#And it made me realize I should really get that written down somewhere in and orderly manner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikanotes · 28 days

Text

don’t even bother ft. aventurine x gn!reader — just something short bcs his va is too good at his job and him voicing that post made me go oh wow! warnings cursing, clingy aven and reader in denial about their feelings, one suggestive joke, badly written Sorry! this is very much dedicated to nour enjoy ur bf

The light of the sun indicates that the day has started much longer ago than you had originally thought. You cling onto sleep, nevertheless, not at all fond of the idea of facing the day properly.

“Alright. I understand.”

There isn’t need for any context for you to get that the second disruption of your attempts at going back to dreamland is a call concerning work, of all things. The clear exhaustion and barely concealed frustration in Aventurine’s voice as he speaks to the person on the other end of that call indicates he probably feels the same as you.

Irritated enough to go back to sleep immediately after hanging up.

“Let’s schedule the interview for today.” he says, sounding like he’s stretching. Oh, great. He’s decided to be professional and get up. You hear him heave a long sigh, probably after hanging up, and blindly try to reach for him.

“No.” you mumble, frowning slightly. Aventurine hums, seemingly surprised, then chuckles.

“Hm? No?” he repeats, and leans down. You open your eyes enough to see him cover the painful rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains. He looks at you and tilts his head with a smile, “Not even a hello, huh? You’re so polite.” his voice drips with sarcasm.

You try to press your palm to his face but he grabs your wrist before you can, laughing. He presses closer to you and leans his forehead to your shoulder. “No what?” he asks, whispering. You don’t appreciate the chill that runs down your spine. He’s so close.

“No to leaving before me. I heard that call.”

He smiles against your neck before pulling back to look at you. “Who says I’m leaving?” he huffs softly, “I was just trying to sound awake, okay? And since when were you this clingy?”

“I’m the same as usual,” you complain, turning to lay on your back, “I just don’t want to be kicked out become the actual room’s owner isn’t here, is all. It’s a pain to deal with.”

He’s right. You’re not a clingy person. In fact, you don’t usually find yourself sleeping in the same bed as anyone, no matter how close you are to them. This is just… A rare occurence.

You and Aventurine getting one too many drinks at a nearby bar, you realizing you didn’t get yourself a hotel room prior to the whole ordeal, and crashing in his luxury bedsheets before he could protest.

And the worst part of it? You slept well.

In any case, the problem was that the warmth of someone by your side as you slept felt much more comforting than you’d expected it to be. Maybe it was just the previous night’s drinks residue blurring your thoughts. Maybe that’s what made you say no to him potentially leaving before you could actually process it.

Maybe it’s just because it’s him, and you never really mind him being so close to you.

He sighs and moves over your figure, planting his arm at the side of your head to hover over you. “You’re an awful liar. You wouldn’t last at poker.”

“Enlighten me. What the hell am I lying about?”

“This.”

He smiles, and it somehow makes you all the more aware of the distance between the two of you. It’s not nerve-wracking but it’s not uncomfortable. And it’s not comfortable, either, but it’s somewhere there in the middle. It’s on that line that makes your head struggle to keep up and that’s more than enough to tell you how badly you’re handling what should be a routine, by now. This is nothing new, come on.

“Who am I lying to…?” you continue.

He scoffs. “Yourself. I can practically see the gears turning inside your head. It’s almost cute.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “Almost.”

He smiles to himself but doesn’t add more, moving away from you. He breathes out tiredly as he leans back against his pillows, a hand moving to cover his eyes. “You should get the higher-ups to call for a room for you. No one’ll bother you then.”

“You’re the higher-ups, do it yourself, you have the funds.” you imitate a robotic-sounding voice, then sigh, “That’s what they’ll tell me.”

“Mm, will they, now?”

You look at him. Only then do you notice the sun on his skin, his slightly messed up bangs, and the one button holding that cursed hotel pajamas top. You press your eyes shut with half a mind to hold back an annoyed groan. Don’t look at him like that, you repeat in your head.

You and Aventurine are friends. He likes to tease and flirt but that’s just how he is, so there’s really nothing more to it. You work as a negotiator for a group who frequently deals with the IPC’s offers and request for help to convince people of their grandiose plans. And Aventurine is arguably very high-up in the ranks of the IPC. It’s a wonder you even became friends, but it has been a long while now. A long while of bantering, clinging into each other just a bit too much, and listening to the other’s stories the very few times either of you actually opened up.

— Most of those times being after drinks. Nevertheless, it counts for something.

But you’ve never seen him in this kind of light. In sunlight! You’re not seeing him in any kind of new light at all. It’s just a different atmosphere than what you’re used to around him. You’ve spent time talking for hours at quiet bars or helping each other out in the most chaotic situations, but it’s never been this.

It’s so… calm.

But your phone rings. You sigh heavily before you grab it and answer the call. “Hello?” You barely get to properly register who called you before the voice of your senior at work starts complaining in your ear. You grimace.

Aventurine stares at you curiously.

“… This is really last-minute. Seriously?” you say, then wait for an answer. Seems like you’re needed somewhere again. But calling you saying to get to a location one system hour later is just… “Fine, I’ll— I said fine. I’ll be there. Yeah. Yes, sir.”

You hang up. Quiet daydream’s over.

“Turns out I’m gonna need to leave, anyways.” you mutter, sitting up. You suddenly become very aware of how comfortable it was simply laying there talking with Aventurine. Now that you’re faced eith your usual duties and loud coworkers, you’re forced to realize just how soothing the man’s presence is in comparison.

You feel a hand on your arm. It’s warm on your skin, holding some remains from the sun’s touch. You turn your head to see Aventurine’s fingers trailing down slightly, seemingly in thought. “How about…” he trails off, brows furrowing.

“How about?”

He looks up at you and grins before pulling you back into him, wrapping his free arm around your waist swiftly. You end up much closer to his face than either of you had anticipated but you don’t move away, and neither does he.

“How about we take a day off?” he whispers.

You try to say something but no word comes to mind. Aventurine stares at you for a while and you notice his gaze flitting down your face for a flicker of a second before he grabs your arm more firmly and pulls you closer, leaving you no room to even attempt thinking. “Hm?”

“I, you… Fuck you.” is the only response you manage to get out of your throat, and even that sounds half-hearted. It almost sounds like a question, even. You have to blame it on the exhaustion. You brain’s not cooperating, right now.

“Are you offering?”

Now he’s done it. You manage to grab his pillow from underneath his head to swat it at him, making him exclaim in surprise and soon yell for mercy. “Okay, hold on, hear me out, I’m sorry!”

You lower the pillow, looking down at him. You’ve been close before but straddling him’s a new one. Outside of fighting, that is. Maybe this counts as fighting.

“Good Heavens.” he huffs, hair at least ten times messier than it was before, “Okay. That was unnecessary.”

“False. Deserved.”

“…Perhaps.” he clicks his tongue, and carefully picks his pillow from your hands, like it’s a gun threatening to fire at him. “But that was no answer to my offer. Shall we take a vacation?”

“You get to decide when your vacation is?”

His sigh sounds nothing short of exasperated. “Just play along, will you? If you do, I’ll find a way to cover for both of us.” he says, fingers touching your face for who-knows-why. His eyes focus back on yours and he raises his eyebrows questioningly.

You’re not going to immediately say yes.

“Fine. Full blame’s on you if my boss kills me.”

He laughs, seemingly pleased with your answer.

“Then rest.” he says quietly, pulling you against his chest. You tense for a while, then relax. Now the sun is on your skin, too, and its warmth almost seems to beckon you back into sleep. Or is it his arms wrapped around you? You can’t tell.

Maybe the world feels a bit less harsh and cold when Aventurine is with you, and maybe you just shouldn’t bother questioning it.

#aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr x reader #aventurine honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #x reader

850 notes · View notes

flamingpudding · 9 months

Text

Ghost Hunting Vigilantes

Ouija Board Prompt Idea Continuation...? Maybe!

Follow up part directly to this: Ghost Hunting Vigilantes #2

A/N: You guys are awesome. Comments and Reblogs gave me so much inspiration I ended typing this down during Lunch Break. Also I just might have wanted to image Tim going all out on the ghost investigation, I blame watching to many TFIL Overnight videos...

You would think that as Ghost King Danny would be able to learn from his mistakes, and he really could learn from his mistakes but for some reasons, this was something he was not learning from as he floated above the vigilantes curious. He wasn't going to mess with them again, Lady Gotham had beat that into his skull at least. Not like he did the first time but apparently the old city spirit was rather protective of her 'knights'.

Still their first meeting had gotten the Ghost King curious. It wasn't just about the matter with the Red Hood Guy, something he had promised Lady Gothom to take care of as compensation once he figured out what was up with him. But these guys seemed to have gotten an interest in ghost communications now.

So a couple weeks later he was floating invisible once again above them watching the RR Teen - by now he had learned that RR stood for Red Robin and he had snickered at the realization that his hero name was also the name of a Dinner - was laying out cat balls all around the room before setting up some other devices.

The Kid, Robin, was sitting cross legged and arms crossed on the ground and looked very grumpy. Danny could hear the kid mutter something about Pit Demons and that they should get rid of them instead of trying to communicate. The kid had yelled that before and Lady Gotham had never explained that in her lectures about how he should treat her 'knights'. What were Pit Demons? Was that a ghost variant his kingly tutors had failed to tell him about? If they were his subjects and tormenting humans he would need to deal with them, before the GIW became aware of them.

The one in blue, Nightwing if he remembered correctly, was laying out the Ouija Board again at the same place it lay last time. Danny noticed that the guy was looking at the board with curious confusion and for a moment the Ghost King wondered if he had left some traces on the board when his own ectoplasm soaked it.

"Think that ghost will appear again?" The girl in purple was also there again and next to her was another girl dressed in darker colors. Spoiler and Orphan according to Tucker and the city spirit.

"It's a Pit Demon. Stop calling it a ghost." Robin cut it glaring heated at them all. Danny muffled a snicker. The poor kid was definitely not very good at handling the ghostly things but by saying the Ghost King was Pit Demon the kid appeared to be braver about the whole situation these vigilantes were 'investigating' and setting themselves up for.

"I am more worried that Replacement got scammed buying all these things." Red Hood huffed as he was turning around and looking at a controller-like thing in his hands. Danny floated closer looking over the tall guy's shoulder. The thing had five LEDs in different colors and EMF Meter was written on it. Huh, was that thing like the Fenton-Finder? Well his parents had to get the idea for their inventions from somewhere.

A high pitched beep resounded in the room and all eyes turned to Red Robin who was finishing up setting a small box with an antenna. Danny recognised this one from online ghost hunting videos Sam has made him watch as a joke, a REM Pod. Oh so all the stuff they laid around the room including the cat balls were options for him to use? That was pretty nice of them considering the first time they were just playing around with a Ouija Board.

"We are all set up and good to start." Red Robin said as he stood up facing the rest of the vigilantes proudly and Danny arched an eyebrow. "We can now investigate if this 'ghost' is a Pit Demon or has anything to do with the Lazarus Pits or Water and what they want here in Gotham! I missed out on getting a sample last time but hopefully they will be willing to give me one this time."

The Lazarus' what now? Danny blinked at the teen stunned. He had only played a joke on them and Lady Gotham had already sorta punished him for it. If getting hit by a ghost club and lectured on knightly etiquette counted as punishment, which in his opinion did. Why were they making such a big deal out of this anyway?

"Don't we need to… like open a veil and introduce ourselves?"

"No."

"Oh come on Baby Bird. We have to be polite."

"Says the fucker who secretly attempted to use the Ouija Board behind our backs." Red Hood grumbled turning on the controller in his hand and nearly dropped it as the LEDs all started to glow and it let out a long drawn out beep. Danny blinked at it, he was still floating around the tall guy's shoulders.

"Fuck! The hell is with that thing?"

"Oh! Oh! The ghost is already here!"

"It is a Pit Demon."

All the vigilantes suddenly looked a lot more on alert, Danny held back a chuckle as he floated away from Red Hood and over to Nightwing. The LEDs went down to two and Danny suppressed a hum in curriousity. Did Red Hood have a signature that thing was picking up on? Was the guy a halfa in the making? He didn't appear to have any of the signs Vlad had told him about once.

"Hey so are you the one we talked to last time?"

Seeing the board as the closest thing to communicate by him, he reached out and moved that wooden piece to YES. The vigilantes looked among themselves and Danny floated over to the kid that started nervously playing with a cat ball that had been placed near him, wondering if he could send out like a calming aura for the kid.

Lady Gotham hadn't needed to hit him that hard, seeing the kid now made the Ghost King feel guilty for scaring the poor boy the way he did. Even if he didn't know what all that Lazarus Stuff was about yet. He mentally noted that down, maybe Clockwork, Pandora or one of the annoying Observants had an idea.

"So are you a Pi-"

"Are you okay?" Nightwing cut in, interrupting the question Red Robin was going to ask and Danny blinked. Huh that was new. It's been a while since anyone aside from his sister and best friends asked him that.

He floated towards the RR teen and he lightly touched the REM Pod's antenna, it let out a different pitched beep than it had before causing the teen that stood by it to jump up and turn around staring at it with wide eyes. "I didn't touch it!"

Spoiler rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't, Mr. Ghost did."

"The ghost could be a girl for all we know."

"It's 16."

"The voice we heard last time sounded like a male teen though."

"It is a Pit Demon, it most likely lied to us."

Rude, Danny didn't lie. He picked up one of the cat balls, it started instantly lighting up because of the movement, and lightly threw it at the kid that caught the ball on reflex. Wide eyed they all stared at the still blinking ball. "Did…. did the ghost just fucking throw that at Demon Brat?"

"I only ever saw in videos how ghosts lightly touch it to make it blink. I have never seen a ghost throw it like that."

Danny snickered into his hand to muffle it. Robin suddenly dropped the ball like it had burned his hand glaring at nothing as his eyes wandered over the room. "Show yourself Pit Demon!"

He floated over to Nightwing and the Ouija Board again, passing Red Hood who was still holding the EMF Meter that hit all five LEDs for a moment and beeped when he passed by. Making the tall guy jolt and stare down at it. He swiftly moved the wooden piece to NO.

After last time and the beating Lady Gotham gave him with her ghost club, he was not going to show himself. Not even with a little ectoplasm-avatar blob form. Okay maybe he will later on, when he was sure they wouldn't suddenly start attacking it again. He didn't see any of his parents' weapons with them but he wasn't going to risk it. Considering what Red Hood had said earlier, Red Robin might have bought some more stuff he had not shown or laid out yet.

"I demand that you show yourself, Demon!" The kid was pulling out his katana looking ready for a fight.

Now that was rude. Danny was a half ghost. Not a Demon. They were an entirely different species. Sure they were sort of a part of the Infinite Realms but like Ghost are formed from ambient ectoplasm, strong wills and emotions. Demons were like a living breathing species that needed to eat actual food like humans and not entirely made of ectoplasm.

Danny didn't move a single finger to respond to Robin's demand, silently scoffing.

"They are not ghosting us now are they?" Nightwing carefully asked after the silence had dragged on. Red Robin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear if you made them leave, I will not include you the next time we investigate this 'Pit Demon' as you call them."

"Come on guys! We can't give up now. Maybe we can call them back?" Spoiler added, Orphan next to her nodded enthusiastically.

"This thing is still glowing on two LEDs." Red Hood added holding up the EMF Meter for the rest of them to see.

"So it's still around?"

"Probably."

There was more silence and an idea sparked in Danny's head as he suppressed a snicker and carefully floated over to the REM Pod making sure to avoid Red Hood and not alerting the thing in his hand. He crouched by the box, studying it for a little bit and making sure not to touch it to accidentally set it off too soon.

"It's been too quiet. Are you sure it didn't leave?"

"Still on two LEDs."

"This demon is a coward."

"You're not making it better Baby Bird."

"We should have gotten Signal to come too. He probably could have told us for sure if they are still around or not."

"Maybe we should pack up and try another time again?"

"But we didn't even get the ghost's name!"

Taking this as his que to give a sign of 'life' from him again, Danny touched the REM Pods antenna with a certain rhyme in mind. He wasn't hitting the notes correctly but the pitches were different enough from each other that these vigilantes would recognise what he was doing.

They jumped at first at the sudden noise until slowly realization dawned for some of them. The girls started to laugh after a moment and Red Hood also chuckled with the realization. Nightwing didn't look exactly ecstatic but he did seem ready to burst out laughing. Robin looked rather confused and annoyed and Danny wondered if the kid had any meme knowledge while Red Robin groaned but then appeared to smile in good humor.

Once Danny stopped playing with the REM Pod, Red Robin walked over to a table and put the case under it on top. He opened it and placed a raidio looking like thing on the table as well as a camera with a screen on it.

"Now, Mr. Ghost. I know you have a voice we heard before but you seem to appear to prefer not talking to us directly and whatever made you talk last time doesn't seem to be around tonight. So I have a spirit box and a SLS Camera additionally prepared here." Red Robin switched on the 'radio' and it started making white noises filtering through radio channels, he turned back towards the room holding the camera up with the screen facing the teen. The other vigilantes also appeared stunned by how prepared Red Robin was. Danny could only blinked as he realized that Red Robin was pointing it directly at him and for a second he wondered if that thing was actually picking up his movements or if it only picked up static or blurred images like the cameras back at home that were not old film.

"Let's have a talk this way, shall we?"

-Seriously?- Danny muttered making sure he was using ghost speech so they wouldn't hear him only to slap his hands in realization over his mouth as the Spirit box statically repeated his words understandable for them.

Wide eyed he stared at Red Robin who grinned triumphantly at him, he was still invisible at least... right?

1K notes · View notes

celtic-crossbow · 4 months

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 12

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, canonical character death, poorly written smut, mention of scars, allusions to child abuse

A/N: I feel like I say this about every chapter but I really struggled with this one. I even scrapped 3,800 words because I hated it so much. It still ended up being a long one but it feels like a lot of time skipping and nonsense. The beginning is nice though. ;) I hope it’s at least somewhat enjoyable. Thank you, my dears.💙

*Click here to be added to taglists.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

Your body was on fire; electric jolts sparking with pleasure each place where his skin was touching yours. It was never like this before. It was purely physical, without attachment. Now it felt like he had integrated himself into your very soul. You wanted him deeper than his cock dragging over your inner walls; you wanted him beneath your very skin.

Each thrust was slow but deep, his back arching when he rolled his hips into you. His lips and hands felt like they were everywhere all at once. He wasn’t just fucking you. He was making love to you. Deliberate, delicate, yet no less exhilarating.

Your hips raised of their own volition to meet his. You were desperate to snap that inner tension; the tightly coiled heat low in your belly. Daryl had other plans. He was drawing this out. He was savoring you.

“Easy. I gotcha.” He purred against your ear just before his lips attached to the skin above where your pulse thrummed. “S’gon’ feel real good. Hang on fer me.” He ventured lower to draw a nipple into his mouth, the swirling of his tongue pulling a moan from you, your hands moving from his bare back to his hair and then returning. You urged him back to your mouth, whining against his smiling lips.

“Please.” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for; there was so much sensation that you couldn’t even pinpoint where you needed him most. “Please, please, please.” He chuckled and made a slow journey with his fingertips, whispering down your torso to disappear between your bodies. A calloused thumb pressed against your clit and you nearly wailed.

“Tha’ s’it. Let go fer me.” His thrusts never wavered, leaving you to dimly wonder if this would be the first of many orgasms he would give you before he was chasing his own high. “Cum fer me, Y/N.”

