#could be reader conspiracy theorist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abbyromanoff · 9 months

Text

YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE

PAIRINGS: GF!Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 5,142

WARNINGS: Nat is ghost face, smut, killing, blood, dark!Nat, Nat has a dick, cnc, dubcon, daddy kink, begging, praise, degrading, fingering, facials, dry-humping, knives, carving, pain kink, hair pulling, manipulation, size kink, tummy bulges, blowjobs, breeding, unprotected sex, kinda dark!R, very dark descriptions of death, kinda depressed!r, mentions of cheating (no cheating actually happens tho), think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Your eerie apartment was filled with complete silence. You could hear the clock on the wall slowly ticking away at your life, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You couldn’t find it in you to care if your entire existence would vanish in the spot, there was nothing left for you to live for anyways.

You clicked through the channels mindlessly, hoping to find something that could entertain you. The pizza box left on the table had three pieces left - all cold. Your girlfriend had been out for god knows how long. Your phone was next to you, taking Nat’s spot on the couch. It was nearly dead, but that didn’t matter, you didn’t get any notifications anyways.

Suddenly, after minutes of surfing through the tv, the blasting sounds of a breaking emergency filled your ears. The news reporter, a blonde woman most likely in her late thirties, stared dead into your eyes without knowledge of it. She read the words from the telegraph, a small shake in her voice as the man next to her hid a fearful gulp.

It started a few months ago, people reported dead all around the city. The only problem was that it was New York, there were small and large crimes daily; no cop, no matter how good, would ever be able to figure out who was the masked killer.

There had already been over ten found bodies, there was a small part of you who wished you were one of them. Blood would smear the walls of the victim's houses, a new letter to create a large sentence being designed ever so slowly. You wondered what they’d do if they got to each letter, would they stop? Would they be caught beforehand? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to know.

Every video you found online was all about the same topic, who is this new Ghostface, as they called him. When would he strike again? Is it even a he? You didn’t bother, they were just a bunch of conspiracy theorists who had such little to do in their lives that they became so invested in others. So what if they were crazy? Isn’t everyone at least a little bit?

You could hear the sound of keys dangling outside of your door and rolled your eyes, she was back.

“Hey, beautiful.” She muttered when she got near you, planting a kiss on top of your head and climbing onto the couch. She took the spot next to you, accidentally sitting on your drained phone.

“Look who’s home.” She tried placing her arm around your neck, only to feel you shuffle away. You wouldn’t even look at her, only going to stand up and grab the recycling left on the coffee table.

“Oh, c’mon, are you really mad at me?” She attempted to pull you back down, make you sit with her so she can finally hold you; but you shrugged her off. She sighed, rolling her head back and trying to find comfort in the cheap sofa that did nothing for her.

“Why would I be mad? Because you were out all night and didn’t bother to text me or call me back? Or maybe because you smell like that bitches perfume?” You asked, sarcasm evident in your voice. She groaned and stood back up, yawning as she walked into the kitchen where you stood, back facing her as you scrubbed the dishes.

She watched you for a moment, her side leaning on the fridge as she crossed her arms over her broad chest. She waited for anything else, any other comment, but none came. Instead, she grabbed a warm beer from the six-pack box that was resting on the floor next to the counter. She easily popped open the cap and flicked it in the direction of the trash, hoping it made it in.

Your gaze traveled to the side when you noticed the glass bottle being placed next to you and let out a deep and frustrated sigh as you felt her hands rubbing your arms.

“You really think I’d fuck someone else when I have you right here?” She smirked with pure cockiness, it nearly made you want to puke. When you still did not indicate forgiveness or submitting, her smirk dropped.

“Why don’t you believe me, doll? I give you everything you ask and you still don’t trust me?” You felt her crotch poking your backside and tried to hide the goosebumps that arose to the surface. Her hands were gentle as they moved your hair to one side, letting your neck be displayed as you subconsciously leaned into her pecks. She kissed from your exposed shoulder up to your jawline, stopping there as you felt her hot breath against your cold skin.

“Nat-”

“Shh, isn’t this what you wanted?” You showed no evidence to prove her right. You wanted her to feel bad, it’s what she deserved. Who was she to think she can just take off whenever she wants, fuck who she wants, and have the audacity to get annoyed at your worries.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad, makes me just wanna- take you right here.” You felt her hands slide down your pants and dip into your panties. She audibly gasped when feeling your wetness gushing on her fingers.

“You want this, hm? You want daddy’s fingers?” Your palms gripped the ends of your countertop as her middle finger rubbed your clit slowly.

“More.” You choked out, your hips involuntarily grinding into her, chasing the pleasure. She chuckled, shaking her head and tsking.

“No, no, you need to tell me you want it, baby girl.” Your mouth opened, only to release a silent scream as she eased a finger into you. You fucking hated her, despised her, but she knew you perfectly, she knew exactly how to make you tell her how much you love her.

“I want it.” She hummed, signaling for you to continue. You groaned in annoyance, your hand traveling to your chest where you palmed your tits.

“I want it…daddy. I want you, please.” You struggled to get out through gritted teeth, hating how the words sounded coming from your mouth. This was the last time she’d get away with something through fucking you, you’d tell yourself, yet you seemed to repeat those words in your mind every single time. And every single time you ended up back in this situation, orgasms rushing through you while you acted like a desperate whore for any sort of attention she’d offer.

You wondered if her other woman felt the same as you, who couldn’t despise her every move?

“That’s a good girl, you’re daddy’s good little girl, right?” You nodded, your head falling on her shoulder as you tried to find hold of something. Her cock rubbed against your skin as she fucked herself to your pleasured state.

“Cum with me. Make a fucking mess, you slut.”

Your sleeping body laid with the blanket covering only your chest to the tops of your thighs. Nat was next to you, brushing the hair out of your face and smiling at your state. You look beautiful, you always did, but you looked even better when you were shut up for once. She wished she could just fuck that attitude right out of you.

Of course, she wasn’t cheating, no idiot would do such a thing to someone like you. You were a feisty little thing, if you ever found out she was cheating you’d beat her ass into her own grave and plead insanity - she taught you well.

“I’ll be back soon, pretty girl.” She whispered even when knowing you couldn’t hear such words. You shuffled in your sleep and she gave your forehead one last kiss before standing, finding a new pair of boxers and a bra before grabbing her clothing. She had everything she needed in her bag - her mask, outfit, and most importantly, her knife. The best part about it all was that the knife was a custom design you ordered for her for your first Christmas as a pair. It had her initials on it with a heart next to it, reminding her of your love. Your past love for her at least, everything was different now. She didn’t want to hurt you, but you couldn’t figure her out just yet. She’d tell you eventually, she wanted to, she loved nothing more than bragging about her killings, and with you, she’d finally have someone to do so with.

There was still that fear that you wouldn’t accept it though, it wasn’t exactly an easy topic to be brought up. But she couldn’t wait to prove to you that she was in fact loyal, just maybe not clean of her sins.

With one last glance, she left, closing the door behind her and walking down the stairs of the cheap building, shuffling the bag from shoulder to shoulder. She threw it in the car once she found her keys, settling herself in the driver's seat and preparing herself before driving off, her main destination in mind.

“Alright, Mar, let’s see just how well you handle it.” She mumbled to herself, her elbow slamming into the glass of the woman’s back window. She was in, the easiest part was done, and now it was just her time to have fun.

When you woke in the middle of the night, 2:43 AM reading on the clock, you searched for your lover, only to come up empty-handed. You bit back the bile in your throat and threw the blanket over you angrily, grabbing the suitcase you kept under your bed. It was meant for trips, now it was being used to kick out your girlfriend; if she even was that anymore. You didn’t know what changed her, who changed her, but you were done. If she wanted someone else then she could have them, she already used up all the chances you offered her.

Then, there was the sound of the keys rattling, she was back for the last time. You stood up with the luggage in hand, throwing the door open as you were planning to be greeted by a hickey-stained Nat with more excuses pooling out of her, but there was no one to be seen.

“Get the fuck out here, Nat.” You waited for something, but there was no sign of her. You noticed her keys resting on the ground in front of the door, covered in blood. You gulped, taking a step back from nothing.

“Nat? Babe, where- where are you?” You yelled out, your head turning in all directions to look for her. You still found no one, it was pitch black, and nearly impossible to find any sighting of anything besides the luggage by your feet. Your hands were sweaty as your body was stuck in place, you couldn’t move.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Nat, get out here right now.” Hands landed on your shoulders, a low whisper coming to your ear.

“Boo.” You jumped, turning around only to find a person dressed in all black besides their mask. The face covering looked like the design of a ghost, one that a child would draw as their mother praised them for what a good job they did, even if they knew it was horrible.

The man twirled the knife in his hands, watching your fear grow in your eyes and motions.

“Aww, did I scare you, baby girl?” You were able to really listen in on their voice this time, it sounded familiar. You suddenly regretted everything you had said earlier on, you weren’t ready to die just yet.

“No need to be scared, it’s just me.” The man went down on one knee in front of you, knife still in hand near their leg as his hand ventured to his mask, removing the plastic only to see,

“Nat?” She chuckled darkly, reaching up to switch on the light that was sitting on a small table next to you.

“What the fuck was that?” She tried to reach out for your face, only to be pushed away; she wasn’t having that. She gripped your arm tightly, your wrist starting to ache the more she squeezed. She took pleasure in seeing such pain and fear in your features, it somehow made you all the more beautiful.

“Nat- stop it, you’re hurting me.” She smiled darkly as you spoke.

“Perfect.” You thought this was the end, she was going to kill you, your girlfriend was going to kill you. But there seemed to be no move made to do so.

“If you’re going to kill me just get it over with already.” She let go of your arm and you noticed the tensity in her jaw increasing, her head turning just enough for her darkened glare to look all the more dangerous.

“Oh, baby, you really think I’d kill you? There’s no point, it’s not like anyone would miss you.” The words hurt even more than your wrist in the moment, you bit back a remark, choosing to play your cards right and not argue with the woman now pointing a knife at you.

“No, I’m not going to kill you, we’re just gonna have a bit of fun together, alright?” The cold metal pressed against your neck, the sharp tip nearly causing you to leak blood. You whimpered the further she went, your skin barrier breaking as a red substance slowly dripped down your neck.

“Fuck, you don’t know how badly I’ve been wanting this, I’ve been just dying to see you dripping in blood all at the hands of my knife.” You didn’t move, didn’t speak, the fear of what she’d do to you if so indulging you.

“You know, I was planning to come home to my gorgeous little girl laying in bed, ready to take me whenever I want. But instead, I came home to a suitcase of my clothes ready for me, you were gonna kick me out, huh?” You slowly nodded, wetness pooling in your eyes and your shorts. You squeezed your eyes shut in shame, it was so wrong to be needy after such things, she was holding a deadly object to your body and you were still turned on, were you just as crazy as her?

“But seeing that look in your eyes I- fuck, I just wanted you so much more. I was going to tell you, but I- I didn’t know how you’d react, you know?” She was practically manic as she spewed jumbled-up words, her eyes wide and her laugh being as haunted as her soul.

“I mean, just watching Maria on the floor, begging for her life to be saved- it just made me want to shove this knife so deep inside of her and watch as her life slowly drained from her eyes until there was nothing left.” Your own eyes widened at her words, trying to scramble as far away from her as you could. There was no escape though, you were pressed against the wall and she was surrounding every part of you, including your mind.

“Don’t run from me, baby.” She started. “All of this- all of it would’ve been prevented if it wasn’t for you. God, you’re just such a fucking slut, whoring yourself out to practically everyone. Do I not do enough for you? I fucking killed for you and that’s not enough?” You knew this was all the manipulation tactics that she noticed seemed to work with you, and it was working. You were ready to spit out apology after apology, praying for forgiveness, just like all of her victims.

She quickly reached for her bag, and you wanted nothing less than to know what was in there. She grabbed a small book, opening it to show the multiple photos of bloodied victims fallen at her hands. She looked proud, excited, all to show you her work.

“Maybe these people would’ve still been alive if it wasn’t for you.” You tore your eyes away quickly, you couldn’t stand seeing such brutality. It wasn’t your fault, you weren’t the one who hurt them, you told yourself. But there was that nagging thought, what if she did kill them because of you? Sure, you flirted, you had old flings but they weren’t contacted since you started your long relationship with Nat.

“Maria didn’t deserve this, none of them did.” You sobbed out, flinching when you felt her hand on your cheek. It was a soothing matter, one meant to calm you, but it did everything but. Suddenly, the same hand connected harshly with the skin, causing it to instantly redden in pain.

“They wanted you, baby, you should’ve known that. You think I didn’t pick up on Maria’s glances at your ass or these, perfect breasts of yours?” She groped your body with desire, shuddering out a breath while doing so.

“Of course, you didn’t notice, you thought she was just being ‘nice’, so fucking stupid.”

“And Wanda? She had a husband, Nat, a family.” Instead of giving you the response you wanted, an explanation to it all, she just continued to tease your nipples with the pad of her thumb through the fabric.

“You know I’d never kill you, right?” It took you a moment before you could get out a hesitant nod, struggling to fully believe her. You always trusted her, but times changed, and so did she.

“I like hurting people, it excites me. But you, I could never do such a thing, I never want to see you in pain, pretty girl.” She murmurs, moving her free hand to her crotch where she rubbed herself thoroughly.

“I just- you ever get so angry, so sick of someone, you just wish you could, like, kill them? Sometimes when we get into those heated arguments, I just wonder how much you’d be willing to beg me not to hurt you.” You watched as she slowly slid the black suit over her head, revealing her black sweatpants. She lowered them to her knees, and let her boxers make way to your vision.

