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unproduciblesmackdown · 11 months

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i think i've only seen a soma playthrough twice and the first time i didn't absorb it great lol but upon just some light brushing up (incl a short article that was one of the few results that cropped up when i was like "show me the images for 'soma's save feature featured fisting, right' (yeah basically)") it's like, it's always fun when you're just left with a lot of room to Interpret Themes and unsurprisingly at this juncture i'm lasering in on just, like, the matter of [the self vs the other] via this premise that basically people can just make a copy of their Psyche at any point (but needing to find a new & different Soma in which to upload it but like, largely setting that aside when In This Scenario the new bodies don't affect their minds / sense of self at all....except for when they sometimes do? or maybe not. the like glitchy monsters are just kind of WAU automatons, right. and the people are all able to act / communicate themselves as people, though they might be affected by like, existential crises over the goings on) wherein like....the protagonist can Split In Two* at a few points via the psyche copying/uploading, and then the game Follows the copy that will be continuing to advance the plot, and the version of the protagonist we Were following is now An Other even though it's like, that was The Self (at least insofar as that was our first person pov player character) up till just now. and the protagonist can Know like, yeah that's You right over there also. and yet iirc from like, yesterday's light research, in the first instance he at least gets the Option to kill that Other/Self who was, up till just then, the Self to us too, if that makes him feel better abt the existential crisis, or at least discomfort, enough to like, keep moving right along lol (speaking of. just the other day i was like "adagioly onomatopoeiaing the opening banjo strums of rainbow connection from the muppet movie soundtrack does so much for me" and then i learned it was the anniversary of its theatrical release. hell yes. also memorably once when like marinating for hours in a general malaise & failing to find the wherewital to get up i was like "haha oh wait. i'm playing the song 'movin right along' from the muppet movie in my head. okay" up & at em)

anyways the fisting article (which, i was wondering what thoughts it would have on that truly interesting facet of the game. mostly it posited that the uhh sphincteresque penetration of it all would be Typically considered to make cishet men anxious / threatened / vulnerable, and notes the protagonist (hypothetically a cishet man) is indeed trepidatious about it, while also arguing he markedly Doesn't really hesitate in shit that hurts or endangers others in the course of his shit (though ig that can also depend on the player? haven't really rewatched it recently enough to know how much his dialogue adds to [as a character though he's making it clearer he just wants to cut a swath through your shit asap]) and also questions whether the game thinks of (or, from their argument, knows of) the protag as pretty sphincteresque himself. and like yeah probably imo lol like thee ending being what it is, and as far as i know no like Multiple Endings like in amnesia series* stories usually, and thus more room to have a protagonist who talks to characters in the present and i think like, without the ability to choose what he says

anyways that the protagonist can Understand like, hey see that guy over there, that's literally also you rn, and yet he can [Not accept that] in one case such that he'll kill that Self for "his own" Self's comfort really, as the fisting article expressed, to continue believing he is Unique and the One True Self, the only Real [himself]. when, to be sure, the game Could have kept the first person pov on that version of him we'd Been up till then, and had that pov of the one killed. or maybe left behind in another instance, i don't remember all the "transfers"....catherine Explicitly explaining that only the copy/upload format is possible, Not Transfers, making sense what with like. her magic brain scans that can can wholly parse & store your Psyche data, whatever that'd be like, definitely not being meant to, say, Extract the person's Psyche from their living human body upon doing so. while the ending's drama comes from the game Now staying with the version of the protag who'd been our first person pov character prior to that "transfer," who is Again like "why am i still here" despite having the "it's not actually a transfer" explained, b/c This version Just So Happens to be the copy of the copy of the copy like simon(4) or (5) or whatever and ofc can't have been the one(s) already just left behind somewhere back there in the complex or he wouldn't have been able to be at that point in the first place. and then "killing" catherine b/c he's so pissed, i remember it as him hitting whatever device was her effective Soma, but the article i think suggested she just got too stressed in turn and that Output fried the device. while, of course, post credits shows us their "transferred" selves just fine chilling in the ark like whew glad all that's done with

anyways just getting around to the fact of how it's easy to land on catherine as the center of the game....and of course she's the one really Not having crises over [my god, copies of my Self] or others' selves or what all, having even less of a usual Soma than simon but rolling with it, and evidently having already fully absorbed her Self as a distinct version from her original Self, despite having the same links to her that make simon or anyone else who's been copied into whatever other Soma feel like he's continuously been Himself(tm), the one true Real Self he's always been....and like, naturally catherine being the one behind the entire project of [what if we copy/paste people's psyches into a big ol mmorpg server & shoot it into space so that Maybe something can happen with them / in a way they can continue to exist] so she's Been thinking of, you know, being separate from these Selves turned Others who you'll jettison into space beyond even the body of the earth. unless it's supposed to stay in orbit lol i do not remember the details....and ofc like plenty of other people are like wow that's Fucked Up or it's Not Us and like, the latter sure is true with with the [copying, not transferring] element, but also the former is more choose your own adventure (interpretation) when the game isn't about like, and the simulation Is fucked up, or there's any element of distress or dissonance to existing on the ark, though you can't really know that until the post credits scene confirms you're just hanging out for real....which, that article was also going in on the character who's on this quest to kill the WAU as like "the versions of us it makes isn't Real it's Corrupting" and like, arguably the WAU as just kind of, naturally, something capable of growing, and doing so, and the real problem seeming to come in with the [doing whatever for supposed safety but superceding/supplanting/displacing autonomy in doing so] like, people who did not agree to whatever was done re: their Somas or they would've remembered & been like yeah i'm hanging out as a robot now, or a goop guy, gunk [YES], etc. but separate from that obvious issue it's like, my guy, You're a copy made by the WAU now lol, you're your whole person that you are, with the thoughts & feelings to decide you wanna go on a quest to destroy it, and whatever capacity to pursue it....either way i think the game makes it clear enough the WAU is a Neutral force exercising no conscious discernment, it Is a body, or it's some body (once told me) anyways lol, though i guess i did just go "those Monsters that can chase you are just wau manifestations right" so that's getting kind of complex lol, but even that can be taken as, like, it Mimicking human's shapes & bipedality & other external characteristics, i guess, and just the way an overall theme can be [hmm where's that division between the soma and psyche, machine and ghost] the WAU has been expanding and making various forms of itself, and of humans, and that's also an element of the fisting that starts out as a fingering and can end with having to leave part of yourself in WAU's core if you have completed the choice to corrupt & destroy it, that Connection and Interfacing is required, with increasing [get it in there] required as well though there's no given clear in universe reason why (w/my theory here being: just the Themes of the increasing interaction / reducing Boundary)

where was i going with this. idk naturally there's people like "well you don't have to see the wau as evil or at least required to be destroyed" like yeah one can imagine the case for that, wherein again this one guy's hypothetically mad abt like oh it can't be Us it's making, like, brother in christ You are here as You are b/c of what wau did, if you don't think You're legitimate enough, how can you be dead set on pursuing any decision you make. but also the lack of autonomy wherein wau has (probably? again would have to rewatch) killed people to transfer them to a less fragile soma, but a) also maybe it's just acted when people were already dying / killed from other causes, and naturally there's the Everyone There Doomed To Die Fairly Imminently factor and b) that [wau's neutral / purely soma no psyche (or is it. etc)] aspect that is that classic mixup of wau just acting on its programming in a way unintended by its programmers re protecting life and c) i think WAU can sure be interpreted as a parallel counterpart to the ark project, where people agreed to the latter, & get to chill with simulated bodies in a simulated world, versus the WAU being that [body, world, realm of physical existence] which is funky & Not like a cool nice recreation of the usual world & is also at the bottom of the ocean, but it's sure trying to extend the existence of ppl's psyches by shoving them into whatever robots or slapping together parts or propping up their original body or what all, i don't remember that many of the characters encountered

Anyways Back To Catherine For Real. i'd forgotten this element completely, but that when catherine finds out her original self had been killed by crewmates (lol. amongst) for being set on carrying out the plan for the ark, Her Project, (i.e. launching it into space (risking that launch going incorrectly) vs keeping it on site at the bottom of the ocean here (theoretically less risky, according to at least the crewmate who killed her about her insisting on launching it anyways)) and catherine's copy / now alternate self comments on being like, a bit disappointed And surprised b/c like she says "i knew they didn't like me, but," like not thinking that dislike would lead to a semi accidental killing her (where apparently the guy who killed her may have been wearing the like powered diving suit w/the extra Strength to operate in the water pressure, like oh didn't mean to hit her That hard. in a different soma already) and seeing other ppl (not in universe) commenting on how it sure did seem to be culmination of like "the way others treated her" and how catherine always mentioned like, never having really had friends including as a crewmate here, being an Introvert....in fact, now i'm remembering that catherine doesn't even say "i knew they didn't like me, but" but rather something very close to "i know i'm not easy to like, but" like, aaaugh....like, as ever, a character or a Real Life Person sharing any particular info like "i'm [xyz]" Isn't Required for just trying to always not be ableist and to always treat other people as people even if they don't "just be normal" correctly enough, supposedly. rather than [what is "just being normal" is Correct & Good and you do Not need to undergo a continuous lifelong journey of in fact questioning this & navigating & learning how to communicate & interact & relate, you just need to fleetingly muster some superficial unhelpful Bonus efforts sometimes when you encounter the rare "exception" like someone who hands you their License To Autiste and you can let them keep their fidget cube and continue treating everyone you encounter ever organic aba style]....like, naturally in the game there's no twist where catherine turns out to be Evil or even antagonistic. she's like, patient, encouraging, friendly, helpful all throughout. she's also, ofc, simon's only guide (adding to the suspense of that [my god. my only guide was evil, and/or just my antagonist now anyways]) so he doesn't really get to pick someone he'd Like more. but that like, lifelong matter of why catherine doesn't Get to have had friends. that even as this professional associate she's treated differently, and worse, b/c you have to personally like someone & find them charming & je ne sais quoissy to Not be worse to them? it's fine to be shitty until catherine can, say, say "i've noticed you're being kind of shitty. it's probably b/c i'm autistic, officially, which i'm choosing to share with you & am now presenting my license about it, so maybe be cool about it" and then and only then go "oh ok" and Make The Exception rather than shifting your entire shitty Rule (they also would not actually really make the exception. "shoutout" too to the concept that, of course, it's actually Disrespectful to stop hating autistic ppl b/c you should treat them The Same as anyone else, and you're bringing that organic ABA all the time as part of your "just be normal" ethos life, so be sure to keep being an asshole to them & double empathy probleming putting all the depletion, extraction, punishment, losses, harms on them and all the rewards on yourself)

and like, catherine being killed b/c she was this Body who was going to take away the ark (her project / creation, which she was also just insisting on following what'd always been the plan for) wherein like, even if this guy didn't mean to kill her, he sure did after lashing out at her, same as happens w/simon in the end....and catherine also failing to be thee most "normal/default" version of a person as well by being a Woman, and probably not white either, and, of course, a nonwhite woman, also making her that much more vulnerable to being Out Of Line(tm) by just like, existing as a person & trying to do her shit, though misogyny, racism, orientalism or the like isn't explicitly invoked or especially implicitly hinted at that hard either, but it's like, how does this [scifi magical realism set in the not That distant future but material made in the way less distant past, i.e. all intents & purposes modern / current day of: in the 2010s] have Relevance beyond "would that be fucked up or what" type Invention that doesn't map on to our experiences at all....you don't Have to read into catherine twice being killed by a man who's lashing out b/c she's not delivering what he wants, but you sure don't Have to Not and be like "this is definitely No Misogyny world" like they're still being implicitly ableist b/c she's just not deemed Winsomely Likable enough, she's internalized that with that "i'm not easy to like" framing, why assume a premise of [misogyny is over] [racism is over] etc. whilest soma doesn't really proffer any scenario of like "oh if it weren't for our being able to perceive our designated Physical Differences in our human bodies, all that oppression would be over," that's not being explored even in the specific situation of its plot in the first place; people on the ark seem to have the simulation of the same bodies they originally did, ppl Can retain like, how they'd move, their voices, their sense of their bodies: elements of their physicality. and, you know, whether one even supposes there Is any meaningful body/mind division, though in soma it Is this premise like oh yeah we can digitize your psyche perfectly okay, such that your copy would experience no disruption in that Sense Of Selfness, which is what makes everything particularly like, whoah, and [wow this is just like soma] whenever something kind of invokes similar enough What Ifs but probably less engagingly lol....while also soma is flexible and spacious in letting you interpret shit, you Can defer from fisting wau to death, you don't have to be like "it's so true. thee horrors" abt the Copies Of Selves, who really just become Others to whatever now-other versions of that person, i.e. how catherine, who, as the person who wanted to scan copies of ppl's psyches & put them in a just chilling simulation server launched into space for the Chance of being copy/pasted elsewhere eventually and the chance for the participants to Exist in some form Now, and who did so, is never like, shocked or freaked out by the notion / reality of these copies' existence even though she didn't set out figuring any scans' uploads would end up on the ocean floor stations, she's not aghast & distressed in the end when after having uploaded her latest Self data to the ark & launched it, she's also Not on the ark and Still in the eventually / doomed ocean floor station, even if it's a bummer, b/c she has already just accepted That's How It Works....this [her] was not going to experience being Transferred, like she's Been saying, like she again tells simon while he's blowing up abt [why wasn't i transferred]....just clearly being an example of like, not everyone is like horrified and freaked out and like "that's fake &/or wrong" and you don't have to decide she's incorrect for being Like That, i.e. like, yep, this is the situation, i know there's the me who was killed and the me on the ark and the me here, and i know also we're also for intents and purposes separate people