You could feel your cunt clamp around him and begin to pull him impossibly deeper, preparing for your orgasm to wash over you. You were right on the edge, teetering. His lips met yours and your hips angled upward, the knot ready to burst. Just as you felt the first wave of ecstasy—

You opened your eyes to the dim light of a small lamp on the bedside table. You still felt tired when somewhere in your mind, you could recall that something happened and you should feel better. In your sleepy haze, you couldn’t seem to summon the memories. Only the residual feel of Daryl’s body pressed against yours and the pleasure he was so eagerly offering you.

“That must’ve been some dream.”

You lifted your head to find Carol sitting in a chair close to the bedside, a small smile on her face and her hands folded on her lap.

“Carol.” Your lips curved upward ever so slightly.

“So dehydrated but still able to drool so I’d say we’re making progress.” She chuckled while you dragged the back of your hand across your mouth with a curl of your lip.

“The baby okay?” You scratched at your scalp, still trying to piece together what happened that ended with you in bed and hooked up to fluids.

“Mhm. Hershel says the heartbeat is strong.” She smiled, the sadness behind her eyes more transparent than she probably realized.

“What happened?” You inquired, slowly pushing yourself up to sit against the headboard without disturbing the IV tubing. Just as her mouth opened, the memories of your rescue mission came flooding back in a breathtaking onslaught. “Oh god, Daryl!” You grabbed the blanket and threw it back, aiming to get to your feet, only halting by a gentle touch to your ankle.

“He’s in the next room. He’s gonna be fine.”

When the sudden rush evaporated, you sank back against the pillows. You had all three made it.

“He was in shock by the time you made it back. Hershel gave him some IV fluids and is going to start some antibiotics. He’s all patched up. He’ll be back to his cheery self in no time.”

You chuckled. “Just a ball of sunshine, that one.” Your smile fell away, remembering just how horrible he had looked the last time you saw him; dragging his feet along behind you. Blood dampened his shirt, his pants. He was pale as milk, dark circles under his eyes. You held on to a fragile hope that he— if nothing else —looked better after stitches and fluids. “Is he awake?”

“He was stirring a little while ago.” You nodded, picking at your left thumbnail. “I’m gonna get you some water. Maybe we can take out that IV now that you’re awake.” The other woman stood gracefully, donning her usual smile except it wasn’t quite reaching her eyes. Your gaze followed her out the door, your heart aching for her. She was so intent on caring for you and your baby while her own child was still missing. It was a bleak reminder of how unfair life truly was.

You inwardly sighed, your stomach beginning to feel ill at ease. How did you end up in this position? All of it. The dead rising to eat the living. Losing everyone you held dear. Making a baby with a complete stranger. And now so desperate to keep that man in your life that it frightened you. Just…how?

Everything had been so normal before. You had your routine with your father waiting at home for you everyday. You’d sit with him over a dinner that you prepared, listening to his lame jokes and laughing even harder when they weren’t funny. Your uncles and aunt would come over once every two weeks for a big supper. You’d usually save the larger kill for those occasions.

God, you missed them.

But they weren’t here now.

Daryl was. You’d be damned if you’d lose someone else.

A soft knock on the door signaled Carol’s return. She had a tray of food. Eggs, apparently. The last time, when Daryl had brought them, you had been famished and paid no mind to the smell. It was different this time, and your stomach was not pleased.

“The eggs.” You gagged, sitting up and covering your mouth and nose. Carol’s eyes widened and she swiftly put the tray outside the door and grabbed up the water glass before she shut the smell out.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly. “I brought the pills that Maggie and Glenn were able to get. They found a few bottles so you should be set for now.” She handed you the medication and the water. Your stomach churned angrily. “I’ll see about getting Beth to make you another smoothie.”

“Thank you.” It was made clear by the expression on her face that she was worried. “I’ll be okay.” The pill had a grainy texture and left a horrible taste. You washed it down with a sip of water, but the unpleasant assault on your tastebuds continued. It would be worth it if it meant everything would stop trying to crawl out of your throat.

“I’ll get Hershel to see about that IV. Then maybe you’d like to go see Daryl?”

You gave her a nod and a tight-lipped smile, watching her leave to fetch the vet. Ugh. You knew he would lecture you, but you couldn’t let it sway your desire to protect your little family. That’s exactly what it was: a family. Your relationship with Daryl didn’t alter the fact that you would share a child. Co-parent. Protect one another.

A rapid knock on the door before it opened revealed the vet. “Carol tells me you’re feeling okay. Maybe we can remove your IV if you can ensure you’ll continue to take in as much water as you can.”

“I can do that.”

He studied you for a moment, as if searching for a hint that you may not follow through. Apparently satisfied that you’d heed his instructions, he rounded the bed and began working on removing the catheter from your arm. The grim expression was sign enough that you were about to be scolded. “Y/N, you understand the risks involved when you go out there.” And so it began. “This, I can’t stop you from doing but you should consider the safety of your child if nothing else.”

“No one else was going to try and find him. It was something I had to do.” You lowered your head, feeling not unlike a child who was in trouble for drawing on the walls and knowing better.

There was nothing left to say. He continued to stare for a moment after instructing you to bend your arm and hold pressure on the square of gauze he’d placed there. Perhaps, he was attempting to understand. Maybe he was judging your decision. Maybe he was even praying for you. It didn’t matter. In the end, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave the room.

As soon as the door closed, you tossed the gauze onto the bedside table, carefully lowering your feet to the floor. The mattress acted as support while you ensured dizziness wouldn’t bombard you. Your vision stayed clear, even if your stomach was still protesting. Hopefully it would settle soon enough.

You knew Daryl would likely be across the hall. There was an anxiety at the thought of seeing him; one you couldn’t validate. You knew you wanted to go, to see with your own eyes that he was alive and healing. You chose to ignore the feeling and opened the door, pausing on the threshold when you heard his voice.

“I didn’ do anythin’ Rick or Shane wouldn’ta done.”

“I know.” You could see Carol step into the doorway of the adjacent room. You stepped back behind the frame of your own, feeling like an intruder. “You’re every bit as good as them. Every bit.” The door closed, her soft steps moving further away, most likely in route to get your smoothie.

You could absolutely throttle the redneck after hearing him downplay what he had been nearly killing himself to achieve. He had worked just as hard as anyone else in the search for Sophia. If he wouldn’t acknowledge the effort he’d put in, he was likely giving himself hell over being placed on the sidelines after his injury. There was no way Hershel was going to clear him to go back out there anytime soon.

Your bare feet barely made a sound when you crossed the space between rooms, leaning into the door with one hand on the knob while the other quietly knocked.

“Jesus, can’t a guy get some sleep ‘round here. What is it now?”

Scrunching your nose in response to his grumpy attitude, you opened the door and peered inside. He most likely wasn’t expecting you. His back was to you, the sheet up to the curve of his hips, giving you a glimpse of the deep, dark puckered lines of several scars. His skin was still pale. They likely didn’t appear so harsh against his normally tan complexion. Still…

“Hey, dumbass. How’re you feeling?” The way he flinched and clumsily gripped the thin cover to drag it up higher made your chest tighten. The reason he didn’t want to remove his shirt when you fucked; he didn’t want you see.

“Callin’ me a dumbass when you was the one came runnin’ after me all half cocked.” He mumbled, not turning to look at you. Deflecting. You decided to let it go. He was so ashamed of that part of himself. He needed to keep that secret. It wasn’t yours to know. Maybe one day.

“I could make so many jokes out of what you just said and most would be at your expense.”

“Y’can go now, funny girl.”

You crawled up onto the mattress and maneuvered your way over to where he lay, resting your chin on the curve of his shoulder while carefully avoiding adding any pressure against his wounded side.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss. You know you’re glad to see me.”

Daryl scoffed, shrugging his shoulder to jostle your head. “Pain in my ass.” You peered at his outstretched right arm, the taped tubing leading up to a bag of clear fluids, half empty. At least his skin was feeling warmer. “Y’okay?”

“I’m sure they already told you that I’m fine.” You answered softly. You resisted the urge to brush your fingers over the bandage on his head.

“Don’ matter. Better ta hear it outta ya own mouth.”

You smiled. “I’m fine, Daryl. A little nauseous but Maggie and Glenn found the medicine.”

He grunted, a moment passing before he asked “baby okay?” His voice had lowered, muscles tensing beneath your chin, as if he were bracing himself for your answer.

“Mhm. Hershel checked and said the heartbeat was strong.” He relaxed almost immediately. You were once again reminded of his desire to not be touched. You had seen him flinch away from Rick and Carol. After a rare glimpse at his bare back, the fear made sense. But he saw you differently. He had chosen to accept you as safe for whatever reason. It had to be more than your willingness to spread your legs for him once upon a time not that long ago.

“Tha’s good.” He muttered. He sounded a little groggy.

“He give you something for the pain?” You tilted your head on his arm, your cheek lightly pressing against the muscle there.

“Mhm. Didn’ wan’ it. Shoulda saved it.”

“Take the meds, you stubborn ass.” You nearly shoved at him, albeit playfully. It still would have caused him discomfort. His movements were stiff, the muscles rippling under your face as his hand came up to present a clear message in the form of one finger. “You’re so mature, Dixon.” You teased. “I’m so honored to be the birth giver of your spawn.” There was instant regret when you felt him flinch, tense up, and then deflate.

“M’sorry.” His voice was raspy. Tired. You didn’t hesitate to caress the white bandage over his temple this time.

“Don’t be.” You soothed, watching him battle to stay awake. “I’m not.” You glanced at the sheet covering his back, shielding his shame from you. You could see the very top of what appeared to be the aftermath of a burn. Daryl had definitely had the opposite of your childhood. Where you had love and tenderness and support, it was suggested Daryl had pain and cruelty and isolation. Somehow, you knew that he would want better for his own child.

“I ain’t gon’ be…like our daddy. My kid…ain’t gon’ be like us.”

You brought your hand up to trace shapes onto his forearm, smiling as goosebumps rose from the gentle caress. “Daryl?”

You thought he might already be asleep, but then he drew in a breath and answered with a drawn out “hmm?”

“I really am honored.”

He went so still that he appeared to hold his breath, before he made a dismissive noise and shrugged you off of him. “Tryin’a sleep, woman.”

“Okay.” You had hit a nerve. It wasn’t like you didn’t consider the possibility he’d react negatively. “I’ll be across the hall.” You gracelessly scooted across the mattress, just having thrown your legs over the edge when there was a grip on your wrist, firm but gentle. You looked over your shoulder to find him awkwardly balanced on his right elbow while keeping the arm as straight as possible for the IV. He wasn’t looking at you but it had to hurt for him to have twisted into how he was to reach for you.

The breath he took shuddered. “Stay.”

“Alright.” Your free hand came to rest on the one that held your wrist, intending to provide comfort for a request he was obviously uncomfortable to make, but he pulled back his arm and settled against the pillow. Withholding your sigh, you settled behind him on your side, facing him but not touching.

It wasn’t difficult for sleep to find you in the dimly lit room with Daryl’s deep, even breathing acting as your gentle lullaby.

It was frightening how so many things could change so quickly. Hell, an entire world could end in a matter of days.

You were up and about the day after you awoke with the IV in your arm. Hershel had instructed you to take it easy and, for once in your life, you had listened. You helped with cooking and hanging laundry. Anything that allowed you to sit often for water breaks and did not require you to lift.

Daryl was also out of the house that following day. Not because Hershel had allowed it. But because he felt anxious, cooped up. He was stealthy, as per usual, and back in his tent with a book before anyone had noticed he was missing. To his credit, he did move slower and didn’t engage in anything strenuous. Well, for a few days anyway.

Lori’s pregnancy had been a shocker to everyone. It was laughable to you how suddenly, you weren’t such a burden in the eyes of the second officer. It was also very revealing. You had suspected something all along, but watching him with Rick’s wife when he thought all heads were turned had just confirmed your suspicions.

That same man was growing more and more volatile with each passing day. He was constantly challenging Rick, the sort of leader of your little group, and then going off on his own to do god knows what. Daryl had butted heads with him a few times over a variety of things. The most recent was just before Lori’s pregnancy was revealed. Shane made an off-handed comment— after you had once again stood your ground against him —about breeding with a redneck having an affect on your mentality. The archer had only conceded when you had stepped in front of him.

Tensions only rose when Glenn had revealed that Hershel had been keeping walkers in the barn. The issue was debated and discussed repeatedly with no clear resolution. Shane had come stomping over to the porch where everyone was congregated, handing out guns and riling everyone up. He was determined to clear the barn. You stood with Lori, even as Daryl went in with Shane, guns blazing. The action was one that would change everything for everyone forever.

When the lanky little girl stumbled out of the darkness beyond the barn doors, no one moved. No one made a sound. Except Carol. She had tried to run to Sophia, would have gladly allowed her daughter to rip into her throat at that moment if it meant she would get to hold her. Your fingers only brushed the woman’s arm as you attempted to stop her with a watery call of her name. Luckily, Daryl was successful. He held her until the last moment and even after the walker had fallen by Rick’s gun.

The drama didn’t end there.

A young man had been kept in the barn after Rick, Glenn, and Hershel had brought him back with an injury that required surgery. Randall ended up knowing of the Greene farm and thus, became a threat. Rather, the group that had left him was a threat, but… guilty by association and all that. Daryl had participated in the torture of the kid for information. That led to the collapse of already unsteady ground between the two of you. Dale had died still believing that the group was above taking a life. Randall was still in that barn, awaiting the decision on his fate.

Daryl took the discovery of Sophia in the barn harder than anyone, the exception being Carol. He moved his tent away from the camp, hunted alone, and stayed away from everyone.

Including you.

The one time you had tried to talk with him, not even about the distance between you, he had reacted with anger. When you stomped away, you swore you wouldn’t go back. And you hadn’t. That had been more than two weeks ago.

Inside the house, you were noticing even more changes but these were within your own body. It was as if, over night, your breasts had decided that your bra was just no longer suitable housing. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you studied them. They didn’t look bigger. Squeezing them in your palms, you hissed at the tender ache the gentle action left behind. You’d just have to wear a flannel over your cami so your nipples didn’t alert everyone that the evening was getting chilly.

Your special condition had been particularly nasty the past two days, requiring fluids once again, leaving you weak and exhausted. You grabbed your jeans from the armchair and stepped into them. There was the slightest bit of resistance getting them over your hips, earning a crease in your brow. It wasn’t until the button and zipper wouldn’t meet that you realized something really had changed.

Pushing the denim back to your knees, you turned sideways in front of the mirror. Sure enough, there was the slightest curve to your lower belly. How hadn’t you noticed? With a defeated slump to your shoulders, you let your head roll over to where your sleep pants laid at the foot of the bed. Those and your oversized t-shirt had been enough to keep you ignorant to the changes your body was making to accommodate your baby.

“Ugh, I’m not ready, Thumper.” You whined with a cool palm over the small bump. Grumbling to yourself as you kicked off the jeans and grabbed the plaid cotton pants, you slipped them on and just pulled the t-shirt back on over your camisole. Your flannel would be enough against the autumn chill and with your boots adding to your already questionable attire, you trudged out the door and down the stairs.

Your first stop was the kitchen. Lori was there with Carl, handing him a plate that contained a sandwich and probably stale potato chips. She smiled at you as you entered, eyeing your outfit with a barely concealed smile.

“Hey there. Making a fashion statement?”

Drinking down a glass of water to swallow your pill, you turned sideways and hauled up your shirt and cami before lowering your pants slightly. The other woman gave you a nod.

“Ah, I see.” Lori began putting away food that was not used for lunch. “How far along are you?”

The question caught you off guard. You honestly hadn’t thought about it in a while. You had been more concerned with Glenn being able to find enough vitamins, with keeping down enough food and water, with Daryl being a jerk, and just with surviving. The farm had brought about several weeks of safety and you wished for your little calendar that you had kept in the beginning.

“It’s okay if you don’t—”

“No, I got this.” You assured, beginning to count on your fingers. It was more difficult than you thought. The days seemed to blend, some more eventful than others, leaving you unable to recall the quiet days in between. “Maybe 17 weeks?”

Lori nodded. “Sounds about right. Everyone’s different but I’m finding myself more sick with this one than I ever was with Carl. When you have your second, it could be smooth sailing and you could have already “popped””— she raised her hands in air quotes —“by the time you’re this far along.”

You tilted your head. “Popped?”

Lori chuckled and continued with her task. “Means that one day you just wake up to a very noticeable belly.”

You looked down at your stomach, still on display with your shirt tucked under your arms to keep it raised. You wouldn’t say that you have “popped” as Lori put it. It was hardly noticeable until you tried to fasten your jeans. However, it was there. You adjusted your clothes and pursed your lips with a hum.

“Not sure there’ll ever be a second. I think one might be enough for the end of the world.”

You could see her expression shift, the smile and ease morphing into a questioning discomfort. Maybe it was time to table this conversation.

“I think I’ll head outside for a while. Get some fresh air. Maybe see if someone will take me to get some different clothes. I definitely don’t want to run around in my pajamas when the weather turns.” The other woman nodded with a tight-lipped smile. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“I will, thanks.”

You dipped your head and ambled out the screen door. The sun’s glare, high in the sky, was a shock to your eyes after being tucked away inside. Your hand acted as a visor against your brow as you scanned the farm. Everyone was scurrying around in their day to day activities, a sort of normalcy settling since everyone had moved into the house.

Except Daryl, of course.

You heaved a sigh at the thought of him out toward the edge of the farm alone. He could handle himself but the self isolation he was inflicting caused a heaviness in your heart that was beginning to fester. Carol had tried to bring him back and he had become irate. The things he had said to her were shared with you when the woman had finally let her tears fall against your shoulder. You wanted to throat punch him.

Maybe you would.

You saw Andrea perched on top of the RV with her rifle. You could almost picture Dale hovering behind her, as he often did. The vehicles had been moved closer to the house, providing much needed reassurance of a quick escape if it were deemed necessary. Chewing on your lip, you let your shoulders drop. It was time to bury that hatchet.

The climb up the ladder wasn’t as difficult as you thought it’d be. You weren’t thrilled about the height with your sporadic bouts of dizziness but as long as you stayed near the middle, it’d be okay.

Andrea glowered for a moment before turning back to keep watch over the fields.

“Hey.” You greeted. She didn’t respond, her eyes looking you up and down before she turned around again. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve more than that. You pointed a gun at my head.”

You had to close your eyes and take a deep breath. “You could have killed Daryl, Andrea.” You kept your tone level, holding up a hand when she spun around with no doubt a snarky retort on her tongue. “I didn’t come to argue with you. I came to apologize.”

“Yeah? Apology not accepted.”

Another deep breath. “That decision is yours to make. Nevertheless, I’m sorry. I was sick. I was exhausted. I wasn’t thinking clearly and you had just shot the man I lo— the father of my baby.” You blinked, stunned by what you’d almost said in the moment. The look that suddenly appeared on Andrea’s face conveyed she’d caught it too. You shook your head and continued, hoping both of you could just forget it. “None of those things are an excuse for what I did when it was truly a mistake. So, I’m sorry.” When you turned to climb down, you had nearly let yourself be suffocated by the weight of your near an admission. Was it an admission? Were you just emotional? Hormones? Insanity? The dream and then this?

“I won’t tell anyone.”

You turned back, catching her eye and holding it. She could. She could spread it through the group and eventually it would make its way to Daryl and you were not ready to have that conversation. After a moment, you nodded in silent thanks. “Are we good?” Your voice was weaker than you intended.

