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skylarsblue · 1 year

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Could you write Lester Sinclair a secret (at first) lover who is a man? They live outside of Ambrose and are just as or even more eccentric than Lester. They are also more athletically built and a good bit taller. 💕 If this is too specific just let me know!

✦Lester Sinclair W/ Male!S/O✦

*slamming hands on desk* I LOVE GAY SHIT ✦AMAB!Reader that uses He/Him pronouns, implied to be 6'0+ & muscular, also kinda southern, warning for some suggestive stuff, also for time-period appropriate homophobia✦

I firmly believe Lester is pansexual with no preference. He's just into people, though of course, he doesn't know much about labels. He's not in the loop of society much, and he grew up in a small southern town. He knows straight, gay, and "straight until you have a beer", essentially.

Lester never had the understanding of why being gay would be an issue. Even when he'd hear people whisper about it. He's probably asked his brothers before, which was hard to explain to Lester. Bo didn't really try and Vincent struggled to find the right words.

Lester probably had to have it explained in the simplest of terms. "Ain't nothin' wrong wit' bein' gay or bein' straight. But people gonna talk if you swing one way, cause people are assholes. That's how it is." That's what Bo said. Vincent took a little more care, writing it all out so he wouldn't be hindered by limited sign language.

"People hate what they don't understand. If they can't relate, most of the time, they won't have empathy. Those people are cruel. Their opinion means nothing, even if they're a majority sometimes. It doesn't matter where your love comes from, as long as it's genuine." Vincent had a much nicer way with words. But Lester took both explanations to heart.

He never really saw representation either, so it probably took him a long time to realize which way he slid. He knew he definitely liked women, he and Bo had a similar type most of the time. But occasionally, he'd find himself staring at man, unable to break the stare for some reason. I'd imagine he was around twenty before he heard the term bisexual and ran with that for a little while. He doesn't label himself though, he's more of a go-with-the-flow type of guy.

Lester never properly came out either, not when he was sober anyway. I'd wager to bet that Vincent probably knows because they're also a bit fruity, while Bo's oblivious.

Though Lester likes just about anyone who gives him positive attention, he's got minuscule experience. He was always the weird kid growing up and he never knew how to really grow out of that. He likes people, but he doesn't understand people if that makes any sense. Maybe he got lucky once, honestly, I can't see him being much of a playboy or anything.

Him having a male significant other would probably come up out of nowhere, since he's never been the type to actually bother looking for a date. All his crushes were spontaneous and a lot of the time, he didn't even try talking to them. I'd imagine he'd bump into you either in a public setting, or maybe he'd find you walking by yourself toward Ambrose. Or perhaps you're his favorite worker at a store he regularly visits. Whatever it is, he'll be a little thrown off by the butterflies he gets.

Even when you're dating, Lester won't tell his brothers. He trusts his brothers with a lot, but he's shy about his sparse love-life. Bo's very protective & reading Vincent's opinion is virtually impossible. That coupled with the old mindsets they were raised around, and then lay the fact it's the early 2000s on top of it? Yeah, he's got a lot of anxiety.

Lester will be honest that he has brothers nearby, but explain haphazardly that he's a bit worried about introducing him. "Cause I'm a guy?" "Oh no no, well, I mean, kinda. But like they ain't bigots or nothin', it's just that they're protective and I don't want them gettin' the wrong idea, and they-"

Man went on rambling for minutes on end until you reassured him it was fine, and that you completely understood.

Lester knows that a lot of people are against gay marriage and stuff, but at the same time, he doesn't filter how he feels about you at all. Even in public. Sometimes he'll be hyper-aware of who's around and other times he acts as if you two are the only ones that exist.

Holding your hand in the store, playfully flirting at a bar, demanding a kiss when he does good on picking groceries. He's not used to affection so he soaks it up like a sponge Homophobes be damned, he's gettin' his lovin'!

In any relationship Lester's in, I can't see him being necessarily dominant, though I can't see him being real submissive either. He's more in the middle. That kind of dynamic doesn't really happen in everyday life when you're with him, you're equals.

In the bedroom, this tends to carry over as well, but again, he's not super experienced. Especially with a man. There's some anxiety that blends with his eagerness, and it leads to him kinda...awkwardly freezing. He wants to do stuff! He's just not sure what the stuff is. You'll definitely need to coax him to loosen up, explaining you can take the lead for now, and if he wanted to do so later? When he had more confidence? Then you'd do that.

That being said, Lester honestly doesn't mind bein' a bit of a pillow princess. He doesn't know that's what he's being but hey, it's nice being cared for sometimes! Especially when you're a super touch-starved dude like he is.

You ain't wearing him out either, he gets hyped up on this stuff. If you're the type to need a nap after doing the naughty? Good fuckin' luck, Lester's ready to talk your damn ear off. "Oh! Did I tell ya 'bout the giant wolf spider I found in my truck? The sucker was big as my hand! I mean it! Wolf spiders are real interestin', they got real good eyesight and-"

You know so many animal/plant facts, it's really great for bar trivia.

Lester's not bothered by the fact you're bigger than him either. He has no issue at all, he can work around that! You can life twice what he can? "That's mighty useful! Maybe you can give me a hand!" Oh, your voice super deep and bass-y? "I bet everyone would lis'en to me at the wood shop if you'd back me up! Soundin' all scary like that!" Oh, you a bit too tall for him to reach for a kiss? "Oh that ain't no problem! I can just stand on the back o' my pick-up! Look, see? Now I'm perfect height ta reach!"

Hell, he'll fuckin' jump if he has to. He's getting that kiss.

Lester moves really fast in a relationship for the most part. He's not going to pressure you and he's completely understanding if you need to move slower, but he's not wasting any time if you're okay with it. Move in a week after meeting him! Hell, he'll marry you within a few months if you feel it's right. Full courthouse and everything! (Don't tell him it's not legal yet, he'll get sad)

If you find out what his brothers do, and the fact he helps them, Lester gets sick and numb. He'll honest to god have a panic attack if he can't find you afterward. He's worried about his family and now he's sickened by the fact the person he loves most thinks he's a monster. That doesn't tend to bother him any other time.

But, if you don't leave, and even seem kinda chill with it? It's the biggest relief. It'll also help how he feels about you meeting the twins.

Still, he'll try to keep you away from it if possible. He doesn't want you needing to get your hands dirty with blood unnecessarily.

He absolutely thinks you being sadistic is attractive, I'm sorry, I don't make the rules. He's willing to kill for the person he loves, and if you return the favor? Oh, OH, he's gonna suck ya dick so hard.

✧---------------------------------------------------------✧

There were storm clouds coming in, and quickly. The wind was cold and it was growing harsher by the second. Dirt & small rocks clattered together as your shoes met the ground. You took in a deep breath and looked up to the sky, silently cursing the hands of fate that dealt you these cards. It was a shitty deal and you clearly weren't cut out for gambling with this kind of luck. "Fuckin' figures."

You'd come out to the middle of nowhere with nothing but some clothes in a bag, a Nokia phone, a switchblade, and your dignity. All shoved into a 1971 SST 2-door hardtop. Which was now completely dead. Both from a lack of coolant & gas. It had carried you across half of Lousiana, loyal thing, but it was bound to fail eventually. Especially with the limited funds you had. It was either a car or food, and bathing, given not every local gym was nice enough to let you take a shower for free. You'd at least managed to get one before you ended up on some old backroad, not that it would matter now, since the rain was coming in. Being in between jobs was hard enough. It seemed like everything kept getting worse. Being let go from a decent-paying job, losing an apartment, and needing to move back home all at twenty-four? Not a great month. Then it was made even worse.

All because your parents were old Southern baptist.

They'd heard it around of an old "buddy" of yours, a brief boyfriend was what he really was. Not a terrible guy, honestly, but it didn't work out. It ended amicably. And yet, one slip to one wrong person, and now you were a homeless drifter. Of course, your parents had technically given you an option. Rebuke the devil or leave. Naturally, you left. You weren't a huge fan of your parents anyway. You'd told them you'd be caught sucking the devil's dick before you went through another baptism to "wash the queer" out of you. That was basically the last nail in the coffin of your already shotty relationship with them.

You'd been walking for a while, though you weren't exactly sure how long. Long legs getting you pretty far with each stride. A headache had begun forming from the unconscious anger showing in your face, clenching jaw and furrowed brow. You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, looking down at the dirt. A large gust of wind blew towards your face and it carried a terrible smell with it, making you cringe and slow for a moment. "Fuckin' hell, the fuck is that?" You hissed, looking around. It was a few feet further before you saw the cause. A roadkill pit. "That 'splains it." You slurred quietly, adjusting the hold on your bag. You hummed, watching flies circle around decaying bodies of deer and other animals. You tore your eyes away at the sight of a decomposing dog. Poor thing.

You'd made it about a little past before the sound of tires and some clacking caught your attention. You turned and spotted a Chevorlet, old and dirty. Probably from 1980-something. It rolled to a stop beside the pit. You tilted your head and watched as someone got out, seemed like a man, probably only 5'7". Dressed in a stained flannel, some jeans tucked into boots, and a dark green hat. Whistling a tune as he walked around the truck and to the back. The sound of a tailgate dropping and thumping gave away what he was doing. He was the roadkill driver. Respectable job, even if gross.

You stepped a bit closer. Maybe he'd know where the nearest town was, or maybe you'd get lucky and he'd have a bottle coolant somewhere in that truck full of... raccoon tails and bones, by the looks of it. Though you paused when a dog's head popped up from the seats, staring at you through the windshield. Then it began barking, though it didn't seem too aggressive, you hoped anyway. There was a light sprinkle of rain starting now, and it would no doubt start to get worse. The man spoke to the dog as he came back around the truck. "Yeesh, Jonesy, what's your deal?" He asked in a thick southern accent. He looked in your direction and you gave an awkward wave. "Sorry, didn't mean to freak out your dog."

The man shut the car door. "Ah nah, that's alright. Can I help ya?" He smiled. Not the best teeth but he couldn't help but remind you of a dog. You returned the smile in kind. "Well uh, I'm not sure. Would you happen to know of a town nearby? Or, perhaps you got some coolant in that truck of yours?" You asked. The man adjusted his hat and shook his head. "Ain't got any of that, but there's a station up in Ambrose. Bo could fix ya up there. Might wanna get there quick before the storm gets worse." He said, walking back to his truck. He motioned for you to come closer. "I could take ya if you'd like!"

"Really? Fuck, you're a lifesaver." You sighed in relief, jogging closer. The dog, Jonesy, popped up when you opened the passenger's side door. She sniffed at you aggressively, tail wagging, before she seemed to smile and settle down. "Well, aren't you sweet." You said softly, patting her back as you got in the truck. Bones clattered. It was a busted-up truck, but it was charming in that way. "Oh yeah, Jonesy's a sweetheart for sure. Found'er on the side of the road! Got real sad cause I thought I'd be puttin' her in the back. But nope! She was alive!" The stranger smiled, staring the car again. You hummed and quickly acknowledged you hadn't told him your name, which you quickly corrected. He repeated it by the syllable to ensure he got it.

"Name's Lester Sinclair! Nice meetin' ya!" He held out one of his hands. You went to shake it, though hesitated when you saw some roadkill blood. He glanced and quickly wiped it on his jeans. "Sorry bout that." "Nah nah, it's fine. Come with the job, yeah?" You said, properly shaking his hand now. His hands were callous and dirty, but Lester noted how much smaller his hands felt compared to yours. He never thought he had small hands until now. "Mighty big hands you got, you a workin' man?" He asked. You shrugged. "More or less. Not at the moment. Corporate bullshit and all." He nodded at your response.

You glanced down at the dog between the both of you and noted a knife strapped to his belt. "That a bowie knife?" You asked. Lester looked over and then down before he grinned, pulling it from the holster. "Yeah! You like knives? Carved this one myself!" He held it up proudly. He felt warmth bubble in his face as your fingers grazed his, taking the blade. "That right? Did a good job by the looks of it. You the "use everything" type of man, eh?" Lester felt his cheeks burn, he hoped it didn't show. "Mhm, that'd be right!"

"Well, that's real admirable. Don't find people like that much anymore." You complimented, giving the knife back. Lester seemed to get more energetic, tapping his fingers on the wheel. Maybe he thought it was subtle but you noticed, and honestly? It was pretty cute. The sound between you both dipped off for a moment as the rain grew worse, clattering against the windows. "So what brings you all the way out here?" Lester spoke again. "Oh, technically I was just off the highway, I've been walking this road cause my car gave out on me. Poor thing, been through a lot recently." You explained. The man looked over at you with wide eyes. "You walked this whole way from the highway?! Well, I'll be damned, you must be exhausted! What's a guy like you doin' that for?" He asked.

"Well, been a shitty month. Job let me go, been strugglin' to get a new one. Got kicked out of my apartment cause rent went up by twice as much as it used to be. Went to my parents for a lil, then had a falling out with'em. Probably the last I'll ever speak to'em." You admitted. It felt cathartic to actually say it out loud even if it was also upsetting. Exhausting for you to recall all the problems that happened in such a short span of time. Lester clicked his tongue in sympathy. "Ain't that some shit. What was so bad they kicked ya out?" He asked innocently. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was always hard to gauge how people felt about the topic of gay people, and with all due respect, Lester didn't seem like the type to be cool with it. Still, it wasn't like you had much to lose. So, with a sigh, you just said it.

"Ain't too into me likin' men. Church-going types." You said quietly, looking out the window, following the raindrops. "Oh that kinda bullshit, don't blame ya for not wantin' to talk to'em then." His response was quick and it honestly caught you off guard. "You uh...you okay with that?" You asked. Lester glanced over and nodded. "Yeah? Well, I grew up 'round people who weren't, but I didn't ever understand why. One of my brothers put it in a way that always stuck with me. It don't matter where your love comes from, s'long as it's genuine." He explained. A smile broke out across your face and your gaze softened. "Well, that's a nice change."

Lester nodded. Butterfly wings grazed his stomach and he came to a stop, hissing between his teeth. "Road's washed out worse than I thought. Thought I could beat it." You waved your hand. "Nah, don't worry about it. I can probably just walk across. You got me pretty far." You replied. "You'll get soaked out in that! And there ain't no guarantee Bo'll even be at the station. Hm..." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "I got a cabin nearby if you wanna wait it out there. Only if ya want though!" He offered. The kindness was a much-welcome change. Perhaps it was a bit naive to just...agree. But you didn't feel like wading through ankle-deep water to end up in a town with no one in it. "Yeah, sounds fine to me." Lester beamed at your agreement. He hadn't had guests in his home in...well, ever, excluding his brothers.

Some nerves burned in his body as he changed course to drive up to his cabin. Silence passed between the two of you, comfortable for you, tense for Lester. Finally, he struck up a slightly shy conversation. "Ya know uh, I ain't ever been to sure bout my whole...sexuality, or whatever it's called." He admitted. You glanced over with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah?" "Well like, I know women are mighty pretty. Always knew that. But uh...ya know, every now and then..." He trailed off with a passive hand motion, ears bright red. You smiled and gave a soft chuckle, not mocking, more fond. "There's a man that's just as pretty?" You asked, making him nod. "But then there's manly women and pretty men and they're also nice to look at. Met a few people who I couldn't tell at all, but I knew I liked lookin' at'em." Lester rambled.

"Well, there's a term called pansexual, bisexual also covers that kind of feeling. It's the ability to be sexually and romantically attracted to people. Just people. Regardless of their biological gender or how they present." You explained. It was a bit more complicated than that, but a simple explanation was probably best suited. "That right? Huh...maybe I'm that then." Lester mumbled. "Could be. Ain't anything wrong with it." You shrugged. The conversation dipped off again but not for long. "You got a type in men?" You asked, smiling when Lester choked on his own saliva. "Well uh- I mean, no, but like-..." He stuttered. Your laugh rang out in the truck and he felt his chest tighten. "Relax, loverboy, take your time." The pet name made Lester's blood burn. He let out an exhale. "Startin' to form one right now." He whispered, maybe thinking you couldn't hear.

You did.

"I'll keep that in mind." You replied quietly. Lester let out an exhale as he turned past some trees, pulling up to a nice-looking cabin. Rustic and hidden amongst tall trees. You snorted when the man thumped his forehead on the steering wheel, snickering when he patted his face. "Alright, I'm good." He said, sitting straight again. "Welcome!" He motioned to the cabin. You laughed again and nodded. "Thank you! C'mon, I'm eager to see all the bones you have." You said. Lester brightened up and hopped out of the truck like a kid on Christmas. He'd never had anyone interested in his bone collection. Running up to the porch. "Oh I got plenty to show ya, trust me." Lester grinned. "If it's anything like your truck? I'm excited." You nodded, following him inside.

What a nice turn of luck.

#lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #slasher community #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher fucker #house of wax #slashers x male!reader #male reader #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #slasher #slasher headcanons #gay gay homosexual gay

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butmakeitgayblog · 9 months

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Hey babe, first, wanted to let you know that it hasn’t stopped raining in my town you know since when? since you posted that midwestern Clexa fight, coincidence? Don’t think so 🤨

Second, been bombarded with that ops show too and I agree 100% with you, both in the copaganda aspect (they lost me at the mention of marine’s and middle east terrorism)and the thing about this new ships. I want to stop a moment in the answer you gave me a time ago about this wn comeback, so, even if they write them well (at first), never forget who’s behind these shows and suddenly this thing we haven’t heard about gets popular cos it has a wlw couple with amazing chemistry, they get increase in viewers so they explote it to promote their next season and then what? Sound familiar? We just can’t trust them anymore.

Third, I super totally agree with you on the Clexa lightning in a bottle. As one of the newer Clexa fans (next week will make one year since I saw the second season and told my sister “I’m sensing a little bit of the gay vibe in here, wonder who of the two will die”) I’ve seen already most of the shows one sees named in the conversation about wlw couples and let me tell you, only this one got me hooked both from the beggining and way long after its ending (hell it got me into tumblr and twitter, things I’ve never done before and I even bought a book about it “El legado de Lexa” to know more about this shitstorm her death caused). Whatever IT is, they have IT. I honestly prefer reading fics about them than get invested in a new show.

Fourth, do you really wouldn’t recommend Clexa to new fans? I mean, yeah we got hurt but they’re more than their sad story, they’re this whole community and I think that’s a beautiful thing. Personally? I wouldn’t recommend the loo but I’d tell them about Clexa warning them beforehand so they can decide for themselves? There’s this dialogue on a media fic comparing someone with a really good book that you can’t put down or let go, that even if it made you suffer and you know the ending, the feeling you got reading its unique and you just wanna keep back to it, and that’s this thing to me.

Finally, I love how you apologize beforehand if your opinion that you posted in your personal blog offends the people who asked for it and came to said blog willingly and with the intention to read it. You humble polite kiddo *pats you in the head affectionately*

Sorry about the long rant 😬, en resumen, this new show? not sure I’ll watch it, Clexa is the “el que no conoce a dios a cualquier santo le reza” of ships, I’m leaning more into the recommed Clexa side of things, we love you and your opinions.

And we need the reconciliation so the sun can come up in my town again.

There's a lot here 😅 not complaining tho!

Ok so the first real thing I gotta answer is about would I rec theloo and Clexa to people who haven't heard of it. My honest answer is would I rec Clexa fic? Yes. The show? Maybe, but it'd come with A Lot of caveats 🥴. Because the thing is, and I may be alone in this thinking idk, but I'm not really sure if someone can appreciate the entirely of Clexa and Lexa, and Clarke in particular, as characters or why their dynamics and eventual love story were so amazing if they didn't watch the show. While the Clexa movie is fantastic at showing their chemistry, there's things that happen within the show that effect them and speak on who they are as individual characters that aren't ever really included in the supercuts because they aren't together in them. Which I agree with! The thing is already 3+hrs long lol. But it does matter for context and it does hold weight in their story, both together and individually, so I would have to say to really get them you have to watch the show at least up until 307. I know there's people who write fic who haven't watched the show at all and I just... no shade! But I can usually tell. Cuz it shows.

But in that same breath the show got so fucking stupid and nonsensical I, in good conscience, have a very difficult time telling people that they should watch that hunk'a shit 😒 Season 2 was its best, let's just be honest, and season 3 was JRot's bullshit Frankenstein creation that he used as a way to shoehorn in this fucking AI plot from a movie or show (I can't remember which) that didn't get picked up but he was just convinced it was brilliant. He wanted to be GoT meets Star Trek or some shit so badly I just know he was pissing himself watching dailies. So overall it's such a double edged sword because yes I want more people to love Clexa, but at the same time the show overall is so gd bad I don't wanna put them through it.

About the Ops show, someone said it is copaganda which I expected, and not even actually enemies to lovers?? Which baffled me but apparently one of them is undercover and using the other one to get to their father or something? That's not enemies to lovers 🤨 that's manipulation. Which ok fine I'm down with that in fiction but if one party is unaware of your nefarious ways and is just interested in you then that's not... that's not EtL. That's just I was trying to trick you and caught feelings/I had feelings and then found out you were a liar. False. Advertising. 😤

Lastly, I'm a midwesterner we apologize for everything 🥺👉👈 knocked into a chair with my knee today ans accidentally apologized to it before realizing myself 😔. But really it's mainly because I know how easy it is online for people to think everything is a personal attack on them or their tastes when it's not, so I find it's just safer and more pleasant to remind people that I am just a person stating their own personal opinion, and it's really not ever anything to get upset about 😅

#gabywithoutthedollhouse #and also I'm writing the midwestern make up now I'm sorry I was... busy

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transformsx · 2 years

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ʺ BONNIE WINTERBOTTOM ︰ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 .

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘: @magizian 🫶🏻

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆: whoever won’t kick my ass for tagging them in something so long?

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟷 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

NAME : her middle name is jean, if that’s what you’re digging for. not too exciting once you’ve already heard her last name.

EYE COLOR : dark, dark brown. in a lot of lights the iris and pupil just kind of blend and they’ll seem to be pure black.

HAIR STYLE / COLOR : naturally it’s probably best described as light brown, but it’s been dyed blonde since she was about thirty. it progresses from a bob in s1 of the show to like, a pixie cut ‘currently’. it’s very straight and very thick.

HEIGHT : she’s 5′4″ (barely), but if we’re anywhere near the show timeline she’s in heels pretty much always.

CLOTHING STYLE : pant suit in single color (usually bolder, the older she gets). button-up blouse with some crazy print on it. comfy, at home. owns more grandpa cardigans and pj bottoms than most of us will ever see in our lifetimes.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE : her eyes (huge) / lashes (miles), probably. invented being bambi. her skin is also so flawless It Makes Me Sick, but there’s nothing especially noteworthy about the tone or whatever.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟸 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

FEARS : [enneagram vc] Losing Her Support And Stability. also, just in general, anything bad ever happening to anyone she loves that she cannot personally stop in its tracks. and she is a self-proclaimed hypochondriac.

GUILTY PLEASURE : she pretty much thinks enjoying anything is a guilty pleasure. nobody is supposed to know she smokes, though, so probably that, if we’re playing by the rules here.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE : incompetence lol she’s VERY patient in the sense of like, waiting for things to happen, but she can deal with people being bad at their jobs for about two minutes before she just starts doing it herself

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE : retirement. god bless. she wants a family but her boyfriends keep dying and it’s usually kind of her fault if we’re being honest [my actual ‘canon’ is kinder to her but where’s the fun in joking about that]

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟹 : 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒.

