#unapologetically stealing that joke

[pikahlua]

MHA Chapter 408 spoilers translations

This week’s initial tentative super rough/literal translations under the cut.

1 "与一"と名付けたのは自分に最初に与えられたものだったからだ "よいち"となづけたのはじぶんにさいしょにあたえられたものだったからだ "Yoichi" to nadzuketa no wa jibun ni saisho ni ataerareta mono datta kara daHe named [his brother] "Yoichi" because [his brother] was the first thing given to him.

tagline 1 自分のものにならないのなら… じぶんのものにならないのなら… jibun no mono ni naranai no nara... If he won't become his...

tagline 2 No.408　努努‼︎GANRIKI　堀越耕平 ナンバー408　ゆめゆめ‼︎がんりき　ほりこしこうへい NANBAA 408  yumeyume!! ganriki   Horikoshi Kouhei No. 408 Relentless eyes*!!  Kouhei Horikoshi (*Note: This chapter title is as interesting as it is incomprehensible. "Yumeyume" is a word that means basically "more, extra, whatever it is but PLUS ULTRA," and "ganriki" is something of a meme Horikoshi loves and uses a lot in MHA that refers to eyes bright and extra detailed to the point of being distracting or over-defined. It can refer to the eyes or even just the "power within the eyes" or one's gaze. All together it's basically just some nebulous sort of concept of eyes that are bright/sharp with dreams or effort or toil or just EYES, BUT EXTRA.)

3 弟が彼の元を去ってから おとうとがかれのもとをさってから otouto ga kare no moto wo satte kara Since his younger brother had left him,

4 約２ヵ月が経っていた やく２ヵげつがたっていた yaku 2kagetsu ga tatte ita about 2 months have passed.

1 所有物を奪った青年と目が合うも おとうとをうばったせいねんとめがあうも otouto (kanji: shoyuubutsu) wo ubatta seinen to me ga au mo He met eyes with the young man who stole his younger brother (read as: property), but

2 彼の眼球は生まれつき薄膜が張ったように艶がないので かれのがんきゅうはうまれつきうすまくがはったようにつやがないので kare no gankyuu wa umaretsuki usumaku ga hatta you ni tsuyaganai no his eyeballs were lackluster from birth, as if they were covered with a thin film, so

3 その瞳に青年が映り込む事はなかった そのひとみにせいねんがうつりこむことはなかった sono hitomi ni seinen ga utsurukomu koto wa nakatta the young man was not reflected in those eyes.

1 僕が「与えた」筈の異能が消えていた ぼくが「あたえた」はずのいのうがきえていた boku ga 「ataeta」 hazu no inou ga kiete ita The meta ability I definitely gave him had disappeared.

2 「他人から奪ったモノ」「隷属させる為に奪ったモノ」はいらないと拒み続けた与一に無理矢理与えた力… 「ひとからうばったモノ」「れいぞくさせるためにうばったモノ」はいらないとこばみつづけたあいつにむりやりあたえたちから… 「hito (kanji: tanin) kara ubatta MONO」 「reizoku saseru tame ni ubatta MONO」 wa iranai to kobami tsudzuketa aitsu (kanji: Yoichi) ni muriyari ataeta chikara... The power he forcibly gave Yoichi, who kept refusing, saying he didn't need "something taken from others" or "something stolen in order to enslave"...

3 こんな事は今までなかった こんなことはいままでなかった konna koto wa ima made nakatta This sort of thing has never happened until now.

1 いや…与一に"異能"がないのは僕の力で確認している いや…よいちに"いのう"がないのはぼくのちからでかくにんしている iya...Yoichi ni "inou" ga nai no wa boku no chikara de kakunin shite iru No...I'm confirming with my power that Yoichi does not have any meta abilities.

2 自我も芽生えぬ頃に「奪った」かと思っていたが… じがもめばえぬころに「うばった」かとおもっていたが… jiga mo mebaenu koro ni 「ubatta」 ka to omotte ita ga... I thought I stole it before I even had a sense of self, but...

3 僕の"異能"が認識できぬ程に小さく機能しないゴミが検査で見つかった ぼくの"いのう"がにんしきできぬほどにちいさくきのうしないゴミがけんさでみつかった boku no "inou" ga ninshiki dekinu hodo ni chiisaku kinou shinai GOMI ga kensa de mitsukatta I found upon inspection a piece of trash that was too small to be recognized by my meta ability.

4 形成時の栄養不足によって形にならなかった因子のようなもの… けいせいじのえいようぶそくによってかたちにならなかったいんしのようなもの… keiseiji no eiyou busoku ni yotte katachi ni naranakatta inshi no you na mono... Something like a factor that did not take shape due to lack of nutrition during its formation...

5 まさか…動いたのか…？ まさか…うごいたのか…？ masaka...ugoita no ka...? It can't be... Did it move...?

6 リーダーあの敗戦の時ーー リーダーあのはいせんのときーー RIIDAA ano haisen no toki-- "Leader, at the time of that defeat--"

7 AFOには触られてないんだよな？ オール・フォー・ワンにはさわられてないんだよな？ OORU FOO WAN ni wa sawararetenainda yo na? "you weren't touched by All For One, right?"

8 しつこいなブルース shitsukoi na BURUUSU "You're so obstinate, Bruce."

9 結果だけ伝えろ けっかだけつたえろ kekka dake tsutaero "Just tell me the results."

10 「あの日以降全身に違和感」…よく気付いたよ… 「あのひいこうぜんしんにいわかん」…よくきづいたよ… 「ano hi ikou zenshin ni iwakan」...yoku kidzuita yo... "You noticed it well...how since that day something's felt out of place all over your body..."

11 因子が２つある… いんしが２つある… inshi ga 2tsu aru... "You have two factors..."

12 生来のものと…出来損ないのような小さいものが せいらいのものと…できそこないのようなちいさいものが seirai no mono to...dekisokonai no you na chiisai mono ga "Your innate one, and...a small, seemingly useless* one." (Note: FYI this term, "dekisokonai," is the word Izuku uses in DvK1 to tell Katsuki that his "Deku" name won't always mean "useless.")

1 ……なんとなくそうじゃないかと思ってた ……なんとなくそうじゃないかとおもってた ......nantonaku sou ja nai ka to omotteta "......Somehow, I was thinking that was the case."

2 与えた"異能"が消えたのは…足りない部分を補う為に取り込み…「奪った」…！ あたえた"いのう"がきえたのは…たりないぶぶんをおぎなうためにとりこみ…「うばった」…！ ataeta "inou" ga kieta no wa...tarinai bubun wo oginau tame ni torikomi...「ubatta」...! The [reason] the meta ability I gave him disappeared...was because he took it in to make up for the missing part... [He] stole it...!

3 僕は兄さんを止められなかった ぼくはにいさんをとめられなかった boku wa niisan wo tomerarenakatta "I couldn't stop my older brother."

4 僕を生かしてくれた ぼくをいかしてくれた boku wo ikashite kureta "[You]* kept me alive." (*Note: Yoichi is likely speaking to AFO in this frame as implied by the art.)

5 他人が玩具やゲームにしか見えてない ひとがおもちゃやゲームにしかみえてない hito (kanji: tanin) ga omocha ya GEEMU ni shika mietenai "He saw other people as nothing more than toys or games."

6 もしほんの少しでも他人を思い遣れていたらーーーー もしほんのすこしでもひとをおもいやれていたらーーーー moshi hon no sukoshi demo hito (kanji: tanin) wo omoiyarete itara---- "If [you]* could be even a little considerate of other people----" (*Note: Yoichi is likely speaking to AFO in this frame as implied by the art.)

7 俺の中に与一の意志が おれのなかによいちのいしが ore no naka ni Yoichi no ishi ga "Yoichi's will is inside me."

8 まだ在るのか まだあるのか mada aru no ka "So it still exists?"

1 与えるも奪うも あたえるもうばうも ataeru mo ubau mo "Whether giving or taking away,"

2 世界一優しい力になったかもしれないのに せかいいちやさしいちからになったかもしれないのに sekai ichi yasashii chikara ni natta kamo shirenai noni "it might have become the kindest power in the world."

3 涙を出せば狼狽させられるから出した なみだをだせばろうばいさせられるからだした namida wo daseba roubai saserareru kara dashita If I shed tears it would make me flustered, so I shed them.

4-8 嫌がる事と望んでいる事を操り貶めそうやって手中に収めてきた いやがることとのぞんでいることをあやつりおとしめそうやってしゅちゅうにおさめてきた iyagaru koto to nozonde iru koto wo ayatsuri otoshime sou yatte shuchuu ni osamete kita I took possession of that which I hate and that which I desire through manipulation and degradation.

9 なのにおまえは nanoni omae wa But you

10 思い通りにならない おもいどおりにならない omoidoori ni naranai did not go the way I wanted.

11-12 ただ欲しいだけなのに ただほしいだけなのに tada hoshii dake nanoni I only* want [you], but (*Note: He's not saying he wants Yoichi and nothing else but that the only thing he feels is desire in this situation. You could read the "only" here as "simply" to have it make better sense.)

13 追っても おっても ottemo even though I chase

14 追っても おっても ottemo and I chase,

1 すり抜けていく すりぬけていく surinukete iku [you] slip through the cracks.

1 おまえのせいだ omae no sei da "It's because of you,"

2 駆藤‼︎ くどう‼︎ Kudou!! "Kudou!!"

3 駆藤！奴の血縁は絶やした！それだけじゃない奴に近しかった女も子どもも疑わしきは全て！ くどう！やつのけつえんはたやした！それだけじゃないやつにちかしかったおんなもこどももうたがわしきはすべて！ Kudou! yatsu no ketsuen wa tayashita! sore dake ja nai yatsu ni chikashikatta onna mo kodomo mo utagawashiki wa subete! Kudou! I eradicated his blood relatives! Not only them, but all the women and children and anyone suspicious who were close to him!

4 もし奴の血ならばーーー もしやつのちならばーーー moshi yatsu no chi naraba--- If [Bakugou] has that guy's blood---

5 あの時何か感じるものがあった筈！ あのときなにかかんじるものがあったはず！ ano toki nani ka kanjiru mono ga atta hazu! I surely would have felt something back then!

1 ー眼が！あの時はまだその眼じゃなかった‼︎ ーめが！あのときはまだそのめじゃなかった‼︎ -me ga! ano toki wa mada sono me ja nakatta!! --His eyes! Back then, he didn't have those eyes yet!!

2 ただの空似だ ただのそらにだ tada no sorani da It's just an accidental resemblance.

3 だが今確かに駆藤に似た意志が だがいまたしかにあのおとこににたいしが daga ima tashika ni ano otoko (kanji: Kudou) ni nita ishi ga But right now, there is certainly a will similar to that man's (read as: Kudou's)

4 時空を超えて じくうをこえて jikuu wo koete transcending space and time, and

5 僕を阻んでいるのだ‼︎ ぼくをはばんでいるのだ‼︎ boku wo habande iru no da!! it's blocking me!!

1 "ワープ"で強制的に引き剥がそうにも転送可能ポイントは "ワープ"できょうせいてきにひきはがそうにもてんそうかのうポイントは "WAAPU" de kyouseiteki ni hiki hagasou ni mo tensou kanou POINTO wa Even if I were to forcibly remove him with a warp, the transferable points are

2 すぐ近くのオールマイトか弔の位置しかない…！ すぐちかくのオールマイトかとむらのいちしかない…！ sugu chikaku no OORU MAITO ka Tomura no ichi shika nai...! only the positions of nearby All Might or Tomura...!

3 これ以上交戦し体を小さくするわけにはいかない‼︎ これいじょうこうせんしからだをちいさくするわけにはいかない‼︎ kore ijou kousen shi karada wo chiisaku suru wake ni wa ikanai!! I can't afford to engage in battle any more than this and make my body smaller!!

4 弔の元に辿り着いても とむらのもとにたどりついても Tomura no moto ni tadori tsuitemo Even if I reach where Tomura is,

5 彼は既に僕を拒否しているのだ争いは必至 かれはすでにぼくをきょひしているのだあらそいはひっし kare wa sude ni boku wo kyohi shite iru no da arasoi wa hisshi he has already refused me. A fight is inevitable.

6 "譲渡"を成立させる為余力を残しておかねばならない "じょうと"をせいりつさせるためよりょくをのこしておかねばならない "jouto" wo seiritsu saseru tame yoryoku wo nokoshite okaneba naranai I must leave enough energy to make the transfer happen.

7 …と思っていたがもういい… …とおもっていたがもういい… ...to omotte ita ga mou ii... "...or so I thought, but enough..."

8 おまえを殺すのもゴールも譲渡も… おまえをころすのもゴールもじょうとも… omae wo korosu no mo GOORU mo jouto mo... "I'll kill you, [reach my] goal, and [do the] transfer..."

9 一括だ いっかつだ ikkatsu da "all at once."

1 来る くる kuru "[Here it] comes."

