looming shadows in which they stood. She had barely even recognised him.

“Not your shit,” Carmen replied. Chris rolled his eyes, before he nodded to the green jeep a few feet beside them.

“Come, I’ll take you somewhere else. Umbrella might know you are here.”

“I can take care of myself,” she mumbled, turning around to get back to her room, but Chris caught her elbow holding her back. They had moved into the light and for the first time, she could see his face more lit. His eyes were fiery, fed up with her and even if his grip on her didn’t hurt, it was clear he was serious.

“Today, two missing reports came in for you. One by your mother, the other from Umbrella. One of them goes beyond this county. If you think you can do this alone, you’re dumber than I thought.” His words punctuated with every sybille, it reached Carmen’s bones as she spoke of Umbrella. Missing reports?

“What do you mean? Why a missing report?”

Chris caught her lack of interest for her mother, brows furrowing. “Umbrella has to lay low for a while. The press is going hard on them and a missing report with a big reward gives them a nicer look than a direct hunt for you.”

Her muscles tensed, her arm tight inside his hand. “How did you find me?”

Chris sighed and his grip loosened without breaking the contact with her fully. “Another cop told me about a call from a motel owner who said he harbored a young woman who had arrived with bruises and cuts, and paid him fifty bucks to keep it between them. He gave me one hour before the report from that call would be given forward.”

“Asshole, and I paid in advance,” Carmen scoffed.  “And what now? It basically means everyone with some trouble on their bank accounts might rat me out to Umbrella.”

“You come with me, for a start. Then we’ll see.” Chris let go of her arm, his eyes falling to her right hand again. “I need to take a look at that.”

#story: city of the dead #story: saints & sinners #misc: writing #chris redfield x ofc #chris redfield fanfiction #resident evil fanfiction #oc: carmen lopez #character: chris redfield #( finally it is written and i have to say i do like how it turned out! ) #userarklay #userswordcoasts #usermandalhoerian #usergirlbosselrond #writing*

[ryo-maybe]

Ho postato 40.162 volte nel 2022

Sono 9.327 post in più del 2021!

1.698 post creati (4%)

38.464 post rebloggati (96%)

Blog che ho rebloggato di più:

@coolyo294

@yukariyakumofficial

@turbobyakuren

@hetare-ttk

@haropla

Ho taggato 2.779 dei miei post nel 2022

#rinnequest - 160 post

#ryo of the rebellion - 42 post

#holy shit - 27 post

#yeah - 22 post

#uriel asks - 16 post

#ew spoilers - 12 post

#fragment bits - 11 post

#yukariyakumofficial - 11 post

#shb spoilers - 11 post

#starlight spoilers - 10 post

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#which is actually an inflatable animal that i want to see poked until all the empty air has gone out and left behind a delicious nugget of h

I miei post migliori nel 2022:

#5

1.444 note - Postate 19 agosto 2022

#4

I love Ryouichi Ikegami’s style a whole damn lot because you could pick any panel of his and it’d make for a perfect reaction picture because he draws characters like this:

1.554 note - Postate 25 ottobre 2022

#3

I think it's neat when characters, regardless of gender, age or anything else, are pathetic but less in a "spineless harem isekai self-insert" and more in a "couple (literal or metaphorical) years away from a middle age crisis, dark circles around the eyes that contribute to making them look like a raccoon too tired to sift through the trash, which they can't even afford anyway" kind of way, you feel me

1.606 note - Postate 5 giugno 2022

#2

can u explain why AI art is bad without fearmongering, moralizing or bootlicking lol

I'm going to answer in good faith, even though the tone you're using sounds like you're harboring anything but. The issue with AI art isn't specifically inherent to the tools used to produce it, because, ultimately, a tool is merely that: something devoid of will which, in the hands of a human, can produce a specific outcome. It's the human element that taints what we could otherwise enjoy for the unquestioningly fascinating topic that is AI art and, by extension, AI software as a whole.

Now, the problem isn't people, period, but the kind of people that are responsible for giving AI the bad rep it's been getting, along with the intent that goes into both the development of AI tools and the things produced by dint of said tools. I'm talking about the tech bros happily rubbing their hands, waiting to provide business moguls with a brand new means to commodify and mass-produce what artists stake their entire livelihoods upon, because when you have enough zeroes lined up in your bank account, your eyes are utterly blinded to the soul and personality that human beings put into their handiwork, and which a machine won't ever be able to reproduce no matter how much stolen art you feed it. Oh yeah, by the way, that's how AI art tools have been making the rounds: by chewing on thousands upon thousands of stolen pictures made by actual people so that they may learn how to ape someone's style and spit out absolutely soulless derivatives, while the original authors don't see a lick of recognition or monetary retribution for any of it. Do I need to tell you why stealing and parading someone else's art as your own is a terrible, vile thing to do?

But sure, you did ask me to refrain from "fearmongering, moralizing or bootlicking", which I guess I've already done. So since you'd rather I skipped straight to the point in a concise manner, lemme offer some quick examples of why the culture surrounding AI art has already developed into one of the most abysmally disappointing displays of how greed and an utter lack of human decency can ruin something objectively brimming with possibilities:

Less than a week after the sudden death of Korean artist Kim Jung-gi, someone trained an AI model to mimic his artstyle, having the audacity of asking for credits if anyone wished to use it. I sincerely hope I don't have to explain to you why this is a ghoulish example of the kind of tone-deafness sported by tech bros who buy wholesale into the AI art craze.

