#i doubt they were doing that on purpose but i think its a nice little detail both dhmis and coraline are just jam packed with little fun st | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bettysupremacy · 4 months

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HI oh my goodness i just flashed through ur entire page (its LOVELY writing) and i desperately need more!! I noticed the lack of Remus request so here i am B)

OKAY could I request plot for before remus and the reader are together? Like how they came to be ^^ mm maybe like "coincidentally" him running into her at her favorite bookstore or coffee shop (ITS CLICHE IM SORRY BUT I LOVE THESE LOCATIONS) until he finally asks her on a date !! (and maybe his friends spying on him just becuase hehe)

thank uu

HELLO I appreciate the support and there definitely is a lack of Remus. It’s cliche BUT CUTE! thank you for the request babe!!

“But I can’t just.. talk to her.”

“Why not?” James deflates. “Girls love that!”

They sit at a tiny table, in a tiny bookshop, in an even tinier cafe built in. The air crackles with cedar wood and vanilla, swirling around his hazy mind. It’s cozy and intimate but he has no place to put his legs, he sits awkwardly, leg bouncing anxiously. It accidentally hits the table. Sirius flinches from his mug.

“I’ll scare her.”

“Well then,” Sirius stirs his coffee. “don’t be weird.”

They came to study- or rather Remus came to study and his shadows came along. It’d been fine at first, computer out, a quiet Sirius. But Sirius has never had the patience to play quiet for long, especially when James is near.

“Maybe I’ll just leave it..” Remus murmurs.

Two voices shout at him. “No!”

Remus flinches mouthing sorry to the people around him. Sorry students he’d burdened with his rowdy friends. Hands to a sticky table, he pushes up. “M’Kay, I’m going.”

His feet feel heavy. He wants to do this, he wants your number, but god he doesn’t want to do this. Rejection is enough, but rejection in front of his two best friends? Looking back at his table, James encourages him. Two thumbs up and a hopeful face.

“Oh, shit!”

He’s crashed into you.

“Oh,” you startle, stumbling.

James and Sirius sink into their seats behind you. “Wow.”

Remus stabilizes you. “M’so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off.

“No seriously, shit, I’m sorry.”

You laugh, high and sweet. “I’m fine. At least there wasn’t coffee.”

“Has that happened?”

“Yes,” you breathe a laugh, dusting off your pants nervously. “before an interview.”

“That’s awful.” He’s genuine.

“It was kinda,” you ease. “they weren’t nearly as nice or attractive as you.”

He swallows. He thinks your pretty, very pretty. His eyes catch on your lips, your eyelashes. That’s a weird thing to notice, right? Eyelashes? He’s usually smoother than this, he wishes he was smoother than this. He’s embarrassed.

You flatten over his doubts like you can read his mind. “I’m clumsy, we can say this was my fault.”

“Noble.”

You shrug. “It’s not far from the truth.”

“Not very chivalrous of me.” He laughs a little.

“It’s okay,” you’re comforting, he likes that. “Did you need something over here?”

He scratches his neck, speaking before he can himself.

“Do you wanna,” he doesn’t know what to say. He started the sentence and backed out too late, but you stand there with patient eyes. He swallows a whine. “I’m usually a lot smoother than this, yanno?”

You laugh unabashed. “It’s okay.”

“Falling on you like a building threw me off, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s start over?” You ask. “What’s your name?”

“Remus.” He sounds a little more confident. “I was over there,” he points to James and Sirius who wave. “and I thought you were pretty, would you wanna get drinks sometime?”

You hold back a laugh at the formality of it all. “Yes, do you have a cell?”

“Yes.” He breathes, pulling out his small phone decidedly. He doesn’t rarely use it, ‘cept for plans. Skipping past texts from James, Sirius, Lily.. etc, he opens the little contacts icon. He doesn’t ignore them purposely, he just prefers to call.

“Here,” you smile, taking the phone from him gently. “this is where you can reach me if you want to buy me another cookie.”

He looks down, he hadn’t noticed the fallen treat.

“Don’t” you start firmly with an easy smile. “say sorry.”

He laughs, holding back another sorry. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” you reach down to point at the pen in his pocket. “Can I see that?”

He nods, pulling out the pen for you. It’d been abandoned at the same time he’d realized studying was no hope. His fingers brush against yours as he gives it to you, but you don’t let his hand far. Gently grabbing it, you look up at his confused eyebrows for a confirmation. A gentle can I?

“Oh,” he breathes, nodding. “go ahead.”

You take the pen to his skin and work the ballpoint over the rough surface. The ink bleeds into him as you write the address. You notice his scars, jagged deep tissue, and ignore them. His ears heat up. “Really good drinks here,” you explain “and next to a bakery.”

A laugh stumbles out of his lips before he can stop it and you look up to grin. “Noted.”

Letting his hand go, you watch him bring the scribble up to his eyes to read it. It’s messy but he thinks that has something to do with his scars rather than you.

“Time?” Remus asks, and you grab his hand again, writing a messy 8PM under your other ink marks. “I’ll uh see you there.”

“Perfect.”

He turns to walk, almost immediately turning back and grabbing your arm quickly. “Wait, what’s your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Remus.”

“I know.” You laugh.

He knows you’re not laughing at him, but he cringes anyway as he walks back, heavy with embarrassment, triumphant with the thrill of a date. the boys pat his back when he sits down.

“Poor thing.” Sirius consoles.

James scoffs. “He got the date!”

“But still,” Sirius sulks. “that was embarrassing.”

Remus glares. “Thanks.”

“Well go on,” James starts. “show us the writing.”

Remus sticks out his hand for the boys to see. They hum mildly, looking at him with approval. “Nice bar.” Sirius nods.

“Next to a bakery.” James affirms.

“I, uh,” Remus scratches the back of his neck. “made her drop her cookie.”

“You dickhead.” Sirius laughs.

“I didn’t mean to!”

He slumps in his chair as James hits Sirius. They argue, petulantly and boyish, and Remus looks away. You stand at the register buying a book he doesn’t remember you holding when he’d knocked into you. Smiling at the cashier you grab your change and the bag of goods you bought. He feels weird watching. This has got to be weird, right? But as you walk out, you glance to him, lifting your hand up to your ear during the doorbell chime.

Call me.

#remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus fluff #remus lupin fic #remus fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus x you #remus x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus x y/n #marauders fanfic #marauders comfort #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders fluff

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andsomemaniacgotridofthewheel · 8 months

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I think "Bad Writing on Purpose" is a misnomer.

And people focus too much on it.

First of all, I really don't understand why people were surprised by the cliffhanger. Everyone was talking about how Neil said season 2 was going to be "quiet, gentle, and romantic" but nobody noticed that he also, on multiple occasions, wrote that season 2 was not the sequel he and Terry plotted, but what needed to happen to get the characters to where they needed to be at the start of what they plotted as the book sequel but would now be season 3. He was always completely open that season 2 was a bridge, and after reading it here and there before season 2 came out, I for one knew that season 2 would most likely end with a cliffhanger.

I mean, I surely didn't know we would get OFMD-ed, that was indeed a surprise, but I knew there would be a cliffhanger. Why didn't you?

Now I have read ariaste's famous 15 000 word essay. I find her theory quite brilliant. I don't think she will be (totally) right about it, it's too specific and too reliant on her assumption of how the Book of Life works. I also disagree with some of the details of what she calls "bad writing". Especially Maggie might just be portrayed as a dork neurodivergent. And some of her visual "clues" already turned out to be simple homages. (Not "The Crow Road", though, I think. Yes, Neil and Terry were friends with Ian Banks. But he has written like 40+ books, why choose THAT one, the one that deals in part with people solving a mystery by going through old documents, just after we are shown that Aziraphale keeps diaries and definitely leaves them in the bookshop when he's going to heaven? Even if we ascribe its first appearance to the famous opening line which Gabriel reads aloud, why show the same book a second time, mid-frame?)

Also, yes, I disliked that Aziraphale's & Crowley's new first meeting put them on the wrong foot with each other, when their meeting in Eden had established them as kinda instant co-conspirators from the very beginning. The same with Crowley in the Job episode being the one to introduce Aziraphale to worldly pleasures instead of him discovering them on his own. But that is sometimes what happens when you learn more about characters from new canon, sometimes it doesn't fit your established headcanon. You either roll with it or you choose to ignore that part of canon.

But I do think she is on the right track. And the most important thing that ariaste pointed out is still the missing/unsatisfying payoffs and the unfired Chekov's Guns, which I am pretty sure is the very reason this season felt so "off" for most of us and why ariastes theory found so much resonance. But I wouldn't call that Bad Writing. I would call that at most Weird Writing Choices. Especially if

you view the whole of season 2, the bridge season, the quiet gentle and romantic interlude, as one. giant. setup.

Having Aziraphale use his never-before-mentioned halo as a deus-ex-machina option to defeat the demons in his bookshop is a weird writing choice. Especially when we know we have a literal Chekov's - Derringer - Gun hidden somewhere in there, which is not being used. Mentioning the Book of Life several times and have it be of no consequence, Crowley even doubting that it really exists, is another unfired gun. The Nazi-Zombies, which are somehow left to their own devices and never mentioned again, could be a Chekhov's Gun - and I feel a lot better knowing now that yes, the living dead are apparently part (a sign?) of The Second Coming.

But it isn't bad writing. It is setting up season 3. It has always been about setting up season 3. We got a nice, little, quiet gentle and romantic, fan-fictionesque Ineffable Bureaucracy main plot to go with it, but that was never the raison d'etre for season 2. It's main purpose was always to set. up. season. three.

After all, most paraphrasings of "Chekov's Gun" speak of acts. If a gun is shown in act 1, it has to be fired in act 2. If a gun is shown in one act, it has to be fired the following. If we look at Good Omens as a 3-act-story, with one season being one act, then all the Chekov's Guns were shown to us in act 2, and are not required to go off until act 3 - meaning season 3.

All of you who dismiss this and go "no one ever wrote bad on purpose just to fix it in the next season, why not accept this season was just bad" are missing the point, because you fixate on the "bad writing on purpose" misnomer. It's not bad writing. It's delayed gratification. It's setting up a payoff over more than one season. Which you can absolutely do if you have a plan, if you know where your story is going. It is what everyone still seems to expect from J.J. Abrams, even though we should know better by now. His setups never pay off, because he sets up things he never intends to resolve, never even has an idea about how they could be resolved, and keeps getting away with it. And yet, the overwhelming presence of his shitty writing in media has probably screwed with our expectations from mystery shows, which thanks to him are not very high. But I truly believe that Neil Gaiman (and John Finnemore, a frickin' COMEDY writer, for whom the setup-payoff concept must actually be like breathing) are both simply better than that windbag. There will be a payoff. Only later.

I believe we will come back to the halo. Aziraphale's Derringer Gun will be fired. The Book of Life will have meaning, even if it is different from what we might theorize. The Zombies will at least be mentioned. And I think even the weirdly framed and then forgotten Eccles cakes will make another appearance. We will have an actual, big-stakes gen plot next season. Aziraphale & Crowley will be stopping another apocalypse. It will have to do with Crowley's "all of us against all of them" line from season 1. It will have Anathema & Newt (I remember one Tumblr ask before season 2 where Neil was asked if they would come back for season 2, and he answered no, but they would hopefully be in season 3), and I personally think they're gonna regret burning that second book from Agnes. Crowley & Aziraphale will not have much time to talk about their relationship or to feel sorry for themselves, as a lot of fans seem to expect. This will not be fan-service, this will not be fan-fictionesque. The bigger picture is the second apocalypse and once again saving humanity, and saving earth. Doing that, Crowley & Aziraphale will find common ground again, they will find each other again. They will end up in their shared cottage in the South Downs, openly in love, and everything will be ok. I don't know exactly how, and I don't want to speculate too much, because that almost always ends up with me being disappointed by how canon actually turns out.

But I believe in Neil Gaiman. I believe he cares. I believe he might even care more about "Good Omens" than about any other of his creations. And I believe in the Brilliance of John Finnemore. I don't believe that he would have let Neil get away with these setups without real payoffs if he didn't see the point of them.

(And if Amazon and their greedy CEO/shareholders are the reason we won't get a third season, you'll hear about me in the news, I swear. 😡)

#good omens #neil gaiman #john finnemore #crowley #aziraphale #the magic trick theory #the magic trick you didn't see #ineffable divorce #ineffable idiots #ineffable dumbasses #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 #go2 #anthony j crowley #south downs cottage #good omens 2 #nikku.txt #aj crowley #az fell

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starillusion13 · 2 months

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Lost you forever pt.2

READ THE PART 1 ----> HERE!

Pairing: Ateez! ot8 x fem! reader

Genre: Angst, Mafia, Mature, Fluff

Warnings: crying, forgiveness, trust and hurt, regrets, self doubts, comfort, heartbreak, anxiety and new beginnings.

W.C: 4.6k (I swear you wont cry again)

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated 😭. This is a requested fic, initially I had no plans on making this but still some of you literally begged for it so here it is. Enjoy!

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

“Bye, have a nice day.”

Waving at your co-workers before leaving the workplace early, you make your way towards the nearby flower shop. Well, it’s really weird to go to buy flowers with an early break. No, it’s not for you but maybe for others. Glancing to every shop to your sides, walking through the footpath, you find different new things on display and finding some very cute and beautiful. You made a note to buy some of those later someday and keeping in mind to not miss out the flower shop for now. Arriving to the shop, a tug felt in your heart, something is aching in the corner, something is calling out for you, a missing piece of your life.

“How can I help you miss?”

You realised that unconsciously you have entered the glass doors and standing in front of the bouquet section. How precious they look when decorated so nicely! All the beautiful flowers arranged in a desired sequence with a touch of greenery with some leaves peeking out among the spaces. Each flower representing different purposes and each colour describing specific moods. And what should be appropriate for you?

“I want orchids.”

The florist smiles at you but before picking up the first flower, she turns towards you with a soft look on her face as if trying to decide on something.

“What colour do you prefer? I guess it must be red.”

“Pink.”

She pauses and blinks at you, “Aren’t you going to give it to your loved ones?”

“No…These are for myself. For me.”

Is it?

Do you have any loved ones though?

She nods her head while picking up the fresh ones from the baskets and delicately placing them on the wooden counter. Why should you take red colour when you don’t have that love, affection and beauty in your life? That’s why you opted for Pink. A colour that is stuck between the bright affection of red that’s burning for the beauty of love and the white silence filled with desires for a new hope in your life which is innocently waiting for a blooming change.

And the flowers orchid and lily with this colour is the perfect ones to resemble you.

To resemble your life.

In the days of missing them.

“Here, this is your flowers and it’s your total.”

Taking the bouquet in your hold, you send a small smile towards her and after paying, you leave the shop. While walking to your next location, you found a little note attached to the back of the bouquet and you quickly open it to read.

‘I know you are missing someone and that’s why I have put a stargazer lily in the middle, it’s red in colour. You may have missed it earlier but believe in yourself, everything is going to be alright if your desires and hopes are alive with you like a stargazer. A miracle should occur to you soon.’

Are you really missing someone? Maybe. Is there someone thinking about you too? You stare at the flower for a little longer before looking around to find the surrounding a bit too familiar, the beach where you come a lot and past memories flashes to you.

Memories of Them.