all that is to say, like, yeah the Scifi What If specific [you can copy/paste your consciousness into a different soma] is there, but also you can be looking at it as just this like, pushing to thee limit of the Self(tm) and the Other(tm) insofar as imagining yourself, as the only Internality / Mind / Selfhood you have access to, as The One True Real Self and all Others as mere somas/bodies, whether you take that to as dehumanizing an extreme as you can or you just put some double standards on Others / treat them as lesser/less Real, or oh but just Sometimes, in Some Cases, which is fine and relevant to anything, rather than what's fine and relevant being to always be aware that everyone's Otherness is a matter of perspective, you're the Other to everyone else, everyone is just as The Self as everyone else, You Could Be That Other, that other Is [you] to themself, you are the "that could be you" to them....with soma, it can just be elevated to "that Other WAS you from 0.5 mmsec ago, and continues to be them, b/c they didn't experience any disruption in their existence, though now you're both in different situations of: different locations, different bodies, the awareness there's that Other Self over there now, possibly the difference of killing that self you were just copied from so you can go on feeling like the One Real Self"....but wherein like, that's just like, [What If: you Were able to wholly & accurately Know the self inside an Other? b/c it's you from 5 min ago] of like, scenarios like [what if you time traveled 5 min into the past] except wherein that case there's usually the efforts to Resolve(tm) the timeline of that One True Self one way or another, ultimately. or is there. obviously who's positing that soma is the only material to be About the "whoa lol. me as an other" concept made scifily literal or anything

anyways that like, it creates that situation wherein one Can point & go "literally literally me" but also simultaneously one Can go "that's Not literally me arrrgh" or "that's also Not literally me, matter of factly"....simon's wrangling with the Othering of his One True Self, but he can also Know, should he choose to shift to that perspective, that all the Others who aren't alternate copies of him are all Another True Selves, An Other True Self even, though ofc as per the nature of not having a collective consciousness, he Doesn't Know the accurate whole of their psyches b/c he was not ever [literally them], but he doesn't need to to know they're just as [a whole psyche in there] as his own have been. original catherine with her fellow original crewmates being othered enough by them for the dehumanization of treating her worse, her being isolated, that indeed her being killed doesn't feel separate from all that by her or by anyone else, just an escalated extreme final fatal manifestation of it, b/c nobody ever liked her in the first place and then she became a (psyche Piloting a) body getting in the way of what one guy with amplified strength at that moment wanted from the project she made to let others' psyches keep existing in some way, which was deemed valuable enough by that guy to want to commandeer it and keep it at the bottom of the ocean versus risk a launch, regardless of how you the player think of the idea

and thinking of the way you can like, effectively befriend that boxy underwater little propellered Regular Simple Robot Helper that follows you around at some point, that is, of course it can't talk to you, it's definitely Just(tm) this not-ever-a-version of a human robot for practical tasks (dyspeptical tasks, clerical tasks, hysterical tasks) and like, imagine Its interiority, get invested, try to protect it, humanize it regardless....whereas with actual humans, and their psyches in a microchip, you can kill them for not perfectly delivering whatever you wanted even when that's not what other humans ever exist to do. then simon loses the Company he still could've Gotten From catherine, [guy who killed original catherine] didn't succeed in keeping the ark unlaunched, b/c that's what you go and do....but really just thinking of that Thread that feels so extremely relevant of like, catherine copy being simon's only option sure and working With him on this mission until we stay with the edition of him who realizes it didn't lead to his escape onto the ark, i.e. always being in relation to him in a manner of a direct practical teamup & a [take it or leave it] sole option for that anyways....but that in her original, human-bodied life, she was always "oh only a little bit" dehumanized by everyone such that she is very much aware of the way that's defined & limited her life, never had friends, i know i'm difficult to like; until that dehumanization escalated to the extreme of trying to hit her to stop her from seeing her project through, and just happening to kill her, and the fact that this seems to no one just a coincidental whoopsie of a fate just entirely disconnected from the way others always saw her and treated her as this Other among others, while other [psyche/soma]s of others who are clearly not Your Self get to have friends and not be isolated and feel hard to like forever and end up killed by coworkers

tl;dr like love a text just inviting plenty of interpretations and lenses and perspectives, ofc gonna look at it like whoa it's anarchy in there (political cats sense) where are the borders where you are thee self above thee other....soma providing that thinnest boundary of like, yeah that mf over there? there but for the [being in a different body, in a different place, with 7 seconds of negligibly different life experience] go ye. but also the usual boundary of "that person is in a different body in a different place with a different whole life but you're [that] to them and they're just as much a person and a self and an other as you are" like catherine center of the game to me

(* just remembered i had these asterisks: sure enjoying how the premise of amnesia games effectively creates Alternate Selves b/w the protagonist's present self, with however much missing time, and past selves whose goings on are completely relevant to the in media res situation you're also tackling while obtaining pieces of that past to priovide further context/info, and how this premise manifests for different stories each time; you've even got oswald like physically divided into Two Selves in a:amfp, though iirc it's not like, psychically equivalent, kinda "regular oswald & nefarious destroy the world duplicitous oswald" lmao, classic....uhh and shoutout to penumbra being similar ish in that the protagonist's story isn't want's relevant, he's trying to find out what happened to his dad and more broadly the like underground pocket world he enters for those answers? iirc....but that soma shares that amnemonic premise of [intro] [suddenly like ???] [having to navigate your present mission & figure out the past & your Missing time] but like, thee respective Lores don't overlap really, soma obviously starts present day and takes an even more obvious leap into a future / completely different location, rather than amnesia games being set in the past with missing time of like, idk months? to even just days, uhh supposedly like [forever] in justine but that's like, i dunno sure lol, the peak mysterious / withheld protagonist really, on purpose. while naturally there's also the fact that, technically, this simon we are following at the start of the game did not actually forget anything, and that's a fun distinction despite that it otherwise initially seems like the same [amnesia] premise....and that he did kind of ""forget"" things in that original simon lived however much longer before dying, that his scan then ofc didn't retroactively include. so once again it's like, well, in amnesia ppl have likewise kind of rewound to a Past Self before the missing [crucial context to your in media res misadventure] time, w/daniel (and justine) even doing this On Purpose, though as is the nature of the amnesia series, everyone regains enough of that missing info about their goings on anyways, though you the player are Not in a story of like "wow they did Exactly the same thing again and ended up in the same place anyways" and Do get to kinda choose who they are / indeed end up with some Alternate Self, potentially, despite there being plenty of room wherein like, it's not precisely, granularly laid out Exactly Who They Are at any point anyways. only just now getting extra amnemonic lore that yes daniel got all fucked up on vitae rituals b/c that's just what happens! and people are fairly horny for it! always a possible interpretation that he was high on vitae (okay one proffered pronunciation of "curriculum vitae" (which i was like lord i feel like i've gone "what tf is that" about before but what tf is that. turns out it's what CV stands for as your specifically educational resumé) does say "vitae" would, in that case, rhyme with "nigh." other sources are listing like a million different combinations of a million different ways to pronounce each syllable. also they gotta say it a way in the game but i forget. daniel's VA apparently being some chemistry teacher? just like alchemy. not what the pope said to do, weird science, it's my creation....) anyways! the psyches diverge, the bodies don't, unless they do (oswald....uhh the guy in the bunker. lambert :( ) like catching up with The Self again, encountering extreme examples of Othering and Dehumanizing and [you are just like only a soma to me] with various means and ends of acting thusly to get xyz results

#uhh nominal tagging. i probably have nonzero soma posts...? maybe? lol #soma #amnesia #atdd #soma spoilers yeah but a) game's more than half a decade old at this point b) material that hinges on Surprising you the first time as like #thee sole worthwhile feature of its experience: probably not that good; i don't think soma's even dying to keep you from guessing any #''twists'' and if you Do it doesn't feel like you're like cheated of anything lol. though i'm sure the surprises are fun. the ending is sur #like yeah oh a fucked up surprise for the player too; but that's b/c the game of course Until Now followed the ''advancing'' simon copy #c) same as (b) but like spoilers don't really ruin things anyways imo. who is reading this in whole like ''damn i was Just gonna play this'#whereas idk now you know of it. also lbr who is reading this in whole period? probably some people lol. you do not have to ofc as a fact an #as a stance. i'm like; would i read someone's longass post abt something i don't already know abt / am not interested in? not often #d) if you Are like ''nooooo SOMA spoilers arrrgh i was Just abt to play it'' like damn my bad. i'm sorry. play it anyways it'll be fun #or e) watch a playthrough. i myself cannot Firsthand Game too much & this has generally been the case #long post ////#all this uncrucial and noncomprehensive but just taking 90k words & meandering tangents to say [hand over heart] catherine....#as is my mode of verbalizing anything really #i'll recommend the game easily enough; sure watched a full playthrough twice & may revisit for a thrice. or at least various clips lol #even got a safe mode (where you Can't Die so you can get through every part b/c thee story is the point anyways)

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variousqueerthings · 1 year

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got three things that i wanna think about with the show now that it's finished (not as negative or positive, although some of it is more one or the other)

the function of allo-romance and (vs?) queerness on the show

the three season structure and how it affected the characters

the overall ethos of it and the times it worked better or worse

with a couple of thoughts around the structure of football (which I kind of have given heart-eyes to already, but look, I just think football is Neat) and the "tease" of an afc womens team at richmond, and generally womens football (which, both of these also play into the thoughts on structure and ethos)

but yeah, I had a good time with that, I'm glad I watched this show, I'm interested in how it fits into current focuses and writing-styles, and some very talented people got to do some excellent work

#ted lasso #im watching ted lasso #am interested in how he writes himself out of the story at the end which yeah #he was the character who'd reached a certain Point moreso than most if not all of the other characters #this one wasnt a hyperfixation for me so have been able to just take it as is #and not get too hung up on how i maybe would have wanted it to be if id been more emotionally invested #i think it's been a very worthwhile fun story and the matches were wonderful!

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months

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Scout's Honor - Eddie Munson x Reader

Collaboration with my dearest @munson-blurbs

An As You Wish story

Summary: The annual Father-Daughter Girl Scout Square Dance comes around but Eddie and Steve are saddled with some car trouble.

Note: Everyone needs to go thank Bug for this incredibly adorable idea!

Words: 2.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Men.

Can’t live with them, can’t…convince them not to go fishing on the day of their daughters’ Girl Scouts events.

Eddie and Steve had promised you and Nancy that they would be home in time to take Eliza and Mia to the annual square dance.

“We’ll get an early start,” they’d said, ignoring Eliza’s insistence that she won’t go with her father if he reeks of fish. He’d just laughed, kissed her cheek, and reiterated that he would shower before the dance.

Maybe you’re naive for believing him. And yet, when the phone rang and Eddie’s sheepish voice explains that Steve’s car broke down—codeword for ‘we ran out of gas’—you’re wholly unsurprised.

“I always made fun of Wayne for fishing.” Eddie muses, the payphone crackling as he exhales. “Called it an old man activity. This is what I get.”

You grit your teeth, hand clenched in a fist. “Just…get home,” you hiss, hanging up the receiver and massaging your temples.

Who could have ever foreseen such an outcome?

While you’re stewing over the men’s incompetence, Mia remains levelheaded—just like her mother—and proposes a solution. “What if Luke and Ryan take us?”

Her suggestion is almost certainly rooted in her crush on your younger son, but it proves to be a worthwhile idea, nonetheless. Eliza’s face lights up, and before you know it, your five-year-old is dragging her brothers from their room.

“Please?” She pouts sweetly, batting her doe eyes up at them. “Daddy and Uncle Steve can’t make it, and we can’t go all alone.” She lays it on thick, knowing full well she doesn’t have to—the boys would do just about anything for her.

Ryan and Luke raid Eddie’s dresser drawers for flannels, finding the ones that he had nabbed from Wayne’s trailer. The girls don cowgirl hats, excitedly giggling as they climb into the back of the minivan. It’s still strange for you to see Ryan behind the wheel, but your heart swells with pride as you watch him double-check Eliza’s booster seat before pulling out of the driveway.

At seventeen years old, Eddie Munson spent his Saturday nights selling cheap weed at high school parties—many of them, ironically, thrown by “King” Steve Harrington.

At seventeen years old, Ryan Munson is spending his Saturday night taking his little sister and her best friend to the Girl Scouts square dance.

“Everyone buckled?” He calls back, already knowing that they are. Still, he waits until he receives a chorus of yeses before he drives off.

Luke turns around from the passenger seat. “Now, do we have to make a perfect square?” He keeps a serious expression, much to Ryan’s amusement. “Like, what if it’s a bit oval-y? Do we get kicked out? Do you two get banished from the Girl Scouts?”

Eliza and Mia are both used to his nonsense, and they burst into a fit of giggles. Ryan cracks a smile of his own, eyes trained on the road.

Precious cargo and all that.

When they arrive at the old VFW hall, the girls immediately pull them over to their group of friends. It’s a sea of young girls and their dads—and some moms—but nary a big brother in sight except for the two Munson boys.

Ryan barely has time to feel out of place. The emcee, a middle-aged woman with bright pink lipstick and a too-wide smile, grabs the mic.

“Welcome to our Father-Daughter Square Dance!” The room erupts into applause, quieting down only to hear about how this fundraiser supports the Girl Scouts of Indiana. The scouts repeat their pledge, which is met with more cheers, and then a western tune bleats over the old sound system.

Eliza grabs Ryan’s hand as the emcee calls out instructions. Mia is a bit shyer with Luke, but they still manage all of the steps without stomping on the other’s toes.

“Liza, I’m sorry Dad couldn’t make it,” Ryan says between songs.

Eliza gives him a small smile. “That’s okay. It’s kinda cooler to bring my big brother.”

He grins. Just wait until his dad hears that.

As everyone is getting into position for the next dance, a new song comes on that has more banjo than Luke has ever heard in his life.

“Oh, yeah. We’re definitely in Indiana,” he says.

Mia chuckles as she peeks up at Luke from beneath the brim of her straw cowgirl hat. A blue ribbon on one of her red pigtail braids is loose so Luke reaches down to fix it for the little girl. Mia’s freckled face blooms as red as her hair. Luke pretends not to notice, not wanting to embarrass her. The big crush on Luke became obvious when she was three, and now at ten, it’s still hanging around. The fifteen-year-old Munson boy thinks it’s flattering and only ever teases her if she starts it first.

“Ready?” Luke asks, offering Mia his hand.

“Ready!”

“But I didn't realize any of this until I was standing alone. In a barn... wife-less. Now, you can imagine my disappointment when it suddenly dawned on me that the woman I love is about to be kicked out of the country. So, Margaret. Marry me. Because I'd like to date you.”