2 全因解放 ぜんいんかいほう zen'in kaihou Unleash all factors

3 "全ては一つの目的の為に" "オール・フォー・ワン" "OORU FOO WAN (kanji: subete wa hitotsu no mokuteki no tame ni)" "All for the sake of one goal (read as: All For One)"

1 押し通る おしとおる oshitooru "I'll push through."

2 あの膨大なエネルギーを推進力に…⁉︎ あのぼうだいなエネルギーをすいしんりょくに…⁉︎ ano boudai na ENERUGII wo suishinryoku ni...!? "He's using that huge amount of energy for propulsion...!?"

3 一気に総取りするつもりだ…！ いっきにそうどりするつもりだ…！ ikki ni soudori suru tsumori da...! "He plans to take everything all at once...!"

4 ……赤ん坊にまで戻るぞ！賭けに出たか！ ……あかんぼうにまでもどるぞ！かけにでたか！ ......akanbou ni made modoru zo! kake ni deta ka! ......He'll return to being a baby! He's taking a gamble!

5 避けろ少年ン!!! よけろしょうねんン!!! yokero shounenN!!! "Dodge, young man!!!"

6 バカがてめえんなもん BAKA ga temeenna mon "You really are such an idiot."

7 勝てるわけねーだろ かてるわけねーだろ kateru wake nee daro "There's no way you can win."

tagline しかし、確かに、希望を見据えてーー しかし、たしかに、きぼうをみすえてーー shikashi, tashika ni, kibou wo misuete-- However, certainly, looking toward hope--

#my hero academia leak translations #mha 408 #bnha 408 #my hero academia manga spoilers #final arc spoilers #EYES #but with oomph #relentless gayze #unapologetically stealing that joke

[coffincestuous]

i love ashley graves so much!!!!!! she’s annoying. she’s loud. she’s unapologetic. everyone hates her. her parents don’t give a single fuck about her. she can’t do anything right in their eyes. she’s unwanted. she didn’t go to college. she’s a failure. she only cares about herself and her brother. she’s terrified of her brother abandoning her. she sees everyone as a threat. she’s insecure. she has so much internal misogyny. she never feels good enough. she’s mean. she’s an asshole. she likes to draw. she has stuffed bunnies in the colors of her and her brother’s eyes. her brother means everything to her. she doesn’t care if the world burns as long as they’re together. she has no problem murdering people. she has no problem stealing. society has failed her. she makes off-color jokes. she hits back. murder is her first reaction to other women being around her brother. she will eat anything. she tries to cook good meals. she’ll clean but won’t unclog a drain. she can’t drive. she doesn’t have identification. she has a false death certificate. she was going to be starved to death for her organs. she has AB blood type. she summoned a demon first try. she can see the future. her soul is pitch black. she’s extremely mentally ill. she loves her brother. she wants to try shitty food just to see if it’s as bad as it sounds. she’ll set things on fire if she’s bored. she may or may not have stalked her brother’s ex girlfriend. she has plants in her room. her closet has stickers on it. she has a star shaped pillow on her bed. she likes chocolate muffins. she values promises. she doesn’t like change. she has mood swings. she’s perfect.

#ashley graves #tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #coffin.txt

[sonamytrash]

Nothing exciting

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Tags: Levi x Reader, pregnancy, secret pregnancy, Fluff, Krista is a cutie.

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The mess hall was a cacophony of clanging silverware and low conversations, the air thick with the scent of fried onions and meat. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Sasha, Connie, Jean, Ymir, Reiner, and Krista sat at their usual table, their eyes trained on you and Levi, who were sitting a few tables away. They had been watching you both ever since they had seen the scene at the stables, and now they couldn't help but wonder how long it had been going on for. The group had spent the better part of the last few days speculating about the nature of your relationship, with each member offering their own unique theories.

There was you, with your playful demeanor and unabashed affection. It was like a breath of fresh air in the otherwise stuffy environment. And Levi? Well, he was the strong, silent type; the rock upon which the survey corps relied.

The interactions between the two of you were fascinating to watch. Even the most casual of glances or gestures seemed to carry a weight of meaning that the others didn't quite understand. The way you both would sneak a touch or a quick brush of fingers against each other's arms as you passed one another, was enough to send the more observant scouts into a frenzy of speculation.

Sasha leaned in, her voice low but curious. "I wonder if they've been hiding this from us all this time," she mused. "They've always seemed so close, but I never would have guessed..." She trailed off, lost in thought.

As they continued to watch, Krista couldn't help but smile whenever she saw you both stealing a moment of privacy, or when Levi would blush and avert his gaze at one of your more forward advances. The air seemed charged with an electricity that was palpable even from across the room. Her curiosity getting the better of her, "Do you think they've been dating long?"

Reiner shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Hard to say, really. They've always been pretty close. You remember, back when we first joined up? They were inseparable even then." He turned back to his meal. "It would be reasonable to assume they have been hiding it all this time."

Armin, who had been listening quietly to the conversation, piped up. "I heard they grew up together in the underground," he said, his tone thoughtful. "They must have some pretty deep history between them, and their reasons for keeping things quiet, it isn't unusual given the nature of this line of work for them to be cautious."

Mikasa couldn't help but wonder how you must feel during the times when the scouts were beyond the walls. It was one thing to be apart for a few days or weeks, but when the missions lasted for months at a time. The thought made her heart ache for you just a little.

Ymir decided to chime in with a suggestive joke. "There must be something about the miserable bastard that makes her like him. Maybe he's packing." she says suggestively, earning a few chuckles from the others. "You guys are at the stables this afternoon, right? You'll have to tell us if anything exciting happens." She adds, looking over at Krista and Armin.

The mess hall emptied out, and the scouts went about their business. Some to train, others to muck out the stables or tend to the horses.

You were in your element when you were around the horses. You had a way with them that was both gentle and firm, earning their trust and respect without fail. The soldiers looked up to you, admiring your knowledge and your dedication. You were strong, capable, and unapologetically yourself.

Which is why it seemed so unusual when Hange stopped by and told you to be careful around the horses, "Don't push yourself too hard and to make sure to gave the soldiers more work to do." Their words were softly spoken, meant only for you, but they carried weight nonetheless. Krista and Armin overhead the conversation and quickly averted their gaze, looking at one another with the same questionable look. Hearing you insist that you were fine and not to worry. It wasn't long before the captain himself made an appearance, walking straight over to you, his expression softening but still relaying something that only you seemed to understand as you sighed at him, leaving the stables.

After mucking out the stalls and exercising the horses, Krista was keen to hop into the showers. As she turned the corner, she let out a sigh of frustration as she approached the bathroom door, an out of order sign taped to it. Her heart sank. "Great," she muttered under her breath. The alternative facilities weren't as nice or warm as the main showers they would have to do. With a sigh, she decided to brave the less-frequented bathroom at the other wing end of the building.

As she approached the familiar bathroom door, she could hear muffled sounds coming from within. Curious, she placed her ear against the wood, and she heard someone retching violently, followed by the sound of someone vomiting into the toilet. She quickly knocked on the door. There was no reply, so she knocked again, a little harder this time. "Excuse me, are you okay in there?" She asked, concerned.

The sound of the door swinging open made her jump. Your face was pale and clammy, "Oh, hi Krista," your voice soft. "I didn't expect anyone else to be here. The water in here is always cold, you know that, right?" You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

Krista swallowed hard, her heart still racing. "Are you okay?" she asked concerned, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldnt help but notice that you were wearing your casual clothes, and the faint outline of a bump was visible beneath your shirt. Her eyes widened, the conversation between you and Hange at the stables, the captains attitude towards you still doing strenuous activities all made sense very quickly.

You smiled at her realisation, "Well, I'm not feeling my best right now, but I'll be fine." You paused, leaning against the door frame. "And I guess this means the cat is out of the bag." You chuckle to yourself.

"Look, Krista, there's something I need you to promise me." Your voice taking on a gentle but serious tone. "You can't tell anyone about this, you understand?" You gestured to your midsection, your fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt. "My uniform just about hides it for now, I know it won't be long before it's too obvious. But it would just be easier to keep things quiet for as long as possible. You know how it is around here, people talk." You explain.

Krista nodded. "I-I won't say anything, I promise." She bit her lip, feeling both honoured that you trusted her with the information, still completely shocked.

"Thank you, Krista." You reply relieved, "I don't know what I'm going to do. The survey corps isn't exactly known for its family-friendly policies." Your brow furrowed, and you ran a hand through your hair, tugging at the roots as you let out an exasperated sigh.

Krista nodded understandingly, not used to seeing you like this. Her usual passion began to shine through in an effort to be supportive and positive about the situation. A baby was surely a wonderful thing. "I'm sure there's got to be a way to make it work. You're a valuable member of the team. We need you here! and I'm sure Captain Levi will do whatever it takes to make it all work out to-" She bit her lip, hesitant before continuing, realising she had just assumed Levi was the father, confirming your previous comment about how people gossip around the headquarters. "It is Levi's, right?" She asked, blushing furiously, her voice barely above a whisper. Your face lit up, and you smiled at the mention of Levi's name as you let out a small giggle.

"Is it that obvious, huh?" You ask, slightly embarrassed that your relationship with the captain seems to have become common knowledge, you had both done such a good job of hiding it for so long. "That's one of the reasons I need you to keep it between us. You know how he is." You say, rolling your eyes playfully "He can be a real pain about our private life. Hange knowing makes him nervous enough." You chuckle.

Krista smiles sweetly and nods, "How did Captain Levi take it?" she finally asks, her voice curious, the question was burning in the back of her mind and she knew if she didn't ask now, she would never find out. The smaller details and intricacies of your relationship were fascinating to her. Having watched from afar all these months.

You hesitated for a moment, then smiled, it wasn't like you had been able to share this news with many people. "He was... surprised, at first," you chuckled. "But once he got over the shock, he was actually really happy. He's been so supportive, you know? I know he doesn't come accross as the fatherly type, but I know... I know he'll be a great dad." You said affectionately, resting a hand on your small bump. Krista smiled brightly, reaching out to take your other hand and squeezing it lightly.

"Congratulations, that's amazing, really! And a little scary, too, I imagine." She said thoughtfully. "But when you're ready, everyone will support you. Of that I'm certain." She said in an effort to reassure you. You smiled at her "Thank you, Kris. I appreciate it."

The next morning, as the group walked past the stables, Krista saw you sat down, leaving the more strenuous tasks to the cadets, Levi by your side drinking tea quietly, keeping an eye on you no doubt. You smiled sweetly as your eyes met hers, and you gave her a knowing wink. She smiled back at you, Ymir raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?" Krista shook her head, "Nothing exciting."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi x y/n #captain levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #krista lenz #levi fluff

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 12

PREVIOUS

If there was one thing no one would ever guess about FF it is that he unapologetically LOVES Black Friday.

You may be thinking. Ugh Black Friday. Everyone is so rude and tired. The deals aren’t even that good. It can turn into a blood sport at the drop of a hat over a toaster that is 15% off.

You are correct.

That is why FF loves it.

It is the one shopping day of the year where every single one of his instincts are correct, valid, and useful. He has pulled his gran out of the way of elbow drops, he has avoided the gaze of a woman in PINK sweat pants who was looking for someone to steal a blender from, and he knows without a doubt that the cashier hates him already so there’s no need to worry about whether or not they hate him.

It’s like a breath of fresh air!

Everyone is just as antagonistic and awful as he thinks they are!

Shopping is actually the blood sport he always feels like it is!

So there he is standing in a line at the nearest store (Target) waiting to be let in with the masses who all look ready to stab one another for better positioning for a TV. The jokes on them though because his only goal is the grocery section and he deals with the threat of repeated stabbings for BREAKFAST.

He spots an IHOP in the distance and hopes his gran doesn’t feel too lonely. They’ve gotten buttermilk stacks together at the IHOP by the mall for years after the two of them finished Christmas Shopping.

Someone elbows him in the side to get his spot in line but FF does not really care. Again, he doubts any of these people are going to be racing him to the all purpose flour.

It’s 4 AM and the barricades come down.

There’s a rush of people pushing and shoving but FF just steps to the side and watches as they all rush in. He’d mostly stayed in the line because the throng of people made it easier to stay warm. He had left his jacket back at the house because the five hour energy might be making his skin feel super sensitive but he is pretty sure that if he wore his nylon jacket he would die.

The five hour energy also may be upping his anxiety just a little bit.

He walks into the store at a leisurely pace and while the crowd fights over the carts he grabs one of the baskets. He can feel the eyes of other shoppers all wondering if he has some insider knowledge on a good deal that would only require the basket or if it’s a matter of who gets to the back to receive the ‘redeem’ coupon.

He sees a few shoppers get lured in by his siren call and much like a siren following anything that FF is about to do will undoubtedly lead to their downfall.

But FF doesn’t care about that.

He cares about HIS downfall.

So he makes his way to the grocery section and ignores the six different shopping assistants who try and guide him to where he ‘should’ be shopping and each of them only give him increasingly confused looks when he states his intention to go to the grocery section every single time.

Is it easier to ignore their stares when the five hour energy have set his baseline heart rate to something that might be too fast to register as a heartbeat? Maybe.