Wiping off the tears, you turn towards the direction of the café. The past few weeks were okay. Just like okay. You didn’t have anything special or extraordinary. Your café owner came back to the town and you shared everything possible to her of what happened in these past one month because you were feeling down. Even though she soothes you to take everything normally, there is something tingling in your heart, as if something is not smooth the way its visible.

“look, here you are zoning out again.”

You got startle with the voice from your side. Here, you are sitting with your favourite pastry and breads but you haven’t taken a bite instead just sucking the spoon like a child, eyes lost in your daydreaming. After you met them that day, you just can’t keep your mind off from thinking about them.

What are they doing right now? Did they give up on you? Why does it matter to you? Are you thinking to go back to them? Maybe…

“No. I’m not.”

“Sure. So, have you thought about taking off for few days. Don’t worry I’m not kicking you out of the work, you are like my daughter and I want you to enjoy your young life.”

“Yeah I know, but I’m not sure if I want to go though.”

“of course, you will go. you will be having the time of your life so have a fresh mind and just go, have some fun but where are you going anyways?”

She rests her hands on her waist and wiggles her brows at you. You whine and glance out the glass wide windows, everybody is busy with their daily life and the time of noon is giving the café some free time to let you have some time for yourself. Her gaze falls on the flowers beside you, she smiles to herself before patting your head. You look up at her warm and welcoming look, “maybe I will go to the beach today. There’s a lot of thoughts on my mind.”

She nods and urges you to eat.

“who gave you these flowers?”

You frown and as you look towards the soft petals, you remember the note attached to it.

everything is going to be alright if your desires and hopes are alive with you like a stargazer.

“No one. I bought them earlier when I went out.”

She again nods and glances at the clock, the lunch break is over and soon the customers will start filling up the silent atmosphere. Before leaving you alone to finish your food, she made sure that you don’t start working again today or she will scold you in front of others. She is really treating you like a baby.

Maybe, you are still a baby.

They always pampered you like a baby.

You shook your head about their thoughts and proceed to eat.

The fresh winds hitting your face, closed eyes and a tiny smile resting on your face but still a tear line visible. The sun giving the warmth under the cold winter afternoon but still you need more.

A comforting warmth.

You place the flowers and bag by your side and spread your legs over the mat.

Eight flowers in total and the stargazer in middle.

There are not many people around you and few couples walking by the shore. A child not more than five years old is running after a ball stopped in front of you. She smiles at you and to your oblivion, a smile appears on your face.

“you are pretty.”

Before you could have replied her, she runs after the ball and laughing loudly.

“Why do you guys have to show yourself again?” you wipe the tears and continue, “I was okay without you…it was better to be alone.” You stare at the glistening waters of the sea, waves wiping off the shore like the wind, blowing away the sadness and surrounding you with a comforting blanket of air.

Suddenly, arms wrap around you, flinching to the sudden action but a whisper choked in emotion makes you stop before you could push away the arms, “y/n……I’m sorry.”

You press your lips tight, preventing any emotion to escape you. He still remembers you.

They remember you.

They didn’t give up.

“Woo…” your eyes close to feel him against your back, breath hitting your neck, goosebumps appearing on your exposed skin, pad of your thumb caress the smooth skin of his palms over your chest. Feeling his arms loosening around you, your fingers grip tighter on him, “please…don’t give up on me.”

“I will never give up on you.” His voice is almost like a whisper, hiding behind the desire to hear your voice again, his heart aching with different emotions. The emotions which are flooding inside him but he is still unaware of the actual feelings for the current situation.

Ears perk upon the sound of some shuffling around you, palms cupping your cheeks and caressing the dried teary cheeks, “don’t tell me to go away again.” Your eyes flutter open to look at the eyes in front of you, those innocent yet merciless ones which are brimmed with tears for you, “I can’t afford to lose you…again.”

“Jongho…why are you here?”

“we all are here, y/n…for you. I’m sorry, please give me one more chance.” His tears are slowly slipping down, your eyes followed it and slowly, you wipe the tears, “please don’t make me feel guilty that I am the cause for someone’s sadness.”

Wooyoung’s grip around you tightens with your words and you can feel many more presence around you, your inner voice fighting the urge to glance towards their direction. Facing the two youngest is easy for you and they were the ones who didn’t blame you like others but still they said enough to add the fuel to the fire. But the others, they blamed you, accused you, hurt you…do they even trust you?

“you can’t hurt me ever, y/n. just don’t leave me.” Jongho said and shifted forward but is still cautious with your comfort. You nod and he sit closer to you. Twisting your body a bit, you find the others standing close to you three but as soon as they caught you staring at them, they avert their eyes, not because they don’t want to look at you.

Because they can’t make a simple eye-contact with you. They are filled with guilt.

But one is still trying his hard not to take his eyes off to somewhere else, they are focused on you between Wooyoung’s arm. Hongjoong’s eyes are red and his tears still flowing down continuously. You have last seen them two months ago and after that, it’s been worst for you. You have cried every night because you wanted to run back to them, to hear their voices but you were sure that they have given up on you.

A tear-drop falls from your eyes while watching the leader.

“do you guys still don’t believe me?” even though you are staring at him, the question is directed to everyone. Your broken voice tugs at their heart, their love for you is killing them inside that how could they even blamed you.

“y/n…” the leader says your name, tasting the name to make himself believe that he is calling you and you are in front of him not like other times when he is thrashing around everything and screaming your name, killing people out of nowhere just in a hope to see you. He couldn’t bear to see the hatred in your eyes that day. He tortured himself everyday that he blamed his precious person, he hurt his only love for something that she never meant in any other way other than saving her family, even sacrificing herself. “I believe you…I’m sorry that I broke the trust. I am the one to be blamed.”

Removing the arms from around you, Wooyoung thought that you are pushing him away from you but you just shifted in your place to face the others properly. He still remains in the same position, close to you. The warm breeze blowing, tugging your locks behind your ears, you gesture them to come close. Few hesitate but the leader and Mingi are quick to kneel in front of you. Nobody around you would believe that they are the notorious mafia gang of the city but in this different country, they are like some teenage boys asking for forgiveness.

All having the same hurt look on their faces, their heart is aching with the feel that you are so near to them, they can feel your skin, your breath, your heartbeat but still…the emotions keeping them apart from each other. They always knew that you are very different from this mafia world, too innocent for this cruel life but still you gladly accepted them in your life, you made them part of your life, you became their sunshine in the cold darkness but they didn’t know how to protect the sunshine with the darkness all around.

“If I ask you, why do you guys deserve forgiveness? What will you say?”

They look towards each other, questioning the same question to themselves. Do they really deserve you after all that? You precisely looked at each one of them, waiting for a reply. That day you let everything out of you without even giving them a chance to speak anything. Once, they didn’t let you say anything and next time, you didn’t let them say anything. Huh! You all are same.

“you can’t reply.”

They frown at you but you nod. “you all still don’t know why you are here. For me? but for what?” you shake your head and sigh, “you want me to forgive you all. To go back to you and forget everything but have you thought one thing. Why the first thing that came to your mind was that I betrayed you?”

The question pierced their heart, reminding them how badly they hurt you that evening in the party. They want to delete that part forever but the more they try to forget it, the more its imprinting in their memory.

“Hongjoong…I know, you know this answer.” You nod at him, when he gulps and nod his head, the others are already expecting the known answer from him.

“because he was my dad.”

A small smile appears on your face. You are satisfied with the expected answer, your finger curl above your thigh.

“yes. You trusted him because he was your dad. If I were in your place, I would have done the same. You did what you should, Joong.”

Hongjoong’s eyes become big. He is shocked hearing you.

They are surprised with your sudden smile, and hearing you are appreciating him for what he has done.

“y/n?” Mingi has a visible frown on his face to which you chuckle.

“what? It proved me that he is capable of trusting his beloved ones even after they betrayed him. he was just being a child who stood against me for his father. But…” you wipe your tears and Wooyoung hugs your side, you pat his hand with a sad smile. He really misses you. He is the most clingiest one among them, even if you hurt this boy to the end, he will still hold your hand and look at you with the eyes of admiration. “but…I was hurt that you all didn’t mean to hear me for once.”

Mingi grabs your hand above your thigh and squeezes it, “I’m sorry, y/n. we really regret that we blamed you without hearing you. We didn’t let you explain. It was a big mission for us, we were so mad at everything and we didn’t think properly and in the end, we hurt you.”

“regret? Mingi…regret is a big thing. If I still go away today without forgiving any of you. Who will regret?” you lick your lips. Jongho shifted to your side, “please…don’t go away.”

“we both will regret. You will regret and blame yourself for hurting me and feel that you are the reason I am gone. Also, I will regret too because even when I got the chance to talk out everything, I still chose to hold my ego and distanced myself from you. I really cant stay without you.” You are completely crying at this point. Tears can’t be held back and Mingi quickly engulfs you in a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back, “y/n…I can’t stay without you too.”

His hands are shaking, maybe soon you will push him away like that day but you didn’t, instead you clutch his shirt and cried in his embrace. Jongho is patting your head with a sad smile on his face. He is glad that you still love them, hearing that your heart aches for them makes his heart warm with the love for you and he even blamed himself more for that day.

Retreating slowly from the hug, Wooyoung wipes your tears and smiles at you. You avert your gaze towards Yeosang who is always quiet with his feelings, you know he always wants to tell a lot but he keeps it to himself, fearing to mess up anything.

But when you send a smile towards him, he stared at you like a child and smiles back.

“do you hate me because I slapped you that day?”

He shakes his head, “no. I deserved it.”

You chuckle, “should I slap you again?” your joke makes him laugh a little. This is the first time he is laughing in these three years. He, literally all of them were emotionless and ruthless after they found you nowhere. Jungwoo really kept you hidden in another country, far away from them. Had it not been their mission there, they wouldn’t have met you again. Maybe, the fate has again brought you all together.

Seonghwa cups your face, eyes scanning everywhere until your hand grips his wrist with the assurance that he doesn’t need to worry. Still, he is hurt, “how are you, y/n?”

“Seonghwa, how are you? And how should I be?” he looks down but you make him look up, “look at me and tell me. I am not shouting today. I am patiently hearing you all. We should have done this long before but we both were scared. You were scared of your anger because you thought I betrayed you all and I was scared of you.”

You were scared of them.

They wont ever get this feeling off their heart that they made you feel scared of them.

“I was scared how Hongjoong was fuming in anger and accusing me in front of all the guests. I was scared of Mingi looking at me like I broke all of his trusts. I was scared of you how you were blaming me for everything and treating me like an enemy, my head was spinning. I couldn’t understand anything. I wanted to say so much but Yeosang shouted on me and threatened me. and…” lastly, you look at the two who has kept their distance from you, they still can’t forgive themselves. They did worse out all of them. “Yunho…tried to slap me, he wanted me out of his sight…maybe dead.”

“y/n, trust me I’ll never want you dead. I will kill myself before doing something to you and for which I will be responsible for my brothers’ regrets.”

“and your regret?”

“I wont keep myself alive to feel the regret.” You stare at him until you look towards the last person.

“but you killed a part of me when you held the gun to my head, San.”

His lips trembles hearing you, he knew what he did was beyond the forgiveness. He himself can’t even think of how to forget it and forgive his deeds. He almost killed you. If he didn’t resist to pull the trigger, you would have been dead.

“NO! y/n, please…I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I want a chance to prove myself to you. I..I don’t know how to say but you should hate me but please don’t go away again. Don’t tell me to give up on you.”

You remove Jongho’s and Seonghwa’s hands from you before standing up and make your away out of the pile where they are all sitting around you.

“y/n…please don’t go.” Wooyoung’s voice cracks and Hongjoong pats his back.

You dust your knee length floral frock, “I am not going…” you turn around, your back facing them. The waters washing your bare feet, the dress flowing with the wind, hairs dancing to the rhythm of the silent melody in the breeze, eyes watching the sun above the horizon, soon it will say the goodbye to the day and the silent night with the roar of the big waves filling the shore.

“I want to feel the moment. What it feels to be with your loved ones again in the same place where you have spent days of crying alone.”

You crane your neck to look at them and smile. They are attentive to your every word, every action, every emotion. You are calm and collected, totally different from the day you were anxious and scattered.

“You often come here?” Hongjoong asks you slowly and you nod while turning towards them. You are shining under the setting sun, their angel. “Come on, one of you already knows about it. Right, Yeosang?”

Everyone looks at him and he slowly nods. “I tracked her location everyday and one day when I saw her spending too much time in this particular location, I thought she was in danger but she was just crying to herself. And since then, I followed her here and watched her from a distance.”

They are surprised to hear that he followed you and you were aware of it.

“don’t pretend you all are any better. You all have stalked me in different ways.” You shake your head with the thought. “living with you all atleast taught me a lot how to know if someone is keeping an eye on me.”

“somebody was stalking you?” Hongjoong is totally confused and when you nod, Seonghwa and Mingi have the same expressions like him. they both ask you the same question.

“Yunho is almost a regular customer at the café. He thought no one would recognise him being so obvious. You don’t drink strawberry milkshake then why did you order that day?” you raise your brow and he presses his lips in line before replying, “I heard you made it specially that day for the children and I wanted to taste it.”

“Are you a child? You even asked saying it's for your daughter. My coworker was so upset knowing you were married.” He laughs lightly.

You fold your hands in front and gesture towards San, “I know it was you who saved me that night while returning from Mrs. Lee's house. Thank you, San. I know you can’t hurt me. you were disturbed and held the gun towards me but give me some time. I promise I will forget it.”

He quickly gets on his feet, approaches towards you and engulfs you in a hug, “Thanks to you, y/n for not giving up on me, on us. I promise you too. I wont ever let anything to happen us for which we have to regret more.”

You nod in his embrace. The ruthless one who was threatening you to shoot is nowhere to be seen today but still a part of you is still hurt.

You are lost in the moment with San that you didn’t notice them on their feet around both of you.

“y/n…you said a lot of things that day.” Jongho’s voice makes you break the hug but San is still holding your hand. Hongjoong casts a glance towards him and proceeds, “about that…about the…”

“about what?” you furrow your brows.

Mingi completes the sentence, “about the baby.”

Oh. Yeah, they still remember it. You thought they didn’t care.

You look towards them, feeling intimidate under their gazes, overwhelmed with all the attention on you, you clutch his hand and gulp the lump with the thought of your baby.

A wave of emotions erupted in you.

“my baby…I lost my first baby…I don’t deserve to be a mother.” Seonghwa pulls you in a hug, rubbing soothing circles on your back. He glares at others for bringing up the topic but deep down he knows, some day it needs to be raised and you had to face but still seeing you breaking down in his arms is making him more upset.

But there is a relief that you are not pushing away them again. He holds you tighter.

San caresses your head and softly says, “it’s okay, y/n. don’t cry. You deserve everything, every little good thing and happiness of this universe. You will be a great mother.”

You rest your head against Seonghwa’s chest and turns towards them, ear picking up the beat of his heart and after so many years of missing them, you are finally with them, in their arms.

Your eyes are hurt and lost in emotion.

“thanks for listening to me that day…I really wanted to take those all off my chest. I felt so nice after screaming everything to you all. I have spent days of crying to myself but everyday I hoped atleast one of you to come to me. Wooyoung and Jongho didn’t blame me much but still as your brothers, they supported you. I was upset, angry, stressed and guilty but you know I was relieved that whatever happened, in the end I had saved you all.”

“Hongjoong…I have saved you from dying. I have saved your gang but somehow…I couldn’t save my baby.”

