#I am here to help not to dictate from on high | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

straykeedz · 9 months

Note

heyy bby, im dreaming with jisung weed dealer for so long i would love that if you could do it !! kisses luv 💋💋

high on you ; hjs

author’s note: thank you so much for requesting something to me! i’m sorry if anything that’s written here is inaccurate lol, i now nothing about weed and stuff like that 🙏 hope this lives up to your expectations, x 🫧

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader;

rating: m, s;

wc: 2,9k;

tw: jisung’s your weed dealer; smoking weed; fingering (f receiving); they’re in a car so i guess a little bit of exhibitionism; han calls reader a slut during sexy-time but it’s okay because she likes it; reader calls him hanji 🥺; they talk about kids in the end; suggestive ending;

check out my masterlist here ♡

🗺️: i am not a native english speaker so please let me know if you spot any mistakes/typos/anything!

mature content under the cut so minors dni! 🤨

☎︎

He’s holding the small, transparent plastic bag above his head, out of your reach as he smirks at you cockily.

“This is the third time you hit me up this month.” Jisung points out. “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me, babe.”, the pet name rolls off his tongue so naturally it makes you scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

“Am not.”, you roll your eyes at him as you make a scarce attempt at reaching the plastic bag in his hand. He chuckles as he watches you miserably failing. “Am obsessed with that’s inside that bag, tho. Give it to me.”, you growl, frowning.

That stupid smirk won’t disappear from Jisung’s face, and it’s starting to annoy you. “Addiction is not good, babe. The way you’re acting is making me wonder whether I should give this to you.” Jisung teases.

“I’m not addicted to this stuff.”, you shot back, offended by his assumption. “It just helps me relax.”

It’s true - it does help you relax. Though, it’s not the real reason why you keep coming back to him. It sounds ridiculous when you think about it - falling for your dealer. However, you fell for him - you fell hard. You don’t even like weed that much, if you think about it, you keep on buying that stuff because it’s the only thing that somehow links you to him. It’s stupid, you’re aware of that, but that’s just how much Han Jisung has you wrapped around his finger.

“Okay then.” Jisung smirks. “That’ll be fifty bucks, babe.”, he says.

You look at him with wide eyes, mouth slowly agape. “Fifty?”, you squeak. “I don’t have that much money! You sold me the same amount for twenty bucks last time!”, you argue.

“What can I do?”, he shrugs, waving the plastic bag in the air, still out of your reach - even economically now. “That’s how the market works, I don’t dictate the rules, babe.”

You whine, letting out a heavy sigh, defeated. You can’t afford spending fifty bucks on that shit - not when you’re drowning in bills and delayed payments. If what Jisung said is true, that means you’re gonna have to stop calling him - you’re gonna have to cut him off for good.

“Whatever.”, you bite your cheek, a bit annoyed. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”, you turn around in order to leave, but he grabs you by the wrist, making you turn to face him.

“I thought you wanted it.” Jisung says. “Thought you were obsessed with this.”, he mocks you, still grinning cockily, mimicking the quotation marks with his fingers. Annoying.

You glare at him. “Stop.”, you growl. “I mean, there isn’t much I can do. It’s too expensive and I can’t afford it right now.”, you let your arms fall down your sides. “I guess our paths part here, Han Jisung. I’ll see you around.”

He grabs you by the wrist once again, making you snap your head up at him as he lowers his hand - the hand that’s holding the little plastic bag, and places it in your hand. You look at him confused, brows furrowed.

“What does this mean? I told you I can’t afford it.”

“Consider this as a gift from the house, babe.” Jisung smirks, before turning around - walking away from you without uttering another word.

You look at him dumbfounded, bag in your hand, gaze switching from it to Jisung and then back to the bag, then again back to Jisung. “Wait!”, you shout, making him stop right in his tracks. He turns his body to look at you. You quickly walk towards him, waving the plastic bag in front of his face. “I’ll accept that only if you smoke one with me.”

He looks taken aback - this is new. He doesn’t usually do stuff like this - he just sells it, he never smokes it with his clients. “It’s not professional.”, his friend once said. As if being a weed dealer is even a profession, Jisung can’t help but think. Eventually, he figures out he’s got nothing to lose - it’s just weed, he’s done it a million times before.

“Okay.”

Fifteen minutes later you’re in the backseats of Jisung’s car, in an empty parking lot in the proximity of your place, car windows down so that the vehicle won’t smell like weed once you’re done. You watch him as he takes his time in rolling the blunt, licking the paper slowly, almost sensually. You wonder how come he looks so fucking attractive even when licking a stupid piece of paper - but that’s not the focus.

“Y/N?”, his voice shakes you off of your thoughts, holding the joint between his fingers and a lighter in his other hand.

“No, you do it.”, you tell him.

He chuckles. “Why, feeling shy all of a sudden?”, he teases, bringing the joint to his lips.

“No, it’s just - I wanna see you do it.”, you admit - you hope he doesn’t notice the way you’re practically drooling over him as he lights the joint, kicking his head back as he breaths out the smoke, the familiar scent filling up your nostrils.

“God, I missed this.”, he sighs, eyes closed as he fills his lungs with smoke. “It’s been a while.”, he comments, before handing you the joint, which you gladly accept and bring to your lips, doing exactly what he did.

“How come?”, you ask him, breathing out the smoke as well. “Are you cutting down?”, you ask him.

He shakes his head, taking the joint from you - fingers brushing against yours, and it makes you shiver. You can feel the familiar tingle between your legs, and you can’t believe you’re getting turned on just because of a slight touch, that sounds pathetic. Your stupid crush on your dealer is pathetic, but it’s not like you can help it.

“Kinda.”, he shrugs. “I mean, it’s not that I can keep on smoking this shit forever, you know?”, he observes.

You hum, not really knowing what to say. If Jisung were to stop smoking weed, it’d mean he’d eventually stop selling it too, which would mean that you’d have no reason to contact him anymore in the first place. It’s not like you have anything in common - you don’t share classes together, you don’t even share the same group of friends. He’s a friend of your friend, tho, and that’s how you met him. Not a close friend, however, so it’s not like you’d see him around.

“Yeah, I get it, that’s exactly how I feel about this.”, you agree with him.

Jisung passes you the joint, eyes on your lips as he observes the way your lips close around the filter, wrapping around it as you inhale another drag. “I thought you were obsessed with weed.”, he comments, not tearing his eyes off of you as he watches you kick your head back as well. “You’ve been hitting me up like crazy lately. Didn’t think you would be cutting down on weed anytime soon.”, he adds.

You chuckle - if only he knew. You’re not obsessed with weed, you’re obsessed with him.

“You’re what?” Jisung asks in a high-pitched voice, looking at you with wide eyes.

Fuck, there’s no way you actually said that out loud, is there? No, it can’t be possible, you must’ve imagined it. But the way he’s staring at you, kinda shocked, is telling you otherwise. To be honest, you’re as shocked as he is - you weren’t planning on saying that, what is wrong with you?

“I haven’t said anything.”, you try to bluff, but he doesn’t fall for it.

“Yeah, your lying game is shit.”, he comments. “Now - say that again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, you shrug, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“I’m talking about…” Jisung shifts in his place, now sitting just a couple of inches away from you as gently grabs you by the chin and forces you to look at him - both yours and his eyes are slightly red, but neither of you are too high. “You saying you’re obsessed with me.”, he repeats your words. “Is it true?”, he asks - it’s like he wants you to give in.

That you do. If you think about it - what is there for you to lose? It’s not like you two are close anyways. It’s like you’re stuck in a limbo with him - so you decide to be brave and just say what’s been in your mind for the past weeks.

“Of course it’s true.”, you let out a nervous chuckle. “I don’t even like this shit.”, you point at the joint you’re holding between your fingers. “I just buy it so that I can see you.”

“So I was right when I said you’re obsessed with me.”, he smirks cockily and you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “That explains why you been calling me so often.”, he teases.

You scoff again, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aw, don’t be like that, babe. I’m just teasing you.”, he takes the joint from your hand, bringing it to his lips once again. “Besides,” he breathes out the smoke and leans closer to whisper something in your ear “I’m obsessed with you too.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you pull away to stare at him with wide eyes. Is he for real or is he saying that just to mock you or worse - lead you on?

“You are?”, you whisper - but in the silence of his own car, he hears you loud and clear.

He nods, biting his lower lip. “Yeah, I am.”, he confirms. “Have been for a while now.”, his fingers brush delicately against your clothed thigh, but it makes your head spin nonetheless.

“Why didn’t you say anything, then?”, you frown.

He sighs, then shrugs. “Because, babe, let’s be real. I’m not exactly boyfriend material.”, he chuckles. “I dropped out of school and sell weed for a living, I’m not the kind of guy parents would approve of, you know?”

“You still haven’t asked me out and you’re already thinking about meeting my parents?”, you tease him, smirking. “I don’t care about that shit, Hanji. If we like each other, we should give it a shot.”, you point out with a shrug.

“What did you just call me?”, he asks.

“Hanji.”, you repeat, smiling. “It’s your name in my phone. It’s short for Han Jisung.”, you explain.

“I like it.”, he chuckles, leaning in closer to your face. “So… can I kiss you now?”, he bluntly asks.

You nod - and he places his lips on top of yours for a chaste kiss that turns into a make out session not too long after. You can taste weed on each other’s tongues as make out in the backseats of his car, the joint now out, forgotten in the ashtray of Jisung’s car - pretty intact. He has his fingers intertwined with yours, while his other hand is resting on your thigh as you’re practically sucking each other’s faces. You can feel the tingle between your legs become more and more intense - you have to squeeze your thighs in order to find some relief, and he notices, hand climbing up your thigh slowly.

He gently pulls away from your lips and nuzzles your nose with his. “How high are you on a scale from zero to ten?”, he asks you, looking you in the eyes.

“Not so much.”, you whisper on his lips. “Enough to know I want to take things further, not too much for you to think you’re taking advantage of me. You?”

“Same.”, he crashes his lips onto yours once again as his hand climbs up, slender fingers no brushing against your clothed core, which makes you whimper against his lips. “Help me slide these off?”, he murmurs, tugging at the waistband of your jeans.

You nod eagerly, undoing the button before wiggling to slide them under the curve of your ass, together with your panties. You should feel at least a little embarrassed to be completely exposed in front of your crush - but you’re not. Just eager and desperate to feel his touch on your skin. You watch him as he brings two fingers to his lips and then in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to lubricate them. When he pulls them out, there’s a string of saliva that connects his fingers to his mouth - that sight only is enough to make you whimper, but then he places his fingers on your cunt, right below your clit.

“A little higher.”, you instruct him, letting out a heavy breath when he finally brushes against your most delicate spot.

“Here?”, he asks, and the whimper you let out when he starts rubbing your clit has him grinning when you nod, too fucked out already to answer him. In your defense, it’s been a while since you got your clit acknowledged by a man - so your reaction is completely understandable.

Jisung crashes his lips onto yours once again as his fingers slowly move south, pads now brushing against your slit, and you’re so wet they could easily slip inside. They do. You moan against Jisung’s mouth. It only takes him minutes to bring you close to your orgasm, and you’re actually impressed - he found your g-spot faster than any of your previous partners.

“God, you’re so damn hot.”, he pulls away from your lips only to look at your fucked out expression - cheeks red and flustered as you’re desperately trying to hold back your moans. “Letting me finger you in my car, in an empty parking lot.”, he continues - his words turn you on even more. “So filthy, anyone could see you right now - getting fingered like a slut.”

You nearly yelp when he calls you that, your orgasm approaching faster. He can feel it.

“You like it when I call you a slut, don’t you?”, he purrs in your ear - the car is filled with your whimper and the squelching sound of his fingers thrusting inside of you. “My slut.”, he growls.

You kick back your head and shut your eyes closed, on the verge of reaching your high. That’s when Jisung unexpectedly places his thumb on your clit and starts to draw gentle eight figures, not even thinking about halting his movements with the fingers that are buried inside your cunt. That’s exactly what you needed, and you feel your orgasm wash all over you as you release with a loud whine, practically squeezing Jisung’s fingers with the way your pussy’s clenching, swinging your hips back and forth.

“Good girl, fuck yourself on my fingers, ride it out.”, he growls in your ear. You ride out your orgasm as he said before you eventually stop moving, your legs are shaky and you’re panting. He retrieves his fingers from inside of you - not wanting to overstimulate you, not tonight at least. He’ll leave that for another time.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them as he sucks your juices off your skin, swirling his tongue around his digits to make sure to lick them clean and not miss a single spot. “You taste fuckin’ delicious, babe.”, he whines as soon as he’s done swallowing your arousal.

“I can’t believe we did that.”, you comment with a smirk on your face, sliding your jeans up your thighs, legs feeling a bit jelly. “In your car nonetheless.”