Andrea smiled, a surprising kindness in her gaze. “We’re good.”

You inexplicably wanted to cry, barely controlling the quiver of your chin. “Thanks.” Going down the ladder was a little more difficult in part to the blurred vision for which the tears were responsible.

Once your feet were on the ground, you just started to walk, no destination in mind. When your heart screamed for Daryl, your rationality stomped it down. He was your friend. Alright, you’d been closer to him than anyone else in the group. It was never supposed to be something more. You didn’t want anything more. You didn’t want a baby with him. You didn’t want to feel trapped there.

But you didn’t feel trapped, did you? The majority of that group was kind to you. They cared for you when you were ill, expecting nothing from you. Daryl, for all his tendency to an absolute asshat, had been tender with you at times. You were safe when you could have been alone, left to figure out the pregnancy and raise a baby on your own. No, you wouldn’t have made it on your own. The complications would have killed you.

You let out a sob, walking faster and allowing the tears to flow without wiping them away. Your cheeks and neck were damp. Why were you even upset? Had the world finally broken you? You thought you’d last much longer than that, but you never could have predicted the events that had led you to where you were.

And where you were was Daryl’s camp.

The archer was perched on the ground, next to a dark patch of earth surrounded by rocks; a fire pit that was currently unutilized. He was scowling when he looked up at your approach, but his expression changed; a sudden conveyance of concern as he hauled himself to his feet.

“Wha’s wrong?”

You didn’t know why you were there. The last thought of him before you spoke with Andrea was one of anger. Your body was crying out for a feeling of safety; for a shield from everything bad that could harm you or the little innocent life inside you. Somehow— for reasons you no longer had the energy to debunk —your feet took you straight to Daryl.

“Y/N?” His gruff voice spoke into your hair after you walked directly into his space, your fisted hands tucked under your chin while your face pressed into the solid warmth of his chest. He didn’t move. You didn’t want him to, not really. It would only make everything more confusing.

When he remained silent but his hand came to rest lightly against your back, you turned your hands and grabbed fistfuls of his vest. You pushed him away and hauled him right back, angry that he let you. You needed him to yell at you. You needed him to tell you that he didn’t care; that he’d only be around for you because of the baby.

When you tried to shove him again, he stood firm, his other hand coming to cradle the back of your head.

“Goddamnit, Daryl! Push me away! Shut me out!” You slapped a hand hard against his chest, fingers pulling at the leather again.

“Why?”

You couldn’t answer him. You couldn’t answer because you didn’t know. You didn’t want him to send you away. And you were so scared of that revelation that you yearned to scream just to feel something other than scattered turmoil that was enveloping your heart in a deviant swaddle of barbed wire.

Without a resolution to your emotional plight, you continued to cry until it drained everything out of you. Damn him, he just stood there with his arms around you; being the shield you so desperately needed. You wanted to hate him for it.

You wanted to, but you couldn’t.

Your sobs eventually dulled into sniffles and hiccups. After what felt like hours, your legs gave out, any strength you had when you left that bedroom was utterly spent. Daryl didn’t let you fall. You knew he wouldn’t. You weren’t tired enough to miss the way he held you up or the way he bent to sweep his arm under your knees.

You didn’t look at him while he carried you; turned your back to him when he placed you on the cot inside his tent. The flinch when he draped the sleeping bag over you was unintentional. You hoped he’d leave. Maybe he’d go out to hunt, irritated that you invaded the space he’d built for himself.

“Why’re ya here?”

Of course he didn’t. The universe hated you, that was abundantly clear now. “I… don’t know.”

“This cause’a hormones or whatever s’called?”

You snorted weakly, your hand working out from beneath the sleeping bag to wipe at your face. “What do you know about hormones, Daryl?”

“The book says—”

“Book?” You sat up on your forearm and twisted to look back at him. The archer looked annoyed, a decent flush spreading from his cheeks to the top of his ears.

“Went inta that town they go ta fer the meds n’ shit. Grabbed a, uh, book about baby stuff.” You blinked at him, earning a frown in return. “Don’ look at me like that. Yeah, I read, Y/N.”

You looked past his shoulder to where two books peeked from beneath some of his clothes. The one in question was closer, upside down and open beside the battery powered lamp.

The Expectant Father: Facts, Tips, and Advice for Dads-to-be

The small upturn of one corner of your mouth had him shifting to shield the book from your sight.

“How much have you read?”

“‘Nough ta know it ain’t much fun fer ya some’a the time.” He wouldn’t look at you now, finding interest in a piece of grass that he’d tracked inside. You hummed, a stirring in your chest that directly correlated with the feelings that had guided you there in the first place. The difference now was that you felt oddly grounded, able to focus on a single thought or feeling.

“Daryl?” He grunted without looking up. “Will you please move into the house?”

He sighed as though he’d been asked a thousand times. “Nah, too many people.”

“Then… can I stay out here with you?” It was your turn to find something to occupy your gaze. You settled on the sleeping bag zipper.

“Ya need ta be inside. Safer there.”

“I have a bedroom.” You weren’t sure how you felt about sharing a close space with the hunter, but you knew you needed him close. Tent or bedroom, you didn’t really care. “It’d just be me and you.”

The subtle shift of his jaw indicated he was chewing the inside of his cheek. Maybe you could find him something like toothpicks or straws, anything to keep him from hurting himself when he was uncomfortable.

“Why ya want me there? Ain’t like I’m miles away.”

“I feel safer with you.” Now it was you turning pink, your cheeks and neck flushing warm.

Daryl snorted. “Ya got over half a dozen people in there.”

“They’re not you.” You countered before you could think of a better way to say it. “Look, you’re the first person I met from this group. You’ve never hurt me. I trust you to fight with me.” You ducked your head. “To fight for me. To protect me if I can’t protect myself. To protect our baby.” When you met his eyes, you realized he had never looked at you the way he was at that moment. He still had that unreadable expression that you sometimes wanted to slap off of his face, but his eyes. There was something in his eyes.

“Lemme think ‘bout it.” He stated while rising to his feet. “Gotta meet ‘bout the kid later. Letcha know after.”

You didn’t want to drop the subject but at least he was going to consider it. Sitting up, you slumped on the cot, already feeling the need for a nap. Your energy levels had taken a major hit from your momentary lapse of sanity. Scratching at an itch on your belly, you were suddenly struck with the urge to share the progress note with Daryl. He was reading damn books on pregnancy. Surely he’d want to see. Right?

“Um, Daryl?”

“Yeah?” He’d stepped out to get his crossbow and bring it inside, continuing whatever he’d been doing. He still hadn’t asked you to leave. Maybe he was afraid you’d go batshit crazy a second time.

“I thought you might… well, this morning…” You furrowed your brow, groaning at your inability to put it into words. Finally, you just stood and lifted your shirt, sliding your pants down to just above your pubic bone. “I, uh, can’t get into my jeans anymore thanks to Thumper.”

Goddamn the man’s ability to maintain an expression of complete and utter stoicism. You suddenly felt self conscious, exposed. Maybe he couldn’t even see the difference. Fuck.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I think I should go.” You slipped your fingers beneath the waistband of the pants but that’s as far as you got before you felt Daryl’s fingertips on your knuckles. He didn’t say anything as he stepped closer, shining blue orbs zeroed in on your stomach. You tracked his movements, each step slow and deliberate until he was directly in front of you. Using the tip of his index finger, he drew a line from your sternum to just where your pants sat below the small curve of your belly.

“Really in there, huh?” His voice was soft and raspy and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you at all. It seemed like a moment between father and child. His palm was warm when he placed it flat just below your navel. You watched his hand, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin. It tickled but you stifled the giggle that threatened.

You opened your mouth to ask what the book said about how far along you were but when you lifted your gaze from your belly, he wasn’t looking at it at all. Deep blue pools were staring right back at you.

You knew your breaths were coming faster and your heart was beating a tattoo against your ribs. “Daryl?” Did you imagine that or did he just glance at your lips? You brought your hand to his face, barely brushing his skin when he pulled away abruptly.

“Head on back ta the house. Don’ think I’ll be movin’ in there. Better out here.” He grabbed up his weapon and turned his back to you.

You were still standing frozen, belly exposed and hand just finally dropping to your side. “Daryl, I—”

“Go.” Daryl’s voice cracked on the word.

You adjusted your clothing and stepped toward him. “Daryl—”

“GO!”

Eyes blown wide, you flinched back and stumbled from the tent. With energy you didn’t know you had, you ran and managed to make it to the house without falling though you stumbled on more than one occasion. You ignored the concerned calls of your name, nearly taking a tumble on the stairs, before finally disappearing into the bedroom and slamming the door. With your back against it, you tried and tried to catch your breath through the onslaught of tears. Your chest was tight, your stomach rolling.

Trapped in your distress, you couldn’t hear the screen door slap against the wall, Daryl’s boots heading toward the stairs, or even Carol’s accusatory shout.

“What did you do, Daryl?!”

Taglist:

@stitchintimefan @thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @deansapplepie @feral4daryl @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main @loganlostitall @sshewonders @callmeyn @queenmizuki @crazyunsexycool @zehiiro @sunnybunnyy2 @gimalo135 @lothiriel9 @lilyevanstan1325 @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @hutchersonsgurl @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bananafire11 @graciepies @alaaabdaldeen @georgiadixon @mfnqueen1 @esgoraths @fanngirl19 @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @s0urw00lf @miyah-hearts @the-lonely-abyss @bymailin @angelbunny222 @m0ss-g0blin @d0p3ys-delusions

393 notes · View notes

authorhjk1 · 5 months

Text

Interlude: Ms. Satan

(Kim Bora X Male Reader)

You immediately know it's a dream as soon as you open your eyes. Your body is that of an 18 year old. Standing in front of a large, dark building you feel shivers run down your spine.

Your friends made you do this. A bet. A bet that could earn you 200 bucks. Is it worth it? Maybe not. And yet, here you are. Although you are scared, you still want to find out what's going on in this building.

The cold night air messes up your hair. The stars and the moon seem unusual gloomy.

There are stories of some sort of ghost or witch or something. Hiding in this abandoned building. If the stories are true, no one has gone in there for two years now.

You gulp, the palms of your hands starting to sweat. The huge double doors are covered in yellow tape. "Caution" is written in big black letters all over them.

One of the doors is slightly ajar. Not creepy at all. You try to squeeze through the gap, hoping to not make a sound.

Your backpack feels heavy on your shoulders. You win the bet, when you leave this building tomorrow morning. Hopefully alive. For now, you plan to make your way to the roof, hoping to be able to sleep up there. There shouldn't be so much potential trouble up there. The problem is just getting there.

You hear your steps echo through the empty building as you start to climb the stairs. The bright circle of light from your flashlight illuminates the walls.

A cold breeze rushes through the building. You hear some weird noise further upstairs. You stop in your tracks. It sounded like someone was walking. But the sound is gone now. Maybe that was just your imagination.

You sigh as you reach the first floor. Five more to go. The circle of light keeps dancing on the walls in front of you as you begin the climb for the second floor.

Another sound. Your heart is almost in your throat. After a second you realize it's just rain. Heavy drops hitting the building and some of the broken windows down the hall.

You get a little wet as you climb the stairs, the rain making the steps slippery. But if it rains, you can't sleep on the roof.

You groan in annoyance. Your heart stops. There it is again. The sound somewhere in the building. As if someone is walking.

You ponder if you should just run. Just run for your life without looking back. There is definitely something here. Something that already seems to know about your presence.

You reach the second floor. Your senses heightened. Should you really turn back? But that would be so embarrassing. You just hurt some stuff. Probably just the wind.

You start to take the stairs to the third floor. After a couple of steps, you freeze. Your heart almost stops. The light of your flashlight shows you a scene you never wanted to see.

A woman is sitting on the stairs. Her dark eyes seem cold. And yet they look like they can burn with fire. Her dark hair is held back by a ponytail. Most of her body is covered in a black and orange fur coat. The patterns and colors remind you of lava. Two necklaces are decorating her neck and a huge golden flower ring is slipped on her finger.

The most eye catching are her boots though. They are white and almost reach her knees. The heels look quit high, which makes you think that these can't be comfortable at all. The most disturbing thing is the fact that splashes of blood are on them. Her white boots are covered in blood.

"Hello there, hero."

"Wha-What?"

Her voice sounds sultry. Her eyes seem to stare into your soul as she keeps talking.

"You are the first one after quite a while. I was almost getting bored."

"You.... You live here?"

She chuckles. It's a beautiful sound. For some reason you expected it to sound evil. Like that of a witch.

"Of course not. But I do feel some sort of connection to this place."

You hesitantly nod. She seems nice, but you would argue that her boots say otherwise.

"What's you name, hero?"

"It's-It's (y/n). But why do you keep calling me that?"

The woman chuckles again.

"Only heroes are brave enough to face me."

"Ah."

You nod in fake understanding. This woman seems to be a little out of her mind. Or is this actually something supernatural?

"You are here because you want to feel my warmth though, am I right?"

"Your-Your, sorry, what?"

"My warmth. The people in this area send me dozens of heroes over the last hundreds of years."

What is she talking about? Is she actually that old? But she can't be human then.

"Y-You are here for over a hundred years?"

"Don't young men like you prefer an older woman?"

"What?"

Another chuckle.

"You don't seem to have a clue what's going on."

"I-I don't."

The woman slowly let's her fur coat glide off her shoulders. Her black top is decorated with some lace around her cleavage. The straps show of her naked shoulders. She rests her chin on her hand.

"I will make this night the best of your life."

"R-Really?"

"Really."

Her smile seems a little warmer now then before.

"Come closer."

She motions you with a finger to step towards her. You do so. Her boot is right next to your leg now.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?"

You blush as you shake your head. The woman reaches out. Before you can react, she traces the outlines of your dick with a finger over your jeans.

"Virgins are always the best ones. They are so eager to please."

It seems like she said that to herself.

"Let me see that cock of yours."

She has been staring at it, but is now looking up at you.

"W-What?"

"Come on,boy. Take it out for me."

You gulp. Her voice has become a little deeper. More seductive.

As you open your jeans, you realize that you don't have a choice. As if she is making you do it.

Your pants drop. And a second later, your underwear does the same. The cold air makes you shiver as you are now completely naked from the waist down.

"Not bad."

The woman let's her fingertips dance over your length. You jerk away at first. Her hand is warmer than you expected. It's almost hot.

"What is that? Six inches?"

You nod as she wraps her hand around your cock. As she slowly starts to stroke you, you feel yourself harden.

Your desire to fuck her slowly starts to rise. You were scared at first. But it seems like she really wants this.

"What do you think about making it a little bigger?"

"W-What?"

There is that melodic chuckle again.

"Don't worry. It will only benefit you in the future."

You hesitate before you nod.

Your core starts to heat up and you see your dick starting to grow very slowly. In length and in girth. Six inches become seven, then eight and then nine.

"That's more like it."

The woman stops stroking you. She sticks her tongue out, letting it swirl around your tip.

You groan. You never felt this before.

Her lips slowly wrap around you. Your dick feels heavier than before. She looks up at you as she starts to suck you off. Her tongue is pressed against the underside of your shaft as she slowly takes more.

The woman retreats while stroking you again.

"And you taste good, too."

She winks, before sliding your cock into her mouth once more. The warmth heats up your whole body. Her saliva starts to coat your dick as she keeps sliding down your length.

You slowly start to enter her throat. You can feel it by the way her walls tighten around you. There is more friction now. She doesn't stop though. She keeps going and going.

Your eyes are wide in surprise and pleasure. You did watch some videos before, but none of the women were able to do it this easily. Especially without gagging. But for her it seems like a piece of cake.

You slide further down her throat. How is she taking all of that? She looks up at you, when she finally reaches your base. Your whole cock is inside her mouth and throat. Her walls massage your cock as she breaths, making you a little dizzy. How does this feel so good?

You see her using a finger to point at her throat. You crook your head the side. A visible bulge has formed in her throat. A familiar tug starts to build up in your core as you watch her place her hand on her own throat.

You feel the pressure of her hand as she pushes against her throat a little. Needing to tighten your grip on the flashlight you are holding, you try to hold it in. You don't want to cum so fast.

Your head starts to spin as she slowly retreats. Inch after inch leaves her throat and mouth. It's all covered in a thick layer of saliva.

"Does that feel good?"

Her question and her voice sound so innocent. As if she didn't just swallow your whole cock. You nod as she strokes your spit covered cock slowly.

"I think it's time to repay the favour."

She kisses your tip with her plump lips, before standing up.

"Get on your knees for mommy."

You are surprised by her calling herself mommy. And yet it does seem kinda fitting. You do as she says, kneeling down on the stairs.

The woman steps a step down, now standing almost directly above you. You are able to look underneath her black mini skirt. Her black panties have a golden miniature bell in the front.

"You have never eaten pussy, have you?"

You shake your head. You have seen it in the videos though.

"Stick out your tongue."

Once again, you feel as if you don't have choice. Before you can think about it, your tongue already leaves your mouth.

"Such a good boy."

She murmurs, while reaching out with her hand that's decorated with the big ring. Her finger slowly glides over your tongue. You feel it tingle a little, until she removes her finger.

"That should do."

The woman cups your cheek, while looking into your eyes.

"Now eat out mommy."

You reach underneath her skirt. Feeling the light fabric in your hands, you start to pull down her panties. The small bell jingles a little. It's barely audible.

You slide her panties down her legs. When you reach her boots, you fumble around a little, trying to get them over the white material. The fact that there is blood on them has already become unimportant to you.

Once they hit the floor, she steps out of them and kicks them aside. You straighten your back, now able to reach her pussy with your mouth. You are about to have your first taste, when you suddenly feel her hand in your hair. She pulls you back.

"You can't just go in there, honey. You have to start slowly."

You do as she says. You kiss her skin right above her right knee, before switching to the left. Slowly, you make your way up her creamy thighs. Her smooth skin tastes quite good. Not something you expected.

You become hungrier with every second. She sighs as you close in on her pussy, kissing the insides of her thighs.

Now that you are going slower, you can take a good look at her center.

Her pink pussy is hidden behind her folds, her clit barely peeking out. She is cleanly shaven, the skin just as smooth as her legs. You can see her lips glisten with arousal after your exploration of her thighs.

"Oh damn!"

She moans as you swipe your tongue through her folds. You have never done this before. And yet, your seem to know what you are doing. Or rather, your mouth knows what it's doing. It must be because of that thing she did with your tongue. A spell or something.

You begin to eat out the black haired woman. Moan after moan starts to spill from her lips. You push your tongue inside her pussy. Then, you swipe across her clit, drawing different shapes.

"Fuck. I shouldn't have given you this ability."

Her knees buckle as she gets overwhelmed by your new found skills. She has to hold onto your hair for support. You feel the wide sleeve of her fur coat rest on your head.

"Hold onto my waist."

You do as she says, holding her underneath the coat. Her skin feels a little warmer underneath your hands now.

"What a good boy."

She sighs and you can feel her, throwing her head back in bliss.

"You wanna make mommy cum, don't you?"

As if your body knows what to do to increase her pleasure, you nod. Because your mouth is still attached to her snatch, you make the woman's legs buckle again. The new sensation almost too much for her.

You feel her pussy becoming wetter as you feast on it. No spot stays untouched as you make sure to drive this unknown woman to her orgasm.

"Eat my pussy like the toy you are."

Her voice has become more sultry again as she nears her climax. Her grip on your hair becomes stronger. You feel her nails dig into your scalp.