Both you and Nancy hold your wine glasses, neither moving a muscle as you watch Ryan Reynolds catch up to Sandra Bullock in a New York City office building. An empty pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream sits between you on the couch, two green-smudged silver spoons resting inside.

With the men out fishing, Ryan and Luke out with the two girls, and Natalie watching the rest of the kids over at the Harrington house, your place became the ultimate Mom’s Night In for you and Nancy. A chance to drink a little, gossip a little, have some snacks and watch some romcoms.

Your peace has finally come to an end, however, when the front door bursts open and two men who reek of murky water, bug spray, and gasoline come barging in.

“Jesus, Steve,” Nancy says, face pinching up at the foul odor wafting from your husbands.

You wave a hand in front of your face as if that will make the smell dissipate any faster.

“How were the fish?” you ask, turning your head away to give your nostrils a fighting chance.

“We caught a grand total of zero,” Steve says with a sigh, his black fishing boots looking comically misplaced on him. Neither of the men look natural in fishing gear. But when a guy from work offered Eddie the use of his boat for the day, he found he couldn’t turn it down.

“Did you bring the fishing poles?” Nancy asks, sarcasm lining the amusement on her face.

Both men give her an annoyed side eye before Eddie looks around and takes a step towards you.

“Where are the girls?” he asks.

“Ryan and Luke took them to the dance,” you tell him. “They should be back soon.”

Steve grimaces and claps a heavy hand down on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Eliza’s gonna kill you.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and spins to meet his friend’s eye.

“And Mia won’t kill you?”

Steve grins. “Not if she got to dance with Luke.” This is the only time the man has ever been thankful for Mia’s crush on the Munson teen.

Front door still open from when the men barged in, Ryan, Luke, Eliza, and Mia walk inside, laughing and talking over one another. Ryan is giving Eliza a piggyback ride and Luke has Mia’s too-small cowgirl hat perched on top of his head. The moment Eliza’s wide brown eyes spot her father, she demands answers.

“Daddy, where were you?”

Ryan gently lets her down and she stomps over in her beige cowgirl boots, stopping right in front of Eddie.

“Liza, I’m so sorry,” Eddie pleads. “Our car broke down. We tried everything we could to get back in time—”

Tears build up in Eliza’s eyes and Eddie feels his heart constrict in his chest. It might as well be Eliza’s little fist squeezing it.

“You were s’post to go with me!”

Eddie sighs and runs a ringed, smelly hand over his face. “I know. And I promise I’ll go next time. But I’m glad you got to bring your brothers.

“Did you have fun at least?” Steve asks from behind him.

Mia nods emphatically and both you and Nancy have to bite your lips to keep from smiling.

Eliza nods in agreement, although not as enthusiastically as her friend. “Yeah. And Ryan is a good dancer.”

Luke smirks, and if Eddie were looking at him, he’d see the devious glint in his eye. “Not as good as Dad, I’m sure.”

Loud snickers come from you, Nancy, and Steve. Eddie’s jaw drops open as he looks around the room.

“I can dance!”

“Yeah, Dad?” Ryan asks.

“Yeah!”

“Lucky for you, we’re all right here to witness it,” Luke says with a shrug.

Eddie scoffs and shakes his head. “There’s no music. And I don’t really think my Metallica is easy to groove to.”

“We’ve got my Billy Joel—” you start.

“Or my *NSYNC!” Mia adds.

“No,” Eddie says. “Thank you girls, but no.”

Smirk only growing larger, Luke pats his father on the shoulder. “Lucky for you, we’ve got just what you need.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow as he watches his son take a CD out of a Target bag he was conveniently hiding behind his back.

“How was fishing, by the way?” Luke asks as he wrestles with the plastic engulfing the case.

“Pointless,” Steve says.

“Your uncle didn’t bring enough bait,” Eddie added. Steve is about to refute but Luke speaks before he gets the chance.

“But you would have, Dad? Does that make you a master baiter?”

Ryan is the only one who is unable to contain his laughter. The joke goes over the girls’ heads, but you give your son a soft glare anyway. Never mind that you found it hilarious, just as you know the other adults did as well, but sometimes you’ve got to be the parent.

Luke shrugs it off and pops the finally-freed CD into the stereo and the sound of a bow sawing over fiddle strings fills the room. Your second-oldest nods his head to Eliza.

“Go ahead, Lize. Show the old man how it’s done.”

“There’s not enough room to square dance in here,” Eddie says.

Without even so much as glancing at one another, you and Nancy get off of the couch and push it back, making plenty more space in the living room. The two of you smirk at one another and Nancy crosses her arms over her chest.

“Y’know, I don’t think it’s fair that you guys get to reap the benefits of your daughters being Girl Scouts without putting in the work.”

A grin grows on your face as you see where Nancy is going with this.

“Yeah,” you agree, “maybe you don’t need more Samoas this year.”

Eddie’s face falls, and he looks at Steve, who shrugs in defeat. Gotta hit the guys where it hurts: food.

“All right, show us the moves,” Steve says.

Mia grins, a bounce in her step as she takes Eliza’s smaller hand and walks to the middle of the floor. “Okay, me and Liza will be partners. Just watch us.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows and looks between the two girls, one with now-messy twin red braids, and the other with a light brown cowgirl hat atop two curly pigtails.

“Wait, if you two are dancing together, who are Eddie and I dancing with?” he asks.

Eliza giggles. “Each other.”

“Nope,” Eddie replies. “No way.”

With an over dramatic sigh, you shrug your shoulders at your husband. “No dancing, no Samoas.”

“Damn those little coconut fuckers,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. “All right, big boy. But I get to be the guy.”

“Sure, we’ll play pretend,” Steve quips back. It’ll be a miracle if they both make it through the first dance alive.

Eliza and Mia begin to go through the motions, showing their fathers what to do. Everyone is laughing as they do-si-do and hook arms to swing each other around.

“Did I earn my cookies yet?” Eddie asks once the next song ends.

“That’s up to your daughter,” you tell him with a shrug.

Eddie looks at Eliza expectantly, the big puppy dog eyes that he passed down to her working their magic.

“Almost, Daddy. You gotta dance with me first.”

“Now that, I can do.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS

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oddlykilledghosts · 2 years

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Someone That Actually Likes Me - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Working at Family Video and constantly being a witness to Steve’s neverending flirting, reminds you of how much you want to be liked by someone and like them back. It just so happens, at the same time, Dustin is up for some meddling between two of his elder friends.

I may or may not be thinking of making a part two?? depending on how this goes?? who knows?? no it should have a part two

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairings: Eddie Munson x reader, FamilyVideo!reader

The day was starting to become boring. There didn’t really need to be three workers at Hawkin’s local Family Video (even on a Saturday), but you had come into work anyway and pulled yourself together enough for the first couple hours. You tried looking your best, fixing your hair and putting on some fun makeup, as well as applying some electric blue eyeliner and smiling at yourself in your mirror when you topped it off with bubblegum pink lip gloss. You might not have been the preppiest person, but you sure loved the colorful makeup the 80s had brought on the masses. Hopefully it was at least enough for your flirting to be successful in getting customers to rent more movies. Unfortunately however, one of the only customers that the store had had all morning was Dustin, looking for another copy of Neverending Story (something about his girlfriend, Suzie, that you didn’t bother asking about further) and he had not even bothered to ask about your day (something about a pressing D&D campaign that was happening that very night). The other, a girl Steve was chatting up about what you were pretty sure was Pretty in Pink, even though you had never so much heard him mention ever even seeing that movie before. You rolled your eyes at the sight of the two; Steve, leaning up against the wall his body tilted toward the girl, and the girl not even the slightest bit self-conscious in the way she placed her hand on Steve’s bicep and laughed at something you were sure wasn’t that funny.

You felt a shoulder brush yours, and suddenly Robin was at your side seemingly done with rewinding the old tapes. “You’re sulking.” She said plainly, but even without looking you could tell she had a smug smile on her face. You and Robin had become fast friends. Faster, because you both loved to make fun of Steve.

Sighing, you shrugged and said, “Maybe. Is it so wrong?” When Robin didn’t respond you resorted to turning your body away from the couple so that you could look at your friend and you found her giving you a disappointed look. Yet the smug smile hadn’t vanished. “What’s so bad about wanting someone to like me enough to pretend to like Pretty in Pink?” You definitely were sulking. Steve flirted with almost every girl that came into the store, it couldn’t possibly be that deep. But again, no one had quite been desperate enough to be an expert on a movie they’ve never seen for you. It had been awhile since you had felt seen by someone worthwhile. Flirting with customers felt hollow, however much it may have helped your job.

Robin laughed and headed towards the computer to report the intake of tapes she had just finished with, typing fast on the keyboard. “I think it’s wrong when you’re longing for someone to pick you up with a Steve Harrington move.” She paused, feigning thought and continued, “But maybe it isn’t wrong. Maybe it’s just sad.”

“That hurts Robin.” You pointed to your heart and faked a pout, “Right here.”

Steve and the girl, who you assumed was now going to rent Pretty in Pink as it was held in her perfectly manicured hands, were now making their way over to the register. This meant you and Robin had to make busy and not totally fail at watching the couple out of the corner of your eyes. The girl couldn’t stop giggling. You almost scowled, but held back your facial features. It wasn’t embarrassing for her, you couldn’t care less whether she giggled for the rest of her life just because of this small encounter with Steve, but it still felt maddening to listen to someone else be so happy when you just felt bleh. Finally, before leaving the girl wrote down her number on Steve’s hand. Which would only be unfortunate for the boy if he found another girl to flirt with later in the day. The good thing for him was that you were close to closing and he could go home, wash his hand and be able to start anew the next day. Woefully, you would be there to watch.

You watched painfully out of the corner of your eye as Steve skillfully aced what boring small talk came out of the girl’s mouth as he checked out her rental. Gag. When the girl finally left, Steve’s demeanor changed and he was back to his regular self. Still handsome and charming, just putting on less of a show.

Robin beat you to speaking first by saying quickly, in a hushed chuckle, “Y/N wants you to flirt with her.”

Steve’s gaze immediately fell onto you, cocking his head in what was obvious confusion. And yet a smile tugged at his lips, “Is that so?”

The heat in your cheeks burned furiously and while you knew Robin was joking, you felt the undeniable urge to duck your head under the counter and stay there until everyone left. “No. That is not what I said. I merely want to be flirted with. By someone,” You shoved past Steve and picked up a pile of tapes that needed to be reshelved, “That actually likes me.” This time you really did duck behind the shelves, putting back the tapes where they belonged, thankful for the cover and blissful in not seeing Steve’s reaction to what you had said.

Steve’s voice followed you into the racks of movies, “Who says I don’t like you?” You hadn’t realized he was now standing at the end of the aisle you were in and bumped into his chest on your way to exit, dropping the remainder of the tapes that had been in your arms. Sometimes, you wished you had Steve’s effortlessness he used while flirting. You would definitely run into people a lot less.

The two of you then simultaneously leaned down and began to pick up the movies when the bell to the door rang.

A new customer.

“Hello?” A new voice rang out. “Anybody here?” Apparently, Robin had been quick to hide in the back of the store and pretend to be busy while you and Steve worked with the small amount of foot traffic that made its way into the store. She often did this when she decided she deserved a break, and for all it was worth, she dealt with you and Steve almost every day so you’d say it was pretty well-earned. Footsteps sounded on the linoleum floors. “Helloooo?” This time the voice held onto the word in a singsong tune until it petered out softly into the store. The guy's voice sounded playful and amused as if this (aka a Family Video in Hawkins, Indiana) was all such fun.

Still busy with the tapes, Steve didn’t react to the newcomer and instead whispered a soft, “I got this.” to you before shooing you away in hopes that you would be able to deal with the customer. If the stranger to the store had been a murderer, you would’ve had to fend for yourself. Well, of course you had Robin but it was obvious you would die first in such close proximity. But clearly, when you stood up and found the long mess of wavy hair staring at you from the top of the shelf you were behind, that was not the case. He was smiling satisfyingly and his brown eyes gleamed from behind the rack of tapes when you popped up from the floor.

“Hello.” He said pleasantly.

As you walked out from behind the stack, the customer followed. And when you finally reached the other end closer to the register and the door, it gave you both the chance to view each other fully. Your eyes went immediately to his shirt, and it triggered some sense of deja vu that settled in the atmosphere. The devil logo sneered playfully back at you as you stared at the guy’s chest. Unlike your unwavering gaze on his torso, his eyes, unbeknownst to you, hadn’t left your face. “You must be Y/N. Didn’t think you could be prettier up close.” When you looked back up, he gave you a smile that reminded you of the Cheshire Cat. Playful, but somehow devious. A new feeling shook through your body, ending up in your cheeks which were now charmingly warm.

Your hands went instinctively to your face, where the new warmth was homed, in an act of sudden shyness and you smiled softly, “And you must be…?” Then you knew where the shirt had popped up in your memories. Of course. Dustin wore one just like it constantly. You looked further in your mind as Lucas and Mike also popped up in your head wearing it on certain school days. Days that always came with some obligation on their end. Then it struck you. D&D. Which meant that this was…

“Eddie.” He said with another overconfident smile. He didn’t hold his hand out to shake or anything, but was pleased when you kept your own grin. Of course you remembered him from school, even though his hair was a lot shorter in your recollections. He was your age too, although he still hadn’t graduated (unlike you and Steve who had done so the year before). Truly, you should have recognized him sooner. It wasn’t like Dustin constantly talked about him as if he were some mythical creature to be worshiped. That was totally not the case.

“Right,” You said sincerely as you shook your head and led him to the large counter in the center of the room. As if by magnets, your eyes kept trailing to his leather jacket. Had you ever noticed how attractive leather jackets were before? You’re sure you had, just not in such close observation. Quietly you chuckled to yourself as you continued, “I should’ve known too. The shirt says it all. Dustin’s a part of your campaign, right?”