“Yeah, that was wild.” Jisung chuckles. “Like, imagine when our kids will ask us what we did on our first date.”, he chuckles. “What are we gonna tell them?

You snap your head in his direction. “Our kids?”, you quirk an eyebrow at him. “You were scared of my parents not approving of you twenty minutes ago, that escalated pretty fast.”, you tease him, leaning in for a kiss. “Besides, that wasn’t a date.”, you point out.

“It wasn’t?”, he asks, and you shake your head as a no.

“I’m pretty sure fingering me in the backseats of your car doesn’t count as a date, Hanji.”

“I like it when you call me that.”, he smiles, nuzzling your nose with his. “I’ll take you out on a date, babe, I promise. A decent one we can tell our kids about.”, he kisses you on the lips.

You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head playfully as you giggle. “If I were you, I’d worry more about how you’re gonna tell our kids you used to be their mom’s dealer, but whatever floats your boat, Hanji.”, you say and he chuckles and you playfully push him.

“Yeah, maybe we should leave that part out.”, he suggests with a chuckle.

“Maybe we should.”, you giggle, leaning in closer to rest your head on his shoulder. “It would be a fun story, tho.”

“I really want to take you out, babe.”, he mutters after a while, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I wanna treat you right, like the fucking goddess you are, but I don’t know shit about relationships and romance and stuff like that.”, he lets out a deep sigh. “I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You cup his cheek with one hand, looking him in the eyes. “It’s okay, I’m shit at relationships too, we can learn together.”, you reassure him. “What do you think about it?”

“Sounds perfect.”, he smiles before leaning in for a kiss. And another. And then another. And another. Then another two, until you find yourself lying on your back, his body between your legs, hovering over yours, his erection pressed against your crotch.

You pull away from the kiss, panting, only to ask him, breathless:

“Do you want to go back to my place?”

☎︎

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

like/reblog/comment my works if you enjoyed reading them - it encourages me to keep writing more! ♡

if you want to request something, you can do so by clicking on the "💌" emoji on my profile. write down the scenario you have in mind, the skz member and the rating. i'll start writing asap. ♡

538 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 9 months

Note

Hello! In the latest EP of I Feel You Linger in the Air, Yai addresses Jom as Por Jom. Jom seems surprised but I have no understanding of what Por means so it's significance is lost on me. Perhaps you can help shed some light? Also, how was Yai addressing Jom before?

Por/phor honorific in Thai - I Feel You Linger in the Air

I'm glad you asked it so I don't have to.

I have not encountered it before in BL.

Any of the the Thai language spies still out there wanna weigh in?

I did some poking around - but I could be way off base. Still this what I discovered:

Por is a paternal honorific, luang por is used for respected monks.

So I am assuming this use is relatively old fashioned (the reason we don't hear it often in our normal BL) and either one step more intimate or, more likely, one step more respectful than no honorific. Possibly scholarly?

I'm thinking all this has to do with Jom's demonstration of education. Yai has figured out that one of the reasons Jom doesn't belong and cannot fit in with the servants is that he is more educated than a peasant, which adds up to him being originally from a high status and wealthy family, especially speaking English and having travelled (he has a non-Chang Mai accent).

There is very little Thai middle class at the beginning of the 1920s since trade is being dominated/dictated by the West, or Chinese merchant operations, and Siam is a monarchy. So for a nationalize Thai citizen it's either military, landed gentry with trade operations (like Yai), military, or... none of the above. This changes, especially in the south, throughout this decade (as it did in other parts of the world). So there is a rising bourgeoisie going on in the background but it's not that obvious in Chang Mai at this time.

What this means to Yai is that Jom's family either got wiped out or politically entirely disenfranchised possibly as part of the 1912 attempted coups (or even WWI)? This would be mystifying for Yai because Jom doesn't act like he comes from a military family at all. So his background and status is very confusing for Yai, but Yai does know one thing...

Jom is NOT lower class by the standards of Yai's temporal worldview and existence.

For a young man to be educated and yet entirely alone is very dangerous and suspicious. Also, let's be clear, Jom doesn't look or act like a laborer. He red flags "cultured" all over the place.

Yai is paternalistic and caring towards Jom out the gate because Yai has a big ol'crush but also because he recognizes "his own" is trying to survive while isolated and scared. Yai wants to rescue Jom.

Some Historical Context for I Feel You Linger In The Air

I love history and so here's some quick info that any Thai watcher would likely know, but you might not... ready?

Remember:

Burma (Myanmar) to the west is occupied by the British.

The French hold Vietnam to the east.

Everyone is bickering over what would become Cambodia & Laos.

China occasionally gets involved from the North (also, lots of immigrants from China at this time accounting for a large percentage of the merchant/middle class)

Eventually, Japan would invade during WWII.

In part, The Kingdom of Siam was kept a "neutral" party because none of the surrounding colonial powers wanted to risk offending any of the other players in the area.

Siam re-negotiated sovereignty in 1920 (from USA) and 1925 (France & Britain). But during the time of this show (mid to late 1920s) it was back to it's customary type-rope balancing act of extreme diplomacy with the allied western colonial powers that surrounded it. Recognizing that Thailand was never colonized, it's boarders were constantly nibbled at and it was "ambassador-occupied" off and on by Westerners whose military backing and exploitive business concerns simply outmatched the monarchy, especially in the technology department (as well as by reputation on the global stage at the time).

In other words, the farang in this show (James & Robert) are bound to be both the baddies and the power players of the narrative.

The king of Siam at the time (Vajiravudh AKA Rama VI) was initially somewhat popular but also regarded as overly extravagant since Siam was hit by a major postwar recession in 1919. It should be noted that King Vajiravudh had no son because he was most likely gay (which at the time did not much concern Siamese popular opinion, EXCEPT THAT it undermined the stability of the monarchy).

He "died suddenly" in 1925 (age 44) with the monarchy weakened and succession handed off to his younger brother.

In 1932 a small circle of the rising bourgeoisie (all of whom had studied in Europe, mostly Paris), supported by some military, seized power from the monarchy in a practically nonviolent Siamese Revolution installing a constitutional monarchy.

Siam would then go through: dictatorship, WWII, Japanese invasion, Allied occupation, democratic elections, military junta, the Indochina wars, communist insurgency, more democracy and popularization movements, multiple coups, more junta, more monarchy, eventually leading us to the somewhat chaotic insanity of Thai politics we have today. (Which is, frankly, a mix of monarchy, junta, democracy, egocentric popularism, and bribery.)

(source)

#P'ABL gets crazy academic for a moment #a brief history of Thai politics since WWI #Thai BL #I feel You linker in the air #it's a great fucking show but everything makes more sense if you have historical context #thai honorifics #thai language #thai linguistics

195 notes · View notes

bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 5,163

warnings: swearing, cops, talk of jail/billy's abuse, neil, fluff and love

a/n: well, here it is. this is the very last part of my very first series. i am very proud of the ending i've created for these two. i like to think i've given billy what he deserved. i'm so grateful for all of the feedback and support you've given me on the previous parts. also, a part of this relies heavily on hopper’s letter from season 3, so that’s that, and then some of his other dialogue. i’ve found that it fit billy effortlessly. i really hope you enjoy this and maybe find some solace in it. i love you all <333

before you read, listen to: time after time by cyndi lauper and/or the promise by when in rome

————

The first night without Neil, Hopper sits in his car outside the house. He promised no one would hurt them. He means it.

Nicky went to high school with both Hopper and Joyce. In fact, she was suspended for dealing them weed under the bleachers at one point. She regrets nothing to this day.

Because of that, it really wasn’t too difficult to have a heart-to-heart with the man, to get him to sit down with Billy. And Max and you. Susan.

Hopper had shown up at the house to speak with Neil. When he arrived, he told you to keep Billy in his room, though that hadn’t mattered. The second Billy realized he might actually get out of this, that he might live without fear of his own father, he buried his face in your chest, tears wetting your collarbones, your t-shirt.

You’d let him get it all out, stroking his loose and frizzy curls, occasionally laying your hands over his ears to muffle any shouting. Billy squeezed you each time you did so.

Even if he was a little hopeful this might work, Billy couldn’t help but think about that night when he was a kid. When his mama left him with Neil.

He’d sat on his bedroom floor, trying to be quiet while his dad showered, pleading with her.

“Please mom, don’t do this. Please come home.”

“How long? How long?”

“I miss you.”

She was the last person he felt safe with, before you. And she’d gone, leaving her boy with him. Trapped. Part of him wasn’t sure this would work out. He’d hoped for so long that his mother would return, and she hadn’t. Neil had dictated everything in Billy’s life so far, so how was it possible for anything to change?

Hopper had given Neil Hargrove one option.

“You’re gonna sign these papers,” he’d said, gesturing at the divorce packet lying on the table, “and I’m going to quietly take you down to the station and expose you for the piece of shit you are. Lock you up for abusing your child.”

Neil had started screaming about how Hopper had no right to do any of this, to barge into his home claiming all of this.

“Sure, yeah, pitch a fit. Like that’s gonna change anything,” Hopper said, entertained by the fact that Neil was acting like the victim.

During one of the intervals where your hands were pressed to Billy’s ears, the hoop in the left one biting into your palm, you’d caught something Hopper said.

“I suggest you shut your mouth before you give me something else to report.” By the tone in his voice, you could imagine that he was inches from Neil’s face.

“You’re a coward,” Hopper had said. “Beating on your kid because your life didn’t turn out right. Well let me tell you something, that’s not his fault. It’s yours.”

There’d been a knock on Billy’s bedroom door followed by Hop’s gruff voice.

“Y/N, kiddo can I have a minute with you?”

Billy had looked up at you, eyes puffy. “I’ll be right back baby, I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You’d pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he’d held onto your hand until it was too far out of his reach.

Shutting the door carefully behind you, you’d looked at him. “We’re taking him away,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really. He signed, so Susan is good to go.”

Hopper considered letting Neil run away, making him just disappear, but he didn’t want to chance him doing this to someone else. He’d already done that once though, hadn’t he?

“I’m really proud of you for helping him through this, kid. You remind me of your mom.”

His hand had been warm on your shoulder.

“If you want me to be honest, he’s lucky this prison isn’t very big. But that doesn’t mean nothing will happen if others figure out what he’s in for.”

You nodded, knowingly.

“Powell and Callahan just got here. We’re gonna be quiet. No lights, nothing. I don’t want to make this worse for Billy. But if he wants to see, we’re going soon.”

“Thank you, Hopper,” you’d said, hugging him. He’d let you. He’d had his fair share of a shitty father as a kid. Helping someone like Billy is something he’d always wanted to do.

Back in Billy’s room, you’d taken his face in your hands.

“Baby, they’re taking him now. Do you want to watch or stay inside?”

His back had straightened. He knew what he wanted, and he told you as much, so you led him through to the back steps, holding his hand the whole time, Max behind you, resting her chin on her brother's arm.

Billy got to watch them shove his father in the back of a police car, hands behind his back.

He was finally free.

————

Susan pawned most of Neil's more expensive things, that way she'd have money to cover bills for a while and have something to put towards the house payment. She hadn't really been trusted with the financials when Neil was around, aside from basic spending. Now that she had two children to look after, she really didn't want to be in a bad spot.

She had a feeling most newly divorced women would use the money to buy themselves something nice, but she didn't see any point in that. This wasn't about her. This was about making a life where Billy and Max could feel safe.

Even if Billy had whined about it to you at first, having dinner with Max and Susan at least three times a week to start was helping. And he would never admit this, but Susan was actually a pretty damn good cook. Whenever she'd prepared food pre-inmate Neil, they'd been kind of shitty. Billy supposed this had been her tiny form of protest.

It's pretty late now, but Billy is sprawled on the couch watching reruns of whatever. He's really not even entirely sure what's happening on tv. He thinks this might be Cheers. It's the fact that he can be on the couch that he's doing it. He doesn't have any particular reason to hide in his room unless he wants to.

He's missed this couch. It's the same one he's sat on since he was a kid. Since his mother was still around. It was one of the few items that made it to Hawkins when they moved.

Susan has the day off tomorrow. She said so at dinner. Hence why she's still up.

Billy hears her footsteps and looks up when she walks into the room. She gives him a gentle smile.

"I'm making Max some hot chocolate. You feel like some? I have marshmallows too, if you want those."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks."

She smiles again and then disappears for a while before returning with a mug that has a six-year-old Max's hand print on it.

Billy sits up and takes a sip. He can't remember the last time someone made him someone other than you or Nicky made him something like this.

Susan sits down a little ways away from Billy in an oversized chair that Max usually claims as her own. The only time anyone else gets to sit in it are in times like these when she's being forced to do science homework with Dustin yapping in her ear. She'd asked for help, not an entirely new lesson. Dustin did not care.