It is easier to ignore the confusion on their faces when he can see both the past (he asked for TWO favors from Andrew in one day how is he still alive???) and the future (still malleable at the moment apparently. There’s even a future where Andrew actually just is trying to make overtures of friendship but he dismisses that one as INCREDIBLY unlikely and looks at the far more viable one where Andrew at least makes his death quick while he enjoys his great gran’s brownies.)

It’s good to set reasonable goals for yourself.

So he arrives at the grocery section which is deserted aside from one employee who may or may not be asleep against a shelf. FF looks and….not a shelf he needs so he is not about to wake that poor man up.

So he gets everything he needs for his great gran’s brownies (he’s trying to buy his life here so he is not about to assume he can use ANYTHING in the house), the ingredients for a good breakfast (because he really needs to eat something that is not a five hour energy or sugar for the sake of his poor stomach and he may as well get enough for everyone), and (since Captain Neil mentioned it & he is trying to buy his life here) the ingredients to bake another pie.

While he grabs cinnamon he checks to see if they have grandma’s love in stock but, alas, it continues to be unavailable commercially.

He stares at the whipped cream for so long that the employee asleep in the other aisle woke up and asked if he needed help and, startled, he dropped it in his basket. “No I’m good.” He says before power walking out of the grocery department and deciding to brave the Home Goods section to buy some incense so that he can hopefully channel the spirit of his great gran to assist him in this, the darkest of his baking hours.

He arrives at the check out stations and finds the shortest line .

He can feel eyes on him, inspecting his purchases, judging them, judging him, who the fuck goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush?

FF.

FF goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush.

The cashier looks for hidden cameras but FF has no such thing accompanying him today or ever (as far as he knows.)

After a moment the cashier must look at the ever growing line and decide that whatever scheme they think FF is up to isn’t worth trying to figure out. They offer a membership card, FF valiantly declines to get one despite the two attempts.

He is out the door with four bags of groceries that all have a target on them that feels a little too correct. It’s 6 AM now (he really did lose a lot of time at the whipped cream section) and he’s walking back to the house in Columbia.

He actually feels a little bit better since he at least got to experience his actual favorite blood sport (sorry Exy) and he even got another 2 five hour energies while he was in the check out line so he could replace some of the ones that he had gone through.

“Smith?”

He would like to thank the combined weight of the groceries for keeping his feet on the ground when he heard Captain Neil’s voice.

He turns and Captain Neil is looking at him wide-eyed in his running gear that Smith has seen him in. “You were shopping??” He asks.

FF nods and lifts up the four bags as evidence. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” He asks.

FF almost scoffs but he doesn’t, “You can’t be distracted when you’re in a Target on Black Friday. That’s how you take an elbow to the eye.” He responds because it’s like Captain Neil has never experienced the WWE-like environment of Black Friday shopping.

Captain Neil blinks at him.

“Text Andrew or me next time you’re going to go off into the night or just let us know beforehand. Andrew would have driven you.” Captain Neil says and grabs two of the bags out of FF’s hand. “C’mon let’s get back and maybe you can get some sleep.” Captain Neil sighs.

“I’m fine.” FF adjusts the bags so he has one in each hand.

Captain Neil does not say anything so FF assumes that he has accepted that.

***

FF had not been asleep on the couch when Neil had walked through the living room. Neil, in a move that had Andrew fully waking up, went back to the room to check his phone to see if FF had texted him an update on going out. All that greets Neil is the impersonal series of texts that mostly confirmed when practice times had been changed, when the bus was leaving, and spelling on various Spanish words.

FF isn’t a big text person.

He’s more of an in-person kind of friend.

Neil likes that about him most of the time.

“What.” Andrew asks face still half buried in Neil’s pillow.

“Smith isn’t on the couch.”

That has Andrew getting up despite the early hour and their activities the night before. Neil watches as Andrew grabs his own phone to scroll through but seems to come up with the same lack of communication that Neil does.

Andrew does do the extra step and hit the call button.

But all he gets is the confirmation that the VM has not been configured that has greeted them every time FF misses their calls. (Voicemails make FF anxious so when he got his new phone he just…never configured it.)

Neil knew that FF was not pleased with them and somehow the calm request to either stop fooling around or let him out had hit him and Andrew harder than any of the screaming demands that the two of them were usually met with from Nicky, Kevin, Aaron, or any of the other Foxes.

“You said he wasn’t mad.” Neil says.

“He nodded.” Andrew confirms.

“Maybe he went on a walk?” Neil tries as they come out to the living room. They look at the front door and find that it’s locked but it looks like Aaron’s keys are gone. “He probably is going to come back if he took Aaron’s keys since Aaron wouldn’t be the one he’d be irritated with.” Neil rationalizes.

“He didn’t bring his jacket.” Andrew says looking at the black jacket still on the hook by the door.

“We can go and see if we spot him.” Neil offers.

Andrew nods and Neil heads out first since Andrew is still in his sleeping clothes and will need some time.

Neil had not expected to find FF walking back to the house with groceries for breakfast and the pie that Neil had mentioned hoping they could bake at the house.

“Is this for the pie?” He asks looking down at what was in the bags he was carrying as the walked back to the house. Neil managed to shoot off a quick text letting Andrew know that it was fine, FF just went grocery shopping.

FF just nods, “Got everything but Grandma’s love.” He says.

FF is a nice guy to brave the stores on a morning like this but FF also looks like he hasn’t slept a wink.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Neil asks.

“I’m fine.” FF repeats.

Neil really is starting to understand his friends’ hatred for the phrase.

They get back to the house and Andrew is sat out in the living room. FF stops and blinks at the sight of him sitting there.

It is a well-known fact that Andrew does not willingly wake up early most days unless he has to. Neil is glad that Andrew has a friend that he’s coming to care about the way Andrew cares about FF.

Andrew gets up and yanks the bags out of FF’s hands. “Go to sleep. Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.” He says with a scowl and walks to the kitchen to put away the groceries FF had bought.

FF just looks at where Andrew had gone uncomprehendingly for a few moments and Neil figures he’s just tired. Neil feels guilty that him and Andrew messing around in the car like that had rendered FF unable to sleep and the two of them had agreed last night that from now on when FF is in the car they can talk all they want but hands stay on the wheel and eyes stay on the road.

FF is plopped down on the couch when Andrew and Neil come out of the kitchen after putting away the groceries (“These are the ingredients for brownies.” Andrew had noted as he put away melting chocolate.) and he’s looking through his flashcards again and not sleeping. He hears Andrew make a disgusted noise next to him and the next thing he knows Andrew is smacking the cards out of FF’s hands.

“Go. To. Sleep.” Andrew enunciates.

FF stares at him, then down at the flashcards. “I don’t think I can.” He says which is better than him lying and saying he wasn’t tired even if the truth had Andrew’s mouth stretch into a thin line that meant he was beating himself up for something.

“Try.” Andrew orders. “Just lay down and close your eyes. Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” He says.

FF blinks but nods turning on the couch and laying down. The blanket is still over on the lazy boy that Neil had set it on the night before and Andrew rolls his eyes before grabbing it and tossing it over FF.

“Thanks.” FF says before closing his eyes.

Neil looks to Andrew who nods and Neil accepts that there’s nothing else to be done for now and heads out on his run.

***

FF can admit that he’s a bit adrift in what Andrew and Captain Neil are doing right now.

He really should go grab another five hour energy because falling asleep IN FRONT of an irritated Andrew Minyard feels like a death sentence but “Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” And having a blanket thrown over him did not feel like a threat even if he can feel Andrew’s eyes watching him.

FF is tired and when he’s tired he tends to make stupid decisions. So FF lets himself drift off to sleep while the man who was likely going to move him to a secondary location sat and watched.

His dreams are not peaceful.

He’s running, can’t escape, an echo of words he should have considered before letting himself drift off and he knows he’s going to DIE.

He wakes up with a start to the smell of bacon, eggs, and hashed browns with Nicky standing over him. “Hey there sleeping beauty! I made you a plate!” He says and hands FF a plate of breakfast that smiles up at him with a bacon mouth, egg eyes, and hashed brown hair.

FF takes the plate and digs in immediately. He needs his strength.

“Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.”

Andrew Minyard was going to hunt him for SPORT.

NEXT

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As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly? (Cheesecookie whatever you did let me actually select you this time)

#Fluent Freshman AU #Did Andrew watch FF sleep for an hour to make sure he actually got some sleep? #Yes #Did Andrew find the 2 five hour energies and throw them out while putting the money FF spent on them in his wallet? #Also Yes #Nicky wakes up and remembers that he promised FF that he could sleep in his room #So he is trying to make it up to FF with smiley face breakfast #FF's love of Black Friday mirrors my own #Do I like the deals? Eh. Do I like the barely concealed threat of violence? YEAH BABY #We go visit my Fam in Ohio for Thanksgiving and then me my mom and my aunt make a battle plan #Mom's on grabbing duty since she's tall while my Aunt and I are on protection detail #I got a black eye one year but the Xbox 360 was worth it for Tales of Vesperia #then we get IHOP #I miss when it started at like 5 AM #Now it just starts on Thanksgiving which is bullshit #I ain't moving from my turkey coma #AFTG Fic #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG Shitpost #Andreil #FF - Pt. 12

[hheaven-sentt]

you and i

summary: this must be what dante wrote about | bodyguard!leon x f!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: strong language, incredible yearning and pining, self deprecation, angst, leon is sad for like the majority of this tbh, poor guy has a lot of feelings to work through

notes: this is technically a continuation of heaven is not fit, but it can be read separately you just might miss some context. there's gonna be another installment of this probably because i'm obsessed with this concept | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Leon was told what his next assignment was following his harrowing return from Spain, he’d laughed. He had outright, fully, unapologetically laughed. It was ridiculous, the idea that he would spend the foreseeable future babysitting. It wasn’t possible.

He stands against the wall of a conference room. You enter with your father after ten minutes of his waiting, and you barely acknowledge him. He doesn’t mind so much, he’d rather fly under the radar and get out than have to initiate a conversation. Your father introduces him, and he’s not sure that you even hear him. He just toes the carpet and stares forward. He prays to whoever might be listening that you don’t try to speak to him. He’s less than thrilled when your dad asks him to drive you home.

He does, of course, and he tries not to hate every minute of it. You mostly stare out the window, probably pretending that he’s a taxi. He pulls up outside your building, and considers asking if you want him to walk you up, but you’re hurrying out of the car before he gets the chance.

Grabbing your elbow, he says, “Call if there’s an emergency,”

Your eyes widen a bit when you nod, and he gently releases you. You bustle out of the car with no further words.

His apartment is empty when he returns to it. There’s little light save for the lamp on the end table. An alleyway kitchen holds his dinner for the night: a random salad he’d found pre-made at the supermarket. He sits at his pathetic dining room table. It’s only got two chairs, and he never has guests, so it feels lonelier than just having a single chair. But Ashley said it was weird to only have one chair, so here he is. He picks at the lettuce aimlessly, appetite not really kicking in the way he wants it to. 

He allows himself to wonder, for a moment, what you’re doing. Have you already showered and gone to bed? Are you with someone? Maybe watching an old movie on TV? He feels awkward, and shifts around like someone’s watching him. Something crawls under his skin, and he physically shakes the feeling.

He avoids you for about a week. It’s unprofessional, but he can’t find it in him to care. He keeps a close eye on you, making sure that you’re not in any immediate danger, and calls it good. He’s been very vocal about how this is not a job he would’ve taken himself, and although it’s not exactly hard or brutal, isn’t it? Isn’t it cruel to make a grown man follow around a twenty-something all day? He sits in his car outside your apartment building, watching silently and flipping through the radio. He can’t place why, but he hates that you walk to work alone. A feeling he can’t describe gnaws away at him, makes him feel guilty all over and squirm in his chair. You seem to be able to handle yourself. But he can’t shake the feeling of what if? 

He can’t tell if you like him. You’re stiff in his passenger seat, gnawing on your bottom lip. He feels strangely insecure, constantly shifting as if someone is staring at him, but you’re facing away from him.

“Up here,” you say quietly. “On the left,”

He begins to turn right. You look like you’re fighting a laugh.

“The left, Leon,” you say again.

“I know,” he says. “I was testing you,”

It was meant to be a joke, but it comes out gruff and forced. For the love of God, why can’t he relax with you? Why does he feel like he’s being judged, put under a microscope by your gaze? He steals glances at you throughout the drive. You silently bob your head to the song on the radio, tapping your foot off beat every now and then. It almost makes him smile. He is straddling a dangerous line, and he’s leaning one way further each and every day.

…

Leon decides very quickly that he likes having you in his space. A man of few constants is sure to find comfort in coming home to you on the couch watching some movie he’s never heard of. You fit against his couch nicely, breathe a new life into the cushions that were mostly for show when they were placed. He likes that you hold a hand up when there’s something good playing on the TV, and he has to wait for it to pass so he can finally talk to you. He likes that he wants to talk to you. It has dawned on him that he just likes you.

“Wanna grab dinner later?” you ask around a mouthful of chips, syllables muddled and smooshed against the mash. There’s a faint smile on your lips.