"Mommy is gonna cum!"

She loudly announces her orgasm.

You keep up your work as she starts to cum. Her juices flood your tongue as she cums in your mouth. Her thighs close instinctively, trapping your head between them. Your face is pressed further against her pussy as she pulls at your hair.

You hear the woman breath heavily as she starts to come back to her senses. She parts her legs again, but doesn't loosen her grip on your hair. She pushes your head out of her pussy and makes you look up at her.

"You want to become a man?"

Her question sends shivers down your spine. You have never done this before. Especially not with a woman who seems to be supernatural.

But you know that the answer is yes.

She can see it in your eyes, her smile urging you on.

After letting go of your hair, she leans against the wall to your right. One foot on the step you are kneeling on, the other one step above.

"Come here then. Treat me like a man would treat me."

You almost jump to your feet, unable to hide your excitement. Standing right in front of her, you place your feet on the same steps like she did. She is a little smaller than you and yet, her pussy is on the perfect hight for your cock, due to her heels. It's tip grazes against her lower lips already.

"Put it in."

She whispers as she slings her arms around your neck.

"Take me."

You look down, as you start to part her folds. For the first time in your life, you start to penetrate a woman's most intimate area.

Her walls squeeze your cock tightly as you push forward. You go slowly, not wanting to hurt her. She bites her lip as she looks up at you.

"Give me all of it. All of your cock."

You feel her pussy molding around you as you penetrate her further. As if her cunt is reshaping itself to fit your cock like a tight sleeve.

You groan as you finally bottom out inside of her.

"Fuck. That's a good boy."

She bites your earlobe slightly, before whispering in your ear.

"Put your hands on my hips. And then, fuck me. Fuck me good."

You place your hands on her sides once more as you nod.

"That's good!"

You see her closing her eyes as you slowly pull out. Her pussy seems to try to keep you inside as you struggle to even pull out half of your cock.

You push back inside, making the woman lean her head against the wall.

"Faster, boy."

You do as she says, finally convinced you are not able to hurt her like this.

Your thrusts become faster and stronger. Her wetness makes a little easier to slide in and out.

More lewd words and moans are thrown your way as you start to actually fuck her. You nail her against the wall with every thrust, before you retreat. Then, you pull her body towards you as you thrust forward, pinning her against the wall yet again.

You keep your steady pace. Her moans increase in volume as she feels your cock hit the right spot deep inside her body.

"That's it. Pound your mommy like a good toy."

You fuck her harder. You pull her forward harsher, before slamming her against the wall.

The longer you keep fucking this woman, the longer your primal desires take over. You care less and less about your surroundings. You only care about her. Her and her pussy.

How rough you are with her doesn't matter anymore. You have to take from her as much pleasure as you can. Use her body to make yourself cum.

The woman seems to have sensed the change of your nature.

"That's it, boy. "

She moans into your ear.

"Fuck me like the slut I am. Use my hole until you cum."

You let out a groan as you think about cuming. You realize that you are lasting longer than ever before. When you do this on your own, it usually takes just a few minutes. But you feel like you have been fucking her four half an hour. Maybe that's another thing that changed, when she made your dick grow.

"Pound me with that cock of yours. I want to feel all your cum on my face."

Her words make you want to step up your game. You feel her increasing wetness as her juices slowly dribble out of the connection between your bodies.

"Fuck. You're gonna make mommy cum again."

You groan, close to your own orgasm as well. You don't know if you can survive her climaxing around your cock. Her pussy is already incredibly tight.

"Yes! Make mommy cum around that big cock of yours!"

You strengthen the grip on her hips, trying to use it to thrust into her just a little harder.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

You almost scream as well as you feel her orgasm. Her walls tighten around you, trying to milk you. Her nails scratch at the back of your neck. Lewd sounds leave her mouth, which is dangerously close to your ear. Her legs buckle.

You stop thrusting, giving her time to regain her composure. It takes her a couple of moments.

Once she has come down, she looks at you hungrily.

"Increasing your length and stamina was a good call."

She traces your jawline with a finger.

"But the best feature is your cum. From now on, you will drown every woman in cum."

"What?"

You are too stunned to speak. Partially because you are still trying to recover as well, while her pussy is still hugging you tight. You believe she is exaggerating.

"You don't trust me?"

Her hand wanders to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair. You suddenly feel her pussy tighten around you. You can't believe she is able to adjust the size of her cunt. She squeezes you, making your cock twitch inside of her. You feel overwhelmed as she pulls at your hair at the same time. Her pussy is almost painfully tight by now.

"I trust you. I trust you!"

You sigh as you feel her releasing her grip. Both around your cock and on your hair.

"A toy doesn't question it's mommy. Understood?"

You nod.

"Good. Now be a good boy and cum on my face."

She pushes you away, making you slowly glide out of her pussy.

You watch her sit down on the stairs, like she did as you first saw her.

"Your cock looks so tasty with all my cum on it."

She takes you into her mouth, making you groan. Her lips wrap around you, her cheeks hollow. You feel her tongue dance along your cock, teasing and edging you. There is no way you are going to last much longer.

As the woman sucks you off again, you feel a tug in your stomach. It's a little stronger than it usually is. Maybe because you actually had sex? Or because you have more cum? You don't know. But it feels so good.

She doesn't even need to take your entire length down her throat again. Her lips have reached the middle of your cock as you feel yourself twitching.

Her eyes are wide with lust, demanding you to cum right now.

You can't hold back. A new kind of rush fills your system.

The first shot of cum hits the back of her throat, before she is able to react. She moves her head away, pointing your cock towards her face with one hand.

You have to hold onto the steel banister as you start to paint her face. Rope after rope of cum covers her perfect skin. Some lands on her lips. More lands on her closed eyelids, making them visibly heavier. It's dripping down her forehead, while the hair that frames her face is coated in cum as well.

But it still doesn't stop. You give her so much, that it starts to drop down from her chin. She tries to save it by opening her mouth and letting her tongue roam around. But a second after her mouth is opened, it's almost overflowing with your cum already. She has to gulp it down, preventing herself from choking and suffocating as more and more runs down her throat.

Once you finally finish cuming, you almost don't even dare to look at her.

Her whole face is covered by a thick layer of white, sticky cum. She can only open her eyes halfway, the cum on her eyelids weighing them down.

"What did I tell you?"

She chuckles, before she starts to lap up your cum from her face. Not just with her tongue, but her finger as well.

"This is even more than I expected. Probably because this was your first time."

You are unable to respond, still trying to comprehend what has happened in the last hour. For some reason her cum covered face turns you on again. The desire, to use her body, from earlier is slowly coming back.

When she looks up at you, you see her licking her finger for the last time. Her face is mostly cleaned up.

She seems to sense your new found desire. A smile forms around her lips.

"That's right, boy. You want to fuck me again, don't you?"

You nod hesitantly.

"You can't take your eyes off me. You want to feel every part of my body underneath your hands."

You nod again. Her words make your cock hard.

"I still have some time, before my husband comes home."

"W-What?"

You didn't even think about the possibility of her being married.

"Don't worry about him. He never pays attention to me anyways."

She reaches forward, letting her hand stroke your cock again.

"I'm always trying to teach boys like you something new. But I've already given you my mouth and my pussy."

She kisses the tip of your cock, her eyes a little darker.

"There is one more hole of mine that you can use. Make my ass cum. And maybe I will se you again after tonight."

The man on his throne laughs as he looks at the flames. His red body is glistening with sweat, screams of fear echo in the distance. Through the flames, he watches you stand behind his wife, aligning your cock with her rear entrance.

"You always corrupt the good ones."

He laughs to himself, his voice raspy and dark.

As you push inside of her, he can hear her moan, telling you to cum in her ass later.

Satan grins as he stands up, ready to punish the sinners that are burning in hell.

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

Hi everyone!

Enjoy this interlude. It wasn't planned at all, but after seeing SuA's Instagram post..... What am I supposed to say?

Hope you guys like the concept.

I'm excited for the new album.

Have a nice day!

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher smut #kim bora #bora

429 notes · View notes

writingonleaves · 1 month

Text

understated, overwhelming (life is always best when you're around) - nico hischier

pairing: nico hischier x self insert gender neutral reader

warnings: swearing, fluff, nothing much else!

title: "float" by HARBOUR

word count: 3.6k

author's note: hi hi hi!! tried something out of my comfort zone with a self insert reader. also tried my absolute best with a gender neutral reader but if i made a glaring mistake somewhere, please call me out! this is my entry for @callsign-denmark 's Luck of The Puck Fic Exchange written for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten !! andi, i'm so sorry this is a bit late but hope you enjoy this little piece as much as i enjoyed writing it (:

~*~*~

You consider yourself a pretty nice person.

You try to do your day job well, even if your supervisor drives you nuts from time to time. You call your mom every week, even if she thinks it should be more. You always help your elderly neighbor with their groceries if you happen to be outside at the same time. You foster dogs, mainly because your family has been doing it since you were young.

But right now, as music is booming through the walls that is most definitely not the music you have softly playing on your speaker, you’re not feeling very nice. It had been a tiring day at work and all you want to do is snuggle up in your bed with a book. Whatever rap music is playing through the walls from your neighbor isn’t helping.

You’re debating about whether you should say something. Firstly, you’re 90% sure it’s coming from the apartment across from you whose inhabitant you actually have seen the least. It’s not like you’re stalking your neighbors, but after living here for over two years now, you’re familiar with the faces. The only thing you know about the person who lives in 1708 is that there are two of them and that they look related. But that’s not even a sure fact.

All you know is right now, they’re getting on your last nerve.

You scratch behind Boba’s ears, the Jack Russell Terrier you’re currently fostering, and pat his head before you decide that you have to go say something. You gain some courage before opening your front door.

Turns out, you don’t even have to knock on your neighbors’ door. More accurately, it’s already open as a guy around your age, maybe a bit younger, says goodbye to the guy you’re almost positive lives there. Both the guys’ eyes slide to you and you fight the urge to shrink.

“Hi,” the guy with his hand on the doorknob says, not unkindly. “Can I help you?”

You blink, “Hi. Listen, I really don’t want to be a bitch, but could you turn your music down? It’s a weeknight and I have to work in the morning.”

To his credit, his eyes widen apologetically. “Shit, yeah, of course. Sorry. I didn’t realize it was so loud. We’re about to wrap up anyways.” You wave him off as he sticks his hand out. “I don’t know if we’ve met. I’m Jack.”

You offer your name with a tight-lipped smile before shifting your eyes towards the other guy, floppy hair almost covering the amused glint in his eyes. He’s been leaning against the wall this whole time and he’s really fucking cute. “And you are?”

“Nico,” he nods with a shake of your hand. “I’m also sorry about the noise on behalf of Jack, even though I don’t live here.”

“It’s fine,” you hear Boba’s paws trotting on the hardwood floor and you stick your foot out to prevent him from running out. “Well, it’s nice to meet you both.”

Jack’s eyes trail down to Boba, who's looking at the two new voices with curious eyes. “And who’s this?”

You hold in a sigh, picking up Boba in your arms so he doesn’t start running down the hallway. “This is Boba. You can pet him if you’d like. He loves people.” Jack needs no further invitation and reaches to scratch behind his ears. Nico is a bit more hesitant, but the grin threatening to spill out of his lips has you softening.

After more pets, Jack apologizes again and you bid them goodnight, ushering Boba back inside and turning off your lights. You hear no music, thank goodness, as you climb into bed.

A few weeks later you’re waiting for the elevator after a walk with Gretchen, a golden retriever who drives you nuts, when Nico runs in just as it closes. You don’t expect him to remember you, but he does, saying your name softly paired with a nod.

He gestures towards Gretchen, who’s nipping about at your feet. “That’s not Boba, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” you say. “This is Gretchen. Boba got adopted last week.” He opens his mouth but you beat him to it. “I foster dogs. None of them are mine. Just, you know, giving them a home when they need it before they find their permanent home.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

You shrug, because it’s not that big of a deal. To you, at least. “My family did it growing up, still does. So it’s a part of me now, I guess.” You switch the topic. “What are you up to on this sunny Saturday?”

“I, uh, working, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you do?”

Nico clears his throat and now you’re intrigued. “I play hockey. Professionally. That’s how I know Jack, actually. And his roommate, who’s also his brother. We’re all teammates.”

You squint a bit, eyes scanning over Nico’s face before nodding slowly. “That somehow makes sense. That would explain the weird hours.”

“You keep track of Jack’s in and outs?”

“Considering I didn’t even know his name until the night we all met, no,” you snort as you both step into the elevator. “I just hear their door open and close at weird times. So, working today?"

“Yeah. We have a game tonight.”

“Gotcha.” You press the button for ‘17,’ not expecting Nico to lean over and press ‘21’ himself.

He must see your confusion. “I also live in this building,” he explains.

You blink. “How long?”

“A little over a year now, but as you figured out, it’s weird hours.”

A beautiful man like him has been living in the same building as you for that long and you haven’t ever run into him?

You nod, watching the handsome man bend down and coo at Gretchen, who licks his hand, that traitor. You did notice the first time you met him that he was really cute, but you were also really tired and cranky because of the noise. But here in the daylight, with a black beanie tossed over his hair and kindness in his eyes?

You need to get out of this elevator fast before you say something stupid.

Luckily, the pinging sound lets you know you’ve arrived on your floor. You give the leash a gentle hug before trying to give Nico a genuine smile. “Good luck at your game tonight.”

You rush out before there's even a chance for him to reply, Gretchen trotting along happily beside you.

*****

Something that sounds an awful lot like a smoke alarm going off greets you as you’re walking down the hallway to your place after work. It’s coming from Jack’s apartment, causing you to snort. You decide to knock on the door to make sure everything is alright.

It’s not Jack or his brother you have yet to meet yet who opens the door, but Nico. Over his shoulder, you see someone who looks a lot like Jack fanning a pillow. You do hear Jack cursing and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused. “You don’t live here.”

“Ouch.” He teases back. “That’s no way to treat a neighbor.”

“I think it’s quite nice of me to check up on my neighbor when I hear their smoke alarm going off, actually,” you shoot back. The playfulness in your voice surprises even you, but there’s something about the brown-haired man that makes you immediately comfortable. You feel like you’ve known him for years, even though you really don’t know anything about him. And you don’t count the things you had found when you searched “jack nico new jersey hockey” after you ran into Nico in the elevator.

(Finding out that you live across from one of the seemingly most skilled players in the NHL and that you also met the captain, another highly-skilled player, was a moment that had your head spinning. You had to shut down your laptop and play with Boba afterwards to get yourself togetherr)

The alarm stops beeping and Jack’s head pokes up behind Nico’s shoulder. “Hi neighbor!”

You can’t help but laugh at his boyishness. “Hey Jack.”

“Everything alright?”

“I think I should be asking you that question. I’m just coming back from work and I heard the alarm.”

Jack grimaced, casting a look back into his apartment. “Yeah, I don’t think dinner will be salvageable but that’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” the guy you presume is Jack’s brother grumbles.

Jack whacks him across the stomach. “Shut up. This is Luke, my younger brother.”

You nod with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Luke.” An idea pops in your mind. “I was gonna try a new lasagna recipe today. Do you three wanna come over in a bit?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Nico assures.

But you wave him away. “I never proportion my shit right anyways, so you’d actually all be doing me a favor. It shouldn’t take too long either.”

“Nico’s right,” Jack says. “That’s a really nice offer, but-”

“I won’t set off the smoke alarm,” you sing playfully. That seems to do it, as they laugh. They still seem hesitant, so you compromise. “How about this? Got any vegetable dishes up your sleeve?”

Jack brightens up. “I was gonna make a greek salad as a side before we almost burnt down the apartment.”

You beam. “Perfect. You guys can go make that while I get started on the lasagna.”

Before you can turn on your heel, Nico pipes up. “I can help you with the lasagna, if you want?” He casts a look at Jack and Luke. “I don’t wanna be around in case they somehow mess up the salad.”

The brothers start protesting as you laugh, slightly nervous at the prospect of spending some decent alone time with Nico. “Sure. It’ll probably go a bit faster with a set of extra hands.”

With that, Jack and Luke head back to their place while you fiddle with the key to yours, feeling Nico’s presence behind you. You push open the door and kick off your shoes as he does the same. He surveys your apartment as you hang up your coat. You pat yourself on the back for actually cleaning it yesterday rather than flopping in bed like you had initially wanted to.

As you start gathering ingredients, you let Nico explore, his eyes darting around your living space. You wonder what he thinks about the pictures you have on your wall of your family and friends, half expecting him to ask about them. But he keeps quiet as you turn on the stove, meandering over and waiting for instructions.

He’s a good sous chef, all things considered. Not that lasagna is particularly a hard recipe, but there’s something quite intimate about cooking with someone you barely know. Though, as you’re cooking, you tell Nico about your job, your background, how you didn’t necessarily think you’d end up in Jersey but that you’re happy to be here anyways. In turn, he tells you about his family, Switzerland and hockey, though you can tell he purposefully glazes over the latter. Judging from the basic research you’ve done — and whatever praises your hockey-loving cousin drawled on about over the phone yesterday — you immediately conclude that Nico is humble, always turning the conversation back to you.

It’s quite lovely, even if unexpected. The lasagna is almost done by the time Jack and Luke knock on your door.

For a few brief moments, you panic, wondering why you thought this was a good idea. What do you have in common with three pro-hockey players? But that panic quickly dissipates, Luke seeing the tiny Ohio State magnet on your fridge (your uncle’s, not yours) and immediately lightheartedly trash talking you as Jack and Nico take over setting up the table and plates.

You close your front door that night with three new numbers in your phone and an unofficial promise from you to catch a game in person sometime.

*****

You love Gretchen, you really do, but damn, she’s a lot of work.

You’re lucky that your job has flexible hours, because Gretchen’s barking would probably drive your neighbors insane if she was left alone in your apartment all day. She’s starting to drive you insane.

Somehow, she was well behaved at the outdoor market you went to today, so you give her a few treats to nibble on as you go back downstairs to grab everything else. As you’re shutting the door of your car, a bag slips out of your grasp and everything spills out, causing you to groan.

“You alright there?”

You look up from where you’re bending down to grab your things to see Nico briskly walking over from his car, an amused look on his face. You chuckle a bit. “Yeah. This bag decided just to crap out on me. Luckily, there’s nothing really breakable in there.”

He picks up some bath bombs and a loofah in minor confusion. The furrow in his eyebrows is kinda adorable. “What’s this for?”

“One of my coworkers is about to get married so all of us pitched in to get some spa products. I volunteered to put it together to make a gift basket of sorts.”

He hums, swinging the now-filled bag over his shoulder and walking alongside you as you head into the building. “That’s really nice of you. And a good idea for a gift too.”

“Yeah. To be fair, the spa stuff wasn’t necessarily my idea. I just had time to buy them today and I have a knack for making pretty baskets.”

“I should take some notes,” Nico says. “I have a couple friends back in Switzerland getting married soon and need to get them gifts.”

“You wanna come up and help me put it together?”

Nico visibility hesitates as you two wait for the elevator. “I don’t want to intrude in your plans.”

“I have no plans,” you deadpan. “It’s a Sunday. I’m surprised I even got myself to go to the market today.”

He laughs. “Well, in that case…” he presses the button for your floor, but not his. “Any dogs you got in your home right now?”

“Still Gretchen,” you say. “She’s being extra bitchy today though, so sorry in advance for all the barking.” You guys walk into your apartment, and Gretchen barks once before perching her head, begging for pets. Nico gives them to her and she curls up against him. You snort. “Oh, I see how it is, Gretch. You see a cute boy and suddenly you’re well behaved?”