Susan starts to read a book, and Billy almost forgets she's in the room when she speaks.

"Billy?"

His eyes rove across from the television to her over the top of his mug. She sets the book down.

"I just wanted to apologize. For not doing anything to protect you from your dad. I don't really have a reason other than selfish ones, like I was afraid he'd start on me, or Max. I guess I just thought if he got it out things would be okay." She buries her face in her hands.

"God, I'm so sorry, Billy. This is your home, and I came into your life and took you away from where you'd grown up, and I never stopped to think about what it was doing to you. I was only thinking about myself."

“I should’ve helped take care of you. You were just a kid. You’re still just a kid. And I’ve done nothing but let you down. I want to be better. I’m not saying I want to replace your mom or anything, but I don’t want you to feel unsafe or unwelcome here anymore.”

Billy keeps drinking his hot chocolate but he has to hold it with both hands because they’re shaking now.

“I feel like I don’t even know you. And maybe that’s because you didn’t want to know me, or maybe because I just avoided you.”

“I’m just so sorry, Billy. I want to try. I am trying. The both of you deserve so much better and you don’t have to accept this. I just wanted you to know that and that I care about you.”

Billy is quiet and for a moment it scares Susan, but she understands he might not have anything to say. He might not want to say anything. He might be waiting until he can afford to move out of this fucking house.

But Billy finally sets his mug down. It’s empty. He looks at Susan and he nods.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I understand. I don’t blame you and I appreciate that you want to try. I want to try, too.”

Susan nods back, a sweet smile on her face. It’s gentle, the look she’s giving him.

Billy does understand though. His being the target of Neil’s abuse prevented both Max and Susan from it. He understands that Susan was afraid of her husband and the man that she might not have known he’d unveil to be. She was scared. He understands.

He’s willing to try. To let her in.

She stands and picks up Billy’s empty cup. “Was it okay?” she asks, “It’s just the store bought kind.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was great.”

When she grins at him she looks young. She looks tired and upset, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it means change. Maybe it means she’s learning. She’s trying.

————

“Wear mine.”

Billy looks at you through the mirror in front of which he’s been primping. He claims he doesn’t like it when you say he’s “getting pretty.” His blush says otherwise.

“Yours?”

He rolls his eyes and puts down the hairspray he was holding. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ cold tonight. Just put mine on. I don’t want you to walk all the way back to your house just to get something I have.”

You snort, making for his closet door. “All the way back?”

He bumps your hip with his, a common you-little-shit gesture.

“Because I live so far away.” You greet the pornstar taped to the thin wood before sliding it open.

“Should be on the right,” Billy says, ignoring your comment and shoving cologne down the front of his pants while you aren’t looking. It’s a habit at this point. Shit, he doesn’t even think about it, and he knows he doesn’t have to impress you.

You push around the clothing hanging in his closet, a couple button-ups, leather, a sweater you’ve never seen him in. It’s this cream color, thick and cable knit. You pull it out.

“How come you don’t wear this?” you ask, holding it up to him. He unsnaps another button from his shirt and your eyes follow the movement even though you don’t mean to ogle.

Billy looks the sweater up and down like it’s grossing him out. “I wore it once,” he tells you.

“Once,” you mock playfully, putting the shirt back into his closet.

Billy’s hands are on your hips in an instant, spinning you around. “I thought you were getting a jacket, not raiding my belongings.”

You stick your tongue out at him. It’s childish and you know it, but you do it anyway. He smacks your ass in retaliation, and you go to squeeze his but he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth so that he can kiss your pulse point.

“Barf.” The voice makes you turn your head, and Max has pushed the door open fully where it had been cracked.

“Hi, Max,” you say, pulling your hand from Billy’s grasp, even if he pouts, and moving to actually retrieve the denim jacket you’d been instructed to wear.

You can feel Billy and Max staring at each other. “What do you need?” he asks her.

“Just came to see if we were planning on leaving today or if I should maybe hitch a ride elsewhere.” She enters the room and sits down on the edge of her brother’s bed.

Billy glances at his watch. “You said to have you at El’s by seven-thirty. We’ve got time.”

She crosses her arms and Billy faces the mirror again. He thinks he’s finished. “Did you even finish packing your bag, shithead?”

You shove your arms through the jacket sleeves, looking at Max. She raises her eyebrows. No, she definitely did not. There’s a flash of red hair as she hops up, and then she’s gone, the sound of dresser drawers being yanked open and shut echoing down the hall.

You start rolling up the cuffs, and Billy reaches for the collar, adjusting it for you. You’re focused on getting your hands free when you feel Billy’s finger lifting your chin up. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you once. He pulls away and you move back in, wanting one more. He obliges, albeit grinning at your eagerness. When you’ve gotten your fill, you kiss his cheek, and that’s the one that makes him blush.

He moves away from you, pulling on his own jacket. “I’m gonna go start the car, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Max let it slip once that Billy always went out to warm up the car before taking them to school. She wouldn’t have assumed it was for her right off the bat, but when she realized he didn’t do that when it was just him in the car, she figured out it was him being nice. Now he just does it for the both of you. You won’t ever say anything about it.

You look at yourself in Billy’s mirror, listening to his footsteps down the hall and out into the living room. You put your hands in the pockets of his jacket, and to your surprise you feel something. It’s not spare change, or a lighter–anything you would’ve expected to find.

It’s a sheet of paper. You pull it out, thinking it might be homework he tucked away or a receipt or something. It’s not, though. It’s notebook paper, and it’s been neatly folded like it was done with purpose.

You sit on the edge of Billy’s bed, and unfold it. To your surprise, it’s a page covered in his handwriting, that pretty, sometimes faintly cursive scrawl. There are some lines scratched out because he used a pen and couldn’t erase. But the thing that catches your eye is the very first line. It’s just your name. It’s a letter. A letter for you.

Your heart starts to race and you find yourself beginning to read, sinking further into his mattress.

There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, it reads.

Feelings. Jesus. The truth is, for so long I’d forgotten what those were. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then I sat with you at lunch, and bought you a book, and suddenly you were part of my life. For the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy.

But, tonight I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like I’m pulling away from you or something. I’m sitting here and I’m thinking about the way you looked at me that first night at the record store. The way you held on to me when I slept over for the first time. I’m not even sure if you remember it, but every time I tried to move throughout the night you whined like you were afraid I was going to leave you. Like you needed me.

But you didn’t know about my dad or that I was falling in love with you then. And I can’t stop thinking about how I raised my voice at you when I came over today.

You pause, realizing when it was that he wrote this. The day he fought back.

And I’ve been afraid for so long that I might turn out like him. That I might be just the same. And I’ve been scared that you might realize that too and leave me behind. But I didn’t feel that way today when you spoke to me like a human being and you wanted to work things out. I’m changing. You’re changing me. We’re changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change. Because there’s a part of me that worries you might still change your mind. The rest of me knows you won’t.

So I think maybe what I’m saying is that when you didn’t know about how I felt or who I really am on the inside that it didn’t feel like I’d lose you. But now I’ve let you in and you can see all of me. And now that you’ve said you love me I really don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose you or want you to go.

But I know that’s naive. To think you’ll leave. That’s not who you are. I know you’d look at me and say that’s not how this is going to work.

My whole life everyone has picked someone else over me. Left me behind. Left me on my own. And I know that’s how life works. It’s moving. Always moving and people change whether you like it or not. But you’ve taught me that change can be good. That it doesn’t always mean people changing their mind about me. About caring about me or that I’m good enough to keep around.

And sometimes change is painful. Sometimes it’s sad and sometimes it’s surprising.

Happy.

So you know what? I don’t think change is bad anymore. I think I’m supposed to learn from it. I think that when life hurts, because I know parts of it are going to hurt and there will be things that always hurt, I should remember it. Because the hurt is good. It means I’m out of that cave.

I just want you to hold my hand while I figure it all out.

You finish reading and fold the letter back up, putting it back where you found it. You hadn’t realized you were crying, but you were, and you spend the next few minutes fixing yourself in Billy’s mirror.

When he returns he thinks you’re the one primping.

“Ready, baby?” he asks. “Max is in the car.”

You turn to him, and he smiles at you. That pretty, pretty smile. You kiss him on both cheeks and then shut off his bedroom light.

“I’m ready.”

————

Billy pulls away from Hop’s cabin after dropping Max off, but he’s quick to stop the car again.

You were quiet the whole way there. Sweet as always, no doubt, but it was clear something was bothering you. He doesn’t like it when things upset his girl.

“What are you doing, Hargrove? We’re gonna miss the movie if you keep this up.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Well excuse the hell outta me, hon’.”

You slap your hands against your face, peeking through your fingers at him in hopes that he’ll go ahead and scold you.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong, baby.” Billy doesn’t have to elaborate. You never seem to have to explain your feelings to him much anymore. It’s like he’s figuring you out, like he understands and knows when something’s bugging you or if you’re hurting.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

You nod, and reach into the pocket of the jacket, pulling free the paper. It’s seconds before Billy sees the striped sheet that he remembers what it is, what he’d left in there.

It all comes back to him, his wrist hurting from pouring his heart out, the relief he felt at putting his feelings somewhere.

You hand it to him. He unfolds it and scans it over. “You read it?” He knows you did.

“Yeah.” You smile shyly at him, and it’s the same smile you gave him that very first night that you came to check on him. Billy wants to kiss you, so he leans over the center console and does; he presses his mouth to your forehead, warm and sweet. His presence is all-encompassing: heady cologne, minty gum. So very Billy. So much like home.

He hands the paper back to you. “Feelings, huh?” he says, his mouth pulling up at the corners.

“Feelings.”

You sandwich your hands between your thighs, taking a deep breath. Your eyes start to water and you can’t help it.

“Billy, I would never leave you, okay?” You were hoping the tears wouldn’t spill over, but it doesn’t matter because your voice fails you. It wavers and you sound fragile, young. And then he’s taking your face in his hands, wiping under your eyes even though there isn’t anything to wipe yet, just soothing motions over the apples of your cheeks, calloused thumbs and warm skin.

He stares at you, his eye contact unbreaking. When he looks at you like that, blue eyes boring into yours, you can’t help but feel a little full. Because he’s looking at you like that. You.

“I know that. I know.”

You nod, and he nods with you, so much that it looks silly, the both of you nodding, and you start to laugh.

“I made you feel that way? Really?”

“Of course you did,” Billy says. “My whole life I’ve felt like I’m like a black hole or somethin’. You don’t make me feel that way.”

Your heart aches for him. For this boy who’s had no one tell him how good he is. Who’s finally let you in. Who’s finally realized he can have better, and that he deserves to.

“I love you, Billy.”

He kisses you on each cheek, your face warm against his lips. He grins and you can feel it on your face.

“I love you too.”

When you get to the movie theater, you do pay for popcorn, and you do hand him the snacks you kept in your bag after you take your seats. Your mother said movie candy was getting much too expensive.

You pop a handful of Sno Caps in your mouth, and Billy opens his mouth. You sprinkle some in his, and then reach for his hand.

He looks down at your clasped fingers while a kid almost faceplants with a bucket of popcorn on the way up the stairs. Thankfully their father caught them first.

“You did say you wanted me to hold your hand.”

“I did,” Billy says.

—————

“Sit still, I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Billy crosses his arms, but it’s hard for him to look entirely brooding when he’s got plum shadow on his eyelids. You stand. “Here, Max, supervise.” You hand her the brush between your fingers, and she snorts at her brother from where she lays across your bed.

You make for the living room, suppressing a grin at the sounds of laughter emanating from the area. Susan and Nicky sit on opposite sides of the couch, watching The Golden Girls and talking about whatever it is that mothers-of-dating-children talk about.

“Mom,” you say, coming to a stop in front of her.

“Hi, honeybee. What’s the matter?”

“Can I use some of your makeup? There’s some things you’ve got that I haven’t and–”

She smiles at you, adjusting the well-loved pillow squished behind her back. “You know you can. Whatever you need.”

Her grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling back just the same. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Playing dress up?” Your mother gives you a knowing look, thinking about the idea you’d had in mind ever since you watched Rocky Horror with Billy that first time.

“You could say so,” you tell her, and then you’re off to raid her bathroom cabinet, pulling free the large and full bag of goodies.

You start to rifle through the corduroy pouch, but decide it’d be easier to take the whole thing with you to your room, so that’s what you do.

When you return, you settle on your knees in front of your boyfriend, still finding it odd that you get to call him that now, even if that is exactly what he is to you. Your pretty, pretty boyfriend. Your boyfriend who’s letting you do his makeup.

Max hands you your brush back, raising herself up on her elbows so that she can watch the show better.