Yeosang wipes your tears, “don’t cry. You did a lot for us. I don’t know if we deserve you in our life. You are the purest one and still we hurt you, we owe you for everything that you did to save us.”

Seonghwa adds, “I’m sorry, y/n. But I will be always grateful to you for saving us.”

Yunho steps forward and pulls you towards him, your back coming in contact with his chest and holds your hands in front, “look at the view of the setting sun, y/n.”

You glance at him then to others and then to your front, the sun setting slowly.

“you are pretty like the sunset on the sea.” He plants a kiss on top of your head.

“me?”

Seonghwa nods along with Yunho. Others have a fond smile on their faces.

“why?”

“the level of our love changes with every waves of our emotions. The glass waters represent the tears that reflects the feelings towards each other but still shining, highlighting the bond and strength of us. No matter how rough the days are or how smooth the flow of life is. We will always stay together and forever.”

“Really? But I am still hurt, Yunho. It’s really not easy for me to forget everything.”

Seonghwa pats your cheek lightly, “you really can’t forget it so easily. We did wrong and you should see us like the ones who are guilty for this but let’s again build the bond together. None of us can live without you. If I lose you, I will lose myself too.”

San is hesitant but wooyoung urges him to speak, he steps near you, “we have so much to do in our life. We need to prove you so much. We have to return you the happiness, the smile that you lost that day, the trust you lost that day and your love for us.”

“San, I have lost a lot already. Don’t remind me of those. But atleast I have you all again. Even if I had gone away that day but still I was relief that neither of you were hurt in the mission. You all were safe.”

Mingi smiles, “you are safe too.”

“if you all really wanted me dead then you would have tried many things. I am alive because your love for me, your inner trust for me didn’t let you kill me.”

Hongjoong places a kiss to your side of the head, “I will not let anything to hurt an inch of you. I will show you how an actual princess is to be treated.”

“Even if I have lost everything, my love for you will never get lost. It’s always secure in my heart, beating with the heart strings of our loving bond. Please don’t break it again.”

The setting sun with a promise with a twinkling star in your eyes, the tears of a hope of new beginning. The innocent blossom of a forgiving love. The flowers in the memory of them are left behind with the stargazer still in the middle surrounded by the orchids.

Just like you, their star, surrounding by the stargazers around you, your loved ones.

“please don’t let me go again.”

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @scuzmunkie @yuyusgamingchair @chngbnwf @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn

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theabigailthorn · 1 year

Note

Hey Abigail, I don't know if you'll see this, but I just wanted to say it. You were not out when I started questioning my own identity, and honestly you came out online only a month or two after I finally started to admit to myself that something was off (transgirl - honestly even now I still have a hard time admitting it in any real way on or offline; slowly been getting better at it, found a few friends who accept me online), and it took me so long to admit that. I just wanted to say and ask you one thing each. Question first - How did you admit it internally? Like, I guess I mean... ugh brain why don't you work? Let me start over; I, personally, doubt every little thing I think and feel... I gaslight myself, and I have no real idea how to stop. I just wanted to ask if you had anything like that happen when you questioned, and if you did, if you have any advice on how to stop? Sorry if this is too personal a question btw, I understand if you don't answer for that reason. But yeah. Now what I wanted to say... thank you for being here. For being a voice I can look up to, and for just... being you. It's nice to see someone like me being their real self and being proud and everything... so, yeah, thank you. Thanks for reading if you have, sorry its so long, I tend to ramble, as you could probably guess.

Sounds like the question you're grappling with is "What if I'm incorrect?" which is one I considered briefly after I came out to myself. I knew intellectually that people can have strong feelings about things that turn out to be incorrect, so I thought it would be worth weighing that possibility even though emotionally I had no doubt at all. I asked a trans friend of mine about it (Mia Mulder, as it happens!) and she gave me some very good advice - who cares if you're incorrect if you're happier and better this way? If you're incorrect you can detransition: no harm or shame in trying something out for a few years or even longer and then going, "You know what, this isn't it." Do you want it and are you happy?

"I'd rather have a good time by accident than a bad time on purpose" she said

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nekassvariigs · 1 year

Text

"This one's reserved"

SFW , Fluff.

crocodile x reader

You always wondered why he never put rings on that finger, he'd always wear the flashiest diamonds and most intricate exspensive golds on his hands however solely refused to take up space on his hand.

He likes looking exspensive so why didnt he add another?

"Could it be?" The thought flashed your mind. Maybe he leaves it bare because hes reserving it for a wedding ring.. You thought.

Its the right hand and the right finger is he really that type of man? To hold him in high enough proper standarts to avoid using jewlery for that purpose alone. The thought made you blush a little.

"How modest of him.." you giggled.

"What is?" A voice from the shadows erupted, gleaming brown eyes reflecting sunlight.

"Oh nothing.." you kept smiling.

"Go on i'm waiting." He waited, stepping out of the shadows he leaned back in his chair white smoke lingering from his cigar.

"I don't think youre interested in old fashion modesty, are you?" You leaned on the table beside him scooting over some of his papers.

"Who knows, is this the reason youre acting like a school girl?" His answer was as dry as sand.

"Not really no." You lied looking at the way he puffed his cigar. Every finger coated in gold except one huh.

"In any case get off the table i have work to do." He demanded making you push yourself off the wodden desk.

Not to assume but was he avoiding your questioning?

You smiled to yourself for the last time nearing his door until you stopped. He didnt ask you to leave like he usually does, you dared to test your limits trying to overstay your welcome you headed for the large bookshelf grabbing out a book.

Crocodiles eyes followed you slowly watching what youre doing, not like he cared but somehow it was nice to have company for once. He thought.

You knew how dismissive and heardheaded this man was, how little he trusted those around him and not to mention how hard was it to even begin to make him talk to you like two proper adults not wanting to kill eachother.

You flipped the book on its back reading the introduction of it then you pried open the first page starting to read.

A while passed eventually Crocodile butted out his cigar cutting it with a neat machine for another use.

Some time passed as you were now on the fiftieth page of the book enticed in the story it told, until you looked over his direction. He was sitting silently filing out paperwork ,somehow he looked a little at peace, not guarded a bit relaxed. It was a refershing sight.

You gently smiled at the view and with a poof your book came to a close. You didnt want to disturb him so you got up quietly putting the book back ,your feet nearing the door out of his office.

In the back of your head you could feel a gaze, he was eyeing you again. The question seemed to bother him a little.

You opened the door and before he got to annoy you more with his dry and uninformative answers you headed out.

You made your way to the kitchen many floors below his office, asking the chefs at his casino for some hot water and tea.

"Whats the occasion las'?" The cook asked unusual of you to order anything here.

"Oh you know, showing some courtesy to the big bad man."

"Hmm i see, take this in that case.

He offered you a small bag filled with crumpled up leaves no doubt tea, with a bit of a crunch you opened it, nose filling with the scent of ginger and florals.

"Do you mind if i get some utensils and hot water with it?"

"Not at all, here you go kid." the man replied offering you a nice tray with some sugar lemon and a tiny flower in an even tinier vase.

"How cute.." you observed the little flower.

"Think he's the type to care for flowers?"

"Dont think so, but if you are keep the water changed every few days, should bloom beautifully." he added trying not to talk about his boss all too much.

The flower was maybe a bit bigger than a timy rock, a very floral white it had for petals, you wanted to nurture it and see it bloom.

Making your way back into his office you put down the tray on the book-table the tiny flower dangling in the middle of it.

"Care for some tea?" You offered politley. Hearing nothing.

Back to his old self again?

Crocodile was so much in the zone he actually didnt even notice you entering as this was a very important contract he had to decide on, he was wondering about expanding the casino buisness for a while now however not in the same town or country.

You poured yourself two cups of tea the aroma of ginger filling the air around you. You placed a few sliced of lemon on the side of the cupholder and a pair of sugar cubes, not knowing how he likes his tea you prepared for the occasion anyway.

"Thanks." He kept reading the contract.

You paused for a second, giving the authorative male a quick glance, he wasn't even focused on his surroundings he spaced out so much that he of all people thanked for tea from you.

You slightly chuckled daring to press your hand against his shoulder before walking off a second time.

He felt the warmth on his side however still too distracted with the contract to care.

"In order of offering our land in the country of-" he stopped focusing. He had been reading far too much and all these logistics were making his brain aggitated. He lit the cigar taking the cup in hand didnt bother with sugar or lemon. He admired the taste afterall he picked it for the mènu.

"I wouldnt call it modesty," He exhaled a cloud of weak smoke, "This one's reserved for something better than gaudy jewelry."

"Theres something better than gold for you?" you piqued not expecting him to start talking about feelings what so ever.

"Mm." his voice rumbled deep in his chest, it was interesting how little yet how much he can exspose you to his inner world.

You smiled understandingly, "Cheers to that." You drank in odd silence, Crocodile held something back that day.

- 5 days later -

You had taken care of the flower everyday watering it putting it in shade and in the sun making sure to relish the hard work and consistency you gave it.

Ah if only work could be this easy.

Thankfully your errands dropped before you had the chance to start them, you didnt ask about it either, happily taking the day off.

It was around midday, you were busy continuing the book and all of a sudden the sound of metal on wood alerted you, something fell..

You got up to check, still rolling right under the beautifully bloomed flower layed a slim gold ring.

Your eyes wide as how it got in the room in the first place you picked it up setting it on your finger for experimentation. It fit at best your middle finger however once switching one over it slided on perfectly not willing to budge.

"Hmm, this is nice." you liked how it looked, chique but extrordinary something about it made you like it more and more.

Few knocks and no wait for an answer the door opened the tall figure welcoming himself in.

"Anything wrong?" you asked him.

"No, simply sweeping the perimiter, i seem to have lost something." he looked at you.

"?" you stared stupidly at him.

"Maybe it was this?" You showed you hand to him the golden ring sitting on your ring finger perfectly.

"Got married or are you just bragging?"

Your face flushed. "W-What neither i just found this thing in my room."

He hummed staring at you, hand reaching for his cigar you noticed the spot on his hand that was empty a few days before was now enticed in a simple thick wedding band.

"Youre joking right?" you were shocked.

"What."

"Well hello something better than gold? but its there anyway."

"It's different." He calmly stated taking your hand in his, he kissed your knuckle leaving you speachless.

"This one is for you and me."

#crocodile one piece #sir crocodile #one piece crocodile #crocodile x reader #crocodile x y/n #crocodile x you #onepiece #one piece fanfiction

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pomplalamoose · 5 months

Text

Mistletoe Misery

modern day AU / Dilf!Luke x reader

summary: Luke has spent an entire evening thinking about catching you, the reader, under the mistletoe; will he be successful?

(based on this request)

A/N: the way I STRUGGLED with this is unreal💀 but if just one person out there likes it, it'd more than up make up for it. Happy holidays, lovely people🫶🏻

From his place next to his nephew Luke has a great view of the entrance to the kitchen over which proudly dangles the mistletoe.

And although he is surrounded by family and loved ones, his main focus is on you; bustling from one room to the other you carry glasses and plates or cleaning rags, diligently helping to clean up the big dining table.

Again and again you pass under the mistletoe, engage in small talk, let yourself be whirled around to the jolly tunes of old Christmas songs and all of it without glancing his way even once.

With barely concealed frustration he watches as you run into his brother in law for what feels like the fourth or fifth time this evening.

"Keep your father from kissing everything in his vicinity, would you?"

He didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it did and grimaces apologetically when Ben looks up at him in slight bewilderment.

"It's just an old tradition, uncle Luke.", he says. "I don't think mom minds terribly."

Luke sighs and swallows a grumbled retort, instead returning his attention back to you.

No, he isn't worried about Leia's relationship but very much about you falling for someone else.

Surely he, won't, can't be the focus of your attraction for long?

If he isn't mistaken, and he doubts he is, pretty much every member of his entire family was able to catch you under the mistletoe to receive one of your kisses or to gift one to you.

Except for him.

He can't suppress a longing sigh.

You're making for such a beautiful picture tonight.

Mesmerized he watches as you gracefully swipe your hair to the side and out of your face, your beautiful earrings catching the light.

Their gleam flashes across the room like a little beacon, beckoning him closer, drawing him in.

The earrings HE gifted you.

HE should be the one in Han's place making you laugh, HE should be the one close to you.

And it's not as if he hasn't tried, as if he didn't put in any effort to reach out.

He did and yet, somehow, you managed to slip away, evaded his grasp every single time as if you were nothing more than a lovely play of his imagination.

***

You like your friend's family, you really do, and especially with one of their uncles, Han, you get along splendidly.

He's funny, although primarily unintentionally so because of how full he is of himself, and carries himself with an ease that's contagious.

Most importantly though he does an incredible job distracting you from the fact that Luke and you haven't exchanged a single word for the entirety of the evening.

From time to time you can feel his eyes on you but nothing more and, as a result, you've been growing increasingly fidgety and nervous.

He knows something is up, must have noticed how you're going out of your way to avoid any interaction with him.

Oh, if only it weren't for that damned mistletoe, there would be no problem at all.

You weren't this concerned when it was first brought in, so sure that its only serving purpose was meant to be a final touch to the decorations.

How nice of your friend's relatives to bring something along!

Though rather quickly you realized how very very wrong that assumption was and immediately started panicking.

How, in all the worlds, were you supposed to handle a kiss from Luke?!

If he would even want to kiss you, that is, whispered a nasty little voice of self doubt in your head, promptly introducing you to a whole new world of worries.

What if he rejected you?

All of a sudden it didn't matter that he had known about your feelings towards him for a while now, that you spent a lovely few weeks preparing for the holidays together.

It didn't matter that his gift was singlehandedly the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your eyes upon and which surely must have cost him a fortune.

He may have grown fond of you, yes, of that you can be relatively sure now, but how are you supposed to know if there's more to it than that?

If his feelings go beyond those a father has for their child?

Are you supposed to find out under the mistletoe? In front of everybody?

What if you were to share a kiss and it meant nothing to him but everything to you?

What if he'd leave you there, with weak knees and a flushing face, like nothing happened?

No.

Not tonight; not on a night that is meant to be joyous and light hearted.

***

Later, as the last guests are saying their goodbyes on the steps in front of the house, you are carefully making your way into the kitchen, hoping not to catch anybody's attention.

You'll have to come out of there eventually, you know, and sooner than later, but for now you're safe.

Surely, in all of this confusion of jackets and shoes and presents and hugs, nobody will think to take a look in here, not when they're already halfway out of the door.

Admittedly your feeling of relief is very nearly one of pride as well.

With the family's department the mistletoe has lost its power and you emerged on the other side victorious.

You did it! No awkward swooning, no hurtful rejection, no forced closeness, no unanswered questions; your little plan worked.

Happily humming to yourself you begin storing away the dishes, when you hear foot steps behind you.

Your friend! Great, you could definitely use a helping hand amidst this chaos and-

With a request already on your lips you turn around but all that leaves you is a squeak when instead you come face to face with the one person you've been trying so hard to evade.

Just barely fast enough to tighten your grasp on the expensive porcelain plate you were holding, you manage to save it from shattering on the floor in thousands of pieces.

Hoping to mask your fright with indignation, you angrily look up at Luke and are about to speak when he cuts across the room towards you, forcing you to retreat until your back hits the sink with a dull thump.