He shrugs. “We can do whatever you’d like,”

He wants very much to grab dinner with you. He’d like to do anything with you, so long as you keep looking at him and laughing at his jokes, as feeble and rough around the edges as they are. You swallow thickly and smile at him, and he feels like he floats off the ground.

“I’m thinking italian?” you suggest. “Craving some ravioli from that place downtown,”

“Italian sounds great,” he says, and he genuinely means it. Truth be told, you could’ve suggested trash from the dumpster out back, and he would’ve accepted.

“Cool,” you say, still smiling. It grows when he returns it. “We should walk there,”

He sits beside you on the couch and you wordlessly pass him the bag of chips. “You wanna walk all the way there? It’s a few miles,”

You shrug. “Why not? It’s so nice out,”

“Wear comfortable shoes, then, sweet girl,” he says, rolling the top of the chips down. You always tell him that he’s better at it.

“I’ll wear whatever shoes I please,” you tease. “Besides, if I get tired, you can just carry me,”

He hates the fact that he would, too. He would do anything you ask of him.

You’re dangerously close to him as you walk. Your hand bumps into his a few times as it swings, and he debates on the consequences of securing your fingers in his. He almost thinks it would be easier if you rejected him, that’s a pain he could work past. But if you didn’t? He’d be facing a lot more than temporary heartache; a lifetime of aiming to please, working to avoid disappointing you, and the devastating misery when he eventually does. That terrifies him. To be the source of your suffering is to strike him down where he stands.

“Can I pick your brain for a second?” you ask. He glances at you before nodding. “There haven’t been any incidents since…the one. How do we know I’m still in danger?”

He thinks for a moment. Truthfully, you’re not in any danger, at least not directly. But Leon finds himself continuously advising your father that you should remain with him, and your father always listens. He considers himself lucky that he was there that night, feels guilty over the idea of not walking you up that had flitted through his thoughts for a moment. He won’t risk something like that again.

“Your father is still worried,” he says. You nod slowly. “I can talk to him, if you’d like,”

You wave your hand. “No use. It won’t get through to him. Besides, it’s not so bad being saddled with you all the time,” 

You knock your shoulder into his, and he feels like his heart stops. “You’re not saddled with me. You can leave any time you want,”

You grin. “Who would laugh at your stupid jokes? Or eat all your food?”

“I don’t need someone to eat all my food,” he teases, and you laugh. “Especially wouldn’t mind having the blanket to myself at night,”

You elbow him softly in the ribs, laughing at him. “Oh, be realistic. You, my darling, are the blanket hog, don’t lie,”

He’s beaming at you. He can’t fight the brightness of the smile, or the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. What he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss you right now, openly and freely without the guilt of his job hanging over his head like a sword. Shame taints the moment in an instant, and he makes an effort to contain his joy. You don’t seem to notice the shift, and if you do, you don’t mention it.

The restaurant isn’t the most elegant joint in town, but you behave like it is. You sit with pristine posture, pretend to know the difference between certain forks and complain that there’s only one–really, how is a woman supposed to eat a meal in these conditions?--and you tease him for having his elbows on the table.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was a date,” you say, picking around at the ravioli on your plate.

He grins. “Forgot to mention that I don’t have my wallet on me. Mind paying?”

“You’re a lousy date, then,” you say, grinning. “Like you’d ever let me pay,”

“It’s not like this is a five star meal, sweet girl,” he says. “Believe me, if it were? You’d definitely be paying,”

“Not going to treat the lady?” you tease. “Not very gentlemanly of you,”

He shrugs. “I believe that men and women are equal,”

You roll your eyes playfully. He likes seeing you like this, cast in the light from the fake candle in the center of the table, smiling faintly to yourself, and oh so beautiful. You reach over to steal a bite of his pasta, and he doesn’t stop you. He finds himself wanting to share with you, allow you to partake in whatever he’s having because he wants to keep you happy no matter the cost.

“Ashley’s coming home this weekend,” you say between bites. “She asked what we were up to,”

We. You and him, a collective, a pair. It sends a shiver through him. “I don’t think we’re doing anything important,”

You smile. “I think she misses you,”

He shrugs, hates the feeling of being wanted. “I’m sure she misses you more,”

He thinks for a moment about whether or not you would miss him if he left. Would you wonder about him? Would you feel longing? He knows he would. Hell, even just leaving the apartment brings a feeling of loneliness. He craves your presence, feels like he needs it to exist. You keep him grounded.

…

The fact that you walk away from him so easily–you barely put up a fight–makes him nervous. He regrets it the second it happens, his chest filling up with a guilty ache as he watches you storm away from the car. The ride was awkward, but he knew that saying anything would just make matters worse. He’s so sure that you hate him, and he’s not surprised that you do.

He calls you most days. It’s pathetic, really, how often he leaves messages on your machine. Most of the time they don’t even say anything other than a miserable apology and a few sighs of discomfort. He allows himself to wonder what you’re doing. Have you finished moving in? Have you met someone? You’d never mentioned a significant other while you were living with him, so he had this miniscule hope that things were going his way. The only problem is the massive barrier between you–his job to protect you. He was paid to ensure your safety, regardless of his want to. No matter how hard he tried, his efforts would always seem forced, incentivized by a paycheck. That’s no way to know someone, hidden behind bank statements. He wants to know you openly, freely.

He spends most of his days doing reports. There’s much less excitement now that you’re not waiting for him to come home each day. He moves through the motions without much care, barely reading the files he’s shoving into the cabinet. He thumbs through them with abandon, staring blankly at the half blacked out statements. Most times, he thinks of you. He feels guilt over the way he cut things off, but in what universe is there a more amicable way of doing it? There are approximately two other ways the situation could’ve gone.

He could’ve kept the job. He could’ve kept going every day, pretending like he doesn’t look at you like you hung the moon and the stars. He could’ve feigned disinterest until you inevitably found someone worthy of your time, and then wrestled with the heartache until it dulled. He could’ve stuck by his word and done his job.

He could’ve had both–you and the job, wrapped up together in the palm of his hand. But where would that get him? How long until you suspect that he’s acting this way for a paycheck? There was no way for that to work out. There was no realistic way for him to have both, regardless of how much he wanted that. He imagines that it would be pretty good to get paid to spend time with the person he desires most, a win-win situation.

The best decision was the one he’d already made. He hates it more than anything. He wants to see you. He wants to know you’re okay. He wants you to answer his calls.

You’re gone so long that his birthday passes. He wonders, selfishly, if you thought about him. Maybe your hand hovered over the phone for a moment in hesitation before you ultimately decided against calling him. Maybe you’d gotten him a gift you never intended to send his way. Even if he were just a passing thought across your mind, he’d take it. That was gift enough.

…

His breath is shaky as you stare at him. He wants so desperately to reach out to you, but he doesn’t. With a grin, he says, “Whether you want me here or not, right?”

You huff a laugh through your nose, a small smile widening on your features. God, he feels so lucky to see it. “I always want you here.

He could kiss you; he wants to kiss you, but not here, not now. Not when he just got you back. He’ll bide his time, he’ll wait until the world falls apart if he has to because keeping you in front of him is worth any cost. He’d pay millions, fight thousands, and lay his life down just to see you smile or make you laugh. He’s not letting you walk away so easily ever again, not if he can help it. You look at him, as if you’re really seeing him, and he feels like everything might be okay.

He enjoys spending his nights lounging on your couch. He’s been mostly relegated to average office work–who knows how long that will last–and it’s a refuge to sit against your cushions and feel you dig your feet into his side.

“For someone who always wears socks, you have cold feet,” he hisses, reaching down to move your ankle. You laugh.

“Not my fault you’re a human heater,” you say. You’re wrapped in a blanket he brought from his sad apartment; thank God that place is long behind him now. His arm is draped across the back of the couch, and your hand reaches up to hold onto his thumb.

“If you shove your feet into my side one more time, you have to call for the pizza,” he says, flicking the ball of your ankle. You bark another laugh, squeezing his thumb. He likes this, loves this even. The domesticity cleanses him better than any altar or priest ever could. He is bathed in a permanent ray of sunshine, one that warms up his skin and pushes away the shadows. You are akin to divinity. He confuses your touch with idolatry.

With a sweet sigh between hushed lips, you shuffle closer to curl into his side. He decides, right then, that this is where you’re meant to be always. Whatever the price, he will pay it gladly and fully without hesitation. There’s a traffic jam outside the window but he can’t hear it because you giggle when he pokes your side. There’s blush on the tips of your ears as you laugh.

He presses a kiss to your hair, and you sigh contently. Throughout the trials he’s endured, he’s never felt like much was worth that much pain. But, sitting here with you makes him think that there is brightness in the world. There is something to want, to love. He’s never wanted to please someone so desperately.

“I think we should stay like this forever,” you whisper, craning your neck to look at him. He’s grinning down at you in admiration, memorizing the lines and freckles on your face. “You and I,”

He kisses you, not for the first time, but hell it feels like it. You smile into it, fingers twisting into his shirt where your hand rests on his chest. His arm curls around the back of your neck, pulling you endlessly closer. If he is damned for eternity, at least that comes after this, he thinks. Your soft edges accept his jagged ones with ease, pulling him in and keeping him at close range. You pull away, resting your forehead against his.

“You wanna be stuck with me forever, sweet girl?” he asks, voice low and gruff. You smile.

“I’m not stuck with you,” you say. “Besides, wouldn’t you wanna spend eternity with someone you love?”

He rockets back. Your smile fades quickly as you realize what you’ve said. You go to shift away from him, and he panics. You can’t leave his atmosphere, not again, he won’t let you. He takes your face between his hands as gently as he can manage. He looks you in the eyes, searching for any regret, any fear. He can’t find it.

“Yes,” he says, voice shaking. “I want that more than anything,”

This must be what Dante wrote about. You must be Francesca.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil #leon kennedy #x reader #fanfic #m writes #my fics

[myosotisa]

Make Up the Rest - e.m.

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader -- 18+ minors dni

‖ summary: You've never been one for a one night stand, but the man across the bar with the crooked grin makes it seem so appealing. What's the harm in trying?

‖ tags: AFAB!reader, strangers to lovers, smut. implied alcohol consumption (no mention of being tipsy or intoxicated), protected p in v (we encourage wrapping irl), dirty talk, pet names (angel, sweetheart, baby), praise (good girl), a little bit of primal play if you squint?, fluffy as hell, no y/n

‖ word count: 6.2k (it was supposed to be 2k but it got away from me so fast)

‖ this one goes out to the babes @breddiemunson @blueywrites @abibliophobiaa @fracturedarkness

cross posted on ao3

From the very first moment he approached you at the bar, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done this kind of thing before.

Admittedly, you’d been caught looking first. He was hard to miss, even in the dark and the crowds. The energy around him absolutely vibrated, from the way his head tipped back in a laugh to the familiar interactions he had with the bar staff.

A regular. Well liked. Energetic. Funny, sarcastic. Unapologetically himself. And just oh, so pretty.

After already being able to steal a few moments to admire him from afar, your luck was bound to run out eventually. And the first time the two of you made eye contact, it hit you like ice down your collar. Oh god, you thought, he probably thinks I’m a creep now, observing him from across the fucking room. But he was magnetic, a force of gravity of his own, and you couldn’t stop yourself from searching him out again.

When you made eye contact the second time, and this time you didn’t immediately shy away, you watched the edge of his mouth tilt up in a smirk, the deep laugh lines in his cheeks only drawing more attention to the movement. His eyes flicked down, then met yours again before he returned to the conversation happening next to him. You forced yourself to focus back on your own friends at the same time.

The third time, he was looking at you first. You were sure he probably could’ve seen your face get hot from across the room – probably had noticed from how quickly his sly smile returned. His head tipped slightly to the side, his glass raised a bit higher. An acknowledgment. One you didn’t know the protocol to return. Your cheeks absolutely burned as you averted your eyes, racking your brain for some way to respond that wasn’t weird or would give the wrong idea. You didn’t even know what idea you were trying to give. Settled for a two fingered wave above your own glass, one that you weren’t sure he’d even be able to see. He did, that smile of his splitting to reveal just a sliver of his teeth told you so.

You definitely hadn’t done this kind of thing before. You weren’t a virgin, had dated, but never done the hooking up at a bar thing. You were absolutely out of your depth and it was all you could do to remain on your stool when he tapped on your shoulder.

A genuine greeting and introduction, a toothy grin as he told you his name. You managed not to stutter as you repaid the favor. He asked to join you, made a joke about spotting you from across the bar, like you didn’t already know how the two of you had seen each other. He settled onto the stool next to you, his knees spread wide, his elbows resting on the bar behind him. There was a certain ease to his movements, a certain level of comfort and confidence that was wholly unfamiliar to you.

All of this was so unfamiliar to you.

Bracing for awkward small talk, asking where you work, the other mind numbing bullshit, you were pleasantly surprised when he asked you if you wanted to know a secret. The twinkle of mischief in his big, brown eyes – the way he leaned in just a bit to speak it lowly to you in the crowd. It had you leaning in too, drawn into him. Eager to hear what he had to say, to see what he might do next.