Eddie’s performance of a smile shifted into more of a genuine beam as you got another thing right. The first was your unwavering smile, people’s expressions usually didn’t hold steady with him. Yet because he was still a little surprised you knew what a campaign was, he didn’t answer your question. People usually skipped over the D&D terms and just called it a club as it said so on the shirt, but it was nicer when people paid attention to the details. Especially about something most people in Hawkins considered so nerdy. Something people would usually turn their heads at when they found out it was led by a freak like him. You were trying, though it was obvious you didn’t know much on the subject. And that itself was different.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you as Steve, at long last, popped up, seemingly having finished picking up the remainder of the fallen tapes. He made a load of noise as he struggled to get up and his sneakers squeaked awkwardly on the floor. Then, as if to further his inopportune entrance, the boy looked suspiciously between the two of you, trying to send you a secret look that asked if you wanted him to take over as Eddie’s guide to Family Video. You didn’t miss the message Steve was trying ‘ever so subtly’ to send you, but you ignored it. Dustin’s opinion mattered some, and you wanted to learn a bit why he looked up to the boy in front of you so much. Eddie was definitely different from most of the crowd you rolled with (though you could see Robin losing her mind over a nice leather jacket) and in this case, different was refreshing.

Taking things into his own hands, Steve walked over to your side of the register and leaned against the counter slyly. You noticed, amusingly, a piece of hair had fallen in front of his eyes and he was trying not to jump up and fix it. “Did you need any help finding anything?” His head was directed at Eddie, but his eyes stayed on you.

“And here I thought, Y/N was being ever so helpful.” Eddie mocked Steve, an innocent look on his face. You thought back to high school…they didn’t have anything against each other, did they? Sure, there was that rivalry that Steve had fully concocted on his own because he was jealous that Dustin had another older boy to look up to. But other than that it seemed as if the boys had barely interacted. Then again, not everyone had gotten over “King Steve” as easily as you and Robin had. No one had seen just how nerdy and awkward (and sure, you could say endearing) as Steve Harrington really was on his off days of being a former high school douchebag.

“Well,” You said as you flattened the creases in your work pants. “I was about to be.” This time you turned your head to Steve who was now a breath away, “I don’t think that Eddie will want your expertise on Pretty In Pink anyway, Harrington. I’m sure Robin needs help in the back.”

Steve squinted at you while you saw Eddie hold back a small laugh. He, at least, thought your comment was amusing. “I don’t think-” And there were those brown, puppy dog eyes. Save them for the next girl, Harrington, you thought to yourself.

“No, I’m very sure that Robin needed help. It’s a mess back there.” You pushed Steve back out from the counter and towards the back room where Robin was most definitely not busy. “It’s one customer Steve, take your break.” With him sulking, you had to push him all the way into the back of the store, where you did happen to catch a glimpse of Robin watching Teen Wolf (just as Micheal J. Fox turned hairy) on one of the old TVs they kept back there.

When you got back to the register, Eddie had made himself a little more at home. He was leaning against the counter, albeit the opposite side from you, and was playing with some of the rings on his fingers. You tried not to stare at his hands and the intricacies of his jewelry, wondering quietly where he got them all. And yet he had not made a move towards any of the movies in the store. The best thing about Family Video was the browsing, in your opinion. Sure, you had limited choices. It was only one store. But being able to actually have the options in your hand, and sift through favorites and classics was one of the reasons you liked working there. It was a tangible way to like films. And still, Eddie had not moved from the spot you had left him. Usually, no matter how helpful you seemed to think you could be, the minute you stepped away customers went with their bad selves in the store. Most of them thought they knew more than you. Which was rarely true.

Eddie almost looked uninterested, and a little nervous. But it was such a stark contradiction to how you had just perceived him that you questioned your own perceptions of things and moved on.

“So,” You started looking at Eddie and placing your hands on the counter in front of you. “What are you looking for?”

“War Games.” Then, after a beat, “The one with the computer. Want to play a game?” He said in a robotic cadence, copying Joshua’s voice. You ignored the fact that in the actual movie, it says ‘shall we play a game?’.

“Yup, I know the one.” You mused. Truly, you had seen most of the movies the store offered. Keith, the manager, made it practically part of the job. ”With Matthew Broderick, right?” You motioned for the boy to follow as you began making your way to the section of the store that you knew the tape would be in. “I really enjoyed that one. Sure, it’s fiction, but it shows just how far technology can go.” You weren’t sure why you were rambling, but Eddie just followed nonchalantly behind you, his hands stuck in his pockets as if he were a little kid with sticky fingers.

When you reached the section you grabbed the tape and turned back around to be met inches away from the D&D player’s face, almost knocking heads. He backed away first, suddenly shy. Then when he spoke, he backed away another step as if one wasn’t enough. You didn’t notice, however, that as he talked his body subconsciously tilted towards you. If you had noticed, it would’ve reminded you a lot of how Steve and the girl from earlier looked. “It’s actually for Dustin, I owed him a favor.” Then with a more sarcastic spirit, “As if I don’t have things to do. Said he meant to get it and the only other time he could come back was during our session so…”

“As the leader, don’t you have minions for that? And isn’t Dustin one of them?” You laughed lightly, still waiting for Eddie to take the tape from your hands.

“Yeah but Dustin’s-” He didn’t mention how much he liked it that you knew, at least in some capacity, that he was the dungeon master.

“Special.” You finished, nodding with the secret knowledge you, and only a select few had of Dustin Henderson. “Yeah, I know. But wasn’t Dustin already here today? He could’ve picked it up then.” The tape remained in your hands as you talked, with no movement from Eddie indicating that he was going to take it any time soon.

Eddie’s dark eyebrows knit together, harboring a soft annoyance there, although it didn’t spread to the rest of his face. Then like a light turning on, so slowly, “I think Dustin is trying to set me up.”

You smiled, especially since you knew Dustin would scheme to do just that. He meddles too much. “In what way?”

Eddie’s voice was low this time, all of his former confidence gone, scrubbing the surface of a softer interior, “With…you.” If it had been winter, you could’ve sworn that you would’ve been able to see one clear breath exit your lips at his words; as if all the air in your lungs had decided to vacate at once. Yes, it made sense to you that Dustin would try to set up his friends. But it didn’t make sense why Eddie came to that singular conclusion so quickly. And yet, you’d heard so much of Eddie over the past two weeks. Had you really tuned out Dustin that much? That the constant compliments weren’t just brags? That they could’ve been for your benefit. They surely weren’t for Steve’s.

Then, as if in an instant, it all turned back on and Eddie straightened his back, “Well, this has been nice. But I actually have some unsavory activities to get to and I’m sure-”

Without thinking, you grabbed his arm stopping him from leaving the aisle of movies you were in. He protested for a second, stopping in his tracks, but turned back to you easily. Still guarded from the prying eyes of your coworkers as you stayed behind the stacks, you questioned the brunette, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

Eddie studied your eyes for hints of deception and insincerity, thinking that there must be at least some trace there for the simple fact that you hadn’t fun away yet. “Dustin, he’s a troublemaker. And here I am. In the making of his trouble.” Hints of Eddie’s mask were being put back up, and it looked as if he wanted to run out of the store.

“No,” You shook your head. “Go back. Why would Dustin set us up?”

“Right. Because ‘we’ wouldn’t make sense.” There was that wall again, still playful but defensive.

You felt your eyebrows knit, “No. It just-” This time you were the one searching his eyes. Again, there were your memories flooding back up. Just as clear as day you had graduated last year and there was Eddie, floating around in your mind. In his band. Late nights passing each other after respective basketball games and D&D sessions. In the cafeteria. And in every single one, you found those deep brown eyes staring back at you through your own mind. The reason Dustin was talking Eddie up was because Eddie liked you. And in those memories, no one else paid him any mind. But you had.

Had Eddie Munson talked about you to Dustin?

“Ask me out.” You said finally, letting go of his arm that you hadn’t realized you had still been holding. It had probably kept him from running initially, so no harm done.

Eddie laughed, suddenly taken aback, “What?” Then realizing you were serious, “I don’t think it counts if you tell me to do it.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

He thought for a moment, pretending to be vexed. “You realize if I ask you, we’re doing what Dustin wants.”

“Mm-hmm.” you hummed as a small response.

Eddie straightened again, this time with truer confidence, “Will you, Y/N…” He leaned forward, bowing a bit in front of you for show, which made you laugh, “Go out with me?” Then he perked up and placed his hands on his chest as if to protect himself from impending doom.

“Would you still want the movie if I said, yes? I have a quota.” You joked as you wagged the film in the air with your hand.

Eddie squinted at you, and yet a small smile tugged at his mouth and he staggered backwards. He struggled out the words as he held his chest where his heart would be, “I’m sensing that you’re saying yes.” Then he recovered slowly, his hands beating up and down where his chest would be and added, “My heart just grew three sizes.”

“Oh did it?” You smiled through a loud laugh as you put the tape back on the shelf. “I think you’ll still need a receipt though.”

Before Eddie could protest, you quickly walked back over to the register, leaned over the counter to grab a post-it and wrote your number speedily on the small piece of paper. Then, again, when you turned around to walk back you bumped into Eddie this time steading yourself by holding onto his arms. You had been walking faster than usual, with an excited energy around you, but was glad when you were able to touch him. Because yes, Y/N, he’s really there. Instead of feeling self-conscious, you stuck the post-it to the front of his shirt playfully. “There. Transaction done.” At the same time, you decided to ignore the two spying heads peeking out from the back room.

Eddie peeled it off his shirt gingerly and looked at it with a cocky grin, “You’re one of the good ones, Y/N.”

“Like it or not, so are you Eddie. At least,” You smirked at him. “From what I’ve heard.”

And then he and his leather jacket were gone. Not without him looking back at you as he left, for good measure.

You reminded yourself to hit Dustin over the head and thank him.

It took no longer than five seconds after the Munson boy had left for Robin and Steve to emerge from their hiding place. Usually, they wouldn’t have provided you any privacy during your interaction so you had to at least be somewhat thankful (even if you didn’t say it aloud). You sighed, turning around to face them, “What’d you hear?”

Robin, of course, exploded with energy the minute you invited her to talk, “Um, everything?” She immediately slid into the counter, leaning towards you and talking excitedly about how she wanted to help you get ready, even though she wasn’t sure she shared the same fashion sense as you. Really, she wasn’t sure she wanted to help with the fashion at all, but just wanted to be there before the date. Before you could remind her that technically there was no set date yet, she started prattling on about how you needed to prepare. Maybe Dustin could lend you a D&D book. She was sure she had at least one Metallica cassette somewhere. You were switching into a different social circle after all, you needed to know these things. You could tell Steve had filled her in on Eddie while they had been hiding together, though you knew she had been there on occasions as well when Dustin couldn’t shut up about him. This continued for a while, even after you assured her that you don’t need to change your whole personality to go out with Eddie. If you were lame and preppy then so be it. And then, to get his attention because the both of you had practically forgotten he was there, “Steve…?”

Steve, who had gone back to reshelving some of the videos that had been misplaced by Dustin earlier in the day and didn’t seem as interested in quelling Robin’s ramblings as he usually is, smiled sheepishly, “I think Y/N found someone to flirt with. Someone that actually likes her.” He just quoted you, back to you. Get your own lines, Harrington. And stop pretending to be a responsible worker.

“And he didn’t even need to pretend to like Pretty In Pink.” You said, raising your eyebrows smugly in Steve’s direction.

“Ha. Ha.”

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forever-rogue · 1 year

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Heyyyyyy!! First things first, I LOVE YOUR WORK.

I have a request!!

I was hoping you could write a a Joel Miller x Fem! Reader -

Joel and Y/N met in Jackson, and together now raise Ellie. What if one night Y/N is out with some girl friends at a community event or whatever and some guys begin to hit on her and make some inappropriate comments about her, and her relationship with Joel. After Joel finds out he finds the guys and teaches them a lesson about respecting a woman, especially his woman?

You can write this or spin off however you want to! I’d just love to see protective / feral Joel

AN | Okay, so men are the worst but never Joel. Have some Protective!Joel 🥰

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mild Violence (non-graphic knife use), undertones of SA (it doesn’t happen, but does get referenced)

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

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"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Joel was already laid up in bed, a book in his hands that he wasn't really reading, instead watching you closely. You were mesmerizing.

"I'm sure," he promised, snapping his book shut and getting up. You watched with a small smile as he came over and stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and meeting your gaze in the mirror. His eyes were on yours as he pressed kisses to your bare shoulder, "go on and have fun, baby."

"I'd have more fun with you there, my love," you gently prodded him but you knew that when he had his mind set on something he didn't often change it.

"I'm too old and tired," he teased as you playfully rolled your eyes, "I'll make it worthwhile when you get home."

"Now you're making me just want to stay home with you," you reached up and playfully ruffled his hair, "you always make it worth my while cowboy."

"You are going to go out and have a good time with your friends," he insisted softly with a kiss to the side of your head. You pouted playfully as he pulled away and sat back in the bed, "I'll be waiting right here for you when you get back."

"I'm holding you to that," you winked at him before grabbing your shoes, "you and Ellie have fun too."

"Kid's with Dina tonight," the two of you exchanged a sly grin. Ellie was not good in the slightest at hiding her affections for the other girl, "but I'll keep myself occupied."

"Stay out of trouble!"

"No promises," and with that he resumed his former position and grabbed his book again. At least you wouldn't have to worry about him tonight, "now go and have fun, baby."

"I love you," you grinned at him as he pretended not to hear you, "say it back, Miller!"

"I love you," he promised softly, "now go and quit stallin'!"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One of the best things about Jackson was that it was almost like life was normal. Well - it was normal, the normal that had become so over the course of almost twenty-one years. But there was still comfort in going out with a few friends, having a drink and not worrying about anything.

And, it would turn out, that evening you were mostly right. But also wrong.

Sitting around a table with your girlfriends felt so right, especially when you were gossiping about your current love lives. It wasn't so much gossiping as it was sharing stories, which was still a lot of fun.

"And then Billy said he wanted to try-"

"Hello there pretty ladies," and just like that your entire evening was ruined. The three of you immediately quieted and exchanged wary looks. The man in question was a scummy looking thing that radiated nothing but bad vibes. The friend he had in tow was no better and they were both smirking wickedly, "you look like you could use some company."

But you decided that you weren't having it. You sighed heavily, putting on a sticky sweet smile, "and you look like you can't read the room. Leave."