"Luke-", you start in surprise but he's quick to stun you into silence with how he leans forward to place his arms on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

Clearly pleased about having caught you so off guard he chuckles and tilts his head to get a better look at your facial expression.

"Playing hide and seek, little mouse?", Luke whispers close to your ear, his voice excitingly rough.

A shiver runs down your spine.

He's so close you can feel his hot breath on your face.

So easy; it'd be so easy to raise yourself on your toes and then-

Your heart stops when he parts his sensual lips, your knees buckling beneath you.

Is this really happening? Will he-

"Come on.", he demands.

Taking your wrist he leads a bewildered you across the room, leaving you no choice but to quickly follow behind.

Before you have a chance to speak, to ask, to do anything, he stops and turns, swiftly pulling you closer.

It's quiet for a few seconds as his shockingly blue eyes bore into yours in a way that makes your poor heart stutter and your breath halt; then his gaze and grip soften.

And suddenly he seems upset, agitated.

"I missed your company tonight.", he says, speaking much gentler now. "I had hoped to spend more of it in your presence. With you."

"Oh..."

Your answer is more of a sigh than a word, really, but you are capable of nothing more.

This isn't what you expected.

Luke's hands are still holding on to you, before slowly, oh so slowly, they move to brush your hair aside.

Carefully he tucks it behind your ears and finally he's able to take a proper look at his gifts framing your face.

He smiles a sad smile.

"It's okay. There's just-", he sighs, needs to close his eyes, to gather himself, "there is something I still wish to do, before...before I can let you go."

"W-what...?"

It's like the time around you slows to a halt when he angles your face towards his and leans forward.

As his lips touch yours, light like a feather, barely even there, your questions dies in your throat.

And at last you spot the mistletoe directly above your heads.

The kiss doesn't last long, in fact it's over before it even started, before you can even think to close your eyes.

Yet he doesn't let go.

Breathing heavily he looks down at you like in a trance, like he can't believe what he just did.

His thumbs brush roughly over your cheeks again and again and you feel his other fingers flexing at the nape of your neck, holding on tight, like he's afraid you'll vanish if he isn't attentive enough.

"Merry Christmas."

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x you #luke star wars #dilf luke #dilf luke skywalker #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi #fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars x you

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bumpkinspice0 · 5 months

Text

Recovery Time: Chapter 1

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Ten years into the outbreak and you'd seen a lot. Through it all you'd managed to make a comfortable life for yourself in the end. A lonely life, but a comfortable one... then a bleeding man comes stumbling into it.

Warnings: dude in distress, serious injury, descriptions of wound care, blood, stitches, shock, I think that's it???

A/N: Let's see if I can write slow burn, kids! (please hold my hand) Got tired of just contemplating stuff in this story and just decided to post it to light a fire under my ass. This fic is inspired 25% by my love for The Last of Us (Games and series) 25% for my love for Pedro Pascal and 50% for my deep desire to abandon everything I know and live in the woods.

Series Masterlist

AO3

_______________

Chapter 1: Mystery Man

Your ass has already gone numb from sitting in your barebones tree stand. It was little more than a seat strapped to a ladder strapped to a tree, but it got the job done— Less conspicuous than a proper deer stand, anyway. Even with numb ass cheeks and a runny nose brewing, the early fall breeze was still nice, not too bone-chilling. The sunrise was exceptionally beautiful today. You don’t recall the last time you watched the sunrise. You don’t really recall the last time you sat this still for this long.

It was too early in the season to start hunting, but you were feeling lucky. And, if you were being honest, just needed to get away from the cabin. From the monotony of daily life you’d created. This was as outside of the box you could think of— coming out to stare out a field while slowly freezing your ass off.

But it was nice… peaceful. A break from routine. Routine was all you had lately. Routine was safe. Routine kept you alive.

It started out as a little hike. Something to get your blood pumping. You had to justify it, of course, so you turned it into a hunting trip. Nothing can be done without purpose. Not in this world. What’s the worst thing that could happen— you actually bring some meat home?

Four hours without a single animal passing through your vantage point and you start to have your doubts. You would have been better off walking through trails and looking for rabbits, but something about just sitting sounded so fucking nice. Just sitting. Not doing a goddamn thing.

You both cherish and hate it at the same time.

Finally, you see movement just over the hill of the clearing. About damn time. Your grasp tightens around your bow in anticipation. You click your cheek to get Gus’s attention just below you. He’d more than likely fallen asleep by now. You look down the trunk to see your loyal companion's ears perk up. The black and white border collie rises and shakes off the leaves from his coat, ready to pounce and give chase as soon as your arrow flies. Both your eyes fixed on the movement in the clearing. It was big. You’re praying for a deer or, god willing, an elk. God, you’d be set through most of winter if you got an elk.

The animal stalks closer, a little over a hundred yards away. The tall golden grass obscures most of its body but once it takes a few more steps you can finally make it out— it’s definitely not any deer.

It’s a man. A very, very injured man. He’s limping, blood staining nearly every inch of him.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

You’re instantly tense, a rush of adrenaline pumping you to full alert. This was the first person you’d seen in— you can’t recall how long— and look at him. Any inkling of him being a possible threat is instantly dismissed. He’s barely walking, if you could even call it that. The possibility of him being infected crosses your mind, but there’s too much purpose to his movements. Too much humanity still left in his face.

Then why was he out here?

The likelihood of this being a trap crosses your mind next, but you quickly abandon the thought when you see him drop his rifle and pack and take a good ten steps past them. If he was acting, he deserves an Academy Award. He looked absolutely exhausted. If his pitiful walking wasn’t convincing enough, his dirty, tattered body was.

You let out a gasp when he finally collapses with a nasty thud. Gus lets out a small ruff below— just as engrossed with the stranger as you. Now what?

What do you do with this? What the hell do you do?

You could help him— of course you could. That’s who you are, what you used to be at least. Someone who helped people. You have all the skills and necessities to do so. You want to help him. Everything in you is screaming to just go up to him— but you have to be smart. You don’t have the luxury of acting on kind will anymore.

The mystery man lies there motionless as you quickly weigh your options.

This could still be a trap. Even if he wasn’t the one setting it, he could be the bait. You hadn’t encountered it before but you’d heard stories of the raider's tactics. To lure people out with sympathy. Even if he was, Gus would have surely alerted you if there were more nearby by now.

You test this theory as you slowly crawl down from the tree stand and lurk low to the ground, Gus prowling beside you. You take a few steps into the grass and he doesn’t stop you. The coast must be clear. You always trust that dog's instincts above all. He hasn’t led you astray yet.

Still, there’s more to debate while you let a man bleed out in front of you.

He could have been followed, but something tells you that wasn’t likely either. Or at least if he had been, they would have easily caught up to him in his condition.

Or you’re just hoping that was true.

And the worst option… He could still be infected. You’d never seen an infected come out this far. Hell, regular people never came out this far. They just didn’t. Nothing about his movements or mannerisms suggested he could be infected. And again, Gus would have let you know. He knows their scent. Maybe he’s bitten but it hasn’t taken hold yet? There’s no way to tell.

And there’s really only one way to find out.

You take a deep breath, sliding your bow across your back. You run swiftly through the grass with your dog close at your side, doing your best to remain low and somewhat hidden by the foliage. This was insane. This was stupid. This is risking so much and yet you can’t stop yourself. Even after all these years, that need is still embedded in you. The need to help.

You kneel next to the mystery man and Gus circles the two of you, the ever-vigilant guard dog.

“Hey…Um, sir?” you say awkwardly as you tap the side of his face. There’s some small movement in his rugged features but nothing resembling consciousness. He’s out cold.

You quickly assess the obvious damage to him. Your hands lightly glide over his body, checking for broken bones, any bloodied wet spots…or bite marks. He’s bandaged something across his stomach with some ripped fabric and duct tape. You carefully peel back the soaked-through fabric to see two nasty lacerations stretch over his stomach, one on each side. You’re not sure how deep they are and you don’t want to dig your unsanitized hands in it to find out. That was the worst of it. He was covered in small scrapes and bruises. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised. He’d fought his way out of something. A twinge of fear pricks in the back of your mind that he may have been followed after all. You end your examination on his left ankle— definitely badly sprained if not broken entirely. The flesh around his boot was swollen and red.

But nothing that remotely resembled a bite. Gus gives him a good sniff over and you get the final approval. This man isn’t infected. Just mortality wounded— great.

You sling his gun and backpack across your back and lean over the stranger, giving yourself one final chance to debate all of this.

You could take his stuff and run. Leave him for the birds. Had the world really made you so bitter? No, you know it hadn’t. If you left him here, this man’s death would be on your conscience every day. A death you could have prevented. It’s just not in your nature to be so selfish, even after everything. Even if you couldn’t save him, you’d at least know you tried.

You had the means to get him back home. You’d wheeled out one of the small wagons with you in hopes you’d be bringing some fresh meat back. Well, you guess you still are— It’ll just be live meat. Hopefully live, at least.

If you help him, it’s another mouth to feed. Someone to take care of and bandage on top of your daily work. Are you willing to do it? You’d done it for others before, but that felt like a lifetime ago. Is it still worth it?

Yes, you decide.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.” You assure him as you hook your arms under his shoulders and start to drag him back into the tree line. Even if he can’t hear you, talking at least comforted you. You always talked to your patients anyway.

“Christ, you’re heavier than you look.” You wheeze, shuffling as quickly as you can back to the tree line.

Gus walks with you, still on edge. He sniffs at the curious stranger cautiously. You’re sure he’s not going to like any of this. Gus was never a fan of any of the men you brought home— not that you brought that many.

You awkwardly lift Mystery Man into your two-wheeled wagon and toss in all of your combined supplies. Time was of the essence if he’d lost as much blood as you thought he had— and your home was over a mile away. You take a moment to gather yourself before picking up the wagon handles and marching as quickly as possible through the wooded terrain back to the cabin.

At least the September air was still pleasant. Not too hot, not too cold. The humidity of summer dissipates as fall creeps into the woods. You wish you had time to admire the changing of the leaves, but not today. At least you got to watch the sunrise.

You’re absolutely drenched in sweat by the time the cabin’s finally in sight. You don’t recall ever being so happy to see it. No one’s followed you and Gus hasn’t alerted you to anyone else's presence. Well, that at least makes you feel a little better. You likely still won’t light a fire for the next few nights, just in case.

The journey isn't over yet, though. You drop the wagon with an angry thud against the porch.

“Here we are!” You say to the practical corpse of a man as you hoist his upper body back into your arms, “God, imagine how much you’d weigh with all your blood.”

You drag him to the living room floor, deciding to roll him into a proper bed once you clean his wounds and take care of whatever needs taking care of— a lot. A lot needed taking care of with him. First, you get his filthy flannel out of the way, unbuttoning it to reveal the full map of bruises across his toned torso. It just further confirms your suspicions of him being in a fight. A bad one.

“Don’t move!” You instruct the still man. You’re probably talking too much given the situation, but it’s helping you process it all. Gus waits silently at the door as you panickedly rush through your home. You start to boil two large pots of water over the wood stove. One empty and one with gauze and towels. Your water was decently filtered but you’re not taking any chances on possibly making this gravely injured man even sicker with an infection because you don’t have fucking chlorine in your water.

While the water boils you ready your other supplies. You grab your untouched medical supplies from the closet and drop them next to Mystery Man. You quickly dig through the old bag, praying you have any kind of antibiotics left. Luck seems to be on your side for once today, finding a still half-full bottle of amoxicillin in the bottom of the medical bag. You organize the chaos, lining up all your necessary supplies on a towel. It wasn’t an OR but it was…something. This wasn’t necessarily a sterile environment but it was the best you could do.

The water should be sanitized by now. You take the pots off the stove and gingerly place them next to your other supplies. Another few minutes to thoroughly wash your hands and you’re good to go. While this man had lost a lot of blood, his biggest risk factor at this point was infection— the slow painful death kind, not the walking fungus kind. Both are terrible options, really.

You kneel next to him amongst your scattered supplies, taking a deep breath to gather yourself once more before you begin your work. When was the last time you did this? Who was your last patient? It’d been years , what if you’d forgotten everything? Your isolation out in the woods could have slowly rotted your brain. Still, going through the process in your head, you can recall every step. Sure, it’d been a while but you knew what to do. Just because it’d been so long doesn’t mean your skills dried up like a well—right? You’re still a medic. You’ve got this.

“You can still do this,” You assure yourself with another steady breath. You’d done this thousands of times before. He’s no different than the rest.

Your clean hands ghost over him, deciding where to start. The massive cuts on his sides seem like a good place. You need to clean them, both to get any filth out of them, but also just to see how serious it is. If this wound was deep enough to puncture any organs there’s a good possibility there’s nothing you could do for him.

Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

The wound on his right stretches from his stomach to just below his ribs. The left one is smaller, stretching down vertically about 6 inches, stopping just above his hip. They look maybe 2 days old, based on the bruising and ridiculous amounts of dried blood. He may have saved his life with those shotty duct tape bandages in the field, but there was still a lot that needed to be done. You take a cup of clean water and pour it over the first wound. Blood and dirt trickle out of it. His muscles react to the sensation but he still doesn’t wake up. You pour more water over it and start dabbing it with a towel. You had to take this part slowly. You had to be gentle and observant just to see how bad it was.

You breathe a sigh of relief when there’s eventually only blood rinsing out. No pus or mystery liquid that should definitely be somewhere else. After a thorough cleaning, you feel confident enough to stitch him up. Fishing line is the best you have, but it’ll have to do.

You repeat the same process for the wound on his other side— also a clean cut.

Once he’s all cleaned up and closed, you tape a few layers of gauze over each one and a layer of compression bandages over that. You even top it off with a shot of amoxicillin. Better care than you were able to give some of your other patients, that’s for sure.

“God, I hope you’re not allergic to this,” You say as you inject the potential life-saving liquid. If that does its job, this guy might just have a chance.

His other wounds were trivial in comparison. Smaller cuts or bruises you couldn’t do anything about. Less life-threatening than the giant new holes around his stomach.

“Well, that’s the worst ones taken care of,” You sigh with little relief, wiping some sweat from your brow, “Unless you’re bleeding from somewhere else I can’t see.”

You looked down at his remaining blood-soaked clothes. If you had to guess you’d say he lost nearly a liter, but maybe not all of it was his— again, you try not to think about it right now.

You turn your attention to his other grave injury— his ankle. The skin around the joint is tender and red, swollen to nearly double the size of his other leg. You have to get his boot off. If you were treating this like a proper emergency situation you’d have just cut the boot off. Instead, you take the time to carefully unlace them completely and they slide off with no problem. Good boots are hard to come by and this guy's clothes are almost all trashed as it is. The stiffness of the leather boot may have just saved this man’s foot in the long run.

His ankle was badly sprained, if not broken. None of the tendons seem completely severed so he’ll walk again— thank god. Lord knows you don’t know how to perform actual surgery. The best option for it regardless is to stabilize it. You wrap his foot in compression bandages and immobilize it on each side with a ruler and a wooden spoon. It’s not pretty but it gets the job done just the same. You wished you had ice to help with the swelling. You’ll have to check and see if you have any anti-inflammatories left to help with that.

With his two main injuries stabilized you continue to look over and patch up any of his smaller wounds over the next hour. None as nasty as the cuts on his stomach, but plenty were just more risk for infection. Some are just scrapes… some look fairly similar to shallow stab wounds you’d seen before. You repeat the same process for all of them— Your two bowls of water slowly become crimson red as you work.