“Hi,” you say to him, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Hi,” he responds, his voice showing all signs that he’s both enjoying this, yet also grumping about the fact that he let you do it in the first place. He settles back on his hands, legs spread so that you can sit in between them and reach him. You pull free both the pencil of thick liner you’d been looking for, and a pot of blush you know to be much pinker than the one you’ve got. Yours has also been broken on multiple occasions so that now it’s just little bits of pink powder sliding around in the pan.

You uncap the liner first, a warm brown shade, clearly freshly sharpened by your mother. “Close your eyes, pretty please,” you tell him. He obliges, lids fluttering shut.

You reach out, and starting to drag the tip of the pencil across his skin, you realize your hand isn’t as steady as you’d like, considering the fact that you’re also half-focused on not kneeing Billy in a place you’re quite sure he’d prefer to not be kneed.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and Billy blinks up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working. Just–” You shove the eyeliner pencil into his hands, and then move from between his legs. You grip his calves and move his legs together, then crawl forwards a little and straddle his lap.

He grins up at you, a cocky and mischievous look. “Comfy?”

“Shut up and close your eyes again.”

“Well you don’t want much.”

You pinch the squish of his side and he swats blindly at your arm. You take Billy’s face in your hand, resting the pinky of your dominant one against his cheekbone. This go around you’re able to drag the liner effectively across his eyelid. A tap at his face signals he needs to look up, and when he does, you do the same to his lower hip. Afterwards, you take a super small brush that Max found and use it to smudge the eyeliner out some, that way the lines aren’t so harsh.

You finish and take Billy’s face in your hands again, turning it to face Max. “Thoughts?”

She taps her chin, though smiling all the same. “Very nice.”

With a little more manhandling, you get some mascara on those lashes of his, though not without a little pleased squeaking in the process. It’s at the blush that you get excited enough to make him laugh. You swipe your brush heavily across his cheeks, and then the tip of his nose, where you’re probably much too generous. You don’t care. He looks so, so pretty, all blushy like this.

“Part your lips.” You say, thumb tugging at his bottom one. You put a gloss on Billy’s lips and almost lose it for good. He’s so gorgeous.

When you finish, you wipe your hands clean on a towel and back up a little ways from him to survey your work.

You clap your hands. “Max, help me. Would you look at this?”

She does, laughing gleefully. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

You look Billy in the eyes, and Max hops up off of your bed to get a better look. “You look so gorgeous, my love.”

He’s thankful for the blush in that moment, because without it you’d see the effect your using that name had on him.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Wanna see?” God, you look so happy.

“Do I have to?”

You bite your lip and Billy pulls it free, taking the little handheld mirror from you.

And, honestly, he thinks he looks kinda hot. You picked a good eyeshadow color, one that makes his blue eyes stand out even more, and he just looks pretty. Just as you’d said.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. You did a very good job.”

He goes to kiss you, but you stop him. “Nope. You’ll mess up my work!”

Billy rolls his eyes and flips Max a bird when he sees her giggling at your enthusiasm and his compliance.

“Can I take a picture?” you ask.

Billy holds up his hands. “Oh hell no.”

“Billy, she needs to document her masterpiece,” Max says, though really she knows it’d make great blackmail. That and she loves how happy the both of you seem. She’d like to remember this too.

“Please?” You give him your very best puppy dog eyes, making sure they’re watery and everything. You know he’ll give in.

“Fine. But you show this to anyone, and you’re both dead.”

You laugh, grabbing for your Polaroid camera. “Who the fuck do you think I’m gonna show? Everyone I know is in this room.”

Billy’s smiles then, and you’re just quick enough to catch it. You get another after you kiss his sparkly forehead. And when you’ve finished, you stick them in the frame of your mirror so they’ll always be there.

That night, after Max and Susan have gone home, you sit in the bathroom to help Billy wash the makeup off, but only when you’d let Nicky see, and she thought he looked stunning. Showstopping, she’d said.

And it’s then, as you wipe the rosy tinge from his cheeks, revealing his freckles once again, that you realize months before this you’d been so alone. You’d ached for a moment like this.

And here you were. So even if the journey to get here had hurt, even if it’d been hard and pushed you to your limits, it’s okay. Because that’s how life works. It hurts sometimes. And that’s okay.

Because the hurt? The hurt is good.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy stranger things fic #billy stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove series #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove fluff #jim hopper #max mayfield #billy hargrove x female reader #savannah’s fics

536 notes · View notes

fanfic-lover-girl · 4 months

Text

The HP Epilogue: JKR's trashfire ending to a trash book series

I was reading snippets from the epilogue for the first time and everything about the epilogue is just frustrating. And I want to share things I found intolerable about it to let off steam. These are MY opinions so if you feel differently, I am happy for you. But here is a summary of my gripes.

The names of the Hinny Harry's kids

James Sirius. Albus Severus. Lily Luna. I can empathize with wanting to honour people you love by naming your kids after them...but this is just overkill. Not one of Harry's kids has an original name. Not one! And I said Harry's kids because it seems like Ginny had absolutely no input in the names. If I am being generous, maybe the Luna name was hers, but given the naming pattern of the kids, I am sure that Luna references Lupin and not Luna Lovegood. Sometimes I feel as if Harry has a domineering vibe in Hinny and the kids' names are not doing any favours to combat that. Not surprising as everything about the Hinny romance was dictated by Harry's wants. Who cares about Ginny?

Muggleborne discrimination is bad but pureblood discrimination is A-ok

‘You’re right, sorry,’ said Ron, but unable to help himself, he added, ‘don’t get too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pure-blood.’

I could not believe my eyes when I read this. It's like Ron forgot that HIS family is pureblood! It's the same vibe as a black parent telling their black or mixed kid not to marry another black person! Luna is pureblood! Neville is pureblood! Do the Weasleys have some kind of self-hatred?? Another point to purebloods slowly dying out but who cares? As far as JKR is concerned, the wizards should be aiming to all be mutts with mixed blood :)

BTW the Scorpius/Rose pairing fills me with revulsion. I like Albus and Scorp as friends though! But not so much as lovers.

Marriage is the only way to be truly part of a family

‘Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!’ whispered Lily ecstatically. ‘Teddy would really be part of the family then!’

Got some heavy Hinny vibes from this line of dialogue. Harry did not become a true Weasley until he got with Ginny after all :)

I know Lily is a kid and she means no malice, but I truly felt disgust towards this line. It just bothers me, especially in the context of Hinny and how Ginny functions as a way for Harry to become a Weasley member. Teddy is Harry's godson, he should be like a big brother to Lily. How does becoming a cousin-in-law make him more of a family member compared to being her surrogate big bro??

Do Hogwarts alumni swear an oath of secrecy?

‘And you don’t want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts,’ Harry put in.

He had never told any of his children that before, and he saw the wonder in Albus’s face when he said it.

So James Sirius is telling Albus Severus exaggerated tales about Hogwarts similar to what the Weasley twins did to Ron. But how is this possible? Do the parents not talk about Hogwarts to their kids? If my kid was going to my alma mater, I would tell him/her all about the school when I went there. I don't understand why it seems like parents don't talk about Hogwarts. At least Draco's parents seem to talk to him about the school at least.

Muggle abuse is still funny Ha. Ha.

‘As a matter of fact, I did Confund him,’ Ron whispered to Harry, as together they lifted Albus’s trunk and owl on to the train. ‘I only forgot to look in the wing mirror, and let’s face it, I can use a Supersensory Charm for that.’

Remember that Ron is an Auror! A wizarding cop! But nah muggles are still lesser than wizards so even a guy like Ron who's supposed to be a good hero character feels no shame in messing with their autonomy. Ron is literally so disgusting in the epilogue. Never thought I would end HP finding Ron the least tolerable of the trio when Ron is usually my fav of the 3. Not that the bar is very high for the other two.

JKR really does not like Draco

His hair was receding somewhat, which emphasised the pointed chin.

Of course, JKR can't end the series without throwing more shade at Draco. He's rocking the middle-aged man look, only has one kid and has a love interest that we know squat about. And then in CC, Draco's wife dies! Sigh, I really hate Drastoria...

All is not well

There is still house discrimination. Magical creatures likely still have fewer rights. Aurors like Ron and everyday wizards abuse their powers against muggles. Purebloods are dying out. Wizards like Albus act like they did not grow up in a magical world, aka wizards still have low brain cell counts. But sure, Harry's scar is fine so ALL IS WELL!

I can't believe there are people out here calling JKR a good writer! I see the vast potential of the book series and I feel so sad sometimes. I am so happy that HP never existed in my childhood.

#harry potter series #anti harry potter #harry potter epilogue #hp 19 years later #weasley family #anti hinny #ron weasley critical #anti jkr #draco malfoy #harry james potter #james sirius potter #albus severus potter #lily luna potter #anti scorose #anti drastoria #muggle discrimination #pureblood discrimination #draco deserved a better author

77 notes · View notes

cemeterything · 11 months

Note

i feel like your ocs would have amazing aita posts

oh definitely. in fact here's a sample for you.

Annie: "AITA for constructing a moral framework based on my belief that I am a character in a cosmic horror setting where my knowledge of the horrors makes me a target and thus I must do whatever it takes to survive (NOTE: I have justified the ruination of the lives of hundreds of people thanks to this worldview, but in my defence most of them had the potential to kill me even if they weren't actively trying to do so)"

also "WIBTA if I were to wander the earth leaving a trail of destruction in my wake until someone puts me out of my misery because my boyfriend died"

Lincoln: "AITA for continuing to pursue my passion of making music even though it compels people to kill each other (btw my new album is now available for pre-order!)"

Samara: "AITA for helming a highly dangerous expedition to the Arctic despite my lack of experience in this regard in order to prove to my father that I'm worthy of inheriting his company"

Nicky: "AITA for becoming a tool of the state in the fight to prevent angels and demons from abusing or destroying humanity for extremely personal revenge quest reasons (I do torture people for information as part of my job)"

Eddie: "AITA for placing myself intentionally in high-risk situations to spite my overbearing sister (regardless of your verdict I will be continuing)"

Logan: "AITA for tying my loyalty to whoever I perceive to be the most capable of protecting me from harm at any given time and doing whatever they ask of me unconditionally"

Fen: "AITA for letting people drown if they don't pay me to ferry them across the marshland which I am a physical manifestation of"

The Radio Host: actually i'm not even gonna try to write one for him he's a genocidal dictator who wants to turn the universe into its personal surveillance state

Dante: "AITA for running away from home to play a game that could kill me because I didn't want to talk to my parents about my mental health and also being a nepo baby I guess"

Maja: "WIBTA if I just lay down and gave up while my team are waiting for me to bring back help and rescue"

Pentifer: "AITA for killing innocent people so I can use their corpses as puppets to get close to my assassination targets if I was abused by my creator until I became hateful and cruel and now have no reason to trust that anyone will treat me differently when I'm widely feared and considered an abomination"

Jocelyn: "AITA for being an opportunistic cult leader who eats people and turns them into cocoons for spiders if I was raised to believe I have no choice in the matter"

Ram: "AITA for dying so badly that it was the catalyst of the problems for everyone around me"

Radi: "AITA for being unable to fall in love with the person who loved the person I was before her personality and memories were forcibly erased and I was born from the ashes of her destruction"

176 notes · View notes

chiprewington · 1 month

Note

i am genuinely Not Normal about chip either so im excited to share/ask about headcanons

what do you think his favorite hobbies would be? i personally think he might enjoy birdwatching, some calming minigolf or fishing,,,,

HUM... I know I talked about his hobbies Here and talked about his relationship with video games Here... thinking emoji... I think I'm gonna break down my personal intepretation's view on those three hobbies (birdwatching, minigolf, fishing)! I will say that my interpretation is very. Un-Fun.

Headcanons under the cut, the usual!

Chip to me doesn't really seem like the "watching nature" type. Unfortunately (for me at least) I don't think he'd be very into birdwatching. He'd get disinterested rather quickly and want to move on to something else.

His idea of nature is sitting on a lawn chair out in a quiet high-class suburban neighborhood. And then telling kids to get off his lawn. Or he's just standing in the middle of a golf course and taking in the carefully curated environment that is not naturally grown. This is the only way I can see him genuinely thinking "I love nature".

I also think he's more for normal Golfing than Minigolfing. He'd probably find the latter too gimmicky and childish. That, and considering Minigolfing is associated with toons... I wouldn't be surprised if the moment he tried to play, Cartoon Logic dictates it's funny enough that he always fucks up.

This gets to a point where he gets angry enough at things that his next hit shoots the ball into the stratosphere and then tosses the putter into some water. He's forced to stop playing afterwards because his chest is aching from the anger and now that's stressing him out.