A piece of AI art was submitted to an art contest and won. The "artist"'s work amounted to little more than picking a series of prompts and letting the machine do the work. It's as much art as googling a smattering of terms and making a collage of pictures taken from Pinterest (and even then, you would have put more work into it than this person did). That they won at all says a whole damn lot about how abysmal the respect given to artists - real artists - nowadays is.

There are a multitude of people out there already selling prints of AI-generated art. I could link some of them here, but honestly, type "ai art prints" on a search engine and you'll get inundated by them. I've seen and personally know artists who have had to undersell their works because commissions were the only thin, frayed string they could hang on in hopes of making it through the week without fucking starving themselves, but here we are: any random asshole can now yell "MASSIVE BREASTS, THIN WAIST, COCKTAIL DRESS, HUGE BADONGAS" at a computer, let it mash together a trillion of other people's hard work, and print it for easy bucks that the actual authors of the basic ingredients of their insipid soup will never, ever see a dime of.

It really bothers me that you mentioned "no bootlicking". Whose fucking boots is this side of the debate supposedly tasting? That of the artists who post every day about how angry, sad and terrified they are by the prospects of what the development of AI art will entail for their livelihood and passion? What kind of gall did your mother birth you with that you have the spiteful spunk to type that word, when you've got shit like an artist who had their sketch stolen while they were drawing it on stream, then fed to an AI and posted by someone passing it off as their own art? How does that not ignite your indignation? "Bootlicking". Like anyone's tongues have been tasting leather but those of the same tech bro chodes who kept trying oh so hard to convince us NFTs were the future while ruining the environment to make the absolute stupidest point ever made in the history of humanity.

7.769 note - Postate 17 ottobre 2022

Il mio post numero 1 del 2022

Since Tumblr wants to be a bitch, here’s a timestamped link to the jugglers doing working their magic in front of the Pope while Megalovania plays in the background. No this wasn’t edited. It’s a livestream

14.532 note - Postate 5 gennaio 2022

Guarda ora l'Analisi del tuo anno 2022 di Tumblr →

#what in the goddamn is that tag #also damn 160 posts in rinne's tags...

[arethereanyoriginalusernames]

Top seven of Arcaina Project + Tales Untold characters that Give! Me! Life!

You know those bitches that decide to make a top five of a mutual’s characters? Yes you do. Because I am bitches.

I was only going to do 5 but I ended up with 7 because… look, @nyxcharliechaos has a lot of babs and ITS HARD FOR ME TO CHOOSE ALREADY OK??? Also Tumblr started glitching as soon as I got to 7 images… that too.

Also, this is in no real order. It’s already hard to pick favourites, don’t make me rank them!

One more thing- admittedly this will be biased towards characters I know/remember more about. In case you haven’t caught on to how fucking unhinged this is going to be, it’s not going to be judging characters on quality. Anyways, y’all ready to be bitches with me?

1. Lucy

See tall person in picture above

First, I think Lu was the first of Charlie’s characters I ever drew (I drew her looking like a hedgehog slurping noodles), so already some minor nostalgia vibes. I also like the one, emo-scene raccoon stripe hair piece she’s got. She’s actually got some low key late 2000s scene kid hair that’s kind of a vibe. The relationship between her and Nyx is extremely cute, and while I would have maybe made her look more muscular, you could argue that her… less than ideal eating habits would probably make it harder to develop muscle. Also she needs earrings. Don’t ask me why. She just does. I’m getting the vibe she needs earrings.

2. Nyx (shorter character in image above)

Probably the second character I ever tried to draw. Also a character that has appeared in various rps to commit various shenanigans. Given the backstory they’ve got, I do enjoy the puppet motif they’ve got in their design and powers a lot. I also think it’s neat that given how nobody else in the Arcaina Project looks like Nyx, no matter what colour their hair + eyes change to (and they change a lot) you can still tell that yeah, it’s Nyx and not some other bitch. Their deadpan reaction to more exuberant characters is a lot of fun, and overall it seems like they’ve got some pretty cool character arcs planned out

3. Molly

Look, I’m someone who already tends to like characters like Molly, and based on RPs and arts and whatnot, Molly just seems like fun. I also love the clothing choices, and the overall craziness going on personality wise. Not much to say, admittedly, it’s just a case of “yeah, I like em”. Although I think Molly, being the mad hatter’s kid, should have a hat made out of Campbell’s Soup cans. Idk, I just think it’s a good idea.

4. Virgil

Firstly, yes bitch, work that makeup. Now that’s out of the way, I do like the colour pallet of a bunch of dark colours then just one super bright pink that often gets used. Like with Nyx, since nobody else in Arcaina really has that going on with them, you can just slap hot pink next to a black and it’s like “oh yeah, fucking Virgin Creek, let’s go”. I think I like Virgil most based off of RPs he’s been in, and some of the stories he’s been in I’d say have been some of Charlie’s best, so… yeah. Also he eats cardboard. Automatic fav.