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP : 1. still here? 2. damn. 3. phone. Where Phone. did anybody have a near death experience while i was sleeping that they personally requested i attend? no? okay. good. 4. what do you mean i have 88 unread text messages and 81 of them came from someone texting me from inside my house 5. [screaming] 6. coooffeeeee

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST : like that list is hard to deduce for anyone who has seen like 6 episodes of htgawm. but also, what her next trauma haircut will be

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED : not shit, baby. she just drinks her bourbon and passes the hell out. she sleeps like a rock.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS : not being a rich guy

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟺 : 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES : you say that like she’s ever been on an actual ‘date’ in her whole life (but single) (you wouldn’t wanna try a group date even if you’re literally all in a poly ship)

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED : um

BEAUTY OR BRAINS : she definitely has her preferences but, she could date somebody she didn’t find Beautiful. she could not date somebody she thought was an idiot. except for that one time

DOGS OR CATS : you’ve met her

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟻 : 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘…

LIE : astonishingly well? yeah. it’s always intentional, though --- which is to say, if she’s not in the right mind space when she tries, she’ll get flustered (but this only happens when she is very, very comfortable with you).

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES : she’s not unreasonable. she’s pretty aware of what she is and isn’t good at / what she can and can’t change. she gets self-conscious, but she doesn’t stay that way. that said, she will always have an inferiority complex in literally any situation where she feels like she’s being #competed with romantically, so you can imagine the stress she is under

BELIEVE IN LOVE : does she believe in anything else lol DON’T tell her i said that

WANT SOMEONE : it’s kind of her thing. yearning. look up the verb ‘to yearn’ and she will just be there like HEATHCLIFF, IT’S ME, I’M CATHY, I’VE COME HO-O-O-OOOOME and it’s like. a renewable resource. she just keeps being like that

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟼 : 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑…

BEEN ON STAGE : most certainly not

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN : i mean, she’s tried before, but she’s [her vc] a grown-ass woman

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟽 : 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.

FAVORITE COLOR : blue

FAVORITE ANIMAL : butterfly. no use for real animals but if you made her go to a zoo she would probably pick something stupid-looking like a penguin

FAVORITE BOOK : she can’t read. she works 26 hours a day

FAVORITE GAME : the american legal system. she’s canonically great at pool

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟾 : 𝐀𝐆𝐄.

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE : 30 june.

HOW OLD WILL THEY BE : she’d be 38 if these things worked that way

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 𝟶𝟶𝟿 : 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄.

I LOVE : coffee

I FEEL : not caffeinated enough

I HIDE : alcohol from annalise, so i can drink it myself and be a good wife at the same time

I MISS : getting away with it without those meddling kids

I WISH : she’s not that fun. she’s an istj

#study.

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thatawkwardwitch · 3 months

Text

#OcculTea

I've been seeing stuff about this conversation and I want in so here's my contribution! (questions from @ ella.harrison's Instagram)

Hi! I'm thatawkwardwitch or kit whatever you wanna call me is fine! I've been participating in the online community for about as long as I've been practicing. I sought out an online community pretty early on because I started practicing during lockdown and I desperately wanted to find people I could connect with about witchcraft. I usually reblog informational posts for beginners. When I make my own content, it's usually just little snippets of my practice. I'm still trying to find my groove here and figure out exactly what kind of space I want my blog to be.

I like sharing my practice online because I don't have a strong in-person witchcraft community. A few of my irl friends practice, but it's not something we talk about for whatever reason

I hope to learn more about other people's practices and experiences as well as to connect with other people

I really only know the online community and don't have an in-person community to compare it to, so I feel like I can't fully answer this question

I'm not primarily on Instagram, I'm mostly there just for art stuff so I'm going to skip that one. Uh oh god tik tok. I feel like TikTok is good if you want aesthetics and that's about it. As far as sharing information, the format of the app doesn't really allow for any in-depth discussion. I've seen and heard a lot of misinformation being spread and people just running with it. I like YouTube a lot though! There are good educational videos, and because the format allows for longer videos, it's great for discussing and sharing information on more complex topics. However, I feel like most people don't go to YouTube? I feel like everyone's first go-to is TikTok even though WitchTok doesn't really exist anymore. I feel as though TikTok has sort of accustomed people to being spoonfed information, so beginners are less likely to go to other sources where they actually have to work for information.

yes and no. I think it's really easy to get into a rut in your practice and just stick to consuming content instead of working through the rut. But it's not just social media. "Armchair occultists" have been around forever, as long as there have been books about it. So yes, I guess it can be a substitute, but no, in the sense that, it's not everyone. Most people I know online still practice outside of social media so I'm not sure how much of a problem it actually is

I don't share a lot about my own personal practice on social media, or irl for that matter. I've posted a few spells and those weren't fully staged but they also weren't fully reality either. Like, I actually did the spell, but I kept some parts of it offline so it couldn't be undone since it was a protection spell. As far as all the experiences I've shared, I share them as I've experienced them. I do experience psychosis so I can't say that all of them were 100% reality looking back on some earlier experiences (but I'm not sure if I've even shared those ones), but I report things as I perceived them happening to me.

I don't know shit about social media etiquette so that's definitely not a part of whether or not I share stuff. Most of the time it's personal preference not to share. I try to be very careful about asking my spiritual team what I can and cannot share. Lately, I've been trying to practice more of what chaoticwitchaunt called "moving in silence" mostly as a way to protect myself from the evil eye, but also because I've definitely gotten in trouble with my spiritual team because I've shared stuff I wasn't supposed to. In general, there definitely is censorship. Most platforms won't show or let creators talk about blood, bones, fire, etc. and then there's cancel culture. which I'm not going to go too far in depth about but people love to censor each other.

Yes. I've thankfully never encountered any, but there's gonna be grifters in any community that can be capitalized on. Because I don't have any experience with grifters, I'm not sure what all the warning signs are but definitely double-check and cross-reference people before doing business with them.

I think the best way to stop the spread of misinformation is to develop and hone your media literacy skills. Critical thinking is so important, especially in this space. Do your own research on a topic; don't just take one person's word as fact

I feel like a lot of people will look at someone with a large following and immediately assume that they're an expert, but in reality it just means that they know how to work an algorithm, a completely different skill than witchcraft.

While I don't quite consider myself a witchy content creator, I am still a content creator for fandoms/bandoms. The main thing I do to keep authenticity is to take breaks from content creation. I can't work well when I'm struggling with schoolwork or mental health. When I take a break from social media, I usually state why so my followers know what's going on, but I never try to promise content I'm not sure I can or will make

I like seeing content from other creators. I find it particularly inspiring, especially if I've gotten stuck in my own practice or if I've fallen out of a daily routine. It's motivation to keep practicing.

I don't think I've ever let FOMO get me to the point where I've been taken advantage of. I guess I got lucky where all my beginning resources stressed the importance of not needing tools, so it really stuck in my head. I don't think I've ever purchased anything because of FOMO.

Unfortunately, yes. The main way that FOMO gets me is when I see people who have been brought up practicing or people who have easy access to their ancestral practices. As someone who's trying to reconnect, when I see other people who have reconnected or are further along in the process, I do feel a bit bad and frustrated with where I'm at, but it is something I am working on. I don't want it to prevent me from practicing

I haven't really experienced imposter syndrome in this area of my life yet. And I think that's just because I don't have a huge online witchy presence. But because I've experienced imposter syndrome in other areas of my life, one of the things I use to fight it, is to remind myself of all the work I've done to get to where I am

Oh god. I think I'd be Wiccan and I'm not saying it like it's a bad thing but most of my early books on witchcraft were written by Wiccan authors. If I didn't have online media, those Wiccan sources would be all I had because that's what my dad reads. I'm sure eventually, I would have found my way to Christian Witchcraft, but I think I would have never worked with the Norse gods and I would have missed all their lessons. Because my dad is into Gnosticism and Wicca, without online resources, I don't think I would have ever explored other routes

I think having an in person community is far more fruitful than an online one. Not that online spaces can't be important, but there's only so much connection you can get from behind a screen

Like I said above, I don't think I would have gone down the path I did if I didn't have an online community. It's how I learned about ancestor veneration, and folk magic, and it gave me a reading list outside of the stuff my dad reads.

I think the biggest danger to the capitalization of witchcraft is the appropriation of closed cultures and practices

I have not, and I don't know anyone who's been personally affected (to my knowledge)

Yes. If people are providing you services that they worked hard on, they should be compensated for their work. While I think knowledge should be readily accessible in general, it is still important to protect that knowledge as well as people's time and efforts. Especially in the world we live in where everything costs money. If people are providing a service, it's almost a necessity that they be duly compensated

Again, cross-reference and double-check everything

I wish people would talk more about how to do research. We're always telling people to do the research, but as I'm finding out just from group projects in college, most people don't know how to do research. And I think I'll make a quick and dirty guide to research at some point because this is something that's been bugging me for a while

I feel like I just need to interact more. I do a lot of lurking so I feel like my needs will be met once I start interacting

Honestly, I don't know. I think assuming the best out of people, not to the point of naivety but assuming good intentions.

Again assuming good intentions.

chaoticwitchaunt on YouTube is the main person I go to. Seeking Witchcraft (podcast) was a vital source for me as a beginner. I also like The Red Text (podcast) as well

I'd just encourage my mutuals and followers to comment and share their own experiences. I really want to be more engaged in this community so this is an attempt at doing so <3

#witchcraft #witch #witchblr #christian witch #pagan #paganism #witch stuff #pagan witch #occultea

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6mommymilkers9 · 3 years

Note

If your comfortable with this, how would the four lords react to fem!reader being pregnant?

As soon as I read this, I knew I had to write it! Thanks for the request :)

The Four Lord's With A Pregnant S/O Headcannons

Alcina Dimitrescu

° Alcina is extremely ecstatic. Considering you both...lacked the necessary equipment to have a child of your own, it was planned, so it was nothing but happiness for the Lord and yourself.

° Lady Dimitrescu, having daughters of her own, knew nothing of how to care for an infant or child no more than the size of her calf. Her daughters were born from Cadou; this was something new. She won't say she was nervous, but her eyes told her lies.

° The pregnancy was a very 'on the fence' type. Life in the small village wasn't as boring as everyone thinks, so the constant excitement was a bit of a problem. Thankfully your daughters let their antics subside (The mom look Lady Dimitrescu gave them scared the shit outta them).

° With that, there were maids, of the highest order per Alcina's request, that took care of you. They had helped you walk around when your baby bump grew heavy, making you wobble. As well as with getting up the stairs and such. You never touched a single broom or dusk cleaner during this time.

° Alcina took care of you in the more intimate ways. Putting away her books and drama with Mother Miranda, she gave you her iconic smile as she helped you bathe or rub your back when it was a testing day. She always made sure you wore a face around her.

° Over all, she may be nervous, but absolutely in love with her unborn child, ready to see them any moment to spoil the hell out of them. It's mother instinct you know.

Salvatore Moreau

° Moreau, as soon as he heard the news, was scared AS SHIT! Before his mutations, he was a doctor, the birthing wasn't what bothered him. It was the part of "I'm a dad?"

° Only Mother Miranda knows how he landed you as a partner, but you carrying his child? Oh boy that was something new. Him being insecure, this made it worse, but at the same time made him happier than ever. All he ever wanted was a family, and looks like he was getting it, even if he had the personality of a wet towel.

° He would stalk up on books about parenting and pregnancy to help you at any point he physically or mentally could. Since he is physically disabled from his reactions to the Cadou, he isn't that much of help with walking around or such things of that sort. He is more than happy to help you talk your head off. Even if he can't speak well, he musters the longest conversations he could with you to get things off your mind.

° He gives you tons of offerings and gifts. If you mentioned you liked something, he would get it for you. Though, he found you much preferred to be wrapped in his coat on the large bed you two shared in the mines. He would smile everytime he walks in on you napping in his coat, his pride shows through.

° With his happiness, he worries about his child's conditions. Would they be the same as him? Would they have his same complications? With the little technology he had, he couldn't know the answer and that scared him.

° What he suffers from was preventable, he doesn't want his child to suffer from something they were born with. To him, he saw it as cruel. This ends up with you having to comfort him until you convinced him that whatever happened, your child would be loved the same. Things will be alright.

Donna Beneviento

° Well, it's the same concept with Lady Dimitrescu. It was planned with some help. Now, in contrast to Alcina, Donna had dealt with a small child, bearing her own. Do to an accident, her child passed away, which made her dive into her work as a doll maker.

° She was extremely scared. Not for you, but your baby. Her failure to protect her child in the past projected to her child now. What if she couldn't protect the baby? What would she do in an emergency? In summary, she is a big worrier.

° All the corners in the houses and sharp objects were child protected, and you were only in your first trimester! That's not the worst of it, she was always by your side. It sounds nice, but she was way too clingy. After some talking, she gave you room to breathe.

° As a doll maker, she also had a hobby of knitting clothes, making outfits for your child. They arranged from dinosaurs, to dolls, to even herbs. You watched as she knit and even tried it out for yourself. Let's just say you ended up with a deformed sleeve. You let Donna handle the clothing from then on.

°She is always there to comfort you in any way possible. If she is off for a meeting, she makes sure Angie stays with you to keep you company and help with anything you need. Angie sees you as her mother and treats you as such. She can't wait to see her new sibling.

° When you are in pain, you bet Donna is on her way to make some tea with special herbs to help with it. Her green thumb is something special in that garden of hers. You couldn't thank her enough. Better than a prescription from a doctor anyways.

°She and Angie take great care of you and make sure your needs and wants are met. You have two amazing people..and dolls by your side. Just wait until the little one arrives!

Karl Heisenberg

° He is on the fence about it, really. It's not like he doesn't want the child, but he doesn't have the best parental figures. He doesn't know if he would be a good father or not.

° Over time, he would ease up, listening to your encouraging words about your future family and events. Though he still has moments of doubt when he wanders around the factory to tend to the Soldats that were malfunctioning.

° He ain't soft and he ain't a sissy, but that facade is thrown down the drain when he would curl up behind you to wrap his arms around your baby bump and whisper to his unborn child. He isn't much of a singer, but he hums songs from his childhood against your bump, thinking the baby could hear him.

° Karl absolutely gushes over you and the baby when he can feel a kick. He can sense the strength the little one has already. "Atta champ! Just like your old man." He is going to drag for days to his machines about the strength of his child and how they will grow to be a great leader someday.

° He is overprotective as anyone could think. Especially when Mother Miranda is around. Her, thinking it's her grandchild, decided one day to pay a visit. Karl wouldn't have that, nearly tripping over his own feet to drag her ass to the bottom of hell's tunnel.

° No one is going to mess with you and he makes sure to everyone that is clear. The Soldats don't even try to bother you. In a factory of killing machines, you are the being they are most afraid to even look at. Just wait until your child is born. Those poor machines.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil headcanons #resident evil #resident evil village #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg x you #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #tall vampire mommy #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #salvatore moreau #Salvatore Moreau x reader #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #mother miranda #Resident Evil Headcannons

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shotorozu · 3 years

Text

you like their hands

character(s) : shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou, monoma neito (2/?)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, quirk left unmentioned

post type : headcanons + small scenario [fluff, the mildest of spice] not even nsfw

note(s) : i was gonna put denki in this but i had a hard time thinking about what kinda hands he’d have, so i’m putting him in the next post

»»————-　♡　————-««

shinsou hitoshi

his hands are big, and his fingers are quite thick.

really likes wearing rings and bracelets, but he usually doesn’t wear them when he’s working (i’d say that bc wearing jewelry while doing physical activity HURTS)

regarding texture, his hands were initially soft— but due to transferring in the hero course, they roughened up over time

he’ll use hand cream if you want, but he doesn’t go the extra mile. and his nails are trimmed at all times. painting his nails a black color would be great once in a while.

lol i forgot to mention nails in the last post

he notices right away that you like his hands when he catches you staring at them when he’s cracking his knuckles

like.. people have said that his hands are nice, but he doesn’t really say much about them bc they’re not you

scenario

a crack sound is briefly heard in the rather silent room. the scrolling on your phone halts, and your eyes follow the sound of the crack.

ah, he’s cracking his knuckles. you think to yourself, and you’re left just simply admiring the way he applies pressure on a knuckle. who knew that his rather— large hand would look appealing, even while cracking his knuckles.

you snap out of your observation, but instead of just simply going back to whatever you were doing, you’re met with lilac eyes. “you were staring again.”

your cheeks heat up, and you opt to just turn your head to the opposite direction. “sorry,” you apologize. however— that’s not what hitoshi was looking for apparantly.

“if you like my hands alot,” he scoots next to you, hands sliding up and down your arms— his firm grip practically making the pre existing butterflies in your stomach act up again. “then you should’ve said so, kitty.”

is he conscious of his actions? hm. you could say that

he’ll purposely play with his capture tool right in front of you— the material wrapping around his hand. and he can only laugh when you immediately get absorbed into it

the back of his hand will brush against your cheek. then, when he comes in to kiss you, he’ll cup your cheek— kissing you with his other hand resting at your nape

under the table, his hand will start to slide against yours, interlocking hands with you. he’ll act like nothing is happening, but on the inside— he’s taking in your reaction

a little spicy, but when he wants you to look at him— he’ll do that thing where his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, as it almost dips right into your mouth

if he feels a little extra, his hand will also be tugging on your hair (if you’re fine with that. otherwise, he’s sticking to the one above)

oh and he also does that thing where he rests his hand on your neck, thick fingers squeezing your throat lightly.

overall— THIS MAN omg, he’ll entertain your interest in his hand nicely, just for you. and every single thing he does is memorable

kirishima eijirou

his hands are quite normal regarding size, they are almost always veiny, a lot more than bakugou’s actually. i think at some point he was concerned about them

his hands are rather flushed in color, but that’s because of his quirk. his fingers have a few tiny scars here and there,

he occasionally has pen marks on his wrists due to bad penmanship, and his nails.. don’t look the best, but they’re not the worst it’s bc of his quirk

the palms of his hands are ridden with callouses. but he wears them with pride because it’s the pure evidence of his hard work with his training.

but he starts to get worried about them when he goes to hold your hand.

you always had a thing for kirishima’s hands, but you just never had the chance to tell him that. i guess asking you did it for him

scenario

did you even realize how hard you were staring at his hands right now? it happened every single time he enlaced his arms around you, his hands resting at the sides of your arms

at first, he thought it might’ve been because his hands are too rough, or you might’ve been in discomfort— because maybe, just maybe, he accidentally activated his quirk?

the fact that he can’t exactly tell what it is worried him, maybe he should just ask you.

but his worry washed off when you told him upfront that you ‘liked his hands’

“wait so.. you’re staring at my hands because you like them?” kirishima wants to confirm your words, and— so casually, by the way— nod in agreement.

tracing the veins on his hands, you elaborate “your hands are really nice, i can tell how hard you must’ve worked.” pressing your smaller hand against his, you smile.

eijirou takes a moment to process it, but it’s surprisingly quick. “oh t-thanks!” he sheepishly took the compliment, a small blush sporting on his cheeks. “i’m glad it wasn’t because you thought they were weird.”

kirishima unintentionally feeds your interest with his hands. like sometimes.. he’s just not aware of it, but yes— he is feeding your interest well

will always make you compare hand sizes with him, chuckling softly at the dazed look on your face when your palms touch

if you allow him, he’ll fix your hair for you. doesn’t matter what hair type you have, he’ll do LOTS of research to know how to style it

those hands are magical

if you get a papercut, or a wound from cooking— he’ll patch you up, then he’ll press a kiss on the bandaid.

he’ll do this thing where he’ll squeeze your sides when you pull in for a hug. but if you’re not okay with that, he’ll opt to just rubbing your back with his hand— rocking you softly as he hugs you

a little spicy, but his hands do wander a lot. you might need to even hold them in place to make sure they don’t go too wild

in addition to that, he’ll just SLIGHTLY, activate his quirk to make sure you’re conscious of his touch. his finger tips gliding against your back, sending shivers down your spine.

but of course, he’s careful. he doesn’t activate it to the point it causes scratch marks, nor will his actions draw blood. he doesn’t wanna do that

in short— kirishima’s a little clueless at first. he wouldn’t really tease you in public, but he’s surprisingly attentive to your interest.

monoma neito

his hands are on the tipping edge of slightly above average. he doesn’t have a lot of veins on his hands, but they do pop out depending on what quirk he’s using

monoma’s hands are pretty spotless of any scars (from cuts, abrasions, etc.) because he gets REALLY annoyed with wounds pretty easily

to the point he’d want to attend to the wound immediately, he doesn’t let them sit— it’s just a personal preference

his nails are at the perfect length. not too long and not too short to the point it hurts, you don’t know how he does it.

wears watches on his wrists, and not the digital type— he sorta acts like he can read it easily, but it takes him a few seconds to even get to know the time

you know this because kendo snitched on him and told you LOL

you secretly hate yourself for this, but you really like his hands because of how he takes care of them. you’d never tell monoma even though you’re dating him

scenario

you’re unsure of yourself on how your boyfriend— monoma, found out about your fascination with his hands. it was supposed to be a secret for the rest of your life, and you only remember talking about it once out loud

which you assumed was a close call, considering that you thought he didn’t hear it at all— but he did.

“so i heard you like my hands, huh Y/N?” monoma’s teasing tone does not aid the situation. your cheeks heat up with embarassment, and you can’t get yourself to answer his question— without sounding like a fool anyway.

you fake annoyance, “where’d that come from?” you ask, and monoma doesn’t seem to want to switch the topic

“i’m asking you a question, dear Y/N— i heard you like my hands,” his tone would’ve sounded condescending to any other person, but you can tell that he’s either genuinely curious

or just teasing you, because that’s how he is.

to aid his question, he brushes his fingers along your neck— near your pulse. you jolt, stunned by the sudden action— heart beating rapidly against your chest.

“see,” monoma presses his hand against your chest, where your heart is palpitating, grinning in a way that’s teasing you “it’s true, isn’t it? sweet Y/N has a thing for my hands, hm?”

you furrow your eyebrows, and flick his forehead— and he hisses in reaction, “fine then, i do like your hands.” you finally give in, admitting final defeat.

ever since then, you haven’t heard the end of it

definitely that person that’ll just randomly bring it up to you, no matter what hour of the day it is.

“oh Y/N, you were totally fawning over my hands earlier—”

“i will castrate you.”

you know he means well most of the time, but sometimes he just loves teasing the heck out of you.

but that doesn’t mean he neglects your obvious interest in his hands.

he’ll compliment you, he’s a snarky person in general— but to you, he’s totally smooth with it.

slides his hand from your forearm to your hands, only to bring them up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your hand

squeezes your hand everytime he sees you, it’s kind of a nonverbal greeting at this point

similar to kirishima, he likes comparing hand sizes— teasing you about the size difference (even if it’s not even a big of a difference, he’ll take that chance.)

does this thing where he rubs his thumb against his palm. does it a lot when he’s concentrated about something, or just out of the blue

a little spicy, but he’ll make you tell him what you like about his hands, and what you like about the things he does with those hands of his. if that makes sense

he wants all of the details, doesn’t care if it’s mundane, or things he does when he’s feeling a certain way.

he wants to know, because as soon as you’re done with your spewl, he’ll do exactly what you like, teasing you while he’s at it. and so he can start incorporating those habits whenever he’s around you.

totally someone that’ll make you suck on those fingers. oh, but he’ll purposely get some dessert on them— asking you to suck them off

“good grief, i got some dessert on my fingers again. Y/N, come suck them off”

sometimes he’s serious, sometimes he’s just teasing.

overall— it’s pretty adventurous. he starts to act on it as soon as the revelation is revealed to him.

but i’d say he does just fine.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, translate, repost, or use my work for audio readings without my consent :))

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

small world ~ corpse husband

word count: 2053

request?: yes!