Nico looks up from where he’s crouched to pet Gretchen. “You think I’m cute?” Oh. Shit. You just glare at him as he smirks, nodding at your bags. “What else are you putting in the basket?”

“A bunch of soaps, a really fluffy bathrobe one of our other coworkers found on Amazon, some candles, these facemasks I ordered from Korea…all the good stuff.”

He watches as you take out the empty basket, some wrapping paper, and a few colorful ribbons. You honestly don’t consider yourself very crafty, but after doing a few gift boxes like this in your life, this is something that you pride yourself in doing decently well.

“Can you reach into the drawer across from the sink and hand me the scissors, please?” You ask. Nico abides, sliding the scissors across the counter.

“I think the same, by the way.”

You blink, measuring out the length of the ribbons correctly. “Hm?”

“I think you’re cute too.”

It takes all your control to cut the ribbon carefully before looking up at him. You see him swallow, confident with a hint of hesitation. You look down and try to steady your hands. “Well, depending on how good you are at cutting wrapping paper, I might have to keep you around.”

“Helping you out with dinner that night wasn’t enough?”

“The real test is seeing if you know how to wrap gifts.”

“I don’t.”

You can’t help but snort. “Figures.”

“So, what?” You look up to see Nico giving you a look that makes your stomach flip. He tilts his head to the side, trying to find something in your face. You’re not sure what. “You’re gonna kick me out?”

One side of your lips quirk up as Gretchen barks. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

*****

You and Nico become fast friends. To be honest, it’s not like you see each other all the time, with your normal work schedule and his abnormal one. But more often than not, when Nico asks if you’re around, you usually are. It starts with more homecooked dinners, which turns into trying new restaurants because it’s more reasonable to go with someone else so you can order more at a time, which turns into you seeing some new event happening or shop opening up and thumbing over to your text thread with him asking him if he wants to join. Nine times out of ten, unless he’s on a road trip, he’s free.

Sometimes Jack and Luke join. Most times they don’t. You’re not offended. Jack and Luke are a bit younger and have their own friends. They remind you of your younger cousins.

The thing is, you just enjoy Nico’s company. You learn about his goals, his insecurities, the things that bring him joy. He’s kind, considerate and so incredibly interesting. You feel so comfortable around him, whether you’re yapping away about childhood stories or in silence walking around the streets of Newark.

When you finally take up your neighbors’ offer to go to a Devils game after many nagging texts for the Hughes brothers, Nico knocks on your door within minutes, unexpectedly pulling you into a tight hug. You’re taken aback, but his dimpled smile is worth it.

You take one of your closest friends and have a wonderful time. You’re not much of a hockey fan, but your friend is, happy to talk you through icings and delayed penalties and offsides. Your eyes track 43 and 86 as your friend raves about the “Hughes skating.” But most of the time, you’re eyeing the one with the 13 and the C, who takes a deep breath before every face off.

For your first game, it’s a fun one, a nail biter that ends in a 4-2 win against the Minnesota Wild. You shoot Jack, Luke and Nico all a text congratulating them on a good game.

It’s when you’re in bed that night do you really thumb through their replies, Nico’s simple heart emoji making you fall asleep with a smile.

*****

Besides being a nice person, you also consider yourself to have a decent memory.

Until there’s a knock on your door that has you confused. You put down your tea, petting Moose, the dalmatian you’ve been looking after recently, as you walk to the door.

Nico looks so cozy, a black Kith sweatshirt with a beanie over his hair. He blinks at you. You blink back.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, amused even if a bit confused. “What’s up? Did we have plans tonight?”

“No, well, not pre-planned.” Nico bends down to pet Moose, who he met yesterday when you guys went to a new coffee shop. “You busy?”

“And what if I was?”

“You’d cancel for me anyways,” he teases.

And the thing is, he’s right. You sigh playfully. “Fine. Gimme a few minutes to get dressed.”

Nico grabs the leash off the hook. “Moose is coming too.”

“Oh?”

He flicks his hand. “Go get dressed.”

“Bossy,” you comment, before walking to your bedroom.

It turns out your plans are a newly opened dog park that you’ve heard about but haven’t gotten the chance to check out. Moose is immediately excited, and your heart does something funny when you see Nico calm him down so he doesn’t run anyone over. Nico told you he hadn't grown up with dogs, but you wouldn’t know with how gentle he is with every dog you’ve fostered during your friendship thus far.

After playing with Moose for a bit, he collapses on the grass, allowing you and Nico to sit and also relax.

“You look happy.”

You turn to Nico with a smile. “I am.”

“Good. All I want is for you to be happy.”

You swallow and take a deep breath. “Nico.”

“What?”

“You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you whisper. You swear the space between you both has decreased.

“Because what?”

You huff. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes fondly, staring down at the grass for a few seconds before looking into his eyes again. “You can’t say things like that because then you’ll make me believe that I have a chance to be with you. To be more than friends.”

“And why is that so hard to believe?”

What?

“What?” You ask.

“Is it such a hard thing to believe?” Nico asks gently. His cologne is filling your senses now and you’re so overwhelmed. “The chance to be with you would be an honor.”

“Nico.”

“What?”

“You’re fucking with me.”

He chuckles, “I’m not.” He leans in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek and you kinda wanna die. “So, what do you say? Wanna give it a shot?”

“Are you sure?”

“Never been sure of anything more in my life.” His confidence is back and it makes you wanna kiss him silly.

You take his hand and squeeze it in yours. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. Let’s give it a shot. On one condition though.”

“Anything.”

“You’re helping me with all these dogs. I still don’t know how you got Gretchen to like you. She barely liked me.”

Nico laughs loudly. It makes you grin. “What can I say? I must be special.”

You bite your lip. Yeah. He really is.

You watch as Moose suddenly has energy again and trots between you two, licking Nico’s face. He scrunches his nose in delight and you feel like the sun is suddenly shining brighter.

#k writes #luck of the puck fic exchange #nico hischier #devils #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nhl #nhl blurb #nico hischier blurb #nhl fanfiction #nico hischier x you #hockey writing #nhl writing #hockey blurb

225 notes · View notes

pendarling · 10 months

Text

In The Rain

Thx for 1k+! This is a lot longer than anything I've ever written. This piece is specifically dedicated to June's Men's Mental Health Awareness Month

It had been a long day after work.

Hero didn't like that just being a hero didn't fulfill the requirements for getting paid enough to do their bills. It was annoying, yes, but after a hard day at work and finally finishing their taxes, Hero decided to reward themselves with something to eat.

Although it was raining outside, the curry stand in the neighbourhood was one of the best. They've been craving it all week.

Hero sat at the end of the table on a stool. A small shabby canopy spread above them, hiding them from the pelting bolts of the rain.

"Thank you." Hero took the plate of rice and lamb curry, their favourite. The teen behind the stand smiled at them and left to continue working on their homework at the back.

With cold hands, Hero picked up the spoon and immediately savoured the taste of the curry. It was an intoxicating flavour they couldn't get out of their head.

Within minutes they found themselves enjoying their time.

"Alone, Hero?" A cool whisper came from behind them. Hero froze in their spot, recognizing the voice instantly.

"Villain…" they whispered back.

Villain sat on the stool next to them, eyeing their face and enjoying their reaction.

"I'm impressed you know who I am. I thought I'd have to identify myself to you." They gave a crooked smirk; their clothes were covered in drops of water.

They weren't sure how the other found them. Though they always knew they were strategic when they made their moves. It shouldn't have surprised them the way it did when Hero locked eyes with their worse nemesis in the most unexpected of places. Yet, it did.

Villain tapped their knuckles onto the table. "Hey, let me have whatever they're having." Villain gestured in their direction. An older gentleman behind the counter glanced over and gave a curt nod.

Hero swallowed timidly. They weren't sure what Villain planned to do with them. Honestly, it should be evident that they were at risk as soon as they decided to become a hero. Hero regretted not bringing a weapon. It seemed after weeks of hard labour, they didn't consider themselves more than their weighing bills.

They hesitantly looked at Villain.

And they stared back.

Their eyes shot down to their plate. Their appetite slowly disappeared for fear of getting attacked.

"So, where have you been, Hero?" They heard the stool beside them creak and sensed them lean in.

Hero considered playing dumb and pretend they had mistaken them for someone else, but quickly shut that idea down when they realized they already said Villain's name earlier.

"Look, I don't want to fight here." They shakingly whispered, "If you want to take this somewhere else, that's fine. Just not here."

Villain chuckled, the sound of thunder seemingly echoing the laughter. For some reason, at that moment, Hero felt more fear for Villain than any storm.

Large waves of hot smoke seeped out from the food stand. It clashed with the frigid air, and usually, it was a lovely atmosphere, but today they feared associating a time like this with their encounter with Villain.

A plate set in front of Villain, they averted their attention to the server. "Oh, and uh… I'll take their bill too." Villain gave Hero a quick pat on the shoulder and slid the server a bill.

"I don't owe you anything." Hero spoke.

They shrugged, unconcerned, "I didn't do that because I want a favour. I only did that to show you I mean no harm, really."

Hero doubted it. Villain picked up the spoon and dipped it into the curry hesitantly. "What is this stuff anyway?" They smelled it lightly. Hero felt amused at their findings, and the look of confusion from Villain had reminded them that even their worse enemy was still a human in some aspects.

Hero pushed their rice to one side. Villain curiously peeked over at them as they began scooping the rice and curry into a piece of naan bread. Hero picked it up with their hand and ate it calmly, still trying to devise a plan to evade Villain.

"What are you doing?" Villain asked.

Hero let the taste simmer in their mouth for a moment before replying. "Eating. What do you want me to do?"

"With your hands?"

"You don't have to use your hands."

Villain looked down at their plate and lifted the flatbread. They tore a piece from the corner and bit into it.

Hero signalled their eyes down at the curry and back up again. Villain picked up their spoon and ate the curry. They took a few seconds to evaluate what they were eating.

"Well?" Hero waited.

"It's not bad."

They sat together, eating until the rain lightened up. By the time they were finished, Hero could still smell the spices on their fingers no matter how often they wiped it off.

Villain turned to them. "Alright, let's go" They stood up, and Hero saw them pat at their pocket. It was likely some weapon they kept on themselves. They didn't take Villain as someone who'd hurt them, but the eerie deliverance of their words was unsettling enough to get them to follow Villain.

They strolled toward a dark, sleet car parked beside the busy road up ahead. The clouds were just about dispersing, and as far as Hero could tell, it was late into the evening.

Villain opened the passenger side door, an arm blocking them from behind. Probably to prevent them from running away, although they didn't have the energy to do all that after eating so much. They tilted their head, and Hero took that as a command to get inside.

From the passenger side compartment, Villain removed a pair of handcuffs.

"Are you serious?" Hero wondered what they had gotten themselves into.

"Sorry," they opened the cuffs, "hold out your hand for me."

They scoffed but did so accordingly. They lifted their right hand. The cuffs locked their wrist loosely with a small click, and the other side clipped onto the side of the chair. "This is ridiculous."

Villain shut the door and walked to the other side. They slammed their side shut and turned the engine on. "No seatbelt?"

They looked over at them. Hero shook their wrist with the cuff.

"Right." They sheepishly laughed and moved across them to fix their belt. Hero sunk in deeper into their seat to avoid contact. Their face lit up brightly at the proximity.

Cinnamon.

Villain smelled of cinnamon. Despite sitting at a curry shop for an hour and a half with them, despite the overwhelming spices and despite the sweet rain surrounding them, Villain smelt like cinnamon. Hero's hands stilled when they felt them slightly brush against their own.

"Is that alright?"

"Uh…"

Hero struggled for words. They had never noticed Villain looked so different without their mask. After all, they'd never been this close. Hero never felt the need to get personal with Villain. Their features threw them off, and for a second, they felt embarrassed for acting as they did at the stand. They instantly regretted all their snappy comebacks and swallowed.

Why were they still so close? Didn't they know they didn't want them to hear how hard their heart was pounding? Had Villain always looked this good, or were they just confused?

They nodded frantically.

…

It might've been the time or the food, but whatever it was made them sleepy. It had to be late into the night, but Villain kept driving, on and on and on… Through endless stretches of road.

"Where are you taking me?" They finally said.

"You'll see when we get there."

That wasn't much of an answer. They sighed deeply and stared at the dark sky with beads of colourful lights around the city and car headlights.

"Anyway," Villain tapped on the steering wheel, "where have you been? Haven't seen you out fighting crime, never mind the newspaper."

Was this what it was about?

"It's nothing."

"Yeah, right, like you can get me to believe it's nothing."

Hero looked down at their knees. They didn't know. They didn't have an answer.

Yes, they've been working, but they lost the thrill of being a hero a long time ago, and part of them convinced themselves they were never interested in returning.

There did exist a time when they had fun doing the protecting, but that excitement… died.

That, of course, wouldn't be an acceptable answer for Villain.

"What did you do? Stay at home? Or…" they continued.

They did stay at home. It was less mentally straining than whatever the public was getting them to do.

"How about… you tell me where we're headed, and I tell you where I've been."

That seemed fair. The only problem was they still hadn't found an excuse elaborate enough to hide their days of mind-numbing boredom and emptiness.

Villain came to a red light and faced them, "Okay. I'm… don't get scared, but I'm taking you to see my boss."

"Supervillain?"

They licked their teeth and glanced at the red light. The windshield wiped away at the small speckles of rain, blurring the window further. "Yes."

"… bullshit."

Villain's fingers tapped rhythmically on the wheel. "I don't know what else to tell you." The light turned green, and they continued driving.

"Do you think I'm some kind of idiot? Tell me where the hell you're taking me."

"I'm telling you the truth." Their eyes never left the street.

"Like a criminal would do that." They mumbled. The other gave them a look that shut them up. Hero leaned to the window and looked outside, their sleepiness returning.

They didn't like being trapped inside this car. They hated how the road looked so depressing and lonely.

This was just fantastic.

Exactly what they needed. Getting kidnapped and possibly killed for some stupid villainous act. Hero's leg anxiously jumped up and down, waiting for this mysterious location.

…

The moment their eyes opened again, they caught sight of a dim blue sky. It was still raining.

Hero rubbed their eyes.

Curry. It still smelled of curry; Hero felt homesick already. They didn't feel like going home, though, as there was nothing for them there, but it still gave them the anxiety to be out this long.

The jacket over their body slid off.

They didn't remember this. It didn't belong to them. Was this Villain's? Hero lifted it off their body and stared at the soft knitted edges and long sleeves. They didn't expect them to be considerate. They had thought they would only use them for intel later on when they got to meet their boss, but being cared for?

It made them blush. They pressed the jacket up to their nose and took a whiff of it shamelessly.

Cinnamon.

Their head became light.

Kidnapping wasn't supposed to be this much fun, but it was. Hero smiled warmly, their heart singing with excitement. Had they always been this nice? Was this something Villain did for everyone?

They slowly set down the jacket onto their lap. Yeah, it might've just been a moment of consideration; it was best not to look into it too deeply. Not a lot of people would consider Hero popular or a favourite among the crowd of other heroes. It was probably a thoughtless action that wasn't meant to feed into their fantasy.

Stupid.

The seat next to them was empty; Villain was no where to be found. Although the car sat running and kept them warm. The light rain from earlier still drizzled against the windows. Hero caught the sound of an argument.

Their eyes squinted as they looked around. Eventually, they saw Villain and a group of others through the rearview mirror. They stood in front of the well-lit gas station. Hero could hardly tell what they were saying through the rain, but only about a minute later did Villain turn around.

Should they fake sleep? Were they supposed to be up?

In their panic, Hero froze. Villain opened the car door and clamoured in. "Oh? Good morning." They whispered.

Hero thumbed the jacket. Their eyes were sorrowful for treating Villain negatively all the time when all they received were pardons. Hopefully, they would see the end of their bad behaviour; karma would hurt.

Perhaps this was just a decisive plan to guilt-trip them into following Villain obediently.

"You can hold on to my jacket, for now I won't need it."

Villain pulled out of the lot and back onto the road again.

It would be another long silence until they pulled up to a large building with a sign next to a line of other stores. Hero, confusingly, stared out at the place. It didn't look anything like a villain's lair.

"I don't think you answered my question," Villain turned the engine off.

"You're persistent."

"You're observant."

Hero held their ground and remained silent. Villain clicked their tongue when they realized Hero wouldn't give in yet. "I heard you quit."

It shouldn't have hurt when they heard that, but it did.

Hero loved their job. They never meant to leave the way they did, but it hurt to hear that speculation of them quitting had reached Villain.

Hero held onto tears. The last place they wanted to cry was in Villain's car out in God knows where.

"You know, I was hoping you would just talk with me. I didn't mean to kidnap you but uhh… I really didn't have any options."

The rain sounded outside a bright ray of light flickered across the sky. "I knew you lied to me." Their voice came out much more wavering than they wanted to. Hero still refused to make eye contact with their nemesis. They rubbed the palm of their hand against the tears streaking down their cheeks.

They took a moment to catch their breath though it was clear Hero was crying now. Their breathing was sharp as they tried to relax their nerves and take control futilely.

"You know it's pretty damn hard working 8-9 hours of shifts."

Villain let them speak and listened attentively.

"I waited all my damn life to- to- to what?" They whipped their head around to Villain, their face red and wrists flicking the air. "To what, Villain? I don't even know what I want!" They sniffled and leaned back into the seat. "And here I am, getting my life screwed over for little reward."

Hero lifted their sleeves to wipe at their face roughly.

Villain awkwardly waited; they never encountered someone crying before. Usually, someone else did the comforting. They weren't used to that, but it was worth trying.

They reached out and placed a hand on their shaking shoulder with some reserve. "Uhm… I don't know how to do this stuff, but I didn't mean to lie when I said I was taking you to my boss. I just wanted you to tell me what was going on. It's unusual for you to disappear for this long."

Hero looked up at them, their eyes still watery and adjusting to the dark setting. They could barely make out Villain's face, but their words were clear.

"I had thought… nobody would realize if I had just… stepped out of the picture." They licked their lips. "It seemed like no one wanted to care anymore." Hero choked on their sob, a pain held tight onto their throat.

"Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, Hero." They moved their hair to the side. "I'm here, Hero. I care about you. You don't think I wouldn't have come if I didn't?"

"I don't know why I always feel… isolated."

"You shouldn't have to."