5. Odd

Frankly, I think I just relate to Odd in an oddly specific way, pun intended. Like… I get the reason she sleeps a lot is bc health issues, but like…. Listen, if you’ve ever done ballet, you KNOW what it’s like to wake up the next morning feeling like you’ve been hit by a fucking truck. I nearly typed trucking fuck. Whatever. Anyways, I do like the design and this may sound… odd, but I like the eyes. I noticed during an art I did of Odd that her eyes are a neat mix of brown and green. Also she has ice cream hair.

…. I mean… am I wrong???

6. Rowan

I think a lot of my enjoyment of Rowan comes from RPs, what with the shenanigans of them trying to hide that they’re part wolf and all. I also like that they have this kinda fancy, fantasy-ish cloak and hood that has this little red Diamond on it… then just clothes you’d find at the Gap. Idk, I just find it amusing for some reason. Also wolf canines are pretty neat, and I do like the hair… except when I’m doing an art with Rowan in it, and I actually have to draw it. Look, I normally don’t have anything against hair streaks, BUT…

Anyways tldr, I just think Rowan’s neat.

7. Lyric

Ok so probably not best art to use since this is older Lyric but I couldn’t find one of current lyric without wifi going haha no. I know, much tragic. Anyways, I like the hair that’s like “no I’m never behaving what do you mean?”, I like a lot of the outfits Lyric gets drawn in (by Charlie. My wardrobe contributions are very much a hot take), I enjoy their interactions with characters like Nyx, and… yeah I just like them.

————

Was this just a list of me naming characters and being like Yeah I like them? Yes, yes it was.

Also this totally wasn’t based off of characters that I could actually explain why I like them because I like all the babs even if most of them are very sad, what are you talking about?

I don’t know how to end this at all.

….

….

Someone put a Jack o lantern in my bathtub.

Have a nice day.

- Spooky S Skeletons

[darckcarnival]

☠ For Darck ;3c

Send “☠” for my muse to tell your’s a bad memory.

@valour-bound

Silence, was something that could be so comfortable. Especially when in trusted company. Merely to have a friend there to ease tension and weight for a time in the hectic reality of this world, and what hides in it's many corners. That didn't really matter right now of course. Not with the occasional conversation and coffee, sitting at a table in the man's apartment as he looked over BSAA papers.

Quiet had settled in with a hum then, comfortable.

Until dark eyes behind purple lenses settled upon a familiar picture in it's frame. Two, actually.

Across the room, there and clear as day, were the two photographs that Darck had given the man for the holidays. That photo from when she had ben so much younger, before the never ending nightmare had begun for any of them, young and all laughs- sat right next to that faded older photograph of S.T.A.R.S, maybe one of the only ones left in the world. It hadn't been easy to get hold of, and perhaps had been simply a spur of the moment desperation to claim anything to keep while she'd been in the shadows.

Watching. Waiting. Trapped.

"I was there, you know." The comfortable quiet was broken then, like one took a fine glass and shattered it upon tile, to echo and carry the sound of it far longer than it ever should be. Weight on those simple words. A pause to attempt finding more, like the voice wanted to flee, to curl away from anything that may pull it out to speak once more, a knee jerk fear to keep everything so quiet, not give insight. Sure, some of them had theories of how much Darck was aware of, others knew her tendencies to be around. But just how far that went, how deep the proverbial rabbit hole, well, many were not quite so aware. And Chris was one of them.

The coffee mug suddenly lifted then, one long drink of it's energizing liquid taken. Before it clanked back down as if in a movement of finality. Acceptance. Eyes still locked upon those old pictures across the room. "For all of it." As always cryptic in her words, at least at first. It did always take time for her to explain, but she did. Never leaving things without proper understanding even if approached in the oddest way. It was then that the shorter brunette's head turned, eyes looking upon Chris with an odd knowing clarity, more than usual at any rate. "The training building, the mansion. Then Raccoon City. Europe. Rockfort Island. For six god damn months, I saw it all, with no other option. So I have an intimate knowledge of how it all went down. How else could I have gotten that picture?" She was there before it all went tits up, after all. Swiped that right out of the god damned office.

"The shadows, I was stuck. I saw everything from a third party perspective, but was there... I tried to help, you know? Left some rooms safer than others, or tried to block things from following, darkening shadows to hide, or block doors... Move items around to be found, whatever I could. I was limited, but there none the less. Admittedly, it gave me a bad habit of continuing to watch, and be around, just out of sight and out of mind."

Another silence stretched on then, uncomfortable by contrast to how this all started. What once had been a crippling fear that had sent a young lady launching across the room from just a movie, had then been seen in real time. At the same time, it had broken that terror of those things into nothing but a numb bitter anger.

Darck didn't like telling anyone these facts, knowing it never ended well. Not once. But still... The urge to at least give him an insight, especially after his poor memory... Well...

"So... If you need anyone to talk to, about any of it. Anything? I understand, and am here, you know." As if she didn't need anyone to talk to, offering the other way around.