He pointed out a man sitting by himself closer to the door. Noted how he kept nervously glancing between his phone and the entrance. Insisted he was meeting someone here for a blind date and he was terrified of being stood up. He’d borrowed a friend's blazer for it, the fabric way too loose around his shoulders.

Then he shifted your attention to an older couple in the corner – two widows, he explained. They had spent years alone before coming to an agreement that they would try something new, accepting it would never be the same. They’d been feeling it out for a few weeks so far but still hadn’t been in each other's beds. You watched the pair dip their heads together, the woman’s mouth moved and the man started to laugh. The small, sad smile on her face as she watched him throw his head back almost broke your heart right in half.

Your companion nudged his elbow against your bicep, drawing your attention to a booth in the back next. There was a crowd of rowdy women, each looking more drunk than the last. A bachelorette party based on the gaudy white sashes looped over their club wear. The bride was the blue-eyed blonde in the middle, her left hand raised to force her friends to ooh and ahh over her way-too-expensive ring for the 100th time that day. But then he pointed out the red head towards the edge of the booth, the empty shot glasses in front of her almost doubling her companions as she swayed in her spot. She looked absolutely miserable, barely holding it together. In love with the blonde’s fiancé, he supplied, a pitying look as he slightly shook his head, the low bun of curls at the base of his skull shifting with the movement.

You asked him how he knew all this, asked if he had spoken to every single person in this bar.

“Everyone has a story, angel,” his head rolled toward you, a lazy smile on his face. “Sometimes you just have to follow the clues and make up the rest.”

You rolled your eyes as he huffed a laugh, ecstatic at how readily you’d believed his game. How enthralled you had been as he weaved his tales. Allowing you to secretly revel in how pleased he looked at having tricked you. Your gaze tracked back to the bridal party; a brunette in blue nearly shrieking as a Shania Twain song began to play. You settled on the red head, the haphazard placement of her heeled shoes beneath the table. Attention caught on a tattoo on her calf, squinting just a bit to see it better, then shifting to the woven bracelet around her wrist.

“You’re wrong, by the way.” You noticed he was watching you intently as you leaned back – as you brought your glass to your lips in an attempt to look cool. His eyebrows raised in intrigue, a hand waved for you to continue. Taking a moment to swallow the nerves, you leaned in toward him again, as if on instinct. Secrets shared in the dark. “She’s not in love with her fiancé. She’s in love with the bride.”

The smile that lit up his face threatened to blow you away.

 

The experience of your first ‘bar hookup’ had escalated quickly – or maybe it hadn’t and you just didn’t know the pace. He’d asked if you wanted to go for a walk, cool off outside, and you’d accepted without a second thought.

He’d been nothing but a gentleman; holding the door open for you, carefully adjusting so he was walking in between you and the street, casually slinging an arm over your shoulders, asking if it was okay if he kept it there. He made all of it seem so easy, so natural. So familiar. Like you’d both done this together 100 times before.

You laughed so hard at something he said that you stumbled. He held on tighter, redirected you to lean back against a lamppost for support. The denim across your back protected you from the chill of the metal pole, didn’t protect you from the chill of the metal rings on his fingers as he inched just a bit closer, knuckles brushing your jaw. This was the part where you floundered, you fumbled, you froze. A deer in headlights looking up at him like the sickness and the cure.

“Is this okay?” He asked, his palm cupping the side of your neck, the rough pad of his thumb next to your ear. Your breath caught in your throat, kept you from answering vocally, but you nodded as well as you could. His eyebrows drew together just a bit, concern evident on his face. He doesn’t believe you. How could he? You’re shaking like a leaf.

He moved to draw his hand away but you placed yours over it, pressing it firmer to your skin. “I’m… I’m just a little nervous,” you admitted as your eyes flicked back and forth between his. “I don’t normally do this kind of thing.”

His expression softened immediately, his smile kind. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

But no, you knew. You’d known since you saw him across the bar. “I know what I want.”

His chin dipped down as you tipped up, gravitating closer to each other on instinct. “And what is that, angel?”

Before you knew it, your fingers were weaving in the base of his wiry hair. Eddie’s knee was pressed between your thighs, his palms were drawing you even closer by the waist, and his lower lip was between your teeth.

Then you were leading him by the hand down the stairs to the F Train station headed east toward Queens. He had you pressed up against another pillar until the subway arrived, his lips, tongue, and teeth trying to draw more noises out of you – separating quickly with giggles when someone walked by like you were teenagers trying not to get caught making out on school grounds.

Then you were side by side on one of the bench seats, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. His long fingered hand tapping out a beat where it rested on your thigh as you listened to him hum a song you didn’t recognize.

Then you were rocketing off the train and onto the platform, gasping out with laughter as he caught you by the waist and spun you around. Ignored the heavy looks from bystanders that were probably worried you were genuinely getting kidnapped.

He played along, his voice a rasp against the side of your neck, telling you, “you’ll have to try harder than that to get away from me now, sweetheart.” You tried to ignore that nagging voice in the back of your head that told you how you probably should be nervous or concerned about the joke he was making. That it should be kind of inappropriate or tone deaf. Tried to ignore how it sent a thrill down your spine that settled in a buzzing warmth at your hips instead.

When you finally breached the doorway to your matchbox apartment in Queens, struggling to keep your hands off each other the entire way, it was like a portal to another dimension. He walked right in like he owned the place, taking up space and giving the air of your stale home that same vibration from the bar. It seemed to follow him wherever he went, that feeling – too intense to be contained in a place as small as this. Like one laugh from him would blow out the windows and peal off the roof. One wrong move and it would shatter the furniture and crumble the structure of the place you called home. Powerful, dangerous, terrifying, and just oh, so thrilling.

It took a moment too long for him to notice you didn’t follow him. You’d slipped off your shoes and leaned back against the door to study him as his eyes went everywhere, consuming all until they landed back on you. Taking in clues, you guessed, so he could make up the rest. About who you are, why you’re here, what you’re doing. Part of you wondered what conclusions he came to, what story he would have concocted about you.

The wonder prompted left you as he slowly approached, his hands in his pockets. Calm, cool, collected, at ease. The anticipation built with each step, like a breeze to a flame, like hints at a secret. By the time you could feel the warmth of his skin on yours, your insides were positively quivering in excitement.

One strong hand pressed to the door above your right shoulder, the other cupping your jaw in touch that was gentle. More gentle than it had any right to be. More gentle than you’d probably ever been held.

For the second time tonight, you saw hesitation. A little wrinkle between his eyebrows, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth between your own. “You’ll tell me if I do something that you don’t like? If you want to stop?” His request was so earnest, filled with more concern and care than these encounters were supposed to have. At least, that’s what you had thought before tonight. Surely this wasn’t the norm for something like this, with someone you just met. Surely it wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

You found yourself nodding, eyes wide and unable to break away from him as you once again pressed his hand tighter to your jaw. His answering exhale was warm across your skin, your eyelids fluttering closed on instinct. His voice was a rough whisper when he continued. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

When you opened your eyes again, you were resolute. More determined than before. “I will, Eddie. I’ll tell you if I don’t like it, if I want to stop.”

The concern dropped in a blink, a wolfish grin taking its place. “Fucking stellar.” And as you stifled your laugh, he tipped forward to steal your breath away.

He didn’t kiss you like you expected. Instead, he fastened his lips to the soft skin beneath your ear and grazed the flesh with his teeth. You gasped in surprise, clutched desperately to the back of his leather jacket, tilted your head to allow him greater access. If your knees hadn’t been weak before, they definitely were now. Nearly knocking together as your muscles struggled to endure the onslaught of him.

Almost like he could sense it, he shuffled closer, pressing the full length of his lanky form against you in support as his lips wandered their way down your neck. The palm against your cheek trailed back, a burning path below your ear and around, cupping the base of your skull to press you even tighter to the curious exploration of his mouth. When the press of his teeth against a certain spot produced a soft noise from the back of your throat, his fingers twitched. His lips stretched into a satisfied smile as his free hand moved quickly to press into the soft skin of your waist.

It was a struggle, but you pulled yourself out of your daze and put your own hands into action. Clammy palms met his chest and pressed up, dragging a bit of the black and red tie dye shirt with them as you started to push his leather jacket from his shoulders. His arms reluctantly disentangled themselves from you to allow it, immediately seeking purchase again as soon as he was free. Your denim jacket hit the floor next, then his shoes were kicked off. His fingertips drifted under your shirt and you felt the tingling they produced from your scalp to your toes. Not giving yourself a chance to second guess it, you gripped the hem and pulled it over your head, tossing it away before catching sight of his eyes. They were absolutely glowing in pride.

As his mouth fell to explore new territory, you placed your hands on his narrow hips, leading him away from the door and into the main room. He never looked up once, his gangly legs following your silent direction as he sucked bruises into the skin of your breasts like it would kill him to stop. When his calves met a cushion, he allowed you to press his shoulders down and sat with trust in his eyes, never once hesitating. You straddled his thighs, your hands gripping hair as he took hold of your ass, drawing together from end to end.

The pleasant surprise of the hard length of him pressed into the heat between your legs had you gasping again, your fists tugging at his hair as he choked on a groan.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You rushed to ask, untangling your hands from his curls to rest on the safety of his shoulders. His eyes were dark, pupils blown out as he took you in. Chest heaving, cheeks hot, red splotches that would surely turn to bruises on your chest. Perched on his lap like a wet dream and worried a little hair pulling was going to scare him off. He would have laughed if he didn’t think that would give the wrong impression.

“No, angel. I liked it,” came his purred reply, the rumble of his chest against yours sending your toes curling. Unable to remain composed if he said anything else, especially not if he said it like that, you rushed in to keep his mouth occupied. Nipped at his lip, snuck your tongue into his mouth, tasted the Jack and Coke he had to have been drinking at the bar. Used your position above him to press harder, take more – pretend you were in control of what was happening right now. And he was happy to let you for all of a few minutes, encouraged by your eager lips and rolling hips that you still wanted this, wanted him.

Your lead was short lived, however, as he managed to make a bit of space between you to remove his own shirt, and you floundered again. The dark ink across his chest and down his arms came to your attention for the first time. He leaned up, mouthing at your jaw while your eyes and fingers explored the art adorning him – a swarm of bats on his forearm, a spider below his collarbone, a dragon wrapped around his bicep like a trailing vine. Black ink and grey shading with bits of red scattered through. Some old, some new, all Eddie.

You must’ve been mesmerized too long because he was chuckling against your skin, the tip of his nose trailing across your cheek. “See something you like?”

And you knew this was the part where you were supposedly to flirtily agree, say something sexy, build on the moment. But you couldn’t find the words, couldn’t force yourself to say anything other than what you thought of first: “They’re beautiful.”

He slowly retreated and you panicked, thinking you’d said the wrong thing, that you’d messed it up. His face said anything but. He was surprised, that much was clear, but with a certain fire in his eyes that threatened to burn you alive as he dove in to kiss you again.

Fumbling fingers reached and grasped at clasps of belts, undoing buttons, pushing and pulling away barriers until he had a hand tucked in your embarrassingly wet panties so he could part your labia with his fingers. “Jesus H. Christ, angel,” he pressed out in a groan as he drew his lower lip between his teeth, “you always get this wet from just a bit of kissing?”

“N-no,” you stuttered in reply as he collected some of said wetness and used it to blaze a trail to your throbbing clit. The contact had you shivering, your core clenching down on nothing as a moan poured out of your mouth against your will.

“So sensitive,” he cooed in a way that was almost condescending. It had your nails digging into his shoulders, your eyes squeezing closed as you shuddered. His nose knocked against yours as he pressed forward, lips barely brushing. “I’m going to take care of you the way you deserve, angel. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

“I… I need-” You cut off with a cry as he bit down on your shoulder, your hips grinding down into his hand as the receptors for pain and pleasure mixed and tangled. He pressed an apologetic kiss to the mark, encouraging you to continue. “I need your fingers,” you sighed out in a hot and trembling breath, “I need them inside me, please.”

“Good girl,” he praised with a grin, another shuddering moan falling loose from you as he pressed his middle finger in and up and up. Cold metal made contact with the heat of your cunt in a shock to your system. All air left your lungs as his finger curled, searching and seeking until he found the spot that made your voice pitch up and your thighs tremble.

Your hand fisted in his hair as he pulled out and then pressed into it again and again in a steady wave, a soft moan caught in his throat as you took your fist and yanked. His noises, his expert fingers, the warmth of his body against you – he had the pressure building faster than you anticipated. “You want another finger, baby? Think you can take it?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you said it too fast, too desperately, but he reacted just as quickly, adding his ring finger in with his middle and pressing his thumb to your clit in a movement that had you crying out. “Fuck… Eddie, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He asked, cheeks flushing as you nodded again to confirm. The whimpered praise and the way you clenched around his fingers had him pressing his hips up for more pressure, his thumb rubbing faster circles onto your swollen clit. It was all you could do to hold yourself upright as the hot pressure in your abdomen built and built. Your hips ground down for more, pressing his hand tighter, chasing the feeling he was all too happy to provide. His free hand wove into the hair at the base of your scalp and used the leverage to tip you back. When his lips wrapped around your nipple and sucked, the sensations overwhelmed you in an instant.