Hero smiled at them, ease blanketing over them at last. They weren't sure for how long they would stay this way until Villain asked, and to be fair, that's all they wanted to hear, even if it was just one person asking. That was enough, maybe even too generous of them, but that was just the afterthoughts talking.

~~~

MASTERLIST

#writing prompt #fluff prompt #hero x villain community #hero x villain #villain x civilian #pining prompts #light angst #angst dialogue #angst prompts #villainxhero #villain x hero #hurt/comfort

232 notes · View notes

itsloverrrboy · 1 year

Text

──aliens

i. twilight

ii. emmett cullen x m.reader

iii. language/cussing, fluff

iiii. a/n: I haven't written twilight before so this is my first time, IS THE TWILIGHT FANDOM STILL ALIVE??😭

It was a few days after the first day of school, your sister already made friends while you had not. You sat with them at a table, the fact that you didn't know them or didn't know where to go besides the cafeteria.

All this time you hadn't listened to a word they were saying besides gossiping about the "Cullens?" You guessed some popular teenagers like in those terrible high school movies, all you were doing was eating Bella's food.

You burped out loud to have the whole table glance at you.

"What?" You attempted to say with your mouth being stuffed down with the cafeteria food, meanwhile: the brunette was disgusted.

"Cover your mouth, (Name)" you simply chewed louder and made noises; doing the complete opposite of what Bella asked. Some laughed, and others were grossed out.

"Please go somewhere else" she shoved your face away from hers as you pouted and stood up anyways, grabbing your- or more like Bella's tray to throw it away.

"Fine. You don't deserve my love and affection" you walked away; being a little extra and chose to stick out your tongue at her, not seeing the little smile on her face.

"Very mature" she mumbled, glad you didn't hear her...otherwise you two would be arguing the whole lunch period.

As you went towards the trash can, you didn't notice another boy your "age" standing a few feet behind you. Turning around again, it felt like you bumped into a hard brick wall...

Glancing up to make eye contact with a tall male. He was definitely not a wall.

He had broad shoulders and saw his strong muscles through his white jacket. His golden bright eyes gazed back at you with wonder as his pupils dilated, despite his large scary figure, you smiled up at the handsome man.

"You should watch where you're going big guy" you joked.

Surprisingly he laughed or more like chuckled at you, was a bit taken aback, he still responded with the same energy.

"You were in the way," his handsome face had a playful smirk. You put your hands up defensively at his comment "you got me there" he then stuck out his hand out unexpectedly.

Did he wanted to talk to you?

"I'm Emmet."

"(Name.)" You shook his hand and felt his pale skin was cold like ice, you winced and pull your hand back immediately.

"Jesus, what are you? A vampire?" He raised his eyebrows in amusement, funny to him that you were right all along and had no idea.

"You believe in vampires?" You shrugged your shoulders and walked with him to get another tray "uh, no but I do believe in aliens" he scoffed and watched you get a salad.

You looked back at him at the sudden noise he made "what? Aliens are real, why wouldn't they exist...we have the whole earth, space, and universe to ourselves-" as you kept talking and grabbing a couple of things, you didn't realize his eyes soften.

As soon as you burst in through the cafeteria door, he smelled your scent and felt a deep connection with you; knowing you were his mate. He was surprised you were a male but was glad you weren't some old man. His sister encouraged him to talk to you and...was not disappointed.

His snorting caught your attention, you looked at him again with a confused look.

"Sorry." He clearly wasn't.

"What's so funny?"

"You're just really cute" he complimented with an adorable smile as you felt warm at his sudden bluntness, you coughed awkwardly and thanked him.

Talking for a few more minutes-or more like Emmet listening about your silly theories, but before your went to sit down with your boring sister. You gently put your tray down for a second and got out a pen.

"You know...if you ever want to talk about aliens sometime, here's my number" you shyly mumbled out as your bad hand writing was stain to his arm.

The buff man doing his victory dance inside his head, he nodded and tried to stay calm by not freaking you out. He knew his brother was reading his mind and would probably tease him later for acting like this.

At least now you've had a friend.

608 notes · View notes

redrose10 · 4 months

Text

I’ve had this idea for a story in my head for a while and I just need somewhere to put it out there. This is a little teaser of one of the chapters. So far I have four chapters written with plans for several more. The first chapter should be posted in a couple days. I’ve never written a multi chapter fan fiction so I’m excited to do this. Hope someone out there likes it!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Warnings (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Teaser Below

On the last night you decided to treat yourself to a nice dinner out. Yoongi had been gone all day and you knew he wasn’t going to spend the evening with you anyways. The food was incredibly delicious and you had a really nice time with the waiter, Hoseok. He was like a big ray of sunshine and for that one dinner you were able to forget everything that had been happening. The two of you exchanged numbers so you could get together for lunch next time he visited his parents in Korea. As you were walking back to your room you came across two people all over each other in the hallway. The man’s hands were slowly going farther up the shirt of the brunette he was with. Soft moans could be heard between the two of them. Normally you’d be pretty off put that two people would be so open in public but you were happy that someone was getting intimacy. You were craving any sort of touch and these two just made you want it more.

That is until the woman accidentally dropped her purse and bent down to retrieve it revealing the man that she was with. Yoongi looked at you with his classic unreadable expression. The woman standing back up realized you were now present. She was understandably confused as to why you were waiting right there.

“Oh I’m sorry. Is this your room?”, she asked looking back at Yoongi for an explanation.

Deep down you had thought he’d tell the truth. Let her know that you were his wife. That she needed to leave. That this was your honeymoon. That he wouldn’t bring another women into your hotel room while you were there with them. Instead he just sighed,

“Yeah this is my sister Y/N. She’s sharing a room with me unfortunately.”

You felt your heart crack. The woman looked a little shocked pulling away, “Oh I’m so sorry. Maybe we should continue this elsewhere.”

You watched the smirk spread across Yoongi’s face, “Nah she won’t mind. Right Y/N?” In your head you screamed, “Yeah of course I mind. You’re my husband and you expect me to just sit there while you fuck some other woman.” But instead you gently shook your head and watched as Yoongi pulled the woman back into the room with him kissing her as he went.

You stood there and watched the door slam shut. The faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla the only thing remaining in the hall with you. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in that room with them. So instead you made your way down to the lobby. At this time of night all the restaurants were closing up and you weren’t much for the bar scene so you grabbed a water bottle from a vending machine and walked out to the beach to wait it out. Once you felt you had a safe spot chosen you took a seat down in the sand. As you stared up at the sky you felt the exhaustion taking over your body. Slowly you laid back allowing the warm sand and the sound of the ocean waves to lull you off to sleep. The smell of the salty air a welcoming change to the cinnamon and vanilla that was slowly driving you crazy.

#yoongi x reader #bts #bts yoongi #yoongi #yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi au #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga #agust d #ceo au #arranged marriage au #yoongi x y/n

73 notes · View notes

another-goblin · 23 days

Text

2.1 Spoilers, Aventurine analysis

I regret to say that I enjoyed Aventurine's story much less than I should have. And not because it was bad, but because it was spoiled for me by people who don't tag their leaks, mostly fanartists. People call it one of the best stories in the game so far, and I usually love emotional stuff like that, but instead I was just going through the motions.

Yeah, child Aventurine, Aventurine in shakles, whatever, I've been forcefed all this stuff a month ago, I already saw dozens of arts of it against my will, let's move on. To all these artists - I hope not adding one little "hsr leaks" to your tags was worth it.

(speaking of which - my current goal is to unhate that new cowboy guy before he actively enters the story. Currently, I can't stand the sight of him, and for exactly the same reason, untagged leaks. He seems like a potentially great character, and he's already quite popular. And hating a popular character isn't fun at all)

But not to be too negative, even though I weren't allowed to enjoy 2.1 story as much as it deserves, I still liked it quite a lot, and it's a testament to how well written Aventurine is.

One of the worst things you can do to a character is to make them emotionally static. Aventurine doesn't suffer from this at all, it's shown very well in the different ways he talks to people, and that's what I wanted to talk about.

The first way is what I call "slimey creep." It's the way he mostly talks in 2.0 to TB and most other characters, and he's quite antogonistic and unlikeable, probably because it's his goal to seem antogonistic and unlikeable.

Second is the fear and desperation that's always under the surface, carefully hidden, what his future self talks about - we can see it when Sunday does his harmony thing on him.

And third, my favorite, is what I call "disarming sincerity." Not that he's neseccerily insincere in his other modes, but this is his dippest self, hidden under all the layers of pain, fear, and cynicism. He shows it when he talks to his younger self (btw I don't usually go there, but it made me think that he'd be great with children.)

We also see him using it for self-defense - when Ratio goes too far in 2.0, he retorts with this seemingly naive "I didn't go to school and my parents "left" me", and Ratio immediately apologizes.

But most interestingly, he uses it with Ratio, most of the time they spend together in 2.1 up until the "betrayal.".

It might be a deliberate ploy to manipulate him, trying to seem more likeable, to assure his loyalty (Ratio's reaction to "I didn't go to school" showed that he's quite susceptible to it).

It might come from his realization that the end is near, and why not just be yourself and have some fun for a change.

Or, of course, it might be because he actually enjoys Ratio's company and feels safe enough to show this hidden vulnerable side of himself.

The truth is probably somewhere in between.

They both joke and bicker (with Ratio remembering from time to time that he's supposed to show his "hatred" of Aventurine), and they both seem to really enjoy it. They argue about birds, Aven gets excited about the sandpit, and so on.

Let's take the joke Sparkle made about Aventurine and Sunday (about undressing and kneeling down) - it's mean and maybe even cruel, considering certain things from Aventurine's past that weren't directly implied but can be assumed, probably. And let's compare it with the joke he himself makes about him and Sunday ("now that I'm tiny I can hide on Sunday's clothes and spy on the Family, hehe, uwu"). It's a joke you'd expect from a child. Or from an adult who feels comfortable enough in your presence that they aren't afraid to seem childish or silly.

So yeah I'd really like to see them interact in a less stressful situation after these events. tbh I think they'd talk in more or less the same way. Aventurine already feels as safe and open around Ratio as he can allow himself to. And Ratio is too rigid in the way he speaks, he won't change that easily.

In defiance of a tired stereotype of an eccentric genius who is bad with people, Ratio seems quite good at understanding them. What he's bad at is expressing his feelings in a "convencional" way.

(he only sounds sincere and emotional when he talks about abstract matters he's passionate about, like his little speech to Screwllum at the end of his quest. He probably sounds like that when he talks about science too.)

But when it comes to his feelings towards people he becomes even more formal and strict (remember his messages from the valentine's day event on twitter)

I can imagine his thought process after he leaves Aventurine in 2.1.

"I verbally expressed my concern to him, which should reassure him of my loyalty and support. Furthermore, I provided him with an insightful and reassuring message in written form. So he should be fine."

btw speaking of that note, when I read it, I can imagine Ratio saying "Do stay alive" aloud. But I can't imagine how he'd say the next line, wishing him luck. I mean, he can't say it in his usual "I'm tired of idiots" way of speaking, right? Something to look forward to.

#honkai star rail #my stuff #aventurine #dr ratio #hsr that new cowboy guy #hsr 2.1 spoilers #hsr 2.1 #hsr spoilers

47 notes · View notes

waitmyturtles · 10 months

Text

Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: Until We Meet Again Edition

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. In a LONG POST, I’m writing today about New Siwaj’s incomparable drama, Until We Meet Again.]

TW: suicide, suicidal ideation, psychological trauma

Gah. I am so psyched to be finally sitting down to write my thoughts on Until We Meet Again, but I’m actually at a bit of a loss on where to start. There is SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT.

I think, where I can start, is to first say that this was, in my opinion, AN ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR SHOW. I did NOT expect this, at all. I’ve been around the way with New Siwaj, the UWMA screenwriter and director, a few times now for the OGMMTVC -- his writing on Love Sick, his work with Cheewin on Make It Right, and his work on MAME’s novel in Love By Chance have all been on the OGMMTVC list. I know that Between Us, the UMWA WinTeam continuation, was considered mostly a let-down for weak writing, and that New’s more recent shows, including A Boss and a Babe and Double Savage, were viewed quite critically (although I am a Double Savage apologist, for which I’ll explain my viewpoints later in this post).

So. What I did not expect from 2019′s UWMA was to experience so many layers in a drama à la the work of Aof Noppharnach. Yes, I cannot believe I’m going here, to compare a New Siwaj drama to Aof’s oeuvre, but damn if I will, because good lord, New took his magic hat of tricks, pulled out THE GOOD STUFF, and made it all work.

This is a list of themes that I saw in UWMA, that will help me structure this long write-up, but by no means should it be considered complete, as I’m sure I’m missing themes that you all likely caught in your watches and re-watches:

1) A new narrative structure for New -- balancing the impact of side couples by leveraging focus, equally, on two MAIN couples 2) The continuation and end of the 2019 trend of reincarnation and spiritual connections to love 3) Intergenerational queer trauma (micro-level) 4) Generational acceptance of queerness (macro-level) 5) Food and its Proustian effect on memory 6) Reflections on filial piety and the devastating effects of expectations -- and how children and parents seek redemption, particularly in New’s work

And before I even dive into THIS list, can I just say: MY GOD, FLUKE AND OHM. And Earth and Kao! But FLUKE AND OHM. Jesus, does New have an eye for talent -- from the Make It Right guys, to Perth and Saint, and then to Fluke and Ohm. I was seriously TAKEN with their chemistry. I did hear from a number of folks during my UWMA live-blogging that they can’t rewatch UWMA because of Fluke/Pharm’s rendition of the blushing maiden trope, but for my tastes -- I think the way he rendered the trope was really necessary to communicating Intouch’s story, history, and emotions, and just -- Fluke just ATE this role, my gawd. And Ohm/Dean responding in kind vis à vis Korn’s regret. YOW. It’s been a few days since I finished the show, in a total RUSH of drama hunger, and I’m still shaking my head and MARVELING at their performance.

Okay, back to the themes list. So, early in my Thai BL journey in the fall of 2022, after I had watched KinnPorsche and The Eclipse as my first two Thai BLs, I watched A Tale of Thousand Stars (way before the OGMMTVC was born), and noted that I appreciated the lack of side couples in the ATOTS storyline. I now realize, through the OGMMTVC, that side couples are both a BL trope and a byproduct of the drama styles from which BLs were born, the ensemble-based dramas like Love Sick, Senior Secret Love, and Kiss/Kiss Me Again.

New’s Make It Right -- while beloved in my heart, for the chaotic duos of TeeFuse and FrameBook -- WAS messy, with all the other couple stuff happening around it. That, along with Love By Chance, made me wonder -- why do BLs that center fabulous dyads with sizzling chemistry take away from that energy with all the side couple action? Even Together With Me, a non-New Siwaj and non-GMMTV drama, got sidelined in part with a VERY questionable side couple plot in BrightFarm.

Reflecting back on KP and The Eclipse, I had that question in mind as I started UWMA, and wondered where the Alex and WinTeam storylines were going to go. But, frankly, I ended up appreciating what NEEDED to happen with DeanPharm and KornIntouch, because -- the original novel storyline clearly demanded that these two couples, who were NOT side couples, but MAIN couples, needed a MAIN spotlight for their collective story to be told. @clairificusrex mentioned in a liveblog comment (THANK YOU, LOVELY HUMAN!) that New Siwaj benefitted in the screenplay from having a wonderful original novel to work with, and while I don’t read Y Series canon, I can only imagine that this was indeed the case.

So, New, in order to hew to the novel, had to perhaps hold back his usual instincts to muss up the main couple vibe, by centering DeanPharm and KornIntouch. With that control necessary to the story -- I think the narrative STRUCTURE of the drama just blew open. It was FASCINATING, it drew me in, and the structure allowed for another New predilection to be leveraged WELL, in his love for flashbacks. @lurkingshan, you mentioned that your taste wasn’t necessarily aligned with New’s fancy for flashbacks, which I totally understand -- I think flashbacks hurt the overall narrative structure of Double Savage earlier this year. But I think, here for UMWA, they were necessary, and I might very well be apologetic to that considering what I DID see in Double Savage by way of the story that New ended up screenwriting over there in regards to intergenerational family trauma (again, more on this later in the post).

This narrative structure lent itself handily to the next four themes on this list, all of which deal in memory, in spiritual roots, and/or in the generational passage and inheritance of trauma and emotion. 2019, as we know now, was a big year for shows themed around Thai spiritual culture and/or reincarnation. We have He’s Coming To Me, we have Dew the Movie -- we have art here, queer-centered art, that does not lend itself to happy endings, that depicts, through reincarnation or, in the case of HCTM, a ghostly purgatory, how DIFFICULT it had been to be comfortably queer and/or openly out in past and present Thailand.

And then UWMA comes along, telling TWO generational stories, intertwined by the red thread, but also, in the words of the WONDERFUL @bengiyo, connected by Korn and Intouch’s intergenerational queer trauma, the most PERFECT coinage of a theme for this show. In 1988, when Korn and Intouch die, they cannot be out. They cannot even be SECRETLY in love. Their bad dads use the foulest of language to describe their love (much like Phop’s dad in Dew). And Korn kills himself, and Intouch follows.

And what we learn, through Dean and Pharm, are the emotions, the regrets, the LEARNED BEHAVIOR that Korn and Intouch have picked up on in the afterlife, embedded in Dean and Pharm, that keeps Korn and Intouch’s love alive, with CORRECTIONS and ADJUSTMENTS made by Dean and Pharm that reflect on how not only Korn and Intouch’s love has changed and improved, but also how Dean and Pharm are learning how to love EACH OTHER, themselves, as they adjust to their OWN belonging to each other, in Pharm’s own words. GAH -- my aching heart. (Thank you to @lurkingshan for talking this through with me early on in my UWMA watch.)

I mean. THE DEPTH OF THIS. Intouch is a terrible cook, and Pharm is like, a restaurant-level chef?! Pharm is so resistant, and Dean is so FORWARD? (OHM THITIWAT, GAH!!!) (Listen. Pharm. P’Deeeean can grab MY butt, okay?) (See what I did there, @lurkingshan and @bengiyo? THANK YOOOOUU.)

And Pharm’s blushing maiden approach. Yes, I will also admit, that sometimes, it was a little cringey. But I think the blushing maiden trope was really necessary to the story -- ESPECIALLY IN THE CONTEXT of Intouch’s anger, ciphered through Pharm in the last episode. And I think that Fluke Natouch ultimately rendered the trope beautifully -- again, especially against the gorgeous ending of the show. Oh, THAT CONDO SCENE, PEOPLE. I LOST IT.

Of course, Intouch would want to hold back through Pharm in the present day. If Intouch DIDN’T hold back vis à vis Pharm -- he might lose Korn again, if Pharm missteps with Dean. Intouch may have felt that HIS forwardness lent to their troubles -- so Intouch holds back, through Pharm. And Intouch ultimately communicates his love for Korn differently in the afterlife, more hesitantly -- through a resistance to intimacy, and through food and cooking in Pharm, which itself was another amazing move in this show.

Listen. Even my pinned post says what I value in dramas, not just in BLs. You give me food in BL, and I give you my heart. But also, let’s talk about the meaning of food in Asian dramas for a second. It’s no coincidence that MANY Asian dramas and doramas center food, including my favorite BL of all time, Kinou Nani Tabeta/What Did You Eat Yesterday?. If you don’t know Asians, of any ilk -- let me make a BROAD continental and sub-continental judgement. ALL WE THINK ABOUT IS FOOD, lol. While I’m with my family, while I’m working, while I’m writing meta -- I’m thinking about food, I’m thinking about what I want to cook, what I want to order, how I can mix the cuisines I love (Thai-Indian curries, anyone? YUM). Malaysians literally boast about having multiple meals, way past three meals, a day. We Asians are proud of our cuisines, and we want y’all to be EATING, A LOT, and to try all our dishes. (ITSAY, your Hokkien mee is calling me...)