#Work Invoice :: Asks #valour-bound #ever the soldier :: valour bound #Creeper Gonna Creep :: Darck In Character #(( she hates telling how she knows all this shit. )) #(( its not just a passing hobby to see things. )) #(( it was very much trapped in it. )) #(( trauma and forced repeated exposure is one way to get over a fear. ))

[temporoyales]

Rubik's anon again,

You know that reflection thing raccoons have with their eyes? What if hobbits did too? Imagine the dwarves reactions... especially the tough ones like Thorin and Dwalin.

😂 😂 😂 😂  I am like 100% sure this is canon and I refuse to believe otherwise

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #dwalin #Anonymous #ask #myart #have you ever looked up pictures of raccoons in the dark? #it's great #anon

[fruggo]

Hi hi can I req Danny, Leon and Steve with a male s/o who's a real goofy guy? Cracks jokes during chases, just can't take things too seriously, laid back and chill guy who prioritizes having fun

absolutely, thanks for requesting!! :D this is cute haha. i hope you like it!

danny, leon, and steve with goofy m!s/o

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

danny would consider himself a pretty fun guy, though perhaps his idea of fun would not be the same as a normal person's. so i wouldn't take his word for it if i were you.

honestly? he thinks you're the shit. he genuinely likes your bad dad jokes great puns, will banter back and forth with you, and he might even give you the hatch instead of a mori. although he would love to have your picture, it can wait until the next trial. or the next if he still doesn't feel like it. who knows?

he likes that you're not too serious about everything. since danny is the entity's golden boy, he never has to worry about anything! he likes it here! and it's cool that someone else has a similar mindset about things. although he might have misunderstood "making the best of the situation and just being a goofy person" for "liking it here". you never really clarified which one it was, and why should he ask?

when danny finds out that you act basically the same way with all the killers, cracking jokes and laughing things off in chases, he gets all pouty. he thought he was special. well, looks like you're getting that mori now.

he still likes you though, and he gives you even more special attention now in the form of tunneling and camping! he means well <3 (no he doesn't he is a little bitch and a loser)

but then he hears stories from the other killers about you, and is pleased to find that you are significantly more fun with him, and, dare i say, flirty!

but he still wants to tunnel and camp you.

when you realize what he's doing, you don't get mad about it. what's the point? in fact you think it's really funny.

the first time danny proximity-camped you, you found it rewarding to just talk and talk and talk until he finally talked back. it took a while, but he did finally respond.

you would just say dumb shit, and then you would say more dumb shit, and then it got annoying and danny had to tell you to shut up. and then you would just dramatically whisper something like "okay, pissbaby."

and danny thought maybe he should be angry with you, but he just wasn't. he couldn't be mad at you, because even if he was, you wouldn't care. you weren't scared of him.

so when he finally left and you got unhooked, he tunneled you obviously. it makes sense, okay?

"wow, am i that handsome and gorgeous and attractive?" you monologued while smashing a pallet onto danny's head. "i'm really just so irresistible that you want to tunnel me? honestly, danny, i'm flattered. i'm touched."

danny couldn't remember since when you were on a first name basis, but he let it slide. just because maybe he thinks you are that handsome and gorgeous and attractive.

dude danny is kinda fucked up but like. he's funny. and charming. and he also let you take off his mask once, and so now you know he's also hot. he has a few things going for him as long as you ignore the part where he chases you with a knife.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘

leon, our favorite rookie :D he's so cute!!! sorry im gushing i just cant resist i love him !!

and you love him too, so much. that's why you accidentally distract him during trials by goofing off and almost getting him killed

it's out of love. leon knows that. you don't really mean to.

while leon's doing a generator, you are probably somewhere nearby trying to find something even remotely interesting to do. and that might involve climbing a tree, then falling out of the tree. but it wasnt your fault! you swore the crows were attacking you, they didn't want you up in that tree because they knew you were just so cool up there and the Entity couldn't have somebody being better and hotter and funnier than itself so high in the sky.

leon could only smile and shake his head, inspecting you for the wounds you inevitably had. when you said you were fine, he was very skeptical, because your version of fine was never the same as his.

the killer knew where you were now because of your very loud "FUCK!" as the crows supposedly attacked you and forced you out of the tree, so you immediately put on your game face and got ready to command some attention.

leon said no, you were not in the right headspace to get chased. you only shrugged at him, slapped his ass, and ran towards the killer yelling, "HEY YOU WANNA HEAR AN AGGIE JOKE?"

leon was used to this by now, and he found it rather endearing. you were an enigma to him, really. how you could be so laid back about this whole murder-die-sacrifice thing was beyond him, but it was refreshing. he liked your enthusiasm.

since he had just come from raccoon city, he was still in his "i have to do the right thing and save everybody because it's my duty" kind of mood. you made sure to lighten up that burden and remind him that it's okay to chill sometimes, and he can't save everybody, especially not here. if you were in a particularly bad trial, you always made sure to get him to crack a smile.

likewise, leon wasn't always too jazzed about your "funny guy gets killed so the team can live" complex. he knew you didn't care, or at least you said you didn't, but he still hated that you constantly sacrificed yourself and acted like it was no big deal. to him, it was. he hated going back to the campfire alone and waiting forever for you to show up again; he cared about you and it hurt to see you sacrifice yourself so much even if he knew you would return.

leon didn't have a stick up his ass or anything--he had his fair share of humorous moments (i mean have you seen infinite darkness ashdjshdf that man just wants love and food). he just wants to save everybody, you included. it's frustrating to come to terms with the fact that he can't.

he loves it when he can hear you yelling at the killer mid-chase from afar, be it a pun or a swear or both. you've even influenced him to crack his own jokes while being chased sometimes--it comes out more often if he's being tunneled. if you ever happened to see him do it, you would wipe a fake tear from your face and start clapping. you were very proud of your rookie.