“Can I get a Corpse x fem reader where reader an corpse are both streamers and they meet each other for the first time and realize they used to know each other as kids? I know Corpse has said that he didn’t have many friends when he was younger so maybe have it where reader was someone that was really nice to him? Sorry for the long request and thank you if you do it! 😊🖤”

description: he never would’ve thought that the new addition to their friend group would be someone from his past

pairing: corpse husband x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

“Hey Corpse,” Karl said. Corpse hummed in response, focused on the drawing he was doing for their Jackbox game. “(Y/N) is also from San Diego. Do you know her?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Karl, San Diego is pretty big. We’re not bound to know one another. Besides, just because he lives here doesn’t mean he grew up here.”

“I did grow up in San Diego actually,” Corpse said. “I don’t think we would’ve known each other though. Even if we happened to be in the same area, I didn’t talk to many people and I dropped out in the seventh grade.”

“I was, regrettably, popular in school,” (Y/N) added.

“Regrettably?” Karl asked.

“Yeah. Looking back, I hated being popular. I hated it when I was popular even. My friends were mega jerks and made fun of everyone, even me sometimes. I would try and make them be nice but they just let the popularity go to their heads. I haven’t spoken to any of them since we graduated. There was this sort of outcast in middle school I used to have a crush on. I tried to be friends with him, but he preferred to keep to himself. I always wished I had been friends with him because I feel like I would’ve been so much happier. I never saw him again either. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

Something about her story triggered a memory in Corpse. The year before he dropped out, there was a girl in is class who was always nice to him and tried to talk to him. He brushed it off as another way he was being made fun of. When it kept up, though, he realized she was likely being genuine. He still kept his distance, but he found himself gaining some feelings for her as well. When he dropped out, he never heard from her again.

I wonder where she is now, Corpse thought to himself. Man, what was her name?

Corpse accidentally gasped, drawing the attention of everyone in the Discord call.

“You good Corpse?” George asked.

“Y-Yeah,” Corpse responded. “Just uh...just realized I fucked up my idea a bit. No big deal, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The game started prompting for everyone to show what they had created. Taking the opportunity of not having to speak, Corpse went to Google (Y/N)’s YouTube channel. She had come into the game as a friend of Karl’s and Corpse hadn’t heard of her channel, but now somethings were starting to click together.

The first thing that popped up with the top Google Image for (Y/N)’s channel name. It was a beautiful girl laying in a garden of flowers with a wide smile on her face. Corpse sucked in a breath as he realized that the girl in the picture looked familiar.

“Corpse,” came Karl’s voice, snapping Corpse out of his trance. “It’s your turn.”

“Sorry,” Corpse said. “I was distracted.”

The rest of the stream Corpse felt like he was in a daze. He continued to play the games and forced out laughs when he realized someone was making a joke. Every time (Y/N) spoke, he felt his heart flutter with excitement. He couldn’t believe that after all these years he had finally been reunited with her. And what was better was that she had actually admitted to having feelings for him too!

Don’t get too excited, he thought to himself. She said she used to have a crush on you. That was a very long time ago.

He tried not to seem too eager when the stream finally ended. He waited for someone else to leave the call first before he exited out of it himself. He waited another few minutes before messaging (Y/N) directly on Discord.

hey. it was fun playing with you tonight. weird request, but can we voice call maybe? just the two of us?

Corpse didn’t expect her to respond any time soon. It was late in San Diego, like nearly 3am late. Most people were going to bed by now. She had mentioned once during the stream that she was starting to get sleepy. He figured she’d see it in the morning and either call, or just ignore the message.

To his surprise, near seconds later, she was calling him.

“Hey stranger,” she said when he answered. “Long time, no speak. You must’ve missed my voice a lot, huh?”

Corpse chuckled. “Exactly, I really did.”

“Makes sense. I do have the best voice on the internet.” She laughed this time. It sounded like such a perfect sound. “For real though, is everything alright? Why did you want to call?”

How did he even tell her? Hey, so you know that outcast you liked? It was me! Surprise!

No, he couldn’t say that. Maybe she wouldn’t even remember, or maybe she wouldn’t believe him. He had to figure out some way to bring it up.

“I kind of wanted to talk more about your popular school days,” he said, trying to keep his voice light and teasing. “It’s not every day I meet a streamer who’s in my own area code. It would be nice to get to know someone who isn’t like a five hour drive away.”

“Oh!” She seemed excited by this response. Her excitement was almost contagious. “Okay, where should I start? The shitty friends or the shallow popularity?”

Corpse chuckled. “You pick.”

She talked for nearly an hour about her high school experiences with her popular friend group. Despite how much she despised being popular, (Y/N) still spoke with a light tone in her voice. She tried to bypass a lot of the more negative details and speak only of the good experiences she went though, which was nice to hear.

Corpse nearly jumped with excitement when she began to talk about middle school unprompted.

“It really was the last good years I had in school,” she admitted. “All my friends, the ones who went on to be super popular with me, they were nice then. Annoying, but all middle schoolers are. We didn’t care about popularity or social rankings. We were just...we were just kids. We didn’t even really know the difference between ‘losers’ and ‘popular’, which was why it was so easy for me to talk to that guy that I liked at the time. My friends weren’t mocking me for having feelings for an outcast.”

“You said you never saw that guy again,” Corpse said. “Do you know what happened to him?”

She sighed heavily. “No, I don’t. He just stopped showing up before we hit high school. I thought he moved, but I knew his mom and I saw her around everywhere. I don’t even remember his name anymore to look him up. Wherever he is, though, I hope he’s doing better. Even if they weren’t sucked completely into their popularity at the time, my friends and the other kids were still awful to him.”

“I feel that,” he said. “I wasn’t exactly the most liked kid in school. Before I dropped out I didn’t even have any friends.”

“That’s awful.”

“It wasn’t too bad. I’m not really a friendly person I don’t think. I’ve worked on it since that time, but the thought of trying to maintain a social relationship still gives me anxiety from time to time. There was one girl who tried to be friends with me the year before I dropped out though. She was nice.”

“What happened to her?”

Corpse smiled to himself. She would figure it out soon, he knew she would.

“I just didn’t hear from her after I dropped out,” he responded. “I guess that’s mainly my fault. I never reached out to her or anything, but I barley knew her name. Just her first time, and she never gave me a number or anything. I couldn’t look her up online. Maybe we just weren’t destined to be together.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you two were just right people, wrong time. Maybe you’ll cross paths again and finally have that opportunity to be friends with her again.”

“Maybe you’ll cross paths with that guy from your middle school, too.”

There was a prolonged silence. Corpse wondered if (Y/N) was starting to put the pieces together. He could barley even hear her breathe. The longer she went, the more worried he was becoming. He was about to say something when she finally spoke again.

“I made him a Valentine,” she said, her voice soft. “Special handmade one. He was the only one I gave it to. It had some really badly written, sappy poem in it. I watched him open it and...I really think he got emotional while reading it. Of course, he’d never tell anyone that.”

Corpse had gotten emotional over the Valentine (Y/N) had given him. It was the first real Valentine he had ever gotten. It wasn’t one of the generic ones that everyone gave out to every classmate so no one felt excluded. It was made from the heart, and that fact alone touched his. Like (Y/N) said, though, he didn’t let anyone know how emotional he had gotten. It would’ve just been more mental ammo for them to use to bully him.

He quickly got up from his chair, racing to his room where he had his box of memories shoved in his closet. It was little things from throughout his life that he kept in a shoebox. Whenever he felt particularly down or depressed, he would open the shoebox and look at all the things that made him smile.

At the very top of the box was (Y/N)’s Valentine.

He went back to his computer and took a picture of the Valentine using his phone.

“That sounds really nice,” he said as he went into the Discord app on his voice. “It must’ve meant a lot to him that you put so much time and effort into a handmade gift.”

“I don’t know if it did. I never got to ask him what his reaction was.”

“Oh, I’d bet anything he was happy.”

He sent the picture through Discord and waited for (Y/N) to open it. The silence between them felt deafening. The seconds felt like they had slowed to hours. He wondered what (Y/N)’s reaction would be. Maybe she’d be weirded out by the fact that Corpse kept the Valentine, or by the fact that Corpse was the middle school crush in general.

What if she’s upset that this is who I am now? he asked himself. What if her crush was just a middle school thing, and the moment you dropped out she moved on?

“I knew it.”

Corpse couldn’t help the smile on his face when he heard the slight excitement in (Y/N)’s voice.

“I knew it was you!” she continued. “Well, I didn’t know know, but when you asked me to call you I had a bit of a suspicion. I can’t believe it...it’s actually you!”

“It is me,” he confirmed. “And it’s you.”

“Small world we live in, huh?”

“Yeah, small world.” Do you still like me? Did you ever stop? Do you know that your kindness stuck with me for so long?

The silence returned. Corpse was starting to get sick of it, but he didn’t know how to fill the void between them. When he heard her yawn, he realized how late it had gotten. “I’ll let you go, you sound tired.”

“We just had this breakthrough and you’re asking me to sleep?!”

Corpse chuckled. “You have to sleep eventually, (Y/N). It’s like 3:30am, normal people sleep at this hour.”

“I am offended you would think I’m anywhere near normal.” She yawned again, cutting off her short lived rant. “But you’re right, I am tired. Listen...promise me you’ll answer when I call tomorrow. I...I’d really like to catch up. Maybe...to pick up where we left off.”

“Okay,” Corpse said, then realized that wasn’t really a response. “I promise. I’ll be waiting by the phone the moment I open my peepers.”

(Y/N) giggled. “I’ll be sure to call you the moment I open mine.”

“Goodnight (Y/N). Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight Corpse underscore Husband.”

kind of a bad ending, but i wasn’t really sure where else to go with it as i wrote it. sorry! :(

#corpse husband #corpse husband imagine #corpse #corpse imagine #corpse x reader #request #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic

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demonslayedher · 3 years

Text

How Does Eating Humans Work?

Hello, Gotou here. We’re shamelessly borrowing from the format of a KnY Fanbook #2 comic to launch an investigation into demon metabolism and development by crossing the Sanzu River again to interview demons in the underworld. While we’ll be using canon materials as a base, the analysis and conjecture herein is personal, so we ask for your understanding. Also, please note that consuming any food in the underworld will make you unable to return, and we cannot promise your safety even though the interview subjects are dead, so please come along at your own risk.

Some of the questions we’d like to answer are, why do demons need to eat humans? How much do they need to eat to survive? Are there factors that influence how eating humans makes them stronger? If they don’t want to kill humans, what are their other options? We’ve rounded up some special guests below the cut (hidden for length and grossness), everyone from the lowly Temple Demon to the lovely Tamayo, to see what their actions in canon might tell us.

First, a review of what canon tells us, mostly as summarized in Fanbook #2: 1. With one exception named Yushirou, all demons were created by Kibutsuji Muzan, for his own purposes. They all have some amount of his blood, and can be divided into four classes depending on how powerful they are. From top to bottom, the Upper Moons, the Lower Moons, demons with special abilities, and other demons without any special characteristics. 2. Demons may be stronger depending on how much of Kibutsuji Muzan’s blood they have. Most beings’ cannot handle a large amount of his blood, and it will rupture the cells and that being will die, but there are demons who adapt well to it. 3. Typically, sunlight is the only way to kill a demon, by either bathing them in sunlight or cutting of their head with a Nichirin blade. However, there are powerful demons for whom chopping off their head does not work, and if it’s strong enough, demons can also be killed by wisteria poison.

4. Demons eat human blood and flesh. The more they eat, the stronger they become, and the faster their regenerative abilities become. Some humans have “Marechi,” a rare blood type, which is especially nutritious to demons, and eating one Marechi is the equivalent of eating several humans.

That’s an interesting thing we’d like to come back to, especially since we’re looking for quantitative information about how demons gain nutrition (though I have my doubts we'll get enough for statistical analysis). As an interesting note, Fanbook #2 also tells us that if demons try to consume the same edibles humans do, they’ll vomit it back up.

I’m told that Miss Tamayo drinks tea, though. That’ll be an interesting question for later. In my notes, it seems she’s also explained to Tanjirou back in Chapter 15 that demons will normally go berserk if they go a long time without consuming any blood or flesh. Berserk is one thing, but I wonder if they can starve to death? We’ll see if these canon clues will lead us to anything. We’ll begin now in an interview format. Hopefully this will go smoothly, but I’ve got a feeling it won’t. First up, we’ve the Temple Demon.

Temple: Who were you calling ‘lowly’ just now? Up there, above the cut?

Gotou: That was in a literal sense, not having Blood Techniques means you’re in the bottom common tier of demons.

Temple: Argh. Fine. What do you want to know?

Gotou: In Chapter 2, you were spotted with three human victims. However, it seems you left their bodies mostly intact and only ate small parts instead of consuming one full human at a time. Could you comment on this?

Temple: I’d have gotten to more later if that whelp with the strong legs didn’t interrupt me! Who’s got time to eat entire humans anyway? I went for the easy stuff first.

Gotou: I see. It appears you might had focused on key organs, like the heart and the liver. Would you say these are especially nutritionally dense?

Temple: I guess. If I’m going to eat humans, I’m going to start with what’s worth bothering to digest. Blood’s easier on the stomach, so that’s what I was busy with on the lady there.

Gotou: Then it takes effort to digest? Hmm. Let’s come back to this later. How many humans would you say you consumed, including these three?

Temple: Not a lot… I tried to get a variety so I could get stronger faster, but…

Gotou: I’ll put down a guess as ten or less. Let’s move on to someone who has a sharper memory for numbers. One of our longer-lived guests at Mt. Fujikasane for 47 years, the Hand Demon. While most of the demons on the mountain had only eaten two or three humans, you’ve eaten a whole 50 of the children who headed into the Final Selection, didn’t you?

Hand: Yes, that’s right. It was hard at first since I wasn’t very strong, and the demons usually all went crazy there eating each other, just like that one brat who got away in Chapter 7 said. If you could manage to kill any of the kids, you had the other demons to fight off to even get a piece to yourself. That was enough to get me by, and stronger, little by little. Your body learns to make your meals last, and make the most of what you can get. I usually only had a bite of one child a year, can you imagine how horrible that was? Most demons who survive usually figure out some way to develop and survive better, and once my cells found something that worked for me, I kept doing it. I got really good at snatching away prey from other demons, and soon enough I was a bigger threat than any of them. None of them could, you might say, lay a hand on me.

Gotou: That’s an interesting point about self-development. A demon named Nezuko was spent two years doing that in her sleep.

Hand: She must have had a big meal before that!

Gotou: Well, anyway. It seems that in near starving conditions, your metabolism made the most of what you had, leading to the most efficient use of whatever food was available to you.

Hand: That’s right, I got really good at it. Wasn’t always pretty, but I made it work. I got to a point where I could go two years without eating and still keep my wits about me while the other demons were going mad. But I chose to eat. I liked to keep my appetite for specific children.

Gotou: That smile is not reassuring. Some humans taste better than others, I guess?

Hand: That’s for sure. This one kid tasted awful, like rust and man sweat! I still don’t have that disgusting taste out of my mouth! But he was one of my more satisfying meals, so I ate more of him.

Gotou: Then why would you… nevermind, I don’t like that smile, no further questions. While I had hoped to keep these interviews focused on quantities of humans consumed, it does seem personal taste is worth asking about. I had tried to invite a Swamp Demon from Chapter 11, but it kept arguing with itself and it felt like I’d be wasting my time. The one definite thing I learned was that this demon is picky, with a distinct preference for 16-year-old girls. Based on the number of trinkets he kept, it seems he had consumed at least seventeen of them, including several in one town. Sheesh, that’s sort of a rough mission to send a first-timer on. I’ve got a more cooperative guest here to discuss her tastes, a Snake Demon who, according to Chapter 188, has a special taste for baby flesh.

Snake: Thank you for having me here. It’s good to be appreciated again.

Gotou: Did you only eat babies?

Snake: Goodness, no. Babies are delicious, but they aren’t very nutritious. And their skulls certainly aren’t that big, the ones I lounged around with were from the people whom I killed and stole from. But you know the nice thing about baby skulls? They’re still soft. They take a long time to digest, but I can swallow them whole.

Gotou: Like… like a snake, then. Sorry, I’m a little ill hearing that. Let’s back up, were all those skulls the remains of adults you ate, then?

Snake: Meh, I ate some of them of better-looking ones, but most of them I only killed. I could usually kill a lot more at a time than I could bother eating, my killing record was fifty women all at once.

Gotou: And you didn’t find that wasteful?

Snake: Wasteful? Not at all. I wasn’t exactly in dire straits, I lived a more luxurious life than most demons do. That meant I could afford to wait for a truly delicious meal, like how you humans might leave something in a slow-cooker to enjoy the perfect combination of doneness and tenderness, plated in the most appetizing of ways.

Gotou: I guess demons and humans are similar in that regard.

Snake: I’m so glad you can relate! Then you understand the frustration of a meal you’ve be preparing for years opening up the slow-cooker and running away right when they were just about done.

Gotou: I have never had that experience.

Snake: I’ll get you, my pretty. And your little snake, too.

Gotou: I think we might have gotten a little off-topic here. It does seem digesting humans comes with some difficulty. I’d like to invite the Drum Demon in next. Your name is Kyougai, I hear?

Kyougai: !!

Gotou: Kyogai, right?

Kyougai: You’ve heard of me! You know my name!

Gotou: I happened to, yes.

Kyougai: What have you heard???

Gotou: That you were kicked out of the Lower Moons for being unable to consume enough humans.

Kyougai: Oh. ……..yeah, that’s me.

Gotou: I thought demons go berserk if they go a long time without consuming humans. Wouldn’t that make an inability to consume them problematic?

Kyougai: It wasn’t that I couldn’t eat them! Like I said in Chapter 24, I had to in order to sustain myself, just like any other demon. But, at some point, I couldn’t eat as much as I used to. That happens to humans too, doesn’t it? When you just can’t stomach anymore?

Gotou: You mean like when you’ve overeaten? In a human’s case that feeling may go away within a few hours.

Kyougai: Sort of like that, but you know, humans reach a time when nothing is appetizing or the thought of eating makes them feel sick, right? Isn’t that the human condition?

Gotou: …uh… maybe if they have a medical condition? Or anxiety? Do demons get anxiety? Or eating disorders?

Kyougai: I… I don’t know. I just wasn’t good enough.

Gotou: I think it’s plenty good if you stopped eating humans. Though to have developed Blood Techniques and been a Lower Moon in the first place, you must had eaten a great number of them.

Kyougai: You think I’m great?

Gotou: What?

Kyougai: No, sorry, I was getting ahead of myself. It’s true, I used to be able to eat as many as the other Lower Moons always consumed. Our stomachs were stronger, you might say. Demons got strong by eating humans, and then the more you did that the better you usually got at it, so the strong ones would eat more and more and keep getting stronger and stronger. At least, that’s how it usually worked. I’ve seen other demons below me reached that point too, where they feel the drive to eat, but then they have trouble digesting it for a long time, so they don’t wind up eating that many people.

Gotou: Then it would make sense to eat the most nutritionally dense parts first.

Kyougai: Or a Marechi.

Gotou: Yes, or a Marechi.

Kyougai: It was a great idea, wasn’t it?

Gotou: I cannot condone any consumption of humans as a good idea.

Kyougai: I knew it. I’m nothing. Go ahead, stomp all over everything I ever tried to accomplish.

Gotou: I think I’m going to move on to my next interviewee now. It looks like we’ve got… oh, would you look at this? Lower Moon One. Enmu, I believe.

Enmu: You can believe whatever you want. I’m happy to help.

Gotou: I don’t need any help, thanks. I’m curious, since you were one of the stronger demons out there, it seems you had a stronger capacity for consuming humans.

Enmu: I did, I was always careful and paced myself so the Demon Slayers wouldn’t notice me. I took my time. I liked to enjoy e-e-e-a-c-h one.

Gotou: Then you had tastes too? Like babies, or 16-year-old girls?

Enmu: I could season any human to my liking. They’re all very easy to prepare.

Gotou: I’m still trying to get quantitative data. Can you tell me at least a rough estimate of how many humans you consumed?

Enmu: I told this more precisely to that boy with the earrings back in Chapter 59, and I can tell you this too. At my best, I could had eaten over two-hundred people at once if I took my time.

Gotou: OH MY GAW----sorry, I dropped my pen. Two hundred, at once?

Enmu: Yes. If I had just. Had. A little. More. Time.

Gotou: Clearly there is a huge difference between what common demons are capable of and what the Twelve Moons are capable of.

Daki: Psh, those were all any random common people. That’s nothing to brag about.

Gotou: Excuse me, and you are?

Daki: Daki, Upper Moon Six. You want something really impressive, you talk to the Upper Moons.

Gotou: I’m sorry, I don’t see you on my list.

Daki: What! Your list is stupid. Look me in the eyes, I’m Upper Moon Six!

Gotou: Very well, then. What can you tell me about your diet, Miss Upper Moon Six?

Daki: That’s more like it. It’s true that digestion takes a while, and takes some effort. Even though we Upper Moons may have eaten hundreds of people in our lifetimes, it’s not as if we gorge ourselves. The clever ones among us save prey for later to eat when we feel ready for it.

Gotou: Food storage? How do you keep them fresh?

Daki: You leave them still alive, numbskull. Nobody wants to eat something cold, that’s gross.

Gotou: I see, so that’s why demons prefer to go after new kills instead of saving what they’ve already managed to kill. That also might explain why the demons on Mt. Fujikasane wouldn’t had eaten many humans, if they found long dead ones in edible.

Daki: You want to know the real secret to eating humans? You can eat what you find tastes good, sure. But to get stronger, you eat strong people. Like your Corp members, the ones besides chumps like you? Using all that Breath makes their muscles really lean and potent, it’s like they come offering themselves as protein bars for us.

Gotou: You make them sound like a fad diet…

Daki: The real secret is eating Pillars. Besides Marechi, they’re the strongest meals out there. Guess how many I’ve eaten?

Gotou: I don’t have the data to make an educated guess.

Daki: Then get educated! Look back at Chapter 88! I’ve eaten seven Pillars, and my brother has eaten fifteen!

Gotou: Your brother? Who is he, then, Upper Moon Five?

Daki: What? Ew. Gross. Gross! No way, ew!

Gotou: Hmm… eating Pillars, huh? Well, I can think of one Pillar who was…

Douma: Me too!

Gotou: Speak of the devil.

Douma: Actually, we Upper Moons can! And he's not Satan, that's not how this works. But I guess Muzan-sama’s curse doesn’t effect us now. Ask me anything you want!

Gotou: That Chapter 143 reference was such a rude entrance. I understand that Pillars are particularly nutritious—

Douma: Oh, please don’t misunderstand! I don’t even eat all the Pillars I’ve encountered. There was the one Flower Pillar who got away from me, but some of the boy pillars I just leave around. What’s really the key to consistent nutritional intake is women! It’s really unhealthy for a demon not to get enough women in their diet, that’s why even if you’re only looking for Marechi or Pillars, your metabolism is going to get thrown out of whack with sudden big meals. You grow a stronger metabolism with consistency, I believe!