"Oh," he zoned in on you, stepping closer so he was leaning into you, his warm breath fanning over your face, "you're a feisty one. I like you."

"Well that makes one of us," you sighed dramatically, "you can go now."

"I don't think I will-"

"Listen," Maria spoke up and you'd never been more thankful for her, "you need to leave. Otherwise you'll be dealing with her husband and I don't think you want that. Or mine."

"Ahh," and then he had the audacity to touch you, putting his hand on your face and stroking your cheek, "cute. I'm sure this husband doesn't even exist. I could show you what a real man is like-"

"Go," Tania had had enough and shoved the man off you and stumbling backwards into the bar, "and don't ever show your face around here again."

"Fine," he held up his hands like he was the innocent party, "pathetic bitches."

But luckily they finally got the picture and left, leaving the three of you shaken, but alone. The interaction left a sour feeling in your stomach.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you left the bar it was late and dark but luckily it wasn't a long walk home. More importantly you couldn't wait to get back to the man that was waiting for you at home. A wistful sigh escaped your lips at the thought.

But as you walked your usual path home you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following you. That caused your heart to race and your mind to panic with worry, despite how calm you tried to keep yourself.

After a little bit you stopped dead in tracks and turned around, looking into the darkness. It was then that you saw the man from earlier. Of course he waited. You swallowed the lump in your throat, "what do you want?"

"Aww, little lady," he took that as an invitation to come closer, "I just want to spend some time with you. You know, get to know you a little better."

"I have a husband," you couldn't mask the disgust on your face or in your voice, "and you're a pathetic prick, so you can fuck off."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," he was in front of you now, hand on your upper arm and grabbing harshly, "come on, you know you want it-"

"Fuck off," you pulled his hand off your arm and twisted it, causing him to groan, "and fuck you."

You kneed him in the crouch and he stumbled backwards, yelling a slew of curses at you. He definitely hadn't expected you to fight back, but he was so very wrong. You took the opportunity and ran the rest of the way back home.

As soon as you got inside, you slammed the door shut behind you, making sure it was locked behind you. You leaned against and took a moment to catch your breath and relax.

"Hey baby," Joel was at the foot of the stairs looking at you with worry written all over his face. Fuck. You hadn't wanted him to see you like this, "what's wrong?"

"I-I'm fine-"

"Is that why you came runnin' in here and slammed the door?" He crossed his arms over his broad chest and raised an eyebrow, "baby-"

"I wanted to see you," you swallowed the lump in your throat; you hated lying to him, "couldn't get home to you soon enough."

"Mhmm," you could tell that he didn't quite believe you, but wasn't going to call out your bluff just yet, "you had a good time?"

"I did," and for the most part you really had. You walked over to him when leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, "but this will always best out everything."

"Come on," he took your hand in his and laced your fingers together before gently pulling you up the stairs, "I believe I made you a promise. And I don't like to break those."

"I'd hate for you to do that too," you agreed, with wide, eager eyes, "don't want to break your wife's heart, do you?"

"Never," he led you into the bedroom and shut the door, ushering back towards the bed. You easily complied, sitting down when the back of your knees hit the mattress. Joel had a wolfish look on his face as he drank in the sight of you, "you're so damn beautiful."

"Joel," your cheeks warmed up as crouched down in front of you, his hands settling on your hips. Before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you, softly at first but quickly with more hunger.

Your husband reached for the hem of your sweater and slowly pulled it off before tossing it to the side. As soon as you tried to reach for him, Joel froze and pulled back, a hard look settling on his features.

"What is this?" He tenderly held up your arm, frowning at the finger shaped bruises that were already blooming across your skin, "who?"

"Joel-"

"Who did this to you?" He was angry, but not at you. Never at you. Tears welled up immediately as you looked at him with a pathetic little expression, "baby…"

"There were two guys that came up while we were at the bar," a few tears rolled down your cheek but he gently wiped them away, "they were being gross and creepy, but eventually left us alone. W-when I was walking home one of them was waiting outside for me and he started to follow me. H-he grabbed me and tried to…"

Joel didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, pulling in for a tight hug, gently stroking your back, "I know, baby. It's okay - I've got you. Let it out."

"He grabbed me but I remembered what you taught me and was able to get away," you buried your face into his chest, "'m sorry."

"What are you sorry for, huh?" He let out a long breath before pressing gentle kisses to the side of your head, "you've got nothing to be sorry for."

"I just…" you pulled back and sighed lightly, "I got scared. But I'm glad you're here."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help," his hand was on your neck as he stroked your jaw, "but I know my girl can handle anything. Who was it?"

"I think his name is Adam," you shrugged lightly, "he's part of that new group. The one with the beard that always wears flannels."

Joel's jaw ticked as his eyes narrowed. He knew exactly who you were talking about, "Adam."

"Joel," you put your hand on his shoulders and gave it a light squeeze, "he's a jerk but please don't do anything rash. I can let it go…please tell me you'll do the same. I know it sucks but I don't think he's going to be doing anything to anyone anymore."

"I can let it go," he whispered, closing his eyes as he kissed your forehead, "I love you."

"I love you too, Joel."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So…Joel wasn't lying when he said he could let it go. Not technically. He could let it go.

But he sure as hell wasn't going to. Not for this. No one did this to his girl, his wife. Nor was this Adam going to ever do it again. He'd make sure of that.

The anger and rage was practically radiating off Joel as he walked to the main community building to report for patrol duty. He might have pulled a few strings to ensure that he'd be on duty with a certain someone…but it was worth it.

"Adam, right?" He put a fake smile as the younger man approached and nodded.

"Yep," he even sounded like an asshole, "you must be Miller."

"I am," he agreed and held out his hand, "Joel Miller."

"Nice to meet you-"

"You know what's funny," Joel's grip on his hand was like a vise, "you've already met my wife."

"Your wife?"

"Mhmm," he could see the man squinting as he tried to pull his hand away, "she told me all about it."

"O-oh," he was finally able to wrench his hand free, "what's her name?"

Joel almost hated even just telling him your name but he repeated it just loudly enough for him to hear. Adam nodded, clearly unsure of where this was going, “she was out the other night with some girlfriends. Another of which also happens to be my sister-in-law. She told me you were there with a friend. So.”

Adam’s face paled almost immediately as realization hit him. He knew exactly who you were, who Joel was, and that he knew what had happened.

“Listen, man - I think there was some sort of misunder-”

“Don’t,” Joel grabbed him by the color of his shirt and pulled him close, “don’t fuckin’ lie to me and say it was some sort of misunderstanding. My girl says you made them feel uncomfortable and that you followed her. I’m inclined to believe her - she has no reason to lie. Why would she lie?”

“She’s probably just-”

“I wouldn’t say another word if you know what’s good for you,” Joel’s voice was low and dangerous and he reached into his back pocket to pull out his knife. He held it up to his neck, just against the skin, not enough to break it but enough to provide a stern warning, “you should be glad it was my wife that you dealt with that night and not me. I would not have been so forgiving.”

“Please. I-I’m sorry-”

“Funny,” he smirked at the panicking man, “now you’re sorry. You weren’t so sorry the other night, were you? I saw the bruises on her arm. She asked me to let it go, you know. You’re lucky - after this, I will. But let me make this extremely clear - if I ever see or hear about pulling anything like this again….you won’t live to see another day. If I ever see you near my wife again, you will regret it.”

“Joel, I-”

“I am a killer,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “I ain’t killed anyone in a long time now, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it again. You understand me?”

“Y-yes,” he stammered nervously and Joel couldn’t help but dig the knife ever so slightly into his skin, causing a thin line of blood to bubble up.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, I understand,” and just like that, Joel pushed him away, causing him to stumble over his feet and fall to the ground. Joel offered up a saccharine smile as he wiped the blade clean and stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Good,” he said firmly, “now get out of my sight and don’t let me see you again.”

Adam was gone and out of sight before Joel could say anything else.

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“Joel Miller,” your hands were on your hips as you stood in the doorway to the kitchen as Joel walked inside the house. He looked at you with a sheepish expression; he was a smart man and he knew exactly what this was about, “what did I say?”

“You said to let it go,” he hung his head as he walked over to you.

“And you did exactly the opposite of what I asked, didn’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” he stated sheepishly. Before he could say anything else, he felt you throw your arms around him and hang onto him like a koala, “baby?”

“I can’t believe you did that for me,” you looked at him incredulously as he couldn’t help but smile at you, “did you really make him piss himself?”

“First of all, how did you hear about that?”

“Jenny who saw it all, who told Tommy, who told Maria, who told Ellie, who told me,” you grinned and he laughed.

“He didn’t quite piss himself but I got the point across,” you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him and you could feel him smiling against your lips, “you’re not mad?”

“I mean, I’m a little annoyed that you didn’t listen to me,” you sighed softly, “but also love the fact that you didn’t listen. You defended me.”

“I would do anything for you,” he took your jaw in his hand and turned your face up to his, “anything. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” you nodded, feeling warmth pool low in your belly, “I would do the same for you.”

“I know,” he kissed you with an intensity that you had practically melting into him, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you,” you made a small sound as he picked you up, “Joel!”

“Let me show you how much.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #pedro pascal #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us

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owen-writes · 4 months

Text

Stupidity

10th Doctor x Male Reader

"Well, Doc? What's the diagnosis?" you quip, wincing as the Doctor carefully examines the gash on your arm.

"Stupidity. It's chronic and terminal," he replies with a smirk, fetching the TARDIS's medkit. "Running away from aliens without looking where you're going? That's textbook."

You chuckle, "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, it's not every day you get to sprint through time and space."

"True enough," he concedes, his eyes dancing with amusement as he starts cleaning the wound. "But you have to admit, there are safer ways to get your heart racing."

You shoot him a teasing look, "Are you suggesting I find a hobby less adventurous than time-traveling with you, Doctor?"

He grins, his hands skillfully wrapping a bandage around your arm. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. Life's more fun with a bit of danger. Keeps the adrenaline flowing."

"Right, because nothing says 'fun' like narrowly escaping extraterrestrial threats," you remark, watching his focused expression as he tends to your injury.

"Ah, but it's the thrill of the unknown, the excitement of the unexpected that makes it all worthwhile," he replies, his fingers grazing your skin gently.

You raise an eyebrow, "Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you're essentially calling me reckless?"

The Doctor looks up, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe I am. But, you know, there's something undeniably attractive about someone who dives headfirst into the unknown."

You can't help but blush at his compliment, "Flattery won't make the pain go away, Doctor."

"Oh, but it might make you forget about it for a moment," he suggests, leaning in a bit closer. "And I must say, you do look rather dashing with a battle wound."

You playfully roll your eyes, "Is that your way of saying I look handsome even when injured?"

He grins, unabashedly flirting, "Well, I wouldn't want you to think I only find you charming when you're at your best. Besides, scars tell a story, and I do love a good story."

As he finishes up with the bandage, the Doctor gently pats your shoulder. "There, good as new. Now, how about we find somewhere a bit safer for our next adventure, hm?"

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. "Sounds like a plan, Doctor. Just try to keep the danger level to a minimum, if you can."

He gives you a mock-innocent look, "Me? Keep things safe? Where's the fun in that?"

And with a playful exchange of banter, you and the Doctor prepare for the next thrilling escapade through time and space.

#doctor who x male reader #doctor who x reader #doctor x male reader #doctor x reader #the doctor x male reader #the doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor x male reader #doctor who imagine #10th doctor #doctor who #david tennant x you #david tennant x reader #david tennant

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snapscube · 6 months

Note

So you mentioned the Amazing Spider-man movies, what are your thoughts on them? For me; I was pleasantly surprised by 1 AND 2. Like 2 is bad, real bad, but the jokes were legit, Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone are just...an amazing on screen couple and until the transformation Harry is a really fun villain....just sucks that most of the movie is exposition about peoples relationships to one another or experiments done mostly off screen.

TASM1 is perfectly serviceable as a standalone project and was definitely not the worst jumping off point, but it struggles to really properly understand Spider-Man/Peter as a personality. Peter absolutely doesn't have to be a goody two-shoes loser, all of the best adaptations of Peter imo can have some serious attitude and grit to their persona, but TASM1 kinda over-corrects on the Tobey Maguire "shy nerd" angle by making Spidey a bit too much of a dick. I remember the movie getting a lot of praise for finally making Spider-Man funny and quippy, praise I similarly gave at the time, but it really... doesn't do that nearly as much as ppl gave it credit for??? There's like ONE scene where Spider-Man is kinda jokey with someone he suspects to be Ben's killer, but that scene kinda stinks because he's not quipping as much as he's like actively cruel lmao. Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone had great chemistry though and you can tell Marc Webb knew his stuff when it came to directing that kind of romantic tension, seeing as how his previous project was 500 Days of Summer. All-in-all, it's a Fine movie but it's not a fantastic adaptation of the things I personally like about Spider-Man.

TASM2 is so much more intriguing to me to watch and to talk about. It's genuinely baffling how that movie ended up like it did, but in a way that almost anyone could have predicted. That movie STINKS. It's really really bad. But it also has kind of the opposite problem to TASM1 in that... TASM1 is a good movie that doesn't properly showcase the character of Spider-Man, whereas TASM2 is a garbage movie that features some of the best live action Spider-Man scenes/setpieces we had seen and would ever see to this day. It's sincerely tragic how many great INDIVIDUAL MOMENTS are in that movie, and how loosely connected they are by some monumentally stupid studio meddling. That movie has everything going in its favor with Andrew Garfield in the lead, the best live action Spider-Man suit to this day, the most thrilling and well rendered swinging sequences put to film, and the occasional glimpse of a true Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man that is down on the ground connecting with and watching over not just the city itself but the people within it. There's a montage in the middle of the movie that features Spider-Man on his daily patrol and he comes across as just so PRESENT and on the same level as the people he protects, meanwhile in the audio track you hear newscasters and interviews fiercely debating whether or not what he does is actually worthwhile. And that shit HITS. But unfortunately that kind of stuff is still too rare and it far overshadowed by Sony desperately trying to make a Spidey Cinematic Universe without earning it. Ultimately they had all of the pieces to make a truly definitive adaptation of Spidey that I feel like almost anyone could get behind, but they just... couldn't. Even Spider-Man PS4, commonly lauded as one of the most definitive Spidey stories of all time, uses SO MUCH of the same DNA of the Amazing Spider-Man films, but the difference is that it had the space to be only exactly what it needed to be. Nothing more, nothing less. Anyway I could talk more about this for sure but I'm looking at the length of this write-up and wincing already LOL.