“I’d never act on it, but with others, you don’t need to care about how much they mean to you, because their life costs me nothing but annoyance. I’d kill every last soul on this planet just for you, all you’d have to do is ask.” She grasped your hand, leading it to her confined cock as you palmed her length. Your breathing was ragged, shaky as you refused to look her in the eyes. You knew if you stared too deep into that emerald glaze, there would be no stopping. You wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her if you saw the care hidden deep inside of her.

“If I let you touch me, will you stop?” The killings are what you meant, but there was a hidden meaning in the words.

“I can’t promise you I’ll be able to, love.” There was a small whimper escaping her lips as you dipped your hand inside her underwear, grasping her cock in your hands as you stroked with a back-and-forth motion.

“That’s it, don’t stop.” You couldn’t believe yourself, you were sick, insane. Was this normal? No, it couldn’t be. But it felt so good, there was no stopping it. You wanted to see her face contort into pleasure, you wanted to see what she’d do to you. Would she treat you the same as Maria? Would she kill you when you were done? Did she mean it when she sputtered those words? You didn’t want to die just yet, you used to think you did, but that was until you faced death with open arms. How could a criminal, a serial murderer, a psychopath look so perfect? She still looked the same, but there was blood covering her hands and her red hair was messy, her forehead covered in trails of sweat.

“I’m- God, you’re such a good little girl, so fucking perfect.” She noticed the way your thighs clenched, rubbing together as your hips jutted into the air.

“Does someone like when daddy compliments them? Tells them how good they’re doing?” You nodded quickly, your mouth aching to land on her crotch.

“Yeah? You like being a good girl? Or do you like being a good little slut for me?” Both. The answer was both. You wanted nothing more than to prove your worth to her, but you wanted her to treat you like you had none.

“I’m cumming, baby, I’m fucking cumming.” She clenched her jaw tightly and groaned deeply as continuous spurts of cum coated your face. She looked down, grasping your hair in her hands to create a ponytail before forcing herself into your mouth. She could feel the salty tears that had traveled down to your lips spreading amongst her dick, making her grin.

“Swallow daddy’s cum, little girl.” She whispered, dragging you up and down as you gagged around her. Some dribbled down your chin, but she didn’t mind, and neither did you. It had been so long since she felt the warmth that was your mouth, you had been refusing to have sex with her until earlier today. When she finally got her hands on you, it felt magical, like a long-awaiting finale to a show.

“Your throat is so fucking tight,” She said. “I know you must be so wet, you like it when I’m rough, don’t ya’?” She extracted her length from your mouth, causing you to let out a multiple of deep breaths. She tossed your loose shorts to the side after ripping them in half, her biceps flexing in the short moment it took to do so.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you, Y/N.” She rarely ever used your name, it was almost odd to hear such a thing. She got ahold of your thighs, pulling you forward and, if it wasn’t for her your hand massaging the part of your scalp she tugged, your head would’ve roughly slammed against the wooden floor.

Your thighs were then lifted to meet your stomach, her cock standing tall as she guided herself to prod at your hole. She rubbed up and down your folds, moaning lowly at the wetness coating you. She pressed herself teasingly against your clit, watching as your lips twitched upward.

“Nat- condom.”

“Oh, no, baby, I have a little something planned for tonight.” She eyed you with a soft smile as if it was the most obvious thing, you wished it didn’t turn you on as much as it did.

“You giving me that look isn’t going to help your case, it only makes me want to fuck you even more.” She stated when you gulped, giving her a nervous and feared look. This wasn’t your Nat, this was someone else, but you loved her just as much.

“F-fuck, you’re so warm and- tight!” She mumbled as her tip slowly opened you up. It was difficult to fit close to half of her inside of you, you didn’t know how you’d manage all of her. She held girth to her, and she was proud to point it out. She loved noticing how tiny you were compared to her, how her cock seemed to stretch you out more so than anything ever has before. No toy had come close; you became dependent on her length to fulfill your needs.

Your shirt soon joined your shorts as she tore it off you, roughly grasping your breast and squeezing as if it were a stress ball.

“Don’t do that. You’re a big girl, you can take it.” You whined pitifully, but her gaze was only filled with lust as her skin managed to press against yours. You had never once been able to take every last inch of her, but you were so wet, more than you’ve ever been. This side of her brought out something inside of you, something so shameful, you didn’t want to acknowledge it. But Nat did. She could sense how badly you had been wanting to spice things up for months, it was almost starting to turn out to be boring between you two, and she never expected you to act so compliant.

“Daddy, you’re so big.” She rested both arms at either side of your head, staring down at you with an intensity you longed for. You could see how badly she was trying to hold back from hurting you, but she wanted to so much. The thought of you covered in your blood only made her cock throb and pulse. She leaned down, letting her mouth ghost against yours, causing you to pull her forward to connect yourself with her. Her tongue poked at your lips, begging to get a taste of you. You didn’t let her, only pulling back with your eyes slowly trailing from her parted lips to her forest-green eyes.

“Fuck me, Nat.” She never liked her name all that much, she thought it was basic. But hearing it come from your mouth with your voice, it did things to her.

She pulled her hips back, her length sliding out of you, only to fuck itself back into you. Your tits jumped with your body as the thrust, her gaze couldn’t leave them.

She was in a deep state of arousal, even worse than you. And her knife was right there, it would’ve been so easy to repeat her actions onto her own body, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t care if she was a killer, you still loved her, you were as sick and gross as her. If anything, the thought fascinated you. You always enjoyed gore movies, and she was more than ecstatic when she found someone who shared her deep love for such acts, and you thought it was normal at first. That was until she asked you if you ever thought about doing the same things they did. You instantly said no, a little too quickly. Nat knew you were far from innocent, but she loved this part of you more than anything. You accepted her, even if she was insane.

“That feel good?” She asked, her voice coming out in stutters and cracked moans. You had released a loud whimper when she hit that spot deep inside of you, your nails clawing at her skin. She liked the pain, it sent a thrill through her body.

You felt a sharp poke against the skin of your thigh, looking down only to find her weapon covered in the blood of a previous fool, and now you were just the same.

“Nat-”

“Shh, just- shut up and take what I give you, alright?” She let the knife cut into you, leaving red liquid behind as it trailed down your body. It was warm, yet it still sent chills down your spine.

“You look so beautiful with my design, sweetheart.” She had carved an ‘N’, waiting and hoping for the end result where it’d scar your body forever. She didn’t know why she loved it so much, maybe if she hadn’t lied to the psychiatrists, she’d know.

“You think I should do the same thing…here?” Your skin lied a red trail that followed up until your neck, stopping short as she noticed your breathing patterns change.

“I could easily kill you, and no one would know.” She chuckled, bringing her face to rest on your shoulder, her nose against your neck as she inhaled your sweet scent. The knife pressed down a little harder, letting the skin break as a droplet fell.

“I know you won’t.” You whispered, goosebumps erupting over your skin. You were close, so close. You needed her, anything from her.

“Smart girl you are, hm?” Her hips were starting to lose rhythm the longer she went, it was growing more difficult to keep the same pace. The coil in her stomach had been begging to be let free, to finally relax as she came.

“You gonna cum, baby?” You nodded, moans consuming you making it impossible to speak. She finally leaned back, placing her palms on your stomach where a bulge appeared. She gasped, drawing in your attention as you hesitantly followed her vision. You bit your lip in hunger when noticing what caught your girlfriend’s attention, you had found her loving the way she could overpower you at any moment; taking you however she wanted because you couldn’t deny it. She adored being larger than you, it fueled that pride hidden inside of her.

“Oh, daddy must be stretching you out so, so much, huh? You’re just a cute little slut, so small compared to me.”

“Please-”

“Please, what?” She felt her peak rising further, she needed to release.

“Please cum inside me.” She was already planning to whether you wanted it or not, but seeing your dislike to the thought of children or pregnancy, she thought you’d never let her do so. She grinned, throwing her head back as she tried to muster out a response.

“I am, baby, I’m gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you. Cum with me.” She felt your juices coating her length as your legs shook violently. Pumps of her release shot into you, a deep groan caving its way out of her.

“You’ll look so sexy carrying my babies.” She had the image planted deep in her mind, she wanted to make it a reality.

“Yes! Please- God, fuck!” She didn’t stop after your first orgasm, causing your sensitivity to grow until you couldn’t take such abuse anymore. The blood on your skin had dried, and red hand marks that would soon bruise made way to your vision.

“You’re okay, just relax.” You couldn’t believe it, the murderer you had spent nights praising for their impressive kill count and multiple days fearing was your girlfriend, and you didn’t even hate her for it.

“I told you, I’ll kill anyone for you. I want us to get away from the city, find someplace to lie low for a little bit, at least until they cross me out as a suspect. We can be happy, we can have everything you’ve always wanted, together.” She kissed the back of your hand, letting them leave a pattern up your arm until she reached your face, leaving a long and passionate kiss on your lips.

You weren’t ready for this, you didn’t even have money. And there were so many things that could go wrong, but wasn’t it worse in a place like this? There, you’d have a knowing of where Nat would be, she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone anymore. But would she ever really stop? Or was she just saying that to ease your worries? You didn’t know, but you also didn’t care. You’d always have Nat, in any way possible.

“Okay.”

2K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 9 months

Text

signed up for life | lewis hamilton social media au

pairing: lewis hamilton x signlanguageinterpretator!reader

f1 finally introduces a sign language interpretor to their media team

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo and 110,951 others

yourusername: ahhhh such a dream come true, my first f1 weekend was an absolute dream and to be able to represent the deaf community on such a big platform was such a pleasure - here's to many more and to normalising sign language on major sports broadcasts !!

view all comments

user1: f1 may be going backwards in terms of fia tomfoolery but i'm super happy to see some good progress

user2: why isn't sign language compulsory in schools? seeing y/n has defo inspired me to start learning

lewishamilton: you're such an inspiration and a great addition to the paddock

yourusername: thank you lewis and thank you for the warm welcome <3

user3: f1 finally stepping up the representation game

user4: i was living for the sass in her signing i can't wait to watch her sign the inevitable domestic between toto and christian

charles_leclerc: welcome to the paddock y/n!

yourusername: thank you charles :)

user5: i ship it already

user6: take a day off already lord she's been there one weekend and you're already minimising her to a driver she could date

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername and 1,204,871 others

tagged: yourusername

f1: how did you guys enjoy y/n y/ln's sky sports debut this weekend? y/n will be on the broadcast team this season as their sign language interpreter!

view all comments

user10: she killed it i love her already

user11: the signing was a slay but can we also talk about how she's slaying the fashion game?

user12: finally lewis has some good competition

lewishamilton liked this comment

alexalbon: welcome y/n !! thank you for the extra help with the hard of hearing fans on friday

user13: huh?

user14: oh a girl on twitter has a thread about this, she's hard of hearing and y/n stopped and acted as translator for her with all of the drivers going into the paddock

user15: omg i love her even more

lewishamilton: can't wait to start my signing lessons

yourusername: you're lucky you've got the best teacher around

user16: uh HELLO?

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, lilymunhe and 149,086 others

yourusername: taking advantage of the mini break

view all comments

user17: who told her she could serve this hard?

lilymunhe: gosh i have a crush on you

alexalbon: do i mean nothing to you?

lilymunhe: not compared to her

yourusername: well i am flattered but unfortunately not up for grabs :(

user18: she's not up for grabs ??? we already lost her ???

user19: it's only been like five races who ever it is wasn't messing around

user20: not to be one of those crazy wag conspiracy theorists but the guy in the last slide is defo lewis

lewishamilton: pastries on a boat?

yourusername: idk the guy i was with thought it was a great idea

user21: chatting like it wasn't him they're so shameless

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63 and 1,023,677 others

lewishamilton: perks to living in monaco

view all comments

user22: oh to be rich...

yourusername: hmmm a baguette on a boat

lewishamilton: idk the girl i was with thought it was a great idea

user23: please stop playing with us

georgerussell63: i see my invite was lost in the post yet again

lewishamilton: i wasn't prepared to hear you complain about thirdwheeling the whole time

georgerussell63: clear solution here... invite carmen and it's a double date?

user24: so they're just gonna be like this and just never confirm whether they're together or not?

charles_leclerc: so this is what my boat was used for ?

lewishamilton: i think i'll keep everything that happened on that boat to myself

charles_leclerc: based on that i don't think i want to know

user25: poor guy, getting fucked by ferrari and lewis fucked y/n on his boat

pierregasly: most action he's seen in a while

user26: charles is just catching so many strays 😭

f1wagupdates

liked by user38, user29 and 2,340 others

tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton

f1wagupdates: y/n y/ln and lewis hamilton have all but confirmed their relationship after they spent the entire summer break together and arrived to the first race back at spa together. lewis even showed how much time they've been spending together by signing during a tiktok filmed for mercedes' account. what do you think of the couple?

view all comments

user39: they're so so cute that's my PADDOCK POWER COUPLE

user40: they are too sexy it should be illegal for them to be so sexy

user41: can't wait for some bitter old men to say that she can't be on the broadcast team cause of "bias"

user42: i need them to stand on me

user43: i think they might actually be the best f1 couple ever soz

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, lewishamilton and 309,778 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername: yeah i guess he won yet another race but we all know his biggest win is off the track

view all comments

user44: mama knows her worth i love her

lewishamilton: never doubt that you're my biggest prize

yourusername: i love youuuuuuuuuu

lewishamilton: leave your meeting and come home please

user45: move over roscoe i'm their dog now anything to be with them

roscoelovescoco: ????

lilymunhe: give me a chance i swear

alexalbon: i regret ever introducing you two

yourusername: oh please albono you love any excuse to hang out with us

lewishamilton: yea i don't hear you complaining on our double dates

user46: lily, y/n, lewis and alex all double date ???? kill me.