Gotou: If I could stop you there, I had an image from Chapter 142 I preferred to focus on for this case study. I see you keep a wide collection of skulls, from victims whom I assume you ate.

Douma: Yes, they all stayed together inside me for eternity, but the room looked lonely without décor.

Gotou: It seems other demons usually go for nutritionally dense organs like hearts or livers, or easy to digest parts of the body, perhaps just blood sometimes. Eating the entire victim, bones and all, doesn’t seem to be the norm.

Douma: Bones are organs too, you know! That’s where blood is made, at its freshest. They do take more practice in learning to digest, and I had to find a way around not having to chew them, but the bone marrow is very, very good for you, so I make sure to consume it frequently. It may take more time and it causes some of my followers to panic more while they wait, though, that’s a bit of a downside. Oh, and I guess bones can make good storage for some sneaky poison. Even fingernails and hair follicles, who’d have thought?

Gotou: I don’t think hair would have much nutritional value in the first place. In all my years, I can never recall seeing a victim with their hair eaten.

Douma: Tsk, tsk! Clearly you haven’t done much metabolism research in advance. I was really impressed by how well Shinobu-chan understood how my digestion would work. Eating hair can do amazing things! Isn’t that right, Genya-kun?

Genya: ?????????

Gotou: Genya-kun!?

Genya: What am I doing here?

Gotou: I don’t think you’re supposed to be here. Isn’t there, you know, another side? The other direction?

Genya: What are you doing here? Did you die?

Gotou: I’m here doing research on demon metabolism and how they get stronger by consuming flesh.

Douma: What can you tell us about what up with having your friend feed you hair you found on the floor in Chapters 170-171, Genya-kun?

Genya: I’m not a demon!! Why the hell are you asking me?

Douma: ‘Hell’! Haha, good one!

Gotou: How do you even know about that? You were dead almost a full volume before that. And Genya’s different, he’s not a case study in how demons consuming humans works!

Douma: Are you certain?

Gotou: I hear the term get thrown around a lot that he’s ‘half-demon’, but—

Genya: I’m not a demon!!!

Gotou: --how would that even work? That would imply that one of his parents had to be a demon, and that—

Genya: What did you say about my mother!?!

Gotou: What? Nothing—

Genya: You say that to my face! You just trying saying something about my mother to my face! My mother never actually ate any flesh, you got that? She doesn’t deserve any of this!

Gotou: Genya, calm down, what—

Douma: I see we’re learning nothing about hair at all. Maybe Kokushibou-dono would provide better commentary on that?

Genya: Mom? Mo-o-o-o-m? Are you down here somewhere?

Gotou: And there he goes… wait, did you say Kokushibou? Upper Moon One? Oh no—he—he didn’t want me bothering him, he did not agree to another interview—

Douma: He-e-e-e-e-y, Kokushibou-dono! How did that work with Genya-kun eating your hair? Hair can be nutritious, right?

Kokushibou: You would gain… nothing… from consuming human hair… it’s not… flesh… you wasted your energy digesting it…

Douma: Aww, cutting it off them would had been sad, though.

Kokushibou: Demon hair… like demon weapons… is made… from our unique cells. It’s not dead… like human locks. Because that boy ate my live cells… it affected him…

Gotou: Yes, because he had a very, very unique metabolism, analyzed separately in this post. To be perfectly clear, Genya is completely human with cells that could temporarily transform, and he never consumed human flesh.

Kokushibou: He… vexes me…

Gotou: Um… while I’ve got you here, you’re one of the longest lived demons, clocking in at over three, maybe four centuries. Do you have any estimate of how many humans you’ve consumed?

Kokushibou: ……I see in… Chapter 100… that you are 23 years old?

Gotou: That is correct.

Kokushibou: Do you bother… remembering how many meals… you’ve had in a mere 23 years?

Gotou: I’m very sorry to have bothered you.

Douma: Kokushibou-dono’s ancient compared to the rest of us! But if I tried, I could probably recall. Let’s see. One, two, three, four…

Gotou: Is that? Your finger in your brain? Oh—ohhh—that is disgusting---I really don’t need to know numbers that badly, please stop. Is there maybe just some average you can give me for the Upper Moons instead? Like how many you’d eat in a month?

Douma: I wish I could, but a certain someone was an annoying outlier and didn’t like to eat so many humans. He made me worry all the time about his health.

Gotou: Really? Who might that be?

Douma: Hello-o-o-o-o-? Akaza-dono? Yoohoo! He spends all his time with his wife now and never answers when I call, it makes me so sad. Akaza-dono did eat humans, plenty of strong ones, but any time he wasn’t under orders from Muzan he liked to spend his time training instead of eating. Fanbook #1 says he did that way more than eating!

Gotou: Training? What sort of training?

Douma: Similar things to what your Corp members did, I imagine. Doing squats, throwing punches, things like that.

Gotou: Then demon muscles had similar function to human muscles, and could be strengthened through hard work? That’s surprising.

Douma: I know, right? I’ll let you in on a secret, I don’t think it was the physically repetition that did anything. I think it was his willpower getting honed and shaping his muscles.

Douma: I had to focus when I acquired new skills too, like breaking down poisons. A lot of sad, lowly demons, like that Hand Demon fellow? They focus as hard as they can in their desperation, or focus on some strong emotion or attachment or whatever, and they grow and develop because of it. Sometimes all their weak bodies can manage is an ugly mutation, but that’s proof enough of how much focus they had.

Gotou: That sheds a lot of light on Nezuko, actually.

Douma: Shed “light” on Nezuko-chan, hahaha! Sunlight! You humans are all so witty!

Gotou: Speaking of willpower, I’ve got one more interview I need to get to down here. Of all the demons I have records of, only Nezuko went her whole time as a demon without consuming any human flesh, although she did go through moments of berserk cravings for it. It’s possible that other demons were killed before they could consume anything, but typically they will consume flesh as soon as possible, which is why its common for their family and close relations to be among the first ones killed. Tomioka-san even mentioned in Chapter 1 that these close relations are especially nutritious.

Gotou: A demon about as old as Kokushibou, if not older, is a special case of her own. She was one of the only demons we know of to have escaped Kibutsuji’s curse and acted in dependently of him, including having created a demon of her own after two hundred years of trying. Most notably to our purposes, she trained herself to subsist on small amounts of blood, after having survived on corpses and wild animals for a time, according to the extensive Taisho Secrets at the end of Volume 21.

Tamayo: I explained this in more detail to Tanjirou-san in Chapter 15, but I went on to purchase blood from poor people, and extracted it in ways that wouldn’t be harmful to them. The one demon I created, Yushirou, could subsist on even less. I gained enough self-control that I could treat injured humans without feeling tempted into a berserk state.

Gotou: I was just talking to Douma about willpower making demons capable of accomplishing new physical developments. Was that how you were able to gain this state? I heard you even enjoy a cup of tea now and then.

Tamayo: Yes, I’ve taken a liking to it. I’d offer you some if not for this, you know, being hell. It’s nothing like the hell I went through when first resisting consuming humans, though. My demon body refused to take anything but fresh human flesh at first, but in the hardest moments, I always remembered a kind demon hunter who said he believed in me and my desire to defeat Kibutsuji Muzan. I believe Nezuko may have summoned her strength to resist the call of her demon cells in a similar way; she knew she had her brother there to rely on. Once she mastered something as remarkable as resisting the need for human flesh, it gave her the freedom to prioritize other developments.

Gotou: You spent centuries researching demon cells, especially how demons may break down and metabolize poisons.

Tamayo: I had not studied the metabolism of poisons until working with Shinobu-san. The medicine we concocted for Kibutsuji was only possible thanks to her work, and I couldn’t had worked with many of those wisteria-based substances on my own. I feel I was only there to fill in the gaps of her brilliant understanding.

Gotou: You’re very humble. I would pass along my thanks and compliments to Shinobu-sama too, but I’m pretty sure she’s not down here. On that note, did Genya-kun go back home?

Tamayo: He did after a nice reunion with his mother just now, it was very sweet. Shizu-san and I get along well, after all, we both carry similar guilt.

Gotou: Wait, was his mother a demon? That means Wind-sama’s mother was too? Wait?? What??

Tamayo: The worst hell I went through, or that any demon has gone through, is to realize what you’ve eaten after the hunger-driven madness clears. Being similar to your own cells, they’re easy on a volatile new anatomy to break down and digest. That’s why many demons may have driven themselves to forget everything all over again, or to twist their personalities to justify the horror, saying that because they ate the hearts of their loved ones and because demon flesh can live forever, then they never truly killed them. The truth always remained untwisted for me, and to this day, it torments me more than anything in this underworld can try.

Gotou: …

Tamayo: You should wake up now, Gotou. You’ve been through a lot; the nightmares must be taxing on your health. Please remember to eat well.

#kny fandom theories and meta #too many characters to tag #I wrote this draft early last week and only this morning had time to edit it but it took foreeeevvvverrr on my slow computer #now off to work #eat well everybody #I'm off to work #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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tobesoalive · 3 years

Text

r u mine? (Jake Kiszka x reader)

hey guys...so this was fun to write, thank you to the kind anon who requested it! I currently have some fun (and steamy) Josh stuff in the works right now, but still feel free to send in requests! I might slow down a little with posting since my classes started, but I promise to get to every request! Enjoy my first Jake piece!

Warnings: SMUT(oral f-recieving, fingering, penetrative sex)

Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you headed down the hallway backstage, about to go out and face the crowd of thousands of fans. No you weren't a huge famous musician or anything, just their photographer. Basically the same thing right?

For the past three weeks you had been enjoying life on the road, it had always been your dream to be a concert photographer, and your work had caught the attention of a little band called Greta Van Fleet. Well, not exactly little. Their fan base grew everyday and now they were doing yet another headlining tour that they asked you to document. Over the past few months you had been in contact with the guys and their management, and you guys hit it off instantly, they brought you under their wing as if you were part of the family.

You basically were all one big family, you had gotten extremely close to the boys. Josh, Sam and Danny were like your brothers, and Jake...he was a little different.

Brother would be an odd way to describe him, seeing as you had a bit of a crush on him. Nothing super serious, you just thought he was a cool guy who also happened to be really fucking hot. You thought he might have a little something for you too, he was always asking you how you liked the show, and when he’d catch you editing the photos you took he’d sit himself right next to you and ask if you’d show him what you were working on. He was constantly complimenting your work, but that would mostly be in private, when he’d seek you out if he couldn’t sleep. You surely weren’t complaining, you enjoyed his company. You just wish he would say something, or even better, make a move. You could be taking his actions the wrong way, he does have tons of women who want him all around the country, maybe he does just think of you as a sister. Whatever thoughts you had about Jake you’d just push to the back of your mind, you had a job to do, and your work was more important than getting laid.

You went in front of the barricade and took some photos of the crowd and talked to fans. They liked to ask you questions about the guys and what it was like touring with them. You always tried to make them feel special by saying how thankful the guys were, which wasn’t a lie, to have such amazing fans.

All of a sudden you heard some of the fans start screaming wildly. They were chanting Jake’s name, and you turned your head only to briefly meet his eyes from the side of the stage where he was standing. Within a second he was gone, most likely rushing backstage to avoid any further commotion from the audience.

What was that all about? You thought to yourself. Did he sneak over there to just look at me? Maybe he wanted to talk or something. That can happen later, it was only a few minutes until the show started, so you wanted to snap a few more shots of the crowd before running all over during the show to catch the right angles.

During the show you had a great time, as per usual. You loved being right up front, taking photos of the guys doing what they loved. You went backstage to get some photos from the wings. Jake was about to do his signature move, playing his guitar behind his head, and you were ready to capture the moment. Right as you snapped the photo, Jake turned and winked at you, arms thrown behind his head, somehow managing to play the notes of “Highway Tune” whilst flirting with you.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, and you felt an intense need for him. Quickly you ran back out to the front of the stage to capture a few more moments before the show was over.

“God fucking dammit, I’m in deep” you muttered to yourself, before heading to the green room to congratulate the guys on the awesome show. You slipped through the crew heading on stage to clean up the equipment, turning a corner and bumping directly into Jake.

“Oh sorry! Great job out there tonight!” you say, trying your best not to blush. What was wrong with you, it was like you were a school girl or something.

“Thanks y/n! Did you get some good shots?”

“No, I made sure to get really shitty photos, especially of you”

“Are you being sarcastic?! Now that is something new!” he teased you.

“I just know how much you enjoy my sense of humor! I like to give back to the fans y’know” you quip back, causing him to break out into a smile.

“Hey the guys and quite a bit of the crew is gonna head out and probably find a bar or something once we’re done cleaning up. You wanna join?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I might just keep it lowkey tonight, I’d prefer to edit the photos tonight so I can explore whatever city we’re going to tomorrow.”

“Totally understandable, well I’ll catch you later!”

“Yeah for sure!” you say as you go off to find the rest of the guys.

After about a half hour of chatting and checking in with the rest of your tour mates, you decided it was time to change into your pajamas and spend the rest of the night staring at your computer screen, trying to edit as many photos as you can before inevitably passing out.

Getting onto the bus you shared with some other crew members, you kicked your Vans off before checking to see if anyone else was around. Seems like they all were opting to go out after the show, which meant you got the whole place to yourself. You traded out your concert outfit for a pair of shorts and a hoodie, getting prepared for your lengthy editing session.

You made yourself at home on the couch towards the front of the bus, turning on your speaker and playing music as loud as you wanted, getting straight to work.

It had felt like only a minute when you heard a knock on the door, but after checking your clock you realized an hour had already gone by. You peeked out the window only to see Jake’s figure standing there.

“Jacob! What’s up? I thought you were going to the bar?” you said as you opened the door to let him in.

“That show wore me out”

“Yeah you did amazing, I mean like you usually do” you say, stumbling over your words and internally punching yourself. God you were not smooth at all.

“Seems like we are some of the very few who decided to stay back, I was getting lonely in that tour bus.”

“Well you’re always welcome here, I was just doing some editing.”

“Wow you’re a pretty big nerd aren’t you? You know you should take a break every once and a while, I feel like you’re constantly working.”

“Well it’s not that hard when you love your job” you tell him.

“I guess that's true, can I see what you’re working on?”

“Yeah of course” you say while making your way back to the couch, Jake plopping down next to you.

“Damn that’s fucking awesome” he remarks, looking at the image on your screen. It’s the one of him playing the guitar behind his head, and winking right at you.

“I know! Thanks for being such a good model” you tell him with a small laugh.

“The guys and management are really impressed with your work. We’ve already been talking about having you come on the European leg of the tour with us.”

“Are you for real?!” you ask in awe, giddy with excitement. You absolutely loved this job and the people, and the thought that you could travel the world to do it was a dream come true.

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone though, I don’t want to get my ass beat for it.”

“Oh my god Jake I could literally kiss you!” you exclaimed, before you had even realized what you said.

You tried your best to play it off before your thoughts were interrupted by Jake’s voice.

“I wish you would”

“Huh” you stop for a second before turning to face him.

“Listen y/n, I think you’re really cool, and you also happen to be really hot. Sorry, maybe I was interpreting things wrong. I just thought if you felt the same it might be fun. It doesn’t have to be anything serious, I just get lonely on the road and -”

Before he could say another word, you took it upon yourself to answer his question, leaning in to capture his lips in a soft kiss. You pull back and look him in the eyes, closing your laptop and setting it on the counter.

“God I’m glad you finally said something, I think everyone was starting to sense the sexual tension” you grin at him.

“Well all I could think about on stage was fucking your brains out, so sorry if I’m not too great at hiding it” he says before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss, to which you open your mouth to let his tongue slip in.

You move yourself so that you’re straddling his lap, your lips moving perfectly in rhythm as Arctic Monkeys played softly in the background.

“Wow it seems like you were almost expecting this to happen” he teases you.

“Shut up and fuck me Kiszka” you say before he flips you so you’re now beneath him.

His fingers find their way under your shirt, reaching up to cup your breast. He pinched your nipple before quickly tugging at the hem of your sweatshirt.

“Can this come off?” he breathed into your mouth.

“Yes please” you said before he pulled it off you, exposing your bare chest to him. You felt very self conscious, it had been a little while since you had gotten naked with anyone.

“Hey don’t be shy, you’re gorgeous” he said before connecting your lips once more before he stood up to remove his shirt and shorts, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs. You tried your best to not look at his growing bulge, but it was hard to resist.

Suddenly he was kneeling on the ground, body in between your spread legs.

“Jake you really don’t have to” “Oh trust me, I want to, '' he says before running his fingers up and down over your clothed core, moving his fingers to the waistband of your shorts, pulling your panties down with them.

“God you’re so fucking sexy” he mutters before expertly pressing the pad of his thumb onto your clit, his other hand pushing on your thigh to keep your legs spread.

“Fuck, Jake, I need more” you groan, your arousal now dripping between your folds.

“Don’t worry baby girl, I’ve got you”

Those words alone probably could have made you cum, but then Jake entered a finger into you, causing your hands to tangle in his long hair, slightly pulling.

“Goddamn babe you’re tight” he said, looking at you in awe before adding another finger and leaning down to toy your clit with the tip of his tongue. His fingers were pumping in and out of you at a steady rhythm, and every so often he’d curl them to perfectly hit your g-spot.

“Jake you need to stop or else I’m gonna cum” you say as you pull his head back, looking him in the eyes.

“That’s okay” he reassures you.

“No, when I cum I want it to be around you” you say.

“Fucking hell y/n” he groans out in a raspy voice.

You get up and kiss him before pushing him down on the couch, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. You tug at the waistband, and he lifts his hips up to assist you. You took a moment to admire his length before wrapping your hand around it. He was a couple inches above average, with a nice girth to him. His head tipped back in bliss as you continued to give him a few more strokes before positioning yourself above him, running his tip back and forth across your slit. Slowly, you sank yourself down onto him, taking as much of him in as you could.

“Fuck fuck fuck Jake, you’re really fucking big” you breath out, only able to fit about half of him in you at this angle.

“Just do what you can baby” he says before softly pressing a kiss on your forehead, telling you that it was okay.

You started moving yourself up and down on him as best you could, starting to adjust more to his size. The stretch burned but slowly started turning more pleasurable.

After a few minutes your legs were starting to hurt and his length slipped out of you.

“Will you fuck me from behind?” you blurt out, sweat running between the valley of your breasts.

“I’d be honored” Jake responds, offering a smile before getting up.

He moves you so that your hands are on the back of the couch, holding you steady and your knees rest on the edge of the sofa, sticking your ass out towards Jake. You can hear him move behind you, hands finding their way to your ass, before you feel him run his tip up and down your slit once again.

“Ready?” he asks.

You nod in response and instantly feel him push his way into you, letting you adjust for a second before pushing the rest of his length in you.

“Oh my fucking god Jake” you say as you bury your head in the couch cushions, his dick hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know was there.

“Oh god you’re doing so good baby girl, taking all of my cock.” he says as he begins to pump in and out of you, starting off slow but gradually picking up the pace.

It feels amazing, better than you had imagined. You wanted him to stay in you forever, make you see stars all the time. Within a minute you were contracting around him, nearing your edge.

“Jake I’m almost there, please faster”

“Me too baby, me too” he says as he starts thrusting even faster than before, wrapping his arm around you to toy with your clit.

All it takes is a few more pumps and you can feel him explode inside you, groaning your name loudly and leaning over your back, but still circling your clit with his fingers. It’s enough to bring you to your peak, walls contracting around him, burying your head in your arms. Once you’ve both come down you stay in that position for a minute, before he pulls out of you and collapses on the couch, pulling you into his chest.

“That was way better than I imagined” he breathes out, hand stroking your hair.

“Oh so you’ve thought about this before? That's embarrassing” you say in a sarcastic tone.

“Hey I’m sure you aren’t so innocent yourself” he says smiling down at you.

“We should probably get dressed, I’m sure your brothers and the other goons will be stumbling in anytime now.” you tell him as you get up and search for your clothes.

“You’re probably right. Hey, let's do this again sometime” he says, cheeks going red.

“Hmm...I’ll see if I can fit you into my schedule” you respond, giving him a quick wink.

These next few months surely were going to be an adventure, and you didn’t want to miss a second.

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka #josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka fan fic #sam kiszka #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka imagine #sam kiszka fanfic #Greta Van Fleet #gvf #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fic

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somanyfuckedupiftruebooks · 2 years

Text

JonMartin Week 2022

Day 8: Free/AU Day

Read it on AO3 here!

A/N: I decided to be incredibly self-indulgent and write a Stardew Valley AU for the final day of JonMartin Week. If you haven't played the game at all this will hopefully still make sense, though obviously it will make a lot more sense if you are familiar with the game. Also apologies for the fact that this chapter was posted a little later than usual. As you will see, it's because it is more than twice as long as any other chapter and I wanted to get some sleep before I did the final edit and posted it. Sleepy me makes too many mistakes to be trusted.

SPRING, Year 1

Things started changing in Stardew Valley when the new farmer arrived and took over the abandoned plot of land to the west of town. Jon wasn't particularly engaged with the community (preferring to spend most of his time in the Library) but even he would have been hard-pressed not to notice how much of a profound effect Martin Blackwood seemed to have on everyone around him.

He heard about the new farmer long before he met him in person. While Jon didn't get out much, Pelican Town was a small place where everyone knew each other, so gossip travelled fast. Almost everyone who had a reason to stop into the Library found an excuse to tell Jon the news, starting with Elias informing him of the 'increase in the town's population' when he stopped by the Library on his 'official mayoral rounds'... whatever the hell that meant.

Agnes Montague mentioned crossing paths with him while he was on his way to buy a fishing rod from Peter Lukas and she was bringing the children into the Library for their lessons. A week later Danny was entirely unable to focus on said lessons because he was too excited to tell Jon all about how the new farmer had visited his family’s ranch and adopted one of their newly hatched chickens. Jon actually had to intercede that time, sitting down next to Danny with a book about animal husbandry and helping him to refocus before Agnes lost her temper with the easily distracted boy. He was able to give Agnes a break by holding Danny’s attention for most of the afternoon with interesting facts about the proper keeping and breeding of chickens, right up until his older brother Tim came into the Library to collect him.

As Jon walked Danny over to the front desk to meet his brother, Jon noted with some dismay that despite the fact that Tim was still in his JojaMart uniform and had clearly just finished work, his eyes were bloodshot and the smell of beer was clearly present on his breath.

At his little brother’s insistence, Tim dutifully corroborated Danny’s story about the farmer adopting one of their chickens.

‘He’s also in the Stardrop most nights,’ Tim added (which, of course, he would only know if he was also in the Saloon most nights). ‘I think he gets lonely, being out on that old farm all by himself. You should come by sometime. A lot of people spend their Friday nights at the Saloon.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Jon said, because that was what he always said anytime anyone invited him anywhere.

On Friday night, Jon did not go to the Stardrop Saloon.

When the first rainy day of spring rolled around, Jon was glad to close the Library a few hours early and head towards the beach. Ever since he was a child, he had always spent rainy days with Gerry, who was probably the only person in town that Jon would actually consider a friend. When they were children, they had spent their rainy afternoons hunting for frogs in the shallows of the mountain lake near Gerry’s house. These days they met up at the beach, to watch the ocean and ‘look for mermaids’.

Indeed, as Jon made his way along the old wooden pier towards what he had come to think of as ‘their spot’. Gerry was already standing there in his long leather coat with his dyed black hair plastered to his skull by the steady rain.