His breath remains steady the whole time. Whoever this guy is, he’s a fighter. The scars that already littered his skin were proof enough of that.

Once satisfied with your work you drag him over to your bedroom and wrap him in a few blankets. With no shirt and tremendous blood loss, he’s going to wake up cold. You do your best to hopefully make him comfortable.

That’s it. You’ve done everything you can do. All that was left was to wait.

More premature relief blankets over you as you wash your bloodied hands off in the bathroom sink, fingers trembling from the adrenaline coming down. Your mind drifts back to your brief time as a nurse— back when the world was whole. Within your first week in the ER, you’d seen dozens of injuries worse than his. After the breakout, you’d seen hundreds more. Still, your proper education was nearly ten years ago now.

The rest of your medical history was stuff like this. Injured folk at the end of the world who needed an actual doctor, but you were the best they had— and that’d been a long time ago too. You still can’t quite recall when your last patient was.

And of course, the first person you see in years just happens to end up a patient as well. A long-term patient.

With him tucked away and bandaged up, you turn your attention to his supplies. You unload his gun. Only four rounds left. You place the bullets in your junk drawer in the kitchen and drag all his gear into the room, placing it at the foot of the bed. Despite having hovered over him for the last few hours you finally take a moment to just… Look at him. He’s rather handsome, you suppose. For a guy living through the apocalypse. A strong chin and nose framed with a slowly peppering beard. Dusty curls with rich tan skin. If you had to guess you’d say his eyes were brown. The lines on his face are deep with character. Okay, he was very handsome.

Upon just observing him, more of your foolish decision-making hits you. You didn’t know this man, and you brought him into your home. You put him in your bed! You don’t know his past or what he’s capable of. In his condition, he wasn’t currently capable of much at all. You’re sure you could overpower him if it came to violence when he woke up. If that’s how it had to be, then that’s how it had to be. You pray it wouldn’t come to that, though.

If Art were still here, he’d be absolutely livid right now. Then again, there was very little that didn’t set him off. He’d be so disappointed in you if he’d seen what an idiot you’d been here. Probably both for bringing a stranger into his home and your shotty patch job.

“You don’t owe anyone anything, and neither do I. Not anymore,” Your old mentor’s voice rings in your head. Stubborn, brutish old man— you missed him so much.

You suddenly remember who your last actual patient was. You’d learned your lesson once. Helping people had a price. A physical one sometimes. Suddenly you can feel every ridge of the scars on your lower abdomen. A constant reminder of the risks something like this came with. Someone you tried to help took something away from you.

You hoped this man was different.

And really, what kind of asshole would wake up and murder the person that saved their life? A lot of assholes probably. This new world is full of them.

You decide to keep your hunting knife on your belt, just in case.

It’s hours later until anything happens.

You’re sitting in the living room when you hear a crash from the bedroom— followed by a pained grunt. Gus is there before you are, his hair raised and a defensive growl in his throat. You rush to the door and there he is, your mystery patient up and walking. Well, sort of.

He’s rolled out of the bed, knocking over a lamp that hasn’t been turned on in months in the process. He’s trashing in the tangled sheets, trying to get himself up.

“Easy!” You say first to him, “Easy!” You say again to Gus. The dog backs down, still standing defensively between your legs.

“Who are you?” The man wheezes out, “Where am I?” His voice is deep and raspy but there’s barely any power behind it. You can tell he’s trying to be threatening but he’s too weak to do much of anything. He’s shivering. His eyes are darting around the room, likely looking for anything he could use as a weapon.

He can’t manage to stand on his own two feet so you think you're probably safe.

You raise your hands and crouch down to his level. He’s tense— A panicked animal backed into a corner. You have to be calm, show him you’re not a threat. You slowly offer a hello and your name. “I saved your life. You’re beat up pretty—”

“Where am I?” He repeats with more force this time.

“Safe. My house.” You say calmly but with force, not letting him have control of this conversation, “I assume not far from wherever you got the shit beaten out of you.”

He flinches with a hiss of pain, grasping at his side. He’s going to open his stitches if he keeps thrashing around like this. You need to get him back into bed. He needs to rest. You need to calm him down.

You take a careful crouched step towards him.

“Don’t.” He snarls.

“Look, mister,” You sigh, sitting back on your heels, “Why would I have brought you here? Why wouldn’t I have just left you out there to die, hmm?”

“You might want somethin’. I don’t know what side you're on. Who you work for. ”

“Yes, because you have so much to offer right now,” You can’t help but roll your eyes, “I’m on the side that gets you in the bed and to stop writhing on the ground. You’re gonna—”

“You a raider?”

You raise your eyebrows and almost scoff at the accusation. Did you look like a raider? Is this what raiders looked like? You?

“I’m your fucking doctor and I’m ordering you to get back in that bed.”

You should be more patient with him. You really should. You have no idea what he’d seen or what really happened to him. You thought you had given him ample reason to trust you but you’re still a stranger to him. And he’s woken up in a strange place after god knows what.

Give him more reason to trust you. Kindness can still go a long way in this world. You believe that.

You reach over to the foot of the bed and drag his backpack and boots into view, “Here’s your stuff. I’m washing your shirt, though I’m not sure it’s salvageable at this point. Your rifle is there in the corner. I have the bullets for safekeeping.” You push the bag closer to him, “I saw you go down in a field about a mile north from here, I brought you here, I fixed you up. I’m nobody. I just want to help.”

You hold each other’s gaze for a moment, searching for answers in the other’s eyes. You were right, his were brown. He looks down, snagging the pack from your grasp. He riffles through it, taking a quick inventory of everything. Trust established— however minuscule it was.

Or that’s what you thought.

In the split second your guard is lowered he springs forward, pushing you out of the way and tumbling into the hallway. Luckily, he doesn’t get far. Gus bites at his pant leg almost needlessly. The stranger didn’t even have the strength left to make it to the kitchen.

“Have to get back. Have to—” he mumbles incoherently as you approach his curled-up form.

A sane person would cut their losses here, toss him out in the cold, and wash their hands of such a burden. Lucky for him, you hadn’t been completely sane in years. With another heavy sigh, you lean over to help him to his feet. He doesn’t fight you.

“Tess?” Mystery Man deliriously mumbles, limping back to the bedroom on your arm. Well, it seems like your entire interaction was a faded memory. It was common with this kind of trauma. He’s still in survival mode.

“No,” you grumble, laying him back down on the bed. “Not Tess.”

“I have to– Tommy—” his delirium continues, eyes fluttering open and closed just trying to grasp consciousness. Calling out to the people he knows, not you.

“Hey,” you lightly grab his shoulder. His attention focuses on you again, “You’ll see them again, I promise. Right now you have to rest.”

He studies you again and you start to wonder if he’s going to make another break for it. Thankfully, his only response is a single nod.

“I’ll be right back,” You quickly step out of the room and grab him a glass of water. You offer the glass and he studies it for a moment before chugging it down like a feverish child. He slowly rolls back into the bed with a heavy sigh. You take the empty glass back. “Rest for now. Call me when you're up again and you can have something to eat.”

He’s already passed out again before you finish your sentence.

#joel miller #joel tlou #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #Recovery Time Fic

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thepaperpanda · 2 years

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𝓓𝓪𝔂 5 - An Aggressive Gentleness || Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Everyone knows Hangman is good, but you'll have a chance to discover that he simultaneously has a bit of a persuasive streak as well.

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v, spanking)

Word count: 2325

Author: Rouge

A/N: the the prompt for today is: Spanking

Jake "Hangman" Seresin was one of the world's greatest and most successful pilots. He was a known womanizer, and he had as many downed planes as broken hearts among all the women he dated.

Yet, ever since you joined his team, he couldn't take his gaze away from you; you were not only a beautiful, young woman, but you also had a strong personality.

"I know there's a big age gap between you and me, Y/N," he said as the two of you finished the bottle of red wine that night, sitting together on the pier over the ocean. "But I really want to take you out. Would you be interested in having dinner with me one evening?"

As a result, you both agreed to meet for dinner a few days later.

Despite your expectations, the dinner ended up being much more enjoyable than you expected. It sounded too good to be true. You teased, playing with your glass, "Maybe Hangman isn't such an asshole as everyone thinks."

You could feel his knee against yours under the table as you sat there staring and smiling at each other, your hand in his.

Of course, it could have been an accident at first, but when it returned, went away, and then returned again, all doubt was removed. It was done on purpose as a signal, a kind of request, to emphasize the request for a date. Again, perhaps a little old-fashioned, but extremely intimate and alluring.

Jake let out a little sigh, observing your face carefully as he said, "Don't judge a book by its cover."

"If I didn't interact with you on a daily basis and while on duty, I'd say you're an asshole," you concluded, scrunching your face. "You are charming, but you are a total asshole. However, I don't regret our dinner together."

Jake was certain he knew the game because he'd played it before; he was obviously used to dealing with stroppy little bitches like you. He was well aware of what you were doing and what you were up to. He seemed to be able to read you, understand what you were thinking.

He kept gently rubbing your palm and pressing his knee firmly against yours as he looked you in the eyes. "You have the most enticing eyes, Y/N," he murmured as he gazed deep into them.

A cocky smile spread across your face as you made a small yhym sound and rested your chin on your palm. "Just like the last girl, I'm sure."

Since it wasn't the first time you heard those sweet words, you already knew what they meant. This was a popular saying among guys as if it were a kind of spell.

"I can see through your eyes that you are a passionate, intense woman. A woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. I notice a lot about you." As he accelerated, his foot landed on yours and ran up the side of your calf. You were his type, there was no doubt. This became especially apparent when his knee pressed firmly against your closed knees at first, then even more so after a moment or two.

You sighed heavily and decided to stop him. "I have to be honest with you - sweet nothings don't appeal to me at all. I've heard these things too many times to believe them."

Jake drew your hand to his lips. "Come to my flat, Y/N, and let me love you there," he said as he licked the back of your hand and looked you in the eyes.

“If you stop acting so weirdly sweet, I'll go with you."

Jake gave you a brief nod in response.

You took a cab to his apartment. It was a second-floor walk-up flat in a fairly large town house, nicely furnished in that fading elegant style that appeals to the well-to-do and aristocracy.

Hangman turned on one lamp but not the others. The street lights cast a nice, dim, romantic glow on the large lounge. He made no pretense that this was anything other than a sexual encounter. He didn't make small talk, offer you a drink, or request that you sit. None of that was necessary; he and you both knew it. You were there for one and only one reason - to have sex.

As Jake kissed you passionately, he took you in his arms. There was no preamble or asking permission; it was a wonderful kiss. As he held you tight, he moulded your bodies together and his lips found yours. While your lips touched, your mouths were closed, but as you pressed them together they slowly opened. As he licked your lips, he ran his tongue along your gums, over your teeth and into your mouth. Unlike the Hangman everyone used to know, he was patient, slow, methodical, and amazingly erotic. You could feel Hangman's hands running up and down your back.His hands fiddled with your bra strap, the waistband of your short denim skirt, which was just a whisker below your pubis line and the top of your bum crease, and the hem of the white, loose, short-sleeved top.

Jake took your hand and led you to his bedroom.

The room was quite small, but it had a double bed. Although it was dim, you could still see each other. Standing beside the bed, Jake held your hand as you faced each other. Bringing your palm up to his mouth, he kissed its top; he took one of your fingers and softly sucked it, earning a moan from you.

You didn't speak, you'd gone beyond words, they simply weren't needed.

It wasn't long before Jake let go of your hand and stepped back a few feet. With his eyes glistening in the dim light flowing in the room from a streetlamp, he began undoing the button of his heavy, cotton, khaki shirt. Having fully undone his shirt, his fingers were now undoing his leather pleated belt. He was so confident and so assured, which you found very sexy and enchanting. Still, he didn't take his eyes off of you. “You’re so fucking pretty, Y/N.”

Reaching downwards, you grasped the hem of your top. You saw approval in his eyes as his belt came undone and he slowly pushed his zip down. Between the opened edges of his shirt, you could see that his chest was toned and muscular.

You both dropped your tops as if on cue. Jake's eyes wandered over your chest, focusing more and more on your round breasts, almost making you squirm with desire. Through Jake's masterful gaze, you became more receptive to his unspoken persuasions.

The silence was broken by Jake. His erection was evident and clear and gave him absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever. As you dropped your bra, he sighed, "You're so fucking hot, Y/N. What are you waiting for? Go on."

Undoing the brass button on the skirt, you slid the short zip down. The skirt slid down your legs as you wriggled it over your bum and hips. A surge of high-octane arousal surged through you when you looked into Hangman's hungry eyes. You soon pushed your panties down your legs as well.

As Jake took off his boxer shorts, his hardened erection rested proudly against his well-built abdomen.

Seresin reached for your hand, the one holding your panties, as you stood completely naked in front of him. He gently pulled them away from you. His eyes bore deep into yours as he rubbed his nose on the gusset, taking deep breaths as he did so, making animalistic noises at the same time. After that, he used your panties in a rather extravagant manner, rubbing them around his balls and up and down his erection without any embarrassment at all. As if to say don't you dare complain, he stared intently into your eyes before cupping his balls in your panties and rolling them around before pushing the silky underwear back across his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him, pressing himself against you, moulding your bodies into one. As he cupped your round bum in his strong hands, his cock squirmed against you. Jake squeezed and kneaded your buttocks all the while kissing you hungrily; he stroked your bum, pinched it, rubbed it, and caressed it.

As you got your hand between your bodies, your fingers tingled with desire as they ran up and down his erection. It was everything an erection should be; hard, warm, smooth and slightly throbbing.

You then went to bed.

Jake carefully positioned you on your front and laid beside you. The hand that wasn't tugging your hair had slipped down your back and reached your bum. He stroked it and squeezed it. Jake whispered, "You have the most glorious arse I've ever seen," as he stroked it softly. All he had done when you were standing beside the bed was repeated, but he now focused more on your cheeks. After easing your legs apart, he parted your bottom's cheeks. He spent ages running his fingers up and down that sensual groove, on, over and past your extra sensitive entrance to your anus, on the base of your spine in one direction and into your fully soaked pussy in the other.

All hell broke loose within your body and mind. You could not help but notice as your body shook with the various sensations that you were cumming without any form of penetration, without your sensitive clit being rubbed or your pussy's lips being stroked. “Jake!” You managed to whimper loudly, nuzzling your face into one of his pillows.

Jake smacked your bottom several times. Not that hard and not that much, but enough to make your bum sting and for you to recognise what he was doing. Nevertheless, the combination of the pain from him pulling your hair, the stinging from where he'd spanked your bottom and the pleasure he was giving you with his fingers made you cum, very heavily indeed.

You hadn't even finished your orgasm fully when Hangman turned you over. After what he'd just done to you, your pussy was still tender, and your breasts and nipples were still pulsating. As he moved up and held his cock against your lips, you willingly opened your arms and wrapped them around his hips.

The moment he bucked his hips, forcing his dick completely into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around his rock-hard erection, gagging yourself.

Jake's hand hit your bottom quite hard, so much so that it jerked your head from his cock as Hangman turned you to your side a little, to gain better access to your bum. In a matter of seconds, he hit you twice.

Putting his cock back in your mouth, you grunted. Each thwack and smack was probably harder than the last. He spread them over both cheeks. Pumping his girth in and out of your mouth, you gagged, reaching out to massage his balls.