But, also: FOOD MEANS FAMILY. Let me say it again: FOOD MEANS FAMILY. You FEED the people you LOVE, with delicious food. Shiro and Kenji. Kurosawa and Adachi. The guys in Jack o’Frost. The guys in The Eighth Sense. Omg, even Kinn and Porsche. We’re seeing it in Tokyo In April Is... And Pharm, to Dean, Intouch to Korn.

And BESIDES Intouch/Pharm becoming a great cook, GOD, the story ALSO INCLUDED the Proustian reference of the madeleine and involuntary memory -- but in SUCH a stunning way, as to RECALL DEAN’S FAMILIAL MEMORY of eating his grandmother’s Thai desserts -- his grandmother, Intouch’s sister, and how Dean could get an indirect spotlight into Intouch and a depth of an understanding of Intouch’s happiness besides his love for Korn. And how Pharm EMBODIED that love for Thai desserts through Intouch’s family lineage. Oh, just get me MESSY, PEOPLE. FUCKING GENIUS SHIT.

Memory on memory on memory. Dream on dream, nightmare on nightmare, tears and red threads, inherited trauma, intergenerational trauma. The micro-level of what Dean and Pharm had to live with on a daily basis in their recollections of Korn and Intouch. The macro-level of what Pharm and Dean experienced when all of their parents accepted them for who they were as queer individuals, and their partners, as well. How Dean’s dad could ACTUALLY RELATE to Dean himself, because Dean’s dad had been rejected by Dean’s mother’s family. And how that ALLOWED Dean’s dad to accept Dean and his choice to be with Pharm. How that trauma was relieved, how Dean and Pharm DID NOT HAVE TO PHYSICALLY RELIVE what Korn and Intouch had gone through, and how those involuntary memories that Dean and Pharm carried vis à vis Korn and Intouch traumatized them until Dean and Pharm could RECEIVE their OWN familial acceptance.

The LAYERS OF THIS SHOW. Before I get to the last theme on my list, I really just need to metaphorically slam my palms on an allegorical table and give New Siwaj a huge hug, because THIS SHIT IS NOT EASY TO PROCESS ALL AT ONCE, and I can’t wait to do a UWMA rewatch to try to catch more (and I’ll likely need to write another meta, ha, when I do that). I mean, again, just to use food as an example of a kind of storytelling TOOL to INDICATE memory, especially in the context of lost and found love, of intergenerational trauma and relieving regret -- BRILLIANT. BRILLIANT.

And. The last theme on the list, the theme of filial piety, of Asian family systems and devotion and loyalty and expectations, and the devastating effects on the micro-individual level (and even the macro-social level as well) that those expectations can have.

So, I watched Double Savage, screenwritten by New Siwaj, out of order from UWMA. Very quickly, since many of you have likely NOT watched Double Savage because it’s not a BL (but it DID have Ohm Pawat and Perth Tanapon in a hose-off scene -- you can’t take the New Siwaj out of New Siwaj, amirite): Double Savage is about Korn (Ohm P.), a middle son who is branded a jinx by a HORRENDOUS Thai-Chinese father, and how the abuse leveled on Korn by his dad has intergenerational ripple effects across their family and community.

Let’s break this down. I now know that New Siwaj does bad dads from Thai-Chinese lineage very well. UWMA’s Korn is expected to take over a mafia business. His dad is disapproving that Korn doesn’t want to take over the business -- which is an UNQUESTIONABLE and EMBEDDED expectation in most Asian family lineages (hello, Jeng and Step By Step) -- AND Korn’s dad is ALSO disapproving in Korn’s love for Intouch and vice versa. Separately, Intouch’s dad is disapproving that Intouch is in love with Korn, a mafia scion.

Modern times are modern for a reason. 1988 was 31 years from 2019. I want to emphasize here the understanding that Korn and Intouch likely had -- that besides running away, there was no other existence for them to be together than to kill themselves and be together in the afterlife. And running away, and still living and existing, would have been a guilt-ridden and dangerous existence, for what Asian children are expected to do and live for vis à vis their parents. Korn likely HAD NO OTHER IMAGINATION for a life that he could live OTHER THAN to take over his father’s business and to be a heteronormative adult in the late 1980s. And, to top that all off, both of their dads were fucking assholes.

I really liked how this was juxtaposed to the relationship between Dean and his father. Dean was clearly set up to be as stubborn as his dad. Meaning, at least to me -- that Dean was FAR less likely to be told what to do by his dad, that Dean would and maybe COULD, stand up to his dad. We didn’t see it happen, but I could have imagined Dean not accepting “no” for an answer from his dad to accept Pharm. (Makes you think about Pat, Pran, and Ming, no?) Dean had Korn in him. Dean/Korn was NOT GOING TO TAKE THAT SHIT AGAIN, and that was CLEAR. I want to emphasize: THAT’S BIG. That was BIG on New Siwaj and the UWMA novel writer to include that in the story. That’s parental defiance. That needed to happen in order for Dean and Pharm to survive. As an Asian, that gives me a kick of welcome energy.

But I also really want to note what New Siwaj did at the end of the show, something so deft, it might have left non-Asian viewers wondering what was going on. In the condo scene, Dean and Pharm are ciphering Korn and Intouch -- and when Korn’s father shows up in the wheelchair, Korn’s father knows what’s happening.

And Korn apologizes to his dad. Korn had already apologized to Intouch, but Korn also apologizes to his dad, and to his brother, and to his nephew in Sin. This really gets me, y’all, I understand this as an Asian. Korn is APOLOGIZING for the PAIN he caused in his family AND in Intouch, because -- filial piety. He knows what he did to himself was devastating to the Asian family system he was born into, to the Asian society he was born into, and he apologized for the suicide he committed unto himself that caused that extra-social pain.

Like. As crazy as that sounds, it’s also an INCREDIBLY SOPHISTICATED way to ACKNOWLEDGE that Korn had broached a social boundary, and Intouch had followed him. THAT IS A HELL OF A LAYER TO ADD TO THIS STORY, ONE THAT I DID NOT EXPECT, and that SHOOK ME at the end of this series.

A similar situation happened in Double Savage. Despite the horrendous psychological abuse that Double Savage’s Korn received from his father -- an adult Korn ends up apologizing to his father for the trouble that HE may have caused. Now, what I appreciated about Double Savage was that THAT dad was like -- no, no, *I* should be the one apologizing. BUT, I want to indicate and emphasize here, that BOTH storylines acknowledge that Asian children NEED to know, SHOULD know, ARE BORN TO KNOW, that their actions have collective effects on a wider family system. We are born to understand and think like that. We are not dealing with an individualist Western perspective here. (I literally FLIPPED when I realized that New Siwaj has had MULTIPLE CHARACTERS NAMED KORN APOLOGIZING TO BAD DADS, and I’m an Asian over here UNDERSTANDING WHY, and I’m just like, pfffftt GGGAAAHHHH.)

Why am I harping on this? BECAUSE: vis à vis EVERYTHING ELSE that is lineage-based in this story -- from children being born, to intergenerational trauma, to reincarnation -- UWMA is structured around an über-macro theme of worlds being linked, by threads, by genes, by history, by spirit, by trauma. We are collectively linked. Babies are born -- we saw many babies in this show. Children belong to families. Lovers belong to lovers. Dean PHYSICALLY belongs to Intouch’s family, and Pharm to Korn’s family. A happy existence will be when a family accepts a child’s partner. Happiness is in a family growing, not a family shrinking. Warmth and growth and love happens when a happy family sits at a table and eats together.

As Pharm says at the end of the show -- oh, my HEART -- “I belong to Dean.” Yes, you do -- because you have become Dean’s family, and Dean has become Pharm’s family. Korn’s family BELONGS to Intouch’s family, and vice versa. They are destined, MEANT to be linked together, AND TO BE FAMILY, ALL TOGETHER.

Kurosawa and Adachi become family in the Cherry Magic movie. WDYEY’s Shiro and Kenji become family by way of living and eating together. Even if BBS’s Ming doesn’t acknowledge Pran -- Pran is Ming’s family. LOVE. MAKES. FAMILY.

What Korn apologized for was the impact his decision had on his family — WHILE HE WAS IN LOVE WITH INTOUCH, WHO KORN’S FAMILY WAS NOT ALLOWING KORN TO MAKE AS KORN’S NEW FAMILY in the 1980s. Korn was able to apologize in the afterlife — BECAUSE Dean and Pharm DID WHAT HE AND INTOUCH COULD NOT DO, by way of generations, by way of family acceptance, by way of inherited trauma and STOPPING that inherited trauma in its tracks -- very much like Pat and Pran banding together and doing the same for themselves. Dean and Pharm did the hard work of making the relationship a real one, in every aspect of their intimate, micro-level family lives, to a public, external existence in the world. Korn could FINALLY experience the release of GUILT he had towards Intouch and towards Korn’s family, now that Korn’s love for Intouch could FINALLY flourish outside the constraints of filial piety through Dean. THIS IS HUGE. I have no words to tell you what the BRILLIANCE of this means to me as an Asian. LOVE MAKES FAMILY, and LOVE THAT IS ALLOWED TO FLOURISH GIVES YOU THE RELEASE TO BE YOUR TRUE SELF.

Dean had learned from the inherited trauma that he got from Korn that he needed to stop the trauma train in his tracks, and he did, and he confronted his father, and his father blessed the union of Dean and Pharm. When Dean took the gun away from Pharm, and embraced Pharm, Korn and Intouch KNEW that they could finally be safe in the afterlife. Dean and Pharm were the ciphers that finally ALLOWED Korn and Intouch to exist happily together in spirit. Korn, especially, could exist freely, now that he was relieved of his guilt. Dean and Pharm were, LITERALLY, Korn and Intouch’s FAMILY -- the FAMILY that ALLOWED the FINAL RELEASE for Korn and Intouch to be together as their true selves and spirits.

And Dean and Pharm confirmed that in FRONT of the family member, in Korn’s father, that had originally caused all this pain. The intricate layers, communicated to a primarily Asian audience, of Korn apologizing to his father, and then of Dean embracing Pharm and confirming their love AND Korn and Intouch’s love, in front of that former barrier -- that is GROWTH and FLOURISHING in the face of generational defiance, and about as sophisticated and eloquent a communication of familial transcendence as I could possibly imagine seeing in Asian drama art. WHOA. I’m a little out of breath with this.

Wow. And speaking of being one’s true self: I deeply loved that Dean and Pharm took a three-month break. I loved that Pharm was smart and strong enough to demand a break to understand if DEAN and PHARM -- INDEPENDENT of ANYTHING they had INHERITED from ANYONE -- actually loved each other and belonged together. Fuck. Pharm was like, no -- this one’s on me. I need to see, outside of ANY INFLUENCES, FROM ANYONE, ANYWHERE -- if I love Dean, if Dean loves me, and if we belong together. Brave. Badass.

AND, I truly loved how Korn and Intouch -- DEAN AND PHARM’S FAMILY -- came BACK to Dean and Pharm’s dreams to offer thanks. I loved how, in the end, the past and his family came back to give Pharm that little contextual nudge to say to Pharm, it’s okay to love Dean for Dean, AND to love how you two came together, through Korn and Intouch. And Pharm could acknowledge, finally, that he belonged to Dean. God damn.

This story was so multilayered, SO complex, SO filled with a respect for love at its highest and most complicated levels. This story was filled with CRITICAL SCRUTINY towards Asian family systems and the trauma that those systems can render. This story was filled with an acknowledgement for the power of LOVE that those same family systems can offer unto children who NEED pillars of love and support (Pharm’s mom and brother, badasses!).

Y’ALL. I just, I DID NOT KNOW that New Siwaj could DO THIS! I know that UWMA is considered his best show, but like, this is his best show BY A LOT, A LOT. Double Savage, in contrast, had a lot of narrative and structural issues that detracted from the core stories of filial piety that were ultimately very important to tell.

UWMA did not fall into that trap. It was SMART, it MOVED (FOR SEVENTEEN EPISODES! I SLAMMED THIS SERIES! I could have watched MORE, I cannot believe I��m SAYING THAT!), it was. It was just BRILLIANT. It was an ode to romantic love, to family love, to the power of memory. In 2019, it joined He’s Coming To Me in a burgeoning echelon of cinema-influenced BLs in storytelling, soon to be joined by I Told Sunset About You, ATOTS, and others. It took the sad endings of He’s Coming To Me and Dew the Movie and said -- not today. Today, we will let love LIVE, let QUEER LOVE live, in REAL LIFE, in REAL TIME, and we will not let our lovers live in regret. We will take queer love, we will give queer love FAMILY, and we will give it the HONOR IT DESERVES.

Until We Meet Again is a must-watch of the highest order, and goes on the shortlist of shows that I will refer to as one that makes me proud to be an Asian. It was easily one of the most important shows I’ve watched in this project. All credit to New, Fluke, Ohm, Earth, and Kao for a PHENOMENAL experience -- my heart and mind have been bettered because of this show.

[FLUKE. AND. OHM. Fluke and Singto coming thru in Shadow the Series? Sign me the FUCK up. Actors on actors. WOW. Did UWMA ever introduce me to another crop of dudes who can fucking tear up a screen. I had SO much fun watching UWMA, whew!

And, yep. I had to follow this up with 2gether, ha. I’m going to spare myself a little pain, if y’all don’t mind, and combine my write-up of 2gether with Still 2gether. I know there’s a lot to be said about the lack of intimacy in 2G, which I can’t wait to dive into, but I can’t help but to also run into another wall of analysis with dear P’Aof’s work in S2G. I’ll make it all work!

After I get myself together with 2gether (HA) -- it’s ITSAY time. I will be planning on watching ITSAY TWICE before writing, as I’m preparing myself to catch EVERYTHING I can before I pen words. Stay tuned.

Status of the list below. As always -- if you have feedback, send it my way!

1) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 2) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 3) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 4) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 5) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 6) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (review here) 7) Love By Chance (2018) (review here) 8) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) (no review) 9) He’s Coming To Me (2019) (review here) 10) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) and Our Skyy x Kiss Me Again (2018) (review here) 11) TharnType (2019-2020) (review here) 12) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (I’m watching this out of order just to get familiar with OffGun before Theory of Love -- will likely not review) 13) Theory of Love (2019) (review here) 14) 3 Will Be Free (2019) (not a BL or an official part of the OGMMTVC watchlist, but an important harbinger of things to come in 2019 and beyond re: Jojo Tichakorn pushing queer content in non-BLs) (review here) 15) Dew the Movie (2019) (review here) 16) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) 17) 2gether (2020) and Still 2gether (2020) (watching) 18) I Told Sunset About You (2020) 19) YYY (2020, out of chronological order) 20) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (not a true BL, but a MaxTul queer/gay romance set within a genre-based show that likely influenced Not Me and KinnPorsche) 21) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 22) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake Of Rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS 23) Lovely Writer (2021) 24) Last Twilight in Phuket (2021) (the mini-special before IPYTM) 25) I Promised You the Moon (2021) 26) Not Me (2021-2022) 27) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 28) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch 29) Secret Crush On You (2022) [watching for Cheewin’s trajectory of studying queer joy from Make It Right (high school), to SCOY (college), to Bed Friend (working adults)] 30) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here) 31) KinnPorsche (2022) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake of Re-Analyzing the KP Cultural Zeitgeist 32) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 33) GAP (2022-2023) (Thailand’s first GL) 34) My School President (2022-2023) and Our Skyy 2 x My School President (2023) 35) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 36) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) (Cheewin’s latest show, depicting a queer joy journey among working adults)]

92 notes · View notes

ineffableaddiction · 1 month

Text

Part 6: Not even at Gunpoint?

A Good Omens Fan Fic

He woke up. It was morning somewhere, but judging by the light filtering through the windows, it was probably afternoon here. Putting on dark glasses, then glancing at his watch, he realized just how long he’d been asleep.

The next thing he noticed was a scent which quickly pulled him downstairs. Examining his surroundings, he soon realized his error. “To sleep…. perchance to dream,” he murmured to no one in particular.

Walking over to the desk, Crowley sat down and gazed at the shelves to his right. He reached out a hand and let it move over various books, journals, and an assortment of other purely Aziraphale things. His hand paused on one in particular. Without thinking, he took the small, bound book from the shelf and just held it. This is the scent that drove him downstairs so quickly. It was everywhere.

He would need to get used to that. Crowley had taken his plants from the Bentley and set them up in the guest room of the bookshop before closing his eyes to sleep, and for the first time had woken up to the lingering presence of Aziraphale. Crowley missed his best friend.

Muriel was still new to Earth and didn’t find a need to sleep. Or eat. Crowley did convince her that she needed an outfit more appropriate for one who sells books.

The new clothes made the angel less obvious, yet she was still not quite blending in. She hadn’t been on Earth long enough to see what is current for the times, so she dressed as one would in a book, and in that book was from the 1930s. Muriel chose a blue dress with evenly distributed white spots, which was worn underneath a white jacket, and accessorized with a thin white belt and white shoes with what Muriel determined were practical heels. It made her seem either very much from a different time or on the cutting edge of fashion. Crowley had been around long enough to see certain styles fall in and out of favor.

At some point before his nap, Crowley seemed to have agreed to run the bookshop, with Muriel acting as his assistant. He recalled a conversation that was something about blending in and something else about not knowing how humans ran bookshops.

“Demons don’t know how to run bookshops either. Do I look like I’d run a bookshop?”

The thought of actual customers coming into the shop intimidated Muriel. “I don’t know how to handle the people. What if they ask me something a human should know? What if they insist on buying a book? If they find out I’m an angel, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

Crowley grudgingly agreed to take over the management of the bookshop. Aziraphale had entrusted him with it once, not that long ago. How hard could it be, only being open one or two hours on various days, not selling anything and scaring away customers?

Today marked the not-so-grand reopening that was both not advertised nor really wanted. Still holding the book, Crowley turned the sign on the door to indicate that the bookshop was open, then returned to the desk. Muriel was nervously pacing and rehearsing some of the pleasantries that Crowley had taught her. “How can I assist you?” “We’re closing soon.” “We don’t have that book in stock.” “They probably have that book at the shop a few blocks away.” “Have a pleasant day.”

Crowley glanced down at the book in his hand and opened it. He turned to a random page, and for quite awhile forgot to breathe. He recognized Aziraphale’s script and realized he was looking at a journal or diary and what was written wasn’t meant for him. He gently closed the book and just held it, seemingly deep in thought.

The chime of the bell on the door didn’t register at first, but then he heard Muriel asking the customer how she could be of assistance. Shifting his gaze to Muriel, it struck Crowley as odd when he noticed a small, neatly wrapped package in the customer’s hand. The customer was trying to give it to Muriel, who had not rehearsed what to do when a customer tried to bring you things and was beginning to panic. As he put that piece of Aziraphale back on the shelf, something fell from the book. He glanced down and stopped breathing for the second time. He’d have to deal with that later.

Seconds passed, and Crowley appeared beside the customer, announced that he was the shopkeeper and could he be of service. Muriel, with a look of relief. stood and observed.

“I was told to bring this here, but this is the first time I’ve seen your shop open.” The customer handed him the package, which was addressed to the bookshop in care of AJC. That was odd.

The customer left as quickly as they’d arrived.

“What is that?” Muriel was beside him, looking at the package with a mix of curiosity, distrust and confusion.

“I’m not quite sure, but let’s find out.” Crowley went back to the desk and sat down. He opened the package, which contained a book that had Aziraphale’s name written on the first page in his neat handwriting. There was nothing else written in the book, but there was a small note, decidedly not in Aziraphale’s handwriting, that said:

3rd Alt Rendezvous

Crowley looked through the packaging to be sure something wasn’t missed, but found nothing.

“That was a fabulous first day. I need to go. Don’t let anyone in.” Turning the sign on the door back to closed as he left, he was quickly in his Bentley heading towards the bandstand. He glanced at the book, now sitting on the seat beside him, frustrated and unsure how long the delivery had been delayed. The shop, while never keeping regular hours, had been open for less than fifteen minutes since the morning after the ball. The method of delivery didn’t indicate when they were assigned this task.

At least the Bentley was allowing him to drive at his normal speed.

On arrival, Crowley parked the car and rushed to the bandstand. It was empty, so he surveyed his surroundings and found nothing out of place. Alone, he opened the book and stared at Aziraphale’s name. “What is this? Who sent it? Am I too late?” Closing the book, Crowley anxiously paced and began talking to no one rather loudly. “Do you need me Aziraphale? Did you send me this bloody book? Why here?”

No answer came, so Crowley waited.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens fanfiction #are you a bookseller too #not even at gunpoint #the bookshop #ineffable spouses

28 notes · View notes

avatarmerida · 1 year

Text

Purposely Forgetful

Feels like it been forever since I’ve written some fluff, so here’s a little something I whipped up while I’ve been working on some other projects.

———