‘Perfect weather for mermaids,’ he said by way of greeting.

‘There is no such thing,’ Jon countered immediately, unable to stop himself from rising to the bait even though he knew that Gerry only said things like that to get a reaction out of him. Gerry was already laughing at him, but Jon ignored that and continued to talk right over the top of him. ‘The only time anyone is likely to see a mermaid in Stardew Valley is if they go to watch the fake ones perform at the Winter Night Market.’

‘How do you know that they’re fake?’ Gerry said, following the well-trodden paths of his favourite argument with the ease of a decades-long friendship. ‘They could be real mermaids.’

‘They’re not,’ Jon insisted. ‘They are women in costumes.’

‘And how would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever actually seen them.’

Of course Jon hasn’t. The very idea of going to see the mermaid show made Jon more embarrassed then he could tolerate, a fact that Gerry was well aware of and not above teasing him over.

‘I don’t need to see them, I know they aren’t real mermaids simply because you insist that they are, just like you insist that there are dwarves living in the mountains and shadow creatures hidden down in the sewers.’

‘Because there are,’ Gerry said. ‘The fact that you’ve never seen them isn’t evidence that they don’t exist.’

‘But the fact that you’ve never seen them is,’ Jon said haughtily.

Gerry just shrugged. They'd been arguing about whether or not Stardew Valley was ‘a magical place where impossible things can happen’ for so long that at this point neither of them actually expected to give or take any new ground. They were both just too stubborn to let the topic go entirely.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a while, observing the way the rain broke the surface tension of the ocean in a million scattered places.

Eventually, Gerry asked a question with a kind of deliberate casualness that immediately got Jon’s guard up.

‘So… the new farmer’s pretty cute, huh?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Jon said suspiciously. ‘I haven’t seen him yet.’

Gerry laughed. ‘Alright then. You can consider yourself warned.’

‘I don’t see why I would require a warning,’ Jon said.

‘You will,’ Gerry said, with a big shit-eating grin.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘Maybe you should come to the Egg Festival this year,’ Gerry continued, as if he hadn’t heard Jon’s question. ‘You’re bound to meet him there.’

‘Am I the only person in this town who isn’t obsessed with the new farmer?’ Jon asked testily.

‘Yes,’ Gerry said. ‘It’s the most interesting thing to happen since Elias and Peter got divorced in the middle of the Luau.’

‘You know I don’t do festivals,’ Jon said. ‘I do not like being around so many people, and I don’t appreciate being lectured about it by the town’s self-described “basement-dwelling goth”.’

‘I’m not lecturing, I’m encouraging,’ Gerry said. ‘Come to the festival, it’ll be fun. Tim is going to try and spike the punch again–’

‘–why?’ Jon interrupted. ‘It never works. Elias knows to watch him like a hawk.’

‘Yeah, but it’ll be a laugh when it inevitably blows up in his face,’ Gerry said. ‘This year he has a whole intricate scheme about how to keep Elias distracted. I overheard him trying to recruit Sasha.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Jon said.

Gerry rolled his eyes, already knowing that Jon would do no such thing.

True to his habit, Jon did not attend the Egg Festival or, for that matter, the Flower Dance, which was why Spring had almost ended before he finally met the new farmer.

Jon was dusting the empty shelves of the museum portion of the Library building, so he didn’t notice anyone come in until he heard an upset voice coming from behind him.

‘Oh no, what happened here?’

Jon turned, and saw Martin Blackwood. His first thought was that he was going to throttle Gerry the next time he saw him. ‘Cute’ was not an adequate warning. The farmer was absolutely gorgeous. He was huge, with what looked like very strong arms and soft, curly red hair. He was wearing overalls over a bright blue t-shirt that brought out the colour in his eyes.

Good lord. Jon suddenly understood why this man’s arrival had caused such a stir.

‘Umm,’ Jon said eloquently. ‘Can I, uhh… help you?’

‘Oh! I’m sorry,’ the most attractive man Jon had ever seen said. ‘I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Martin Blackwood–’

‘–the farmer, yes,’ Jon said. ‘I’ve been informed. Your arrival was quite notable, from what I’ve heard.’

‘Right.’ Martin wrung his hands nervously in front of him. ‘I’m sorry I haven't stopped by sooner. I wanted to say hello to everyone, but the farm is really overrun and I’ve been busy trying to clear it. It feels like I’ve spent the entire season doing nothing but breaking rocks and chopping down trees.’

Jon was suddenly accosted by the mental image of Martin’s arms swinging an axe into a tree with enough force to actually fell it. The thought left him a little lightheaded, and he had to surreptitiously lean against the shelf behind him to steady himself.

‘I’m sorry,’ Martin said again, ‘but I’m not actually sure who you are?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Jon said. ‘I’m Jonathan Sims, the Head Librarian and, ah, I would be the Museum Curator as well, but…’ Jon gestured awkwardly at the empty display shelves all around them. ‘Unfortunately we don’t currently have anything to curate.’

‘What happened?’ Martin asked, as he stepped further into the room to take in the full expanse of empty displays.

‘I’m afraid the previous Head Librarian and Curator stole our entire collection of artefacts and mineral samples when she left,’ Jon said. ‘Along with almost two dozen books.’

‘That’s awful! Why would anyone do that?!’ Martin seemed very genuinely distressed by the idea.

‘I truly cannot explain why Gertrude Robinson did anything,’ Jon said. ‘This all happened a very long time ago. There’s rumours that she ran away to the desert and started some sort of underground casino.’

‘Really? Is it true?’

‘I wish,’ Jon said grimly. ‘If so, I might have a chance of tracking her down so I can give her a piece of my mind and demand the return of the collection. Instead, the best I can do is try to persuade Elias to funnel some resources into rebuilding it. As you can see, I have been… quite unsuccessful in this.’

‘Is there anything I could do?’

Jon shrugged. ‘The museum has an open donations policy, if anyone should happen to find any artefacts or minerals, but so far no one has–’

‘Oh!’ Martin interrupted. ‘You mean like this?’

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rock embedded with pale green crystals that seemed to glow faintly when they caught the light.

Jon was stunned. ‘Wh–where did you…?’

‘It was just inside of a geode that I found when I was tilling a new field,’ Martin said sheepishly. ‘I don’t even know what it is. I actually brought it here because I was hoping you could help me identify it?’

‘Yes, of course I can do that, just wait here a moment.’

Jon bustled past Martin and back into the Library proper. He knew that there was a book for identifying minerals somewhere near the back…

Unfortunately, when he found it, he saw it was on the very top shelf. He frowned up at it, then jumped slightly when he realised that Martin had followed him and was standing right beside him.

‘I’ll just have to fetch a stool,’ Jon said.

Before he could take so much as a step, Martin casually stretched up, pulled the book off the shelf and handed it to Jon.

Not trusting himself to speak, Jon opened the book and busied himself with flipping through the pages. Finally, he found what he was looking for.

‘Alamite,’ Jon read. ‘It’s distinctive fluorescence makes it a favourite among rock collectors.’

‘That’s really cool,’ Martin said, considering the rock in his hands. As he shifted it slightly from side-to-side, it cast a shine of refracted light across his face, illuminating his freckles.

Jon swallowed.

Martin looked away from the rock and met Jon’s eyes. ‘So I can donate this to you?’

‘If you like,’ Jon said, working very hard to keep his voice even. ‘I’m, uh, afraid I can’t pay you anything…’

‘Of course not,’ Martin said. ‘It’s a donation.’

He placed the rock onto the open page of the book that Jon was still holding.

‘Yes, well, if you find anything else interesting, I will happily identify it for you,’ Jon said.

Martin smiled. ‘That sounds great! I’m sure I’ll see you again soon Jon.’

As the farmer left, Jon found himself sincerely hoping that would be the case.

SUMMER, Year 1

Jon hoped for it, but he didn’t actually expect it. Jon assumed that Martin was only being polite. Surely the farmer would be too busy… farming… to come by the Library with any sort of regularity.

But as Spring faded into Summer, Martin returned to the Library over and over again. He was usually in a couple of times a week, often with new artefacts or minerals to donate to the museum’s suddenly growing collection, sometimes with books that he had apparently found buried all over Stardew Valley.

What had driven Gertrude to steal books from the Library only to bury them in seemingly random spots all over the place, Jon could not even begin to guess. Still, he was very glad to have them returned, even if he did have to dedicate a lot of time to repairing and restoring the dirt-damaged pages and bindings.

Currently, Jon was working on the most recent tome that Martin had recovered (Marriage Guide for Farmers). He carefully cleaned each individual page free of dirt with a soft brush while Martin watched. For some reason, Martin had started hanging around the library after he’d dropped things off, taking the time to chat with Jon about his farm and the things he had discovered while exploring the valley. Jon had grown used to having Martin present while he catalogued his donations and wrote up placards to accompany their displays in the Museum. It was nice to have someone to talk to while he worked. Jon hadn’t realised how empty the Library was, most of the time.

‘I, uh, I wouldn’t mind borrowing that, once it’s back in circulation,’ Martin said. ‘Assuming you’re ever willing to let any of these books out of your sight ever again, that is.’

‘Of course,’ Jon said. ‘They are library books, after all. They’re no use to anyone if they can't be read.’

‘True,’ Martin agreed.

‘However, I am considering attaching a bookplate,’ Jon added. ‘Something to the effect of: From the library of Stardew Valley. Please do not bury me.'

Martin laughed and Jon couldn't stop himself from smiling. Martin had such a lovely laugh.

‘Why did you come here, Martin?’ Jon asked.

Martin frowned. ‘To drop off the book…?’

‘No, I mean, why did you come to Stardew Valley?’ The question had been simmering away in the back of Jon’s mind for weeks now, waiting for an opportunity to be asked. Now seemed like as good a time as any.

Martin immediately grew serious. ‘I guess I was… looking for a change. Before I came here, I was trapped in this really terrible job. I thought a lot about coming out here and taking over Grandpa's old farm, but… my mother wasn't well and I couldn’t be sure that I would be able to support her and manage the farm at the same time, so I just… stayed.’

‘That sounds like a very difficult situation,’ Jon said. ‘What made you change your mind?’

Martin grimaced. ‘My mother… passed.’

Oh god. Was Jon capable of getting through a single conversation without ramming his entire foot into his mouth?

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said quickly.

‘Thank you,’ Martin said, automatically. He hesitated for a second, looking unsure, before continuing. ‘If I’m being honest, it was sort of a relief? I know that sounds awful… I did love my mum, but she was suffering for such a long time, and after she was gone I guess I just… I realised that I could make decisions for myself now. I could do something just for me, to make myself happy.’

Oh.

‘Are you happy now?’ Jon asked quietly.

Martin smiled a little sheepishly. I'm working on it. Did I tell you I might be getting cows soon?’

‘No you didn’t, but I would love to hear all about it,’ Jon said, glad to follow the change in topic away from the troubled waters he had accidentally steered them into.

Martin apparently felt the same, because the tension started to bleed out of his shoulders as he elaborated.

‘Yeah, I was saving up for a barn, but then I realised I would need some silos first.’

‘Why's that?’

‘Because I'll need time to get them full of hay before winter. I need to make sure I have enough feed put away for my chickens, as well as any cows I might get.’

‘That shouldn't be too challenging,’ Jon said. ‘You'll have all of fall to grow feed.’

‘Yeah, but according to Tim, fall is the season I should be focusing on highly profitable crops,’ Martin said. ‘So I'd like to get the silos filled now. It’s just taking longer than I would like because I've been spending so much time in the mines lately.’

‘You what?’ Jon said sharply. He looked up from the book he was restoring, ignoring it completely in favour of glaring at Martin. ‘What did you just say?’

‘Umm… I’ve been focused on mining?’ Martin said, clearly confused.

‘What on earth are you doing that for?’ Jon demanded. ‘Don't you know the mines are dangerous?’

‘Yes Jon, I am very aware of that,’ Martin said. ‘Adelard warned me when I joined the Adventurer’s Guild–’

‘What are you talking about? I thought you were a farmer?’

‘I am,’ Martin said. ‘I've just been doing some exploring in my spare time, that's all.’

‘But why? What would possess you to go digging through the mines?’

‘I don’t…’ Martin was looking at Jon like he was speaking another language. He gestured helplessly towards the museum. ‘Jon, where did you think I was finding all of these?’

Jon looked at the collection of artefacts and minerals that Martin had brought him with absolute horror. Gerry said that the mines were filled with monsters; slimes and skeletons and ghosts, and all manner of things that Jon simply refused to believe in the existence of. Despite all reason, Jon’s head was suddenly filled with the image of Martin being torn apart by some kind of horrible creature, just because Jon mentioned that he wished the museum had an Ancient Drum.

As it turned out, Jon actually might be willing to let go of some of his scepticism if that was what it took to keep Martin safe. Not that he would admit that in front of Gerry of course. He would never let Jon live it down.

‘Please promise me that you won’t ever go back into the mines,’ Jon said.

‘What? But what about the collection? Don't you want it to be restored?’

‘I couldn't give a damn about the collection. I'd rather see it all dumped into the ocean than see you at the bottom of some miserable cave with your neck broken,’ Jon said fiercely. ‘If you come back here with any more donations I will be very upset.’

Martin had turned a shade of red that rivalled his hair.

‘Well, what if I just like having an excuse to visit the Library?’ Martin said quietly. He was fidgeting as he spoke, not meeting Jon's eyes.

‘You don't need an excuse to visit,’ Jon said seriously.

‘I…don't?’ Martin looked up at him with an expression on his face that Jon wasn’t sure how to interpret.

‘Of course not. This is a public building. Anyone may visit at any time.’

‘Ha… sure,’ Martin said. ‘I guess I'm being silly. I just get kinda anxious sometimes, I suppose?’

‘Don't be absurd,’ Jon said sternly, ‘you have nothing to be anxious about.’

‘Oh yeah, Mister I Don't Do Festivals?’ Martin said, raising his eyebrows as he spoke. ‘I haven't even seen you in the Stardrop Saloon.’

‘I am very busy,’ Jon said, looking away from Martin again to refocus on the book.

‘Still, I'd be glad to see you there sometime. Will you at least think about it?’

‘I will,’ Jon lied.

‘Okay, well I guess I’ll, uh, see you later then? Martin said, sounding uncertain. When Jon just nodded, Martin turned to leave. He had almost reached the door to the Library when Jon called out after him.

‘Martin, I mean it. About the mines. I don't want anything to happen to you on my account.’

‘Alright, I promise,’ Martin said, turning back to face Jon. ‘I won't go into the mines again. I might still be able to help with the collection, though. I dig up geodes on the farm all the time, and Peter’s told me that he’s found all sorts of interesting things while fishing. He's been trying to get me to join him, keeps saying he needs to keep the art of fishing alive.’

‘That's perfectly acceptable,’ Jon said. ‘As long as you are safe.’

FALL, Year 1

After that conversation, Martin's donations to the museum decreased drastically. Jon didn’t mind, however, because his visits actually increased. Apparently now that he was not spending any of his time mining, Martin had more energy to focus on expanding his fields and Somewhere Else farm was flourishing for it. Martin came by often to tell Jon all about the new crops he was growing, how his animals were doing and his plans for the future.

In the final week of fall, Martin rushed into the Library more excited than Jon had ever seen him.

'I've figured out how to grow tea bushes on my farm,’ he said, brandishing a thermos and two camp mugs at Jon.

‘Congratulations,’ Jon said dryly.

Martin’s enthusiasm could not be deterred. ‘Thanks! Unfortunately they only bloom at the end of each season.' Martin grimaced. ‘I really wish I had worked that one out sooner. Unless I can get my greenhouse repaired during winter, which I doubt, this will be the only batch I can brew this year.’

He placed the mugs down in front of Jon and opened the thermos, pouring the tea.

‘I wanted you to be the first to try it,’ Martin said.

Jon frowned at him curiously. ‘Why me?’

Martin turned bright red at that question, and stuttered as he tried to answer. Jon was immediately horrified at the thought of making Martin think he wasn’t grateful.

‘Not that I don't want to!’ he said hurriedly. ‘It's been ages since I had a decent cup of tea. I would love to try yours.'

‘Ah– alright then,’ Martin said, a distinctly strangled note to his voice. ‘I hope you like it?’

It was easily the best cup of tea Jon had ever had in his life.

WINTER, Year 1

The only social activity outside of the Library that Jon engaged with on any sort of regular basis was a fortnightly RPG night with Gerry. Tonight they finally beat Solarion Chronicles: The Game, although Gerry’s warrior tragically lost her life in the final bossfight.

Despite the freezing winter weather, there was a certain ritual that must be observed when one of their characters died in a game. Jon and Gerry pulled on their coats and headed outside, trekking through the snow towards the mountain lake.

Gerry flicked his lighter open and held it to the edge of his character sheet. It caught and burned quickly, the rising flames causing illuminated shadows to flicker on Gerry’s hand. It made the many eye tattoos on his fingers look like they were blinking.

‘Goodnight, Tiddies Von Smackya-wan,’ Gerry said. ‘You will be sorely missed.’

Jon patted him on the shoulder. ‘She’s in a better place now.’

‘Yeah, in the fucking lake,’ Gerry said, as he dropped the final scraps of paper into the icy water before the flames could reach his fingers.

They retreated from the shore of the lake towards the house, but by mutual agreement didn’t go back inside immediately, preferring to brave the chill for a little longer to smoke.

If it weren’t for the comfortable silence that fell between himself and Gerry, Jon might have missed the faint sound of voices echoing around the other side of the house, from the direction of Sasha’s bedroom.

‘Is that Martin?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ Gerry said. ‘Sash invited him over to check out her telescope.’

‘Oh,’ Jon said.

‘...Did you want to go say hi?’ Gerry asked slowly.

‘What? No, of course not. I don’t want to interrupt.’ Jon dropped his cigarette stub into the snow and ground it out with his heel with what was probably an unnecessary amount of force.

‘Right…’ Gerry said sceptically. ‘So, back inside then?’

‘Hmm? Oh, yes. I suppose.’

As they climbed back down the stairs towards Gerry’s room, Jon tried to push down his sudden spike of irritation long enough to ask a question which would hopefully sound casual.

‘So… have Sasha and Martin been spending a lot of time together then?’

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Gerry said. ‘I think they're getting pretty close.’

Jon scowled. He couldn’t have articulated exactly why that made his stomach twist so unpleasantly. It was good that Martin spent time with Sasha. She was perfectly lovely, and Jon wanted Martin to have lots of friends. He deserved that.

‘Martin’s really settled into the community. He’s pretty well-liked these days,’ Gerry said. He sat down on his bed with his back pressed against the wall, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.

Normally, Jon would have joined him, but right now he felt too agitated to relax. Instead he started pacing back and forth across the basement.

‘Well, good for him,’ he said.

Without opening his eyes, Gerry said, ‘In my opinion, if someone wanted to make a move on Martin, they should probably do it sometime soon.’

‘I suppose so,’ Jon snapped. He really didn’t want to think about the likelihood of Sasha asking Martin out.

‘You, Jon, I’m talking about you,’ Gerry said flatly. He had opened his eyes now, and was glaring at Jon. ‘You should ask Martin out.’

The twisted feeling in Jon’s stomach coiled itself even tighter.

‘I’ll think about it,’ Jon said, and Gerry buried his face in his hands and groaned.

SPRING, Year 2

The fact that the awful, twisted feeling in his gut hadn’t gone away ever since he saw Martin and Sasha together had nothing to do with why Jon finally decided to accept Gerry's standing invitation to come to the Egg Festival with him.

Of course it didn’t.

But it was hardly Jon’s fault if the first thing he saw when he crossed the north bridge into Pelican Town was Martin and Sasha moving side-by-side through the crowd together, both holding large baskets at their sides.

At once, all of Jon’s determination to march directly into the town square wilted away to nothing. Instead, he slunk away towards the south of town to find Gerry, who was (predictably) smoking a cigarette in the graveyard. Less predictably, he was chatting with Tim, who was wearing a bright, egg-patterned shirt and had Danny sitting on top of his shoulders.

‘Look Tim, it’s Jon!’ Danny announced loudly, pointing towards Jon as he approached.

‘Yeah, bud, I see him,’ Tim said. ‘Don’t pull my hair though.’

Danny released his grip on his brother’s hair to wave enthusiastically at Jon. Jon gave a half-hearted wave back as he sidled into place next to Gerry.

Without even looking, Gerry wordlessly offered Jon his cigarettes and lighter, which Jon took gratefully. The familiar motions of placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it helped ease some of the unbearable tension he was feeling at being outside and in a new social situation.

As Jon handed the cigarettes and lighter back, Gerry said, ‘Danny was just telling me that all of the eggs for today’s festival came from their chickens.’

‘Is that so?’ Jon said. ‘They must have been working very hard.’

‘They were,’ Danny agreed cheerfully. ‘And Tim and I got to help paint all the eggs for the Egg Hunt!’

‘That sounds like fun,’ Jon said to Danny, before addressing Tim, ‘Although I can’t imagine it left you with much time to plan how you’ll try to spike the punch this year?’

‘Alas, the Great Punch Heist is on hold this year,’ Tim said dramatically. ‘I’ve got to keep my wits about me if I’m going to help Danny win the Egg Hunt. Speaking of, what do you think, bro? Do you think we should go and get ready?’

‘Yes!’ Danny cried, bouncing up and down with excitement.

‘Catch you later guys,’ Tim said, before heading off towards the town centre with his brother.

As they left, Gerry leaned in towards Jon and spoke in a low voice.

‘You didn’t know this, so I don’t want you to freak out, I’m just giving you a heads up for next time.’

‘Okay…?’ Jon said slowly.

‘About a month ago, Tim was hospitalised with severe alcohol poisoning,’ Gerry said. ‘He’s been sober ever since.’

‘Oh no,’ Jon looked towards where Tim had disappeared into the crowd. ‘I have to go apologise–’

He tried to follow Tim but was immediately stopped by Gerry’s firm hand on his shoulder.

‘I wouldn’t do that in the middle of the festival,’ he said calmly.

‘Yes, you’re right, of course not,’ Jon said. ‘That would be foolish.’

‘I’m sure he didn’t take it personally,’ Gerry reassured him. ‘The punch spiking heist has been a running joke for years now.’

Jon winced. ‘In hindsight, that should probably have been a clue that Tim needed help.’

‘Hindsight’s twenty-twenty,’ Gerry agreed grimly.

‘But he’s doing better?’

Gerry shrugged. ‘As far as I’m aware. He hasn’t really spoken to me about it, this is all coming second-hand from Sasha. She’s been seeing him a lot at the clinic lately.’

As though the sound of her name was enough to summon her from the aether, Sasha suddenly rounded the corner of the Stardrop Saloon and spotted Jon and Gerry.

‘Hey Jon!’ she called out as she approached. ‘It’s nice to see you out and about! You don’t usually come to these things.’

Jon just made a non-committal sort of noise in reply, taking a long drag on his cigarette to avoid having to form actual words.

‘Here, this is for you Gerry,’ Sasha said. She reached into her basket and handed Gerry a jar of jam. ‘I’m helping Martin give these out. He made enough for everyone in town. Isn’t that sweet?’

Jon leaned over to get a closer look at the jar. It had a label on it declaring that the jam inside was made from fresh strawberries grown locally at Somewhere Else farm.

‘It’s very sweet,’ Gerry agreed. ‘Martin’s a really great guy.’