Jake grunted lowly as he hardened. Seresin hit you several more times after he realized you weren't opposed to what he had been doing. Now he was doing it harder, and it was stinging, but not too painful. It was amazing to see that each time he smacked your ass, and since he'd found a sort of rhythm, his cock began to jerk inside your mouth. His hardening and growth increased with each smack. “Fuck, look what you’re doing to me,” he grunted, taking a fistful of Y/H/C hair, tugging on it a little. He was now spanking you with a steady series of blows that covered every inch of each cheek and occasionally drifted down to your thighs. Between each blow, his hand gently fondled your asscheek.

With that gentleness combined with the aggression of the spanking, you experienced sensations you hadn't felt before. While Hangman grunted and groaned and mumbled how wonderful you were and what a magnificent bottom you had, you sighed and moaned at the pleasure you were receiving, taking his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop sound.

Jake then fucked you. Straightforward, you on your back, him on top, your legs wide open and wrapped around him. Jake’s thrusts were fast and strong; his bed was swinging with each of them. It was quite quick and hard. Like the expert he was turning out to be, he didn't offer or ask for more foreplay. After what Jake had gone on so far there was no need for more and he seemed to be acutely aware of that. He didn't need to get you wet and you didn't need to get him hard, what you'd been doing for the past half hour or so had done both of those necessities.

“Fuck!” You screamed, digging your nails into his back, rolling your head back on his pillow. “Fuck you, Hangman! You’re so fucking good!”

“I’m good, Y/N,” Jake grunted into your ear, instantly turning his head to suck hardly on your exposed neck. “I’m very fucking good.” You were obviously soaked and your lips were bloated from the blood that rushed to them during the previous orgasms. No complaints, just a straightforward hard and fast fuck and that, to be honest, was what you truly wanted.

After cumming together, Jake laid on top of you, pinning you to the mattress with his weight, then rubbed your cheeks and neck with his kisses. “Do you want to stay for the night?” He asked simply, rubbing his nose against yours.

Nodding to him, you slipped your hands into his hair and massaged his scalp. "Yes."

Despite his nakedness, Jake kissed you one last time before getting up from the bed. "I'll bring a pillow and towel for you."

As his thick, sticky cum ran down your inner thighs, you rubbed them together and bit your lower lip. You definitely had the best fuck of your life.

#hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #hangman x you #hangman smut #top gun x reader #top gun x you #top gun smut #top gun maverick smut #hangman top gun #tgm fic #paperpanda kinktober #kinktober 2022

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odyssean-flower · 2 months

Text

the winding path of fate ch 10 (scrapped version)

the chapter is coming along nicely. this is the scrapped version of the first half. the final version will be something like this. constructive criticism is welcome

“Madame, are you feeling alright? Please let me know if we need to stop the boat somewhere for a short rest.”

“I assure you, I’m fine. I stopped feeling nauseous a long time ago. The boat has been moving very smoothly so far.”

Despite your repeated assurances, Neuvillette still looked slightly doubtful. He was probably going to ask this question again later.

After lunch, Neuvillette took you to a small dock to the south of the willow tree, where there was a small, inconspicuous boat waiting to take you two to Elynas, where Merusea Village was located. The vishap had followed you and saw you off.

The rowboat had been fine, but queasiness took hold of you once you got onto this boat. It was probably because you just had lunch. Luckily, the boat wasn’t going too fast. You suspected that it was on purpose.

You glanced up at Neuvillette. Like the rowboat at the tree, this boat was smoothly cutting through the water of its own accord. You didn’t hear the sound of the motor, nor was there anyone at the wheel.

Leaning back against the cushions of the seat that Neuvillette made you sit on after you first mentioned your dizziness, you closed your eyes. The warm sunlight felt like a comforting blanket, and the refreshing sea breeze stroked the hair at your nape like gentle fingers. The boat’s steady rocking was soothing, almost hypnotic. Ah, this is heaven. I’ve been missing out.

The cry of a seabird near your ear caused you to open your eyes. You saw Neuvillette standing at the bow. His long snow-white hair was fluttering in the wind, along with his coat tails. He had his cup in his hand, no doubt filled with water. You couldn’t see his expression from here, but judging from the relaxed set of his shoulders, he was also enjoying himself.

In another life, Neuvillette would make a fine ship captain, you idly thought as you observed his stately, erect figure. He certainly had the bearing of one. Or what you imagined a captain would be like from the various novels and books you read.

Your fingers itched to paint him. You were already thinking about the composition and colors. This was strange. Usually, you didn’t really enjoy painting people. You didn’t even like doing self-portraits. Landscapes and buildings were more to your taste.

As though sensing your gaze, Neuvillette turned around and looked at you. “We will be reaching Elynas in about an hour or so. Please, relax until then, Madame. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I am. Please stop asking,” you said firmly and resolutely fixed your gaze ahead. The sharp peaks of Elynas were still just a faint dot in the distance. You could see the shadows of ships gliding on the water. What would their passengers think if they saw the Chief Justice standing in this small, inconspicuous boat?

You turned your head back in the direction of Erinnyes. All you could see now was the shoreline and verdant trees. It was as though that giant willow tree and vishap never existed in the first place. Like it was all a dream.

The seat next to you sank down with Neuvillette’s weight. “Did you enjoy our time at Erinnyes?”

“Oh, I did!” you turned to him with a broad smile. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but you thought his eyes widened slightly. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to. It’s so…so mystical. I wish we could have stayed longer.”

Neuvillette let out a little chuckle. He put his hand to his mouth, as though to hide his expression. “I’m very glad to hear that. I hope the vishap didn’t spoil your mood.”

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “I was a little scared at first, sure, but she was actually very gentle. I did assume there would be more vishaps around, though.”

“Most of them live underwater to hide from the sunlight and humans. I considered summoning them aboveground to introduce you to them, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

The thought of those large vishaps dwelling beneath the ground was somewhat disconcerting, but thrilling at the same time. Erinnyes was supposed to have a complicated network of underground caverns. You supposed they lived there.

Another thought occurred to you just then. “You can speak their language,” you turned to him. “Are you related to them in some way? Like…their overseer or something?”

“Overseer…? Interesting choice of words,” Neuvillette stroked his chin, thinking your question over. “I would not call myself that, but I do watch over them, and they depend on me.”

“I see,” you said. It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t answer your question about whether or not he was related to them. You stared at his slitted eyes again. They did resemble vishaps’ eyes quite a lot. Could Neuvillette turn into a vishap? You couldn’t quite imagine it. If he could transform into something, you’d imagine that it would be something more majestic and graceful, like…

Neuvillette cleared his throat. That was when you realized that you had been staring into his eyes for far too long. Hastily, you looked away, your gaze landing on the sparkling water.

“I…I didn’t know that the Chief Justice’s duties also extend to looking after the wild creatures of the land,” you said. You hoped that you didn’t sound too flustered. “I don’t know how you manage it.”

“Well, those wild creatures, as you called them, are also citizens of Fontaine, so they are under my purview in that sense. And also, the role of Chief Justice isn’t the only role I play.”

You didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of elaborating. For a while, the two of you watched the neighboring shoreline move past you.

Eventually, the back of the Opera Epiclese came into view. And in the distance, the Court of Fontaine loomed over the waters. Looking at it from here, you once again appreciated just how big it was. When you first moved there, it had taken you weeks to find your way around without getting lost.

“What a great view of the city,” you said. “I’d love to take some pictures of it.”

“Why don’t you, then?”

“I’m afraid I’ll run out of film since I took so many pictures back at Erinnyes, so I want to save it for Merusea Village.”

“There’s no need to worry about that. I’ve brought several rolls of film with me,” Neuvillette patted his pocket.

“Oh, really! Don’t mind if I do, then.”

You went to the cabin to get the Kamera, then proceeded to take pictures of the city from several angles. It certainly looked imposing, with its tall ramparts and the lofty Mont Esus looming in the background, but it was simply too gaudy and new-looking for your liking. You found yourself focusing on the sunken ramparts poking out from beneath the water instead. Are those from the last flood period? I wonder what used to be there…?

“You stopped taking pictures all of a sudden,” At some point, Neuvillette had come up next to you, sipping from his cup. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you said quickly. He’s standing kind of close, isn’t he? His sleeve was brushing against yours. “I just got a little lost in my thoughts.”

“Oh? What sort of thoughts?” Neuvillette leaned in closer. Strands of his hair brushed the top of your shoulder. You could smell his cologne. It smelled good, although you couldn’t identify the scent. Maybe I should start wearing perfume…?

“Uh…I-I was thinking about architecture,” you gave a vague answer. He really was standing too close, wasn’t he? Perhaps you should move away a little after all.

It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable with being in close quarters with a man or anything. He was your husband, after all, so you should probably get used to it. It was simply that you were still coming to grips with the fact that you were on this little boat in the middle of the sea with the Chief Justice (who really did look quite resplendent. You should ask to take a picture of him. As a souvenir of this day, of course), and you couldn’t forget how different and warm and comforting it felt to be in his arms. That was all.

“You’re interested in architecture, Madame? Indeed, the Court of Fontaine is awe-inspiring when seen from the water. I’ve heard many people liken it to a fortified castle. What caught your eye?”

“Nothing in particular,” you said. “I was just thinking about how, um, modern it looks.”

“You don’t sound very impressed,” Neuvillette sounded amused.

“I wouldn’t say that…” you said, struggling to figure out how to bring this topic to an end. “I simply have different aesthetic preferences

You felt Neuvillette’s heavy, questioning gaze upon you, but didn’t turn to meet it.

The shadow of the aquabus rail passed over you, marking the halfway point of your journey.

You offered to give the Kamera to Neuvillette so he could take pictures as well, but he declined, stating that he brought it for your sake and that you should take pictures to your heart’s content.

With Elynas gradually coming closer and closer, the skies seemed to darken as well. Elynas was reputed to be dangerous, so in that sense, you supposed that it was appropriate lighting for the setting. Rain wasn’t in the weather forecast today, but as you were quickly learning, the weather worked on its own terms.

Glistening colors in the water caught your eye. A school of fish was swimming past the boat. You managed to get some good pictures. Here, the water was exceptionally clear, enough that you could see all the way to the white sandy bottom.

In between shots of brightly colored sea plants and what looked like old sunken buildings (you hoped), you looked up at the sky. The clouds were gray and heavy-looking. Would it really rain? Hopefully, you would be in Merusea Village before that happened.

“Worried about the weather?” Neuvillette asked, his eyes fixed on the sea ahead. You remembered a story that Muirne, a Melusine who worked at the Palais Mermonia, told you about Neuvillette staring out at sea and causing a crowd of people to wonder if there was something going on out there. Looking at him now, you could understand how that happened. There was a magnetic intensity in his gaze that drew you to him. You had never seen that expression for yourself, though. Perhaps it was reserved for the sea.

There were many things you didn’t know about him, even though you lived with him for months now. The thought gave you a strange restlessness.

“A little bit. Do you think it will clear up?” Neuvillette always seemed to be more intuned with the weather than regular people.

“Hmm…” Neuvillette closed his eyes for a moment. “Perhaps, or perhaps not. It remains to be seen.”

You frowned. His tone retained his usual smoothness, but there was something else in it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was vaguely familiar.

“How annoying,” you remarked. “I’ve always hated it when the sky can’t make up its mind as to whether or not it will rain. It should just stay clear if it can’t decide.”

Neuvillette chuckled. You looked at him questioningly. “…My apologies,” he said. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I simply…found your response to be very much you.”

“Huh?” you tilted your head to the side. Neuvillette was smiling, and his eyes glittered. He was in an exceedingly good mood for some reason. You didn’t grasp the reason, but as long as he was happy…

You asked to take a few pictures of him, and was somewhat surprised when he agreed easily. You were under the impression that he didn’t like being photographed, considering the scarcity of his photos in the papers and his avoidance of being in public.

“Should I pose or, ah, smile?” he asked, fiddling with his fingers. Maybe he was like you, uncomfortable with being photographed.

“No. All you have to do is to stand and look as you usually do,” you said, even as you find yourself curious about what sorts of poses Neuvillette would make. “Just stand against the railing and look out at sea. That would be perfect.”

As you aimed the lens at Neuvillette and looked at him through the viewfinder, it struck you then that from an outsider’s point of view, you looked like a real couple, on a real date.

Embarrassingly, the thought made your heart flutter.

The boys back in your hometown had never interested you (not that your mother would have approved of you getting with anyone who wasn’t wealthy), and the less said about your experiences after debuting, the better.

So, this was truly your first, real, actual date.

Except it wasn’t, really. It was a sham, all for show. It was like a play, almost, performed for an invisible audience. A farce for no one except the two of you (and the Hydro Archon).

But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re happy right now, a voice whispered in your mind. How long had it been since your heart felt so light?

You weren’t sure if that made you more pathetic or not.

You took a deep breath, clearing your mind of these errant thoughts, and concentrated on taking pictures of Neuvillette. He really is very photogenic, you thought. Though he does a look a bit stiff. You put on what you thought was an encouraging smile to help him relax, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Whoops?

After you were done, Neuvillette said, “I do hope the pictures will turn out well.”

“I’m sure they will,” you said, putting the Kamera back down and flopping back down onto the bench. “There is no finer pairing than a handsome man and beautiful scenery.”

Neuvillette made a choked noise. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. “Pardon me?”

“‘There’s no finer pairing than a handsome man and beautiful scenery’?” you repeated your words, confused. Neuvillette still looked a bit stunned. You began to wonder if you had said something wrong. You meant it as an innocuous comment, but it could be taken the wrong way in the context of your relationship. Perhaps Neuvillette thought you meant something more by it. You should rectify things before a misunderstanding occurred.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Neuvillette beat you to the punch.

“You…consider me handsome?”

Now it was your turn to stare at him. “Of course I do?”

“I-I see,” Neuvillette said in a low voice. He seemed awfully caught off guard by your words. That was strange. Surely he was used to receiving compliments on his looks? The papers always made sure to describe his looks in loving detail whenever he made a rare public appearance, and it was well known that he had a legion of fangirls, some of whom had even been sent to the Fortress of Meropide for their extreme behavior.

“I mean, I consider you handsome in the same way that most Fontainians do. I don’t mean anything untoward, sir. Did you find what I said offensive?”

“No,” Neuvillette said, then cleared his throat. He was looking at anywhere but you. You could have sworn that the tips of his ears turned red. He almost seemed embarrassed. “No, I was simply…simply surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised? Why?”

“Because you…ah, never acted in a way that suggested that you did…” Neuvillette struggled to find the words to finish his sentence. Poor man, you were embarrassing him to death. “Admire my looks, so I assumed that you…did not think of me in that way.”

You stared at him with your mouth agape, only to hastily close your mouth when you saw how flustered you were making him. So Neuvillette was aware of the effect that his looks had on people. “Wait, what about that time when I kept staring at you? That counts, right?”

“No, it was different. It felt more as though you were trying to analyze me,” he said. He must be so used to the amorous stares of his admirers that he was able to differentiate between the different types of gazes. His brow wrinkled, as though recalling unpleasant memories. Most likely related to the more extreme side of his fans. Poor man, you thought again.

“I see,” you nodded. “I am sorry if I caused any offence by never saying anything.”

“It isn’t something I care a whit about,” Neuvillette said quickly. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he was trying to convince himself. “I find the fixation on appearances quite baffling and needless, honestly.”