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dduane · 8 months

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My wife and I have been watching episodes of DuckTales on Saturday mornings as a nostalgia trip (I used to rush home to watch it after school), and this morning I caught your name in the teleplay credit on an episode called "Dime Enough for Luck." It was a delightful episode, and it came with an LOTR reference (and my wife felt there was a Time Bandits reference, too, but wasn't sure). I had no idea you'd worked on an episode and I just wanted to say thank you for the fun morning!

You’re very welcome!

…And yeah, there were a lot of in-jokes in that episode: to say nothing of the Heinlein joke in the title. My story editor, the incredibly experienced and talented Jymn Magon, always had room for one more joke. Writing for the Mouse was inevitably going to present its challenges, but Jymn had the gift of making it all seem worthwhile.

Anyway, thanks for catching that credit! I’d been a big reader of all the Disney comics as a kid, and to get a chance to work in Duckburg was a real high point. 😄

#DuckTales

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multifandombitxh · 10 months

Text

Bed Time Stories

Pairing: Ghost x Fem!Reader (Ghost's POV, no use of y/n)

Genre: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers kinda

Warnings: Adult language, a really bad romance novel excerpt that I made up on the spot

A/N: I'm back for like five minutes don't get used to it 🤙 PS would love to write something for a male reader if that's something anyone wants, just sayin'

Ghost had no idea how long this had been going on without his knowledge. In a way, he was a little upset that no one told him about this, especially when Soap knows how he feels about the new recruit. He was completely drawn to her from day one, the moment she stepped foot on base looking like pure sunshine in dirty combat boots. He didn't even know her name before he knew he wanted her- her mind, her heart, her soul... Her body as well, but that was a different issue.

Ghost kept his sweet distance. He knew that the moment he let himself revel in her kindness, it would only make things worse. It was beyond frustrating; he hadn't felt like this toward anyone in- well, ever. He was used to finding people attractive every now and then, sure, but this? This was a whole new ball game for him- and he doesn't even know how to play the game.

He wanted to bring her flowers, watch sunsets with her, ask for her favorite color, her favorite food, favorite movies and books, to know everything she found beautiful or worthwhile in this world. His thoughts were worse at night when he was trying to sleep. What did she look like in the mornings? Does she drink coffee, or tea? How lovely would it be to wake every day with her head on his chest?

He wanted to hold her god damn hand for Christ's sake. What was she turning him into?

Regardless of his softness toward her, Ghost did everything in his power to stay the fuck away. He was mean to her. He was snippy when he didn't have to be, putting her in her place when he felt it necessary. The others would hound him about it; "Go easy on her, Lieutenant." "Why would you say that?" "Maybe you should ease up a bit." But no. Not a snowball's chance in hell would he "ease up" or "lay off".

If he did, he'd melt just at the sight of her smile.

As if he wasn't already doing just that.

Soap noticed it first, the way his Lieutenant's gaze softened as soon as it fell on her, how his shoulders relaxed and his fists unclenched. She was walking stress relief, her smile so perfect and crooked and full. Her warm, inviting eyes shimmered and lit up any time she looked Ghost's way. God forbid he make eye contact with her, it made him weak in the knees. As soon as Soap caught onto this, he tortured Ghost with it day in and day out.

Now, as he stands in the hallway outside of the barracks, his arms crossed and his jaw tight, he listens as she speaks in soft, pronounced sentences, reading from a sappy, cheesy romance novel. Soap was the first to ask her about it- of course he was, he's always looking for ammo to tease the rest of the team with- but she wasn't even slightly embarrassed to tell him she loved romantic literature. Soap asked her to read a few pages to him, thinking it would be hilarious, and so she obliged. Now, a week and some change later, Soap and Gaz sat around with her late into the evening, listening to her read the latest chapter in her silly little book to pass the time.

Ghost's heart ached in his chest as he listened to her, smiling as she occasionally stumbled over her words, lost her place, or changed her tone of voice when speaking for different characters. The sound of her soft laughter nearly brought him to tears when she got to the juicer parts of the story, describing the intimate lives of these fictional people in great detail. Soap and Gaz would laugh along with her, but never once teased her or made fun of her for enjoying herself. It made Ghost feel warm. It made him feel full in his chest.

Soon, he began to focus a little more on the actual story rather than how beautiful the words sounded coming from her lips.

"Meredith watched as the love of her life crossed the small yard, plucking dandelions from the tall grasses and placing them in his woven wicker basket. Her heart was about to burst straight out of her chest and onto the cold, wooden floor, watching him so delicately picking the flowers and setting them aside. His amber hair almost glowed under the golden afternoon sun- he looked angelic in this light. She sighed through her freckled nose, knowing she had found the truest, purest form of love, and never wanted to let it slip from her grasp."

Ghost listened intently as you read that paragraph, snorting to himself. Looks like he and Meredith had something in common.

"How many chapters was that?" Soap asks as she closes the book, placing a bookmark between the pages.

"Only four left," She says with a smile, "Almost to the end."

Ghost feels rotten on the inside as she says that, knowing he'd missed so much of this special little gathering made him feel deep regret for pushing her away. As if driven by this deep sense of remorse, he steps out from the hall, moving into the open doorway and leaning against the frame, his arms remaining crossed. He tries to look angry, intimidating- his usual. Soap and Gaz look up at him, a bit surprised to see him.

"Lt, how long you been there?" Soap asks, standing from his seat and dusting himself off.

"Not long," Ghost lies, shrugging slightly. He looks between Soap and Gaz, not daring to look her way just yet. "You two mind giving us a moment?"

Soap smirks and nods, exchanging knowing looks with Gaz. The two of them thank her for another evening of book club, their soft and sweet voices making Ghost roll his eyes and nearly gag. He watches as they leave, taking their sweet time and discussing the latest chapters. Ghost finally turns to her, doing his damnedest to keep his gaze hard. She can't know, she can't.

"Did you need something, sir?" She asks, her voice much more meek than when she spoke with the others. He takes note of this, wondering to himself if he's made her uncomfortable. She stands from the bunk she was lounging on, placing the book on top of the covers as she straightens out. Ghost forces himself to keep his eyes trained on her face, lest they wander.

"I do, actually," He replies, taking a step toward her. It doesn't take much- his stride is quite large considering his size- for him to stand before her, nearly towering over her like a skyscraper. She looks up at him expectantly, her hands behind her back as she maintains a neutral expression. He misses her smile already.

"You-" He starts, shifting his weight as he tries to find his words. "I think- listen. This... You can't... Do this. Anymore. Whatever it is, it stops here."

Her face drops from neutral to hurt, her brows drawing together as her eyes fill with confusion. "What?" She asks, shaking her head. "I... Can't read? Are you serious?"

Dammit. He did it again. Without even meaning to, he put another invisible wedge between them, when all he really wanted to do was pull her closer. His chest begins to ache, anxiety setting in as he realizes what he's done. But he can't seem to stop himself.

"You can read, Sergeant, just... Not to the others. They have duties," Ghost explains, sounding unsure of himself. She seems to catch on, because soon her face changes from hurt to anger. "I can't have you distracting my men like this."

"You're joking," She scoffs, shaking her head and folding her own arms over her chest. Ghost physically fights the urge to look down. "You can't be serious, Ghost."

"That's Lieutenant to you," He all but snaps, taking another intimidating step forward. Why was he doing this? Why was he like this? His mind races as he tries to stop himself, to put an end to this charade and tell her the truth, to show her even an ounce of kindness. Why was that so hard for him? "Mind yourself if you want to keep your place on this team."

A few seconds pass as there's a pause in the discussion, and she lowers her gaze, nodding a few times. "It won't happen again, Lieutenant," She manages, keeping her eyes to the floor. The tone of her voice sounds like she was just slapped in the face.

Fuck. He's really done it now.

How can he fix this?

"Good," Ghost says quickly, giving her a single nod before he turns his back to her and begins walking away. Every fiber of his being is fighting himself, his heart begging him to turn around and apologize, take her in his arms and make her feel the love he feels for her. Before he reaches the threshold of the doorway, he hears her small voice again, her words striking his heart like a frozen spear.

"What did I do to make you hate me so much..?"

He can't do this. Not anymore.

Not to her.

"Dammit..." Ghost whispers, closing his eyes as he stops in his tracks. He turns on his heel, his heart hammering in his chest so hard it hurts. "I don't... Hate you, Sergeant."

He watches her for a moment, noticing her defeated stance and the way she refuses to look his way, not that he blames her. It kills him inside to know that he caused this- that she's hurting because of his actions. All because he's afraid of letting her in. At this rate, he'll have to physically build a brick wall to keep himself away from her. He was done for.

"I don't understand," She whispers. Her voice wavers, sounding as though she's holding back tears. That nearly rips his heart out of his chest. "I have tried so hard to do my best and do what's right for the team. Everyone seems to have faith in me, except for you. I don't understand what I did wrong, Lieutenant, I don't-"

Without a second thought, he crosses the room to her, taking swift strides as he comes to stand in front of her again. Before she can even blink he holds her face in both of his hands, his palms covering her cheeks and his fingers resting on her jaw. Her eyes go wide, and he's pretty sure he hears her breath catch in her throat.

"I... Am so stupidly in love with you," He confesses in a voice barely above a whisper, the feeling of her soft skin against his calloused hands sending a shiver up his spine. He locks eyes with her, making sure to silently convey with them that he's telling the truth. "I want you... In every sense of the phrase. I want you in the worst way, and I can't... I can't have you."

As she stares up at him with a puzzled expression, his heart rate increases ten fold, the closeness of their bodies suddenly overwhelming his senses. He can smell her, her lovely scent on her clothes and skin. It's intoxicating. He wishes he could bottle it and keep it for himself on lonely nights.

"Ghost-"

"You are the embodiment of everything good in this world, and I... I- I would dirty you if I put my hands on you," He carries on, his thumb stroking her cheekbone so delicately it's almost ghosting over the flesh. His voice breaks as he speaks, as if he's about to lose his composure any moment. "I am trying to keep myself away from you, don't you understand? Everything about you is like a drug I'm hopelessly addicted to and haven't even tried. And I'll never be sorry enough for hurting you, but I'd be hurting you more if I let myself feel this way about you."

As he lays it all out for her, pouring his heart out in phrases that even he didn't think he could formulate, her eyes soften and begin to fill with tears. They glisten beautifully under the dim lights, glossy and lovely and inviting. His breathing becomes uneven at the sight of her, feeling himself fall harder and harder the longer he looks into them. When she leans into his touch and closes her eyes, he almost gasps, completely taken aback by the gesture.

"Maybe I'm not as clean as you think I am," She whispers, each word hitting him hard in the gut. As he tries to process what she means, her hands slip beneath the bottom of his balaclava, slowly but surely sliding it up until his mouth comes into view.

He doesn't even think about trying to stop her when she leans in and presses her perfect lips to his.

The kiss lasts for what feels like milliseconds, leaving him wanting more. So much more. As soon as her lips depart from his, he's wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and pulling her back in, his mouth crashing down on hers once again. The softest sighs escapes into the kiss, though neither of them are sure who started it. Heat builds almost immediately and suddenly Ghost has her in his arms, lifting her into the air with his hands on the backs of her thighs. He pushes her hard against the closest wall, drawing a shocked breath out of her.

Ghost's mind is gone, lost somewhere deep in the corners of his skull while his heart takes control, relishing in the soft sensation of her mouth against his. All bets are off now, and he doesn't care anymore. He wants her. He needs her. Like air, like water, like shelter. She is keeping him alive.

But she's killing him at the same time.

When they finally pull apart from one another, they breathe hard, the air between them hot and heavy. One of her hands holds up his balaclava while the other wraps around his broad shoulders, using them for some leverage as he holds her in the air against the cold wall.

"I'm sorry," She mumbles against his lips, closing her eyes. "I probably shouldn't have done that."

"Probably not," Ghost agrees with a grin, biting down on his lower lip briefly as he takes in the sight of her like this. Breathless, vulnerable. Beautiful. "But I'd expect nothing less from someone who reads those stupid novels."

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year

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I plan to write a story about heists, often from the point of view of the investigators' side, but I don't know where to start (or at least, my brain cannot make anything as interesting as I see in the media). Is there any advice on how I can plan it? Thank you very much!

Writing a Heist Story

A Worthwhile Score - The most important thing you need for a good heist story is a worthwhile score. What is the object/thing they're after and why is it important/valuable? How can everyone in the crew get a cut of this object/thing? What makes this thing valuable enough that it's so protected/hard to get in the first place?

Stakes - The second most important thing you have to establish is why the heist is taking place and why it matters. What does the heist crew stand to gain if they're successful, and/or what do they stand to lose if they're not? In Ocean's Eleven, Danny stood to win back his wife's affection while ruining the man who stole her from him. If he failed, not only did he not achieve either of those things, he also risked losing everything by going back to prison.

Sympathetic Motivation - If you want the reader to root for the heist crew, you need to make sure they have a sympathetic motivation--or at least one the reader wouldn't disapprove of. For example, in Ocean's Eleven, the heist motive is revenge against the guy who stole Danny's wife, so not the most sympathetic cause, but not a despicable one. And when we see that Benedict is a jerk who doesn't even treat Tess well, and that there's still something between Danny and Tess, we're able to root for him.

A Solid Crew - Another important element of good heist stories is a solid crew, meaning each member of the crew has to have a solid reason for being there. That means they need to play a vital role in the heist by providing a vital skill no one else can provide. They also need to have a believable motive for wanting to be part of the heist, especially if they're not being hired or rewarded with a large sum of money. And finally, it's nice to give each crew member a compelling personality, interesting characteristics, and unique relationships with other crew members.