You choked on your cries and held onto him for dear life as your legs trembled and your toes curled, pleasure flowing from your core in wave after wave of warm relief. His thumb left your clit but his fingers continued to stroke you through it, fighting against the clench of your muscles that tried to keep him still. Kept going until you gripped his forearm in a slump, muttering about it being too much. And as you struggled to catch your breath, he pulled his hand from you and brought his fingers to his lips, meeting your eyes as he drew them in and sucked them clean.

“Mmmmm,” he moaned, exaggerating the length of it to further your embarrassment. “You taste almost as sweet as you act, angel.”

Despite the aftershocks of your orgasm still washing over you, you still found it in you to laugh, your smile fueling his. “That was such a lame line.”

Eddie faked astonishment that melted into offense. “That hurts! I give you a genuine compliment and you call it lame.” His smile betrayed him, the mischief back in his eyes as he gripped your hips and pressed you down into his lap again with a roll of his own.

You’d never laughed during sex before, never joked around like this. It felt easy, comfortable. Didn’t take away from the heat of the moment like you thought it might. In fact, it only seemed to add to the intimacy of it. Made you crave more – more jokes, more comfort, more pleasure.

“I think I know of a way I can make it up to you,” you said, trying to put on your best impression of a seductive purr as you trailed your hand down his chest and toward the waistband of his boxers. The tips of your fingers just barely had a chance to brush the happy trail of deep brown curls that made their way into his boxers before he gently took your hand with his own. The perceived rejection had you arching back before he wove his fingers between yours and used it to pull you back in.

“As much as I would love that,” he emphasized, his mouth turning up in a sheepish smile, “I’m about 2 minutes from blowing my load here and I really, really want to fuck you.” The shock of him speaking it so plainly, so easily, had your cheeks burning and your eyes darting elsewhere. “I just made you cum on my fingers and now you’re gonna get shy?” A laugh of happy disbelief left him as he used his dry hand to tip your chin back toward his eye contact. “You’re cute.”

“Cute?” You parroted back, a bit crestfallen. You wanted him to be calling you sexy, hot, or something more grown up than ‘cute’. Isn’t that how these things go? It felt like a failure to be called cute.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, oblivious to your internal doubt. “So cute I want to eat you out until you’re begging me to stop.” Your concern was knocked out of you like a punch to the gut as your breath caught in your throat, your eyes wide as saucers. “But, unfortunately, no time for it,” he continued, looking utterly pleased with himself over your reaction. “So can I fuck you into your mattress, angel?”

Brain reeling, scrambling, trying to recover, you froze. It took a few moments of him rubbing firm circles into your palms with his thumbs for you to regain the ability to nod to agree. His eyebrows raised, the request for vocal acknowledgement ping ponging around in your brain as you tried to remember how to speak. He seemed perfectly content to wait, a patient smile on his face despite the straining of the tent in his boxers. “Yes,” you managed to choke out, his grin going sharp again, “please fuck me, Eddie.”

“And so polite about it too, so sweet.” That mockingly warm voice was back, knocking the ground out from under you as he nudged you to stand. Scrambling to your feet, you stood between his knees as he also rose, hot skin meeting hot skin again as if those few moments without were just too much.

He dipped to kiss you and you dodged it with a shift to the side. He looked confused until he caught sight of your small smile, the mischief. He grabbed for you but you moved faster, ducking away from his reach and toward the tiny kitchen. He was right on your heels as you cried out a laugh, somehow getting back around him so the couch was between the two of you, your bed behind you.

Your chest heaved, adrenaline pumping, and you were ready to run circles around the couch if you had to, but Eddie had another plan. In a move that had you frozen in surprise, he vaulted your couch and used the momentum to press you back onto your bed, his arms caging you in on either side.

“Gotcha,” his eyes were wild, his presence dominating and intense. He looked down at you and you felt small and scared and helpless and so fucking turned on you could hardly think.

“Got me,” you confirmed, voice soft. “What are you going to do with me?”

His eyes scanned you up and down. It felt like a test. Were you actually scared or was this a part of the game? You gave the smallest dip of your head, an acknowledgement. I want this.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, “I’m going to get a condom.”

You scrambled to obey, scooting back across the duvet with your palms as he went searching for his jeans in the pile of clothes. You barely had a chance to feel self conscious about how you looked or what you should be doing before he was bounding back to the bed and jumping in, sending you bouncing as you laughed and pulled him closer.

He pressed in to kiss you as he tucked his fingers into your panties, shifting them down your legs as best he could without disconnecting your mouths. You reached toward his boxers, blindly pulling them down as well until you were both ungracefully kicking your underwear off your ankles. Pulling away, you glanced down at his cock and god fucking damn it, he just had to go and be pretty there too this motherfu-.

You gripped him at the base, a surprised shiver running down his spine as you slowly slid your hand up, your thumb wiping across the pre-cum leaking from the head. A choked moan broke out of him as he gripped your wrist tightly. “Angel, what part of ‘about to blow my load’ are you not getting?” A breathless laugh interrupted him as he extracted your grip. “I really don’t want this to be over before I get to feel your sweet pussy again. You gonna let me fuck you until you cum?”

Mindless, ready, wanting, you said, “Yeah, yes, I want it-”

Your begging had him fumbling the condom in his haste to put it on, leaving you a moment to drag your nails lightly down his inked covered chest in a move that seemed to only make it harder for him to accomplish his goal. Then he was grasping your hips, manhandling you onto your back and slotting himself between your legs. The mushroom tip of him dipped to collect some of the slick that continued to leak from you and dragged it up to bump against your clit. The width and warmth of his cock pressing into you had your back arching off the sheets, your core spasming around nothing. “Eddie, please!”

Needing no further encouragement, he breached the ring of muscle at the entrance of you, both of you gasping at the feeling. It was a stretch for sure, but not an uncomfortable one, not after your orgasm. He took it slow, pressing in inch by overwhelming inch until he bottomed out, the curls at the base of his cock pressed to your clit.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn tight,” Eddie wheezed out, his eyes squeezing shut as stayed buried in you, unmoving. He gave you a moment to adjust to the pressure, both of you breathing heavy as he massaged the tense muscles in your thighs. Testing, you clenched around him, endlessly pleased with the way he hissed and fell forward onto his forearms, face tucking into your neck. “You’re trying to fucking kill me, I swear.”

“Eddie,” you whimpered, rolling your hips up into him, “please move.”

A strangled moan left him as he pulled out a few inches and pressed back in hard, punching the air out of your lungs. Encouraged by your noises, by how your body reacted, he set into a steady pace, going for depth and pressure over speed. Moans and mumbles of praise spilled from between your lips as he panted into your neck, the feeling of being filled to the brim overwhelming all rational thought. He collected himself enough to push his upper body upright again, drawing his knees forward for support as he gripped your hips and pulled you into his lap. The position allowed for more leverage as he pounded into you, your body rocking with every thrust.

“You feel so fucking good, you’re gripping my cock so tight,” Eddie’s voice was wavering, sweat collecting at the hollow of his collarbones as he drove into you over and over. Your moaning got louder as he spoke, so he took that as his cue to continue. “You like it when I talk dirty to you, angel? Like when I tell you how sweet your little pussy is, how good you’re making me feel?”

“Yes!” The answer burst from you at the height of one of his thrusts, your head thrown back. “I really like it, Eddie.”

“So fucking pretty, so sweet, so good for me,” the words tumbled out of him, his pace turning frantic. One of his hands released its death grip on your hip to trail across you, long fingers splayed out toward your stomach as his thumb made contact with your clit again. You cried out in reaction, your body arching and you couldn’t tell if it was trying to get away from the intense pleasure or get more of it. All you knew was your second orgasm was approaching quickly and it had you gasping for air.

“Want to feel you cum on my cock, fuck. Can you do that for me?” Completely unable to say anything other than curses and his name, you nodded urgently, your hands reaching down to dig your nails into his forearms. “Yes, fuck yeah baby, I can feel you squeezing me. Oh shit,” he moaned, long and loud, his head thrown back. “Cum on me, angel. Please give it to me, let go.”

And you did. It swept you under like a tidal wave, your arms and legs going numb as all of the sensation in your body crowded into your hips and then exploded like a star through the rest of you. White-hot feeling raced through your veins as you cried out his name, your cunt clenching down on his cock so tight he almost couldn’t move. You heard him curse, stutter a praise, cry out your name as his fingertips pressed bruises into your hips. He came, hot cum spilling into the condom, his hips rolling into yours as you rode out both of your orgasms until your legs fell boneless to the sheets and he collapsed forward onto you.

Ignoring the stick of sweaty skin against sweaty skin, you draped your arms over his back and held him as he tried to catch his breath. You felt warm, weightless, stated, and tired. The weight of his body pressing you down into your mattress threatened to put you right to sleep, but he was pulling away too soon. Sliding out of you as you both grimaced, leaning back onto his heels as you made eye contact again.

A bright smile came to you, feeling better than you had in weeks. “Hi,” you said, still a bit breathless.

He gave a throaty laugh, a smile lighting up his face too. “Hi to you.” He ran a hand back through his hair and you shamelessly watched the lean muscle of his arm and the stretch of his torso as he did so. “Got a place I can throw this?” He asked, gesturing to the condom as he began to ease it off.

“There’s a trash can in the bathroom, if you wanna clean up?”

An answer and he was stumbling off the bed with all of the grace of a baby cow, a bashful smile thrown your way when you started to laugh before he closed himself into the bathroom of your tiny apartment. You sunk down into your sheets, closing your eyes and basking in the afterglow. Listened to the sound of the sink running and then squeaking as he turned it off, the door swinging open again. Waited for the dip of your bed to indicate his return.

When it never came, you propped yourself up on your elbows to see where he was. Eddie already had his boxers on and was easing his tight black jeans up his legs, doing a little hop to get the material over his heels. His ringed fingers pulled up the zipper and pushed the button through, his head and shoulders bending forward as he started to fiddle with his belt.

His back made a long and beautiful arch in the soft lighting that came in through your window, his surprisingly broad shoulders rising and falling with even breaths beneath the wild curls of his hair. He looked so fucking pretty you couldn’t stand it.

Pulling your sheet over to mostly cover you, you sat up to face him. “Are you leaving?” You asked, trying not to sound too disappointed or confused. You had thought this was going well, that the two of you had really connected. Were you reading the signs wrong?

His head jerked toward you in surprise. His big, brown eyes went wide as he suddenly looked unsure, floundering in his haste to figure out what was happening. “I, uh… I thought that you’d…”

Small, hopeful, you offered, “You can… stay? If you want.”

Unmoving from where his hands rested on his belt, he took you in. His smile was small, hopeful. “Do you want me to stay?”

A bigger smile, a confident nod, and a little pat on the bed next to you was all it took for him to basically tear the jeans back down his legs. A blush high on his cheek bones, a grin in his voice, he yelled, “Brace for impact!” Then dove back into your bed in his boxers. You playfully cried out, trying to roll out of the way but he dragged you right back in, covering your neck with kisses and molding his body to yours.

“Eddie, Eddie! That tickles!” You tried valiantly to squirm out of his grip but to no avail, his arms were locked tight around your waist as his kisses slowed and the excitement faded to a pleasant contentment.

“I, uh… I don’t normally do this kind of thing.” He admitted in an echo of you, his voice soft against the back of your neck. “The staying over, I mean. It’s normally a ‘that was fun, see you never’ kind of deal.”

Feeling a bit uneasy, you’re grateful you were facing away from him when you asked, “would you prefer if it was that?”

“No, angel,” he sighed out, tugging you even closer to him and humming happily when you snuggled in. “This is perfect.”

-

-

-

-

thanks for reading, please reblog and leave a note if you liked it!!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson #myos ideas #myo4munson

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

Meta: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Garlude: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Meta: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Jecra: edible

Jecra said something embarrassing... let's roast this man!

When first joining the squad... it took a while for Meta Knight to understand social cues or to figure out when people were joking. An important thing to note, this was before Meta Knight officially became leader of the squadron and was just currently supervising them for now.

He was still getting used to the squadron. This convo just seemed so in character with the dynamic I had to include so this comic. I'm still learning to draw the rest of them but this is it for now.

I've already introduced Perry and Avery; now it's time to introduce three others...

Sir Gregory: He's basically a fallen knight of a noble family... His father refused the cruel management of the nobleman he served. As the result, they were shamed and they could no longer work.

Gregory joined the war in hopes of restoring his family's honor. He speaks in this formal old English (that he's trying to get rid of) but tends to slip from time to time.

He has a thing for Avery, but she hasn't noticed yet... but she'd definitely be interested if she knew. ;3

Lady Marleen: Team Medic and basically the sweetheart of the group... known for healing magic and a vital asset of the group.

She originally worked in a clinic on her planet, but it was destroyed and joined the GSA as a result.