Fishing I feel like is something he would take interest in - but he doesn't know how to do it. He'd need someone to teach him. He'd also need someone to accompany him while he does it.

The reason for this is that as much as he would enjoy the actual act of casting a line and reeling in a fish, he would hold the thing like a white man with the most pained grimace on his face because the fish is still alive and wiggling and slimy and he's just standing there looking at his fishing partner silently begging for help in a pissy way. He hates actually handling and unhooking the fish, it fucks with his autism in a very negative way.

And yet, he would have no problem if the fish wasn't alive and being used to cook. He'd be completely down for a catch and cook as long as he's not the one to purge the fish used.

#ask #chip revvington #chainsaw consultant #corporate clash #corporateclash #toontown corporate clash #toontowncorporateclash #ttcc #toontown #headcanons

26 notes · View notes

vera-king-hrfl · 1 month

Text

I'm not really sure how to introduce this one. It's a continuation of the Zevlor story that's quickly becoming a novel. But I'm posting it for you guys because it's kind of a snippet. It's after we find our man in the illithid colony, and he finds out what happened while he was enthralled. A brief warning. There is some angst, emotional pain, a little self-harm, and major feelings here. No smut in this one. It's also a pretty long scene. I did cry while writing it. I'm not sorry.

Tav is based on my current, who is a noble high elf silver dragon disciple. Highfalutin, I know, but that's what was in my head.

You approach Gale with a bit of trepidation. You're not sure if he'll agree, or even if your idea will work, but you have to try. Zevlor needs his people on his side. Or, at least, for them to understand what actually happened in those dark lands, when he was taken by the Absolute. But you couldn't be the one to do it.

As you move to stand near the wizard, sitting cross-legged on a mat and reading some dusty book you'd found in the house of healing, he looks up and smiles. "Greetings, Tav." Seeing the expression on your face, he rises with a look of concern. "My, you seem agitated. How can I help?"

You bite your lip and take a breath, then speak, your voice tight and apologetic. "I need a favor. If it's not... if you can manage it."

He nods, taking your hand and pressing it. He can be so sweet sometimes. "If it is in my power, I shall do my utmost. What do you need?"

You nod and squeeze his hand, grateful for his friendly devotion. "How are you with... mental domination?"

His eyes widen a little, but he smiles. "I can cast the spell. Depending on the intended victim, I suppose I could maintain it almost indefinitely, as long as there are no other distractions. The power and duration really depend upon my concentration and the target's resistance. But so can you. Why? Who are we dominating today?"

You worry your lower lip with your teeth again and shake your head before continuing. "It cannot be me. They all know... look, Gale. We both know how powerful the elder brain is... with an unprepared mind, it would be almost impossible to resist its influence. Is that right?"

He nods slowly. "Yes, of course, but... oh, I see." He catches on quickly, you reflect, as he works out for himself what you want. "Let me see if I can guess your thought process. I assume this is in reference to your Hellrider and how his people have been treating him since... all that. You want to show them that what happened was not his fault, and you think a little demonstration of that kind of power would be a good way to do that. You can not perform this feat yourself because of your known association with him, so you want me to make a tiefling stand on one foot or something to demonstrate how easy it is to lose oneself in the face of strong magic." He ruminates for a moment, looking thoughtful, then shrugs and smiles. "I don't see that it could hurt to try. Courtesy dictates that I must warn the person I am to control, but even then, I should be able to hold them to my will for some time. May I involve another of our group?"

You nod. "If you think it will help. I can't really keep secrets from any of you anyway. Who are you planning to bring?"

He squeezes your hand and nods decisively before releasing you. "I had a thought to take Karlach with me. She's a tiefling, and she well knows how it is to be compelled to do things she doesn't want. I will go immediately. I saw a group of refugees in the inn recently. I imagine they haven't gone anywhere. I shall do my best to make them understand. Who is the intended target?"

You watch Gale as he nearly bounces on his toes, seeming eager, as always, to demonstrate his skill. "Whoever is the strongest. But... well, don't hurt anyone or humiliate them too much. Just... never mind, you know what to do. It is in your capable hands."

Gale grins and bows. "My lady, I live to serve. Rest a while. You've been burning the candle at both ends lately, and you're a bit overwrought. Stay near. I'll come find you when I'm finished."

You watch him as he heads off to find Karlach and the other tieflings. You are overwrought, nervous, your concern over Zevlor and the refugees, the remaining Chosen, and the Elder Brain mingling and draining your mental faculties. You wander back to your own tent, sitting on a cushion just outside the flap and trying to meditate for a little while to clear your head.

After what seems like ages, but is probably closer to half an hour, you sense Gale and Karlach returning, open your eyes, and struggle to your feet, trying to read their expressions. As they draw near, you can see that they are both smiling. Gale with an expression of satisfaction and Karlach a cheeky grin, bouncing a little as she approaches. She looks around when she arrives, before speaking at half her normal volume. "It worked! You're a genius, Tav. Cal volunteered. He hopped on one foot and everything! Gale was even going to make him slap Lia, but I stopped him, so he grabbed Dammon with the spell too and made them dance together! There was nothing they could do about it." She slaps Gale on the back, and the wizard wheezes, but looks pleased nonetheless.

"Yes indeed," he continues with a smug expression. "Rolan has the strongest mind, but I do not think he would have taken my meddling with it lightly. So I thought maybe, if I dominated two of them at once, when they were prepared for it... and I made it quite clear that my powers do not nearly match those of the brain. I think it's had the desired effect. I believe Tilses went to look for him. She has been on his side the whole time anyway, and the others seem prepared both to apologize and forgive."

You blow out a breath and sag with relief. It was a long shot, and could have gone quite badly, especially with Rolan being so protective of his siblings... But hearing that your plan had worked was a welcome bright spot in an otherwise trying day. You pull them both into a hug, Gale grunting with wounded dignity and with the pressure of the grinning tiefling’s muscles crushing you both, thank them profusely, and then head off to look for Zevlor. Maybe this news would help with the deep depression he'd been struggling with since you rescued him.

The soft call of the scale you'd planted on him leads you toward Rethwin Town. As you approach the mason's guild, you see that Cerys, as well as Tilses, are standing near the doors, heads together in a fervent whispered discussion. You are opening your mouth to greet them when you're startled by a crash from inside, and the crunch and rattle of splintered wood. Cerys notices you first, and waits for you to arrive with a concerned expression. They're both looking at you nervously as another burst of noise echoes from beyond the half open doors, causing them both to flinch as you hurry over.

Noting your concern, Tilses raises her hands, palms facing you. "He's not in any trouble. At least, not from fiends or undead. His only enemy is... well, himself."

Your eyes widen. "Zevlor is making those noises?"

She nods, voice low, "yeah, the Commander is in a state at the moment. We came looking for him and heard the crashes... we thought he was being attacked. But... He's alone in there. At first he was shouting about being weak and unworthy, but then... well, he just started tearing the place apart."

You turn to go into the building, but Cerys catches your arm. "You might not want to go in there, Tav. He's unhinged. I've never seen him in this mood before. He might be... dangerous."

You smile reassuringly and pat her hand. "He won't hurt me." Though, with the sounds coming from beyond the doors, you're not quite so sure as you pretend. "Go back to the inn. Please. If... if anything goes wrong... I can defend myself, but I don't want you in the crossfire. Just in case."

They exchange a long look, but then nod. "Very well," Tilses says quietly. "If anyone can help him, it's you. We know him, but he may be embarrassed... I know he thinks very highly of you." She grips your arm, a plea in her eyes, and then she and the other woman move off, looking over their shoulders once or twice. You wait until they are out of sight, and then take a deep breath and turn toward the doors.

It is dim and dusty in the building, golden motes drifting through the newly revealed sunbeams that are filtering through holes in the battered roof. There is a flurry of movement in the back room, and you pass through the second set of doors just as Zevlor seizes a thick, rotten log from a cradle by the ruined fireplace and rips it in half with his bare hands. He casts the pieces aside and paces the width of the room, his hands shoved into his hair. There is blood on his face and hands, spattered on his dully gleaming armor, and a wreck of shattered crates and tools is scattered about. Your heart aches for him, but you hold your tongue for a moment as you sidle through the door and stand next to it, leaning your back against the wall.

He doesn't notice you at first, so great is his distress, and in the relative quiet, you can hear him whimpering to himself, his voice hovering on the raw edge of sanity. "I tried. I'm so sorry. I wasn't strong enough. They're dead. They hate me. They're right to hate me. It's all my fault. If I had only been stronger..." He grabs another crate and sends it hurtling into the stone wall, where it explodes in a shower of splinters and small nails. You turn your head, but don't move, feeling a few shards pepper the side of your face. He turns back to pace in the other direction, stumbling and nearly falling over as he finally catches sight of you. He freezes and his eyes go wide, orange rings in deep black, shining in the gloom. His mouth wags for a moment, but then firms as he turns his face away.

His words are a low, pained growl when he finally speaks. "You shouldn't be here." His hands flex, and you see that some of his claws are broken, his fingertips bloody. "I couldn't bear it if I... I killed them. Leave, before I..."

You stand away from the wall, approaching him slowly, staying well out of his reach, but preparing a shield just in case. "We both know that's not true," you say quietly, your own hands wringing at your robes. "You weren't in control of..."

He cuts you off with a roar, swinging his fist until it meets a supporting beam with a loud crack of splintered wood. The edifice sways, and dust and bits of ancient birds nests filter down from above. He's not a big man, but in this extremis he's terrifyingly strong, and you hope he doesn't manage to bring the whole roof down on your heads. "But I am responsible! I led them, it was me that... I..." He winces, looking at his hand in confusion, and you see the flash of white bone peeking through his scraped, ruby skin. Dark blood drips onto the floor from his torn flesh, drops scattering among the dust and ashes. "I wasn't good enough for them. I'm not strong enough, couldn't resist her. They're dead because of me. You don't want to associate... I've failed everyone. You deserve someone who..."

He stands there trembling for a moment before looking up and quickly striding toward you, raising his wounded hand to shove you back against the wall, your head hitting the stone so hard you see brief stars drift across your vision. He's on you in an instant, mouth crushing yours, bloody fingers pulling at your clothes. You feel all of his rage and shame and desperation as he kisses you frantically, his teeth cutting into your lips. You let him tear at you, neither returning his violent kiss nor trying to push him away. You're slightly dazed when he suddenly gasps and rips himself away from you. He pants, eyes blazing... "Gods I... I'm... you see? Im no good to anyone. I could have..." He reaches out as if to touch the drop of blood oozing from your bruised lips, a horrified expression on his face, but the lowers his eyes and drops to his knees before you. He covers his face with his hands and keens. "You don't want to be near me. Nobody wants to be near me. I see their faces when... you should leave me. I could never... never be good enough for... I'm not the man you..." he stops, shaking silently in the dust, ragged breaths filtering through his hands.

You stand still for a moment, stunned, but then slowly let yourself sink to the floor, sliding your back down the wall until you’re sitting before him. You keep your tone gentle, "I am perfectly capable of judging for myself what kind of man you are. Here." You reach out and, ever so gently, ease his hands from his face, being careful not to put pressure on the broken one. He resists at first, but then relents. You inspect his bloody hand, lamenting to yourself that you cannot heal him, but you let coolness flow from your fingers, hoping to soothe him and ease the pain into numbness. "Hold still," you say as you release his fingers and reach beneath the hem of your robe to tear a strip from your linen under tunic. He flinches at the ripping sound, but keeps his hand stretched out before him, breathing harshly. You carefully wrap the linen around his hand, sinking a deeper cold into his inflamed flesh as you delicately press on the exposed little bone, easing it back into place and pinching the skin together before wrapping his palm firmly and tucking the end of the makeshift bandage under itself. You cradle the wounded appendage and reach out with your other hand, cupping his cheek lightly. His eyes are wide, sparkling with unshed tears, his mouth working in shock, lip trembling. You lean forward a little to hold his eyes, keeping your voice soft, soothing, "you do not have to carry the world on your shoulders, my love. Let me take some of the weight. Come here."

A silent tear tracks down his ravaged cheek, but he allows you to draw him toward you, laying his bandaged hand on your lap and shifting him so he's sitting before you before pressing his face into your shoulder, lifting your chin to avoid his horns. He curls his tail around himself and hesitantly wraps his good arm around your back, and you hold the armored tiefling close as his lean frame hitches and trembes with silent, heart-wrenching sobs.