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

the killers hated you and steve, and i mean like despised you

you were so chill. and for what???? why do you have chill???? nobody else has chill, what makes you think you deserve to have chill????

they could never make you angry and that made them super angry

you and steve would quip back and forth between chases, sometimes going so far as to pretend the killer is not there and talk about something like what kind of cheese you missed eating the most. let me tell you, that did not make the trickster happy.

he was a star!! a star, and here you two little shits were, ignoring him to talk about cheese. honestly, the audacity.

you and steve ran to the killer shack with the trickster on your heels, still talking about cheese. how the conversation had gone on this long was a mystery, and it continued to be a mystery while the two of you shared a chase in the shack.

steve was very happy to have found someone to share his sentiments with. everybody was so serious all the time, and while he was similar to leon with his altruistic streaks, he was slightly less responsible and occasionally enjoyed doing dumb stunts just for shits and giggles.

you can bet that whenever you are in a trial together, it's a competition to see who can hold the killer's attention longer. your teammates don't mind--all they have to do is complete gens, so their job is fairly easy. and it's always entertaining to catch sight of one of you sprinting with a new flashlight in your hand to go annoy the crap out of the killer.

there's no question that steve would die for you a hundred times over, and you would do the same for him. you didn't see it as a very big deal--you didn't see anything here as a very big deal. steve was the only important thing you had, really, and you cared for him a lot. saving him? kapeesh. no sweat.

scenario: steve is being chased, you throw yourself in front of him, the killer has noed, you are hooked, you give him a thumbs up as you die, he flips you off because why the fuck would you die for him what is wrong with you he's supposed to die for you and you know that?? why would you do that???? great, now steve gets to escape and it's all your fault.

you would simply smile. he was so cute sometimes.

#requests #fruggo writes #dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd #dead by daylight #danny johnson x reader #ghostface x reader #leon kennedy x reader #steve harrington x reader #headcanons #dbd headcanons

[ashiemochi]

aphrotitty - xxxviii (ii)

✠ Aphrotitty ↳ Don’t do anything stupid ↳↳ does something stupid

~~ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ~~ genre: fluff, a slice of life, angst, gore at some point, smut/suggestive themes ~~ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters LIGHT MODE TEXTS = day time DARK MODE TEXTS = night time

prev -> next

It was a Sunday morning around ten o’clock; Christmas Day. It was drizzling that day with the sun peeking through the clouds occasionally. Yawning audibly as his feet made contact with the cool wooden floors, his fresh-out-of-sleep eyes were still half-closed and Leon made his way to the kitchen.

Ever since that night where he held her close for comfort from his nightmare, sleeping was getting a bit easier. He’d never be able to forget that traumatizing night in Raccoon City – but the lingering nightmares were lessening and it was great. Still, grumbles left his lips, recalling the last time he had slept without that night looming over his head like some persistent vulture.

As the coffee machine was heating up his wake-up drink, Leon looked out of his window to hers.

Her kitchen was empty but if he could squint, he could see traces of her like a used mug on the counter and a lone plastic wrapper of some candy next to it. Humming, he could only guess her parents were either on the way or have already arrived.

Leon shut off the beeping coffee machine and poured himself a cup as his free hand dug into his pocket, fishing out his phone. As he took a sip of his coffee, his fingers tapped onto the screen while he walked to his fridge to figure out what to eat for a Christmas breakfast.

✠

It’s been two hours since that text and all Leon got was the small read mark; So Ah had seen his text. It did confuse him that he didn’t receive a reply back but he assumed she was busy with her folks. She did tell him, according to her mother’s tone, they were planning on spending the entire day at her place – but she also told him she’d update him.

Having made his way back into the kitchen for an afternoon snack, he couldn’t help but look into her kitchen again.

It was the same as two hours ago, but cleaner with the mug and the wrapper being put away. His hands fumbled with the plastic-wrapped pop-tart with a tilted head in curiosity at the uncharacteristic behaviour before he returned to the living room.

He flopped down onto the couch with a huff and located his phone; maybe a quick check-up doesn’t hurt, right?

He sent her a picture of his feet propped up onto the coffee table with the TV playing a classic Christmas movie, Home Alone, and his pop tart was photo-bombing the overall thing.

The socks were part of the box that her friend had sent her. Somehow, the socks were a lot bigger than the other ones; somehow, they were his size; and somehow, they were blue – his favourite colour. They had patterned snowmen with white Christmas bells.

Setting his phone aside, Leon returned his attention to the movie but his mind was trailing away to her every few seconds. Then his eyes caught the gift on the wall and he nearly bounced onto his feet, picking it up to set it onto the couch.