It was a lazy, casual day with the Emerald trio hanging out at Willow’s house. Gus laid on the couch, editing his human appreciation blog on his scroll while Willow and Hunter sat on the ground in front of him drawing up strategies for their next flyer derby practice. From the corner of his eye, Gus could see the pair getting closer and closer as Willow’s head was hovering over Hunter’s shoulder preparing to fall when-

“Well would you look at the time? I should really get going.” Hunter said as he started gathering his things to shove into his bag.

“Awh, so soon?” Willow fake pouted on the ground beside him. She was joking, but a part of her really was upset that Hunter was always the first to leave. Especially when they were getting so… cozy.

“Yeah I uh, told Darius I would… help him… organize his closet.” Hunter said, rising to his feet. “But I’ll see you later?”

“Oh I bet you will.” Gus said with a smirk. Willow missed the glare Hunter shot at Gus as she wrapped him in a quick goodbye hug.

“Message me when you’re back safe, k?”

Hunter nodded as he headed to the door and Willow leaned against the corner of the couch with a dramatic sigh. For some reason, planning new flyer strategies seemed less fun now.

From her seat on the couch, Willow spotted Hunter’s signature notebook resting on the armchair across the room. How had it gotten there?

“Oh shoot,” she said walking over to grab it.

“What did he forget this time?” Gus asked, not looking up from his scroll.

“It’s his- wait, how did you know he forgot something?”

“He’s been ‘forgetting’ things a lot lately,” said Gus, emphasizing his disbelief with air quotes.

“Has he really? Huh, I guess I didn’t really notice.” Willow realized, picking up the book.

“Yeah, ever since we were in the human realm, he’d forget a lot of stuff, especially in your room.” Gus said with an unmissable amount of sarcasm.

“Really? He must be distracted or something.” Willow shrugged, scanning the chair to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything else.

“Maaaaybe.” Gus went on. “All I know is, he would come down to the basement and look at the clock, wait a bit before saying he forget something and would rush back up with an excuse to see you again.”

“What? I don’t think that’s-.”

“Or you’d come down and bring it to him, either way it worked.”

“Hunter doesn’t need an excuse to see me,” said Willow, shaking her head.

“He does if he wants to see you alone,” countered Gus.

“What? That’s not-.”

“Either you’ll run out it to him before he’s too far away or he’ll come back to get it when everyone else has left.” Gus said plainly. “Am I wrong?”

Willow had to admit it did sound familar.

“Last week I watched him take off his jacket and set it on the back of the chair, and look straight at it before he left like he was making sure he left it somewhere you’d see it.” Gus said.

“Okay, well I do kind of remember that,” said Willow with a small smile. She had found the jacket after everyone else had left and tried it on, admiring his neeest collection of patches. She was astounded he still had room for more at this point. It was oversized on him but his height made up for it somewhat but when Willow wore it the sleeves far surpassed her fingertips and it was long enough where it covered her shorts. It was still warm somehow, and wearing it felt like an embrace from the sun. It made her feel very cool so she had taken a selfie in the jacket to send to Hunter to inform him that he had forgotten it. A part of her had hoped he wouldn’t ask for it’s immediate return.

“He made the picture of you in his jacket the background on the phone Camila gave him,” Gus said as thought reading her mind.

“Whaaat? He did not.” Willow scoffed with a blush.

“He definitely did,” said Gus with a dramatic sigh. “He’s always staring at it. He’d probably make it his scroll background too if he didn’t think you’d see it and think it was weird.”

“I wouldn’t think it was weird,” she said softly, not so secretly relishing the idea of Hunter wanting to see the picture often. She did look cute. “Why would he care if I think that’s weird?”

“Cuz he likes you,” Gus said simply. Willow was somewhat aware of this, well at least she had suspected it. She was more familiar with having a crush than being one, but her experience still help her deduce what she hoped to be true. But she also knew that crushes could fade, and she suspected that she might be Hunter’s first crush. She remembered how confusing and bubbly her first crush had been, but she also remembered how it was as short as it was intense. As much as she knew she returned Hunter’s (supposed) feelings, she didn’t want to rush him because she didn’t if he was still figuring it out or if he wanted these feelings acknowledged.

“Maybe.” was all Willow said as her finger traced the careful way Hunter had written his name on the bright yellow notebook Luz had given him. The spine was bent and the pages warped from writing and doodles, it never left his sight so when she received the message casually inquiring if he had forgetten it there she knew it had to have been left there on purpose. Otherwise there would be a panicky audio call or a separate message in all caps marked urgent in the group chat.

“Was that him?” Gus asked, already knowing the answer as he heard Willow’s scroll ding. She simply nodded as she took a picture of herself holding the book to confirm its location to which Hunter quickly replied that he would be back to get it later, if that was alright.

Later, she though. When no one else is around.

She gave Gus’ words some thought, remembering instances where he had come back to retrieve something or when she had brought it to him. It had just been them, but how had that made a difference?

“He saw it in a movie,” Gus offered, as though answering her thoughts again. Was he reading her mind??

“What?”

“A few movies, actually.” Gus said. “Where one person leaves something and when they go get it or the person returns it they have like a moment.”

“A moment? Like what kind of moment?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what kind of moment Park,” scoffed Gus, still not looking up from his scroll. He didn’t need to to know she was wearing a smitten, goofy expression.

Had they had a moment and Willow just hadn’t realized it? Was that possible?

When she brought down the shopping bag he had left in the girls’ room months ago, she had ended up staying in the basement for an hour helping him arrange the patches he had bought.

After flyer derby practice when he came back to get his water bottle, they had ended up sitting on the bench watching matches on her scroll.

When he came outside looking for his umbrella he had allegedly left nearby, he had stayed with her in the garden and listened to her talk about how well the strawberries were doing.

They never did find his umbrella. Thinking about it now, Willow was pretty sure he didn’t even have one.

Those were moments. Small ones, sure, but they added up to Willow. Maybe asking her directly to hang out one on one seemed too forward in his eyes or too intimidating. This way, he had an excuse to leave just as much as he had an excuse to be there. Willow would be lying if she said when she noticed the things he left behind she insisted on being the one to bring it to him.

“Why doesn’t he just… ask me?” Willow said as though she hasn’t been wondering this in the back of her mind for months now.

“Luz and Amity made him watch period pieces, apparently they’re all about the slow burn.” Gus explained. “He also might think there needs to a chaperone? I don’t really know. But I do know the one time I went to bring him something he forgot, he looked disappointed to see me which has never happened before.”

“Woah, that is serious.”

“I’ll let him know I’m leaving so he can come over and gawk at you in private,” said Gus, getting up from the couch.

“Gus, you don’t have to-.”

“Nah, I’m meeting up with Matt anyway,” shrugged Gus. “Vee and I are gonna try and explain DVD’s to him. He’s gonna feel so embarrassed for thinking they’re food.”

“You also thought they were food.”

“Yeah, but I only ate like one and a half he’s eaten like six,” countered Gus. “Have fun with your little moment.”

Willow rolled her eyes endearingly as Gus made his way to the door.

“And if you still don’t believe me, if you look closely at the shapes he drew on with marker, you can tell they used to be little hearts with your initials inside,” said Gus, sticking his head back in one last time. “He tried convincing me it was a glyph.”

———

When Hunter did make his way back to Willow’s, he knocked gently on the door. Everyone else knew to just come in, but Hunter always insisted on doing things the formal way. Willow was realizing this was true about everything he did.

She was standing there, waiting for him holding his notebook tightly to her chest as she ran her plan through her head one last time. How could she be sure it was the right time?

“Thank you Captain,” he said, a smiling spreading across his face as she opened the door. He was clearing trying to seem as though he was relieved it was safe and not as though he hadn’t been totally certain this whole time.

“Of course,” she said. She was overly aware of how his fingers lingered as they brushed against hers, each holding one end of the notebook like an indirect hand hold. They had held hands before, on purpose, so why did this feel… like more? Was it because it was unclear if the contact was intentional? Was Hunter trying to create a moment or was he hoping to stumble into one?

Was he waiting for her like she had been waiting for him? Where they stuck in a never ending loop of “accidental” encounters, trying to collect enough moments to amount to something obvious? The familiar rush in Willow’s chest told her they had been in the strange loop for awhile now, unaware if progress was being made.

“Thanks uh, for having me over.” Hunter said leaning against the door frame, lingering in their farewell.

“Of course,” she said, twirling her braid around her finger. “Do you… have everything?”

“Um, yeah I think so.” He said, not trying too hard to make sure.

She fought back a wide smile. He would normally consult a check list to prevent being forgetful again. He was looking for an excuse to see her again. Alone.

“Well, actually now that I think about it, I did find something else that you left behind.” said Willow.

“You did?” Hunter asked, having always kept detailed track of his items and knew he had already retrieved the only thing he had “left” there.

“Yeah,” said Willow softly. “I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s yours at least.”

“Oh, what is it?”

“Hold on, lemme get it.” Willow pretended to search her pocket and come out with something in her fist. As Hunter reached out his hand to take it, she instead grabbed onto it to pull him down closer to her so she could place a firm and purposeful kiss on his cheek. When she went down from her tip toes to see his face, she was delighted to see it was a crimson mixture of delight and confusion. She bit her lip as he pretended to clear his throat and tried to remember what words were.

“I-I-I left that?” he sputtered, not sure what else to say but knowing he had to say something as his hand touched the spot she had kissed as though he was holding it in place.

“I think so?” Willow said as though they were talking about something common like a pencil. She could tell her face was starting to turn a matching hue to his as she pressed on. “Hmm, ya know what it might be mine actually. Buuut, you can hold onto it if you want and get it back to me when I see you next or ya know… whenever.”

“Yes, of course,” said Hunter as though she had handed him a satchel of diamonds for safe keeping. “I-I’ll hold onto it for you. Of course.”

“Okay then, great.” She said, her eyes darting to the ground as she kicked the invisible dirt.

“Yeah, for sure yeah.” Hunter was trying in vain not to stutter and sweat but his mind would not free him from the fresh scent of dirt and lilacs that her hair carried and the way it flooded his senses when she so effortlessly pressed her soft lips to his face. No romantic drama could’ve ever prepared him for this.

“And, uh, no rush, okay?” Said Willow as she rocked back and forth on her heels. “I was gonna give it to you anyway, so uh i-if you wanna keep it and don’t wanna return it I won’t be-.”

“Oh, did you want it back?” Hunter asked, a subtle sound of panic in his voice as he stepped down from the doorway onto the porch. Willow wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. She had hoped she could leave the ball in his court, give him time to process the action and his feelings but now the part of him that was etiquette focused was pulling apart her messy metaphor. She did want it back, right? Or did she want him to keep it? What was the difference? Titan, this whole thing went smoother in her head.

“I uh…” she started, biting her thumb as she looked at him looking at her with wide, glistening eyes. She was trying so desperately to be cute and charming but should she just be direct? Had she left the loop too soon? Was Hunter actually just very forgetful, despite everything she knew about him suggesting the opposite?

“Do you wanna do something tomorrow?” He said quickly.

“What?” Willow asked, so caught up in her own internal spiral that she wanted to make sure she hadn’t misheard him.

“Do you… wanna do something with me? Like… just the two of us?” He asked again, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes looked to the sky. “Together.”

“Okay.” She said softly.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She said, wishing that time could move faster for them.

“Cool! Great! Awesome! Yeah I’ll uh, message you? And we’ll figure out what we can… yeah okay. So I’m just gonna…I’ll bring your… thing with me too. If you.. um decide you want it back.”

Willow wasn’t sure if they had arrived at the same meaning with the metaphor, but she had high hopes for how Hunter planned to return her kiss to her.

“Promise you won’t forget it?” She asked with a mischievous grin.

Hunter returned her smile as he placed his hand to his cheek as though putting the gesture in to his hand and then put it in his pocket for safekeeping.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

#huntlow #idk I thought it was cute #willow park #Hunter toh #winter toh #toh #huntlow fanfiction #the owl house

287 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 8 months

Note

Hello. I wasn’t the anon from last time but I realized my question came off as rude and standoff-ish. it was actually just a genuine question of whether you think all webtoon original creators are/should be held to the same level of scrutiny as LO is. You said before that its okay for indie comics to look messy or unprofessional because they’re passion projects. But I was just thinking of all the webtoon originals that are overworked and under paid. Kind of makes me feel bad because webtoon presents them as professional works— yet treats them like indie projects. And its throwing them under the bus because they dont have any of the same resources as traditional print. When rachel gets called out for reusing panels/artworks, adding filler, and taking shortcuts it sets a precedent that all webtoon originals shouldn’t do that.

Oh you're good!!! Sorry if I came at you like a flying monkey, it was just very similar to the last set of asks so I made a faulty assumption LOL

I do think there's a lot of responsibility on WT's shoulders to do better by their creators. A lot of them are burnt out, underpaid, overworked, as you said, and I'm definitely not looking past that. The only reason I get on Rachel's case as much as I do is because she has WAY more assistants than others, people who are literally industry professionals (seriously, look up their socials/art pages sometime, some of these people literally work in the larger entertainment industries like movies and gaming, it makes it feel like their skills are being SEVERELY wasted on LO with how bad it looks week after week) and there's just a lot of evidence that points to how much Rachel lies about how much she contributes (she's also definitely one of the top earning creators on the platform, at least here in NA). That's not even getting into how much WT carries Rachel and LO on their shoulders, from giving LO extensive ad space every week (ad space that's constantly being fought for by other Originals creators who are lucky to get even a couple hours per season in the ad roulette) to outright paying for awards and articles to be written about it. Like, far be it from me to make assumptions as an outsider looking in, but I don't get the sense that Rachel is in the same ballpark of struggling that a lot of Originals creators are. If anything there are probably creators struggling to be seen right now because of WT constantly giving her and her comic preferential treatment over others. And yeah, that's on Webtoons, but you don't exactly see Rachel doing anything to lift up her peers or talk about her experiences with Webtoons the same way many other creators are and that says a lot IMO.

And, speaking as a creator and as a reader, I'm definitely not against the notion of webtoon creators using whatever shortcuts they need to use, but I still feel like there's a line you gotta draw somewhere before those shortcuts become definitively "lazy" low quality crutches. Those kinds of shortcuts can become a very slippery slope between "doing the best you can" and "making no effort at all". If I can use a creator who's not Rachel as an example, Let's Play has a LOT of this kind of thing going on.

I can totally empathize with needing to use shortcuts, I use them all the time and I'm not being burnt at both ends the same way Originals creators are, but while there is the concern that criticizing them sets a precedent that people shouldn't use them ever, there's the opposite concern that not talking about it when it's very obviously cheap sets a precedent that it's okay to give your audience garbage and still expect them to stick around and pay money for your work.

It's not really a battle that sits squarely on the shoulders of the creators, though, a lot of it does come down to Webtoons. But I think there are also creators who are just sorta like that. See Snailords as an example, they use WT underpaying them all the time as an argument/excuse for their behavior, but they're a genuinely shitty person with a nasty attitude who very blatantly manipulates their young audience (literally made up of children!) and they've been like that since before they joined WT as an Originals creator, so it doesn't matter if WT is in the picture or not, Snailords is just like that.

When it comes to Rachel, I genuinely believe that she wasn't always like this with her work, there was a time when she put actual effort into her art - but that time has been long gone since 2019/2020. And I don't think WT paying her more or loosening the strictness of her deadlines is the solution, I just think LO should have ended a long time ago before it got to that point. When LO's art and writing started to turn, there was that initial concern that it was her taking these shortcuts out of necessity for her health and work/life balance... but then there's a point where it becomes abundantly clear that the creator just doesn't care anymore and I think that's a point Rachel crossed a long time ago, probably around the start of S2 if I had to try and guess exactly where.

When it comes right down to it, Webtoons Originals is still a form of publisher, and if you sign that contract, you're going to be held to higher standards than creators who aren't because you're no longer a hobbyist, you're doing this as your job. That's not to say you don't deserve empathy ever, especially in the working climate that WT demands, but if you're gonna be working as a professional in an industry that's begging to be respected among its peers, you gotta hold yourself to higher standards. To really get across what I mean by that, if the webtoon/webcomic industry wants to be taken seriously, especially here in the west where it's competing with DC and Marvel, maaaybe it should at least have some modicum of quality control to ensure there's a mutual level of respect between the audience and the creator. I think that's something WT needs to be taking more seriously and, by extension, they should be doing more to both provide assistance and accommodations to their creators as well as quality control to ensure they're holding these works to a standard they expect people to pay for. This is especially true for a comic like LO which they're insisting still has a show in development (they aren't but that's another topic lol), of course people are gonna have higher standards for a comic that's won as many awards as it has and has gotten television and merch deals.

And aside from all that, I don't think anyone gets mad right off the bat at a comic that isn't "perfect", usually they'll just go "oh okay, this is what the comic is, it's not for me" and move on (Religiously Gay is an example of a comic like this, there was already a lot of controversy surrounding it when it came out but it was pretty clear that was just what the comic was so I didn't bother reading it further). It's when a comic starts off on a good note and builds that rep and then becomes a cheap reproduction of what it used to be that audiences tend to get more upset - because the creator has built that rep with them and set those expectations, which they're now failing. Look no further than S8 of Game of Thrones. It's often WAY more disappointing than a project just never improving in quality in the first place because you're seeing, in real time, a project you know can do better fail at that and even get worse.

I'll also mention, on a personal note, that I've found shortcuts that I tried and ultimately didn't end up liking, even if they technically improved the output of my work. I started using 3D models last year for my main project, and while they improved my anatomy consistency, now they're making my poses feel very stiff, lifeless and boring, and my characters just don't feel alive anymore. So I'd MUCH rather have expressive art that's a little messy sometimes than stiff art with an accurate hip to torso ratio. I still aim for consistency as best I can, obviously I don't want my characters' appearances to be morphing from panel to panel, but in practice, most people don't care or notice if an arm or leg is a little out of place.

All that said, when it comes to LO, I don't call that stuff out as like, a genuine legit criticism. It's more just because it's hilarious and I often can't believe I never noticed those things (which is exactly the former point I just mentioned at play, most people don't notice these things). So that's where I'll repeat, don't confuse my shitposting of LO and how silly it can look in hindsight with like, legitimate criticism that I would blanket apply to every project I read. Apply common sense where necessary. Don't ever punch down.

And maybe also just don't use me as a monolith for these things, I'm literally just a guy talking shit on the Internet and participating in some of the worst that fandom culture has to offer LOL Time will tell if I will ever pay for my crimes（；´д｀）ゞ

#maybe i should start holding myself to a higher standard if people are taking my shitposting as a behavior manual u.u #also damn webtoons do better #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #ask me anything #ama #antiloreolympus #anon ama #anon ask me anything

55 notes · View notes