His last comment was directed pointedly at Jon, but Jon ignored him and Sasha didn’t seem to notice.

‘So great,’ Sasha agreed. ‘He’s really changed things in the valley. Anyway, I have to go, I need to finish handing these out before the Egg Hunt starts. I’m supposed to meet Tim and Danny.’

‘Uh, Sasha?’ Jon called as she turned to leave. ‘Don’t I get some jam?’

‘Oh, Jon! Gosh, I’m sorry, you must think I’m so rude!’ Sasha laughed. ‘Martin told me about a dozen times that you were the only one who wasn’t supposed to be given strawberry jam. He said he has a special one that he made just for you. Okay, gotta run!’

She waved goodbye and headed back towards the town proper.

‘Hmm. A special jam that Martin made just for you,’ Gerry said meaningfully. ‘Isn’t that interesting?’

‘Shut up,’ Jon said, ignoring the way that his face suddenly felt incredibly warm. He was staring at the jar of jam in Gerry’s hand, seemingly unable to take his eyes off it.

‘Oh for pity’s sake, just go,’ Gerry said.

Jon finally tore his eyes away from the jam to glance nervously toward the crowd of people in the town centre. He could pick out Agnes’s shock of fiery red hair and Peter Lukas’s tall form, complete with his sea captain’s hat. There was no sign of Martin.

‘I’m not sure I should–’

‘–GO,’ Gerry insisted. He placed a hand on Jon’s back and gave him a firm shove out of the graveyard. ‘You’re going to be useless until you find him, so just go do it.’

Somewhat emboldened, Jon decided to avoid the main press of people and see if he could find Martin in the direction of the general store. Luckily, he saw him almost immediately, having an animated conversation with the Spiral siblings.

Jon knew them by sight, even if he had never really spoken to them. Helen worked at the Stardrop Saloon, and Michael was notable for his mass of curly blond hair and the camera he always seemed to have around his neck. Neither of them frequented the library.

Unwilling to go and interrupt a conversation with two virtual strangers, Jon hung back until he heard Elias loudly announcing that the Egg Hunt was about to begin. Helen and Michael both left and Martin would have followed them, but Jon hurried forward and caught his arm.

‘Jon!’ Martin said, his face breaking into a wide smile at the sight of him. ‘I didn't expect to see you here! I've never seen you at a festival before.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Jon said nervously. ‘I am making an attempt to, ah, come out of my shell as it were.’

‘That's great,’ Martin said happily. ‘Actually, this is perfect. I was going to bring this to the Library myself after the festival, but seeing as you're here…’

Martin pulled the final jar of jam out of his now empty basket. Jan could see immediately that it was definitely not strawberry. For one thing, it was a bright, clear blue, and for another, it was missing the label claiming to be made from strawberries grown at Somewhere Else farm. This jar’s label was handwritten and simply read, For Jon.

Jon swallowed, overwhelmed by something he can't quite put a name to. Distantly, he was aware of the sounds of children screaming and racing around searching for eggs.

'This is… Martin, l–’

'I know the colour looks a little crazy,' Martin said, ‘but I promise it's delicious. It's made from that seed you gave me, when I found the fossilised ancient seed?’

‘Yes, I remember. Martin, this is wonderful, but I can't possibly accept it,’ Jon said, rubbing his thumb over where Martin has labelled the jar with his name. ‘I… I don’t know… surely this must be cutting into your profits for the farm?’

There was a great cheer behind him. In the town square, Jon looked over to see Danny happily shove a large straw hat onto his head before Tim and Sasha each took hold of one of his hands and swung him up into the air.

‘Oh, don't worry about that,’ Martin said cheerfully. He seemed oblivious to the commotion behind him, entirely focused on Jon as if the two of them existed in their own private world. ‘The farm is doing great. I have whole fields of strawberries growing now. You should come by sometime, if you ever take a day off from the Library.’

‘I… I’d like to,’ Jon said thoughtfully. Then he nodded, convincing himself as he said the words aloud. ‘Yes, Martin, I will.’

The very next day, Jon closed the library at noon and went to visit Somewhere Else farm. As he walked down the path past the bus stop west of town, he thought that it really was ridiculous that Martin had lived here for over a year now and Jon had never once visited.

When he arrived, he went straight to the homestead and knocked on the door. Unfortunately, there was no answer. Jon looked out over the expansive fields of strawberries, tea bushes and sky blue ancient berries, hoping for a glimpse of Martin somewhere amongst the crops, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Jon spotted a small grey cat basking in a bright patch of sunlight only a few feet away from him.

Martin had never mentioned owning a cat!

Jon walked over and crouched down next to the cat, saying hello and seeing if it would be willing to make friends. He was wearing what looked to be a homemade leather collar with The Earl Grey printed neatly on it. The Earl Grey was apparently very amenable to becoming best friends with Jon, so he spent several joyful minutes petting his soft grey fur and scratching his ears. Eventually the cat seemed to grow restless from all of the attention, rolling onto his feet and hurrying away from Jon to stalk a nearby butterfly.

Jon stood up and looked around. There was still no sign of Martin anywhere, so he decided to explore for a while.

Just beyond the fields of crops there was the coop and barn that Jon had heard so much about, surrounded by a large field of tall green grass. As Jon approached the fence he could see some very good cows, but also goats, ducks, a small flock of brown and white chickens, and… a long blue feather poking up out of the grass?

Jon frowned, stretching up to balance on his toes and lean over the fence, trying to see the mysterious animal better.

‘Is that a blue chicken?’ he said.

‘She was a gift from Tim,’ Martin called from behind him.

Jon startled so badly that he almost toppled forward over the fence, but luckily he managed to catch himself just in time.

Martin was walking towards him from a path that led away from the south of his farm. In one hand he held a fishing pole slung over his shoulder, and in the other he was holding a line strung with several large brown fish.

‘Hello Martin,’ Jon said. ‘My apologies for, ah, trespassing.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Martin said warmly as he joined Jon beside the fence. ‘You’re always welcome here. Standing invitation, just like at the Library.’

‘Thank you,’ Jon said. ‘I would like to come by more often.’

‘Please do,’ Martin said. He leaned his fishing pole against the fence so that he had one hand free. ‘Here, let me introduce you to the ladies.’

He started pointing to all the different animals in the field, giving Jon their names. The poultry (Rooibos, Assam, Sencha, Lapsang, Keemun, Ceylon and the blue chicken Peppermint) all kept their distance, but the cows and goats obviously knew Martin well enough to be comfortable coming up to the fence for pets and attention. Jon was introduced to Masala, Matcha, Chamomile, Darjeeling, Hibiscus and English Breakfast. Darjeeling was his favourite by far. She was a large brown cow with a very soft nose and a big white star on her forehead, and she nuzzled into Jon’s hand with a gentleness that seemed entirely at odds with her size.

Eventually, Martin said that he would have to bring the fish inside and refrigerate them, so they said goodbye to the animals and headed back towards the homestead.

‘I didn’t know chickens came in blue,’ Jon said as they walked.

‘They usually don't,’ Martin said. ‘This is a special breed that Tim and Danny have been working on together. They’re hoping that if they can start selling them outside of the valley, Tim will be able to quit JojaMart.’

‘A worthy goal indeed,’ Jon said.

Martin grinned as he held his front door open for Jon. ‘I’d certainly recommend it.’

‘I suppose I’ve just… never seen anything like Peppermint before,’ Jon said, as he took a seat at Martin’s kitchen table.

Martin finished piling the fish into the fridge before joining Jon. ‘I honestly couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve thought that since I arrived here,’ Martin said. ‘This valley is a really magical place.’

For once, Jon didn’t feel like arguing that point. Instead, he found that he rather hoped it was true.

Not that he would be willing to say that out loud, of course. It would just be another thing that Gerry would never let him hear the end of.

‘I have something for you,’ he said instead.

‘You do?’

‘Yes, I– I thought you might like it,’ Jon said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the large rusty key he had brought with him when he left the Library earlier. Martin took it from him and examined it, turning it over in his hands with an unreadable expression on his face.

‘It’s been in the library for over a hundred years,’ Jon said quickly, unable to bear the silence. ‘It was one of the only things that Gertrude left behind. I’m afraid I don’t know what it unlocks, but, umm… maybe you can find a use for it?’

Martin looked up and met Jon’s eyes. Jon’s breath caught.

‘Thank you Jon,’ he said. ‘This is great.’

He set the key down on the table between them and Jon realised that he was completely at a loss for what to say next. He hadn’t thought further ahead than this when he had decided to give Martin the key.

‘I was wondering,’ Martin said slowly, ‘if you were planning on going to the Flower Dance this year? Seeing as you were at the Egg Festival, I mean.’

‘Oh, ahh… I hadn’t planned on it actually,’ Jon said hesitantly. ‘Elias has made it very clear that it is traditional for all of the bachelors and bachelorettes who attend to participate in the dance. I would find that terribly awkward without a partner.’

There was a beat of incredibly heavy silence between them until finally, with a feeling not unlike Gerry’s hand on his back shoving him out of the graveyard, Jon opened his mouth and said, ‘Unless you would find yourself amenable to being–’

At the exact same time, Martin had also started talking. ‘Hypothetically speaking, what if I were your–’

They cut themselves off at the same time and blinked at each other for a moment, before bursting into laughter.

By the time they had both calmed down, Martin was smiling at Jon like he was the most magical thing in the valley. He reached across the table between them and took both of Jon’s hands in his own. Jon felt his heart start beating faster in his chest in response to the warm contact of Martin’s skin.

‘Jon,’ Martin said seriously, ‘would you like to accompany me to the Flower Dance?’

‘I would be delighted,’ Jon said without a moment of hesitation.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to think about it. Martin’s smile was enough to make him sure.

@jonmartinweek

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dragonsareourfuture · 3 years

Note

Thank you for answering! Could I just have some short head canons on how the Wammy house boys (specifically Near and L) would cheer up their s/o after a hard/tiring day? I just had some money stolen which kinda sucks so it would mean a lot! Thank you again!! I love your writing for both Obey Me and Death Note!

Wammy Boys When Their s/o Has A Bad Day

OH NO DUDE I’m sorry that happened to you!! These are a bit late but of course I can whip up some headcanons! Thanks so much!

Near

- Probably doesn’t even realize you’re upset at first.

- But he’s honestly just very soft when you come home in general so it doesn’t really matter. You have his comfort either way.

- It will probably be later into the evening when he asks you to do something and you have to explain to him that you’ve just had a tough day and would appreciate if you could get some time to just lay around and not worry about anything.

- “Alright. When do you think you’ll get to it, then?”

- Explain to him again that you need to relax. Please don’t snap at him though, he doesn’t know what he did wrong. He’s just trying to plan ahead.

- Once he understands that you relaxing means you actually don’t want to do anything at all, he’ll propose that you put on a movie and play a board game together.

- if you start to lose he’ll make up fake rules that switch everything around so you win or, if that feels unfair to you, he’ll straight up just let you win and not tell you.

- Ugh that little smile he gives you. ‘S too cute. You instantly start to feel better when he sends it your way. That dumb goofy lil grin thing he does. Wow.

- It gets you calmed down/comfortable enough to talk about your shitty day and Near will listen to every single word. He’s the type to offer advice afterwards and recap the story to make sure you know he listened attentively. He wants to make sure you feel heard.

- L’s like Near in the way that he struggles to tell that there is something wrong unless you make it incredibly obvious or outright say that you’ve had a rough day.

- When he figures it out he’s just like “Oh. That’s unfortunate. Is there anything you need?”

- He may seem like he doesn’t care but please know that’s not the case. He genuinely wants to know if you need something so that you can feel better and, believe me, if there is he will get it for you.

- Asks Watari to make you “cheer up cake”, which is basically just your favorite flavor. If you’re not a cake fan (how dare) Watari will bring you whatever strikes your fancy.

- L tries to be more empathetic by thinking of times when he felt stuck during a case. Remembering the anguish he felt during those times helps when he’s trying to comfort you.

- “It feels bad now, I know. But you’ll make it out of this. And when you do, you won’t have to feel the hardships of today ever again. Of course, you’ll have to feel the burdens of other hardships later on in life, but that’s later.”

- Turns off the lights if you have a headache so the room is easier on your eyes. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, he’s worked in the dark before.

- Before he even thinks about starting on his work again he makes sure you’re comfy and relaxed.

Mello

- He completely understands the feeling of coming home and thinking “wow what a shitstorm of a day”. He empathizes with you a ton.

- He can’t really verbalize that though. He doesn’t like getting all mushy and talking about feelings (as much as it would benefit him).

- So when Mello senses that you’re angry, bummed, or just plain exhausted, he’ll say the first thing that comes to mind, “Who do I have to fight to make you feel better?”

- Give him someone to fight and he’ll actually start putting on his jacket but will immediately stop and wrap it around you instead if you say you were kidding (If you weren’t he’d actually go beat the shit out of someone like he wasn’t joking either).

- He pulls you over to the nearest couch or bed so you can get comfortable, turns the fan on/off to make it the temperature you prefer, and insists you keep his jacket since you like it so much. If you comment about how attentive and caring he’s being he’ll just say “I know” and move on. Truly does show how he’s more of an actions than words kinda guy, though.

- He then asks if you want to talk about it. If you do, he is the most attentive listener and hype man, it’s unbelievable. if you start ranting, he’s there to agree with your points, listen to your worries, and trash talk anyone who treated you poorly.

Matt

- The moment you walk through the door he’s asking you to sit in his lap and watch him play games/play games with him. He’s hoping the relaxing atmosphere of watching him or the amusement of playing will distract you from whatever’s going on.

- He’ll make casual conversation with you that slowly turns to questions about what happened. You barely see the change, so you answer him honestly.

- He might cook you some food. If heating up frozen food counts as “cooking”. He’s trying. It’s the thought that counts.

- Or if you want some distractions he’ll take you out to get food. He likes to people watch, so he’ll tell you the storylines he makes up for everyone at the restaurant.

- If staying inside is your jam, Matt will pick out a movie you both like and can quote by heart, hoping that the familiarity will ease you from your out of control day.

- His chill attitude really helps you relax from all the stress of the day.

380 notes · View notes

personasintro · 4 years

Text

universe | myg drabble

❥𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; you're his whole universe, you just don't know it yet – or him

❥𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: stalker au

❥𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: explicit language, stalking (obviously), yoongi is kinda creep, masturbating (he uses her panties)

❥𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 5.3k+

𝒂/𝒏: commissioned by the absolute sweetheart @minyoongail, thank you bub for being so patient with me (it took me like 2 months I think ?? to write this) I really hope you and everyone else enjoy this story!

𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | © 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)

It was a mere coincidence, something he had never expected to happen or notice during his daylife. But even that word doesn't sound right, not to his ears. If you look up the word itself it says – coincidence is a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent causal connection. This must've been something else, not some stupid coindidence and he calls it differently.

He believes it's all the universe's doing and it happened when he needed it the most. The clueless young man with an empty heart, who was just striding through the busy street in Daegu, just when the universe had decided to give him a sign – another chance maybe, as he likes to think – and he couldn't be more intrigued. There's a whole universe inside his mind and he's not ashamed of it.

The first time he saw you, he remembers how you caught his attention immediately despite you blending with the crowd. But there was something different, maybe it was the way you smiled at whoever you were calling with that time. He remembers vividly the grin that had stretched on your beautiful red lips, before you had to end the call because you went to the little coffee shop. On your way out, with a plastic cup of coffee in your hand, it's unfortunate how you hadn't noticed the guy going inside which slowly led to you bumping into him. It wasn't a disaster, no coffee was spilled and except the guy's frown and something he mumbled under his breath, nothing too bad happened. But then he had seen the little frown on your lips and the way your shoulder slumped, running your day. He couldn't take his eyes off you. And he wished to cross the road to fight that egoistic man, who made sure to give you one last glare before he scurried inside the coffee shop.

And that's how his days slowly went by. At the same hour, you'd always visit that coffee shop with the same order every time, apart of that time when you bought a croissant that one time. You weren't there at the weekends, which meant you weren't working and the small coffee shop was on your way to work. It had become your routine, as much as his, watching you across the street hidden by one of the trees. Not even once your eyes drifted his direction. It made it very easy to watch you from Monday to Friday, you being not aware of the attention you got from the man across the street.

But he got bored after two weeks of seeing the same thing, even though you had always been different each day. The same soft and sweet smile that melted his heart was worth waking up earlier to watch you. But he had become eager, curious about you and your life. That's why he had decided to follow you – across the street from the safe distance, so you wouldn't notice him – until you made your way into the building with a few stairs up to it. He didn't recognize the old building at first, that's why he pulled out his phone and through the maps, he found out there's an art studio. There's no way he could've gone inside without anyone questioning his presence there, nor he could've known if you're really there.

He had wished he knew your name, so he could've finally put a name to your beautiful face and features that couldn't seem to get out of his head.

The week after, he had found out – because of course, he was curious and eager to take another step, so he had followed you – that you live just around the corner in one of the apartment buildings. Unfortunately for him, the security system even in those old buildings is hard to get through, impossible even. And he wouldn't have done that, followed you inside. No, he's not crazy. What would he do if he got inside the building? That didn't make any sense.

He had to plan everything – so for the time being – he stepped away and walked away, your building slowly fading away.

But it's okay, he'll soon see you again. That's what he told himself, a tiny smirk making it onto his lips that were hidden behind the mask.

Universe has a funny way to mess around with people. Or it could be pure luck on Yoongi's side, but whatever it is in reality, it makes him beam in mischief. Who could've known that one time he doesn't avoid his only friend, the cards would play in favor for him. Surely, there had been a bit of grumbling which Jung Hoseok – his friend ever since they were kids – just couldn't accept and dragged Yoongi's ass in the nearest club. It's been awhile since he went among people, he's not the type to search for society and encounters with them. He's a lonely wolf, as you could say.

“See, you look cheered up!” his friend cuts off Yoongi's trail of thoughts, his eyes already set on something much more interesting, than his friend's loud voice that tries to be heard through the loud music. “Think of the pussy you can get tonight!”

In other times, Yoongi would've just shrugged and went along with his friend's words because yes, meaningless one night stands have become a part of Yoongi's antisocial life. He's still a man after all, he has his own needs and even though he doesn't search for people's touch, sex usually involves that.

His friend is completely clueless, thinking Yoongi is cheerful because there's a chance he'll get laid tonight with no strings attached, just like Yoongi prefers. He's not the type to date, to love someone and that's why Hoseok's plan of getting Yoongi out of his small apartment to live a little, goes well.

Little does he know that Yoongi could care less about his friend's secret plan or whatever his true intentions are. Because there's you standing just a few meters away from him, completely clueless to Yoongi's existation but he's not mad at you. And he has the urge to laugh at the situation because after all, the universe must be real. It brought you up to him without him even trying, even though he had been wondering what you're doing on your Saturday night.

At first, he didn't know if it's you but then you turned around and laughed at something, probably what one of your friends said and he could see that beautiful smile which unfortunately, couldn't hear because of the music. Ever since then, he's been stealing a few glances at you, failing miserably in hiding his happiness at the sight of you. And when you suddenly grab the attention of one of your friends that's standing next to you, you excuse yourself and make your way through the crowd.

Without explaining himself, he knows what to do and his legs move on their own as he leaves his friend shouting his name in complete confusion, but Yoongi doesn't turn around. His eyes are solely set upon you and the thought that he can't get you out of his sight. Now it's his chance.

He watches you going inside the ladies' restroom, stopping just around the corner not to look creepy. He's not. He's not a creep, he would never enter ladies' restroom because then what? How would he explain what he's doing there? There's a pinch of annoyance at your friends and how they let you go all alone. Don't they know it's dangerous for you to go alone? Especially in the clubs full of horny men. And the little black dress that you're wearing isn't helping at all. You're showing too much skin, you're drawing too much attention at yourself and he doesn't like that. He wants you all to himself.

But despite him criticizing your friends and their complete ignorance of your safety, it's better this way. He's here, he wouldn't let anything happen to you and it all makes it better to go with his plan. Now is his chance to have your eyes on him, to finally meet you.

When the restroom's door are being pushed open, his breath gets caught in his throat as he notices you delicately brushing your hands against the black fabric, trying to flatten the creases that are invisible to his eyes. Now is his chance. He uses your lack of attention, eyes focused downwards and makes his way towards you. This has to work. From what he could've seen during a few weeks of watching you, you managed to stumble and bump into a few people on your way to work. It always looked like you're rushing, probably stressed from whatever was waiting for you in that old creepy building that you work at. No matter how many times has that happened, you've always apologized and looked extremely sorry. And now, he's going to use that to his advantage. Well, his plan had been different and he wanted to do this in your favorite coffee shop, that you're visiting every morning during the week. But now that he has you so close to him, he can't wait any longer.

It happens quickly. Your lack of attention is a huge help, and Yoongi is prepared for the impact of your body colliding against his, which can't be hardly told about you. A soft gasp leaves your lips, but the impact isn't strong like Yoongi hoped it would be. Your shoulders bump into each other, but it's nothing painful and mindless 'sorry' leaves your mouth. Yoongi's plan is crashing down like a house of cards, watching you not even glancing at him as you make your way through the crowd again. His features automatically twist into a huge scowl, not appreciating your ignorance.

He's been watching over you this whole time, and this is how you repay him? Ignoring him and barely seeing the person you bump into? Okay, he had his own share with that but still – he expected something different to happen and it's causing his blood to boil. You're nowhere in sight, completely blending with people dancing on the floor. He can't feel his jaw hurting from how hard he's clenching it. Oh, how he wishes he could punish you. He'd have you on your knees begging him for forgiveness before you could utter a single word.

You're playing with him. You're lucky enough he likes the chase and games, even though he's not a patient person.

As he's getting back to Hoseok, his sharp eyes notice his friend is not alone and has a company right next to him. Getting nearer, the two guys exchange a friendly hug as the guy Yoongi doesn't know grins at Hoseok.

“Taehyung–ah!” Hoseok yells after the guy that turns around with a boxy grin, not noticing Yoongi's stare in the back. “Don't forget to text me!” Hoseok laughs, seeing the guy nod as he gives him a thumbs up before he walks away.

Yoongi's eyes don't leave Taehyung's figure, wondering who he is since he has never seen him before. He shouldn't be so surprised, Hoseok has many friends. Sometimes, he's wondering why Hoseok is still hanging out with himi, when he's the least social person out of all Hoseok's friends.

Once again, the universe proves to be on Yoongi's side and he can't help but grin, as he watches Hoseok's friend nearing the group of people, among them is you. Although, he really wants to punch the guy's face for touching the small of your back, especially when you smile at him and take the drink from his hands. The drink he failed to notice before.

What was the guy's name? Taehyung.

Surprise, surprise. The chase has only begun and he's already winning.

“Yah! Where did you go?” Hoseok's loud voice cuts him off, frowning at his friend that slowly looks at him.

Grinning, he licks his lips before he takes a shot of Hoseok's vodka. “Bathroom.” he says simply, smirking as he looks back at you.

For now, he'll leave you alone but still makes sure to glance at you every now and then. Making sure you're safe, of course.

And when Yoongi is finally in his small apartment, laying in his bed with phone clutched in his grasp, he has only one intention. Finding you isn't hard, Hoseok's facebook friends are public so it makes it easy to find your friend guy Taehyung. Unfortunately, his friends are private so it leaves him with another option. He browses every available photo of him, checking everyone who liked his photos while opening every profile. The guy's photos are somehow artistic, he's not a complete loser as Yoongi thought. Whenever he sees Taehyung's face on the screen of his phone, all he can think about is his hand on your back. Taking a deep breath, he continues in browsing through Taehyung's liked pictures until he gets what he wanted all along.