It was Christmas Day after all; meaning gifts time.

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s see what you worked on.” He spoke with a grin as he peeled open the gift wrap, having put aside the note for safe-keeping. Letting out a huff, he flipped the canvas around and almost let out a gasp at the painting.

The oranges of the sky with purples and yellows blending in and having soft golden clouds scattered aside were the most eye-pleasing choice of colours he had ever seen. The mountains were in dark brown-purple-red, being smudged roughly just right.

The details on the city were immense, every nook and cranny had shading and lighting; giving everything dynamicity. Even the buildings and sky-scrapers had bright yellows in their windows, making the piece pop out more.

It was the day of the motorcycle ride; also the day when she had kissed him goodnight. The note was not over-exaggerating one bit at having a piece of his safe place in his house.

As gently as possible, the tips of his fingers traced the colours, feeling the roughness of the canvas and could practically trace the way the paintbrush had moved. He could just imagine how long it took, having as minimal knowledge as a carrot about art; but he did remember her saying something about how oil paint is a lot more complex to work with and takes longer to dry.

He was touched, a chuckle leaving his smile.

“Oh, you, beautiful thing...” He uttered before finally looking up to find the perfect place to hang it. Settling on the space above the whiskey table and drawer, he went to his kitchen to get his tools.

After nails were hammered in by using math for symmetry, another huff of air escaped his throat when he picked up the painting, “Humph, you’re a heavy one, aren’t ya?”

Moments later, it was finally up and as straight as can be. He took a few steps back with his hands on his hips and a stupid grin on his face at the painting. Snapping a picture of the wall, he sent it to her with a text; look what I got ;)

“You never cease to amaze me, So Ah...”

✠

Around three in the afternoon, the drizzling had stopped and Leon was getting ready to head out for his weekly grocery trip. His keys giggled in his hand as he made his way to the kitchen to grab the grocery list that he almost forgot on the counter. Glancing over into her kitchen – still the same and a frown made its way to his lips.

He left his house through the garage door and he got into his car, turning the ignition on to reverse a little. He thanked all the Gods for having an automated garage door because even the thought of having a manual lever-on-the-wall one seemed like such a hassle – that being said, the garage gate slid up and he moved out.

His eyes turned away from behind him to look at her house. No new or fancy cars were out to indicate that such high valued families were in this simple neighbourhood. He guessed that they might’ve gotten a driver to get them here; just like Minji with her own personal driver.

Shaking his head a little at the sudden impulsive plan of physically checking up on her, he chose to drive off. If anything, she did say she’d update him about anything.

✠

Having done with his groceries, ate lunch, cleaned up around and had a warm shower, it was seven in the evening – and still no reply from his sweetheart next door. He even took a picture of his nerve plant to show her how much it has grown and sent a video of him spraying it with water, calling it a thirsty dramatic bitch in the background.

To busy his mind with something else, Leon chose to check his emails and surprise, surprise; the DSO had finally replied back. It was a surprise because it is the holidays, meaning almost everyone had a day off – but guess no rest for the Division of Security Organization’s agents and secretaries.

Taking a gulp from his cool extra-shot-of-brandy eggnog to mentally prepare him for this, he clicked on the email and began reading.

We deeply apologize for the late response and for having to send this during the Holidays as the investigators are wrapping up their work from Green Life. According to their findings and research, they had concluded the corporation was found innocent as no samples of the virus ‘The Plaga’ from the cult in Spain known as Los Illuminados were found. Additionally, the undercover unit returned empty-handed – having said it was a normal pharmaceutical corporation with no connection whatsoever to any cult.

In the end, we’re sending out FOS protection for the Han members; Michael Han, Sena Kim, Jaehyun Han, Minji Han, and So Ah Han. In the meantime, we suspect a third party had attempted to frame Green Life, so we are working to get to the bottom of it. Fortunately, all members of the Han family are in the United States from what we’ve found. With you, Agent Kennedy, being nearest to So Ah Han, your orders are to keep her safe and have an eye out for any suspicious behaviour in the neighbourhood.

Happy Holidays, Agent Kennedy; we expect a report back about any abnormalities.

“Shit...” A curse sighed its way out as he leaned back against the couch, rereading the email over and over again.

It was one thing for Green Life to be innocent no matter how suspicious they seemed – but to have a third-party involved?

That shit was icing on cake.

What Leon concluded from the email was someone had it out for the corporation, which meant someone had a personal vendetta against the Han family. He could only wait for an email back with any new findings of the situation – and that itself seemed stressful.

Now his mind was urging him to check on So Ah.

She had been quiet the entire day and all his texts were marked as read. His phone vibrated twice with a chat notification dinging, snapping him out of his thoughts. Rushing to check the notification, he nearly sighed in relief; she texted back.

The texts were dry; clearly unlike her but he’d take anything at this point.

“What the hell?” Leon muttered in confusion then set the laptop down and jogged up the stairs to his bedroom; knowing her bedroom showed through his window. He looked out of the window with the phone in hand in case she replies back; it was dark.

Either she was already in bed when she sent him that text or she was the fastest girl alive to brush her teeth and jump straight into her dreamland.