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,340,887 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: getting to the end of the season and the hard work is paying off. we keep pushing until the end but always remember to take time to be with the ones you love

view all comments

user47: only this man could make a race win post so sappy

yourusername: proud of you baby

lewishamilton: i love you

user48: the fact that lewis is so good at signing now he could do most of his post race interview in bsl (though he still needs y/n there for reassurance)

user49: i was there and interlagos had a mainstage activity of y/n teaching basic sign language I LOVED IT

mercedesamgf1: let's go lewis 💪

roscoelovescoco: lets goooooooo dads

user50: guys i worked out that sign we always see lewis and y/n do to each other that's not on any of dictionaries i've looked at - it's their sign names and saying they love each other

user51: they're so fucking cheesy but i love them

mercedesamgf1

liked by yourusername, f1 and 1,679,045 others

tagged: lewishamilton

mercedesamgf1: LEWIS HAMILTON IS FINALLY AN EIGHT TIME CHAMPION OF THE WORLD 🏆

view all comments

user52: OMFG IT FINALLY HAPPENED I NEEDED THIS SO MCUH

yourusername: speechless honestly

lewishamilton: really? cause all i heard was screaming on the broadcast

yourusername: FALSE I WAS PROFESSIONAL

user53: the way i knew he would win but i don't know what to do with myself now it has happened?

roscoelovescoco: congrats dad !!!!

georgerussell63: mega season from lewis 🏆 we go again next season 💪

lewishamilton: thank you george, your time will come

user54: the kiss... parents for real

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton and 901,347 others

tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername: this season has been a rollercoaster but two things have stood out to me. 1. i met the love of my life and the man i will be with for the rest of my life and was able to watch the man i love make history and i couldn't be prouder. 2. i got to represent my community on one of the biggest platforms ever and inspire people to pick up the beautiful language of sign language which is the most rewarding part of my job!! thank you so much for this opportunity, the love and for taking the journey into sign language, we welcome you xx

view all comments

user53: no i love you so much and your addition to f1 is invaluable

user54: you guys are so cute and so inspiring, really god's favourites

lewishamilton: i love you so much, thank you for your love and support and for introducing me to this beautiful language

yourusername: you're such an inspiration to me baby, you're a record holder and the holder of my heart

landonorris: lord i might throw up

yourusernme: if you're not here to congratulate STFU

landonorris: my bad, congrats (you guys are so grossly in love)

user55: they're so parents it's now illegal for them to divorce

f1: thank you for educating us, we'll see you next season !

note: hope y'all enjoy, i'm partially deaf in both ears and am currently learning BSL to feel closer to my community and had this idea. i wish this was an actual position in f1 but hopefully in the future xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton instagram au

2K notes · View notes

rippersz · 22 days

Text

𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)

(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore.

They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you.

Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety.

—

Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed.

Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby.

But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while...

Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh.

You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh.

It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to.

You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience?

Thinking about it gave you a headache.

For where was the point in wondering?

You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because-

Because-

Wait.

Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of…

“Fuck.”

You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right.

“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood.

You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill.

There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy.

“Help! Help!”

Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell.

A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength.

“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet.

In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.

“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.

The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you.

Too late.

You were too late.

And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead.

Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage.

Too late.

You were too late.

You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed.

But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you.

Something–a sound–made you freeze.

It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement.

Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag.

Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did.

The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then-

“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap.

“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere.

You shook your head.

“Words. Use them.”

“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle.

“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life.

“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.

“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.”

“And the others?”

You blinked. “Others? What oth-”

“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent.

Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in.

“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.”

The gun still didn’t move.

“They don’t ambush. What really happened?”

Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures.

So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth.

“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.”

“How long since?”

“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own.

“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned.

Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.

“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-”

Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world.

“-we can’t just leave them-”

“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”

“-not stupid. We need more people-”

Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window.

“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone.

With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.

“Woah-”

“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?”

The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told.

“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade.

But she didn’t move.

It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak.

“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed.

Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went.

“More like a rat.”

And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.

You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you.

“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot.

With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest.

You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked.

“Um- thank you for-”

“Shoot them.”

“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched.

“You heard me. Shoot them.”

“Pha-”

“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?”

“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off.

“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”

You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude.

“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact.

Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming.

“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers.

“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-”

“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return.

“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view.

As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.

—

“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep.

Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun.

“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word.

Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you.

“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass.

The grass.

You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-

oh.

Oh.

You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit.

How fucking lucky were you?

“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance.

Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that.

After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger.

—

“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead.

It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.

Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.

“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches.

Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her.

“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms.

The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.

“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall.

You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps.

“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority.

“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline.

The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck.

“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up.

“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.”

“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group.

“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself.

That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.

“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway.

Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue.

“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.”

Lucifer? Naked under the what?

You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were…

“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?”

“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?”

“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.

“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”

“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.

“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.

“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”

Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.

Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body.

“Okay. Yes. Sure.”

“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider.

“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors.

You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you.

“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes.

Red lips twitched.

“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.”

“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.

“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.

You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up.

“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.”

You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat.

“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully.

You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right.

Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat.

“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.”

A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard.

“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through.

“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang.

“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.”

“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips.

Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done.

“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time?

“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa.

“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?”

Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded.

“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted.

“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.”

Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath.

“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.

“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it.

And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you.

Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence.

“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.

“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.”

She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.”

You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow.

It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away.

“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.

At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering.

“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant.

Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand.

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.”

It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

206 notes · View notes

nevadancitizen · 8 months

Text

-> (I'VE BEEN) DREAMING OF YOU

synopsis: könig comes into your reality.

word count: 1.2k

characters: könig, player! reader

trigger warnings: mention of canon-typical violence, maybe slightly obsessive könig oops lol

notes: self-aware cod au belongs to @puff0o0 , inspired by @simp4konig // i moved for college lol hopefully i'll be able to upload(?) more often + salf-aware aus are really my thing huh. my jam if you will

It had been a week since König figured out he wasn’t real.

At least, that’s what he approximated it to be. Time was tricky if he actually tried to count the seconds and minutes and hours.

But when he stepped off the helicopter and trudged back into base, he knew he would at least have some sense of relief. Some sense of… realness, even though he knew he only existed through the wires of ethernet cables, or maybe even something as primitive as a CD.

König knew his boots tracked in mud and blood and maybe even guts, but he didn’t care. Everything would be wiped clean and be put on a new plate tomorrow for… he guessed they would be called the players, to eat.

He shut the door to his quarters behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes and sighing. He desperately wished he could tell someone, anyone, about what he had witnessed – what he knew to be true.

He felt crazy. He felt blessed. He felt like a conspiracy theorist that was just re-inventing the idea that the whole world is a simulation – because it is! People re-invented ideas all the time, but there was nothing shameful in it. But if the rest of humanity (and for all he knew, humanity could only be KorTac and Specgru) oohed and aahed and said, “God, we live in a simulation? I’ve never heard that one before!” just to make him feel good, nothing would ever get done. But it still stung to know such a heavenly being existed and to keep such a huge secret.

Of course he was talking about you, thinking about you. When did he not think of you, actually?

He felt almost hollow without you. Like you had given him warmth with your control – a raging bonfire he could only observe from a distance, but still felt the full heat of: as in, an actual heat in his chest whenever he felt his control slipping away, replaced with the security that came with being in your presence. And König didn’t hate it. Not at all.

He didn’t even bother to shrug off his work equipment before he threw himself onto his bed. He turned over and swaddled himself with his blanket to try and emulate your warmth. It did nothing.

It was a while before he fell asleep. And he had the strangest dream…

He was in your room. He had only caught glances of it, but here he was, tangled in your blankets and in your bed.

And there you were. Sitting at your desk, typing away at your laptop. Your back was to him, but he could tell it was you. Even at this distance, you were so warm.

You were wearing the big, chunky headphones you always wore when you played. He could hear quiet thumping bass coming from them. It was the only sound he could hear aside from your quick keystrokes.

König slowly untangled himself from your blankets – he still had his boots on, the ones that had mud and blood and maybe even guts. Then he realized he had all of his work equipment on.

He stood and surveyed his surroundings. Everything in your room was so… you. (Obviously. It was your room.)

His eyes snapped back to you when you took off your headphones. You pressed a button on the side to pause your music and then set them down. You stretched your arms above your head and let out a quiet groan as you leaned back.

You looked so soft. So cute. Nothing like what König had seen through the screen. You had been slightly bitcrushed and pixelated, but now…

The warmth that blossomed in his chest was like no other. It spread out into his limbs, almost making him weak in the knees. His eyelids fluttered, but he forced them open to look at you, take in more of you.

He tried to say your name softly, as to not startle you, but it came out choked and loud and awkward. His voice even cracked.

You were so scared you nearly punched a hole through your monitor. You stood and turned, immediately grabbing a pair of scissors that were on your desk.

Your hand shook as you pointed the pair of scissors at König. “T… take off the hood!”

König kept his feet planted firmly on the ground, even bending at the knee a little to be less threatening. He puts up his hands in a surrendering manner. “Schatz, no, it’s me. It’s König.”

“Shut up!” you barked. “I’m not – no way am I being killed or robbed or whatever by someone in cosplay!” Your eyes flit over his body, spotting a knife on his utility belt. “And give me your knife. Try anything and I’m – I’ll…” you glanced down at the pair of scissors (which you can’t really stab him with). “I’ll snip your dick off!”

It honestly takes a bit of effort on König’s part not to laugh. Still, he slowly, carefully took the knife out of its holster and offered it to you, the blade pointed towards his chest. “Please, be careful.”

“I know how to handle knives,” you snapped. You put the pair of scissors back on your desk and took to pointing König’s knife at him. You took a tentative step closer, your jaw set. You reached a shaking hand out towards König’s face. “Don’t… move.”

"Mein Leibling.” König breathed out the words. “What are you doing?”

“The mask,” you said. “I’m taking it off. Then I’m calling the police.”

König just looked at you with wide eyes, his blue-grey eyes stark against his eyeblack. His eyebrows creased as he looked down at you, but said nothing.

And then, König felt a blossoming warmth as his face was exposed for the first time in what felt like forever.

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your eyes rove over his face. Under the hood wasn’t a face: nothing except for his eyes, eyebrows, and a little bit of the surrounding skin. The rest of it was unloaded textures, a checkerboard of black and bright purple.

“Schatz…”

“König…”

König’s eyes opened as you said his name. You didn’t notice before, but his eyes were detailed, told a story. This wasn’t the king of the battlefield – this was König. Here, he wasn’t a killer, wasn’t someone who saws someone’s head off with a dull plastic knife and doesn’t even blink when the blood spurts out. He wasn’t the long-shot-drop-pop one-bullet-wonder. He was a man.

König gently reached up and took your wrist and pulled your hand away from his hood. It fell back into place, covering up his checkerboard face.

He looked down at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

“You’re…” you sighed – not disappointedly, but more surprised. “You’re actually him. You’re König.”

“I am,” König said simply.

“Schatz,” you said. “What does that mean?”

König smiled down at you, even though he didn’t have a mouth. His eyes crinkled at the outsides. “Treasure.”

He gently let go of your wrist, his hand traveling up your arm until it came to your shoulder. His fingers brushed against your jaw, the rough texture of his gloves making you tense just the slightest bit.

He whispers softly, like he’s afraid of you hearing his voice. “My treasured player.”

599 notes · View notes

bonkwosher · 1 year

Note

Ho could you do a joel x reader where maybe tess is jealous. And maybe that we get close to ellie ?

A/N: I just got caught up on the show for this... Bill & Frank- I need a hug, they are so precious. Anyways, yes, this. I'm not hung up on anything /j /lh

Pairings: Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Contains: Jealous Tess (obviously), Bill & Frank (CRY ABOUT IT), family member death, implied age gap (10ish years), only one bed? lmao, reader gets injured

2009, Six years after the apocalypse started

You were in your late-20s when you wound up lost & alone. Your dad was a conspiracy theorist before the outbreak & he kept you safe. You lived in a bunker in the middle of some random forest. Everything was fine, you were as happy as one could be in a zombie-infested world. Well... you were until your dad didn't come back from hunting. After a week, you went outside. The color assortment that filled your vision had you borderline overwhelmed. While taking in the view, a guttural sound hits your ears. You turned to see your father, infected & staring at you like a starving predator.

"No," you muttered, there was no way he could've been bit, right?

Your denial was ripped from your body when he began to run at you. You screamed & sprinted off, out of the forest. As you ran, a fence slowly came into view. Safety? You beelined towards your possible safe haven, barely taking note of the tripwire on the floor. At the last second, you jumped over it & kept running. You continued running until a gunshot went off. you quickly stopped & raised your hands above your head.

"I'm not infected!" You yelled, gulping & closing your eyes.

The fact that the sounds of your assailant had stopped made you turn your head. Your father, or what was left of him, lay dead on the floor. A bullet hole on either side of his head.

"It's just a stray infected, Frank!" Bill shouted from behind you.

No sudden movements, they'll shoot, "I'm not infected! Please, I need help."

"Turn around!"

You turned slowly to face the man. He was tall, 50s maybe older, the more important detail was the large gun pointed at your head.

"That's a hunting rifle, my father loved to hunt," you tried to find common ground.

"Where is he now?"

You nodded behind you. Bill slowly leaned to the side to look past you & kept a poker face, his boyfriend did not, "You poor thing."

"How are you alive when he's...?" Bill trailed off.

"My father was a prepper, I just got home from college graduation the day that things went to shit. This is my first time seeing a color other than gray in years."

"When did you last eat?" Frank yelled from behind the fence.

"Five days ago."

"Oh my god, Bill, let them in!"

Bill seemed very upset, "Hold your horses. You, stand still & keep your arms in the air."

Bill pulled out a cordyceps scanner & held it to your head. You know you weren't bit but you still were afraid it would show red. The device beeped & Bill gave it a cursory glance before nodding towards the gate. You two walked back & into the gated town.

Frank directed you to the shower & laid you out some of their clothes for the meantime (They totally take you to the boutique later). As much as Bill wants to kick you out immediately, Frank convinces him otherwise. You eat a meal & cannot stop completing Bill's cooking. As soon as you finish, Frank asks you to sit on the couch while he talks to Bill.