You.

And your name.

The sweet melody of pop music resounds through the walls of your modesty apartment, but even the littlest space in it doesn't hold you back from swaying your hips. Humming the tune, you put the last plate back to the kitchen cabinet as a soft knock meets the wood of your front door. You almost flinch back, wondering who the hell is knocking on your door in the evening when you're not expecting anyone. Turning off the music with your phone, you make your way towards the front door to see who's standing behind it.

When you open it, you don't expect to see a complete stranger who gives you a nervous grin as soon as your eyes meet. One thing you know, you've never seen him before and you wonder if he by any mistake mistook your door with someone else's. He's wearing all black, looking tough on the outside but his face is the exact opposite. He looks quite comfortable wearing a large hoodie and black sweatpants, and it's funny how your outfits almost match. Although, your one isn't matched and doesn't look half as good as his does. You're wearing one of the ugliest sweatpants you own because unfortunately, your washing machine broke down last week and the repairman is able to repair it in a few days. For now, you're stuck with unwashed clothes that could use a good washing but there's nothing you can do. You'll wait, you've enough clothes to wear – at least you hope.

“Hey,” he says, completely cutting you off from your little crisis of your broken washing machine. His voice is deep, yet holds a soft tone that makes him sound friendly and causes you to automatically smile.

“Hey,” you say back, repeating his words as you hug yourself with your arms. There's a curiosity in your eyes, the one he notices immediately and opens his mouth.

“Oh, I'm sorry you're probably wondering what am I doing here,” he chuckles, shaking his head at his absurdity that makes you grin in amusement. “I'm your new neighbor, I just moved in today… I was wondering if you have tomato sauce to borrow?”

Only now you notice the white slippers that he's wearing, confirming his words that in fact, he really is your new neighbor. The building is big enough for you not to know every single neighbor, but something tells you you won't forget this one.

His sharp eyes are so captivating, staring right into your soul as you can't help but gawk at your new neighbor. The little twitch of his lips shake you out of your short daze, blush spreading across your cheeks as you rub your forearms.

“Yeah, sure. Let me check it out,” you manage to say, tone light and friendly, trying to hide the fact that you seemed to be particularly interested in your neighbor. He looks young, probably your age – not that this is important. He's just a neighbor, right? “Uhh, come in.” you tell him, feeling like a douche if you'd just leave him in the hallway.

He opens his mouth slightly, but smiles at you when you open the door to give him enough space to come in. You let him close it, which he does gently as if he was scared to break them. It makes you grin, a grin that's hidden as soon as you turn around and tell him to follow you. Your apartment isn't big and the walk to your kitchen doesn't take long (literally five seconds) and you're not aware of your neighbor's curious eyes, and particular curiosity about the three pieces of art that are covered with sheer fabric, leaned against the wall.

“Are you an artist?” Your neighbor asks, voice thick with curiosity which causes you to turn around and follow his line of vision.

“Ah,” you gasp out, “No. Do I look like an artist?” you grin, causing him to do the same as his eyes dance with amusement.

“I don't know,” he muses, pursing his lips. “But you're probably interested in art.” he says, head nodding towards the art that's been sitting there for a few days now.

It's not like you regret letting him in, but you should've considered the fact that your place is a mess. You just hope he's not judging you, or thinks you're an alcoholic as you remember there's a wine bottle on your coffee table. You were about to drink it after you were done with cleaning the dishes. It was a long day…

To occupy your ridiculous worries (because he probably doesn't care what your place looks like), you do what he came here for and that is, to find a tomato sauce which you're not sure if you even have.

“You could say so,” you hum, rummaging through the pasta and different kinds of cans. “My friend is an artist, I'm just helping him to sell some of his paintings.”

He hums in response, his frown hidden from you as you're turned with your back to him.

“Are those for sale?” he asks, surprised when you turn around abruptly as sudden shine overtakes your features.

“Yes,” you answer, “Are you interested?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he hums, “Mind if I take a look?” he asks, your head already nodding.

“Of course, go ahead,” you tell him, seeing him walk towards the art while you stand on your tiptoes and pull out one of the cans. “Got it.” you mumble to yourself, surprised that yes, you've a tomato sauce which you never really use.

You walk to your neighbor, his brows pinched together as he stares at a piece of art. “This one's my favorite.” you comment, holding the can in your hands as he glances at you.

“It's pretty,” he replies, cocking his head to the side as he admires the art that portrays a galaxy. It's beautiful, the purple and turquoise splashes that look like stars create a perfect detail. “How much is it?”

“You--are you--I need to talk to my friend but I'm sure we could work something out.” you grin, not hiding your enthusiasm which your neighbor finds cute as he grins at you. He shows you a gummy smile that makes you just stare at him in complete awe, before you cough.

“Thanks, it'd be nice to have something that'll make the place more cozy. It looks like a complete disaster right now.” he jokes, causing you to giggle as you nod. You feel him.

“Sure,” you smile, staring at him for a moment as realization hits your face. “Oh, here. Found it.” you outstretch your arm to give him the tomato sauce he came here for.

It seems like realization hits his face as well, his mouth leaving a soft 'oh' as he takes it with a grateful smile. “Thank you, you're a lifesaver.”

You laugh at that, finding him cute how he said it. “It's just tomato sauce. What are you cooking?”

“Spaghetti,” he answers, “Well, thanks for this. I appreciate it.” he says as you both start walking towards the front door.

He opens the door, one hand clutching the doorknob while the other holds the can, before he turns to you. “I'm living just down the hall, number 017.” he informs you, your brows furrowing in confusion, wondering why he's telling you that.

Even though you make a mental note to remember this information. What? It's good to know.

“For the art?” he reminds you, cocking a brow at you. “You can just knock anytime, when you'll know the price.” he smiles, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” you nod, “I'll let you know.”

He smiles, thanking you for the tomato sauce (even assuring you that he'll buy you a new one tomorrow but you quickly decline that, telling him you aren't using it) as he steps out of your apartment and starts to back away, still facing you as you're grinning.

“I'm Y/N,” you call out to him, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so desperate. Your nerves ease up as he gives you a smile, the shitty lightening in the hallway shining against his black hair. “What's your name, new neighbor?”

He chuckles at your nickname, his tongue licking his bottom lip as your heart bursts with sparkles. How can someone be so cute, hot and handsome? You're completely swept away by him.

And you feel like a little kid, ears perked up and eyes wide as you almost stand on your tiptoes, trying to hear his answer. However, you don't realize it because you're too focused on him.

“Yoongi, my name's Yoongi.”

He can't believe it.

He can't believe how easy it was to get closer to you. Getting an apartment, rented apartment, was even easier and the fact you both live on the same floor, had to be another sign from the universe.

It just had to be. Right?

Yoongi is in the middle of cutting an onion when he hears a soft knock echoing around the walls of his quiet apartment. He'd usually put some music on, but his mind seems to be elsewhere. He's not interested in music like he used to be, all he can think about is you.

Wiping his hands with a dishcloth, he stumbles over some boxes that have been laying there for three days (ever since he moved in) before he gets to the front door. Just as he's gripping the doorknob, there's another knock resounding but it's louder this time. He snatches the door open, meeting you jumping in surprise as your eyes widen.

Oh, sweet love. You look so cute.

Even though you're wearing the same pair of sweatpants he saw you while borrowing a tomato sauce from you. A tomato sauce he never really needed, he just wanted an excuse to see you and funnily enough, tomato sauce was the first thing that crossed his mind.

Nothing matters because you're absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi,” you breathe out, chuckling trying to mask that soft pink shade your cheeks seem to have. “I'm sorry for interrupting you.” you add.

“Not at all,” he disagrees, slightly shaking his head. “How can I help you?” he smiles, heart wavering because he can't believe you just knocked on his door.

And this time he didn't have to come to you. You came to him.

“Well, I was just wondering if you're still interested in one of those paintings. I talked to my friend and he said he'll give you a little discount since you're my neighbor,”

Bullshit, your friend is probably glad someone wants to buy his painting. It's a typical move from you, to get him to buy it just because you said the discount word. But he can't blame you, well it's you. That's enough for him not to let common sense take a place in his mind. Plus, those paintings are like a barrier in your own little home.

“I mean… you totally don't have to buy it if you're not interested anymore.” you add, causing the corner of his mouth twitch. He's holding back a smile as he shakes his head.

“No, I'm totally interested,” In you, not in the painting. “You wanna come in?”

The sudden invite surprises you, but you don't hesitate as you nod before he opens the door further for you to come in.

“Thank you.” you tell him softly, looking around curiously as you see the mess in there.

There are a bunch of boxes, still unpacked and filling up the whole place but you can relate. Your place used to be such a mess too when you first moved in.

“Sorry about the mess, I still haven't unpacked most of my stuff,” he says, trailing behind you as you notice a small beige couch with a bunch of clothes draped all over it. “I need to wash my clothes.” he grins, the shade of red coating his cute pale cheeks as you give him a smile.

“Don't worry about it, my bedroom looks just the same. My washing machine broke down a few days ago and the repairman can't come to fix it this week, so I'm stuck wearing the same old, dirty and probably smelly clothes.”

That would explain you wearing the same dirty sweatpants, he thinks but that doesn't say out loud because like he said, you're beautiful no matter what.

“You don't smell,” he blurts out, causing you to raise your brows in surprise but an appreciative smile tugs onto your lips.

“That's good to know.” you chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Wait, are you becoming shy?

“But I could help, if you want...” he adds, interest lacing over your features as you look at him curiously. “With your clothes. I could wash them for you.”

“Oh, no. I've loads of it and I don't want to be a burden, I'm sure you've a lot of work with your own stuff.” you reject, waving your hand as if it's not a big deal but the clothes that are tossed around your whole bedroom are driving you crazy.

Still, your insides shiver with his kindness.

“You're no burden, I swear. At least I would repay you for that tomato sauce. Let me do this for you, my washing machine works just fine. You could go grab your stuff and bring it here, I'll wash it for you right now and meanwhile, we could talk about that painting.”

Shit, he's so good at persuading.

He sees the guilt and uncertainty on your face, but the way you're biting your lower lip he knows you're thinking of it. He's patient with you, offering you one of his soft smiles that you caught onto right away and he knows he's got you.

“Are you sure?” you ask unsurely, nibbling on your bottom lip some more which fuck, drives him insane.

He wishes he could bite into it, feeling your soft and plump lips that are bare with no lipstick on it, but god, are they beautiful. The most beautiful lips he has ever seen.

“Hundred percent.” he says, giving you another smile which this time, you mimic before a set of sentences of gratitude leaves out of your mouth.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You saved my life.” Oh God, how amazing his name sounds rolling out of your tongue.

He could listen to you saying it every day. Oh, how he wishes to hear you saying other stuff too, but no… he has to be patient.

“Don't mention it,” he smiles, “Thank you for the painting. I'll make sure to hang it up somewhere nice where everyone can see it.”

Bullshit. He never invites anyone to his home.

“You do that, maybe I'll stop by to admire it.” Did you just invite yourself? Oh my god, he can feel his heart jumping out of his chest.

“Feel free to do that anytime.” he smirks, giving you a nice view of his wink that he swears makes you gulp as you clutch your laundry basket with fresh and clean clothes in it.

You bid goodbye to him, in the form of a sweet smile and quick but nice wave of your free hand, before he painfully does the same and closes his front door. Three hours of constant talking was not enough for him. He wishes he could talk to you some more, to get to know you even more. Although, he did learn some new things about you. Things he couldn't find on the internet, or by simply watching you from the distance. For example, your parents live far away and you're their only child. They weren't too happy about you moving to a big city but they're supportive nevertheless. You don't share your daily struggles with them, like the problem with your washing machine for example, because according to your words, they would be too worried and think you can't handle and take care of yourself.

Well, one thing is sure. They don't have to worry about that too much. You've got him. He'll take care of you and help you with anything you'll need. For now, he's just your neighbor but as he pulls out his phone and sees a friend request from you, Yoongi knows he's winning.

Pulling out peach colored panties out of his pocket, the same ones he sneakily hid inside of his pants before you could notice. Plopping onto the couch, on the same spot you were sitting on just a few minutes ago, he swears he can still feel your warmth and scent lingering on the cheap furniture. He unzips his pants, already pulling out his hardening cock as he takes a sniff of your used panties. They're cotton, not special and too sexy but he rolls his eyes back at the scent of you. Fuck, you smell so amazing. He wishes he could taste you on his tongue, pleasure you until you're screaming his name and cumming thanks to him repeatedly. He has never gotten this hard so quick, his erected length is gripped by his veiny and big hand as he's already pumping himself. Imagining how you'd sound if he pounds into you, making sure every one of neighbors hears your moan, so they know you're his. He puts the piece of fabric inside of his mouth, the exact spot where your pussy was rubbing the whole day, wetting it with his saliva as he sucks the fabric. He's close, so close but it's not enough. Wrapping his cock around your panties, his saliva mixed with your juices dried on it, he starts thrusting into his hand. Body hot and breath raged, he feels his muscles tense as your name falls out of his mouth every few seconds. Soon enough, he's cumming inside your panties, his seed leaking through the fabric and staining his hand but he doesn't care.

It was worth it.

“When did you fall in love with me?”

Your soft voice carries through the bedroom, your legs laced with Yoongi's as he keeps caressing your exposed back. He can feel your perked nipples brushing against the side of his chest, his cum mixed with your own staining the sheets but none of you truly care.

“When I first saw you.” he answers, kissing you into your hair as you giggle, finding his answer tactical and funny.

“Oh, come on,” you scoff with a laugh, the beautiful melody of it causing him to smile. “We didn't even know each other that well.” you argue, trailing some patterns onto his chest.

“It doesn't matter, I loved you way before that.” he says and you just giggle, trailing a heart on his naked skin.

You don't pressure him into answering differently, even though you know he's just bluffing because you don't believe in love at first sight. You've to know that person before you can love them with all their flaws and everything that comes with it.

“I love you.” you tell him quietly, kissing his chest while you can feel and hear his heartbeat that mimics yours.

“I love you too,” he says immediately, “You've no idea.”

You really don't.

#networkbangtan #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #yoongi smut #yoongi drabble #yoongi x reader #yoongi au #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x y/n #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #personasintro

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Fated

Karl Heisenberg x Autistic, Sound-sensitive Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Noise sensitivity

Genre: Romance, Comfort

Summary: Not everyone could love a man like Heisenberg. But Y/N isn’t everyone, nor is she just anyone. She loves him as the whole package he is: murderous intentions, human experiments and all.

Requested by @phoenixofthevalley Hi dear! Here you go - the first fic I’ve ever written for Karl Heisenberg (first of many) and thank you so much for being my first ever Resident Evil 8 requester! Hope you enjoy the read! Feel free to correct me if I’ve described anything incorrectly or in an accidentally offensive manner. I have no intention of spreading hate or any type of misconception so I’d really appreciate the correction. Love, Vy ❤

Watching Karl get so excited over this grand plan of his - the destroying of Mother Miranda, his revenge - it all makes me feel uneasy. I can’t explain the feeling, mostly cause I’ve never felt it before, and I can’t quite describe it either. I don’t connect to people easily and I’ve always been told I’m the problem but I guess it took the right person to make me feel things I haven’t felt for no one else all my life.

“The weren’t worthy of your emotions, darling.“ Karl told me on one of the rare occasions when I opened up my mind to him. I felt his words wrap around me like a comforting embrace. For the first time in my life, I felt understood.

I think that’s what took me the longest to get used to - being understood, seen and validated. My opinions had never before been taken into account seriously, my personal boundaries were rarely respected by others and people always had a hard time dealing with how distant I can be. But what bothers me above all is how people refer to me as dramatic because of my sound sensitivity - something no one took seriously when I’d tell them about it.

Karl did though, surprising me to no end.

He respects that I like my personal space and prefer not being shown much affection, especially not physical. He understands that I have a hard time showing people affection myself. He goes out of his way to make sure I’m ok with whatever it is he’s doing, saying or suggesting. And I’m sure that if I were to ever tell someone about this, they wouldn’t believe me. That’s most definitely due to his rough exterior and intimidating appearance. Also probably because he comes off as downright selfish and rude when you first meet him, but getting to know him was a journey worth taking because I now know the real him. A trust me, his rough exterior and the softness of his true self have nothing in common. Although, he does claim that softness is only reserved for me.

With all that laid out, it’s completely understandable that I don’t want him going up against Mother Miranda. Thanks to Karl I’ve never had the displeasure of running into her, but I’ve heard countless stories of how powerful and downright terrifying that witch is. Bottom line: I don’t want Karl walking into something that’s the equivalent of suicide.

And I’ve finally decided to let him know exactly how I feel about it.

I’ve been sitting here, searching for my voice as I observe Karl in his deepest thinking space. He’s constantly in it, if you ask me - constantly thinking, looking for ways to make his innovations better, stronger, more powerful to add to his chances of victory against the sadistic ruler of this village. He was already at his desk when I walked in, hunched over dozens of drawings drawn with cut-edge precision yet in his mind they are probably not near good enough. In his mind, all he does is never good enough. He prides himself on this factory and what he’s produced thus far but he cannot stay proud of himself for very long, he constantly feels the need to better himself in order to remain worthy in his eyes. I wish I could change his mindset on those grounds but I know that my tries would be futile and pointless.

“Karl?“ I suddenly speak up, surprising both him and myself. I don’t know what I was thinking opening my mouth when I still have no idea how to go about this without making it seem like I don’t believe in him. That is in no way the case. I believe he can defeat her, if he cannot do it himself, his robo-army most certainly can. But I don’t want defeating her to cost him his life cause without him in mine I’m not sure what will be left of me.

He straightens up from where he’s been hunched over for the past God knows how many hours, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms as her turns to look at me, his sunglasses capturing the white neon light in the office as he does so.

“What is it, darling? Something wrong?“ he takes a step towards me as I stand up and go to approach him.

“Actually...“ Suddenly, that thing he keeps in a safety cell just below this room starts going off with that annoying loud sound it makes. It’s always disturbed me, ever since it came to exist which was not so long ago considering it’s been his latest project. It not only terrifies me but triggers my sound sensitivity as do most of the machines in this forsaken factory.

I close my eyes tightly shut as I cover my ears with my hands, praying for the sound to go away as soon as possible because I can’t take it. It almost makes me physically nauseous and gives me vertigo, bringing me to the brink of tears because of its loudness and intensity, like it’s drilling right into my brain.

I can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment the sound went away because when faced with such a pain-inducing experience, my senses tend to tune out while I still remain conscious, but when my hearing returns I the only thing I’m able to hear is a steady heartbeat and a steady breathing.

“It’s ok, darling. You’re ok.“ I hear Karl’s quiet whisper, giving me peace and coaxing me into opening my eyes.

When I do so, I come to realize why the rest of the world has gone quiet. Why I’m suddenly so flooded with comfort like no one is able to bring me. No one but him. One of my ears is pressed up to his chest while the other is covered by his warm hand which travels up to move a strand of hair from my face and put it behind my ear as he repeats his soothing words like a chant, slowly starting to let go of me out of fear that he’s crossing a line. He’s always so wary about that and I’ll forever be grateful to him for it.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?“ His hands gently cup my cheeks, tilting my head so I can look him in the eyes - directly in the eyes, for he has ridden himself of his glasses. I’ve found he does that often when around me - removes his glasses. I once asked him why that is but the answer he gave me was vague, all the while a small smile played on his face. Guess he’s a bigger secret-keeper than I primarily thought. It doesn’t bother me really, I know the only secrets he keeps are the ones that would be a hazard for my safety if he exposed me to them, so I allow him his secrets and I keep some of my own to myself. It’s only fair, after all.

I nod, blinking up at him, “Yes, I’m ok. But...“ Now or never, girl. Now or never. “But if you want me to be honest, I will be.”

He looks baffled by my answer but he doesn’t falter, quickly regaining his composure before he replies, “Of course, dear. I always want you to be honest with me. What’s on your mind, what’s bothering you?“

Now “I haven’t been really ok for a while now.” I take his hands in mine, removing them from my cheeks but holding them firmly between us - a gesture that surprises me just as much as it shocks him. Never have I felt the need to be so close to someone. It may be momentary and temporary, but I refuse to dwell on that as I push forward with my argument, “I haven’t been ok since you told me about your plane. The whole thing with Mother Miranda and all that...” Not the time to be leaving me, words. I started this, I’ll finish it. “Look, Karl, I know you and your army can bring that witch to her demise but...”

“But what, Y/N? Tell me.“ He encourages me softly, his hands subtly tightening their hold on mine as if to keep me grounded, remind me he’s listening closely to every word I’m saying. Like he always does.

“But what if it doesn’t go as planned?“ I blurt out, biting my bottom lip nervously. It makes me anxious, being so honest and emotionally exposed. That’s so rare for me I doubt I’ll ever get used to it, but that’s the only way I have at least a fragment of a chance of convincing Karl to drop this. “What if things go south and you end up killed or turned into a monster or something else?“

The concern on his face washes away when he hears my words, getting replaced by a soft, consoling smile. I quickly look away, feeling that confession on my part was quite odd. I feel out of place but not uncomfortable, I don’t know how to explain it. It almost feels like relief, like I’ve finally gotten a huge boulder off my chest and I can finally breathe properly. But I can’t, not until I hear his reply. That smile should probably tell me something but it doesn’t - I won’t believe anything until I hear it come out of his mouth with my own two ears.

“Oh Y/N, darling, you won’t lose me. Ever.“ His thumb swipes across my knuckles soothingly, drawing abstract patterns on the skin of the back of my hand, “You never need to worry about me, hun, I ain’t going anywhere. No one can take me away from you or you away from me. Anyone who dares to try, well, bad things will happen to ‘em.“ He chuckles, easing the tension enough for me to able to look up at him again. When our eyes meet again, I see something I can’t name nor describe. All I know is that what he’s telling me is genuine and comes, “I’ll always be here, by your side, Y/N. I will always be here to shield you from anything and anyone. Any rogue lycan or any loud sound, I’ll be there to prevent it from reaching you. Never forget that. Ok?“

That urge to be have him close takes over me again. I think that somewhere in the back of my mind I see a clock ticking down, counting down the numbered hours we have together before he inevitably carries out his plan. As scary as that is, I think I can do nothing but accept it.

And so, that’s exactly what I do.

Wrapping my arms around him tenderly, enveloping him in the first hug I’ve ever given him - probably the first hug anyone has given him - I accept our fate, silently hoping it changes somewhere along the lines.

“Ok.“

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Late Night Talks

Summary: After a long hunt, the reader and Dean grab a late dinner on the road. Dean notices the reader not eating much and calls her out on her recent eating habits when he gets concerned about the road she’s on...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, discussion of disordered eating & eating disorders, fluff

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo!

______

“I read this article earlier,” said Dean as he popped a french fry into his mouth. You were about five hours from home, eating a midnight dinner at some tiny little diner on the side of the road after a successful but exhausting ghoul hunt.

“Mhm,” you hummed, picking at a brussel sprout on your plate.

“It was on disordered eating,” he said, picking up a piece of bacon that’d fallen onto his plate and eating it.

“You mean eating disorders,” you said, stabbing into the sprout and eating it before you went back to your dicing up your chicken tenderloin.