Frowning with the crease between his brows growing, he found it strange. Glancing at his phone and more specifically at the call icon, he tapped it and watched it ring then pressed it to his ear.

A light in her room caught his eyes; so she was in bed. Then a faint hand in the dark, being only illuminated by the ringing phone, reached out to the vibrating device. Darkness returned to the room and the call in his phone showed that the line was busy.

Something was definitely wrong.

#leon kennedy x reader smut #resident evil infinite darkness #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy gif #leon scott kenney #dbd fanfic #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy imagines #resident evil memes #dbd memes #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic

[ohmysparkle]

Stray Kids as Stray Cats

A cute little thing I thought of

* Length: 1.3K

* Warnings: none

* Genre: fluff

🐈‍⬛ ♦️ 🐈‍⬛ ♦️ 🐈‍⬛ ♦️ 🐈‍⬛ ♦️ 🐈‍⬛ ♦️ 🐈‍⬛ ♦️ 🐈‍⬛

Chan:

This good catto looks nice and healthy. He’s a large striped gray cat with shiny short fur and a good healthy weight. He’s not overly affectionate but he’s always up for a head pat or two. Gets along with all of the other cats in the neighborhood and makes sure no one gangs up on the kittens. Bodega owners love him, and a few of them think he’s their bodega cat.

But actually… he isn’t a stray. He has a mommy and daddy and they don’t put a collar on him because they know he’s a responsible boy that comes back home alright. They don’t really bother to clarify to anyone that Chansie is a house cat - they let him enjoy his social life.

Minho:

That one bitch of a cat that’s too damn gorgeous to be a stray but he is. He's a big boy with a long black coat that's ultra shiny. Gorgeous green eyes. You think he’s probably mixed with Maine Coon because of his size and fur.

This mf walks around like he owns the neighborhood, and he kinda does. Girls love stopping to take pictures of him for instagram, and he just lies there like he doesn’t care, giving those instacat angles and looking all fine. Probably has five kitty-mommies and he has evaded multiple attempts of capture from shelters that try to keep his bad boy from filling the streets with his furry babies. No way Jose, Min-hoe isn’t letting some human neuter his prized jewels away.

Changbin:

A very unique brown cat, shortish hair. He looks super plump and cute, has a nice round body with short and thick legs that make you want to PAT PAT the kitty. To your misfortune, baby boy BinBin HATES being pet. You resign yourself to looking at him from a distance, and he looks back indifferently with his petty yellow eyes.

BinBin is a clever cat, he’s made his home in an old lady’s garden. She puts food out for him and he’s got a nice little lawn full of flowers to lounge on, and when it’s rainy he has a little outdoor cat house to stay dry and warm. He was quite smart in picking this particular old lady though; she’s got bad knees and can't crouch down to pet him, plus she splurges on the best cat food since she has no grandchildren.

Hyunjin:

One evening, you’re stepping out of your shower when you’re met with a set of glimmering green eyes from atop the dresser. At first, you scream. Upon further inspection, you realize that it’s a slinky black cat in the dark…

You do not own a cat. How the fuck did this creature get in?

The moment you try to parley with this pussy to try to shoo him out, he rubs up against you and purrs. A lot. Then he does that little thing with his paws that looks like he’s kneading bread, and when you pick him up he snuggles into your neck.

One trip to the vet to get his shots and his boy parts snipped later, and Jinnie is now a house cat. 10/10 will give you a heart attack because he will run away at any chance but come back a few hours later with a dead bird. Loves expensive toys and pretty collars with bells. Very playful and frisky.

Jisung:

Everyone in the neighborhood has a love-hate relationship with this white kitty named JiJi. His fur is short and should be all pearly but this cat is always FILTHY, loves rolling around the wet grass on sunny days, does not let ANY volunteers take him in for a bath. Totally dumpster dives. Both ears are missing their tips: one was from a vet visit where he got vaccinated and neutered, the other from a 5:1 dumpster battle against raccoons.

Often pounces on outdoor restaurant tables and will grab a bite of food - whether by charity or by force. Loves pizza and cheesy things. If he sees a hooman lady, will lay on lap. Hates boy hoomans. Loves scaring people by sitting in the window above their kitchen sinks so that whenever they look up they’re suddenly greeted face to face with a weird cat.

Bites and chases any untied shoelaces.

Tl;dr: terrorizes entire neighborhood but he’s a cat so in the end everyone just goes “aww”.

Felix:

One evening you’re walking home. It’s late and dark and it's been raining and you’re just keeping your head down trying to get home asap so a serial killer doesn’t happen upon you.

But then, right in the middle of the sidewalk… you see… something.

Something tiny… and fluffy…

But wet… and tiny.

And then it meows.

It’s a little squeaky kitty all alone on a cold night. You quickly pick him up and make sure his momma or brothers aren’t around, and it turns out he’s all alone. What you do next isn't a hard choice to make.

You stuff the tiny kitty into your bra to make sure he warms up and you run home, hugging him to your chest. You dry him off, give him some milk, make him a little nest in a small felt hamper that you have and you lay him to sleep beside you. In the morning he wakes up all groggy, but he’s got creamy long fluffy hair with little grey hints - he looks like one of those kittens they edit fairy wings onto on pinterest.