Lowkey is also the team therapist and generally has the most calming presence in the group... Meta Knight got the cape wrap-around thing from her. (That was always the coping mechanism she taught MK to calm him, down he still uses it....)

Sir Bishop: He's basically the team mechanic and was the go-to person if they ever needed to hot-wire a ship. He was working in a junkyard digging for scrap metal to make into weapons & ships to sell...

His brother was arrested by the GSA (for stealing equipment ) and volunteered to work in the army as collateral to replace the things his brother stole & to get him out quicker.

I'm trying to learn how to draw the rest of the gang... more on them soon! Stay tuned! (I'm giving so much characterization on characters that I know are going to die...) :')

#kirby #kbasw #meta knight #jecra #garlude #kirby gsa #team halbred #sir perry #sir avery #sir gregory #sir bishop

[ilybeam]

Flowers for Ms. Kang

-

Jake Kim x f!reader

-

Jake Kim stumbles into a flower shop only to find a cute employee working that day.

-

Content Warnings - Crappy flower shop trope, mutual pinning (I think) ,mild cursing, barely proofread

-

A/n - had a lot of trouble writing this one, so I hope y’all enjoy.

—

Jake had been trying to get back into his mothers good graces for a while. After his whole illegal gambling fiasco she only seemed annoyed at him everytime they spoke. It was very apparent she loved him, but it was also apparent that she was disappointed in him. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Jake.

Maybe flowers might soften his mothers opinion of him.There was this quaint flower shop nearby big deal street that would be absolutely perfect for the job.

-

It was late afternoon when Jake finally got to the shop, the setting sun gave the inside of the shop a beautiful glow.

There isn’t much that can make Jake’s heart rate rise other than a good fight. That’s atleast what jake had thought until he walked through the door. His breath hitched, behind the counter stood a girl around his age who he had never seen before, and she was everything Jake wanted and more. Absolutely gorgeous.

In most instances when Jake met a girl he considered to be attractive he’d become an unapologetic flirt. Winks that made her face flush. Passing touches that made their heart rate quicken. Empty comments that they took as jokes.

But when Jake saw you he felt like a schoolboy with their first crush. Unable to do more then steal a glance or two.

—

You had been scheduled for a closing shift after you finished school today, which you begrudgingly took. I mean you needed the money of course, but you barely got more than 4 customers a day. The shop was unbelievably slow and boring.

So boring in fact that you took up a hobby of daydreaming. Something to pass the time atleast.

-

The last customer you had for the day had stood in front of your flower display for nearly half an hour at this point. He was attractive no doubt, anyone with eyes could notice that fact. But his attire and tattoos also reminded you of a thug, not the type of guy you’d usually go for.

When you finally decided to pay attention to the shop you noticed that the man looking at the display kept looking at you. Maybe he needed your help picking out flowers for his girlfriend?

You moved away from your spot behind the counter, towards him. “Excuse me sir, do you need any help finding anything?”

He scoffed at your question, maybe he didn’t need your help. “Sir? Gah you make me sound old.” He completely faced you after saying this, a playful pout forming on his lips.

“Only out of respect, sir.” You started to retreat back to your spot behind the counter. “Well if you need any help, just let me know. You are taking quite a bit.” The last part slipped out before you could even think, sounding more judgemental than intended.

“Sorry for taking too long” he playfully responded. “But uhh, yeah I could use a little help. I know nothing about flowers.” He frowned.

You made your way back to him, examining the flower display. “Hmm do you know what your girlfriends favorite flower is? I might be able to help you find something similar?”

“No, I would’ve gotten those if I had known.” He teased. “And the flowers are for my mother, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh” you paused in between your next words. “Hmm well then, do you atleast know her favorite color?”

“Of course. I know my moms favorite color, what do you think I am, a monster?” He paused for a second, shit, did he actually know her favorite color. “It’s uhh… purple yeah”

You giggled at his subtlety. “Well then I’d personally go with the Hydrangeas, you can hardly go wrong with those.” When you looked up at him, he was staring hard.

Jakes face flushed, getting caught in the act. “Okay.. that sounds great.”

You smiled, maybe he wasn’t so ‘thuggish’. “Alright well just follow me on up to the register and I’ll get you checked out.”

He nodded along, following you.

When he went to give you the money for the flowers, after you had told him the total, your hands had touched for just a split second. You could’ve sworn you felt a spark, and when you looked up at his face you could tell he had felt it too.

He thanked you for helping him and made his way out, you called after him telling him to have a nice day.

Huh, maybe thuggish looking guys might be your type

—

Jake’s mom didn’t hate the flowers she got. He thought that maybe he had even seen her genuine smile for the first time in a while. This was enough of a confirmation that Jake had needed. So, like any normal human being, he decided that the best course of action would be to visit the quaint little flower shop every week. His mothers happiness was the sole motivation for this conclusion, totally not the cute flower shop cashier.

Over the next few weeks Jake had learnt many things about you. He learned what your name was, which he totally didn’t attempt to look up on pacebook after finding out. He found out that you worked here to help your dad out. You told him what your favorite kind of flowers were. Recommended him your favorite movies. Excitedly told him that your birthday was coming up.

Jake knew almost everything about you that a boyfriend would. He just never had the courage to ask you out.

—

“Jake” you called out, earning the attention of your companion.

It was a Friday evening, Jake was here on one of his usual visits, something you began to look forward to throughout the passing week.

“We should go out.” It came out as a statement more than a question, which was fine. It was quite apparent that the boy liked you.

His face warmed. “Huh?” he replied, dumbfounded.

“I said, we should go out” you were now leaning into him, more than before. “I mean, I like you and I was kind of guessing you liked me.” You looked down now, feigning shyness. “But I guess you not asking me out on a date should’ve been proof enough, I should’ve known you didn’t feel that way.

Jake was stunned, god you were bold, way more than him. “Of course I like you [name], I’ve liked you from the moment I walked in here.” You didn’t know his face could grow more red, but it did. “I’d love to go on a date with you, though I wish I had the courage to ask you first.” He mumbled the last part.

You looked up at his face, heads not even a foot apart. “I know Jake, I just wanted you to admit it.” You teased, making Jake avoid your gaze.

—

m.list

#lookism #jake kim x reader #jake kim #jake kim lookism #lookism x reader #lookism x you #lookism jake #this is kinda shitty ngl #not my favorite

[jocelynhealy]

I want some version of the Kombat Kids in the next game. I want them to be so unapologetically gen Z it gives everyone else in the room whiplash. Cass has nicknames for everyone and stealing snacks from Takeda. Jacqui doing the boys nails while they talk battle tactics and talk shit about the champions crew. Jin being both amused and grossed out by all the sex jokes. Give us a new and improved SF squad!

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023

[foxydivaxx]

Sanji AU 5

- Besides One Piece, his other well known role is Black Cat from the movie series Black Ops Squad. Zoro is also a part of the series as the main protagonist whilst Sanji is one of the antagonists and his character is like a male version of the Baroness who gleefully wrecked havoc on the heroes and also has sexual tension with Zoro’s character

- Sanji’s performance was unanimously praised by everyone as he shocked everyone with an amazing performance as a deranged yet sexy agent who also has a crush on the hero

- Sanji considers that his fave role as he is playing against type

- He and Zoro enjoyed the fight scenes and considering their One Piece characters and their dynamic, this does not shock anyone

- The best fight scene involving their characters happened towards the end of the movie. Both of them used hand to hand combat here and Sanji was ruthless in that scene and many jokes about him being more aroused in that scene due to the sexual tone of his voice

- Fanboys enjoyed the movie because they get to see Sanji’s famous ass on display in multiple scenes. Same applies to Zoro too

- His memoir is considered a guide for troubled kids and former child stars

- He and his brothers used to fight over the dumbest things like who gets the remote first or who eats the last pizza slice. These days they bicker over their clothes because someone always steals stuff

- There is a video that shows Sanji flirting with the girls. Zoro pouts, walks over to Sanji hugs from behind, and says, “Mine!!” Everyone starts laughing. Sanji smirked because he wanted Zoro to do that

- Sanji keeps chasing after his cat Ginger because the cat keeps stealing food

- Why do men love Sanji? Besides the ass, they love how sassy and unapologetic he is. The fact that he is good looking and flaunts his sexiness helps as well as a lot of men have admitted to having perverted sexual fantasies about him

- He loves Heartsteel and listens to their songs. That made Ezreal’s day

- Aogiri has a group chat and Sanji often replies with emojis in the chat

-Sanji is seen as a diva by many but those who have gotten to know him are shocked by how sweet he actually is

-Sukuna continued to stalk Sanji even after they broke up

-Sanji tends to be hilarious in interviews, often cracking jokes

-He has a massive wardrobe to the point where Zoro jokes about his diva demands. Ironically Zoro himself has a large wardrobe as well that rivals Sanji's

-Everyone calls Zoro and Sanji the Diva Couple because they act that way xD

-Sanji had sex addiction problems no thanks to the abuse Judge subjected him to.

-Sanji had commitment issues as he had a lot of flings back in the day and would sleep around with anyone so long as he got what he wanted. Yup, Sanji literally weaponized sex a lot of the time to force people to do certain things for him. That all changed when Zoro came into his life and made him question his actions. As if that was not enough, there was Sukuna

#sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece #zosan

[strawberry-yougurt]

I've been at this for an hour.

Scar: That was so hot, Grian. 

Grian: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenerate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets. 

Scar: I'm so in love with you.

 

Xisuma: Hey, what have you two been up to? 

Mumbo: We were helping Grian write their vows, but they kicked us out because Pearl was making inappropriate suggestions. Pearl: How is “Scar, I love your sweet ass” inappropriate? 

Grian: *fast-forwards all the way through the movie* 

Scar: You can't just skip to the happy ending! 

Grian: I don't have time for their problems. 

Grian: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life. 

Mumbo: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind? 

Grian: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die. 

Scar: Edible.

 

Grian, setting down a card: Ace of spades. 

Iskall, pulling out an Uno card: +4. 

Keralis, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you! 

Pearl, trembling: What are we playing?! 

Mumbo: *looks over Pearl’s shoulder at their laptop* What the fuck? 

Pearl: *slams screen shut* It’s just research! For something I’m writing about! I swear that’s it! 

Mumbo: Why the hell would that involve the breeding habits of frogs? 

Pearl: It’s not just “frogs”, it’s the Surinam Toad. And it’s not “breeding habits”, it’s how they raise their young. This is important information my audience needs to know! 

Mumbo: That doesn’t change the fact this is for one line in a fanfiction. 

Pearl, offendedly: You don’t know that! 

Mumbo: I hear no denial. 

Grian: Look at the buns on that guy! 

Iskall: *lying on the floor, covered in hamburger buns* 

Xisuma: This is the comedy police! The joke's too funny! 

Grian: I'm not going back to jail! 

Scar, sweating: Grian, there’s something I need to ask you- 

Grian: Finally! You’re proposing! 

Scar: How’d you know? 

Grian: Scar, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner. 

Grian: I even picked it up once. 

Grian, at the slightest provocation: I came into this earth screaming and covered in someone else's blood and I'm not afraid to leave the same way. 

Grian: kisses Mumbo Mumbo: ! Grian: …Did you steal my chapstick? Mumbo: Did- did I what? Grian: My chapstick, Mumbo. Did you steal it? Scar: Grian, for the love of God, not this again. Mumbo: I- No, I didn't steal your chapstick. We use the same chapstick. Grian: No, there is absolutely no way we use the same chapstick, because it was only sold on one Etsy shop two years ago and they discontinued it, and I loved it so much that I bought the last of their stock, and I keep it in my freezer so it doesn't go bad. It's been discontinued for three years. No one uses the same chapstick for three years. So unless you've been eating a whole fuck ton of something that's flavored like chocolate and popcorn, you absolutely stole my fucking chapstick. Mumbo: Chocolate and popcorn? Scar: Why do you think it got discontinued?

Grian: WHO ATE MY BREAD?! 

Grian: I'M GOING TO FUCKING K- 

Mumbo: I did? 

Grian: Kiss you and buy some more, you haven't been eating anything today Mumbo. 

Grian: *walks away* 

Mumbo: 

Mumbo: They're gone Pearl. 

Pearl, coming out the closet with bread stuffed in their mouth: Twankh uh! 

Impulse: WHO ATE MY BREAD?! 

Impulse: I'M GOING TO FUCKING K- 

Zedaph: I did? 

Impulse: Kiss you and buy some more, you haven't been eating anything today Zedaph. 

Impulse: *walks away* 

Zedaph: 

Zedaph: They're gone Tango. 

Tango, coming out the closet with bread stuffed in their mouth: Twankh uh! 

Grian: Mumbo, say aluminum again. It's the entire source of my serotonin during these trying times. 

Mumbo: *sigh* Only for you, buddy. Alyoouminnieeum. 

Mumbo, grinning: Before you were what? 

Grian: Before I was- 

Mumbo: What? 

Grian: Before I was inter- 

Mumbo: Before you were interrupted? 

Grian: Cut me off one more time and I swear I'll- 

Mumbo: What? 