“Really?” you gave him a once-over. He wasn’t wearing his usual judge’s garb, but he was still dressed much too formally for a casual outing like this. The afternoon sun gilded the edges of his white hair, which looked soft and silky to the touch. His hair care regimen must be intensive.

“Yes, really,” he nodded. “I only put up with such standards because of the demands of my position.”

Easy for someone as stunning as him to say, you thought, but felt no bitterness. Maybe it was because he sounded truly sincere.

Perhaps it was that sincerity that spurred you on to say what you said next.

“Even so, I think there’s nothing wrong with complimenting someone on their looks, especially when they look as radiant as you,” you struggled to find the right words. You were never much of a writer. “Looking at you…reminds me of the mountains near my home. I liked seeing them every day. They never fail to take my breath away.”

A thought popped into your head. Wait, a comparison to the sea would have been more apt here. But truth be told, you didn’t have any strong connection to the sea. Mountains, on the other hand, have been the constant backdrop for your childhood, so that was why they were the first thing that popped into your mind.

Neuvillette, who had been looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face during this whole ordeal, remained as expressionless as ever. His cheek seemed to twitch a little, and his lips were pressed together tightly.

“I’m sure that you received far more flattering remarks,” you said, looking at your feet. You felt your cheeks beginning to burn. “But I do mean what I said.”

A nearby seabird’s cry made you turn. Elynas was right before your eyes. Just a little stretch of water between the boat and the island.

You heard a rustle of clothing near you. Neuvillette had taken his cup out again and was sipping from it. He seemed to gripping the stem rather tightly, though it was hard to tell because of his gloves. When he noticed your gaze, he lowered his cup.

He then took your hand in his and raised it to his mouth. Before your astonished eyes, he pressed lips against the back of your hand. The kiss was feather-light; you barely felt it.

“Perhaps I have received more eloquent compliments,” he said, his voice low. Lower than you had ever heard it. “But for some inexplicable reason, I cannot seem to recall them right now.”

There wasn’t a cloud in sight in the skies above your head.

#the winding path of fate #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #my works #pulling my hair out over this chapter fr

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violetsandfluff · 1 year

Text

Laundry Day

yessss here you go, babesssss xx i actually really love this tysm for the concept!

cw: fluff. fluff. fluff. only loosely proofread.

wc: 1014

“Y/N, can you go get the other laundry basket?” Harry inquired, his voice echoing through the bleak, hollow laundry room.

“The big one or the little one?” she called back as she padded into their carpeted bedroom. Whenever Harry returned from tour, there were always loads upon loads of laundry that needed doing. On top of that, she had chosen that specific day to wash sheets, towels, and her own clothes.

“There are still more?” Harry asked disdainfully, sinking back against the wall with his legs straight out in front of him. “We’ve been doing laundry all day.”

“I know,” Y/N sighed as she appeared in the doorway, an overflowing laundry basket balanced on her hip. “But think how nice the clean sheets will feel.”

“My back hurts,” Harry complained, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m all sore, Y/N.”

“We’re almost done,” she assured him. “Only two or three more loads.”

Harry let his head fall backward, hitting the wall with an unintentionally jarring thud. He winced in pain, but Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle at his alleged misery. There was no doubt in her mind that he was playing it up slightly to get out of housework.

“Up you go, Haz,” she encouraged him playfully as she knelt in front of the washing machine and began transferring its contents to the dryer. “The laundry isn’t going to flip itself.”

“I think I got a concussion,” he murmured faintly, placing his hand on his forehead for dramatic effect.

“Surely you don’t intend for me to tackle this chore alone?”

No response arose from the injured man on her floor.

Whether it was on purpose or not, Harry wasn’t sure. All he knew was that a pair of cold, soggy socks was flung at his head followed by an equally wet pair of boxers. Wordlessly, he peeled them off and tossed them into the dryer, quickly reassuming his injured persona.

Y/N turned around to inspect the accessories she had bestowed upon Harry, her eyebrows raising in surprise when she spotted them already in the dryer.

“Cheeky little bastard,” Harry tutted with a begrudging shake of his head.

Y/N laughed before turning to the washer once more, her pleasant mood quickly dissipating as she struggled to free one of Harry’s heaviest sweatshirts from the agitator despite bracing her feet against the side of the machine and clenching her jaw. She gave the garment one final tug before stepping back and throwing up her hands in surrender.

“Let me help, darling.” Harry rose to his feet, leaning into the machine with his longer body as his fingers worked to the root of the problem. The sweatshirt was loosened and released in no time, but the same couldn’t be said about him.

“Are you getting it, Haz?” Y/N inquired as she watched his body twist to liberate itself from the machine.

“I got it,” he managed, grunting as he strained to break free from whatever had caught on the collar of his t-shirt.

Just as she was about to ask another question, an aggravated fragment arose from the machine.

“I’m stuck.”

Y/N clamped a hand to her mouth to keep from giggling, but her efforts were in vain. Laughter spilled out of her like a waterfall.

Harry’s face reddened with a mix of embarrassment and strain. “Go ahead and laugh, love,” he deadpanned monotonously. “I’d laugh if I were watching you get eaten by sharks.”

“I can see the headlines already,” she cried, drawing in a shaky breath before erupting into another fit of laughter. “Harry Styles left concussed and swallowed by a washing machine in his LA home. How pathetic would that be?”

“All in the name of love.” He shook his head, his voice cracking with desperation. “My death will be remembered as slow, painful, and tragic, and really obscure.”

“Harry Styles: A Life. From headlining world tours to a fateful encounter with a washing machine. All you need to know about One Direction’s late heartthrob.”

Even Harry had to chuckle at that, momentarily forgetting his predicament.

“I don’t even want to think about the tabloids.”

“I do. Knowing them, they’d depict me as a hero.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. Make up a story of me being kidnapped by the Hobama conspiracists or something,” he shrugged, his shoulder bumping painfully against the side of the washing machine. “Care to help me escape?”

“What’s stuck? Your sleeve, your arm, your dick?”

“My collar.”

“What is it stuck on?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be stuck,” he reasoned.

Y/N slipped her hand into the back of his shirt, maneuvering it around the collar until she found the snag.

“Jesus, your fingers are cold!” he whined, his entire body tensing.

His collar was caught on a deep scratch in the agitator, presumably put there by coins and pens that had been carelessly forgotten about. Once she got a good angle, it didn’t take long for her to free Harry from his short-lived captivity.

He rose to his feet slowly, grimacing as he leaned from side to side to stretch. “All the blood is draining from my brain,” he said dizzily, leaning against the wall for support as his head cleared itself.

“Not even a thank you?” Y/N pouted, feigning hurt.

“Thank you,” Harry said politely.

“You forgot something.” She reached pointedly back into the infamous machine to withdraw Harry’s damp sweatshirt, whirling around and smacking it lightly against his chest.

“Ow,” he whined. “Soon my cause of death will be murder, not a washing machine!”

“Oh, Harry.” She lowered the towel. “This is ridiculous. We can fool around after we finish the laundry.”

Harry leaned forward slowly, giving her a hard peck on the cheek and swiping the sweatshirt from her hand. He swung it at her playfully a few times, letting out a triumphant whoop.

“Harry Styles dubs Y/N Y/LN his personal hero, claiming that she delivered him from sure death.”

“Easy there, Haz. Do you mind reloading the washer for me?” Y/N beckoned to the overflowing laundry basket that remained untouched in the doorway.

“Promise me this,” Harry pleaded as he ran a hand through his hair, disheveled from a day’s hard work. “If something else gets stuck, we’ll call the fire department.”

“Or the paparazzi.”

“Deal.”

Taglist: @madybeth21 @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @mrspeacem1nusone @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cayleyhannha-blog @whitemancumslut @xxrosebunny @hsdaydreaminghaze

#Harry styles #Harry styles fluff #Harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles one shot #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart

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ghoul-bonez · 11 months

Text

~Stars in Her Eyes, Stars in Her Heart~

Chapter 8: They Will Become Her’s as Well

(Kiri x Fem! Avatar! Reader)

Summary: Learning a new skill is always daunting, especially when you have no prior experiences to base it off of, but when you have a good teacher to help, things become a bit easier.

Word count: 1.1k

Author’s note: Fun little short chapter :) Enjoy!

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~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist~

They Will Become Her’s as Well

Kiri dropped something in front of you which quickly broke you out of your thoughts, or lack of thoughts as you stared at nothing blankley, “Today you’re going to learn how to use a weapon, a bow to be exact.” She spoke.

“Damn, you scared the shit out of me!” You shouted, ignoring what Kiri had said.

“Oops.” Kiri shrugged her shoulders, and used her own bow to tap you on the head lightly, “Just pick up the bow, and don’t break it, I don't want to have to replace it.”

“Okay, maybe I’ll break it on purpose now.” You smiled at her mischievously. You picked up the bow, holding it awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with it.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Kiri challenged.

“You’re right, I would never do that to my pookie.” You smiled at her sarcastically.

“Pookie? What does that even mean?” Kiri asked, exasperated.

“It’s a term of endearment, I guess?” You said, questioning if that explanation was enough.

“Okay, whatever just follow me.” Kiri said, slinging her own bow over her head, the string laying against her chest while the wooden part rested on her back.

You followed her lead, carrying the bow Kiri had given you the same way Kiri was.

“Where are we going?” You questioned.

“We’re going back to the clearing where you learned to ride the pa’li. It’s nice and open so it should have enough room for you to move around if you need.” Kiri smiled, thinking about you falling off the pa’li. Hopefully this would be a bit easier for you.

The walk through the forest was peaceful, but thoughts swirled in your head, anxious thoughts coming to light. You had never been too worried about learning a new skill, but this seemed so daunting. You knew how to use a gun, so this couldn’t be too much different, right?

Much like you, Kiri was having doubts of her own. She had struggled to learn this herself, so she knew it was a hard skill to master. She wasn’t sure how good of a job she would do teaching you, but she was going to do her best.

Once you reached the clearing Kiri turned to you, asking a question, “Have you ever used a bow?” She already knew the answer to her question, but asked anyway.

You shook your head, “No, but I’ve used a gun, aiming can’t be too different right?”

Kiri sighed, this might be a little more complicated if that’s all you thought shooting a bow was about, “Aiming is just one small part of using a bow. First you have to be able to hold it correctly, then you have to know how to pull back the string, then you have to aim, and finally you have to let go at the perfect time to hit your target. It can get complicated, but I have faith in you.”

She thought back to what had told her to teach you how to use a bow, a few days ago the voice whispered, “Show her how to use your tools, and they will become hers as well.”

“Let me show you first, then you can try.” Kiri said, getting into stance and drawing back the string. She took a deep breath then let go of the string, the arrow hitting the target perfectly.

“Okay, I’ve got this!” You hyped yourself up.

You did not “got this”. In fact you were struggling quite a bit.

Holding the bow was weird on its own, but having to hold it and an arrow and pull back the string was a little too much going on all at once. Even when Kiri had made you practice without the arrow first you were struggling, and adding the arrow was just a whole new level of work.

Adapting to the forest was easy, you had always admired it and fit right in once you began trying, but this was different. This was learning a new skill completely, not building off of something you had previous knowledge about.

Kiri had been giving you gentle suggestions on what you could be doing better, and reminders of what she had told you before, but it just wasn’t working. As failure after failure happened Kiri was getting frustrated, and she could tell you were as well, so she decided to take a more hands on approach.

She approached you, who was holding the bow, string drawn back, about to shoot, “Draw your strength from your core.” Kiri moved her hand to your stomach, “From here.” She instructed.

Kiri continued to silently fix your stance, moving your arm up, fixing your grip on the bow, guiding your legs until they were correct, and as Kiri touched you, adjusting your stance and making sure your aim was straight, butterflies erupted in your stomach. Your heart felt like a star, hot and burning, but instead of hurting it brought a sense of warmth to your soul.

“Okay, let go now.” Kiri told you, watching excitedly.

When you let go the arrow shot out perfectly, hitting the target spot on. Bullseye. You let out an excited shout and jumped a few times, looking at Kiri who was laughing at your antics with a hand over her mouth.

Excitement and pride exploded inside of Kiri, shooting through her like shooting stars, bringing a light in the darkness, a success among the failures of earlier.

“That was good!” Kiri exclaimed.

“Yeah, but you did all the work. Now I have to figure out how to do that again.” You sighed dramatically.

Kiri smiled at you, fondness in her voice, “Don’t worry I’ll help you.”

“Okay, so let’s go over that again, and this time tell me what you’re changing.” You suggested. Kiri’s silent adjustments had helped, but you didn’t know what to change from the lack of audible directions.

Kiri just nodded her head, “Get ready to shoot then.” she instructed you.

You got into stance again, holding up the bow and pulling back the string, but this time as Kiri adjusted your body with gentle touches she told you what she was changing. Told you how to change it on your own, and eventually after many shots with Kiri’s help you were able to get one clear shot on your own.

After that you didn’t get another straight shot for the rest of the day, but you were content with that one success. That was enough for you.

Kiri felt pride at both you for your successful shot, and herself for successfully being able to teach you and help you get your clear shot. You had both succeeded, and now you were on your way to becoming a strong warrior.

Word Bank:

Pa’li (Direhorse)

#avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #fanfic #fanfiction #avatar movie #atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow fics #kiri sully #kiri sully x y/n #kiri sully x reader #avatar kiri #kiri x reader

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bonzos-number-1-fan · 2 months

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TMAGP 8 Thoughts: Older Friends

Plenty of things to talk about here but very little reason for a preamble, so spoilers for episode 8 and TMA below the cut.

Okay, so first things first this one launches straight into the case. As incidents go this isn't particularly strange but does emphasise some reoccurring themes we've seen in prior statements. Notably there is a much bigger prevalence on altered spaces, and manifestations that don't neatly fit into Smirke's 14. As I may have mentioned in these posts before it seems like the Fears, or Fear equivalents, in TMP are much more capable of altering the physical world here. The current idea is that its because they're the TMA Fears in some capacity and the successful completion of "The Magnus Archives" dragged them into the physical reality of TMA and even though they were ejected from it they've maintained some capacity to influence the mundane world. Although it will be interesting to see if there emerges a clear separation between what's a manifestation of TMP's native entities (if they exist), and what's a manifestation of the TMA fears. With last episodes Hilltop escapade it's fairly hard to argue that they're not around in some form.

Alice and Gwen hate each other. More at eleven.

Okay, so this next bit will be the thing for this episode. Sam and Celia go visit Gerry to have a chat about the Magnus Institute. This isn't super surprising all in all. I've been expecting it for a few episodes. Gerry was in the same database Sam was that we got in the ARG. So the cameo is fun but not super important as far as new information goes from my PoV. Gerry does seem a lot more chipper this time around so that's always nice.

What I wasn't expecting, and what I doubt any one else was expecting, is a cameo from Gertrude. Her appearance is also much more interesting narratively. We don't know how close these universes really are to each other. Do alternate versions of the same character end up in similar places? Do they pursue similar goals? Because just from this episode, and some light conjecture about the nature of the multiverse, it's very plausible that Gertrude burned down the Institute in this universe. Gertrude and Gerry ended up close in TMA and have ended up close in TMP too. While she wasn't exactly parental in TMA she did at least get him away from his family there. It's not too much of an assumption to make that something similar has happened here. Connect that to the psychological testing the Institute was doing on children, and specifically Gerry, and it's not a big leap to assume that's why the Institute burned down. Different reasoning for it happening but the same cogs in the same machine. What's more interesting here than just that idea that she did the same thing in both universes is that this time she was successful. The reason she failed last time, Elias/Jonah, might not have been in play this time around.