The fading beams have crawled a long way up the wall before a low voice nudges you out of your doze. "My. Aren't you two a mess." Zevlor is cradled in your arms, having fallen into a deep sleep after crying himself out. Shadowheart crouches next to you, her expression unusually soft, and looks you over. You know you must look shocking, with your lips bruised and cut, and little streaks of dried blood on your face, your eyes puffy from weeping with heartache over Zevlor's pain. She reaches out and brushes a lock of hair out of your eyes, dropping her voice to a quiet whisper. "We saw the other two return, but it took a while to get it out of them. We waited as long as we dared, and then I came because, well, I'm the most subtle." She smiles. "Good thing too. You look like you both could use a little attention." You nod and shift slightly, letting her see Zevlor's hand, wrapped in the bloody bandage on your lap. He tenses a little, tightening his grip on you and murmuring into your robe, but doesn't wake, such is his exhaustion. Shadowheart reaches out, very lightly touching her fingers to his, and whispers the spell. His breath hitches and he shudders as the tingling power filters through him, but then sighs, seeming to feel the relief even in his sleep. She heals you next, the sensation making your skin prickle with gooseflesh, but you feel the small cuts close and the bruises fade.

"Thank you," you mouth silently, and she nods, leaning back on her heels.

"We will leave you alone as long as you wish. We just wanted to know you were safe." Her expression becomes thoughtful. "You love him." Her own nod follows yours, and she reaches out to brush one knuckle down your cheek before standing. "I'm happy for you. Truly. I will tell the others you are both alright. Take as long as you need. You deserve to be happy." Her smile is almost sweet as she turns away and silently exits the room.

The last light is fading when Zevlor stirs against you. Slowly he turns, easing himself around in your grasp until his eyes, just a flicker of fire in the darkness now, gaze up at you. His voice is a husky whisper, "did you mean it? What you said, before. You called me... or, maybe I was dreaming." He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, a soft, happy sound. "If so, it was a wonderful dream."

You look down at him with a soft smile and bend your head to place a light kiss on his full lips. "I did. And you are. Ai armiel telere maenen hir, Zevlor, and I can only hope you feel the same." He sits up, keeping his arm about you and chuckling softly, looking at you with undisguised adoration.

"I don't know what that means, but I think I can guess. I can see it now, in your eyes." He cups your cheek with a gentle hand. "Are you certain this is what you want? Me? Because, I know... my heart is yours for as long as I draw breath. I love you. So very much." You nod yes, and he slowly leans toward you, taking a deep trembling breath before pressing his lips softly to yours.

Zevlor kisses you chastely for a little while, his lips and hands full of tenderness, before placing a kiss on your forehead, and then resting his own against yours. "Very well, my lady. Together, then." His words are a feather brush against your lips. "But you need me at my best if we are to prevail in this... I will seek the Oathbreaker Knight."

#zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor bg3 #angst #hurt/comfort #self harm #feelings #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #Zevlor nation

27 notes · View notes

anonymous-dentist · 9 months

Note

GOD I LOVE YOUR AU ok question time

- who is in the federation of heros? What founded the federation? Are they powered like cellbit?

- how is cellbit one of the first few born? I feel theres a science experiment plot caught in this and he broke containment. I wonder if he found this out due to being able to scare himself, and that fear immediately projecting to others, making THEM just as scared. Id imagine hed be diagnosed with severe paranoia/etc and then like. Oh SHIT its not. That. Oh fuck.

- what was that leadup that made him a supervillain? Something so minuscule yet so big as fear, to be considered one of the high villains of the city is insane. Some people would probably laugh it off an say physical destruction was scarier than mental, until they see what he actually does.

- who did he murder?????? I wonder if it was someone who defied the "everyones fears projected back to them" ability. Someone unaffected by this, like maybe their own ability counteracted it. One of the federations lower ranked heros attacked... as a citizen... i feel theres more than meets the eye here..... but of course it ended with murder. I feel there could be done with something of luzu and his look alike there.

- i still keep thinking about breaking dawn and how forever is also considered richas's dad, and just thinking about it being kinda switched in this scenario. Cellbit walked into forevers life again an now richas has another dad to annoy the piss out of. Though i do feel him an jaiden would be at each others throats in investigation. She would totally be a foh member to me. He tries to take down them through HER.

- why jaiden? Shes probably the most visible with her apparent ability. I imagine her having hummingbird like abilities. Flying at such a fast rate it can change the force of wind itself, etc etc etc (running on coffee an headaches atm sorrie) but she KNOWS something. She knows the foh is fucked up. She knows its dictating the definition of right an wrong, but she doesnt have the power (YET!!!!!!) to kill them from the inside out.

- heros who are seen as the light amongst the city, vigilantes who are the underbelly of a growing problem/an antibiotic refusing to kill the infection, and singular villain who wants to put a stop to it for all. God. I am jn love with this au im sorry can u tell

- and then theres fucking SPIDER MAN. nobody knows who he may work for since, by the logic of q city, if your a vigilante, your working for someone else directly related to the foh, and being sponsored as such. But theres no calling for spiderman, theres even active "have you seen this person" signs around the city, marking them as a non verbalized threat to the standing of foh. Cellbits key.

- now he needs to convince his friends to help him find spiderman. For....... research. Yes. Totally. He wishes to interview spiderman in hopes to figure out "who he works for", which not really. Hes not the best at lying, nor was he really trying. He wants to crack down the foh to its rotten core.

- he even tries to ask roier for help at some point, right? He talks about the signs around the city, says its a shame that hes on a watch list- and how he swings around to actively web heros against the walls to stop them from hurting another person.

- and its convinent theyre on a coffee date (cellbit didnt even notice, roier did, an hes just awkwardly like... hahahahabah thats really weird why would spiderman stop him but also yeah i get that- why would thet get rid of MY hero <:((("

- cellbits subconsciously like. Shit. Pretty boy is pouting about the vigilante. More reason to find the motherfucker.

SORRY ITS SO LONG ENJOY THE RAMBLEEEE

WOW OKAY so let’s see:

1. It’s a lot like the Federation from the canon qsmp, but it’s also more overtly focused on ‘Protecting the City’ from superpowered threats. It stepped in to fill the shoes of the former police state, and by getting rid of the majority of police officers it both opened up opportunities for villains (and thus heroes and thus the Federation) and for heroes (see: previous parentheses.) The founder is anonymous, a “Mister Duck”.

2. I’m actually lowkey playing by MHA rules. Basically, at some point a couple of decades ago, kids started being born with superpowers. It was the more obvious ones that were discovered first, like a girl in France being born with little duck wings. Cellbit’s ability is less obvious, but his parents were constantly overly worried about him because babies and children are always very very scared of everything. Eventually he realized what was up when he was around nine or ten, but he didn’t really tell anybody because even back then he knew that he would “get in trouble” for it.

3. As for villainy, it was an accident. He needed money after his parents died (of sudden heart attacks, and he pretends he doesn’t know what that actually means), and he isn’t a very intimidating guy on his own, so he kinda… helped himself out a little. And it worked super well, so he kept doing it. And he kept doing it. And then he started going a bit overboard with it and the people he was robbing started dying, too.

4. And as for the murder, Cellbit and the hero were both civilians when they got into an argument. The hero, new to the whole thing, ended up using their ability and actually attacked him. He attacked back, notably without using his ability, and he accidentally killed them. The Feds were NOT happy about this, so they messed with the court proceedings and got him sent to prison for three years. But, hey, at least he got therapy there?

5 and 6. Jaiden is 100% working with the Federation in this au. She and Spider-Man are taking very different approaches to what is fundamentally the same issue here. I think her ability is more parrot-y, but she does work for them now. (It’s a very recent development.)

8-10. Spider-Man is a fan-favorite and the Federation does NOT appreciate him ruining their image!! And he knows that he isn’t well liked by them at the moment, and he doesn’t care because it’s fine if Spider-Man dies. He has a job to do, and he is going to do it.

11-end. And it’s a good thing that Cellbit is such a big Spider-Man fan! It’s something Roier thinks they can use to bond. Definitely. Bonding.

…Can you tell superhero aus are my guilty pleasure lol

#asks!#anon!#deli superhero au

75 notes · View notes

quennofsblog · 7 months

Text

Rosy cheeks

Suguru Geto

You enjoy a good night after work with your family.

Warnings: au!no curses (we want happiness), Suguru calls the reader "Kika", they are married and have a beautiful pair of twins, mentions of Gojo and Satoru, reader is clumsy.

Enjoy <3

⚠️English is not my first language, high chances of finding mistakes because I am not confident with my English !!!

"Mommy? Are we going to be long?"

"Honey, we're already home." You say softly as you help one of your daughters out of her car seat, taking the opportunity and grabbing her primary school bag and your own from work, you both smile as you watch your apartment floor with lights on.

"I wonder what dad made for dinner? Huh? Huh? I hope curyl!!" Hana jumps up and holds her hand tightly.

"It's curry dear, and we ate it yesterday, don't you want something else?" You wave to the doorman and enter the elevator, pressing button five, the addiction to curry, more specifically your daddy's curry that your daughters had, was a little evident, if it weren't for your demand for different dishes, they would certainly they would eat curry their whole lives.

"I don't know, whatever daddy does is fine." She says with a beautiful smile, remembering yesterday's chocolate cake for dessert, as well as other aspects of the previous night.

Taking the keys out of the suitcase, (not before almost dropping all the contents of the suitcase), opening the door, a smell of Ramen appeared making your mouths salivate, in addition to the smell of the soft house appeared, it was like entering another universe, as if there were no problems on the other side of the door.

You were deeply proud to have created this loving home with your long-time husband Suguru Geto, your soulmate, together the two of you created a beautiful environment to raise the next generations.

"Daddy made ramelen!" She takes off her shoes and coat as quickly as possible, then runs down the hallway in search of her father and sister. "Daddy! Kana! We're here!"

You smile, taking off your shoes and placing your coat and suitcase on the rack, stretching your arms and heading straight to the kitchen, only to find a bowl of ramen on the floor, a Suguru cleaning up, and a Kana comforting a crying Hana.

"What happened?" You run over to Suguru, helping him clean up the contents from the floor.

"It seems like Hana-chan inherited your bad manners." He smiles sweetly, placing the bowl in the sink. He comes close to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your hair, tilting his head towards you, looking closely at your face, before grabbing your waist and bringing you closer with a warm hug.

"Um, what a good hug, I missed you love..." Suguru hugs you tightly, squeezing his strangely beautiful waist also with tenderness, he has always been sly and affectionate, since the days of dating.

You rub your head against Geto's chest, your cheeks with reddish tones and your ears that used to be cold, now warming up, you move away a little and look into each other's eyes, love surrounded you and hovered in the air, he got closer, pressing your lips together In yours, at this moment everything disappeared and only the sweet strawberry flavor was felt.

But everything was broken into pieces by Hana's gentle fungi, who still felt guilty about the bowl of ramen.

"Daddy! I'm sorry!" Your heart broke when you saw your daughter's sadness, you moved away from Suguru, kneeling in front of your daughters, hands on their small shoulders.

"Hana, it's okay... Daddy isn't upset, you were just a little careless, weren't you?" You dictate softly, Hana nods carefully before grabbing her sister.

"How about taking a shower while Daddy finishes dinner?" The two look at each other before running upstairs and finding out who will choose today's toy.

You get up awkwardly, due to the tiredness of office work, before also heading towards the stairs, giving Geto an air kiss.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Having showered, everyone sits at the table to have dinner calmly, with the twins sitting in front of you.

"So how was school?" You suck down a large portion of tasty dough, almost choking, but you covered it well.

"It was cool, Professor Helena taught me about numbers and gave me good behavior stamps." Kana says with a shy smile, she was always a little more closed off and quite shy around new people, much more like Suguru, while Hana was much more like you.

"It's good that Kana-chan already knew them before learning them at school, isn't it? And you, Hana-chan?"

"Um... It's just... I..." She shrinks in the chair, you and Geto look at each other before asking.

"Kana? What happened?"

"It's just that Professor Puff gave me stamps of... of... bad behavior, but Hilo took a piece of the Pope's bento!" She says determinedly, even at her young age, she understands how important food is, a courtesy of you for sure.

"Hana-chan... You didn't need to take such violent actions and that's why you have Puff Sensei to help, you have to talk to him about what happened, okay?" He says calmly as always but inside Suguru just repeats:

Hiro-kun isn't it... I want to see if he will steal again when he sees the beautiful amount of very green vegetables tomorrow...

"Daddy is right, whenever something happens to you, tell Professor Puff or Professor Helena right away, yes?"

"Yes mommy!!"

"When are we going on vacation? I want to go to Uncle Toru's house..."

"There's still a long way to go before vacation, Hana-chan, school started a month ago."

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

With dinner finished, you and the twins eagerly awaited Suguru's return, as October was the month of dessert debuts, that is, once a week, your husband debuted a new dessert, so far everyone received 5 stars.

"Tcharam!" Suguru placed a plate with cookies of several different colors.

"That's what daddy?"