“No this was something different. It’s like, how some people shift into having an eating disorder, like pre disorder I guess.”

“So...was there something interesting in this article?” you asked, picking up a piece of chicken and taking a bite.

“Actually yeah,” he said. You chewed and took a few bites before he set the burger down and wiped off his hands. “It was about how there’s dangers involved with disordered eating since it could turn into something all consuming, like a full on eating disorder.”

“Well that sounds kinda obvious,” you said.

“Well it was about how stuff like skipping meals, limiting your calories too much, saying some foods are good and others are bad, that stuff over time can really start to mess with your head and lead to that compulsion of being obsessed with food and weight.”

“Isn’t that just common sense,” you said. He hummed and you ate another piece of chicken before pushing the plate away. “I don’t know about you but I’m full.”

“Yeah, it is common sense,” he said. You raised an eyebrow and he pulled out his phone, tapping on it for a moment before spinning it around, showing you a number.

“Are you tracking my fucking calories?” you said.

“Oh geez, Y/N. Maybe cause you hit every red flag in that article I read and I got concerned. There’s no humanly possible way you’re full when you’ve eaten a whopping 800 calories today. You’re starving yourself.”

“I’m not hungry today, weirdo,” you said.

“You were slow on that hunt and we both know why. You’ve been doing this for weeks really extremely and honestly, since I’ve met you.”

“I’m on a diet. You know that.”

“You’re on the ‘I’m fucking up my metabolism’ diet. Ah, that one’s a classic,” he said.

“Back off. I am not hungry lately is all.”

“Eat this,” he said, sliding his plate in front of you. He took your plate and started eating, staring at you. “Eat the burger.”

“I said-”

“Take one bite.”

“I’m not hungry,” you growled.

“Then take a bite and spit it out.” You picked up the burger, covered in cheese, bacon, peppers and a sauce that smelled so good. You swallowed and put it down, Dean shaking his head.

“Dean. I’m just not hungry.”

“Why won’t you take a bite?” he asked. You sighed and closed your eyes. “Y/N.”

“Because I’ll want to eat the whole thing and this has to be a thousand calories and I can’t eat that much, Dean. I’m on a diet.”

“Today I’ve seen you have three cups of coffee, a banana, and half of a small piece of chicken and a few brussel sprouts. You need to eat.”

“I need to lose weight.”

“For what?”

“I’m overweight.”

“Because a little stupid calculator online said so? So another stupid little calculator tells you how much food you’re allowed a day? But maybe you’re having a bad day so you tell yourself you don’t deserve to have even all of that already restricted food? So you make it even smaller to the point of, hm, what’s that word, disordered eating?”

You stared down at your lap and heard him get up, sliding into the booth beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you looked out the window.

“I do need to lose weight Dean. It’s true. I’m not supposed to be this big.”

“What are you supposed to be then?”

“Like that waitress. She’s small and thin. She’s healthy.”

“I see,” he said. She was working behind the counter, no one else in the place aside from a man at the other end and the cook. “Excuse me miss?”

She popped her head up and walked over with a tired smile.

“Can we get another bacon cheeseburger? And a big bowl of that ice cream sundae?” he asked.

“You got it,” she said, writing it down.

“One more thing,” said Dean. “Do you like the way you look?”

“Excuse me?” she said.

“Dean, shut up,” you said. “Please ignore him.”

“I mean, are you happy with your body? Do you eat whatever you want, wear whatever you want, never worry a second about what goes in it or how it looks? You’re a beautiful woman but what do you actually think of yourself?”

She was quiet for a few moments before she noticed the swapped plates in front of you.

“You know when you first asked that, I thought, you were being creepy. I get creepy guys in here a lot late at night. The cook is a big guy but it happens. I know I’m small. I wish I was stronger. I wish I looked like she does. I’m something that looks like they’d snap in the wind. She’s strong and has an ass and curves. She’s not a rectangle with no curves or chest. She doesn’t look like a guy. I wish I wasn’t so delicate but I don’t think I can change that much.”

“Probably not so much,” said Dean. “But I hear weight training is good for muscle building. Creeps are always creeps but might help to be able to deck ‘em.”

“Yeah. I’ll go put that order in for you guys,” she said with a smile. Dean turned his head back to you after she went through the double doors.

“Funny. You want her body. She wants yours,” he said.

“She doesn’t know I’m overweight.”

“She doesn’t know how damn strong you are. Her body? She was right. She is delicate and it’d be a safe idea for her to put on some muscle given her job. You though? You I’ll worry to death over no matter what. But you’re missing the most glaring thing of all.”

“What?”

“You just said she doesn’t know you’re overweight. She doesn’t know how much you weigh. If she doesn’t know how does anyone know? Why does a number on a scale matter? Health does, don’t get me wrong, but care more about what your body can do than what size pants you fit in. It’s all bullshit anyways. You can be a small one place or a triple XL somewhere else. You can have a normal chest but be told it’s too big or too small by a different brand. I just don’t want to see you going down a path towards something worse where you’re hurting yourself.”

“I’d never hurt myself, Dean.”

“If your body is hungry and you don’t feed it, you’re hurting it. I’m talking about you’re cold, you’re starving, you have no energy, you feel like crap. But you won’t eat, not until it gets a little worse because you think you can take it because you’ve taken it before. That’s hurting yourself and you hurt yourself a lot sweetheart.”

You looked down and swallowed, taking a deep breath.

“I’m really cold right now,” you said quietly. “I’m tired of always being so fucking cold.”

“Eat,” he said, tugging his plate closer to you. “I’ll order you some soup too. That’ll warm you up.”

He took off his jacket and wrapped it over your shoulders. He kissed your cheek and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’ve been like this for years, Dean. I don’t know how people eat normally anymore.”

“I know. You probably fucked up your metabolism but we can unfuck it up too. You can be healthy but this, this isn’t healthy. I’ll do it with you but you gotta promise me you won’t starve yourself anymore.”

“I’ll try,” you said.

“I’ll take trying to start with,” he said. “I’m gonna order that soup. Eat up for me sweetheart. You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

One Month Later

“Y/N!” shouted Dean from the kitchen as you walked past. “You eat lunch yet?”

“No,” you said.

“Are you hungry?”

“A little. I was waiting for you to get done with Baby,” you said.

“What’d you eat so far?” he asked.

“I had a cup of coffee and a protein bar and for lunch I’m having one of those greek wraps I like,” you said. “Satisfied?”

“I’d prefer if you had two wraps or a wrap and snack with it,” he said. You grumbled and he sighed. “Y/N. You said I could take the lead on this.”

“I’m gaining weight,” you said.

“Yeah cause you aren’t eating what a toddler does in a day anymore which is perfectly healthy for a grown woman. I know it’s only been a month but you have so much more energy, you sleep better, you have less nightmares. Your skin looks amazing. So gain a few pounds, gain more than a few, let’s fix your metabolism and then we’ll start working out a little and we’re not gonna give a fuck how much we weigh at all and we’re gonna be the hottest fucking couple in this neighborhood I swear.”

“I like not feeling cold anymore,” you said with a small smile, Dean walking over and rubbing your arms. “It’s just...hard sometimes to not...wait to eat until your stomach hurts from no food. I’m figuring out what being hungry is again.”

“It’s gonna take some time but your body will learn again. We just gotta be extra nice to it right now while it recovers,” he said. “And then we’ll always be nice to it, right?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I promise.”

“So, one wrap or two?” he asked, opening the fridge.

“One. I’ll save the other for tomorrow. But maybe I’ll have some pita chips and hummus with it?” you asked.

“That sounds yummy,” he said. “I think I’ll have that myself.”

“You don’t have to eat my diet Dean,” you said.

“I could do with being nicer to my own body myself,” he said. “After lunch do you want to go for a walk? I have a sneaking suspicion the couple three blocks over are a pair of vamps.”

“That’s the guy with the skin condition, babe,” you said.

“Are you sure cause he got like a weird rash that one time.”

“It’s a condition,” you said with a smile. “But I would love to go for a walk with you while the day is still nice.”

“Sounds like a plan sweetheart,” he said, starting to take food out of the fridge. You walked over and gave him a hug from behind.

“Thanks for saying something. Even if I tried pretending I was fine.”

“You’d do the same for me,” he said. “Come on, cutie. Let’s get some grub. I’m starving.”

________

#tell me a story bingo #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #dean x

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uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

Text

Retrieval

I just wanted to write some gross shit sorry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, death, graphic imagery, gore, blood, degradation, threats of violence

A trio of very intoxicated men stumbled out of the front door of the bar followed by you. You held the door open for a second as you called out to the men to have a good night and to come back soon, but before you could give any of them a chance to respond you had shut the door and locked it, the bell on the door jingling above you. Maybe you weren't being too subtle about wanting them to leave already so you and your coworker could clean up the place, but at the moment you couldn't say you cared too much. It was after midnight and you wanted to go home.

Your coworker, Corey, chuckled at you from the entryway to the kitchen.

“Not very professional of you.”

“Because people like that are coming to a sports bar for professionalism and not to get drunk off of their asses,” you answered, grabbing a bucket and rag to begin with wiping down the tables.

“It's on you if they call back to complain,” he teased.

You laughed.

“Like any of them will be able to remember when they wake up tomorrow.”

“Guess you got a point there.”

You hummed in agreement, wiping down the wooden seats of the chairs before glancing back to him; Corey was still standing in the doorway, checking something on his phone.

“Are you going to clean up back there or are you expecting me to do it for you?” you teased him.

Corey held up his hands in mock surrender before he disappeared back to the kitchen.

The small sports bar you worked at always got pretty messy, both inside the kitchen and out. Food crumbs, wet stains from spilled drinks and small things like loose change, wads of gum and people's small personal items littered the dark carpeted floor. The tables and chairs were usually in a similar state in terms of the food and drink residue. At least you had never needed to clean the bathrooms.

Moving from table to table, you would wipe the surfaces clean, letting the mess on top fall to the floor before you set the chairs upside down on top of the table. Whatever had ended up on the floor you'd get with the vacuum later. It was time consuming and monotonous, but there was a weird part of you that got a certain satisfaction of being able to return the dining area back to a clean state, even if it would be all ruined by the next evening.

Even if it was stupid, at least you actually had the freedom to do what you liked no matter how stupid it was.

Corey was playing something on his phone in the kitchen; knowing him, it was probably some new podcast he had gotten into. The noise you could hear from the back was drowned out when you turned on the vacuum cleaner, trying in vain to clean up everything on the floor. You really wished the owners would take the time and money to replace the carpet with some hardwood; it would make cleaning up easier and would just look nicer.

The bar was always last because it wasn't usually that bad and you could get away with a not so thorough job as you tried to finish up before your shift ended. Corey was almost always done with the kitchen at this point and would be ready to mop the floor after you wiped down the counter.

As expected, Corey was waiting in the kitchen doorway with the mop bucket right next to him when you made it to the bar counter.

“Any plans after you get off?” he asked.

“Sleep,” you answered.

“You sure lead an exciting life,” he said jokingly.

“It's going to be after one in the morning soon; what kind of plans could I have?”

“I don't know. Figured maybe you'd have a boyfriend waiting for you or something.”

Boyfriend.

That word brought back some unpleasant memories. Of things you wanted to forget, and what you had run away from all those months ago.

You tried not to show it, but Corey seemed to pick up on the way you tensed at that.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” you told him hastily, “not in the dating scene currently. I needed a break.”

He nodded slowly.

“Gotcha.”

You couldn't say that the two of you were particularly close, having only known each other a little less than a couple of months, but you did appreciate that he understood boundaries. Too many of the older staff were nosy and wanted to know your business, which frequently got on your nerves.

Wiping down the last bit of the bar, you were about to throw the cleaning rag back into its bucket when you both heard a loud banging sound coming from the kitchen.

“What the hell?” said Corey.

“I'll check it; you start mopping out here,” you told him.

He nodded as you brushed past him, your eyes looking about the kitchen as you entered it, trying to find the source of the noise. Setting down the bucket on one of the counters, you made your way to the back when you didn't see anything.

The culprit ended up being a large pan that had somehow fallen off the shelf. Most likely from being stacked incorrectly. That was annoying, since you now needed to wash it off, with it having touched the floor and all.

“Everything okay?” Corey called back to you.

“Yeah. Something fell,” you answered.

The wash you gave the pan was rather haphazard, but as you set it to the side to dry overnight, you figured that if the crew in the morning had an issue with it, they could clean it again. Right now you were five minutes away from clocking out and you wanted to get out on time.

“We're all good out here,” Corey's voice called again.

You were about to answer him when you noticed the bucket you had brought in, and when you ran over to dump the water out, you noticed the rag was missing.

“Ah shit.”

You'd left it on the bar counter, didn't you?

You had indeed managed to do that, and you slipped past Corey, standing on your toes and propping an arm on the bar counter as you reached for the rag.

“Could you maybe not step on my clean floors?”

“Sorry,” you called back, “need to grab something.”

Pulling the rag off of the counter by its tattered edge, you pushed off the counter a bit as you moved back to get off of the wet floor.

Somehow, you slipped. You felt your feet slipping against the wet tile as you fell backwards, and you had only seconds to try and brace for impact.

You hit something, but it wasn't the floor.

Corey had moved behind and grabbed you just in time. He held you like that for a moment so you could adjust your footing and stand up properly.

It was then you both realized that, in his efforts to save you from a nasty fall, one of his hands had accidentally ended up grabbing ahold of your breast, and he was currently groping you.

“Fuck I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, pulling his hands away the second you righted yourself.

“It's okay,” you answered. It came out a bit shaky, though that was mostly due to you almost falling.

“I swear that was an accident,” Corey continued.

“It's okay,” you insisted, “seriously, it's fine. I prefer that over having my skull break open.”

Corey nodded, but still looked sheepish, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head while he looked at the floor.

Eager to alleviate this new tension, you wracked your brain for something to say that would get things feeling not so weird again.

“Hey,” you said, “I didn't fall, so at least your floors have been spared from that.”

He chuckled a little bit.

“For the most part. But you still stepped on them in the first place.”

“I forgot I left the rag! Give me a break.”

“I will, if you move so I can re-mop the floor,” he said.

Happy that things seemed to have gone back to normal, you complied, walking back into the kitchen and tossing the rag into a bin. You grabbed the bucket again, hoisting it up to dump the murky contents into the sink.

A loud noise sounded from the dining area, like wood being split apart accompanied by the light tingling of a bell.

It was so unexpected and so noisy even in the kitchen that you jumped, causing you to spill some water onto the floor.

That noise..... Was that the front door? From hearing the bell it sounded like it, but hadn't you locked it?

“Sir,” Corey's voice sounded through the kitchen door, “w-we're closed.”

Corey saying that indicated that someone had come in, but that noise wasn't normal, and you set the bucket back down as you went back to the dining area to investigate.

And how did this person get in? You were certain you had locked that door.

You pushed open the door-

And froze.

Phinks.

He was standing in front of the bar's entrance, the door practically pulled off of it's hinges and hanging open. Bits of the door frame had splintered off from the force he had used to wrench it open and had been scattered on the walkway leading up to it.

But there was no way Phinks gave a shit about that.

The second you opened that door, his eyes were on you.

Rage.

Pure rage radiated from him, a blackened aura you swore you could see that slowly began to fill the empty spaces in the bar, his form stiff and his hands in fists that were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

Only months ago you had done everything to get away from this man. Now he had found you, and he looked like he was ready to kill.

Corey looked back when you had entered, and immediately noticed your terrified expression.

“You know him?” he asked you.

Words couldn't come out. They just stayed trapped in your throat as you looked between him and Phinks, your breathing becoming short and harsh.

That had told Corey everything, as he stepped in front of you and addressed Phinks firmly.

“Sir, please leave now. We're going to call the police.”

With Corey now in the way, you couldn't see Phinks. But when he spoke for the first time since entering, you could sense just how much angrier he had become at Corey's actions.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he hissed.

Corey turned back, reaching out to you as he said “go call nine-”

Faster than either you or he could even think, Corey was pulled over the bar and brutally thrown across the room, crashing into one of the tables, the wood surface splintering and the chairs on top flying.

“Don't fucking touch her.”

Phinks' attention was on Corey now, and he stepped away from the bar. Corey was groaning and disoriented. There was blood dripping down his face as well as his arm, and he was shaking so violently that he couldn't push himself up off of the floor, instead collapsing over and over again onto the bits of broken table.

Phinks stood before him and reached down to pull him up by the collar of his shirt.

Corey pushed away his arm and stumbled backwards, hitting the edge of another table. You could see his eyes now, and the way he looked at Phinks in terror and confusion.

“Pathetic,” Phinks spat.

The blonde rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, and began to wind that arm in a clockwise motion.

That was familiar, you realized, as a horrible memory was brought back.

A man had tried to cut the strap of your purse as you and Phinks were walking home one night. Phinks had noticed and pulled you out of the way, but not fast enough, and you had ended up with a large gash on your arm.

“You think I'm scared of you?” the man had said when an infuriated Phinks approached him, winding up his arm once, then twice and then three times.

Phinks punched him and the man went flying; across the empty street and into the side of a building. The impact had left a dent in the bricks and the man's blood smeared on the surface as his body slid down onto the pavement.

Your mind had gone hopelessly blank at the sight of that, the wound on your arm you had been nursing forgotten as you stared wide-eyed at your boyfriend, who quickly returned to your side and chided you for taking pressure off of the cut.

“Ph-Ph-Phinks,” you stuttered.

“Yeah?”

“You..... You killed that man.”

Phinks' gaze narrowed.

“What's your point?”

He was going to do it again.

That brought you out of your stupor, and you rushed to the edge of the bar as you yelled out “Phinks! Please! Don't kill him!”

More pleas for Corey's life were about to spill from your lips when he glared back at you, a silent command for you to shut the hell up. That look made you freeze up again, and you stood by helplessly, holding on to the edge of the bar as you watched Corey struggle to stay upright.

That murderous aura that had been around him was now stifling, and it affected Corey to the point that he was having trouble breathing.

You counted at least twenty times that Phinks had rotated his arm, the aura increasing every time he did it.

Phinks glanced back at you again, and rotated once more.

He punched Corey in the face.

And Corey's entire upper half exploded.

His head was completely gone, face caving in on itself where Phinks had punched until it burst out through the back of his skull. His chest and arms were blown to pieces from the impact, the smaller bits of muscle and organs ripping out of him and sticking to the walls while the larger pieces of meat slid down with the copious amounts of blood and collected into the booths below. His lower half that remained mostly intact slumped beneath the table he had been leaning against, the remainder of his insides spilling out onto the floor while one of his legs still twitched. There was a fine red mist in the air over what remained intact, slowly settling down and soaking into the dark carpet.

You couldn't move.

You just stood there, keeping your hold on the edge of the bar, occasionally tensing and untensing your fingers as you looked at the piles of red slush and bone that had been your coworker.

Phinks had already walked away from it, coming towards the bar. But he passed by you, slamming the door to the kitchen open and letting it swing shut as he entered. You could hear movement, the sounds of his shoes scraping on the brick-red tile of the floor, glass clinking, him cursing to himself, a faucet being turned, and a familiar sound of water filling up a small container.

But you still stood there, unable to take your eyes away from the horrific scene. Minutes, no, seconds ago, that had been a person. Corey had friends, family and aspirations. And within a single moment, that person had been reduced to a mangled corpse that would only fill half of a body bag. How would they identify him? Whoever cleaned him up, would they be able to get everything? Or would bits of him be left behind and stay forever buried in the cracks and crevices of the bar?

You had seen Phinks kill before and it had made you sick then, but nothing had ever been anywhere near as terrible as this.

Corey's leg had stopped twitching, but blood that had hit the wall continued to trickle down in small streams.

You heard Phinks let out a loud sigh as a glass slammed against a metal counter top.

“Okay,” he called out, “I think I've calmed down now.”

Those footsteps in the back became louder and the door swung open again. Phinks appeared by your side, and when he gently put a hand on your arm, you finally looked away from Corey.

Phinks opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he glanced over to the mess he had left.

“... Lets go to the back,” he said after a moment.

He pulled you with him into the kitchen, and you didn't fight him on it. He still looked angry, but it was considerably less than when he had first entered.

Phinks leaned against the rim of the sink, one hand staying on you as you were positioned to stand in front of him.

“Been a while,” he said quietly.

You didn't respond.

He tsked.

“Goddammit. I find you again after months, and now you can't speak because of that asshole out there. Look, I know I overdid it, but after seeing the way that guy touched you I couldn't control myself.”

His eyes narrowed and he continued “why the fuck did you let him get away with touching you like that?”

Somehow, you managed to find your voice.

“I-it.... It was an a-accident.”

Phinks' free hand came up to lightly slap the side of your head. It didn't hurt, but you flinched regardless.

He had used that hand to end Corey's life; he could easily do the same to you.

“Stupid. You actually thought a move like that was accidental? That bastard was taking advantage of you and you were laughing it off.”

That wasn't true. It had been an accident. But instead of volunteering those thoughts, you bit down on your lip as it began to quiver, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Don't cry. Sorry. I shouldn't have hit you,” he said, his hand going back up to where he hit, softly stroking your hair.

“I'm just so fucking pissed at how gullible you are. What do you think would've happened if someone smarter had tried taking advantage of you? Fuck, some guys wouldn't need to be smarter; they'd just need to be strong enough to pin you down. Do you even realize how many ways you could've been fucked over before I found you? Did you even think about that? Or was that just me, because I'm actually capable of having some fucking sense?”

His hands settled on your shoulders and his grip became tighter.

“I've been stressed out of my mind trying to figure out where the hell you went, how the hell you managed to get away, or what condition you'd be in when I found you. I couldn't find you and I swear I was going insane. And after all that, when I finally manage to track you down, I have to see you letting some piece of trash grope you?”

Those hands slid up until they were around your neck, and his grip became tighter still.

“It would be so easy,” he murmured, “to just snap your neck and be done with it. Then the constant headache I get from worrying about you would go away. If you're going to fight and run away from me than what's the point?

“Maybe it'd be better for me if you were dead.”

It was deathly quiet in that kitchen.

Phinks still held that grip on you, and you were certain he could feel how fast your heart was beating through the pulse in your neck. You stood there, stiff and quiet as he looked you over, thinking to himself.

He really was considering it.

Any wrong move from you, and there would be two corpses to be found in the morning.

After a few painfully silent moments, he sighed again.

“But I think that if I killed you, part of me would die, too. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it's the truth.”

Finally taking his hands off your throat, he pulled you against his chest to embrace you.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Phinks said, “but I'd be even more miserable if I didn't have you. Does that make sense?”

Your face was pressed against the front of his tracksuit and you found yourself focusing on the patterned colors of white, red and green.

“I've heard it said a lot that being in love means that you also have to suffer,” he continued, “do you think that's true?”

“..... I don't know.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper and was muffled by the way he pressed you against his chest, but he still managed to hear your answer as he actually chuckled, rubbing the top of your head.

“'I don't know'. Big surprise there,” he said sarcastically, “you haven't changed a bit.”

When he pulled you away he was smiling, wiping away your tears with his thumb as he told you “don't cry anymore. I'm taking you home.”

Hearing that only made you want to cry more.

“Go get your bag and anything else you brought in,” he continued, “I already went to your apartment and packed up your stuff there. Once we're done here we can head out.

“We'll be back home before you know it.”

#phinks x reader #yandere #yandere hxh #phinks magcub #phinks #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere phinks #yandere x reader #reader insert

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