A Complex Scheme - If your characters are trying to steal a piece of art from a museum, they can't roll up on the museum, break a window, knock out a guard, disable the alarm, obscure a camera, take the piece of art and off they go. That's too easy. Anyone could do that. There needs to be big, seemingly insurmountable obstacles that only the skills of the unique crew can overcome. Like, instead of breaking a window, one crew member's unique knowledge of the tunnels beneath the museum could get them in--but only if they can avoid detection from the night crews who work in the tunnels. And instead of knocking out a guard, there are several guards, and only the super stealthy wraith-like martial arts expert can do it without being caught.

A Backup Scheme - The one thing that's true about complex schemes is they almost always go awry. That said, you need to figure out what goes wrong, why, how it affects the original scheme, and how they re-route in the moment to get things back on track. Really good heist masterminds will have a Plan B and Plan C, but even these won't be without their kinks. All of these unforeseen pitfalls, unexpected obstacles, and potential failures keep the tension high and make things interesting. Watching the crew deal with things when they go off track is part of the fun of heist stories.

I hope that helps! ♥ •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #wqaadvice

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onadarklingplain · 8 months

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sincere / blues for SKI AU if you want?? or maxiel generally??

i love youuu and the way you know i'm always ready to write more ski au ⛷️ They took blues down to the parking lot, but Max still felt tired to his bones, legs shaky-tired in a way that was embarrassing but felt kind of good. It was satisfying, gritting his teeth and pushing through it. It meant that it had been something worthwhile.

Max was fastest and could’ve skied at the front, but it was nice, for once, to hang back at the back of the group and let the others go ahead. Blake had stopped filming, and Max thought that Daniel was having more fun. He kept crisscrossing across the trail to hit the tiny jumps that lined the edge, overselling the small amount of air he got to make Scotty laugh. It got more and more ridiculous until he caught an edge and fell, still grinning all covered in snow, like he didn’t care. It made Max laugh too, until he was almost doubled over on his skis and he had to stop.

When they got to the bottom, Daniel pulled off his helmet, and Max thought about trying not to stare at the way his curls were crushed down onto his head, at the lines his goggles had left on his cheeks, at the bright, kindness of his eyes, hidden away all day, but he knew he’d never be able to manage it.

It was so distracting that it took Max a second to realise that Daniel was talking to him.

“Fancy a beer? Can you skive off a bit longer?"

Max hadn’t thought that Daniel would want to hang out with him, if they weren’t skiing or working out, but he sounded sincere. Like he he actually wanted Max to come.

Max must have taken too long to answer, because Daniel added a second later, “Come on, Maxy, I’ve got my van in the parking lot."

Max was nodding before he had even decided to say yes.

Daniel’s van, it turned out, was parked at the far side of the lot, alone in a little clearing of packed-down snow. It was a cool van. Max stood in his ski boots as Daniel pulled out a camping chair for him and peered through the open doors into the back. It was the kind of van you could live in, with a messy bed and a little kitchenette. It made him think of Daniel out on the road, singing along to the radio probably, on his way somewhere exciting and wild and remote, everything he needed right there.

The end of the day sun was spilling dark, cool shadows everywhere, but golden slivers of light were cutting through, and sitting in the sun, it was warm enough for Max to unzip his jacket. When Lance and Scotty and Chloe and Blake brought over their own chairs, they all circled around a cooler that Daniel had put in the middle. It was a routine, clearly, something they did a lot.

Max took a beer when Daniel offered it, even though he didn’t normally drink much, and laughed in the right places when Scotty told a story about a crash Lance had the week before.

“The day was a total huck-fest, absolute nectar,” Scotty was saying. “But then Lance went massive, clipped a tip and just fucking clapped it face first into the snow."

To punctuate his point, Scotty flailed forward, arms windmilling through the air in imitation, and Max watched Daniel’s face as he laughed, still greedy for it even though he had gotten it all day. When he turned to pass Max another beer, the ghost of the smile was still on his face, and Max felt drunk just from that, and bottomless. Like he would never be able to get enough.

#getting drunk in your ski boots for the first time... a bad idea and a rite of passage #ski au #tumblr fic #that will hopefully someday grow up to be a real fic #maxiel #f1 rpf #mv33 #dr3

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fefeman · 27 days

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Oban Star Racers review

Yesterday I decided to watch Oban Star Racers, since it was a series I slept on when I was a kid and I heard a lot of good for it. So I binged the 26 episodes yesterday and today.

Overall verdict: FUCKING DOPE. 9/10

Very good series overall. It has a pretty unique art style (most notable on the humanoid characters) but it makes it work and uses it well to have pretty dynamic and expressive characters and gorgeous environments. And it's a very neatly written story, that finds the right balance between a sport fiction (racing), the overarching space opera/space fantasy narrative, and the interpersonal drama.

And the OP is pretty good and sells the color.

youtube

The plot :

(two ships preparing for the preliminary of the Oban Star Race)

In the future, humanity is set to participate in a racing competition between civilizations of the galaxy, where the winner will receive the "ultimate prize" from a sort of "god" of the galaxy. Eva, a young girl who wishes to be recognized by her father (both literally and figuratively), gets involved in this race when said father becomes the manager of the earth team... And it soon turns out the competition has way higher stakes than everyone believed.

The plot reminded me bit of Red Lines, albeit with far looser vehicle rules than it (one competitor rides a giant beetle... ONE COMPETITOR JUST FLY HIMSELF), although I don't think a more in-depth comparison is worthwhile. Ultimately they provide different experiences despite the similarities.

A more in-depth rating would be :

Story:

very well written with good dialogue. None of the 3 main storylines (racing, drama, mystery) feel underdeveloped compared to the other, and they all manage to fit right into place as the plot progresses. The only downside is some plot points could have been introduced earlier and in more detail, but this only concerns a few.

9/10

Characters:

The characters are colorful and interesting. The secondary cast have a lot of personality, with unique ship design that sometime really push the definition of "racing ship".

(one of the secondary cat... I mean cast, Para-dice)

And the recurring cast isn't left behind. They are complex and nuanced, flawed people who sometimes make bad decisions, but always act in an understandable way. Sometimes their reasoning is more implied than explained, but it's not easy to miss it.

(The short guy with black and white hair is Don Wei, the protagonist's father. The tall dude with his tits out and sunglasses is Rick Thunderbolt, a pilot for the earth team)

The only issues are that one character is developed and leaves the story way too quickly and that some are a bit too simple/one not. But it's a minority and it's probably to balance give more time to the interpersonal drama.

8/10

Art :

The art style surprises a bit, but you get used to it quickly. It makes for expressive characters, and it's stylization make the humans not feel boring compared to the many aliens.

(you may have noticed they don't have noses)

There's also some clever use of 3D here and there, but it's well integrated so it doesn't feel too jarring. And the environment are fun to look at.

(This isn't what you expect to see when you're told you're going for an interplanetary racing competition. But I really like this planet, Alwas)

8/10

Music:

The music is good guys. I put the OP above, but the ost is also great, both for actions and non-action scenes. I really like the preliminary planet's theme... it really sells the confusion of humans reaching a new world they've never seen before with a pre-fire spacefaring civilization (that uses caterpillar-powered engines).

youtube

And Prince Aikka's theme is also cool.

youtube

Anyway, for the music, I was gonna give it a 8/10, but now that I listened to them again for this review, I realize they do carry a lot of making this experience pleasant. So

9/10

Worldbuilding:

That's a very important factor if you make Sci-fan, so I thought it was good to make it a category. Oban's setting succeed in the two key point I look for in a fictional universe: It makes its own sauce, and it looks alive.

Not everything in the setting is unique, but it offers some fresh concepts or visual identity make the inspiration turn. Like, I really enjoyed Ceres' ship being an amalgam of tubes that shouldn't fly, and that he rode standing on it rather than in a cockpit.

or spirit weird anatomy that looks like an unraveled humanoid

Or hell, Oban (the planet) itself functions in a way I haven't seen yet in sci-fi. that's what I mean by "make its own sauce". I can look at some elements of it and say "Wow, you don't see that every day" and get a rush of inspiration from the new flavor.

As for the "looks alive" part, by that I meant that the series gives the impression if I put the camera away from the main plot, there still would be interesting things to see. We know a lot is going on offscreen. We only see one of the 3 preliminaries... that's a lot of teams we haven't met... And even with the one we met, there's political intrigue in their homeworld, tragedies they wish to repair, etc... It's a universe where you feel you could always find something new to look at.

10/10

So, once again

OVERALL RATING: 9/10

#oban star racers #anime review #french animation #japanese animation #it's a collaboration #science fiction #Youtube

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femmefatalevibe · 2 years

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Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master Public Speaking Anxiety & Communicate Like A Boss

Take It Slow: The key to seeming secure and displaying confidence when you speak is to slow down your speech. Anxiety makes your mind run a mile a minute and often translates into rushed, jumbled speech and an overall frazzled demeanor. Your mind and your speech often match up in terms of pace. So, when you’re making a conscious effort to stretch out your words and conversational cadence, you naturally have to slow down your thoughts and calm your mind, which helps you think more clearly and comes off as more engaging to your audience. You come off as more self-assured and, by taking your time, you’re subconsciously informing your audience that you're sharing something worthwhile. You know there’s no reason to rush when you have something valuable to say.

Prepare Like You’re Writing An Essay: As someone who struggled with public speaking in my teens, I found that preparing my points like an essay outline was super helpful to organize my thoughts in a concise/logical way. In practice, the best way I’ve found to do this is to write my “thesis” or general argument/ takeaway down first and then create a list of all of the supporting details/facts/stories that I want to use to support this overarching point as they come to me. This is your “rough draft” for your speech. After, organize your points to create a logical flow that’s easy and engaging to follow. Study this before your public speaking arrangement – whether it’s a presentation for work/school or a speech at a conference or a dinner party. Knowing that you already know and have nearly everything you want to say outlined and prepared ahead of time allows the words to flow more easily if you get a bit nervous (don’t we all?). Combine it with the tip to take it slow, and watch your public speaking skills drastically improve.

Create An Elevator Pitch: You can complete this exercise for professional, academic, or social purposes (e.g. a birthday, cocktail, or dinner party). Essentially, this practice is similar to the ‘essay’ format above, but in short form. Think of it as a mini "personal essay" if you will. While most of the components of this short monologue are highly versatile, how you craft your elevator pitch will depend on its use purpose. For every context, start with your name and share that you’re excited to be there. When it comes to professional settings, you can share your job title, industry, and why attending this event fits what excites you most about your job/career goals. You can use this same format for academic situations, just swap out the classes you’re taking/your major and how being in this room connects to your academic/career goals. In a social setting, share how you know the host (and sometimes others attending) and have a few “fun facts” about yourself ready to use depending on who you’re speaking to – they could be about what you do for work, your favorite hobbies/leisure activity, the last trip you took or book you read, or some knowledge about something related to the venue (the knowledge of a historic building if you’re attending a wedding or dinner party, for example). Being prepared is the easiest way to calm your mind, so you don’t have to worry about your words, and allows you to just worry about how you’re communicating what you’re trying to say.

Demeanor Is Everything: At the end of the day, people care less about what you say and more about how you make them feel. So, remember to hold yourself in a confident, relaxed way - even if you’re worried about fumbling over your words at times or not always saying the perfect thing in a speech or as a response in a conversation (as long it’s appropriate, of course). Roll your shoulders back. Smile. Maintain good posture and eye contact. This physicality will make you subconsciously feel more confident, so your speech comes out more calmly and intelligently.

When in doubt, smile and remember to take deep breaths. Everyone is thinking about how they’re presenting themselves, so just try your best to feel confident. This makes you appear more open and allows the other person (or people) to feel more comfortable.

If needed, here are some more tips on how to manage social anxiety, build self-esteem, and a playbook on how to always communicate with confident Femme Fatale energy.

You got this! x

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theladyofdeath · 9 months

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Lady Death's Lover {VI}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Oh my word...I have had the most difficult time getting this up this week! I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, likes, and reblogs! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Cassian,

I must admit that I am completely miserable in Adriata. It has rained all week so I cannot go to the ocean, which is the only thing worthwhile to do here. I have also found zero romantic partners which has brought the boredom to a new level of heinousness. I do not think I can stand this place for more than a fortnight. By the Cauldron, I do not think I can stand it for another day. Perhaps I will cut my trip short.

Do have enough diabolical fun for the both of us in my absence, will you? If I know you are causing chaos, that is enough for me for now.

Your Favorite,

Mor

P.S. Try not to attempt to philander with any more married women. It’s very ungentleman-like.

Nesta

My gowns are lovely.

The modiste has truly outdone herself. There are four in total and each matches the other but has its own personality. The fabrics are all deep blues and grays, meant to bring out my eyes. They are the colors I am most comfortable in. In fact, most of my wardrobe consists of blues and grays but no one has complained about it thus far.

After transferring payment, my gowns are loaded into my carriage. Before making my way back home, I take advantage of the time alone and make my way down the street to my favorite bakery. I’ve never been one for sweets but they make the best macarons in Velaris and I cannot help but buy a box whenever I visit the modiste.

It is when I’m coming out of this bakery that I see him.

For a moment, I forget how to walk. Every elegant thought vanishes from my mind and I am suddenly all too aware of the giant box of sweets in my hands.

I pray he doesn’t see me and for a moment I feel I will get away with it, but then he turns from where he walks across the street and halts when he catches my eye. For a moment, we both stand there, staring at one another.

Then the world around me comes back to life.

The city streets around me resume, full of life. Carriages hurry past and people rush in and out of the shops. The sky above, recently clear and bright, opens up and the softest of rains falls down upon me and my macarons.

He still stands just across the street, watching me, although his head has since cocked to the side and a grin has begun spreading across his lips. A sudden sense of embarrassment floods me. I must look foolish, standing here in the rain with a box of baked goods while everyone around me starts to run to safety from the turn in weather.

Oh, gods.

He’s coming towards me.

“Lady Nesta,” he begins when he’s halfway across the street, “your dress. You should find cover.”

I find my voice. “Ah, Mr. Nazari. Yes, I, um…yes.”

I go to turn on my heels but, in true Lord Cassian fashion, he steps in front of me just before I can get far. “A lady should never be caught in the rain.”