Grian: *makes frustrated sound* 

Scar, nervously: Stop that. Before they hurt you. 

Mumbo: You believe me? 

Grian: Mumbo, you’re the last good person on this planet. I‘d believe cartoon birds braided your hair this morning.

 

Grian: Reverse tooth fairy where you leave money under your pillow and the tooth fairy comes and leaves you a bunch of teeth. 

Scar: Why? 

Grian, shaking a bag of teeth: Just because. 

Mumbo, seeing a banana on the car seat: What the FUCK?? Mumbo, buckling the banana up: Fucking buckle UP, it’s the LAW!

Mumbo: And here we see Scar and Grian in their natural habitat. Texting eachother variations of the word "garlic bread" to try to make eachother laugh. Scar: Gaelic bread. Grian: Grueling brad. Scar: Ha ha, glamorous beans.

Mumbo: How the hell did you crash the car?! Scar: So I was just driving today, right? And my navigation told me to go straight. Scar: I was like "woah, that's homophobic". Instead, I went gay. And, THAT'S when I got into an accident. Mumbo: … Grian, with a proud smile: And THAT'S who I'm in love with, ladies and gentlemen.

These have become addicting to me

#incorrect hermitcraft quotes #these are funny to me

[tesalicious2]

Look, I don’t mind making König all soft and cute when he’s not at work. I actually find it pretty funny.

But please do not forget that this man is absolutely a menace too. And he would be unapologetically all the time.

What are you gonna do? Stop him? Psh, that man is a beast that literally breaks spines over his knee. How are you gonna stop him from stealing all the coffee? Ask him nicely?

That’s what I thought.

This man definitely listens to German rock music and twirls his knives. He does pranks for sure and makes very dark jokes.

#könig #Konig #cod konig #I’m here now I guess #my new obsession #lmao #he’s a menace

[andr0medafallen]

Little Trouble

A/N: Republish...ment? of a fic I wrote for @alwritey-aphrodite 's birthday in August. Ilysm! Oh, and today is my birthday I guess, so yeah.

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x reader

Warnings: Fluff, taking songs so far out of context so that they're no longer depressing, confessed love and carnival vibes

Description: I'll tell you that I love you, I'll scream it twice. You ask over the music, "Did I hear that right?"

Word Count: .8k

“You have something on your face,” Santi remarks, sliding his thumb along the corner of your mouth. Your lips part in surprise when he sticks the finger in his mouth, gently sucking off sugar residue and whipped cream.

Luckily, you’re able to make a quick recovery, scrunching your nose as you exclaim, “Ew, Santi, you’re awful!’ You say it with a smile though, and he smiles back with a cheeky and objectively unapologetic shrug as you steal an extra bite of the funnel cake you’re sharing just to spite him.

You’d finally convinced him to go to the fair with you, abandoning his dive bars and angst for some good old fashioned child-like joy. It had taken ages of tolerating Pope’s excuses before he had finally caved, right in time for the event. The sun is shining; Summer is not doing its job of turning into Autumn, the days long and hot. You don’t mind, though, because you’re here, and Santi is here, and a myriad of nearly broken rides and fried food is here, so you truly can’t find any room in your heart to complain about the sun or any UV damage you may be earning.

“You know you love me,” Santi jests, turning towards you with a grin.

You do. But you’re not sure that he knows, and you’re even less sure he feels as unplatonic as you do, so you opt instead to lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “Three carts down they’re selling hard lemonade.”

“Then we have to stage a heist,” Santi responds, echoing your enthusiasm as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

“You’re right! I have a plan. I’ll give them rectangular green pieces of paper, and they’ll be so scared that they give us all of their wares,” you joke, reaching into your bag for your wallet.

Santi grabs your arm, stopping you. “It’s a good plan, but it’s not gonna work.”

“What?! Why ever not?” You tease in your best Bonnie Parker impression.

“I’m more experienced at heisting than you, it’s gotta be me.”

You snort, shoving Santi’s arm. “You’re awful.”

“C’mon, Trouble, we’ve got a heist to plan.” Santi hooks his arm with yours and leads you to the cart.

It's like that the whole day. You and Santi parroting off of each other's energy and laughter until the sun finally sets and you both have your fair share of liquid courage in you. You can’t bear the thought of leaving yet, though. Whenever you’re with Santi, all you can do is wish that time would stand still. You could spend eternity wrapped in his gaze, his smile, his obnoxious arrogance that has somehow become your favorite thing in the world.

When you see a band playing at the center pavilion, colorful lights shining on their instruments—banjo, and fiddle, and harmonica (the cornbread of the musical world)---It takes you about three seconds of contemplation before you grab Santi’s hand, dragging him to the center of the grassy dance floor. 

You’ve danced with Santi before, but not like this. That was all grinding in a crowded room, sweating and laughing as you gave the boys something to write home about. Tonight feels different. Like your heart is exposed, bared to him, and all he needs to do is reach out; To embrace or break it. Lights are strung above the two of you, but their shine doesn’t nearly match the sparkle in his eyes even as he tells you that the music isn’t even that good, spoken in your ear to be heard over the din of the crowd, his warm breath a gentle caress.

“I love you,” you say. You have to yell it over the noise so that Santi is able to hear you, and you do. You don’t know what has possessed you, and you face floods with heat. You nervously look into those big brown eyes, which are doing whatever sort of mental math they feel is necessary to understand the weight of what you have just told him.

It’s Santi who drags you off this time, managing to find a hidden little corner filled with honeysuckle and vines, where the music is that much quieter and the lights more dim.

“What?” He says it like he wants to be sure. Like he’s asking for a pinkie promise that you’ve never wanted to give more.

“I love you,” you breathe. “Do you want me to say it again? I love you, I love you, I love yo—”

He cuts you off, pulling you in by the waist and pressing his soft lips against yours. The kiss is filled with yearning; With the absolution of a promise made to the man who you’ve loved in every past life you might have had. When the two of you break away, Santi leans his forehead against yours as you catch your breath.

“You’re such an asshole,” He says with a smile.

You return it, leaning your head into the crux of his shoulder. “Say it back.”

“I love you.”

#oscar isaac #oscar isaac fanfic #reader insert #santiago garcia #santiago garcia fluff #triple frontier #fanfiction

[denimbex1986]

'Phoebe Waller-Bridge's Fleabag is still considered by many one of the best comedy shows of all time, even after its conclusion a few years ago. There are many reasons why the series is so genius. It's the perfect combination of strong performances, intelligent writing, and emotional moments. But the factor that allows Fleabag to rise above all other comedy series is the titular character's frequent breaking of the fourth wall. Whether during an intimate moment with another character or interrupting her conversations to speak to the audience, Fleabag's words and glances at the camera are defining characteristics of the series. Some of the show's best moments are a quick smirk at the camera from Waller-Bridge, and utilizing fourth wall-breaking elevates the show from funny to genius.

Fleabag Breaking the Fourth Wall Lets Viewers Know Her

The hilarious BBC series follows a young woman (Waller-Bridge) as she navigates life, loss, and relationships using her wit and her lack of filter. Through the recent death of her best friend (Jenny Rainsford), the previous loss of her mother, and the quick start of her father's (Bill Paterson) romantic relationship with her godmother (Olivia Colman), the character of Fleabag (though unnamed in the script) often closes herself off emotionally and turns to us, the audience, as a comfort.

Throughout the series' brief run, Fleabag often uses her anger and poor decision-making as a way to run from her grief and push people away. Yet the viewers have the privilege to get to know her in a way that none of the characters do. Even Fleabag and her sister Claire (Sian Clifford) are occasionally disconnected, especially because of Claire's rude, inappropriate husband, Martin (Brett Gelman). However, the main character's breaking of the fourth wall to give the audience humorous commentary in pretty much any situation gives insight into how she is much more complex than those around her write her off to be. After experiencing so much grief and guilt, as well as being misunderstood by many people, her safe space is escaping to the audience. Looking at the camera, Fleabag can be her most unapologetic self, no matter what kind of mistakes she has made in the past.

A Direct Connection Makes Viewers Fall in Love with a Flawed Character

One of the more intriguing parts of Fleabag is its approach to tackling feminism by portraying the main character in the most brutally honest way. Early in the series, she raises her hand at a speaker's event when asked if she would trade five years of her life for the perfect body. She lies and steals, and yet she is redeemable and even likable. When other characters want to distance themselves from her, or when she removes herself at the end of Season 1, her connection with the viewers makes both sides feel comfort.

This is so much so that Fleabag can make jokes to the audience about anything in any type of situation, which otherwise leads to judgment when she does this in real life. Even so much as a look at the camera lets us see her, but also allows her to see us. Only one look conveys so much about how she is feeling or what she wants to say, and while what she says is most likely something out-of-pocket or vulgar, viewers love her anyway.

Breaking the Fourth Wall Strengthens Fleabag's Relationship With the Priest

The second season of Fleabag introduces the Priest (Andrew Scott), who Fleabag quickly takes a liking to. Once the Priest provides her with support after a tumultuous family dinner, Fleabag begins to attend church in order to see him. As the two spend more time together, their connection, friendly and romantic, is undeniable. If the chemistry between the two was not enough to sell viewers on their bond, the show takes it a step further by expanding upon Fleabag's commentary for the audience. Once the two spend more one-on-one time together, the Priest starts to notice when Fleabag breaks the fourth wall. He is initially unsure of what she does, asking "where" she goes when it happens. She refuses to tell him that she is actually speaking to an unseen audience, but continues to do so. In one particular moment, the Priest quickly breaks the fourth wall himself.

What makes this part of their relationship so satisfying is the show's cast of characters being disgusted or confused by the things Fleabag says. This is presumably a part of what makes Fleabag escape to the viewers, as those around her rarely appreciate or acknowledge her personality. She typically has a wall up, and will only be totally herself with the viewers. Once the Priest actually breaks the fourth wall, he tells her that he wants to get to know her, to which she replies that she does not want him to. This moment builds upon other moments in their forming relationship, such as the Priest telling Fleabag that she is good for him because she challenges his faith in God.

In his brief breaking of the fourth wall, exposing her Achilles heel, he begins to challenge her too. On top of this, Fleabag is also able to see the fox that the Priest claims follows him wherever he goes. After the two do not end up together at the end of the series finale, she sees the fox. She points the fox in the direction of the Priest, and he abides. Even though the two cannot be together, viewers are able to get the sense that both parties will be alright. While the Priest ultimately finds the strength to live by his values and leave her, Fleabag also gains the courage to leave the audience behind and continue on without the crutch of the camera. While the two did have a connection without this clever use of breaking the fourth wall, its inclusion is what makes the audience realize that they are, in a way, soulmates.

Many television shows like What We Do in the Shadows and The Fresh Prince of Bel Air are well-known for breaking the fourth wall, whether it be in one scene or throughout the show. Fleabag is unique in the way that it is not a mockumentary, but the fourth wall break, like the audience, is a character in the show. This makes the series not only original, but also brilliant in the way that it sees and understands its main characters and its viewers as both flawed and redeemable.'

#Phoebe Waller-Bridge #Fleabag #Hot Priest #Andrew Scott #Olivia Colman #Bill Paterson #Jenny Rainsford #Sian Clifford #Brett Gelman

[iliektehhaxs]

we joke about joshua pavloving torgal but i think uncle byron is 100% a cat person who’s cat is just the biggest charlatan and thief to exist (the cat reminds him of very cheeky young joshua and clive) who will jump up onto the dinner table and do this

https://x.com/showyourcat/status/1751656179103674613?s=46&t=06bYiE12l6qVJUxPCBuvvQ

I imagine it’s a big old white fluffball of a cat, very into itself and thinks it’s royalty because Byron treat it like it is, will steal food unapologetically and Byron does nothing about it

#robo speaks #ask

[kakapim]

JOJOLANDS CHAPTER 1 REVIEW

Spoiler warning.

I'm looooving the new characters!! Araki set their personalities so well from the start. You can see how much he has improved over the years.

I especially love Jodio's personality. He's unapologetic cocky, snarky, and just like every 15yo, seems to going through a "I'm better than everyone" phase. He looks like he's going to get a lot of development, something in very eager to see.

I'm really glad all "the next protags are going to siblings" theory came true. And best of all, they actually ACT like siblings! Instead of the usual...way... siblings act in anime/manga.

And the fact that Araki made Dragona GNC (Trans?) without making it a "joke" and just brushed over it as a character introduction, is soooo ♥️♥️♥️

Unfortunately, I don't know what pronouns he uses in the original language, so I'll keep it as he/him.

Right now their goal seems very simple, stealing a diamond. Can't wait till this somehow spirals into killing god or something.

I don't think Gappy and Yasuho are going to show up this time around, and I badly miss them. Regardless, this looks like it'll be a lot of fun.

#jojo #JJBA #JOJOS BIZARRE ADVENTURE #jojo's bizarre adventure #The Jojolands #Jojolands #theres one thing im afraid of though. usually in media one sibling always dies. jojo is known for killing characters. #jodio will live til the end because hes the narrator just like yasuho was #so.... yeah 😱