You take him to the vet and he’s got a little cold but he’ll be okay - say hello to your new kitty Lixie.

Seungmin:

Minnie is that cool cat that hangs out on your uni campus. Every student knows him, some bring him food. Looks cute but gets pretty grumpy since everyone is trying to pet him all the time every-fucking-day. He is SICK AND TIRED of being put on everyone's ig stories. Just let him sleep DAMN IT. Loves hissing at unsuspecting freshmen when they cross the petting line.

He’s a cute tabby, big and chonky since everyone is giving him those snacky snacks.

Will often be in lectures. His favorite professor is this gentle old man in the history department, and if you psspsspss him during class, he will walk over to nap on your lap. Sweetest cat ever so long as you don’t overdo the petting.

If he’s feeling playful he’ll knock over all of your pens. And then you’ll pick them back up, and he’ll knock them back down. During uni breaks when the student’s are away he retreats to his vacation home, a bodega.

Jeongin:

Your block. Midday. Clear sky. A crowd surrounds a tree.

THERE IS A KITTEN STUCK IN THE TREE.

You have to climb up to get him down. Nobody knows how he got there, all they know is that everyone wants him. He's a fluffy little tuxedo cat and he’s stealing hearts all over town. People take turns fostering him until he’s a bit more grown, and by then people have gotten him familiar with coming in and out of peoples houses, hence Innie.

Spends a few nights in your house. Cutest kitten ever, super playful. Loves to eat butterflies. He’ll pick up the habit of stealing things and taking them to other people's houses. Shows up to your back door with a whole fried drumstick or someone’s bra, you never know what to expect, but he’s adorable.

Certainly the cause of a neighborhood-wide conflict. This kitten is too cute to belong to a single person.

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #bang Chan #lee know #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #seo changbin #han jisung

[hysteriium]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth​ they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them. 

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think. 

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader. 

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence. 

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief. 

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice. 

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.  

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–” 

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running. 

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper. 

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.” 

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he? 

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“No,” he smirked, petting your head. 

Curse his height. 

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?” 

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.” 

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.” 

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.” 

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath. 

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?” 

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars. 

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.   

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”  

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so. 

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!” 

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well… 

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it. 

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word– 

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you. 

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first. 

“Will this make you, uh, happy?” 

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?” 

“My being with you.” 

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’. 

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.” 

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted. 

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm. 

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.  

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion. 

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–” 

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks. 

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning. 

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling. 

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady. 

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips. 

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold. 

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk. 

“Peach,” he cooed. 

You were going to have to reapply later. 

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him. 

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself. 

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him. 

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!” 

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with. 

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work. 

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.” 

“Hmm,” he trailed off. 

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green. 

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.  

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!” 

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed. 

“All done!” 

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.” 

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention. 

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.” 

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.” 

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.” 

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach. 

It would have to do, though.  

“Okay,” you whispered. 

He stood up now, towering over you. 

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips. 

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact. 

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed. 

“What are you–” 

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed. 

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring. 

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days. 

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving. 

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting. 

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust. 

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.” 

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.” 

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.  

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.  

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism. 

“It’s hard not to.” 

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him. 

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’ 

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly. 

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth. 

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago. 

You fought the urge to run. 

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath. 

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand. 

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?” 

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.  

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.  

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–” 

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.” 

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out. 

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision. 

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology. 

Your stomach turned. 

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.  

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm. 

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt. 

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him. 

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset. 

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier. 

Pee-yew. 

Everyone here sucked. 

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her. 

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement. 

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.” 

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?” 

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear: 

I’m new to this. 

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation. 

Something had changed. 

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him. 

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response. 

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain. 

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment. 

“So what? What are you doing?” 

“What does it – ah – look like?” 

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away. 

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo. 

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but. 

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right. 

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it. 

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles. 

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt. 

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash. 

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.  

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean. 

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that. 

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good. 

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you. 

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you. 

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth. 

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.” 

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade. 

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.” 

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.” 

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.” 

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth. 

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation. 

Yeesh. 

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming. 

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here. 

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom. 

He smacked his lips. 

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse. 

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?” 

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side. 

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye. 

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her. 

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation. 

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?” 

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.  

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?” 

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.  

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing. 

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer. 

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut. 

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance. 

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed. 

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms. 

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.” 

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly. 

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again. 

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale. 

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.  

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.” 

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected. 

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–” 

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic. 

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”  

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness. 

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady. 

“Mine,” you whispered. 

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete. 

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand. 

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song. 

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice. 

#Joker #The Dark Knight #TDK #Joker x reader #fanfiction #My Writing #heath ledger joker x reader #Heath Ledger Joker #Dk!Joker #The joker x reader #DC #dceu x reader #dceu fandom #dceumovies #dceu #dceu joker #Christopher Nolan Batman #Christopher Nolan Joker #tdk series #tdk joker #tdk fanfiction #x reader #Self Insert #dark knight joker #joker x you #joker x y/n #heath ledger #heath joker #heath joker x reader #hysteriium