“If it were not for you blocking me I would be well on my way to shelter, my lord.” I try not to sound too demeaning, but I cannot help myself. Every now and then that tone just seeps out and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

He finds this funny, apparently. A chuckle escapes him and he nods. “Apologies. Good day, Lady Nesta.”

Not Lady Mandray.

Lady Nesta.

I somehow like it better coming from him, like it better than the title the rest of the ton refers to me as.

Lord Cassian steps aside and I go to stroll past him, but I stop when he begins to walk behind me. Turning, I lift a brow.

He stops and rocks back on his heels. “Do not fear, I am not following you. I walked here and now must walk home, which is this direction. That is all.”

“How far do you have to walk?” I ask, the rain picking up. I worry more for the well-being of my macarons than my hair.

“A little more than a mile, it’s no worry,” he says, shrugging, then continues on his way.

I hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t ask what I’m about to but asking it anyway.

“Would you care to join me?” I ask, and he freezes, his back to me. “It seems we’re going the same direction and you should not have to walk in the rain. It seems a storm is brewing. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold.”

Lord Cassian looks up at the dark clouds, the rain falling directly onto his face as he squints. He looks back to me, his face searching mine, but then he asks, “Are you certain? I don’t mind a little rain.”

Thunder rolls and lightning strikes, and I nearly drop my macarons. I swear it’s purely for my benefit when he clears his throat and says, “It would be a pleasure to join you, Lady Nesta.”

I nod quickly as a downpour begins and hurry to my coach up the street. By the time I throw myself inside, my dress is drenched and my hat is drooping. Lord Cassian is in no better condition as he slides onto the bench across from me, his jacket drenched and his trousers sticking to his thighs.

My breath catches at the sight of him and I suddenly feel foolish. It should be impossible for a man to look more dashing sopping wet, but he somehow manages to. That ridiculous, shoulder-length hair of his is soaked and dripping into his cravat. I don’t realize I’m staring until I meet his eyes, and suddenly I’m all too aware of every inch of my body and his. My cheeks turn pink and I have to clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking.

The carriage jolts as it begins its journey and it makes me jump, which makes Lord Cassian grin…although he tries to suppress it. This was a mistake. That’s what I get for trying to be nice. This very thing reminds me why I do not do nice things often. Nice things always come back to bite me in the ass.

. . . . . . . . .

Cassian

Lady Nesta looks equally stunning and uncomfortable, although her discomfort is not the type of discomfort that causes alarm. No, it’s the type of discomfort that tells me she does not do this often.

I do not know much about this woman but I do know that she’s not exactly…personable. I’ve heard what other women of the ton think about Nesta — Mor brought the gossip to our recent Monday tea time and I have a feeling Rhys put her up to it — and it’s not good. In fact, the ladies of Velaris think Lady Nesta to be brutally honest and permanently bitter. I, however, value honesty and think a certain level of self-hatred and introverted nature can be mistaken for anger or bitterness.

Not that it should matter.

After my last encounter with Nesta, I vowed never to be around her again. Especially alone. Yet, the second I saw her stepping out of the bakery with a box-full of what seems to be macarons, my feet decided my thoughts should be damned and acted of their own volition. Before I could fully comprehend what I was doing, I was standing in front of her.

Now, I’m alone with her yet again, stuck in a coach as it rattles down the cobblestone. Outside, it’s pouring as it often does in the spring, and all I can think about is how her eyes keep drifting to me.

I’m trying to also be inconspicuous about where my eyes are wandering, but from the way her pale cheeks are turning pink, I don’t think I’m doing it properly.

Her light blue dress is clinging to her skin and I can’t ignore how her breasts are even further on display behind the soaked fabric. It doesn’t help that her chest is rising and falling, rapidly, as if she’s had a difficult time catching her breath since entering the confined space that surrounds us.

“You’re having a ball soon,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say but I know that we can’t keep sitting here in silence, me trying my best to avoid the swells of her breasts, the way I can see her peaked nipples through the wet cotton.

“I am,” she says, voice soft but firm. “Will you be in attendance?”

I clear my throat. “Yes. Thank you for the invite.”

I neglect to mention that I originally did not plan to attend, that being in the same room as her is too tempting and I’m currently going mad, but my brothers coaxed me into going.

She gives me a curt nod before taking a deep breath and letting her eyes wander towards the closed window. I swallow, cursing as my eyes take another dive to her chest and back up again. Once the silence becomes too heavy, allowing my thoughts to run rampant and inappropriately wild, I ask, “Do you do this often?”

Nesta’s eyes snap to mine and she blinks. “Do what?”

“Come into town on your own,” I say, and I watch as she swallows and clenches her jaw. “Not even a maid with you? Isn’t that unbecoming?”

Her eyes narrow and if it wasn’t for the quick rise and fall of her chest, the way her skin is flushed, I would think she was offended and not something else entirely. “Are you implying that I do not live my life as a lady should, my lord?”

“I’m implying that it is simply not safe for you to be traveling alone,” I say, and she watches as I run my hands down my thighs, trying to eliminate my sweaty palms. It does not work. “You never know others’ intentions when they see a woman alone.”

“It is the middle of the day,” she says, meeting my eye once more. “And I have my driver.”

“Still.”

We stare at one another for just a moment, but that moment is filled with so much silent, skin burning tension that I feel the need to loosen my cravat, shrug off my coat, but I don’t. I let it suffocate me, let her gaze strip me bare instead.

If I slouched in the slightest, my knees would nearly graze hers. Suddenly the space between us seems so short, too short to make any rational decisions. This was a mistake. I should have stayed on my own damn side of the street. I should have walked.

“Is that what this is, then?” she asks, and I blink.

“Pardon?”

“Do you have poor intentions, my lord?” she asked, clasping her hands on her lap. I swear they’re trembling.

“Need I remind you that you were the one that offered me a ride in your coach?” I ask, then add, “my lady.”

Her lips part, and it’s so slight that one has to be watching them intently to have seen it, which I am.

She shifts on the bench, words seeming to have left her. It’s the silence that makes me say, only because I cannot stand silence and I’ve already seemed to have dug myself into a hole of wickedness, “Perhaps it is you that has poor intentions.”

Her head leans to the side, which is somehow unladylike and beautifully cunning at the same time, and the smallest of smiles plays on her lips. There’s no joy in this smile, only a cruel seduction that has my trousers holding back my hardening cock. Now it’s my turn to shift, and she notes it, those dark eyes trailing down until they’ve settled on my lap. Her eyes flare before snapping back up to mine.

“I am a lady,” she says, simply. “Ladies do not have poor intentions, only charitable ones. What kind of lady would I be if I were to let a gentleman walk through a downpour?”

“Indeed,” I say, and I cannot even help how rough my voice suddenly sounds.

This is ridiculous. I feel like I have never been around a woman before, or like I am once again sixteen and around a woman for the very first time. Furthermore, she’s married. This is highly inappropriate, but I seem to have lost control.

No.

That’s not entirely true.

If I had lost control her dress would be torn to shreds and I’d have her lying beneath me on this bench, worshiping every inch of her body beneath.

“I am grateful,” I add, and she nods her head politely in response. I stay in control until a wheel hits a dip in the road and our bodies jostle, and we touch.

My knee hits hers and her foot lands on mine as she tries to stop herself from toppling forward. I don’t even realize my hand is on her leg, just above her knee, until we both look down at it.

I don’t move it.

She doesn’t ask me to, nor does she move at all. All that moves is the rapid rising and falling of her chest — a chest that my eyes are in perfect line with. Mustering every ounce of self control that I have, I go to lean back, to settle myself once again on the opposite bench until this torturous ride is over, but I don’t make it far.

Just as I move, Nesta places her hand on top of mine and I freeze. She’s looking at me wildly, searching my eyes for something. I don’t think I’m breathing at all. I have no thoughts in my mind whatsoever. All I can focus on is her intent eyes, her hand on mine, my hand on her skirts, her lips that are parted and begging to be kissed.

Neither of us says a word.

“Just—“

Whatever she’s about to say evaporates as the coach slows and when it jerks to a stop, reality steps back in.

Nesta snatches her hand from mine as if she’s been burned and I take the hint, pulling myself back just as the door opens and I’m looking at the front door of my townhouse.

Not wanting to keep the poor lad standing in the storm, I take my leave and hurry to my front door, drenching myself further. I don’t look back at Nesta. I have a feeling she doesn’t want me to.

I have a feeling that whatever she was about to say, whatever would have happened if we just kept driving, would have surely led to utter regret.

Before I shut my door behind me, I watch Nesta’s carriage roll away, gone into the storm.

Calling for my butler, I beg for a drink to calm my still pounding heart.

#nessian #regency au #19th century au #period au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction

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racinginchid3nt · 9 months

Text

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part One

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: none yet. so far it’s just build up

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

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While you weren’t a newbie to watching the races, you’d never done so in person. Work kept you busy and the idea of wasting precious vacation days on a flight to sit in the rain instead of on your couch wasn’t your idea of enjoyment.

Your friend had been dating Pierre for a few months now. Having spent the past week fighting, she forced you to take a weekend off and fly to Belgium with her for the race at Spa. He had surprised her with an extra plane ticket and paddock pass as an apology.

As you had packed the night before, Y/N Best Friend had appeared at your doorstep, arms full of garment bags. As soon as she saw the comfortable, weather appropriate outfits you’d selected, she started ripping through your suitcase and adding in her own picks.

“We’re going to be in the paddock, not the grandstands. We have to look the part Y/N” She’d said.

“Besides, there’s plenty of eye candy and you’re single. Might as well make the trip worthwhile. You know our shared hotel room will basically be yours the entire trip.”

“Honestly Y/N Best Friend, I’m not sure that’s the best idea. I’ve heard enough horror stories about most of the guys to make it clear that I should steer clear.”

“You don’t have to marry him Y/N! I just think it would be more fun if you joined me on these trips more. A girl can dream. Besides, it doesn’t have to be a driver. Some of the mechanics are definitely worth a second look.”

“Screw it. Pack what you want but don’t take anything I packed out” You admitted with defeat. Maybe she had a point. A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone, and how much damage could one weekend do.

The journey to the airport in the hired car was relaxing. And when you boarded into first class and champagne was waiting at your seats, it was a welcome surprise.

The flight from Barcelona has lasted only a few hours and before you knew it you were gathering your purse and carry on to disembark. It was only Wednesday so you were able to relax as you got to the hotel. The suite was beautiful and Pierre had sent flowers to greet his girlfriend. As you unpacked, the two of you began to plan the weekend’s festivities.

Thursday would be filled with media day around the paddock, followed by Friday free practice and qualifying, then Saturday sprint. The race on Sunday would wrap everything up.

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Thursday

Media day started early. The time adjustment was rough but the calm arrival day helped. You were going with Y/N Best Friend and Pierre to the track. He had interviews and Alpine press responsibilities. The two of you would spend the day in hospitality.

Your paddock pass hung around your neck. A tag on a lanyard with your name and face. The drive in was crazy, with fans already lining up to see the drivers. Your best friend waved you ahead so she could help fans get their autographs and you entered security alone.

Seeing the track in person felt surreal. Larger than life, it started to set in that you were actually standing at Spa. You knew the Alpine hospitality would be further down the track. As you started your walk you were amazed by how many journalists were in attendance. As someone with a large camera and a boom mic began filming you, you were thankful you’d taken your friends advice and dressed the part. A simple dress and nice sneakers kept you both presentable and comfortable. You smiled at the camera crew, spotting the netflix logo on their badges, knowing as soon as they discovered your lack of celebrity they’d cut your clips from the show.

You arrived at hospitality, showing your pass at the doors, before sitting down in a small seating area to kill time until Pierre’s media interviews. As the time began to tick closer and closer to round one interview starts, you became nervous that you still hadn’t see Y/N best friend or Pierre.

You tossed your trash and began the walk to the tent. Glancing at your phone trying to decipher what Y/N Best Friend meant by her directions, you decided to head towards the back of hospitality. As you reached the end however, you couldn’t find anything that looked like a media tent. The interviews would be packed and there was no way the space could be small.

You began looking around trying to find someone who could point you in the right direction. The first person you spotted breezed past you, not even acknowledging your question. The second was speaking in what sounded like Italian and had looked at you in confusing, not understanding you. Resigned to wander on your own you picked up your pace and began jogging around the area, peaking your head around corners to see if media was set off to the side.

As you turned sharply after another dead end, you felt yourself bump into someone. Looking up you saw a head of brown hair reaching down to collect their empty cup. Apologizing profusely you reached into your bag to pull out tissues. It wasn’t until you began trying to pat dry the wet spot on the man’s shirt that he actually said anything.

“Fuck sorry. I’m in a rush I didn’t mean to bump you. Are you okay?” He said. The voice sounded familiar but your embarrassment kept your eyes down while you tried to clean the mess.

“Yeah. It was my fault. I’m so sorry about the spill. I’m in a rush too. Could you point me in the direction of the media tent? I’m supposed to be watching the interviews.”

“That’s where I’m going. Just follow me. They won’t let you in if you’re late.”

You looked up for the first time at the Aston Martin driver, realizing why the voice was so familiar.

“Yeah that’s what I was told. Lead the way!”

You followed behind the driver for a few minutes. Flashing your pass to security to enter into the back with just minutes to spare.

He continued on, making his way up to the stage. As he took his seat he began scanning the crowd, trying to determine which media was where and looking for his PR agent. As his gaze made it over to the visitor section he saw you seated with a few of the other girlfriends.

“What kind of guy ditches his girlfriend and doesn’t even tell her how to get to the media tent” he thought. He began eyeing the drivers near him, trying to remember who was and wasn’t single, but his train of thought was cut off as the host started the round.

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A/N: This is my first time doing any kind of fanfic in awhile. So hopefully they improve as they go on. Parts will hopefully be posted 5-6 times a week but we’ll see how it goes. The next post is already done and will be up soon. Im not sure what the final length on this will be but I have a pretty good guideline of the story planned out. There’s not nearly enough lance content IMO so someone has to contribute. There will also be a longer spin off of the Pierre and Best Friend storyline to come

Edit: please fill out the poll when you get a chance

#lance stroll #aston martin #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x you #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #alpine #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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