"We have to let them stay, they're practically a child!" Frank whispered.

"No, absolutely not. We do not have to do anything to help them."

"Okay, Bill. We don't need to. I- I want to," Frank hesitated with his words, knowing no matter what, he'd upset his boyfriend.

"They could hurt us."

"They don't want to!"

"You don't know that!"

Frank grabbed Bill's arm & led him into the living room. You were curled up in a ball & fast asleep. Bill's eyes softened for a moment, he knew he wouldn't win this argument.

Bill was cold around you initially, but he grew to care for you. Frank, on the other hand, practically babied you. He wanted to do everything for &/or with you. He would style you, go on runs with you, teach you how to garden & paint, whatever made you happy. You quickly became something like his own child. You tried your best to learn from Bill, thinking it would allow you to be closer. Boy, were you right. When you asked him to teach you how to hunt he wanted to sign the adoption papers right there (if there were any). Although you were a full-grown adult, it became an unspoken thing that you were their child. You thought you wouldn't see another human until one day you heard your fathers fighting outside.

"Well, I've been talking to a nice woman on the radio!" Frank yelled (I'm too tired to find the exact lines).

There was a pause, "YOU WHAT?!"

Within a couple days, visitors appeared at your gate. The three of you walked up to the gate, all dressed nicely. The only thing that reminded you that you were in the apocalypse was the fact that a gun rested at your hip & another was pointed by Bill, right at the visitors.

"Please put the gun down, Bill."

"It's me, Tess! I brought my friend Joel like I said!" The woman yelled.

You became distracted by the man for a second. He was tall & dressed in a nice brown jacket & jeans, a gun holstered on his hip as well. He's smart. Frank let the two in & scanned them to keep Bill sane.

"They're healthy, Bill!" Frank turned to you, "Y/N, take Joel to get some vegetables for lunch. It'll make cooking lunch easier for your father. I'm going to show Tess around."

"Alright," you spoke quickly, desperately trying to hide the fact that hanging out with this handsome stranger excited you.

Joel gave you a soft smile as he walked towards you. Unbeknownst to you, Tess saw your cheeks flush as you looked up at her friend. She gave an unseen glare in your direction before Frank whisked her away for a tour. You lead Joel to the main garden, filled with vegetables.

"So... they're your fathers?" Joel tried to start a conversation.

"Well, you know, not biologically. They took me in last year & kind of... adopted me."

"Aren't you an adult?"

"Twenty-nine, yes. I don't care, it's nice to have a family in these times."

"I guess you're right."

You two knelt down next to the garden to pick some carrots.

"Is Tess your...?" You began, seeing if you even had a chance.

"It's complicated, I guess, no."

"Oh, I'm sorry to pry."

You both reached for the same carrot & you grabbed Joel's hand on accident. You jumped & apologized profusely.

"Hey, Y/N, it's okay," hearing his deep, southern voice say your name sent chills down your spine.

"We- We should pick some lettuce or something, I don't know."

"You don't have a list?"

"No."

"Lettuce it is."

The two of you picked vegetables for a while longer & Joel offered to carry everything back for you. Arguably, a good thing for two reasons. One, you didn't have to waste your strength. Two, you ended up falling flat on your face & not one vegetable was harmed. Your leg caught on a root of an overgrown tree & you hit your head on the sidewalk. Your consciousness level was unstable at best, Joel set the vegetables down & picked you up.

"Bill! We need some bandages!"

Joel opened the door & brought you into the dining room, setting you down in a chair. Bill entered the room & saw you hurt.

"What happened?!"

"They fell while we were walking, hit their head on concrete."

Joel lightly pressed a towel to your forehead, "We're lucky, no broken skull. Can you get some bandages?"

Bill left & returned with a first aid kit & pulled out some rubbing alcohol, pouring a little onto your cut. You winced & Joel's hand darted to yours, offering you comfort through reassuring squeezes. The two men wrapped your head in some bandages & brought you random snacks.

"Feeling any better?" Joel was still holding your hand.

"Yes, thank you. I'm such a klutz sometimes."

"Well then, I think I need to come back more often to make sure you don't hurt yourself," Joel gave you a small smile before looking down at your hand.

Tess & Frank walked through the front door talking about possible trades. Tess had picked up the basket of vegetables that you two had left behind.

Frank noticed you in the kitchen & rushed to your side, holding your face with both hands, "Y/N, what happened?"

"I'm fine, I just tripped again. Joel bandaged me up & stopped the bleeding," You spoke softly & gave Joel's hand a squeeze to say 'thank you.'

"Thank you, Joel, you don't even know how much this means to me," Frank stood up & took the vegetables from Tess before heading to the kitchen, "Keep them safe, I'm going to help Bill in the kitchen."

Tess looked down at your & Joel's hands then held eye contact with Joel. She directed a glare at her friend. Joel looked at the floor & quickly pulled his hand from yours. You looked over at Joel only for him to stand up & walk towards the kitchen.

"I'm going to see if they need help in there."

With that, you were left alone with Tess. She seemed nice, but you managed to miss all her looks & just thought something was up with Joel.

"Joel & I are together," Tess finally broke the silence, crossing her arms.

Well, now you didn't want to be a home wrecker, "Good for you two."

"Get the hint, kid. It means back off."

"I'm not a kid."

"Oh shut the fuck up, Joel is at least ten years older than you. You're practically a baby."

You paused to figure out how to word this, "Look... I don't want to cause any problems. Joel told me there was nothing going on between you two. Plus, we met maybe half an hour ago, nothing was happening."

Tess dignified your response with a nod before sitting down. You two sat in silence for a moment. You heard a lot of metal clinking coming from the kitchen.

"Y/N! Come help Joel!" Frank yelled.

You entered the kitchen to see Joel on his knees picking up a pile of utensils. How did he manage this?! You knelt down beside Joel & began picking up all the utensils. Once they were collected, you handed them to Bill & Frank to wash. They, in turn, trusted you two to bring out the plates & glasses.

"Don't drop them this time, Joel," Frank teased.

The two of you walked outside & began setting the table. Tess sat on the porch & watched you.

"How'd you end up dropping everything, that looked like you emptied the whole drawer," you laughed.

"Your father, Frank, stepped away from the sink at just the right time to bump into me as I was heading outside with everything."

"Well, maybe you need me to make sure you don't hurt yourself either," you teased, giving him a light jab to the arm.

Joel looked down & smiled, "Yeah, maybe I do."

"Joel! Come over here, I need to talk to you about the trade deal we're making!" You two finally noticed Tess on the porch.

Joel gave you a soft smile, maybe saying he was sorry to leave again, & ran off toward Tess.

Joel & Tess chatted on the porch while you finished setting the table. Every time Joel would unknowingly turn his attention to you, Tess would do her best to pull his attention back. She was growing annoyed each time you'd walk by, drawing his eyes to you. Still believing the two of them were in a relationship, you resisted the urge to touch his arm or pat his head as you walked by each time, simply to remind him you were there. Not like he needed you to remind him anyways, he was doing pretty good at that by himself.

Lunch was short, Bill kept a gun pointed at Joel for a while, much to your & Frank's chagrin. Frank decided to show Tess something & left you with Joel & Bill. You continued to eat your food as the two of them spoke.

"If my," Joel paused & looked at you, "If I had a partner that did this, I'd be upset too."

You were genuinely confused & hiding it didn't even come to mind. Joel placed his hand on your arm, pulling your focus back to him.

"Something on your mind?" He chuckled.

I shouldn't bring it up, "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Frank had decided it was too late to let your visitors return home, they had to stay the night. After dinner, you took the dishes & began washing them. You could hear the conversation, even with the door closed.

"Alright, Y/N can share their bed with one person, the other can have the couch in the living room."

Joel practically jumped the gun but did his best not to sound excited, "I can share the bed with Y/N."

Tess looked shocked. Frank looked at Bill with a knowing smile.

"I-I mean, I'm too tall for that couch. It would be uncomfortable. Tess would fit, right Tess?"

"Yeah, you're right."

You walked back into the dining room & Frank asked you to show Joel to your room. You avoided eye contact with Tess & walked toward your room, the only thing implying Joel was following you was the sound of heavy footsteps. You arrived & opened the door, allowing Joel to walk in first. He silently admired your room while you hopped onto your bed. It was getting late so you were already on the verge of knocking out.

"Ready for bed?" You asked with a yawn.

"Just about," Joel spoke as he saw you bury yourself in the covers.

"It can get pretty cold in here at night, but maybe with the two of us it'll be tolerable."

Joel took off his shoes & climbed into bed next to you. Your comforters were softer than he'd felt in years.

"Oh my god, this is so much better than the QZ," Joel turned to face you & the reality of the situation hit you like a truck.

Your face was extremely red now. You were sharing a bed with this stranger you just met, who may or may not be in a relationship, & you have a huge crush on him. His face was close enough to the point where you could feel his breath.

"Are you & Tess together?" You felt like a broken record.

"You already asked that," Joel chuckled, pulling more of the blanket on top of him.

"Well, Tess said you were together."

"I guess, together in the sense that we came here together (This himbo lmao), but we aren't dating."

"Oh, she seemed upset when she saw us holding hands."

Joel let out a huff, "Alright, Tess & I... we had a thing. I don't know, but it's over now. It does feel weird trying to flirt with attractive strangers in front of her."

Joel looked up with a small smirk, as if you could become any redder.

"You- Wait, you were flirting with me?"

"Maybe a little," he teased.

"I like you, Joel."

Joel placed wrapped a hand around your waist & pulled you close, "I like you too, Y/N."

Joel looked down at your lips then back to your eyes. You seemed to finally catch on & nodded, bringing another small smile to Joel's face. He closed the gap between you two.

A/N: Not my best work but I'll edit it at some point. I forgot about the Ellie bit but I can make a part two or another one-shot. Tada!

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x male reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #the last of us #tlou #hbo the last of us #bill and frank #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom

877 notes · View notes

lowkeyrobin · 1 month

Note

I have TWO ideas for requests oh ho ho

--foolish x reader (platonic or romantic), dancer!reader teaches foolish how to dance? I got inspired bc he just posted abt being in Texas

--tommyinnit x reader (leaning platonic but can be romantic), reader talks his ear off about how cool Stonehenge is bc of the latest vlog (because let's be real, ancient monumental architecture is insanely cool)

ooooo honestly I would've done the foolish one but I don't know shit about dance 😭🙏 going to tommy on this one LMAO kdkdnsnsns ; also this kinda turned into alien believer/slight conspiracy theorist reader so I'm so sorry LMFAO

TOMMYINNIT ; stonehenge nerd

summary ; you yap his ear off about stonehenge

warnings ; language & conspiracy theories

genre ; fluff

word count ; 445

masterlist

Tommy and a few of his friends - Tubbo, Becky, and Jack - had just come back from a road trip to Stonehenge, something you'd had a little fixation on since the beginning of time. So, when he came back and told you all about it, you instantly went on a rant about it.

He loved the fact you could talk for ages about things you loved, and luckily, he was drained of his social battery and wanted to hear you talk him to a point of relaxation. He sprawls out on the couch, resting his head in your lap, his hoodie used as his source of warmth. You run your fingers through his blonde hair as you rant on and on, entertaining him as he feels a tingling sensation run through his head and spine.

"And the coolest part is like, how did they get there? No human, especially so long ago and with the lack of technology, could've moved those giant rocks like that! I really think it's aliens, because one, who else could've done it, and two, we aren't alone out here! I hate how everyone's convinced that we're the only humanoid species, other than monkies, I guess, out in the universe. This galaxy is like billions of miles of open space, and there's like a trillion planets and microplanets and moons!"

He lightly smiles, comforted and amused by your passion to try and figure out how Stonehenge came to be. You take a deep breathe before you continue, having run out of air in your lungs as you spoke.

"And like, I know they're preserved and stuff, but how the fuck where they able to stand like that on their own for thousands, maybe even millions of years? You'd think a bad thunderstorm would fuck that up, right?"

He nods, burying his face into your stomach area, getting comfortable. You dim the lamp next to you, letting him close his eyes.

"It's just so trippy, like pyramids were a hundred percent humans, these fucking mile high stone cones, but Stonehenge? No, that's fucking aliens."

You look back down, seeing his chest lightly drifting up and down as he breathes. He's now drifted to sleep, his arms lazily draped around your waist.

You lightly smile, seeing he's been calmed by your enthusiastic words as per usual, helping him rest after a long, exciting day.

"G'night, big man"

༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚

"Y/n, I had the weirdest dream last night"

"What about?" You hum.

"You and Joe Biden were driving me back up to Stonehenge to summon the aliens that made it, and we were going to sacrifice Tubbo"

"Oh!"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit oneshot #tommyinnit #mcyt x gn reader

56 notes · View notes

roo-bastmoon · 1 year

Text

The Long Game

First, let's acknowledge some major mismanagement by BigHit. Then, let's talk about what I think *might possibly* be their long game.

These are just guesses I have right now--I'm not stating facts and my opinions are subject to change as new info becomes available. But come with me for a few minutes...

In early 2022, Jimin's mail was "omitted" four times by BigHit employees, which lead to late insurance premium payments, which led to an on-paper "seizure" of his apartment. The press sat on that news for three months until the day his With You OST dropped and the scandal overshadowed his release. Jimin went to ground, avoided all social media for months. At this time, Jimin's personal information was leaked on the internet, and that was the last time we saw Jikook hang out alone that we know of.