"Macarons! It's a typical French recipe, it has chocolate, matcha, I even made a special one for Kana-chan, purple, just how you like it."

"Great!!"

You all took one, before sighing in pleasure at the intense flavor, you quickly got up and grabbed Suguru who was waiting for your evaluations, you hugged him by the arm.

"Suguruuuu! It's so good! Should you give up your life as a teacher and become my personal cook...?" You smile at Geto's side profile, who was taking out the purple (grape) macaron to hand to Kana, who opened her mouth and bit off a piece of the macaron with her small hands.

"As much as I'd love to be your personal chef, I love my job as a teacher, and also, how would I go home without the school gossip?"

"Um, you're right! Don't even think about quitting your job!" You squeeze him tightly and feel a kiss on the top of your head.

Leaving the hug and picking up another macaron, only to find a plate with only five, as it didn't start with about sixteen.

"D-Did you... Take t-all of them? Especially the chocolate ones?" Her eyes became bright and trembling, she picked up a matcha macaron, looking at it sadly.

"Own, my love... I can do more for you..."

"I know, Su-chan, but these were at the premiere, I didn't want to do this, but I'm going to have to punish-" A wind blew in her face and looking at the girls' now empty seats.

Suguru laughed loudly, and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, you hit him and tears ran down your eyes.

"So much drama, Kika. I'll check that they brush their teeth for two minutes."

"MY NAME IS NOT KIKA SUGURU!" He quickly ran up the stairs and disappeared, you just sighed in defeat.

Hello everyone, not many expectations for this, but I hope you like it 🤪🤪.

#jujutsu kaisen #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto #jjk #anime #anime and manga #Suguru❤️❤️#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x y/n

42 notes · View notes

sickvictorianangel · 10 months

Text

This whole “You are a good man, Arthur Morgan” Tiktok videos doesn’t sit well with me.

Now, hear me out. I am not here trying to find a problem with everything, just giving my two cents on the subject. All those videos portray Arthur as a senseless killer, misogynistic and sometimes even racist and borderline abusive. And no! I am not dictating how you should play an open world game. But, the problem with that is when the problematic g@mers decide that this version of a character is canon and go around harassing people who play the game differently or even use that as a way to hide their bigotry.

Playing as High Honor or Low Honor Arthur is a choice the player can make. But remember that Arthur Morgan is not a racist, not a misogynist, not abusive and in general not a bigot at all. And that’s canon. He is an outlaw because society didn’t give him another chance. He is a murderer, not a senseless killer (there’s a huge difference). Low Honor Arthur Morgan means just that he is a cold, guarded man. Not that he is bad and an uncontrollable killer. It means that he didn’t change his ways. Which is, not opening up to others, being confused about who he is in the world and thinking he is just Dutch’s right hand man.

So, remember: You can play the game however you want to play, but your choice on how to play it doesn’t make it canon.

Arthur is a romantic who likes to write, draw pretty flowers and animals, is portrayed to always help others. Also, the name of the game is Red Dead REDEMPTION.

PS: The same applies to John. He is not a senseless bad guy, just immature in the prequel and had to fight his inner demons from a past that didn’t leave him with any other choice but to be an outlaw/ be forced to work for the government. John is a very honorable man who sacrificed everything and himself to those he loved.

(Both are lil babies, so leave my cuties alone)

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #john marston #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption arthur

58 notes · View notes

femmefatalevibe · 1 year

Note

Hiii! I am a new to your page and wants to become more confident to express myself. But do you have any tips for how we highschoolers can add some femme fatale while not acting "too grown"

Hi love! I'm so glad to hear that you're serious about building your confidence and sense of self in high school. Know that this is highly commendable! Anyways, here are some of my tips:

Practice proper posture: Shoulders back, chest up, head held high, back straight.

Learn the power of eye contact and facial expressions: Direct eye contact (held within reason, without staring) communicates confidence. Smile to express an inviting presence to the people who you're socializing with.

Be diligent with your hygiene: Always have your hair, nails, face, and body properly washed and moisturized. Manicured nails and healthy hair demonstrate that you prioritize showing up for yourself.

Consider all-black outfits: A staple leather jacket, satin or silk tops, lace-trimming or cuffs, and well-tailored black pants or jeans or a flowy skirt to emulate Femme fatale energy without looking too risqué for a classroom or a younger teenage age group. Balance any more form-fitting mini skirts with tights and a chunky sweater or a longer coat (like a trench) for a casual elegance that isn't too formal or covered up. Mix and match textures for more intrigue.

Find your signature makeup look: Add some black eyeliner (a thin winged liner and the water line) with some mascara and minimal face makeup to cover any blemishes, under-eye circles, or uneven skin tone. Complete the look with a light wash of blush or bronzer and a neutral lip shade or chapstick for school or the daytime.

Discover and pursue your interests: Don't blindly follow the interests of your peers or your parents' desires. Consider the activities and fields of study that light you up inside and give you energy. Think about the hobbies or industries you could engage in all day and would gladly pursue for free. Join as many clubs, courses, and extracurricular programs as possible in these areas. Read about them, join online communities, and find a mentor (IRL) if possible. Use this time to begin discovering what you want out of life and establishing your own identity.

Give yourself space to explore and own your sexuality: Let go of any shame regarding self-exploration and identity. Your feelings (and pleasure or the confidence you derive from it) are completely normal. Don't allow others' expectations to dictate your choices. Make these decisions for yourself, on your own timeline (and ALWAYS use protection if you decide to engage in partnered sex; birth control is NOT toxic, but not every option works well for everyone). I hope that you have or find someone you trust in your life to discuss these topics with! It's super important.

Remember your life is for YOU: It is normal to feel as though you have to conform to other peoples' expectations of you at this age. And, while they're certain sacrifices you might need to make until (or through early) adulthood, remember that your desired life path is valid and always worth exploring. Choose yourself every time.

Hope this helps xx

#life advice #femme fatale #dark feminine energy #dark femininity #high value woman #self concept #self reflection #it girl #the feminine urge #queen energy #dream girl #self confidence #self care #girl advice #girlblogging #that girl #femmefatalevibe

163 notes · View notes

swaps55 · 6 months

Text

About (writing) Horizon

@painterofhorizons asked me to go into more detail about this post, in which I whinged about the logistical complexities I was running into while drafting Horizon for Mezzo. I proceeded to write a dissertation on the topic, so here is my Ted Talk for anyone who has some time to kill. I kept it as spoiler free as possible. :D

Not surprisingly, I’ve got a number of challenges to deal with to get this scene to have the emotional impact I want it to have, but the one I referenced in that post has mostly to do with what I refer to as setting the chess board. It’s something I do for combat scenes, or scenes where the setting plays any kind of important role in understanding where characters are in relation to one another, or when I just have too many characters in one place. Ideally, before I write the scene, I lay out in my head: what does the setting look like, and who is where?

For fight scenes, this is important so I understand what combat will look like, and so I won’t lose track of anyone during the scene. How many enemies are there? Who is taking on who? What limitations or advantages does the setting provide to influence the action? How can I use that to provide characterization or advance a character arc? Etc. In the case of Horizon, the issue isn’t the combat: it’s understanding where people start and how they get from one place to another.

Here’s the challenge: I have 3, and eventually 4 groups of people or person. Let’s call them A, B, C, and D.

A and B are in very separate locations.

C joins the fray in a 3rd location that cannot be near A or B.

A, B, and C are all aiming to reach the same location: the AA gun.

C cannot encounter A or B, which means A & B must reach the AA gun via different routes than C.

D separates off from C, and must encounter B but not A.

C needs to arrive first, then B, then A, then D.

Simple, right? D:

So instead of the chess board dictating the flow of action, I need to set the chess board in a way to facilitate the scene as I need it to play out. This means the basic layout from the game isn’t sufficient, because it’s too linear, and provides only 1 “entrance” to the area where the AA gun are, and I need two different routes to get there.

Now, am I going to waste a lot of time painstakingly explaining to the reader the layout of Horizon? No. That’s boring, and the reader doesn’t need it. But I need to know it well enough and establish it well enough that even if the reader isn’t backchecking my logic, they trust that I have not dragged them into an MC Escher painting. I don’t want people to stop and wonder, “wait, where the fuck did B come from?” in the middle of a high stakes, high adrenaline scene.

The other logistical issue I have is a very clumsy POV handoff. I do not like putting in a scene break just to switch POVs and continue the exact same scene you were just in, but there is a crucial moment where a POV handoff has to happen as a new character arrives on scene and takes over POV duties from someone who is already present. My options are:

Do the entire scene from the first POV and don’t switch. But this would completely alter the impact of the scene and shut me out of accessing some pretty critical information that only the new POV character will have.

Do the thing I don’t like: put a scene break in the middle of the scene, end the first ‘scene’ on a dramatic moment that feels like the close of a scene before jumping back in with the new character.

Do the scene break, but back up a few minutes before the new POV character arrives on scene. This does two helpful things: creates a fresh scene and minimizes the awkward handoff, while giving me a chance to fill in some of the logistics to avoid the, “where the fuck did this person come from??” problem. Because while I know where they come from, there isn’t a good opportunity for me to communicate it to the reader otherwise. Originally this is what I planned to go with, but when I got there, I changed my mind. The problem with this is that it kills the tension and feels like a bait and switch: get the reader to the moment they have been waiting for, then pull the rug and back up a few steps. The last thing I want in this chapter is for the reader to be frustrated by the way I am telling the story.

End the chapter on the POV switch and move the Big Moment to a new chapter. I don’t love this either, because it feels like a cliffhanger for the sake of a cliffhanger – if not for the POV shift, it wouldn’t occur to me to break the chapter here. While I do love it when people yell at me for things, getting yelled at for this particular cliffhanger would feel cheap and manipulative rather than earned, if that makes any sense.

Option 2 is best for the story, but it leaves me with this clumsy POV handoff that I still don’t like.

Now, on top of all the logistical complexities, I still have the other layers of this chapter: the sheer emotional complexity of it, which causes additional logistical issues. This is some of what I am trying to juggle:

Convey scene setting through the eyes of characters who are not paying a lick of attention to their surroundings because they are preoccupied or distressed by other events.

Telegraph Sam’s distress and anxiety through the eyes of someone who does not have enough context for it. This is further complicated by it being very likely this character would have more context than I would prefer them to have, so now I have to work with that in a way that feels right for the character and right for the story. Too often, supporting characters get shoehorned into plot in ways that does them a disservice, so I try to take the approach that the POV character is now the main character in THEIR story. My job is to get their priorities and motivations to circle back and support the plot while also serving their own interests. Sometimes this is very hard.

Portray Kaidan, a character known for thinking things through, as someone being extremely (and understandably) reactive in a high stakes and very personal moment while still feeling like Kaidan. He cannot be thinking straight, and he would not be thinking straight, but I have to sell that to the reader and make them believe it.

Not losing track of every other character in the scene,while also not having them interrupt the flow of the scene. If you are familiar with Arrested Development, imagine the scenes in which the camera focuses on two characters having a VERY private discussion, only to zoom out and reveal they are surrounded by a much larger, captive audience. That keeps happening in this scene, ha. These characters are not the focus of the scene, but they are still present, and therefore the reader needs to be aware of where they are and what they’re doing so they don’t seem to magically appear out of thin air when they do or say something.

So how do I put all of these pieces together? Well, it’s still in progress, so I don’t have a success story yet, but the emotional thumbtacks come first. The whole point of the scene is something I have been dying to write for years. All the details and logistics that ultimately make it work are just in the way when all I can think about is the Big Confrontation, so I just spit it out, even if it’s mostly just broad strokes, because once it’s out there I can actually think about the rest. Now I can go back through and chip away at the logistics, create a deeper and richer narrative for the POV characters, turn the volume up on the side characters who play a smaller role, and sharpen the knives so those emotional moments really land in a meaningful, gut wrenching way. Doing all of this will inevitably reshape the manner in which some of these events unfold, because drilling deeper into characters often leads to new discoveries. But I can rewire the underlying skeleton when the skeleton at least exists.

The hope is that in the end, it reads like the whole thing was effortless, and you would never guess how much work and angst and handwringing went into writing it unless you read this post. Wish me luck!!!!! I need it.

#painterofhorizons #swaps replies #how writing is written #opus!verse #i hope even a quarter of this made sense #just imagine the charlie day gif #you know the one #it me

32 notes · View notes

fatgumsurpremacy-remastered · 1 year

Note

so like the thing is, i want medic to wrap his hands around my neck until i hear the latex in his gloves start to squeak, nd i wanna feel him up while hes still wearing his heavy over coat and watch him get hotter nd hotter under the collar, and i wanna feel the heavy rubber sole of his shoe between my shoulder blades as he slowly crushes me into the floor, nd i wanna help clean him up and wash all the sweat and gore off him when he returns home from a mission, and let him knock me out with painkiller nd go absolutely fucking crazy on my almost dead body, and - *i am forcibly removed from the podium and booed off the stage*

Ouuuggh wonderful!