It's also important to note that this could very well be the name and address Sam got emailed to him via John last episode.

The other big thing here is Georgie getting mentioned, specifically in context to her podcast, and more specifically in context to Celia's research into alternate dimensions and time travel. Because there are a few distinct possibilities here. However, I think the most likely one is that Georgie and Celia are both from TMA's universe and that they've gone through together for the same purposes. But it's hard to say too too much about it as of yet given how it's all left off. I think the stuff with the podcast and the like is probably part of establishing themselves in this universe rather than Celia looking into TMP Georgie and then guesting on the podcast. Who knows though.

DPHW Theory: 3366 is a pretty normal DPHW for this sort of thing. You've got some spooky cannibal types but they're more remarkable for what they're not than what they are and what they're not is normal.

CAT#R# Theory: CAT2RBC doesn't really mean anything more than any of the others. But at this point I do feel there should be enough to make a few stabs at what these things could mean. I haven't as of yet sat down to theorycraft so no new updates in this post but if I come up with something I'll post it in the next one, or in a standalone post if it's very compelling.

Header talk: Architecture (liminal) -/- hunger isn't super interesting on its own IMO. What is interesting is how it makes zero references to any of the monsters in this one. The incident is classified solely in respect to its architecture and not what inhabited said architecture. The mention of hunger is interesting to me, personally, because I've seen a few assertions that Hunger/Hunger is the more likely pick for the H in DPHW. I didn't think it tracked well before this but with hunger being used as a crosslink I think it's even less likely now.

This episode shows the limitations of the OIAR's methodology really well. The header is Architecture (liminal) -/- hunger, and doesn't mention anything about the uncannybals (like uncanny, i.e. the valley but they eat people). There are seemingly two distinct things, connected via a hunger, were happening here but you can only file it under one and we know that the section and subsection you choose dictates the DPHW so the spooky monsters don't appear to be a factor here at all which is why it's got a lower DP than you'd normally expect.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp speculation #tmagp theory #tmagp #klaus = kl4-u5

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spicysix · 10 months

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「eddie munson X gn!reader • roadtrip!AU」

2.7k words | prev | next | masterlist | ao3 warnings: trauma bonding! mentions of violence, of torture and of near-death experiences. also, they're both kinda in a bad mood. a nightmare will do that to ya songs of the chapter: ambrosia - carole king • move on - david bowie • i wanna be somebody (and the entire self titled album) - W.A.S.P.

Friday, July 25

Eddie Munson was a hard-headed prick.

Not completely, no, you’d find out already he could be convinced at some point, but it took a while. And you figured the morning after your night in Sioux Falls that he was actually being really nice until then. Because on topics that were more important to him, the man was tougher to break than a brick wall.

One of those topics? His van.

Because Eddie’s back was still not completely recovered from the night he’d spent on the front bench of the van, and because of his nightmare that had kinda ruined his night, you told him you should drive the van to your next stop so he could get some more rest.

And, oh boy, was he relentless about that.

He wasn’t like Steve and the Bimmer, it wasn’t about jealousy or fear of you breaking something or getting something dirty. No, it had to do with the mechanics.

You had both woken up early, thankfully, for he had spent almost an entire hour speeching and groaning and basically throwing a tantrum about how the van was old, bratty, difficult, damaged, faulty. And how the van needed certain specific things to engage, to accelerate, to break, to park. And how the van had tricks and wiles and gimmicks to work.

You heard it all silently, nodding, not doubting him for a second even though his dramatics were off the charts. Only after his show was over and he had thoroughly explained everything about the van’s problems more than once, only then you asked him to show you, and if you could try. He showed you, also complaining the whole time, and then you tried.

And managed it just fine.

“Shouldn’t doubt my expertise, Eddie,” you winked at him — your grandma would call you smug — and he grimaced with a blush to his ears while you left the parking lot you were practicing on and headed for the road. You were cackling the whole time.

You took the I-90 and headed east, as Eddie had been doing since Chicago — on purpose or not, you didn’t know. Leaving the prairies behind and welcoming the great plains’ monotony, the beauty of the Missouri River once you crossed it again, the sun high and almost oppressive above you.

You were still a little tired yourself, but Eddie let you choose the music once again, bobbed his head to Bowie’s voice and hid a wide grin behind his hand as he stared at the window’s landscape, took a nap after two or three songs, and it was all right.

── ⇌ • ○ • ⇋ ──

“You ever been to Yellowstone?” he asked, reading a pamphlet while you gathered some food supplies into your basket.

You had stopped around midday in a town right by the border to Wyoming for a bathroom break and to get some snacks for lunch and for the rest of the road. The mid-summer brought its peak, and so the little town was unusually full of people going and coming from all kinds of nature adventures and travels.

“Do I look like someone who has ever been to Yellowstone National Park on a family vay-cay, Eddie?” you answered without sparing him a look, an abnormal tone of sarcasm in your voice because, yeah, maybe family vay-cays were a triggering topic to you. And you were a little hungry, which in turn got you a little over-annoyed.

Eddie didn’t know any of that, though, and you instantly regretted the way you said it.

“I don’t know you very well, sweetie,” he retorted just as ironically, the nickname raised in pure poison, and it hurt more than you cared to think about in depth. “All I know is that you’ve probably worked at every single retail job in Hawkins, that you go to mine’s to buy… stuff every four months or so without much small talk, that you, Harrington and Buckley are glued at the hip and that we’ve stopped the world from ending together. Nothing else.”

You stopped your strolling through the market’s aisle and turned to him, sighing.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, that wasn’t nice of me. No, I’ve never been to Yellowstone. I’d really like to, though.”

He seemed to be caught off-guard by your sudden sincerity and stuttered some words that he couldn’t completely form.

“And I’m sorry if I never stopped for a conversation when I went to buy stuff from you. I should have.” You took a step further, getting closer to him, and he looked truly startled. Was he really this unfamiliar with apologies?

“Yeah, no, I-” He closed his eyes and sighed loudly, “You’re alright. I was just thinking about it…” He went back to the initial topic, maybe not wanting to linger on the emotional aspect of the conversation since he’d been enough emotionally vulnerable the night before, and waved the pamphlet about tourist spots in Wyoming right in your face.

You caught the pamphlet in your hands, handing Eddie the shopping basket for him to hold instead, and examined it. You went through its pages quickly but with enough attention to catch the most important pieces of information.

“We could give it a call and see if we can make a reservation? It’s unlikely since we’re in high season, but we can give it a try?” you asked, looking at him again and he was still looking at you as if you were a hard puzzle to solve.

He cleaned his throat, “Yeah, sure, we can do that.”

“Not like we have anywhere specific to be or a deadline to meet, right?” You winked, handed him the pamphlet and took the basket back, continuing on your shopping spree, back with your enthusiasm. “We gotta stop by the camping supply store!”

His laugh reverberated through the isle and into a little warm space between your ribs as he went after you with a muttered ‘Fucking Yellowstone, man’ under his breath; following your plans once again, giving you his trust so openly, and you wondered if you even deserved it. Probably not, but you’d take it either way.

── ⇌ • ○ • ⇋ ──

Everything fell into place perfectly in a summer miracle as you used a payphone to call the reservations number for a camping ground on Grant Village, a last-minute cancellation from a couple that had given you and Eddie the opportunity of a lifetime — you were also able to make a reservation for dinner on the Grant Village Dining Room for your first night. And as it seemed, the entirety of South Dakota’s population had decided to go camping all at once and left you and Eddie the final tent to buy at the store. You also bought other basic camping supplies that you didn’t have and deemed important. That government hush money was making itself very useful.

Eddie assured you he was fine to drive and so he took the wheel for the rest of your trip for that day — it was too early to stop yet, but Yellowstone was too far away still, so you’d find another place to spend another night. Your reservation in the National Park also didn’t start until the next day, so you’d have to wait anyway.

You were once again delegated to co-pilot duties, reading the map and giving Eddie directions. You also picked a tape of his own for the soundtrack this time.

Not even an hour in, something caught your eye on the map in your hands. “Eddie, what do you think about a lake day?” He chuckled and shrugged in response. “Look, there’s a lake less than ten miles from here.”

“Let’s go, then.” He didn’t take his eyes off the road to check where you were pointing at the map, just followed your instructions.

You drove for just a little while until you reached an exit with a plaque that read ‘Pine Haven’. In about 20 minutes, after a few more turns, some decision-making about which way to go, and the payment of a fee for entering the State Park, you were the closest you could get to the lake, in what looked like a growing little town with a few houses built. Eddie parked the van a little further away from the road and you both left it, you stretching your arms and legs as he went around to meet you on your side.

A man approached you, introduced himself as Coop, pointed at his house — told you to knock if you needed anything — and then pointed to the best way to the lake (actually a reservoir). He told you all about the region, the State Park, the reservoir, his family; and you and Eddie were enchanted by his hospitality, the fact that he barely batted an eye about the weird combination that the two of you were. So when he invited you to stop by later for a shower and dinner, you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

After that, you and Eddie changed clothes to more appropriate ones in the back of the van and walked a few more minutes until you were finally facing the reservoir waters. Eddie found the nearest tree and rested under its shadow in no time, taking his notebook and a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. You came to leave your supplies by his side and looked around. There were a few families, not many, it was very quiet and you were glad. On the other margin, though, you could see a few more people — Coop had told you the roads were more accessible and the state park was first established there, making it more popular. But you liked that you were on a more recluse part of the reservoir.

You stripped to the top and sports shorts you had changed into — intuitively, subconsciously, somehow you had brought many useful clothes so far — and covered yourself in sunscreen. Eddie had sunglasses on and seemed to be invested in whatever he was scribing in his notebook, but you felt his eyes burning on you from time to time as you turned your back to him. It made you smile for some reason (your grandma would call it wishful thinking).

He was still wearing dark jeans, they seemed more ripped, but less tight than the ones you had seen him using before, and so he rolled the hems up, took off his Reeboks, and buried his feet in the rocky sand. On his torso, he had a white tank — a surprisingly bright color, but you guessed an all-black look would make it unbearably hot for him. The scars on his neck that went up the left side of his jaw to his cheek were pink in the sunlight, but he didn’t seem to mind showing them off.

You approached him and offered the sunscreen: “You should take care of those battle scars, Eddie. They’ll likely be more sensible.”

He looked up at you, eyes still hidden behind the sunglasses (unfortunately, for he had pretty eyes you’d like to be seeing) but he accepted your offer and protected his scars and uncovered arms.

“How come you don’t have any battle scars yourself, soldier?” he asked, still spreading cream while you stretched your limbs.

“Mine are just covered.” You pulled up the hem of your shorts on your left leg and showed him the bite marks you had received from the bats on your first encounter with them when you all went after Steve into Lovers Lake. Turned around and pulled the fabric of your top that covered the bites on your right shoulder blade as well. “I was the one who got Dustin and Erica out back in Starcourt, so. No Russian torture for me as well, luckily.”

You draped a towel on the sand and lied down on it, ready to catch a tan. Your sun marks wouldn’t look pretty, but you weren’t so worried about that.

“If you hadn’t cut the rope, maybe we would be matching,” you said finally, before closing your eyes and enjoying the burning on your skin.

Eddie didn’t answer you. You didn’t intend for it to come out in a mean way, but maybe that’s how he interpreted it. And maybe you weren’t sorry for that — he could use a little snarl.

You were on his team with Dustin in the final battle. You were there because you had been able to protect Dustin once before, and you were trusted to do it again.

Which you did. You kept Dustin safe.

But you couldn’t keep Eddie safe, because he had cut the rope made of sheets after you fell through the portal, and left you and Dustin in the Rightside Up as he went back and faced those demonic bats all by himself in the Upside Down. If he hadn’t acted so impulsively, maybe you could have gone with him. Maybe the two of you would have been a more fair fight against the swarm of bats. Maybe he wouldn’t have almost died, maybe you wouldn’t have to see Dustin crying over his limp bloody body, maybe you wouldn’t have your own nightmares about that night.

You tried not to dwell on it.

You tried not to blame Eddie for it.

You tried not to blame yourself for it.

“You slept on my bed last night?” he chose to ask after a little while in silence, his voice a little shaky, and you bit your lip to stop your own eyes from tearing up before answering. You didn’t like talking about it, and maybe neither did he.

“No, I waited until you slept and went back to mine.”

You left out the part that you watched him sleep for hours, he didn’t need to know. You didn’t need to scare him like that. To make him aware that you were afraid he would stop breathing at any second, that his skin would go cold and his heart would stop beating. Like it had happened before.

No, he didn’t need to know that his worse nightmare was the same as your own.

He made a noise in acknowledgment and you took a deep breath and focused on the sun kissing your skin and the laughter of the kids playing in the water a few feet away. He focused on whatever he was doing, and you kept it to yourselves whatever was plaguing your thoughts. The air was crisp with tension, and you hated it, but you tuned it out. You could talk about it later.

── ⇌ • ○ • ⇋ ──

You didn’t talk about it later.

You didn’t talk about how neither of you dared to go diving in the lake, how you lingered on the margins, only going as further as to where the water reached your knees.

You didn’t talk about how Eddie didn’t take off his tank top.

You didn’t talk about how a couple walked past the two of you and stared too openly and too rudely at Eddie’s facial scars.

You didn’t talk about how you asked just as rudely what the hell they were staring at. But he smiled gratefully at you for it.

You didn’t have to talk about it. You knew how each other felt.

So he dragged you to a more hidden part among the trees and shared a joint with you. You laughed about nonsense together and went back to Coop’s house still giggling. You shared a towel for your showers because Betty (Coop’s wife) only had one to spare and you didn’t mind. You shared a couch during dinner because the table was already filled with Coop’s family and some other welcomed tourists, and you both received tight hugs from Betty before you went back to the van for the night.

You thought it best not to take the tent out of its package, both of you too high and afraid you wouldn’t be able to put it back later — and forgetting about the entirely available back of the van. Oh, well.

You both agreed to sleep on the same mattress, as much space between you as possible, backs turned to each other. After what felt like enough time, after you noticed that he was already asleep, you turned slowly not to wake him and stared at his back for a while. The repetitive movement of his muscles was soothing, and you matched your breath to his. The warmth of his skin still radiated and reached you somehow, even with the distance still fairly big between you two. And his calm, even breathing rhythm scared away your fears.

None of you had bad dreams that night.

end notes: i've made way too much research about this area of Wyoming for this chapter. Pine Haven was actually only Incorporated as a town by december of '86. I have no idea how the town looked months before that, so I didn't describe it a lot, made it vague on purpose. fun fact: Coop is the actual name of the guy who, alongside his wife Betty, founded Pine Haven back in the 50s - at least that’s what the town’s official website told me lmao. i obviously have no idea if they were actually this nice, but i wanted them to be a very wholesome and welcoming couple for the sake of the fic. also! let's suspend our disbelief, i know the chances of them being able to get a last minute reservation on what's probably the most popular national park in the US was very unlikely if not completely impossible. but everything is doable in a fic-world, right? right. to yellowstone we go, then

taglist (is open!): @amira0303 @rupsmorge @wyverntatty

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #lui writes #ifligh

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