Now in 2023, since Jimin's album FACE dropped, we already know about the sabotaged sales and streams by Hanteo, Billboard, YouTube, and Spotify. There was the issue with his in-ears not working properly during an encore. On top of all that drama, BigHit didn't get all the physicals shipped in time, they didn't playlist his songs for several days, they never sent his songs to radio (that we can see), they made one tweet to acknowledge Jimin's #1 on Hot100 but nothing else--not even a cake like the other solo albums got, they didn't let him film more than two music videos when they did that for their new groups, the press releases about their stocks going up after Hot100 also credited their new groups, and Jimin only had 9 days of uninterrupted promo between other members' works.

Now I am not a conspiracy theorist. I well understand that the military enlistment compressed schedules, and that each member had say in their creative works and promotions. I'm not a manti. But none of the above is a good look. Add up all those fumbles together, and you could make a solid case for mismanagement.

And now today, we see PD Bang on the cover of Billboard (which, OF COURSE, mentioned Blackpink in the same breath).

JUST LOOK AT THE WAY THE STORY IS BEING SHAPED FOR AMERICAN READERS. You see what's happening here? You think SM is gonna get a cover story for their side of the corporate shakedown?

And then there's this little gem:

"If your question is about the possibility of creating an artist like BTS again, the answer is no. However, if you were to ask whether there would be a K-pop artist from HYBE that tops the Billboard Hot 100 chart, my answer would be yes. [Jimin became the first BTS member to achieve this as a solo act on April 3 when his single “Like Crazy” debuted at No. 1.] The experience of managing BTS and operating different labels gave us access to powerful networks, infrastructures and experiences. With these, HYBE can repeat its remarkable results with the help of talented artists.

Okay so before everyone starts rioting online, take a moment, pause, reflect, think about what all might be going on here, behind the scenes, in this very political world of the music business.

Do I think Bang PD screwed Jimin over to score points with Billboard? No, I do not. But neither do I think Jimin's solo effort is anyone's priority but Jimin's.

"HYBE is primarily focusing on leveraging its accumulated expertise in managing and producing acts that consist of multiple members, rather than solo artists or mixed-gender groups in K-pop."

I think no one ever expected Jimin to make it to #1 on Hot100 and industry insiders felt pretty sure the West wouldn't let him stay in the top 10 the next week. Why? Well, partially racism. But mostly it's bad for their bottom line.

If your entire business model is that people pay for radio play and that gets them on your private chart and the private chart leads to more advertisers and awards... and then someone comes along and DOESN'T pay to play and gets to the top of your chart? Nobody needs you. So you HAVE to sabotage them. You absolutely have to change your rules. (I'm just sitting here waiting for Jimin to release his other songs so that Billboard can change their rules to say you can't be on Hot100 if your name starts with J- and ends with -imin.)

Now, it might have been satisfying for us as fans to see BigHit come out swinging and put Billboard on blast for his sake and ours. But they have ZERO. LEGAL. RECOURSE.

Billboard is privately owned and they can make whatever rules they want. They are part of a larger media company that has connections to every media outlet; no one is gonna publish an exposé any time soon, I promise you. We got exactly ONE English-speaking website to write about it and that was it. Everyone in the industry knows what is going on, and no one has the power to do anything much about it.

So what does that mean for the future?

Well... Bang PD just recently paid a HUGE mark up of $26 million to buy Trevor Noah's home out in LA.

And now he's on the cover of Billboard. WHY? Neither of these things will result in any immediate payout for him.

It's a long game.

And frankly, a very old and honored way of doing business. It's how they went up against the big three and it's how they are gonna go up against the West, I feel it in my gut.

Bang PD is getting a home on US soil. He will be paying US taxes. He's making in-roads by being nice with Billboard folks. He's making contacts; he's already had phone calls with Pharrell and Bieber and Grande and Laroi. Some of those are already shaping into collabs. We already know Hybe has set up shop in the US with Scooter at the helm.

Meanwhile, BigHit is adjusting in real time to the new rules around the charts (culling is happening to Yoongi too, so they changed up the check-out process of the BTS US Store). Suddenly there's plenty of focus on promoting via TikTok and other viral social media. They are dipping their toe into AI. They are discussing their own in-house ticketing option. This company is looking toward the future and hedging its bets.

Do I know with any certainty what's up their sleeve?

Absolutely not.

Do I trust any corporation very much?

Nope.

Do I have faith in BTS?

Probably more than anything else in my life, at this point.

So while I have no insider info, I just feel like the company is making very intentional and methodic footholds into the West. They are not complaining or screaming or suing or threatening anyone. They are not badmouthing competitors or whining about unfair deals. They are laying ground on complicated, political in-roads, one step at a time.

The Expo is in 2030. I'd wager by that time, BTS will have conquered the West and have some radio play.

And I think the company believes that in order to do that, they have to make their new groups profitable while BTS serves. They have to survive for the next two years.

When BTS is back, and their dues have been paid, I think they will be unstoppable. I hope they get to work on solo projects AND group projects. I think they will take over every corner of the world, if managed properly.

They just need to do it in a way that also assuages the Western music industry. The American Powers That Be have a chokehold on music and they will demand their pound of flesh somehow.

I strongly suspect BTS will never pay to play. But they will build relationships and find a way to become so interwoven in the cultural fabric that to deny them a place in Western spaces is to be left behind. And they will do it politely, and gently, and come out smelling like a rose.

So before you go off on social media and scream the walls down about neglect (and there WAS some, in my opinion) and abuse (we don't really know that), just take a moment to consider--if they had no legal recourse against Billboard, how can they beat them at their own game?

The best way to defeat an enemy is to make them a friend.

I'm just guessing here, but I think if fans stay loyal, BTS just might have the last laugh, here. I think they got radio scared as hell.

It sucks that Jimin didn't get fair treatment at this time. He is my bias and I feel it like a knife to my own heart. But he DID make history with his #1 and they can never take it away.

So I say give it time. All the people sniggering at him and BTS right now are going to sing a different tune in the future.

My best guess is that this is a long game, and it will require sacrifices that are totally unfair, but in the end... well, as long as BTS has ARMY, they cannot be denied.

Apobangpo.

#jimin #bts

286 notes · View notes

silent-sanctum · 11 days

Note

If you can, you do Jotaro x reader where the reader (gender neutral) is a very famous music celebrity and how Jotaro handles the being with someone who is famous with their daughter Jolyne in their life as well. Love your work and hope everything is good with you 🩷

Thank you anon! 💖 Kinda stressing out over paperwork over here but it's all good nonetheless! 🫡 You're request is heard and I hope I did your request justice with this short fic. Hope you enjoy! ♡

My Universe - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 2.2k

One of the perks of having your spouse be a famous global soloist, is having a kid with them and have said child be their number one fan if Jotaro wasn’t already.

Sure, he may not necessarily like all the discography you put out for your fans, but that’s normal for anyone. You did mostly pop with some R&B on the side, and he was more of a jazz man himself. But he did have his personal playlist of favorite tracks he’d listen to time to time on repeat.

But Jolyne was on a different level than he was- she adored you off-screen and on-screen. If you were at home or at least around her, she’d have a field trip being with her idol: She’d get her hands on every merchandise that’s yet to be released, listen to songs yet to be heard, and get special access to VIP areas only meant for artists.

How about the time spend with Jotaro?

Well, aside from musing your daughter with all the perks and love from a celebrity guardian, there were times you left Jolyne with her own bodyguard and babysitter, and used the free time to roam the city with your husband and do whatever they wanted to do.

Initially, your personal life was kept secret from the world, choosing to separate and not involve it with the life of stardom. And that was still the case back when you and Jotaro were still dating. You posted a lot on your social media, mostly pictures of your “selcas”, outfits-of-the-day, food items, behind-the-scenes special from your stages, nature shots, and pictures with fellow celebrity friends.

Once in a blue moon, your fans would blow up social media whenever you decided to be ballsy and post pictures of you with Jotaro, his face hidden thanks to his hat and mask. The content of the image was relatively tame and “neutral”, but given the context behind these pictures- the intimate proximity of the two, the matching color palette clothes, the rare posting of him in general- might as well made your fan base theorists.

“Boyfriend reveal when????”

“Bestie, please share the tea to the world”

“Hello? The couple fits?? The cute poses??? Call me delulu but-”

“All of you are being weirdos. Stop invading their privacy”

“Yeah the dude could be her cousin or brother or something”

“Girl they be dropping these lovey-dovey ass pics and still wonder why we’re this delusional”

“Uhm cousin?? Brother?? With those pictures? Weird but pop-off ig”

You’d receive many posts of similar flavor all over your timelines and you admitted to liking whenever your fans talk about the love of your life as if it’s a conspiracy theory and most of them coming from a supportive mindset. It irked Jotaro for a moment when said community managed to somehow track both his formal account used to document his research findings, and his private social media account where he posted pictures of scenery similar to yours.

But there were the rational handful who were able to veer them off his ass, dismissing their claims as false despite hitting the nail on the spot.

Eventually, once you shifted to a more flexible and lenient agency, you decided to reveal to the world that the popular music icon was engaged and to be married the next week all through a single image of your hand brandishing a ring on your ring finger with a bride emoji as its caption.

“GOOD MORNING???”

“MARRIAGE?!!”

“THEY IS GETTING MARRIED YALL”

“And yall called us crazy for saying they had a boyfriend all this time”

“We boutta get Papa Star amongst us”

The fans and the general public went wild and aside from the obsessive ones, most of your community sent their support.

Despite your relationship now public to everyone, Jotaro still wanted to keep himself mostly anonymous to the news. So whatever images were taken with him in it was blurred out with the default blur effect or an emoji sticker- a “star” one to be specific-covering his face whenever it was shared among fans.

The community erupted with loud awes and cheers when you announced to the world that you were going to have a baby girl in the family in one of your interviews.

“OMG???”

“Alright baby protectors, it’s our time to RISE”

“Much love to the little onee”

“I will defend this child with my life.”

“Shooters for baby girl where yall at?”

“Oh she bout to be the luckiest mfer with all the merch exclusives”

Years later, Jolyne grew up to be her parent’s number one fan, doing exactly what your fanbase had thought of when she’d grow older.

Going back to the present, you found yourself stuck knee-deep in your career doing a sold-out world tour, performing for thousands of cheering people in cities across the world. This wasn’t your first tour and you’ve found a decent routine to follow when doing so, but this year was a first for you.

You expressed both in social media posts and in interviews that burnout began to hit you full-time and a multitude of nagging negativity clouded your head as you kept up with all the schedules, production, and practice sessions for majority of the year. You’ve been so busy that time spent with your family this year was little to none. You constantly shared that hopefully sometime in the middle of promotions, you could return home to your family.

Jolyne felt it watching you through the screen. Jotaro felt it too.

All of them missed you and he wanted to do something about it for once.

By the time September came, your world tour came to a close with one last concert to be done in the Rose Bowl Stadium in California. Both him and Jolyne were never able to attend to any of your concerts due to work and school, but timing was in their favor for once and he made the most of the opportunity.

He got into contact with your manager, someone he became close acquaintances with, and notified of them coming over to watch your show. At first, Jotaro just wanted to be there with your daughter in tow, but the manager and a couple of the crew members in-charge of the set list had different plans.

He agreed to it.

With the VIP tickets secured and their booth ready for them, Jotaro and Jolyne flew across the States with eager anticipation and excitement, the latter mostly radiating off from the little girl.

Eventually, the day of the concert arrived and your daughter couldn’t contain herself from running about, unable to wait any longer for her to watch her other parent sing and dance live for the first time. During the day, rehearsals were done before the show proper and a handful of lucky fans were able to watch it.

Thanks to a streamer fan’s dedication and generosity, Jolyne was able to watch you walk about the stage in cozy casuals interacting with your community through a live stream in her phone. From time to time in the middle of preparing things needed for a concert, Jotaro would tune in as well, happy to see you even if it was from a live feed.

Hours later, he rented a car nearby and drove both of them to the beaming stadium, teemed with cheering crowds of fans falling in line either to enter the venue or to purchase on-site merchandise. On the lampposts and the walls were banners of you welcoming everyone to the event.

To avoid getting mobbed, both father and daughter kept themselves hidden from any passing person with a hat and mask as they walked across the area to the stadium’s entrance. To everyone else, they might as well be an ordinary dad-and-daughter duo who were also fans of their favorite artist.

Jotaro followed the instructions sent to him by your manager and headed off to a more discreet entrance where they didn’t have to worry about any lines or people complaining of why they get to enter first and not them. A guard stationed by waved them inside and led the family into their seats overlooking the brightly lit stage. Before the platform were thousands of light sticks waving in the dark, belonging to the fans singing to songs being played as they waited for you to start.

Beside him, Jolyne sang along with enthusiasm, shaking her own personalized light stick to the beat of the music. He would do the same in an alternate universe, but here it just wasn’t his thing.

After a few minutes, the music faded off into silence and the lights dimmed until the stage cast the whole venue in darkness. The crowds cheered and many miniature lights shook in the night. The speakers suddenly blared a remix of one of your title tracks and the jumbo screens flashed to show a VCR containing a mashup of you in a concept film, introducing your theme as a music artist to your audience.

Then as the dancers brought in the energy with their entrance, the stadium exploded with excited screams as you rose up from the below and walked to the front, passing by your back-up dancers until you stood in front of everyone. A second after you greeted the crowd, you switched demeanor and joined the others in choreography.

Jotaro couldn’t help but smile and clap by the time you finished your introductory performance, contrasted by his daughter’s loud screams. He watched wistfully at you speaking with the audience, sweating from all the dance and singing.

It truly was something different watching you live versus watching a live broadcast from home. You’re so near and yet so far from him.

And so far, the rest of the evening was spent like this with you; the beloved soloist performing many of their hit songs ranging from hard hitting beats with impressive dance routines to soothing ballads that had you simply sitting on a fancy stage prop all dolled-up to match the aesthetic of the songs.

Jolyne never pried her eyes away from her other parent, always focused on you and making sure she sung, danced, and responded to your every questions with the devotion of a true, hardcore fan.