Tw: choking, asphyxiation, degradation, horny medical examination, medical malpractice, biting, blood, violence, kicking, stepping, non con, drugs, allusions to death, unprotected sex.

Cycle of Violence Yandere Medic x Fem reader.

Medic had never fazed you before, you made it a mission in the field to either try or die trying.

Your position, in fact, had you actively apart from medic. As a type of support.

The doctor of course, noticed you.

It was nearly impossible not to! In the heat of the battle no one shone as great as you did in the field. So he always had his eyes on you.

When the winter months rolled around your first year you grew weary. Where the respawn machine could keep you from death, it could never keep you from illness.

When you’d respawn.

It’d come back.

Even the blistering heats of New Mexico had to yield to lady winter.

This year was the worst yet. Your engineer had fallen victim to the worst head cold he’d received on account of record breaking cold spikes. Causing you to not only pick up his end of work but also the itching feeling in your throat.

You weren’t scared of your medic.

In fact you found him quite harmless, professional at work, silly off hours. The steel of his door felt like nothing to you as you pushed it open.

The doctor himself seemed frazzled at the notion.

You merely sat yourself on the edge of his operating table and explained the issue to him. After a while he took out his necassary tools.

“Ah yes, and you were saying it was causing breathing abnormalities?”

You nodded as he pressed the stethoscope to your chest. One breath brought wheezing, and the next sharp, dry, coughs. Your shoulder hurt from the intensity of such, and the pain traveled down your arm.

The doctor tsked slightly before practically trotting off to find some more supplies.

Here was the time you likely should have realized something was wrong.

The doctors cold gaze softened as he stared at you. He smiled just as brightly as he normally had, placing a warm, welcome hand on your shoulder. His warm breath smelling fresh as he spoke to you about possible treatment.

And then he pegged this-

“Would you mind at all if we did some testing?”

Something you, didn’t mind at all.

You sat as straight as he told you before the hand, which was previously at his side pressed two fingers against your lymph nodes. He felt around for the ball, just a moment though.

Standard practice would’ve dictated longer. Instead his thumbs met above the center of your throat. Warm rubber feeling strange, as you could feel him shaking.

“Just a test my friend! Don’t worry.” You gave him a thumbs up and his hands clamped down. Your hands shot up to his wrists and your vision instantly began to cloud.

The severity of such a force sent you backwards. Medic fell forward with you, his words garbled. All senses were replaced with energetic heat. It sizzled through your body as if you were being burnt alive.

You couldn’t keep your eyes open during the struggle.

Only high pitched noises breached your ears, and you found yourself not breathing at all.

The cartilage in your spine popped noisily in your brain, and your lungs felt empty. Or full, you couldn’t tell. You felt like you were going to pop. You could barely tell how the doctor was easing his knee between your thighs. Pressed harshly against your heat, how he spit words of filth to you as you weakly held onto his face,

Begging for him to stop.

When you woke up in the respawn machine you couldn’t remember a thing.

How you got there or what caused your death. The idea frightened you but the day went on and every time you breathed your chest pound in anger back at you.

You felt spent and afraid. Whimpering pathetically as you drove your hands along the wall, in a plea you’d make it to Medics room before you died.

And that you did.

You looked up pathetically at the doctor, thanking him with what little breath you could that he let you in.

You were comfortable around medic and had no reason to fear him.

You barely knew him, but he’d always given you a dashing smile around the breakfast table so you knew he could be trusted.

“Now what would you rate your pain my dear?”

You held up an eight on your fingers, whimpering a bit more when he went between them and pressed right above your belly.

Pain coursed in a circle inside you. Painting a portrait in vicious hues before swiping it away again. You held onto the doctors shoulders as he continued. He explained his actions as “Checking for bumps.”

You didn’t understand how that would help you in the slightest but his warmth allowed you to breathe.

Your hand absentmindedly went under his labcoat, fiddling dazed with the shirt underneath.

You expressed no discomfort as his hand stayed stagnant over your chest. The heat permeated your flesh and you felt to do the same.

Your hands fished his shirt out of his pants and slid up the curled expanse of his body. The thick muscles underneath would’ve shocked you had it not been for the beheamoth of medicine he carried around on him. You hummed pleasantly as your seemingly permanently cold hands trailed along him.

As you reached his chest you contentedly rested there. Medic removed his hands from you, only to plant them by either side of your hips and lead closer. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, hearing the fast paced thudding of his heart.

Beads of sweat ran down his neck and you had little thought left in your brain but to lick it. He panted, nearly falling on top of you as you did. The wet feeling of your tongue on him catching him in a vice grip.

He moaned as his arms moved further behind you.

And you only kept working your mouth over his neck, hands kneading gently at his soft and hairy chest.

Suddenly the needle of a syringe stuck your own neck.

When you woke up in the respawn machine you couldn’t remember a thing.

You felt hot and sweaty, unnerved by the way you’d waken up.

You found yourself sticking by medic that entire day. Conversing with the busy man, and fucking up every shot you took.

Your team glared at you as you walked in that day. Your body was wrecked with pain, and one by one you filed into the medbay.

You were mature enough to know you’d fucked up. And you stayed at the back of the line. Dell, who had recovered the night before smiled at you as you went in. He pulled you into a hug before hand offering some words of advice.

“Take it from me kid. We’ve all got out off days out there. It can be pretty stressful, you just gotta remember to keep to your own and stay out of trouble ya hear?” You smiled sheepishly, “Thank you Engie.”

“Anytime sug’.” He said calmly before walking off.

Today you didn’t feel right about medics lab. You hesitated to even call it an “office” as there was no feeling other than brutal tension inside.

“What happened out there?” The door slammed closed from its open position. A shocking feat given its weight. Then man positioned behind it had a calculating gaze. His usually happy demeanour skulking as he slowly brushed by you.

You looked towards the ground, aching hands clasped tightly across your body as you sought for a word that couldn’t be found.

Medic sat impatiently in his rolling chair before gesturing with his finger. When you got close enough to him he grabbed you tightly from the collar of your uniform and pulled you in.

“Sit. You don’t deserve to be above me.”

You sat abruptly listening in for any change in his tone. His demeanor. But you swallowed hard upon realizing what he expected.

Before you could understand what you were telling him, you babbled out apologies on top of one another. You incohearent sentences music to the man’s ears as his posture decompressed. His eyes stared right back into yours, and he could feel the sincerity from you.

“Oh schatz, I understand. I don’t think it was entirely your fault… but then again.” He tilted his head to one side as an impish grin crawled unto his features. “We’re you nor the one who caused our team to loose?”

He stood up imposingly, backlit from the dim white lighting above.

Before you could say anything he shoved your shoulder to the side harshly before taking his heel to your back.

You thrashed up in a feeble attempt to fight back, but his heel stomped down in your tailbone with a sick thud noise.

You yelped in pain, attempting in vain, to crawl away. Like a helpless roach pinned beneath a cat. The feeling only continued to worsen as he slammed his heel back down with reverence between your shoulder blades.

The crack was unholy, and your vision went black. You could only feel the horrible mans boot above you. The pressure keeping your chest flat to the ground. You whined and he hushed you as soft as any lover would.

And again he ground into your back. Heel digging into your muscles until they forcibly snapped- from one another.

You could only scream and hear him laugh as you cried yourself to sleep.

When you woke up in the respawn machine you couldn’t remember a thing.

You sat there, huddled in the corner for a good three hours before someone found you. You can’t remember who.

You don’t remember what you were wearing but it showed that you’d been bleeding for a very long time.

When you were dropped off in the medbay you were unconscious, eyes glued to something in the darkness. Never looking at the lights or grey world around you.

The men had called that day off, but medic insisted that they could go on without you. He’d left you patched up and in your room, recovering well as you stared ahead.

You didn’t understand. It’d been almost a week and you couldn’t remember a thing. You sobbed for a while.

No one came.

You talked to yourself and made yourself mad trying to understand what you were thinking.

No one came.

But he came when you were asleep, gently shaking you awake. Smiling blue eyes the only reprieve you had from a splitting headache and fragmented reality.

His hand came up to meet your head, now bare and uncaring of your flesh.

“Doctor, I’ve been having nightmares.”

You grabbed a wet wipe from your desk and absentmindedly cleaned his hand still sticky with sweat.

You rolled his sleeve up a bit more.

You continued,

he pressed about the dreams, smiling to you as you described how bad they were.

He no longer had a shirt on. He was above you and in his boxers. You wondered just how you ended up this way. Gently wiping off your teams medic, but his warm flesh seized your brains capacity to function.

You brushed through his hair with your fingers, an action that seemed to have him taken aback. But as you retracted them be grabbed your hand and kissed it smiling happily up at you.

“You’re so so cute did you know that?” His smile was unreasonably bright, it hurt to look at.

“I need medication doctor.”

Medic paused his advances as you said this. Confusion melted in his brain but the same hadn’t shown on his face. Instead he scrambled off the bed in search of what he’d brought.

A jar full of pretty pink and blue pills.

You leaned back and popped the ones he gave you with little thought behind the action.

Why would you think?

The room was soooo hot.

Could you remember what happened? What you’d seen, heard, felt…

Felt…

Felt. Hands.

His hands grazed your sides as your eyes glazed over. Already wet with tears you couldn’t feel a damn thing.

Your vision was beging go cloud with liquidy static, starting at the edges before fizzling around the pupil.

You knew it was sleep, but your adrenaline kept you awake.

Awake enough to feel your body being yanked towards him, breasts fondled harshly as he allows his flesh to not examine, but devour.

His nipping, and gnashing jaws, things that would usually be an issue felt like itching at the flesh of a disembodied system. Nothing coukd hurt you here. The ripping threads of your garment littered the floor and he dipped below.

Everything around you felt like it was falling, and moving up around you at the same time.

A horrifying caress of Alice’s experiences in wonder land.

Warm

Wet

Tongue, his tongue on your flesh felt searing, and you couldn’t be bothered in the slightest, your body was limp.

A small and very pliable doll.

Something to wreck

To tear into and devour.

But he didn’t want that now, he wanted you. And he needed just a bit more than the surface level blood he could draw from his biting.

What drew you into this wild world of killing? Had you grown so numb to your natural life that you expected something different here?

Medic shoved his face between your thighs, lasciviously flaunting skills that took years in the making with small flicks and harsh presses of his mouth.

No sounds roused from you. No nothing.

You were still,

And quiet.

And present.

How he wanted you really. From the start he’d hoped to be knuckle deep in your dripping hole. Who cares if the dripping was from lube or not?

It didn’t matter when he held you close and whispered to you. Pretending like what he was doing was normal when you were little more than a warm pillow by then.

He could get over it.

With the same hand inside of you, he started jacking. Warning his cock to slip deep, deep into you.

He wanted you to feel it.

But you couldn’t, so he’d have to improvise.

He lined himself up and slammed in.

Oh it could’ve wakened you.

The thrust almost against your cervix, pounding away the moment he stuck himself in you. The pulsing of his balls, dripping with the precum of a man who had held his orgasms for nearly a month.

He was desperate and he needed you.

He always needed you. And he rolled his hips, thrusting his cock harshly in and out. A brutal pace to set for a cooling fuck doll. The sleep made you cold. You could feel your breath.

The sleep made you cold, and you could feel his hands.

The sleep made you cold.

It made you…

You could feel everything.

The veins on his dick were thick and weaves through the complex structures in your walls. He always angled his cock to hit at the top, and a fraction of a centimeter away from your cervix.

His hair scratched at your skin, sometimes leaving raw red patches were it dragged.

And he just pulled your hair back and hit.

And hit

And hit.

It was at random and accommodating only what he enjoyed doing. And the fuzziness came back, this time the liquid static shot down, furling and curling. It lead your stomach to churning a vicious wave. Everything was floating.

“Ich werde dich zum Abspritzen bringen, Mädchen. Du wirst es tun, bist du nicht mein Haustier? Du bist nah dran und du weißt es. Sperma jetzt, komm jetzt, mach es!”

His spitting words and hand snatched ruthlessly across your face forced the waves within you to crash.

The feeling sent you forward on shaky legs, ass in the air as he turned you around and shoved himself back in.

Warmth.

Finally.

Deep and burning, and placid.

Like a thick blanket of-

When you woke up in the respawn machine you couldn’t.

#yandere medic #yandere medic tf2 #yandere medic smut #yandere medic tf2 smut #yandere medic x reader #yandere medic tf2 x reader #yandere medic x reader smut #yandere medic tf2 x reader smut

117 notes · View notes