By the time the concert was near its end, you were standing in front of the crowd in a cozy outfit akin to the aesthetics of a person living in a humble cabin in the woods. Supposedly, this segment was supposed to be for when you brought up a box of mixed Q&A and dares for you to do.

However, as you said that you were about to start with the bit, the screens beside you changed from showing an arcade-esque “Break Time with Y/N” to a simple “You have special guests watching you”.

Out of the blue, spotlights turned to Jotaro and Jolyne’s booth and there they were- clear as day on the jumbo screens. Everyone cheered yet again as their way of greeting their favorite artist’s family. And even as Jotaro froze on spot, tipping his hat over his eyes as he offered a small wave, his little girl beamed and waved her light stick at the camera.

“I’m here! Hello!”

Jotaro, from what he could see from under his hat, fixed his gaze on the other jumbo screen where it showed your reaction to the surprise- you were crouched on stage, one hand waving at your child, while the other covered your mouth as he saw tears well up in your eyes.

You didn’t expect them to be at your closing concert but seeing your family present was enough for you to break character and fixate on the loves of your life. “Ah really, you guys…”

In response to your happy tears, the crowd cried out a nearly-synchronized “don’t cry!” prompting you to let out a wet chuckle and sniffle.

It occurred to him that he could do something while the cameras were on them. He reached for his phone from his coat pockets and with a few taps, he showed the screen to everyone- a mobile digital message with the words scrolling across the black screen in neon yellow:

Congratulations on your successful world tour. We love you <3

“Ah! You’re gonna make me cry again!” You said, whining as you swiped your eyes free from the new batch of tears ready to fall. He chuckled back. “Everyone, that’s my husband and baby girl. I love them and the fact that they’re here makes me the happiest person right now.” The crowd cooed.

“Now that they’re here, I’m all the more charged up to perform for everyone!” You said and the stadium cheered in response. With one more long look at your family watching from their booth, you continued. “Hope you all enjoy the rest of this night as much as I am enjoying right now.”

With Jolyne’s suggestion via a whisper, Jotaro turned to his phone and changed the message one more time before the camera diverted away from them. This the message scrolled by in neon green saying:

Let’s celebrate! Let’s eat out later! Our daughter is starving.

Your fans expressed a mix of laughter and wholesome “aw’s”. In turn, you smiled and with both hands grasping your microphone, you replied back to them with a curt yet loving, “Of course. My treat.”

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jotaro kujo #jolyne cujoh

36 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 1 year

Note

You know i love dino but i also really really love boo seungkwan so how about a morning coffee/brunch date with kwannie 🫶🏼

Pairing: gn!reader x seungkwan

Genre: fluff

word count:2.5k

tags: brunch date, blind dates, book stores, sunset

Summary: Blind dates aren’t really your jam so you didn’t expect to enjoy this one so much.

No description, no name, no age, absolutely nothing. You were walking into the face of danger. Well, maybe not danger per say, but a blind date with no context and absolutely no point of reference to who your date would be. All your friend that set you up said that it was a total surprise and that he is a total hottie, completely your type.

Your eyes watch over the tons of people in crowded brunch places, already told that your date was waiting for you inside. Your friend texted ahead of time that he’d be early, hoping to make the situation a tiny bit easier for you. It did not.

Luck struck when your eyes land on someone you would define as a ‘hottie’ and met his round eyes before seeing him timidly smiling at you in the midst of the noise. He put up his hand and waves, to which you do right back. You stare at him for a minute before realizing he’s urging you to take a seat, quickly following through. “Sorry, you’ve probably been waiting a hot minute.”

“Not at all, glad you could make it.”

“They literally didn’t tell me anything, just that I would know and here you are.” You playfully present.

“And here you are! Wow, I was told you were gorgeous, she was not kidding.”

His words already had you flustering, knowing you had those exact thoughts about him in your head. You cup your cheeks in embarrassment before immediately changing the topic. “Thank you, um, have you ordered yet?”

He shakes his head, “Just some water for now. Didn’t want to get my food before yours. They have a special, or you can get the surf and turf brunch item, gosh so many options, and mimosas! Hopefully bottomless, but ha, probably shouldn’t be drunk on a first date—oh my god, my head is all over the place. I’m Seungkwan, by the way.”

Gosh, he was way cuter than you anticipated.

“Thank you for reminding me, I definitely would’ve forgotten to ask. I’m Y/n.” You put your hand out for a handshake, which he accepts, firming grasping in a hearty friendly shake.

“I’m saying this more for myself than you, but let's relax. No formalities. I’m not really sure of blind date etiquette, to be honest.”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh a breath of relief, “Me too, I had no idea what to expect, but I’m starving, so don’t mind me while I scarf down a whole brunch special.”

“I am glad you said that because I will have no reason not to scarf down mine.” He put his hands up and caught the attention of the waiter tending to him before. “Hi, we’re ready to get some drinks—wait are you? Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“Oh no, you're on the money. I’m ready.”

You get your orders in, along with Seungkwan and it doesn't take long to get back into the flow of things. You wish that friend told you he was a conversationalist, you were initially worried you’d be doing all the heavy lifting. It made you wonder what was wrong with him that he was still single. He was super attractive, entertaining, and fit; a total catch. What was his deal?

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but, what’s wrong with you?”

He bursts into laughter, your crass language taking him by surprise, finding it refreshing and even delightful. “What’s wrong with me? What did I do?”

“You’re just…I don’t know, perfect? Why did you accept going on a blind date? I feel like you’re perfectly capable of finding someone.”

He nods in comprehension, seeing where you went with pretty much insulting him within the half hour of talking. “Ah-ha, you say that, but I’ve hardly even made plans after a second, heck even a first date.”

“So, what is it? Dog hater? Conspiracy theorist? Or the worst of all…you’re a ‘movies over books’ guy.”

“Okay, okay. One, no. Two, I don’t even know what that would entail. Three, movies are better, okay?”

“Your flaws are unraveling right now. You’re on my watchlist,” You joke–notice the pun–in a feign serious tone, narrowing your eyes as he lightheartedly rolls his. “Okay, then what is it?”

He shrugs, unsure himself. He would ask himself that every day, and he’s sure–he hopes–he’s following every rule of not being an asshole with potential partners, but something always still missing. “I don’t know, I’ve just been told I’m not really…boyfriend material. They all end up wanting to be friends with me and nothing more. I don’t really get what I’m doing wrong if I’m being honest.”

You hum in ponder, elbow propped with a curved hand to your cheek. “That’s kind of hard to depict. So, you’re either the nicest guy on the planet or the worst guy possible.”

“Why?”

His sincerely hurt tone lets you know he’s assumed the latter, now making you both linger on the significance words ‘the worst’ like it was poetry poorly crafted in a beginner's workshop. Seungkwan at the moment is trying to figure out the trials and tribulations of adult dating, whereas you wondered why he was already pondering on the negative conclusion.

“Well, to say the furthest you’ve made it is only at the end of the second date can be a red flag in itself, but you have yet called yourself a ‘nice guy’, which means it’s more likely than not you are actually a nice guy. And that’s maybe the issue. You’re not setting off romantic vibes, hell, you even said we should drop the formalities.”

He shot his eyes and finger at you, accusatory, “Which you agreed to!”

“And accepting that too quickly was your first wrong step in the wrong direction.” You retort smugly. “Dating is like a soccer field, Seungkwan. You make the right moves, you score a goal.”

“...I do like soccer and scoring goals.”

“Well, so far you’re kicking the ball directly at the goalie’s feet instead of strategically making it to the net.”

“Alright then,” his elbows are parallel to each other as the interlock of his fingers holds up his face in amused anticipation, “What do you suggest I can do better?”

You stretch your lips out in a wide grin, already listing out the unorthodox first date activities you can teach him, but decides to spare him. Before you get started, you made made sure to finish your meals, leaving a decent tip when the bill arrived. You drag him out of the brunch place with a hand wrapped around his slim wrist and towards the direction of a bookstore, you knew is not too far from here.

“Books…” he whines, “I’m eating my movies over books comment, aren’t I? You’re going to force me to read?”

“Tip numero uno: try doing things that your date might enjoy. There is so much magic in reading,” You run a finger through a shelf you know all too well and hand him the hardcover, “Here, go nuts.”

He playfully grimaces, observing the foreign object you’ve put in his hands, feeling the indentation of its engravings and subtle, yet stimulating, cover art it had to offer; in the midst a black, shots of red, purple, and yellow all over. It was, admittedly, beautiful, but wasn’t the saying always ‘don’t judge a book by its cover.’

“I don’t get it.”

“Just read. I’ll pick up one myself and we’ll share a spot in a corner with intimate lighting and little space.” You wink at him, grinning.

He can’t help but grin back, “Alright. Lead the way.”

You sit in the silence of each other in close space as you promise, scanning the jumbles and combinations of letters that would stare back at you. Although your selection was a mildly good read, you were curious about Seungkwan’s journey as you peek up from the covers and see him enthralled with the content (a good change from the yawning he was exhibiting earlier).

“How is it,” you whisper.

He barely catches your words in his immersion and looks up confused, clearing his throat as you blink back at him with a goofy grin on your face. He tries not to let the corner of his lips twitch, but fails. “Slow beginning, some alright pacing, have to admit.”

You nod, pretending to take notes, “Something worth finishing?”

“...Be honest, you brought me here so I would shut up, didn’t you?”

You snort, covering your face with your book. “Maybe you’d be cuter if you were quiet,” you answer, not denying it.

“That is so mean of you to say—you’re lucky I enjoy your company.”

As you enjoy his. Fortunately for both of you, you finished your books (thank goodness for fast reading and short books) and you both leave the store, surprisingly content with what has come out of it. You can tell he enjoys it, even if he denies it and triumphantly says movies are always better. There are smiles on both your faces, hands lingering at each other's side. For a somewhat quiet afternoon, it felt like I’d be memorable, at least for a first blind date.

“Look, the sun's setting,” you point out.

The air felt warm and alive, you’d think it’d have a mind of its own. This lights up a figurative bulb in Seungkwan’s brain, now having him be the one to tug to a place of unknown, and for some reason, you were okay with that, and rightfully so. You stumble upon a park together, luscious green grass with tall fibrous green trees to match. It was a sign spring was finally here to embrace and enjoy. His hand now interlocked with yours, leads you to an empty park bench, hitting in direct line with the descending star in the sky, sharing a sigh as the colors shift gradually before your eyes.

For the first time in some time, you felt your heart tingle and were unsure whether it was the painting-eque scene before you, the soothing buzz of insects including the appearance of crickets coming out of hiding, or how Seungkwan’s thumb brushes against the back of your hand like it belongs there. Your once normal temperature hand felt warm in his, even comforting despite him being a stranger still, but something about it makes it ok. Seungkwan makes it okay.

“I haven’t watched the sun set like this in so long,” He admits.

“Why’s that?”

He looks down at his lap, a smile on his face. “Something I used to do back when I had free time, or when I needed time to think. I don’t really get that these days.”

“I can say the same.”

There’s an unspoken message you both share. Somewhere in the past that made a reason to stop moments like this. You both had the respect not to pry. The silence spoke for itself, a comfortable kind of silence, the kind that even Seungkwan found himself enjoying.

“I had a really nice day with you.”

You’ve both reached the footsteps of your front steps to your building, lacking the desire to end the day. Your hand feels like it’s fused into his and now you’re worried about how cold it’d be without him. Despite your remorseful mood, you hum, letting him know the feelings were mutual.

In his eyes, you sense hesitancy, feeling the disheartening sensation as he plucks his fingers away from you, and sighs in disbelief. The day just had to be over. He locks with your gaze, holding onto it as if he never would again. Just as you wave your hand at bidding him an amicable goodbye, he calls out your name to make you stop. You turn to him slowly, almost expecting—no hoping—it’s exactly what you think he’s going to ask you.

“Can I…kiss you?”

His tone resembles that of a timid schoolboy: a light dusting of red on his cheeks and ears, his eyes shifting back and forth, and his lips quivering before even forming those words. You lightly giggle, walking back towards him, standing close enough to him you can still smell the syrup breath from the brunch you had together, reminding you really needed to fix something for yourself when you get inside.

“Depends, is that something you ask on all your first dates?”

He shakes his head apologetically in defense. “N-not at all, I just thought, we had this moment—or I guess a lot of them, I don't know, maybe just me—that I wanted to do it but felt awkward to ask, but now I’m asking anyway which kind of proves me right—mmp.”

Your lips meet his mid-speech, lucky for you since the curve of your lips fit perfectly through the gap of his, close your eyes, and sigh in bliss when you feel how lush and soft they feel. Seungkwan pauses for a moment, for the first time glad he’s being interrupted, and reciprocates with heavy lids, savoring the felt and taste. It’s chaste and magical and even peaceful, something you could only read in books or watch in movies or experience after having starved yourself all day waiting for the morning to come so you can have breakfast. His hand finds your shoulder, steadying himself against it, but pulling you closer, the heat of the kiss making him momentarily lose all of his remaining senses. It leaves him wanting more, more than what first fate normally could offer, and he begs himself to keep it together.

When you part, it’s like a ghost of his lips is still there and you smile. “You talk so much.”

“Sorry.”

You shake your head, grinning harder than ever. “It’s cute.”

His eyes finally shoot open and he drops his jaw in realization. “Your number! Oh my god, I was going to ask before you were going to leave—I mean if you wanted to give—“

“Sure,” you pull out your device from your pocket and are met with several missed calls and messages, ones that had you shocked, almost erupting with boisterous laughter. “Oh, my god.”

“What? You changed your mind didn’t you?”

You shake your head again, showing him your phone.

Jihyo: where are you

Jihyo: don’t you ignore me

Jihyo: you did not just ditch my guy

Jihyo: you better have a good explanation on why you left a perfectly good date waiting around for you and didn’t have AT LEAST the decency to give me a heads up

Jihyo: OMG ARE YOU ACTUALLY KIDNAPPED, IM GONNA KILL YOU IF YOU'RE ACTUALLY KIDNAPPED

Seungkwan sees what you mean and laughs with you, now has the urge to pick up his phone and see a similar flurry of messages from his friend. You match in an expression of disbelief, finding this situation serendipitous, and although remorseful of having left out their real dates, they were not regretful of having met each other. It makes this encounter a lot more special knowing it wasn’t meant to happen yet the universe made it out to be that way. You both hope this time it’ll last.

#svthub #seungkwan fluff #boo seungkwan fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen #seungkwan #seventeen seungkwan #boo seungkwan #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader

163 notes · View notes

thenightfolknetwork · 5 months

Note

Hello,

So I was turned by accident about a decade ago. I struggled. I won't lie, several people disappeared because of me before I understood what was happening and was able to ask for help. I stayed in self-exile from people I could hurt for a long time, only making contact by phone with my loved ones for over five years. A little extreme, I know, but it was the option I was most comfortable with and most of them understood. I got through it, re-entered society and now have a near-complete grip on my feeding to the point where I can have donors.

When I told my friends, sapio and creature, about this personal milestone they were so, so happy for me. They threw me an amazing party and a couple of them even surprised me by volunteering to be donors themselves. It honestly brought me to tears, I'm so, so lucky to have them.

I gave them links, information packets and ways to stop me should things ever go too far, then we started feeding sessions, and that's where it began.

As it turns out, one of my best sapio friends… Well, it happens that feeding gives her a lot of pleasure. When she discovered this, I asked regularly if she wanted to stop sessions, but she said no. I'm asexual and feeding doesn't do anything for me (probably for the best given my history) but I don't mind, honestly? It actually makes me feel better that she's getting something out of it in exchange, and after some research, the rules and aftercare surrounding kink helped make the whole experience more comfortable for me and my donors.

This has been going on for a good six months, but things between us have started getting… weird.

Her heartbeat pounds every time she sees me. I find her continually glancing down at my lips, even when we meet up outside of feeding. I'll be talking and realise she hasn't said anything for ages, she's just sitting there staring at me with this little smile that I've never seen before.

She touches me any chance she gets too. Don't get me wrong, physical affection is the best, big hugger, me. But while it's not excessive; it is noticeable that she leans on me, puts her head in my lap, and adjusts my outfit when we go out. Small things that we did before because we're friends, just more. A lot more.

She's also become a little… jealous over feeds? For her height and weight, I can only take so much blood before it’ll put her out of commission for more than a couple of days and she knows I have multiple donors - hell, she knows my other donors - but I think it upsets her now in a way it didn't before.

I'm really concerned that it's going to cause a rift of some kind, but I'm also worried that this has been bad for her in some way.

Have I given my friend some sort of Pavlovian response to me due to the nature of our feeds? Or worse, have I somehow put her under some kind of thrall?

I can reassure you with absolute certainty on one front, reader: it is not possible to accidentally enthral a person. People with extremely strong powers of magnetism might find they have unconsciously exerted more influence over those around them than they intended, but never to the degree of full thralldom. In practice, the effect is barely distinguishable from the effect of natural charm.

Indeed, there are plenty of figures in history who have been thought, at one point or another, to be exerting magical influence on those around them, only to prove to be enjoying nothing more than the inherent social benefits of good looks and elegant manners. The claim that Hollywood is full of malevolent nightfolk tricking the humble American everyman with their magical wiles, for example, is a favourite among conspiracy theorists.

I think it's also safe to rule out the possibility of Pavlovian conditioning. Your friend is an intelligent adult, and while she may associate your feeding sessions with general feelings of comfort and pleasure, she is still very much in control of her own behaviours.

I'm afraid the solution seems to me at once far simpler and, in its own way, far more complicated. She's flirting with you.

Your friend already felt close enough to you to volunteer as your donor. She trusts you and enjoys your company. To that, you added the potent mixture of spending time with her in an intensely personal and vulnerable situation, paying her close attention, and performing an act which gives her a great deal of physical, erotic pleasure.

In short, I think it very likely that if your friend does not already consider herself in love with you, she is well on her way. This might be a comfort, in some ways – the worst case scenario here is a broken heart. Painful, perhaps, but not usually life-threatening.

You need to talk to your friend directly. Get this all out into the open, and then work together to find a solution. I understand you're concerned this will create a rift between the two of you. But it is far better to take that risk than to try and sweep these feelings under the carpet and just hope everything will be alright.

And the thing is, everything really might be alright. It might be that nothing needs to change. If you feel comfortable with your friend's romantic feelings, and are able to enjoy her increased physical affection and personal attention, then by all means, enjoy yourself.

However, I want to be extremely clear upon this next point. You do not owe it to her – or to anyone else – to embark upon a romantic relationship. You did not “lead her on”. That kind of thinking is nothing more than social pressure to conform to amatonormative expectations of love, sex and romance.

If you don't want your relationship to take on a romantic dimension, you need to draw that line clearly and firmly, and stick to it.

Finally, if that is how you feel, I would also strongly recommend removing her from your roster of donors. The alternative just feels rather unnecessarily cruel.

#answered #the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies

53 notes · View notes

branmuffins22 · 5 months

Text

THE TIME IS UPON US ONCE AGAIN FOR A MUFFINTOP FIC REC!!!

This fic has been a big favorite of mine ever since it started coming out a few months ago, it scratches an itch I've felt for a long long time in this fandom (and does it maybe a little too well, I get antsy and end up doing a lot of re-reading between updates).

It's got long, juicy chapters; unsettlingly and appropriately dry tone and delivery (I'm pretty sure there's only like 20 exclamation points in the whole fic (as it currently exists), and they're all in the dialogue, not the plain prose); a wonderful amount of time spent with characters who were thrown completely under the bus by canon (while still remaining (feasibly) canon-compliant, btw); some of the most fun original scenarios and characters a fic of its kind could possibly have (just wait 'till you meet the swizzler); and it's centered around everyone's favorite basilisk, Vee!

Honestly, the Ao3 summary doesn't really do it justice:

This is a sister story (pun intended) to The Owl House that follows Vee's adventures in the human realm.

Like, that's it. Simple, straightforward, and succinct, but gosh golly fuck, it sure doesn't sell it, or at least not to anyone but the most wildly obsessed (like me).

As such, I propose my own reader's summary:

Vee has had a hard life. She grew up in a cage. Coerced, studied, tortured, broken, and put back together again for as long as she can remember. As if her life in the cells weren't traumatic enough, her escape was just as much so, and nowhere near as certain. Alone on the run, she seized the first opportunity she found for a permanent solution, but that too proved to have flaws. Vee is not Luz, but she will do anything to secure her freedom, even if she has to be someone else to do it. She'll just have to survive summer camp, conspiracy theorists, and an ongoing barrage of crises, both external and internal. Anything and everything to be safe and free. This is a sister story (pun intended) to The Owl House that follow's Vee's adventures in the human realm.

#Gravesfield by NomDeGary #the owl house #toh #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #fic rec #vee noceda #camila noceda #toh masha #luz noceda #veesha #ohyeah its got some TASTY veesha in there #extremely slow burn #excruciating really #like we're over 100k words in and halfway through and it STILL isn't resolved.#came close a few times tho

26 notes · View notes

deimosphilic · 1 year

Text

HEADCANONS | JAKE SULLY

paring : jake sully x gn!reader

authors note : cute little thing whilst i procrastinate my neytiri series. for dialogue: bold = jake, normal = you. also, italics = na’vi language. lowk suggestive on one hc.

word count : 557

request : yes | no

masterlist

⋆ when he was on earth, he had an obsession with ‘90s films. since he was born like 150 years after, the films probably never actually worked but the snippets he could watch, he LOVED.

⋆ when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about, he talks SO FAST. like not even a little fast, so fast that only certain people, (you), can understand him.

⋆ he’s deathly allergic to strawberries. he smells that shit and he’s dropping dead.

⋆ he loves patterns. you’ll will usually catch him just tracing your stripes.

⋆ he used to have a goldfish called joe. before it died because he forgot to feed it.

⋆ he has a genuine fear of ladybugs.

⋆ he can’t pronounce squirrel properly. no matter how much anyone teaches him, he’s always back to “screwel”.

⋆ he LOVES physical touch. like, no matter what, he’s always touching you in some way. whether that be on your waist, whilst exploring the forest. or, too close to where you want him whenever you’re doing something important.

⋆ his lucky number is 47.

⋆ his first tattoo was a knife, and skull. he eventually got it removed because he was embarrassed of it.

⋆ he gets embarrassed SO EASILY. but he’s so good at covering it up by being very cocky. you literally could never tell he’s embarrassed.

⋆ he HATES the colour green, and living in the forest enhances that. everyday he’ll manage to complain to you. either about the green vine he had to climb, or the green leaf he had to eat off of. he’s the biggest green hater.

⋆ he absolutely adores helping you design stuff for your loincloths you make yourself. whether he asks you to weave his initials into it or he’ll pick out ‘cool rocks’ (as he says), and ask you to put them on your waistband.

⋆ even though he’s terrible at it, he loves doing your hair. he’ll make you sit down in front of him, and guide him through the whole process. you end up having to take down the braids because of how bad they are. at least he tried his best, right?

⋆ he amazing at pointing out small details. he could point something, that you do subconsciously, out. you’d be shocked than he knows more about you than you know about yourself, per say.

⋆ thinks it’s hilarious to tell you that an insult in english means something nice in na’vi. especially since you didn’t attend grace’s school.

⋆ “you cocksucker.” “what does that mean?” “it means that your hair looks nice.”

⋆ very paranoid when it comes to eating something with bones in it. he’ll spend an hour picking out every single little bone if that’s what it takes.

⋆ hates dancing unless he’s drunk. as soon as there’s alcohol in his system he’s up, and boogieing.

⋆ claims he hates the gossip you bring him in the middle of the night, but the minute you stop talking he will force you to continue.

⋆ “and she kissed his friend-” *cue the longest pause* “why’d you stop?” “because you weren’t even listening.” “of course i was. now continue… please.”

⋆ is a conspiracy theorist. he could go on, and on for hours about every single conspiracy he has. AND YOU EAT IT UP EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

138 notes · View notes

hyunnows · 4 months

Text

WHO YOU GONNA CALL? | TAPE #2

A series of tapes describing Namjoon's life since joining the Supernatural Investigation Unit.

PAIRING(S) | Namjoon x reader

THEMES | cop!au, x-files!au, ghostbusters!au, cop!Namjoon, cop!reader, youtuber!Seokjin, youtuber!Taehyung, ghosts, conspiracies, cryptids, the paranormal, and the supernatural are main subjects

WORD COUNT |

RATING | pg

NOTE | it has been awhile since i posted the previous part--but I genuinely forgot lmao. however, I have a new part for you all now!! (it was already written i just needed to post it forgive me). i hope you all enjoy and have a great day/night <3

Series M.list | Navigation | Taglist

The camera zooms into Namjoon's face, and the interviewer gives him the okay to begin talking. “I wasn’t excited for my first day in the X-Files, to be honest.”

“The X-Files, the damn X-Files,” Namjoon mutters to himself, reclipping his tie to his shirt–he wasn’t a real detective yet, he didn’t need to look like one yet either.

He takes slow, dragging steps towards the door in the corner of the precinct. He dreads opening the door, his distaste increasing when he hears the loud shuffling of papers and quiet rock music, barely making it past the door. Fuck it.

He swings the door open to be met with complete and utter chaos. The office is far past disorganized. There are files everywhere, tapes, cameras, and photographs all placed haphazardly across both wooden desks. He cringes when he notices the boxes filled with the same materials stacked all around the room. Not to mention the overflowing drawers with papers practically falling out of them.

The sound of papers being tugged out of a drawer catches his attention, the cacophony leading him to see a figure slumped over a file cabinet, sipping hot chocolate from a ‘repurposed’ ramen styrofoam cup. Awkwardly, he clears his throat. “Hello?”

You snap to look at him, a distressed-looking uniform hanging from your figure. Swallowing the coco in your mouth, you greet him excitedly, “Oh, hi there. You must be Namjoon, right? My new partner?”

Not for long, he thinks to himself, before nodding. “That would be me. You’re [Y/N], right?”

“Yes, I am. Are you excited to be in the SIU?”

“Not really, I’m sort of a skeptic, to be honest. Ghosts and cryptids and all that aren’t really my thing, I prefer science,” Namjoon says, eyes wandering the towers of paperwork.

You scrunch your face at the slight bit of arrogance in his tone but shrug it off. “Oh, can’t relate. Personally, I’m a believer. You spend a while here and you might become one as well.”

“We didn’t agree on anything at first. At all. She’s like, textbook conspiracy theorist, believes in bigfoot and all that.” Namjoon laughs a bit as he remembers his first days working in the SIU. “I didn’t believe in any of it. We were constantly having debates about everything supernatural or paranormal or whatever. The point is we couldn’t agree.”

“Oh, come on, not even aliens?”

“I think they could be out there, I don’t think we’ve interacted with them or come close to interacting with them. I think we would know if we’ve made contact with E.T.s.,” he shrugs, ignoring how your jaw drops as he looks over a cold case. That is a log, not a river monster in the Han River…

“We work in the government pretty much, there’s no way you don’t know about cover-ups. Heck, day-to-day crimes get swept under the rug and disguised all the time for the sake of reputation. Why wouldn’t any time we’ve made contact with aliens be hidden from the public too?” You can’t seem to stress this enough, eyes wide in surprise at just how set in his beliefs Namjoon sees to be. “Heck, I saw Chief Yoon writing that he left to check out a case the other day–he was eating barbecue for two hours!”

Namjoon lifts one of his arms from his folded position, his shoulders moving with every word he speaks. “I mean, sometimes her theories made sense, y’know? But still, I just wasn’t into the whole ghost thing anymore. I was trying to prove that we didn’t need a unit dedicated to the supernatural.”

The interviewer lifts his hand to pause Namjoon, impatience dripping from his voice. “Apologies, but are you going to get to one of your investigations any time soon?”

“Actually, yes.”

“What are you looking at?”

You tilt the file towards him so that he can read it. It's the first case you two have been assigned together to investigate–well, the first non-cold case. “Choi Mansion? That museum with all the spooky gimmicks?”

“Yeah, there was an accident there a few days ago. The owner, Min Yoongi, says there’s something real going on in there, not his little tricks for the audience.” You explain, “The housekeeper is also complaining about some weird smells or something.”

“This sounds like a publicity stunt to me. Mansion that constantly gets customers by pretending to be haunted wants to be investigated for actually being haunted? Yeah, that’s believable,” Namjoon rolls his eyes in disbelief that this is the turn his career has taken.

“Alright, let’s go check it out, Negative Nancy.”

“We get to the place, and guess who’s there already? The Ghost Busters, Jin and Taehyung, covered in gear and these ridiculous suits,” he chuckles, once again waving to his attire. “I guess the guy called them too, but they had been at it for an hour or so by the time we joined the party.”

“No way, is this one of your cases?” Jin grins before directing his attention to you. “Is this your partner? Hi, I’m Seokjin and this is Taehyung.”

“Obviously, the three of them got along wonderfully. Three nutjobs who all fed into whatever crazy ideas the others had. It was actually kind of sweet watching them all get excited together.”

“Hi, I’m [Y/N], and I am his partner. You guys are really decked out in equipment, aren’t you?” They nod. “Nice, mind if we work together for this one?”

They are beyond ecstatic to work with you, agreeing immediately while singing your praises to Namjoon. Much to his dismay.

He pulls you aside, whispering, “Are you even allowed to share this information with them? What if we get in trouble?”

You shrug, “It's just you and I in this department, who’s going to tell on us?”

“And that was awkward because I was thinking, ‘Me, I’m going to tell on you’. I didn’t because it would be a hassle to submit that report, but I was thinking about it at the time.”

“Mr. Kim, please stay on track.”

“Right. So they set up their cameras and stuff…”

“And… Choi Mansion, take one!” Taehyung yells, his excitement evident in his voice.

Hearing a quiet whirring, Namjoon turns his head from the youngest musketeer, eyebrows quirking at the odd machine in Seokjin’s hands. It looked like an old remote with a colorful whisk made of glow sticks attached to its side. In all honesty, Namjoon thought it appeared overly cheap.

He points to the device, “What's that?”

Scoffing obnoxiously, Seokjin waves it at the officer, “Mr. Fancy Pants doesn’t know what a PKE meter is.” his voice both playfully teasing and mocking Namjoon's status. “And before you ask, yes, it works. Why would I buy a PKE meter that didn’t work?”

How Namjoon wanted this investigation to be over.

Planning the camera around the room once, then back to Namjoon, Taehyung clears his throat, his voice becoming serious, “So, tell me, where did you get the oldest glasses in the world?”

“They’re only five years old, I’ve just broken them a lot and fixed them the DIY way,” Namjoon sighs, not really up for the overly playful attitude the younger man seemed to exude.

Meanwhile, Seokjin tugs at the door, using most of his strength to pry it open, but to no avail. Kicking it a few times and once again pulling at it, he groans as it refuses to open. Wiping his sweat, he plants his hands on his hips, “Someone really doesn’t want us going in there…” eyeing the door suspiciously.

Dismissing Jin’s findings, the youngest continues his interview, brows furrowed in interest and lips pursed, “And how is it to wear this uncomfortable suit all day?”

“Not too fun…” Joon mutters, pointing to Jin, “How about we focus on recording the important stuff?” He is eager for the ‘mechanical genius’ to leave him alone. Besides, he is not enjoying how you seem to cover your mouth to hide your snickers whenever Taehyung cracks a joke at his expense.

Disappointed, Taehyung focuses the camera on the door momentarily before following Jin to the grand piano in the sitting room. The mansion, although terrifying and old, was beautiful. The wall carvings and vintage furniture were something that made the place feel like home, despite the occasional cobweb. It would be a beautiful, warm home if it weren’t for its cold feeling and lack of light which did more than give the men the shivers.

“For the most part, I couldn’t take anything seriously. A haunted mansion? Evidence of ghosts? It all seemed too good to be true, y’know? Plus, Taehyung wasn’t exactly professional in the slightest.”

The investigator nods, his gaze still cold as ever. “Did anything worth my time happen during the investigation? Or are you just telling a story about nothing?”

“If you would give me a moment,” Namjoon huffs before continuing. “As I was about to say, that's when it started getting creepy.”

Series M.list | Navigation | Taglist

18 notes · View notes

piss-pumpkin · 1 year

Text

Reflections (2) (Hunter/Golden Guard x reader)

Part 2 :0

Shorter and fluffy sequel to the other one,, much more banter driven

~a world in which one can see their soulmate in the mirror~

It was a strange life, you found yourself living. You, a criminal, involved with him, the face of the law. Naturally, the smart thing to do was commit even more crimes, just to get his attention when you needed it.

And so, the handcuffs were heavy on your wrists as the scouts walked you to the station. You could escape, yes, but what fun was that? This way you got to see your lovely soulmate and teach him the joys of breaking the law.

The scout, towering over you, pushed you into a cell, startling you away from your train of thought. You stumbled, barely catching your feet as you paced deeper into the cell.

“That was rather rude, sir,” you said, looking back at him as he locked the door. You leaned against the far wall away from him, and glanced down into a murky puddle that filled a dip in the cells floor. In its reflection you saw his face. You couldn’t help smiling as you did.

“Wild witch,” he replied simply, monotone. “You’ll be interrogated shortly for information about the owl lady.”

You snickered, “hey I ain’t no snitch, who do you take me for?” You started to approach again, wanting desperately to get in this guys face and intimidate him. He scoffed and turned away as you tried.

”I wouldn’t say that, it’ll be the Golden guard questioning you, the right hand man of the emperor,” he said. “I would choose your words carefully when speaking with him, I’m sure he’s far less kind then I am.” With that, the final word, he left before you could retort, leaving you alone in the dank and dark jailhouse. This one wasn’t empty though.

Looking around you as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, your gaze fell on a small creature in the cell across from yours. A little white demon with a large nose, and red hair. Not the oddest thing you’d seen, but a strange looking one none the less. You nodded you head towards her, “So what are you in for?”

She sighed, “The scouts don’t like I see through the veil of our society and know about the secret overlords in control of our blood.”

You nodded along, “Coooool.” With that remark, you decided to stop talking to the little conspiracy theorist.

It wasn’t long before he came to save you from the awkward silence, though. He entered with regality and prestige, brining light into the room that burnt your eyes at first glance. His golden mask obscured his face to all but you, who could see the shimmers of his real expression in the shine. You smirked as he came in and spotted you.

He pointed his staff in a manner that would have been managing to anyone else. “You,” he said, echoing though the room with power. A guard came to unlock your cell, and the small nose creature looked at you as if you were on death row. You shot her a smile as the scout escorted you to the golden guards side.

You trailed behind the golden flowing cape, and in front of the scouts tall shadow. You couldn’t keep yourself from smiling at the ground, watching your feet to avoid looking at your captors.

Near the jail room was a door, which the golden guard stopped in front of. With a golden key, he unlocked it. Without turning back to face you or his assistant, he spoke. “Your dismissed, scout,” he said, with coke indifference. You snickered as he led you inside, and locked the door behind you.

In the room was simply a table and chairs, on on one side, two on the other. You sat on the side with two.

The golden guard turned away from the door, and stared at you for a moment before taking off the mask and hood to reveal a tired expression. His mouth was in a slight sneer, and his brow was furrowed. “Come on, seriously?”

You leaned back in the chair, and swung your feet into the table. “What?” You asked, smirking.

The golden guard grumbled, and stormed over to you, taking the seat next to you. “You know what, you-“ he cut himself off, and took a breath, running his fingers through his hair. “What did you even do this time?”

You snickered, and once again shifted your legs so your feet were resting on his lap. “A scout was harassing a lady, I just stepped in,” you laughed. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything bad.”

“I was told you assaulted the scout,” Hunter said flatly.

“Well you know these guys, they’ll lie about anything,” you scoffed. “I totally did do that, but it was justified!” You crossed your arms, and looked away from him for emphasis.

Hunter rubbed the specs between his eyes as he held his head in his hand. “You are so lucky you have me to cover for you.”

You smiled and spun your head back to look at him, “I’m so lucky I have you, period, m’love!” You leaned forward and rested your elbows on your legs, shortening the distance between you to better see his blush.

Hunter tried to look away and cross his arms, but couldn’t do either. This resulted in his eye darting back and forth between you and the ground, and him fidgeting with his hands at his chest. “Y-you too,” he sputtered.

You laughed, “Chill out, man.” His hands were still stuttering on their own at his chest. You took them in your to steady him, “It’s just me.”

He sighed, and thumbed over your hand gently. “Yeah, just you.” He learned forward, hunching to rest his forehead on yours, and taking the back of your neck in one hand, and the other entwined with yours. “Is it bad I’m kind of glad you’re a criminal? I think if you were anything else I wouldn’t ever get to see you.”

”You could see me a lot more if you turned to a life of crime yourself,” you suggested, almost smugly. As you heard him hum lowly in disapproval, you laughed. “I get it. You’re way to busy. It’s insane that you’re my age and have an eighty hour work week.”

Hunter cracked a smile, “yeah, I have no idea how you sleep in past six a.m.” He pulled his head back to look at you, eyes tired.

“You are speaking a different language, buddy,” you shook you head. “Also that’s bad for your health, when do you even go to bed?”

He pursed his lips, “I don’t think that matters.”

”Dude,” you said, lacking words. “That’s so false.”

Hunter shook his head, sighing. He leaned back on his chair, and hesitantly put his hands on your legs, which were still rested on his. Taking a deep breath, he sighed again, shooting you an annoyed look, “You know?”

You snickered, “Oh I know.” Hunter opened his mouth, presumably to complain again, but you stopped him. “Are you gonna break me out of jail yet, or what?” you smiled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter said, standing up. He pushed his chair in beneath the table. “Stay here a moment while I talk to the guards.”

You nodded, and kicked your feet into the table for a few minutes.

When Hunter returned, it was in the mark and cloak again. “I told them you had nothing useful to say, that you were just a low level crook, and an idiot.”

”Wow, I can tell how much you like me,” you said, rolling your eyes. You pushed off the chair and started to the door with him, “Come on, let’s go… and when we’re outside,” you point at his face a moment, “lose the mask, yeah?”

…

You walked through the town, reveling in the street market stalls and night lights lining the sidewalks and hanging by the buildings across the path. The warm yellow light shines in Hunters face, bringing out his eyes, and his scars.

“It’s weird walking around without the mask,” Hunter muttered, clutching your hand.

“At least nobody knows you this way,” you said, glancing around, taking in the lack of attention the two of you were getting. “You probably aren’t just, a normal witch very often, are you?”

”Never, actually,” he said, looking around, drinking in the scenery like he was a child, and had never kid eyes in such wonders. “It’s… kinda nice.”

You elbowed him playfully, an awkward motion considering you were holding his hand. “See, you just gotta get out more. Use your vacation days, man.”

”We don’t get a lot of those,” he added quickly. He took a breath, about to speak, but you didn’t notice in time, and cut him off before he could.

“Oh Titan, you have to try these!” You exclaimed, pointing at a street vendor beside you. You bounced over the the counter, and looked down at the product. Spiced, sauced, and skewered mystery meat, slow cooked with flame magic to perfection.

Hunter looked over curiously, raising an eyebrow, “it smells good, but…”

You looked over at him while you payed the vendor, and took two servings. “But what?”

Hunters face scrunched up in disgust for a moment while he spoke. “It’s quite literally sold as mystery meat, that’s not even legal.”

You snickered, “Well you wouldn’t care about that, you aren’t the golden guard right now, yeah? You’re Hunter.”

He placed his hand on his chest, and gasped, “Hunter can care about the law!”

“Hunter is on a date with a criminal, whom he wrongful freed while trying to interrogate.” You handed him his skewer, the sauce dripping down the handle of it. “Give it a taste.”

Hunter took the skewer, albeit begrudgingly. He gave he meat a small sniff at first, then eyes it carefully.

“Dude, what are you even doing?”

He grimaced, and threw his hand in the air as he spoke, “I don’t know!”

“Dude just eat it,” you said, squinting at him. You weren’t immune to him though, and gave your own portion a good sniff before biting into it. “It’s-“ you tried to speak, but your mouth was full.

“Fine…” he grumbled. “This guys lucky you’re here,” he mumbled, looking back at the vendor. “I could totally arrest him…” He took the smallest of bites with his front teeth. As he chewed what little he had, his features softened.”

”Well?” You asked, smirking.

“Oh shut up,” he said, taking another, more sure bite. “Also thank you,” he said.

”Seeee?”

Hunter waved his hand in dismissal as he ate. “Yeah, yeah, I’m team-” he shook his head, “-team mystery meat.”

You smiled, “good.” Before he could get another bite in, you hastily tapped your mystery meat against his. “Clink,” you chirped, “cheers.”

He rolled his eyes, “Cheers, I guess.”

There was a simple joy to being a crook and a witch, a joy you were determined to shove in Hunters face, little by little. The golden guard Hunter was lucky to have wild witch you as a soulmate.

”Hey next time we go out, you should try stealing.”

”Titan, you have to stop,” he laughed.

[Lmao i finished this a while ago just forgot to post it here oops anyway]

#hunter toh x reader #hunter my beloved #hunter x reader #toh hunter #toh #the owl house x reader #golden guard #golden guard x reader #the golden guard #the owl house

65 notes · View notes